#platonic!sam winchester x gn!reader

[toadspondofwhimsy]

Ain't No Apple Pie – Winchester Brothers

SUMMARY: You got out, left the life, but you’re miserable and looking for a way back in. 

PAIRING: Platonic!Sam Winchester x gn!Reader, Platonic!Dean Winchester x gn!Reader.

WARNINGS: Reader insert, swearing.

WORD COUNT: ~1.2k

A/N: divider cred: thecutestgrotto

Being a reformed hunter wasn’t easy. Every person you came into contact with you were suspicious of. You checked their teeth for fangs, checked their eyes for glimmers, and always kept a silver blade on you. 

You were out. Living the apple pie life, as an older friend of yours would say. With the way your mind worked, were you really out? You searched for a supernatural explanation in every strange occurrence. You’ve even picked up that phone and dialed his number a few times. One last hunt together, yet every time you set the phone back down and decided against calling.

You clawed yourself out, why throw that all away so readily? To be frank, you were miserable. There is not such thing as an apple pie life for a “dead” felon. You worked days at a nondescript business, off the books. They didn’t ask questions and neither did you. Especially not when you were handed that wad of cash for your first “pay-check.”

You rented a shit-hole apartment, the bathroom walls were stained with mold and when you first moved in you swore it was haunted. That was the first time you almost called him. You decided to do some digging first, you didn’t want him to come all the way for nothing. So, you dug and you came up with a load of crap. Literally, all you found was rat shit. The super determined they chewed through some electrical wires. Also, the heater in your unit was shot to hell. Great. No haunting, you should be happy, but why do you feel disappointed?

Next time you almost called, you suspected your boss was a vampire. No surprise there, you were wrong, over vigilant. Though, you cannot blame yourself, you’ve lived the life of a warrior. Being hyper vigilant saved your life, it saved your friends lives, multiple times over. You can’t just turn that part of your brain off. You need to learn a new way of living. You need help, but there isn’t exactly a hunter support group outside of a roadhouse. 

Currently, you were sitting in an all staff meeting, bored out of your mind as your boss droned on about increasing sales and customer engagement. You drifted off in thought as you picked at your cuticles. The sounds of your coworkers voices becoming like a hum. You envisioned the whole company as a legion of the undead and you storming in with your best friends flanking your sides, machetes at the ready. You let out a fierce battle cry as you swung your weapon and decapitated your boss in the middle of his speech about turning more undead. 

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of your name and all eyes were on you. Your eyes scanned the room jumping from face to face. The one person that you’re friends with at work, and you use that term loosely, said, “what do you think about making changes to the front area? Do you think that’ll draw more people in?”

You smiled at her and mouthed your thanks before answering the question, “less clutter for sure. Other than that, I’m not sure.” You had plenty of ideas but you weren’t about to give them out to these corporate leeches for free. 

Your boss scowled or that was just his face, sometimes it was that hard to tell. He begrudgingly thanked you for your contribution and continued to drone on about looking alive and friendly. You internally groaned, you did not get paid to be friendly! 

Finally, the meeting was over and you practically ran out of there. You made a stop at your local dive bar with a crew from work, one of them including your “friend.” You were certain she was a nice person and you could get along, but old habits die hard. You were intent on keeping her at arms distance lest she be endangered by your lifestyle. The lifestyle you don’t even live anymore. Though everyday of this apple pie life seemed harder than your toughest nights hunting and crashing in some abandoned building. Seriously, some of your squats looked like a 5 star accommodation compared to your rental. 

You drank a few beers and made polite conversation. When the chatter turned to office drama and other work related topics you decided to dip out. 

The next day at work you stood up front with your boss talking about some possible upgrades to the entrance, which really means he was talking and you were vaguely listening. Your already divided attention was tore away from him when through the window you saw a black ‘67 Chevy Impala tear into the parking lot. Your boss said something about classic cars and you simply ignored him as you exited your workplace. You knew exactly two people who could be driving that car and you could only think of one reason why they’d find you. You started walking towards the vehicle, praying to heaven above that both brothers exited that vehicle. The driver side and passenger side door opened at the same time. You felt your breath catch in your throat at the anticipation. A bright smile was brought to your face when you saw both brothers, though it was quickly wiped off when you saw the seriousness on theirs. 

“What are you guys doing here?” You questioned tentatively. 

Dean looked over at you with a guarded expression. “You know we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t bad,” he said in a gruff manner. 

“Seriously, we’re sorry to do this, but we need to ask you for a favor,” Sam said, his tone more sympathetic than Dean’s. 

Though you understand Dean is just grappling with feelings of guilt right now. He promised that if you got out, he wouldn’t drag you back in. He tended to keep his promises, especially ones to you. Whatever it was, without them even saying yet, you knew it must be worse than they’re letting on. 

“Let’s go somewhere else to talk,” You said while walking towards the backseat.

“No, we can talk about this later when you get off,” Sam protested.

“Yeah, we’re already interrupting your life,” Dean added, not quite meeting your eyes as he spoke. His jaw set in a familiar clench, you knew he was grinding his teeth. A bad habit he got whenever he was stressed, angry, or down right upset.  

“Really, I’ve been looking for a reason to come back. Ain’t no apple pie out here, not a damn crumb for me,” You added, your tone laced with bitterness and a hint of regret. 

The brothers shared a look, confusion passing over both of their faces. 

“We can talk about this later, now let’s go,” You spoke up as you noticed the shared look between the two. 

All three of you clambered into the car and Dean began to drive out of the parking lot. You started giving him directions to your apartment. While doing so you peered out the window and saw your boss watching with a dumbfounded look on his face. The sight of his utter horror brought a devilish smirk to your face as you flipped him the bird. Sam chuckled at your antics and Dean sped off, the roar of baby’s engine broke the peaceful quiet of the afternoon and her tires kicked up dust. 

You sat back in your seat and threw your head back laughing. The smell of leather filling your nose, paired with the sound of baby’s familiar purr, and the sight of your two favorite boys, filled your heart, mind, body, and soul with a happiness you’ve been lacking.

[mxltifxnd0m]

cereal-lized ✫ winchesters

summary: a morning after a rough hunt

pairings: dean winchester x gn! reader, sam winchester x gn! reader, platonic! dean winchester x reader, implied sam winchester x reader

requested: yes/no: by anon! thank you for requesting this, i hope this is what you envisioned :)

words: 745

warnings: no use of 'y/n', smidge of angst, fluff, none really

a/n: thank you again to the anon that requested this! also i couldn't resist having sam and the reader together since they're besties with dean 🤭. also sorry for the bad pun for the title, i couldn't resist lol

𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You managed to pull yourself out of bed this morning, detangling yourself from the arms that were wrapped around you. You trudged through the halls of the bunker to get to the kitchen, where you found Dean in his 'dead man' robe, sitting at the table. He was practically slumped over his bowl of cereal, his head in his hand as he chewed slowly, staring at the wall blankly.

The hunt for the three of you was a rough one, not only on your bodies but also on your minds. You never liked going on hunts when they involved kids, and you guys had to deal with changelings. It took you guys a lot longer than it should have to try to find where the mother changeling had the kids, and by the time you guys found and killed the thing, it had fed on over half of the kids it took.

It hit the three of you hard as the drive back to the bunker was dead silent. No music, no conversation. Just the rumblings of the Impala and the low noises of breathing coming from you, Dean, and Sam.

Your sock-clad feet led you to the shelves that held the tableware, and you grabbed a bowl, then looked in the silverware drawer to grab a spoon before sitting across from Dean and pouring cereal and milk into it.

Usually, whoever got up first in the bunker would make breakfast for the three of you, but it was always either you or Dean since Sam would go on his morning runs and come back after you had just finished cooking breakfast. But this morning was different for obvious reasons. Sam didn't go on his morning run, and Dean made cereal instead of the typical eggs, bacon, and toast he would make for the three of you.

Dean made eye contact with you as he chewed his food lazily and nodded at you in acknowledgment.

"Morning." You rasped out before diving into your breakfast. You usually had an appetite in the mornings but you were not feeling it this morning. Regardless, you still need to eat something and cereal was your safest bet.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, content with just being in each other's presence as your spoons clinked against the porcelain of the bowls the two of you ate out of. You and Dean found solace in each other's company, whether it be in silence or the random conversations the two of you would have when avoiding research for a hunt. Sam would complain when the two of you would procrastinate and tell you two to shut up (even though you saw the slight smile on his face when you and Dean would get into petty arguments).

You had a good rapport with the eldest Winchester, being able to match his stubbornness and sarcastic responses with your quick wit and level-headedness when it came to tense hunts you guys would be working. You eventually broke through his tough exterior and became each other's best friends. He was able to confide in you in ways that he couldn't with his brother.

A couple of minutes had passed before Sam made his way into the kitchen, still in the sweatpants and black t-shirt he wore to bed, and went over to the fridge to grab a water bottle.

"Morning." Sam greeted the two of you as he closed the refrigerator door.

Dean mumbled something that sounded like 'morning,' but you couldn't tell because his mouth was full. You heard Sam bustling about the kitchen behind you before sitting down beside you with a bowl and spoon and planting a kiss on your head as he did.

You smiled at him before going back and eating your cereal slowly. At this point, the cereal was kinda soggy, but you didn't mind.

Dean grunted something, sleep still riddling his features as he shoved his bowl towards Sam, a couple of spoonfuls left in his bowl.

Sam's eyebrows pinched in confusion as he looked at his brother.

"Have the rest. I'm done." Dean said before getting up, his robe swishing behind him as he padded out of the kitchen and down the hall.

You and Sam stared at the doorway that Dean left through, puzzled. You shrugged it off before going back to your now very soggy cereal. Meanwhile, Sam scoffed and shook his head before grabbing the cereal and pouring it into his bowl.

[prentissluvr]

the impala, 4:00 p.m. — sam winchester

cw : gn!winchester!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, sam & reader are twins, dean's implied to be dead/gone (you choose which time lol), unedited, 608 words. requested ! for my 800 followers event [ closed ] .

summary : sam lifts your mood with a book on a sort of somber day in the impala.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

for months now, it’s just been you two. sort of like how it was when sam was at stanford. you moved near campus to be close to him at nineteen. the year apart beforehand had been hellish sometimes.

but these days have this odd liminality to them. there are no crappy college kid apartments or girlfriends or parties. just the impala, the road, monsters, and each other. you miss dean. some days you almost don’t.

lots of days you miss what you and sam could’ve had, but it feels too late now. it’s sort of nice, though, because you don’t hunt all the time. you and sam take breaks. you help where you can, then you visit southern california for a taste of hot weather and salty air. last week, you stopped for a few days in a midwestern national park. it was stunning, and perfectly suited to yours and sam’s tastes.

today is an in between day, no plans and no hunts on the horizon yet. you’re behind the wheel, your mixtape playing through the speakers. as for the way you feel, everything there is an in between too.

you’re tired, but painfully aware. mourning, and oddly at peace. it doesn’t quite feel bad, but you don’t feel good.

oftentimes, your mood aligns with sam’s. you guess it could be that cliche twine telepathy, but to you it feels more like a deep understanding of each other paired with so many sort of insane and mundane shared experiences.

but today, sam is good. he’s not great, because it’s sort of hard to be more often than not these days, but the two of you are slowly figuring it out. sam very easily senses the way you feel. today and every day. he thinks you’re teetering on the edge enough that he can steer you in the more pleasant direction.

he’s going to offer to switch to the drivers seat in a bit, but he’ll do a few other things first. before interrupting your quiet time with the music and scenery, he’s going to find a good place to eat. not an american diner, but somwhere with better food. he hopes he can find a thai place with good reviews.

then he pulls out a book. you don’t look over at the movement at first. you can see the book in his lap through your peripheral vision, and don’t blink because he’s always reading when he get’s bored in his passenger’s seat. but then he turns down the music and shows you the cover with an unspoken question.

the fellowship of the rings.

you had forgotten that sam carries the lord of the rings books around with him. it catches you by complete surprise, the sight of the worn copy you two shared as kids and the question in his eyes. you grin. he’s asking if you want him to read it aloud to you, to fill up a bit of the gaping hole in this car.

“i forgot you had that,” you say, eyes turning back to the road, but your smile sticking around. sam grins back at you.

“what, you think i go anywhere without a copy of this?” he says lightheartedly, half teasing himself by saying something so nerdy.

“as you should,” you shrug, shutting the music all the way off. “go on, then.” you hear the creak of the spine, and the rustle of pages. then sam’s voice, a sound that melds in perfect familiarity with the rumble of the impala.

“three rings for the elven-kings under the sky, seven for the dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, nine for mortal men doomed to die…”

[sammyluvr]

the impala, 4:00 p.m. — sam winchester

cw :gn!winchester!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, sam & reader are twins, dean’s implied to be dead/gone (you choose which time lol), unedited, 608 words. requested ! for my 800 followers event [ closed ] .

summary : sam lifts your mood with a book on a sort of somber day in the impala.

for months now, it’s just been you two. sort of like how it was when sam was at stanford. you moved near campus to be close to him at nineteen. the year apart beforehand had been hellish sometimes.

but these days have this odd liminality to them. there are no crappy college kid apartments or girlfriends or parties. just the impala, the road, monsters, and each other. you miss dean. some days you almost don’t.

lots of days you miss what you and sam could’ve had, but it feels too late now. it’s sort of nice, though, because you don’t hunt all the time. you and sam take breaks. you help where you can, then you visit southern california for a taste of hot weather and salty air. last week, you stopped for a few days in a midwestern national park. it was stunning, and perfectly suited to yours and sam’s tastes.

today is an in between day, no plans and no hunts on the horizon yet. you’re behind the wheel, your mixtape playing through the speakers. as for the way you feel, everything there is an in between too.

you’re tired, but painfully aware. mourning, and oddly at peace. it doesn’t quite feel bad, but you don’t feel good.

oftentimes, your mood aligns with sam’s. you guess it could be that cliche twine telepathy, but to you it feels more like a deep understanding of each other paired with so many sort of insane and mundane shared experiences.

but today, sam is good. he’s not great, because it’s sort of hard to be more often than not these days, but the two of you are slowly figuring it out. sam very easily senses the way you feel. today and every day. he thinks you’re teetering on the edge enough that he can steer you in the more pleasant direction.

he’s going to offer to switch to the drivers seat in a bit, but he’ll do a few other things first. before interrupting your quiet time with the music and scenery, he’s going to find a good place to eat. not an american diner, but somwhere with better food. he hopes he can find a thai place with good reviews.

then he pulls out a book. you don’t look over at the movement at first. you can see the book in his lap through your peripheral vision, and don’t blink because he’s always reading when he get’s bored in his passenger’s seat. but then he turns down the music and shows you the cover with an unspoken question.

the fellowship of the rings.

you had forgotten that sam carries the lord of the rings books around with him. it catches you by complete surprise, the sight of the worn copy you two shared as kids and the question in his eyes. you grin. he’s asking if you want him to read it aloud to you, to fill up a bit of the gaping hole in this car.

“i forgot you had that,” you say, eyes turning back to the road, but your smile sticking around. sam grins back at you.

“what, you think i go anywhere without a copy of this?” he says lightheartedly, half teasing himself by saying something so nerdy.

“as you should,” you shrug, shutting the music all the way off. “go on, then.” you hear the creak of the spine, and the rustle of pages. then sam’s voice, a sound that melds in perfect familiarity with the rumble of the impala.

“three rings for the elven-kings under the sky, seven for the dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, nine for mortal men doomed to die…”

[gothfleur]

home again - sam winchester

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

prefer to read on ao3? read it here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Little did they know, they just found you. 

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

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

Dammit, Dean. Always with the sarcastic comments.

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

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

Sam.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[delulu4dean]

Masterlist

Mainly just supernatural… mainly Dean.

Last Updated: 12/10/2023 <3

TikTok:delulu4dean

Wattpad: _itsafangirlthing_

Twitter: delulu4dean

✰ Younger Sibling Winchester ✰:

• Withdrawals(Sam and Dean x younger sister!reader)

• No Doctors(Sam and Dean x younger sibling!reader)

• Emergency Room(Sam and Dean x younger sister!reader)

• Audio-Therapy(Dean x younger sister!reader)

✰ Dean Winchester ✰:

• Dean’s Not Dean(Demon!Dean x female reader)

• Animal Pt 1(Dean x female reader)

• Animal Pt 2(Dean x female reader)

• A Game Of Angels & Devils(Demon!Dean X female angel!reader)

•Written Porn(Dean Winchester)

• Daylight(Dean Winchester x female vampire!reader)

✰ Castiel ✰

• Five Gum(Castiel x gn autistic!reader, platonic)

✰ Destiel ✰

• Bring Me to Life(Castiel X demon!dean)

[waywardxrhea]

Brooke's Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Hey everyone! I was recently brough into the ranks of the ever wonderful Murdock's Tuna Team discord server and the legend @pastafossa came up with a list of prompts for us to write for the month of October! Instead of it just being angst or fluff or kinky, we have all three options per day and can choose one or combine to our heart's desire! I have a wide range of characters that I came up with ideas for a lot of the days and I can't wait to share them!

My little disclaimer as usual is that I am working part time and going to school part time, so I may not be super on time with posting day by day, but dangit, I'm gonna get everything posted that I have ideas for! It may end in November, but it'll be fine! I have also taken some of the days off because the muses weren't feeling them or any of the backup prompts, whoopsie!

Anyways! without further ado, my tentative list of writings for Tuna-Tober!

All pieces are written as character x fem!reader unless specified otherwise!

Day 1: Falling asleep in a hospital room (angst) - Spencer Reid

Day 2: “Why? Why do you love me?” (angst) - Qrow Branwen x fem!OC

Day 3: Role reversal (smut) - Matt Murdock (self reblog)

Day 4: “This isn’t you” (angst) - Bucky Barnes

Day 6: “Shh, I’ve got you now. I’m here.” (angst) - George Weasley

Day 7: Nothing underneath (smut) - Matt Murdock

Day 8: Overstimulation (smut) - Matt Murdock

Day 10: A hug that lasts a little too long (fluff) - college!Matt Murdock x gn!reader

Day 12: “I did it for you” (angst) - Sabine Wren

Day 16: Against a window (smut) - Din Djarin

Day 17: Tickling (fluff) - George Weasley x gn!reader

Day 19: Touch starved (angst) AND “I’ll always be there for you” (fluff) - Matt Murdock

Day 20: There was only one bed (fluff) AND “You were made for me, weren’t you?” (smut) - TBD [may or may not get to this one]

Day 21: Fainting/collapsing (angst) - Spencer Reid (self reblog)

Day 23: Father (angst) - Sam Winchester

Day 24: Drunken confession (fluff) AND “Shh, do you want them to hear us?” (smut) - Dean Winchester

Day 26: Under the desk (smut) - Matt Murdock

Day 27: Near death experience (angst) - Sam Winchester (self reblog)

Day 28: [prompt switch out] “I'm in love with you, and that scares me” - Bucky Barnes

Day 29: Forehead kiss (fluff) - TBD headcanons for multiple characters [may or may not get to this one]

Day 30: Road trip (fluff) - platonic Winchester Brothers

Day 31: Blanket hog (fluff) - Matt Murdock

[ghoastixx]

Welcome To My Blog

I am a fandom writer, some names you can refer to me by are Casey, Ghoast, Theseus, Ri,

Some things you should know about me are that fact that I beg for asks then ignore them. I’m sorry if I never get around to writing them, but I really try. I go on huge hiatuses. I’m sorry. Please don’t urge this to not request at all. I’m getting better.

My blog is 15+

My pronouns are he/they/ (she maybe)

What I’ll write:

X reader (self inserts)

Gn reader

LGBTQIA+ themes

Fluff

Angst no comfort

Angst with comfort

Pairings

Platonic

Romantic

Parental figures

Comfort

Age gaps (legal)

Polyamory

Au’s (no alpha omega I’ll kms)

What I refuse to write

Incest

Underage relationships

Pedophilia

Rape

Abuse as a kink

Slurs

Anything with piss, shit, or vomit

Self harm as a kink

Huge age gaps

Real actual people- (I think it’s personally weird.)

Zoophillia

Ageplay

The fandoms I write for/ characters

Sweeney Todd:

Sweeney Todd

Ms.Lovett

Scream

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Tatum Riley

Sidney Prescott

Ghostface (masked)

The Lost Boys

Micheal

David

Paul

Marko

Dwayne

Halloween

Micheal Myers (original)

A nightmare on elm street

Freddy Kruger

The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Dr. Frank N’ Furter

Beetlejuice

Beetlejuice

Lydia

Adam & Barbra

House of 1,000 corpses trilogy

Otis Driftwood

Baby Firefly

The Boy 1

Brahms

Creep 1

Josef

Hazbin Hotel

Charlie Morningstar

Lucifer Morningstar

Adam

Alastor

Rosie

Husker

Helluva Boss

Blitzø

Stolas

To Kill A Mockingbird

Atticus Finch

Gravity Falls

Stanford Pines

Stanley Pines

Bill Cipher

Labryinth

Jareth the goblin king

Guardians of the Galaxy

Peter Quill

Gamora

Nebula

Yondu

Venom

Eddie

Venom

Eddsworld

Tom

Edd

Matt

Tord

Pirates of the Caribbean

Jack sparrow

Bill and Ted’s excellent adventure

Bill

Ted

Heathers

Jd

Veronica sawyer

Edward Scissorhands

Edward

The Hunger Games

Haymitch Abernathy

Effie Trinket

President Snow (Coriolanus)

Katniss Everdeen

Peeta Mellark

SuperNatural

Castiel

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Lucifer

Gabriel

The Outsiders

Sodapop Curtis

Darry Curtis

Dally

The silence of the Lambs Franchise/ Hannibal

•Doctor Hannibal Lecter

•Clarice Starling

Hannibal NBC

Hannibal

Will Graham

[derelictlovefool]

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Author: Achilles, he/him & they/them pronouns

Status: Hobbyist, low writing activity

Writing: OC x Canon, Reader Insert, Original Fiction

Requests/Suggestions: Open

note: i'm a full time student so any requests I get will be done when and if I have time and they spark my interest!

Active in regards to fandoms & characters simply means most enthused about and interested in writing, inactive means least interested in writing but still willing if the idea sparks my creativity.

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active | inactive | semi active

Far Cry 5 | Supernatural | The Last of Us | Marvel | DC | Doctor Who | Sweeney Todd | The Witcher | Dying Light 2 | Z Nation | Inkheart | Bridgerton | Slashers | Outlast | Resident Evil | Overwatch | Undertale/Deltarune | Ib | TWD Telltale | Motor Crush | The Arcana | Kingsman

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active | inactive | semi active

Faith Seed | John Seed | Joseph Seed | Jacob Seed | Sharky Boshaw | Hurk Drubman Jr | Adelaide Drubman | Jerome Jeffries | Mary May Fairgrave | Eli Palmer | Grace Amestrong | Joey Hudson | Staci Pratt

Dean Winchester | Sam Winchester | Castiel | Charlie Bradbury ||| Joel | Tess ||| Wade Wilson | Tony Stark | Pepper Potts | Bucky Barnes | Steve Rodgers | Thor Odinson | Bruce Banner | Natasha Romanoff | Clint Barton ||| Harley Quinn

The Doctor (4, 9-15) | Jack Harkness | Rose Tyler | Donna Noble ||| Sweeney Todd | Mrs Lovett ||| Geralt of Rivera | Jaskier/Dandelion | Yennefer of Vennenberg ||| Hakon | Aiden | Lawan | Frank ||| Alvin Murphy | Roberta Warren | Addison Carver | Cassandra | Sarge | George St Claire

Mo | Dustfinger ||| Penelope Featherington | Benedict Bridgerton | Anthony Bridgerton | Colin Bridgerton | Eloise Bridgerton | Violet Bridgerton | Kate Sharma | Edwina Sharma ||| Jason Voorhees | Michael Myers | Bubba Sawyer | Brahms Heelshire | Thomas Hewitt

Eddie Gluskin ||| Ethan Winters | Karl Heisenberg | Alcina Dimitrescu | Donna Benniviento | Slavator Monreau | Mia Winters | Chris Redfield | Leon Kennedy | Ada Wong | Claire Redfield

Jack Morrison | Gabriel Reyes | Cole Cassidy | Genji Shimada | Hanzo Shimada | Mei ||| Sans | Papyrus | Asgore | Undyne | Mettaton | Queen ||| Gary ||| Calax Gothard | Domino Swift | Lola Del Carmen | Sonoya Vernilion ||| Asra | Nadia | Dorian | Portia | Muriel ||| Merlin/Hamish Mycroft

OC's: David Thorn (Slasher), Z (God Symbiote), Xander (Robot)

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Tropes I enjoy writing:

Variations of the Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers | Childhood Friends | Neighbour across the hall/street | Mutual Pining | Devotion and Obsession | Making each other worse | Making each other better | Romance in Violence | Ride or Die Friends | Royal Guard/Gardener x Royalty | Crime Boss x Bodyguard | Dog Coded x Cat Coded | Fuck Love Triangles Make it Poly | Fake Dating | Meet Cute and more!

❝​🇼​​🇮​​🇱​​🇱​ ​🇩​​🇴​❝

— male/trans/enby/gn!reader (I'm here for the guys and gays)

— oc x canon, oc x oc, canon x canon, reader x canon, reader x oc

— sfw & nsfw

— platonic, queer-platonic, romantic, familial, etc.

— headcannons, one-shots, multi-parts

— AU's, crossovers

— gore, violence, toxic relationships, death/angst

❝​🇼​​🇴​​🇳​❜​🇹​ ​🇩​​🇴​❝

— fem!reader (There's thousands out there already y'know)

— genderbends

— pregnancy related topics

— self harm topics

— incest, paedophilia, zoophilia, necrophilia and any of that nasty crap

— non-con

— infidelity

— Characters I really don't know or care about </3

[starlvenus]

Supernatural oneshots :p !!

Hii!! :3

Got into writing again :p and supernatural fics are what i want to write right now!! Im not the most experienced writer so some things may be out of character but i try my best!! Request some stories and ill probably eventually get to them :3 Ill write for almost every character (maybe not John Winchester :p) I write for men and women (ill write for readers with social anxiety as i deal with that as well :3)

If you want a specific gender for the reader just put it in your request (idm writing for any gender :3 + if there is no specified gender it will b gn :p) I will also write platonic stuff whenever its just friends or siblings, or even family stuff (like dad dean etc.)

For things that i wont write are any NSFW, no pregnancy, incest+stepcest, birth related stuff, i also wont write any three ways with the brothers (ex- sam x reader x dean), huge age gaps (1-5 years are fine, a bit iffy on anything else :3), no perverted readers or characters, and just basic gross stuff!!

But yeah anything but those things ill basically write anything!! A sam x reader is currently in the works :3 soo there will be something coming out soon :p

[mxltifxnd0m]

drunken words ↼ d. winchester

summary: drunk you isn't the best at keeping their mouth shut

pairings: dean winchester x reader, dean winchester x gn! reader, platonic sam winchester x reader

requested: yes/no: by @traiitorjoe; thank you for sending your request!

word count: 3.0K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', none really, some cursing, a little bit of fluff, sam being a meddling little shit, some angst, kinda edited

a/n: i got this request in july and i felt so bad for having put it off for so long but here we have it! there is a potential for a pt.2 so if anyone wants that lmk lol

but enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me!

[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]

𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Dealing with the Winchesters always felt like a Herculean task when you would run into them while you were on a hunt. The first time you ran into them was when they barged into the farmhouse that you were staking out for a nest of vampires. They went in, guns blazing, and you cursed them out under your breath as you hurriedly left the hiding spot you were in and rushed into the nest to help them clean out. 

It was safe to say that they were surprised and confused by your anger when you guys had killed all of the vamps. You didn’t recognize them at first when they first ran into the farmhouse, but now that you were standing there and really looking at them, you instantly knew that these were the infamous Winchester brothers you’d heard from Bobby and other hunters.  

Regardless of who they were, you were furious that they had messed up the hunt that you were on, and they were on the receiving end of your fury while they looked at you dumbfounded. After you were done yelling at them, you left the farmhouse fuming and decided to leave them with the cleanup job. 

The brothers were so confused by you that they didn’t even think to ask for your name. They also were slightly scared by your fury, and they failed to realize that you clearly knew who they were, but they had no idea who you were, only that they had taken over your hunt and were really mad about it. Dean only hoped that he wouldn’t run into you ever again. 

But as fate was a fickle thing, you would run into the brothers on your next hunt in a small town in Oregon, where a witch was terrorizing the men of the town, and it just so happened that you had arrived at the station the same time they did. You had to play along with them until you got the information you needed, and then when you tried to leave the station before them, a hand slammed your door before you could get into your car. 

You turned around to be met with emerald green eyes filled with irritation and thinly veiled curiosity. 

“Did you need something Winchester?” You said with a scowl etched into your face. 

Dean scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, answers. Who the hell are you?” 

“What’s it matter to you?” 

“Because you’re a hunter and we could use some help on this case.” Sam interjected, and your eyes were ripped away from the man in front of you. You almost forgot about the taller Winchester that was lingering behind Dean. 

You raised an eyebrow at Sam while Dean’s head jerked over his shoulder and glared at his brother. Sam stared back at his brother with raised brows, sending him a look that said, ‘What? It doesn’t hurt to ask.’ 

“I don’t think your brother here is keen on working with me.” 

“You’re damn right I’m not. You went off on us for no reason and left us to clean up.” 

You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of them cleaning up the plethora of severed heads and bodies from that farmhouse. But you ignored Dean's words as you contemplated the offer Sam was proposing. 

“Fine I’ll help, but you’ll have to follow my lead on this one.” 

Sam nodded, agreeing with you, and sent you a dimpled smile. 

Dean opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by you slicing the air with your hand in front of his face. 

“Zip it Winchester, either you listen to me or I leave you high and dry on this hunt.” You waved around the copy of the case file that you convinced the Sheriff to give you before leaving the station. 

Dean all but glared at you and stomped towards the black Chevy Impala that was parked down the street. You couldn’t help but smirk at Dean’s grumpy attitude, and Sam told you which motel they were staying in and followed them to it. 

With three heads instead of one (more like two since Dean barely did any research and stuck you and Sam with it), you guys found the witch in no time and disposed of her swiftly. You had to admit that working with the brothers was more manageable than working on your own. But you knew that this had to be a one-off occurrence because you had heard about all of the craziness that surrounded the Winchesters. You were not keen on being pulled into any of it. 

Once the hunt was over, Sam gave you his number and told you to call if you needed help or vice versa. You took it to be polite, but you knew that you weren’t going to call them unless your life depended on it. The three of you went your separate ways before Destiny decided to play her games, and somehow, you ended up working on most of the hunts the brothers were working on. 

It’s like some higher power wanted you to work the Winchesters against your better wishes. Alas, you ended up working with them every time because you couldn’t resist Sam Winchester’s pleading puppy dog eyes. But you got on quite well with Sam, and he slowly became a good friend of yours. 

But your relationship with Dean, on the other hand… Well, let’s just say you had a mutual hatred for each other. You guys practically fought like cats and dogs anytime you interacted, and the two of you couldn’t help but let snide comments leave your lips each time the other was wrong or messed up. Both of you bickered like an old married couple that should have divorced a long time ago, so much so that Sam had to be the mediator constantly if you were to work with the brothers. If he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure if you were either going to throw a punch or fuck each other. 

Dean Winchester is an incredibly infuriating man, and you hated that you found him attractive. It wasn’t lost on you that both of the brothers were hot, like they should be on the cover of a magazine hot, but there was something about Dean that drew you to him more. You didn’t want him to know that, so you hid your attraction for him through your sarcastic demeanor. Eventually, Sam had enough of your bickering that held so much sexual tension that he locked the two of you in the motel room he and Dean were sharing until the two of you could have a civil conversation. 

Sam had left the two of you for a couple of hours. He was half expecting to find the two of you naked in Dean’s bed, but when he unlocked the door, he saw the two of you on separate beds and watching a random movie that was playing on the TV in the room.

In the time that Sam was gone, you guys had bickered and gotten in each other’s faces, but you eventually admitted that it was tiring to keep up the fact that you didn’t exactly hate Dean since the moment you met him and to your surprise, he admitted the same thing. After that, you guys sat on separate beds, finding some common ground between the two of you, and watched whatever was on the TV. 

After that incident, the two of you still argued like a married couple, but there wasn’t any heat behind your words, and it turned into friendly banter between you and the older Winchester. Months went by, and you found yourself as the unofficial third partner to the brothers, accompanying them on the majority of the hunts that they picked up.  

You didn’t know how it happened, but to your utter shock and horror, along the way of becoming friends with Dean Winchester, you developed feelings for him. Of course, you had no idea when you started to feel like this around Dean. Sam was perceptive, caught onto your change in behavior, and had basically interrogated you when he saw you glare at the woman Dean decided to take home that night, trying to ignore the stinging sensation in your chest as he left the bar the three of you were at. 

You had vehemently denied that you felt anything for Dean, but all Sam said in response was a shit-eating grin and gave you a look that said, ‘Yeah, you’re lying, and I know it.’ 

Once Sam had figured out that you liked his brother, he stopped at nothing to leave the two of you alone in hopes that you’d put on your big kid pants and admit your feelings towards him (spoiler alert, you never did). As much as you loved Sam, you honestly wanted to punch him in the face every time he urged you to tell Dean about your feelings. 

You knew that Dean wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy, and you definitely knew that he wasn’t one for love or relationships, as evident with the women he picked up at bars after successful hunts. Did your heart clench any time you saw the satisfied smirk on his face the morning after the night out at the bar? You wouldn’t admit it to anyone but yourself, but yeah, it did. 

Now, after a successful hunt, you and the Winchesters found yourselves at the bar across the street from the motel you were staying in. The three of you were at a booth at the corner of the bar, and you had gotten the first round of drinks for each of you. But when Dean volunteered to grab the third round (Sam had gotten the second one), Sam said he was turning in for the night and shot you a sly smile, and you knew exactly what he meant by it. You glared at him briefly before telling him goodnight through gritted teeth (Dean had seen this interaction between you and his brother and was confused by it but brushed it off).

Sam left, and Dean turned to you. “Still want a drink?” He asked. 

You nodded in response, and Dean shot you a small smile before his knuckles knocked on the table, and he made his way toward the bar. A couple of minutes had passed, and Dean wasn’t back from the bar. You looked up from your empty glass to see him being chatted up by a woman dressed to the nines, and clearly, Dean was into her. 

You let out a harsh breath before shaking your head, getting up from the booth, heading to the opposite side of the bar Dean was at, and ordering a vodka soda. You downed in quickly and told the bartender to keep the drinks coming. You didn’t know how many you had until you heard a gruff voice telling the bartender to give you water instead of another drink. You could vaguely recognize Dean’s voice through your drunken haze. 

You turned around in your seat to see Dean right next to you with furrowed brows. “You alright there, kid?” 

Dean hadn’t seen you this drunk before, so he was half concerned but also half amused by the cute pout you had on your face. 

“M’not a kid.” You slurred out, irritated. You hated the nickname that Dean had given you; you weren’t much younger than Dean, you were the same age as Sam. 

“Then why are you pouting like you didn’t get the candy you asked for?” Dean asked, his tone amused. 

You couldn’t help but scowl at him and look around for the woman he was talking to earlier. “Where’s the girl-*hiccup* you were talking to?” You questioned, dazed. 

Dean’s face had scrunched up. “Turns out she plays for the same team.” He muttered lowly, but you managed to hear it through the bar chatter. 

You couldn’t help but burst out in drunken giggles at Dean’s failed attempt to take someone home. Dean looked at you, slightly embarrassed, but couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your laughter. 

“Okay, we should probably get you back to your room.” Dean coaxed you off of the bar stool you were sitting on before paying for the tabs and leading you out of the bar. Dean had tucked you into his side as you walked on wobbly legs across the street to the motel. 

Once you reached your room (which was coincidentally right next to the boys’ room). Dean asked where you had your key. You were leaning into Dean, so his question was spoken into your ear quietly, and it sent a shiver down your spine. 

“M’back pocket.” You mumbled out. 

You didn’t see this as your eyes were closed as you rested your head against his shoulder, but his eyes widened at the realization that he’d have to grab it from your jeans pocket. 

“If you remember this in the morning, please don’t punch me, I swear I wasn’t trying to cop a feel.” He had muttered something else under his breath, but you were too out of it to notice what he said. 

Dean managed to get your room key out of your pocket and unlocked your door. He led the two of you inside, and when you saw your bed, you quickly ripped yourself from Dean’s embrace and fell face-first into bed, uncaring if you were still in jeans. 

Dean chuckled at you, and you looked up at him with a pout. “Are you laughing at me?”  

He shook his head, trying to stifle his amusement. “No, of course not.” 

You squinted suspiciously at him before sitting up and pawing at your combat boots. You were fumbling with the laces until you felt a warm hand cover yours. You looked up and found Dean kneeling on the floor in front of you. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he untied your boots for you and pulled them off of your feet. 

“You’re pretty.” You couldn’t help but blurt out drunkenly. 

Dean laughed, his green eyes sparkling with mirth. “Maybe I should get you drunk often, maybe you’ll compliment me more.” He sent you one of his smug smirks before standing up and heading toward the small kitchenette in your room.

He filled a glass with water before heading to the bathroom. He grabbed some aspirin that was stored in the medicine cabinet (you had no idea that he knew where you stored your painkillers). He came over to the bed with the water and painkillers and set them on the nightstand.

As he was bustling around your room, you had managed to wiggle off your jeans and get underneath the covers of the bed.  You looked at Dean underneath the warm lighting of the lamp that illuminated the room. His freckles were prominent in this lighting, and you couldn’t help but stare at his side profile. 

Dean noticed your intense gaze on him and smirked down at you after setting the water and aspirin on your nightstand. “See something you like?” He gently teased. Dean felt his hand twitch, trying to resist the temptation to brush back the stray hairs on your forehead. 

“Mhm, I like your face.” You smiled in a drunken bliss before your eyes fluttered. “I like you a lot actually.” You said before you felt the pull of sleep tug at your eyes. 

Your eyes shut, and your breathing evened out as you succumbed to sleep, leaving Dean standing in shock next to you. He looked down at your sleeping form before shaking his head. He’d deny the fact he felt his heartbeat quicken at your drunken admission. Dean quickly left your room and entered his shared room with Sam. 

Lucky for him, Sam was sound asleep in his bed, and Dean quickly got ready for bed, trying to ignore the fact you may or may not have shared the same feelings as he did. 

You woke up with a groan. Your head was pounding. You saw through your bleary eyes that there were some painkillers left out with a glass of water right next to them on your nightstand. You sat up as quickly as you could and grabbed the things off the nightstand. You downed some of the water before taking the aspirin and then drinking the rest of the water. 

You put the glass back on the nightstand before crawling back under the covers, wanting to let the ache in your head subside slightly before getting ready for the day. But fate was not on your side because pounding came from your door, making pain shoot through your head, and Dean waltzed into your room with a bag of food and a wide smirk on his face. 

“Rise and shine, kid!” He said enthusiastically. 

You shot up from your spot on the bed and glared at him. “I hate you. And stop calling me kid.” 

“Well, that’s not what you said last night.” Dean smirked knowingly. 

Your heart dropped to your stomach; what the hell did you say last night? “What do you mean?” 

Dean placed the food on the table before leaning on its edge. “Do you not remember what you said last night?” 

You shook your head. “Nope. Last thing I remember was you leading me out of the bar.” 

Dean's smirk faltered. He wasn’t expecting that. “You don’t remember anything at all after that?” 

“No. Why did I say anything important?” 

Dean cleared his throat, trying to seem nonchalant and hide what he was actually feeling. He shook his head. 

“Uh, no. But I got you some grub, we’re gonna head out in 30 so be ready then.” He said stiffly before leaving the room. Not looking at you once before the door closed with a click. 

You stared at the door, confused. That was probably the most awkward Dean had ever been around you. But you shook it off and decided to pack up and eat the breakfast Dean got you. 

You’d figure out what you said to Dean later. 

[prentissluvr]

need sam winchester biblically and its such a crime i can't be binging spn rn, but that does mean i will be thinking about him all the time without spending said time watching him which means i will have thoughts about him which means i will have time to write for him which means that folks should send me sam requests i promise i'm nice and a decent writer heheheh

[sammyluvr]

take my breath away — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, features dean x reader (platonic), near death experience, suffocation, other canon violence and death, injuries, blood mention, swearing, so much pining, case fic, stereotypical witch, (not) unrequited love, petty arguments, petty sam, kissing, crying, guilt, reader vaguely implied to be shorter than sam, pet names, food mentions, (baby, honey - from sam, darlin’/kiddo from dean), no use of y/n, mentions of end of season 2-4 spoilers, poorly edited, 13.7K words. requested !

summary : because of an unexpected witch’s curse, it’s almost too late for you and sam to confess your feelings to each other.

you see sam when it rains. even if he’s sitting right in front of you, you’ll look out the car window and at the rivulets of water rushing down the glass, distorting the image of an empty highway and summer-time trees at dusk, and you’ll see him at seventeen with rain in his hair and running down his cheeks. you’ll think of that smile he gave you as he took your hand and how that look he had in his eyes haunts you worse than any ghost you’ve seen, because you think it could’ve been love. sometimes, you’ll still see glimpses of that sam, but he can be rare. so, you go as far to wonder if maybe he still looks at you like that when your gaze is turned away. 

once, when the windows were down and he was sitting in the back with you for a change, the spring air was nice and clean as it filtered into the sometimes stuffy car, and you felt his multicolor gaze watching you. the look on his face changed when you locked eyes, but for an imagined moment, it seemed that you—your eyes closed against the wind and a light smile on your face that, for once, wasn’t grim—were his everything.

you press your temple to the cold glass of the window, hoping it’ll sober you up a little from your love-drunk state. it’s so goddamn stupid that you’re even thinking about him like this right now, because he’s still sort of mad at you for something rash you did during your last hunt. only you don’t think it was stupid, so you’re half pissed that he won’t let it go. staring at the back of his head and the pretty curled ends of his hair, you sigh quietly. even his shoulders rising up past the seat are handsome. you miss him, and he’s close enough to reach out and touch.

dean’s voice breaks your reverie, and you have to draw in a deep breath. without you even noticing, thinking about sam so hard makes you breathless, almost every time.

“so, why don’t you give us the full rundown, sammy? ‘fore either of you decide to conk out on me,” dean suggests. that means he’s bored, because neither of you will fall asleep for at least another hour or two, and you’ll probably take your turn driving for a few soon.

“sure,” sam agrees, and you hear the shuffle of papers as he digs out a newspaper article and some notes. “three people in the last three weeks all died from suffocation, but with no apparent cause. they just,” sam’s shoulders move a little as he motions vaguely with his hands, “stopped breathing.”

“sounds witchy to me,” dean says, very predictably. you think you could’ve said those exact words at the exact same time if you wanted to tease him about it.

“yeah. what’s weird is that the vics were reported feeling out of breath up to 16 hours before they actually died. says it looks like they slowly died from oxygen deprivation,” sam adds.

“huh. so not hex bags, but another sort of spell?” you wonder aloud, easily talking about the case despite the remainders of tension between you and sam. that’s just how it is, with all of you. even when you’re mad, you still work the case.

“most likely,” sam agrees, “the vics went about their days pretty much normally until they died, so they were in different places as they were dying. seems like a hex bag wouldn’t work unless it was on them the whole time.” you nod, and though he’s not turned around to look at you, you’re sure he knows anyway.

“alright, well. looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” dean states, “we’ll be in town in the morning, so we’ll rest up real quick then head to the police station. you two can do your interviewing magic with the vic’s families and hopefully we’ll know more by then.”

this was easily predicted as well. for as long as you’ve been able to pass as an fbi agent, he’s mostly left interviewing the families to you and sam since the two of you tend to be more socially appropriate, and thus, more able to get information without raising alarms. though, the questions you ask never cease to be weird and confusing to the world’s oblivious civilians. of course, dean makes exceptions for pretty girls who he can flirt his way into telling him just about anything. this time, you wish dean would make an exception because it kills you that you and sam aren’t getting along perfectly right now. you know that you’ll work it out soon, probably within the week, but you still hate it.

through the impala’s windows, you watch the sky turn dark and the moon come out. you drive, then fall asleep to the rumble of the engine for a few hours, and wake to see the sky turn light again. keeping it all to yourself, you revel in the sunrise and the way it turns the sky bright and the clouds cotton candy pink around the edges. 

you sink into the sight of sam sleeping in front of you, the early morning light kissing his features and shining through his mousy brown hair. if you lean a little to the left, you can soak up the image of his softly closed eyes, the mole by his nose, and the relaxed curve of his lips. you smile to yourself at the way his hair is all messed up on the side of his head that’s resting against the window until you catch dean’s gaze on you through the rearview mirror. you tear your gaze from both brothers and latch it to the moving countryside out the window. for a while now, you’ve figured there’s no way dean doesn’t see that you’re in love with his brother, but despite such, he doesn’t say much outside of lightheartedly teasing for the both of you. he’s the only one who knows that sam looks at you just like that when you’re the one who’s asleep. he’s the one who sees sam turn, trying to be subtle, just to look at the way the moonlight kisses your lips, wishing it was him.

it’s eight in the morning when you pull up to the first motel you see. you wished sam hadn’t woken up on his own half an hour ago. that way, you could’ve put your hand on his shoulder, shaken him all soft and gentle like you do just for him, and mumbled, “wake up, sammy. we’re here.” then he’d stir, still sweet-looking from sleep and give you a little smile if he’d managed to dream without nightmares before remembering he’s supposed to still be upset with you.

instead, he’s fully awake when he climbs out of the car and pops your door open like he does every time you can’t beat him to it. he doesn’t talk about that habit, because he knows you can take care of it yourself. but if it’s so easy for him to do it as you grab your bag, then he thinks there’s no harm. besides, you’ve never told him off for it, so he does that and just about any other little thing he can get away with for you. and much to your chagrin, he still does it all when he’s pissed at you. he’s too good like that, even if you think he should just get over what happened a few days ago.

the three of you are just about wordless as you check in and pile into the room, all tired and without anything of importance to say. when you catch sight of the couch in the room, you sigh in relief. it would’ve been sam’s turn to share the bed, and you’re not sure you could do that this time around. sometimes it’s hard to breathe when he’s right there, so close after you’ve spent literal hours in the car just plain old pining over him. so, you find an extra sheet in the closet and steal a pillow from dean’s bed, all but collapsing onto the couch with a morning-time “goodnight.”

you don’t care that your feet hang over the edge unless you curl up or mind the way the springs dig into the flesh of your side, all you want is to welcome quick sleep. you’re lucky, and drift off moments later. you barely have time to think about how glad you are that you won’t have one of your nights where you lay awake, staring at the ceiling as you wonder why you would fall in love with someone you can’t have. him and dean are all you have, and no matter how your heart aches to pull sam close, you’d never do anything to jeopordize what you have, here and now. he’s your best friend, that’s all you can ask for in this life, maybe even more than you should.

waking as you normally do to the sounds of sam and dean moving about the motel room, you sit up, a little groggy. you glance at the clock, and you’ve slept for about four hours, just as predicted.

“up ‘n at ‘em,” dean says as he walks past you, giving you a playful clap on the back.

“mhmm,” is all you respond with, swinging your legs off the couch and digging through your bag for your pant suit and toothbrush. dean’s already in his, and sam’s brushing his teeth in the bathroom, still in his tshirt and jeans from yesterday. you don’t even have to say a word for sam to move out of the bathroom as you approach. so he won’t have to wait with a mouth full of tooth-paste and spit for you too long, you change quickly, leaving your clothes on the bathroom floor and opening the door for sam as you begin to brush your own teeth. the two of you maneuver around the cramped space with practiced ease, and when he’s done, he disappears back into the bedroom space without a word. when he’s petty to other people, you think it’s kind of hot. but when he does it to you, it makes you want to ring his neck. 

“asshole,” you mumble to yourself. it’s a classic tango between the two of you; you want him to just get over it, and he wants you to admit that he’s right, or the other way around. and both of you are far too stubborn to be the one to relent first, so you’ll be pissy at each other for a few days until you get bored of it or dean gets too annoyed. all it takes to get past it is you putting your head in his lap after a long day, maybe him resting his head on your shoulder, or the two of you laughing too hard over something together to keep being mad, and maybe just a few mumbled apologies from the both of you. if it’s really big enough for none of those things to work, then you talk about it until things are okay again.

dean drops you off at the first victim’s house, with the promise that the second is close enough to walk to, and the third he’ll join you for once he’s done at the coroner’s office.

sam still won’t talk to you as you wait on the front porch of the house after ringing the doorbell. a young woman opens the door, probably around your own age, and you smile at her before flashing your badge.

“hi. i’m agent green. this is my partner, agent smith. we’re looking for natalie goh?” you greet, comfortable and at ease in your ruse.

“that’s me,” she confirms for you, sounding nice enough. “how can i help you, agents?”

“we would just like to ask a few questions about your late boyfriend, henry,” sam explains, “may we come inside?”

her face falls when he mentions her boyfriend, but she nods her head. “of course, come in.” you follow her to the living room where she motions for you to sit. “let me grab you something to drink,” she offers, disappearing into the next room before you can refuse. “is lemonade okay? my next door neighbor brought me so much when she heard about henry… you know. i can’t possibly drink it all.”

you want to say no, not wanting to make her go through the extra effort, but you accept for both you and sam out of sympathy. she sounds like she needs to keep her hands busy to distract herself. 

she sets the drinks down in front of you, asking as she sits, “what, uhm, what is the fbi’s interest in … in henry?”

“we’re investigating a few odd deaths, like your boyfriend’s, in the area,” sam explains, “now, was there anything unusual the day of or the days leading up to his death?”

“i, um, i don’t– i don’t think so, like what? and, i’m sorry, the police told me he most likely choked on something, how is that strange?” natalie frets. you glance at sam and catch him readjusting his features as a brief look of surprise crosses over his face. it makes sense that that’s what the police told her, but you hadn’t known they’d said so.

“well, natalie, the cause of his death wasn’t entirely clear, and because a few more people have died similarly since, we’re just being extra thorough,” you do your best to placate her before she starts getting too wary of you and sam. “it really could mean nothing, but it’s important for us to cover all of our bases. so, can you tell us if there was anything out of the ordinary? was he acting strange, or did you notice anything unusual around the house, like maybe cold spots or flickering lights?”

she furrows her eyebrows in confusion, “um, no. no, nothing like that. he was just being him, you know, he was such an amazing boyfriend, he made me breakfast that morning even though he said he was tired. i already told this to the police, but he sounded kind of out of breath when we called. that was the last time i talked to him,” her voice begins to tremble, so you reach out a comforting hand and place it atop hers from across the table. “i had to stay late at work, and when i got home, he was … he was gone. i found him in the kitchen.” a tear slips down her cheek, and she moves her hand away from yours to wipe it off. you shift back in your seat and glance at sam, trying to give him the hint to get moving. but, he keeps his gaze trained elsewhere.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him, almost ready to pull the “may i use your bathroom” ruse first. it’s almost always sam who does it, and sure enough, he clears his throat to ask.

“would you mind if i used your restroom?”

“oh, sure,” she says, “there’s one by the pantry, through the kitchen and to the left.”

he stands, thanking her a bit awkwardly before disappearing through the doorway to the kitchen.

once he’s gone, you turn your attention back to natalie. “i know that this can be a difficult question, but is there anyone that comes to mind who might want to hurt henry?” absentmindedly, you take a sip of the lemonade after speaking. it’s sweet, but not too sugary. you discover that it’s just about perfect, and you can’t hold back from continually taking a few sips here and there to fight back the heat of the afternoon.

“oh, goodness, no,” she sounds horrified by that prospect, “henry was just the kindest. the best boyfriend i could ask for,” she reiterates. “you think that someone– that someone…?”

“no, no,” you lie, “there would be signs if someone else hurt him, but like i said, we just need to be completely thorough. i’m sorry to even have to ask. now, if you’re okay with it, could you tell me more about henry?”

“yes, yeah, i can do that,” she sighs in relief. it’s clear she wants to talk about him, and probably how much she misses him. you do your best to pay close attention and keep her focused on you and your questions as sam takes forever “in the bathroom.” nothing she says is very useful, it’s all about how loving and kind and just about perfect he was to her. at first, you’re able to listen without a qualm, but the more she rambles about how much she loved him, and maybe even more so how much he loved her, your mind inevitably wanders to sam. sam and your bothersome, bottomless pit of unrequited love.

you kindly cut natalie off and stand when you hear sam’s footsteps approach. “it sounds like henry was a wonderful person. i’m so sorry for your loss.” despite knowing those words don’t mean or do much, you still fill them with as much sincerity as you can. sam is at your side again. “we really appreciate you taking the time to talk to us. we’ll get out of your hair now.”

she shows you to the front door out of courtesy, and you give her one last thank you and kind smile before turning your back and heading to the sidewalk, sam just ahead of you. pushing off the ground a little harder for a few steps, you catch up to him and his long strides, unable to resist the urge to let your gaze wander to his face.

“anything?” you ask, hoping he’ll look at you too.

“nope,” he shakes his head, “no emf, no hexbags, nothing out of the ordinary.” pursing your lips, you let your gaze fall to the sidewalk ahead of you when he doesn’t make eye-contact. “anything on your end?”

“not really. she just rambled about how in love they were. said there was nothing strange about the day, or him, and that he had no enemies. she made him sound like a complete angel.” without you realizing, your lip curls a little in jealousy.

sam just huffs in response, likely bothered by the lack of information. “let’s hope we can find something about the other two.”

you repeat the ruse at the next two homes, and sam’s hopes are dashed, because by the time you, sam, and dean are back at the motel room, just about the only thing of value you bring back is a paper bag of takeout.

spread out in the room, with your respective assortments of food, notes, and computers, you share all the details you can think of to hopefully find a pattern. dean’s on his bed, sam on the couch, and you at the dingy table. the biggest discovery is on dean’s part. according to the coroner, each of the victim’s hearts had inexplicably shrunken and shriveled up. this detail was kept out of the public eye because of how strange it was; it happened after each victim died, as it very clearly did not contribute to the cause of death. that, and the coroner is absolutely stumped by how such a thing could possibly happen.

dean asks if the first two interviews were as fruitless as the last, and you sigh as you explain just how unhelpful they’d been.

“the only common threads are that they were young adults, all in a relationship, and all sounded to be just about the perfect partner,” you report. “i mean, maybe the witch is targeting people in loving relationships? jealousy? or maybe they have some sort of secret we couldn’t dig up just by interviewing. the people we talked to were obviously biased. the first victim’s girlfriend wouldn’t stop talking about how amazing he was, the second’s sister told us she was the sweetest girlfriend out there, and you heard how the third’s husband described them.”

“really?” dean asks. “i mean, yeah, i heard the last guy, but i ran into the first vic’s girlfriend’s sister at the station. she was doing something for her sister there, and she did not seem too impressed with the guy when i asked about him.”

you raise your eyebrows, about to speak again when sam beats you to it.

“so maybe we are looking for secrets. did she say what she wasn’t impressed with?” sam says just about the exact thing you were about to.

dean shrugs. “jus’ said he was sort of a lazy boyfriend. didn’t take good enough care of her or show his love all that much.”

“maybe he was cheating?” you suggest.

“maybe,” dean repeats. “how’s this? you can dig into records and see if you can find any dirt on the vics. sam, you can look for a spell that might’ve caused this, and i’ll scout out a few local places. the officer i was talking to gave me a few places the vics probably spent time at.”

“sure,” you agree, a teasing edge to your voice, “just don’t get too distracted. we all know by ‘local places’ you mean bars. no sex unless you solve the case, and if you solve the case, no sex because you have to report back to us.”

“so no sex?” he plays along, acting all offended.

“nope!” you confirm, giving a firm shake of your head. 

dean’s already on his way out the door as he chimes, “no promises!”

“seriously!” sam calls after him, “we need info!” he groans and shakes his head when the only response he gets is the shutting of the door. when he doesn’t make a snarky comment about dean to you, you clench your jaw.

“sam.” it takes a lot of willpower to sound bothered by him, rather than say his name all sweet.

“mhmm?” he’s purposely keeping his gaze on his computer and his response short.

you roll your eyes, “c’mon, can’t you just get over it? it’s not like you haven’t done stupider things to get a case done.”

since you insist on arguing about it, he lifts his gaze, looking unimpressed. “doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have done it. you almost got dean hurt.”

“and i already apologized for that!” you say indignantly, annoyed that that’s his argument. he knows full well, better than anyone, that dean can deal with a measly vamp, even if he wasn’t expecting it. “it’s not like dean can’t handle himself!”

“you should have at least run the plan by us,” he says. you roll your eyes again.

“it was a spur of the moment decision. unless you wanted me to shout it out, compromise my position, and let every single vamp in that nest know exactly what i was gonna do?” you retort. sam sighs, in the way that you can tell he knows your argument is better than his. so, you still can’t figure out why he’s still upset about it, outside of his usual stubbornness.

“it could’ve gone so wrong,” is all he can come up with, “and you know that. it was stupid, and you could’ve gotten hurt. or worse.” there it is. his voice changed when he said you could’ve gotten hurt.

it’s your turn to sigh, this time because you finally understand. it makes your heart flutter a little, and it makes you even more annoyed. “sam, i can handle myself. you know that. sure, it was kind of stupid, and not a fully thought out plan, but i had to figure out a way to get us out of there! four vamps were about to find you, so i had to distract them. easiest way was with my blood. one vamp found dean, but he handled that just as easy as he always does. i knew you’d have my back, so i let the other three come after me. and look! we’re all here, alive and kicking! this is such a stupid thing for you to get mad over.”

“it’s stupid for me to want you to be more careful?” he counters.

“sam, we have to take risks in this job, we do it all the time. that’s just how this works, what’s different about this time?” you question.

“just–” he presses his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose as he tries to come up with a reason that’s good enough. a reason that’s not “i worry about you,” because that’ll make you even more angry, make it sounds like he doesn’t think you’re a good enough hunter. and he certainly can’t explain that that’s not it, he worries because the worst possible thing to him is you getting hurt. because then you’d ask why and he wouldn’t be able to tell you the truth.

“can’t we just be done with this?” you ask, and the tone of your voice is one he can’t deny. you’re upset, bothered, and tired of his pettiness. more so, you’re just plain old tired. it takes too much effort to stay upset with one another. he lets your question sit in the air for a moment longer.

“yeah,” he relents, voice quiet now. he’s holding back words, touches, feelings. he wants to tell you, “just please don’t put yourself in danger, it scares me. i get so worried. it makes me want to pull you close and protect you even though i know you don’t need it. that’s why i’m upset.” he wants to get up from the couch and set his computer across from yours, sit across from you, just so you’re a little bit closer. he wants to touch you so bad that it sort of hurts.

instead, he has to live for the relieved breath that huffs out through your nose, so quiet it couldn’t quite be counted as a sigh.

“good,” you say, voice matching his own quietness. there’s still tension hanging between you, but soon enough, it’ll dissipate altogether, and tomorrow, you’ll be back to joking with one another, brushing shoulders, and hiding how in love with each other you are. maybe he can even convince you to share his bed tonight. the couch is horridly uncomfortable.

only after you’re convinced that sam won’t be all pissy to you until the next time you find something silly to be angry about do you begin on your research. it’s just as fruitless as everything else today, and after hours searching and drawing banks, you go back to the interviews, jotting down all the details you can remember in case seeing it on paper helps something new and useful jump out at you.

all you get is a dull ringing in your ear, probably courtesy of some old motel appliance. but the ringing grows louder, and in your tired state, it becomes completely bothersome. you press your hand against your left ear—it’s loudest there—and shut your eyes. it’s been an hour or two since sam has shifted to sit across from you to escape the digging springs of the couch, so the movement catches his attention quickly.

“you alright?” he asks, already with a little pinch of his eyebrows in worry.

“yeah, ‘m fine,” you say, realizing the ringing must be the beginning of a headache, since sam can’t seem to hear it. “just a headache,” you explain.

“want me to get you some advil?” he offers.

“no, no that’s alright, i’ve got it,” you deny, but you don’t get up. your head doesn’t really hurt, and the ringing fades as fast as it appeared. you’re about to sigh in relief, when suddenly, you’re sort of breathless, and you gasp to take in air. the moment passes, and you shake your head to yourself a little. it’s weird until you remember that sam’s looking at you with that little furrow to his brow, sweet and concerned, like the last thing he wants is for you to be in pain, even if it’s just a measly headache. that look in his eyes as his gaze focuses on you and only you is certainly enough to take your breath away. it just took you by surprise this time.

“you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, worried by your gasp.

“mhmm,” you hum, trying to keep your tone light and trying not to look too hard into his pretty hazel eyes. “jus’ hurt for a second, but i think the headache’s gone away.”

“okay,” he relents, not fully convinced, but willing to take your word for it and refocus on his computer screen. you turn your own attention back to the papers in front of you, away from his face, so close that it sends your heart into wild palpitations every time your mind wanders from the case and to his presence. in other words, it happens often.

you’re determined to find something, some detail that clicks and leads you to anything important. but after another unfocused hour, your eyelids are heavy, almost as much as your head as you wish to just sink down and fall asleep right there on that little table.

“you should get some sleep,” sam says, no stranger to the way you look when you should quit being stubborn and just go to bed. and normally, you’d resist, but the idea of sleep, of closing your eyes and letting your breath even out, slow down, is far too inviting.

so, you relent, and close your laptop. “yeah,” you say as you shuffle the sheets of paper together and set them on a neat pile on top of your computer.

“take the bed, too,” he insists, “you look exhausted.”

“mm, glad to hear it,” you joke halfheartedly, “but, no, sam, that couch is too small for you. it’s small for me, even.”

“and it’s seriously uncomfortable,” he adds.

“so we’ll share. i’ll leave space for you. you should come to bed soon, too. ‘s not like we should wait up for dean,” you snicker. sam rolls his eyes, but easily agrees with your conclusion. as you settle into the covers of the motel bed, you consider waiting up for him so you can feel the dip of the bed, then the warmth that radiates off him as he lays beside you. you want to feel the brush of his long arms, the heel of his foot or nudge of his toe, sometimes you’re treated with the broad expanse of his back. but sleep claims you before you can even make the attempt.

sam’s big hand on your shoulder brings you back into consciousness, and you breathe in long and hard since it seems like you can’t quite fill your lungs. then your eyes flutter open, and sam’s figure is hovering over yours, his hand lingering, then slipping away as he sees you wake. he doesn’t stand fully upright yet, unsure if he should say something or not.

he keeps his voice low, not wanting to alert dean, who’s changing in the bathroom. “are you feeling fine?”

groggy as you sit up, you peek at the clock. 8:43. you slept through the 8:30 alarm. odd.

“uh, yeah, i’m fine,” you answer, voice gravelly from the morning’s first use, “why?”

sam shifts to sit on the bedside opposite you. “nothing just… i don’t know, you were just breathing really light last night. i could barely even tell you were breathing at some points and normally you breathe pretty noticeably while you sleep. and, you know, given this case, i just wanted to check.”

sam notices the way you breathe when you sleep. that’s just about all you can take away from his words. sam pays enough attention to the way you breathe when you sleep to know when your breathing is different. sam thinks about the way that you breathe. maybe that’d be creepy from anyone else, but you think about the way he breathes too. the way it lulls you to sleep when he’s close, the way it catches when he’s surprised, or the way it changes when he’s about to laugh.

then you remember he’s said something you’re supposed to address. “it’s nothing, sam. i feel totally fine, just tired from working back to back cases, is all.” you say this because you’re sure of it; you do feel just fine. and sam makes you breathless all the time, so there’s nothing out of the ordinary there.

“are you sure?” he presses, “you slept straight through the alarm, like a rock.”

“i’m sure,” you say.

“okay,” you can immediately tell that he’s not entirely convinced as he says this, “but if anything happens or changes or you feel like you’re out of breath, you promise to tell me or dean?”

“of course.” you may not want to be fussed over, but you certainly don’t want to go out in such a stupid, horrible way. “i promise,” you add, just for his sake. dean’s phone starts ringing, and he appears out of the bathroom.

“either way, let’s get this case done, and quick,” sam insists.

“don’t have to tell me twice,” you agree, throwing off the covers to get ready for the day.

dean’s voice keeps you from lingering by sam’s side. “hey, crazy kids, let’s hurry it up. just got off the phone with the sheriff, there was another death last night.”

“dammit,” you and sam swear in unison. 

on the way to the scene, dean updates you on his findings from last night. he was just as unsuccessful as you in finding major dirt on any of the victims, though he recieved similar testimonials to the sister’s about the first, henry. otherwise, he was able to find the witch’s possible hunting ground in a bar where all three victims have been seen with their partners. sam reports that he’s getting close to finding the right spell after discovering a few similar ones. 

when you reach the victim’s house, sam and dean check in with the police officers, and you immediately head to interview whoever found the victim’s body. he’s obviously distraught, and probably still in shock from losing his boyfriend. you do your best to stay gentle, kind, and understanding as you lead him through the interview, interrupting your questions for the occasional “he sounds like he was a wonderful partner,” or other such comforting phrase as the man, tyler, rambles about how great he was, how guilty he feels, and just about nothing helpful except for adding another data point to the one pattern you have.

“thank you for your help,” you say, giving him a tight lipped smile before standing and drifting over to sam on instinct as you mull over the information you recieved. he’s poking around in the kitchen, subtly searching for anything abnormal and most likely coming up empty as this house follows the unhelpful trend of the rest.

“anything?” he asks once you’re by his side.

you shake your head, “just the madly in love bit. everything was pretty much the same as the other vics as well.” sam sighs like he expected that answer.

“i think we should look more into the first victim,” he suggests, echoing the same thought that you had. “maybe interview natalie again, see if she admits something different about henry if we push it a little.”

“i agree, though i’d say let’s hold off on interviewing her again unless we can’t find the spell soon. even if she admits that he wasn’t as good to her as she said before, i’m not sure how much good that does in comparison to the spell. if you keep looking into that, i’ll check henry’s records more thoroughly. i looked into him less last night since we already had something on him.” you revise the plan a bit, and sam nods in agreement, making that sort of awkward face with his lips pursed and eyebrows raised that he does when someone without the knowledge you have comes in hearing range. you glance behind you to see the figure of a police officer through the kitchen doorway and are fast to quit all talk of spells and witches to avoid sounding insane.

“dean can scout out the bar again to see if this most recent couple frequented there as well,” sam puts the last piece in place for your plan, just as you imagined it. once it seems like there’s nothing left to glean from the house, you grab dean and head out back to the car. the brothers walk a bit ahead of you as sam fills dean in on the plan.

“excuse me! agent,” a voice calls from behind you. the three of you turn, and you wave the two of them away to indicate that you’ll deal with it.

“yes?” you respond as an officer approaches.

“your partner asked for the full coroner’s reports on paper from the first three victims,” she says, holding out a file as she reaches you.

“ah! right. thank you, officer.” you give her a polite smile and take the papers before turning away. sam and dean have made it to the impala, parked a bit away due to the police cars surrounding the house. you jog at a casual pace to catch up, but falter about halfway there as your breaths turn all shuddery and quick. you stop, trying to right yourself and desperate to brush this off, but you just keep gulping in breaths, feeling like you’ve run a mile at top speed without warming up. 

shit. shit, shit, shit, is all you can think. fuck.

as you stare at the car, dean’s already in the front seat and sam is pulling the passenger’s door open, and you will with all your might that neither of them will turn to look for you. you don’t want them to catch you like this. instead, you want to explain it to them, calm and collected and full of breath because your body’s beginning to readjust and you should be fine to walk over in moments and dammit– sam’s twisted around to find you, his hands resting on the top of the car and the door. the second he catches sight of you, just standing there with your chest heaving up and down, he’s launched himself away from the car and towards you. he calls your name, worry flooding his voice. you had tried to recompose yourself the second you saw his head turning, but it was too late, and now he’s jogging your way.

sam is in front of you in moments, his hands on your shoulders and his face fallen in a deep frown.

“you’re not okay, are you?”

“i– i’m–,” you can’t think of what to say, and though your breath is returning to normal, you can’t deny him. “let’s just get in the car. please.” 

his jaw clenches and his eyes flick all over you, from the top of your head to the point of your shoes like he always looks at you when he thinks you might be hurt. he’s taking you in, quick and almost panicked so he can fix it right away. he takes a steadying breath because he’s so ovewrought he can barely think. “fine,” he says, voice carefully hushed. if he doesn’t control it, he might start shouting, panicking even. sam can’t bear to leave you untouched now, so he leaves a hand splayed on your shoulder blade as you finish the short walk to the car. he opens the back door and climbs right in, completely foregoing his spot in the passenger’s seat. you realize he wants to sit in the back with you, and it would’ve been sweet if it wasn’t because you’re probably dying.

jaw clenched, you follow him in, and dean’s already twisted around in his seat, gaze shifting between the two of you to try and read what just happened.

“what was that all about?” he questions, eyebrows raised. you put a hand on sam’s knee to stop him from telling dean.

“the witch got me,” you drop the news without much hesitation, more focused on getting your two cents in before either of them start grilling you with questions and making stupid suggestions to try and fix it, “it’s gotta be someone we met or passed by yesterday. one of the people we interviewed or someone from the diner we had lunch at; these types of spells normally require the victim’s dna. and before either of you do anything stupid or crazy, we’re gonna stick with the same plan. dean, you can drop us at the motel so we can find the spell and reversal, and you find out what you can at the bar. got it?”

dean looks at you like you’re crazy, and you ignore sam’s gaze altogether. 

“got it?” dean repeats back to you, incredulous, “not so much, kid, i’m gonna need you to explain this to me a little better. what do you mean the witch got you? you mean you’re gonna stop breathing in some odd hours that might not be enough time for us to find and gank this witch?”

“yes, dean, that’s what i mean. try to keep up,” you turn a little mean as your frustration takes over in order to compensate for your growing fear. “and i’m not going to die, so quit being so pessimistic. we’ll find the witch, as long as we stay focused on the plan. unless you have a faster way, which i’d be happy to abide by.” neither have a good enough retort to that, so you continue, “can we go now? we might not have that much time.”

with much effort, dean turns back in his seat and starts the engine. his voice is low when he asks, “what do you mean by that?”

“well, i don’t know exactly when this whole thing started!” you answer as he pulls into the street, “sam said my breathing wasn’t totally normal last night. if that means anything, well, i went to bed early last night, around eleven. that could mean it’s been at least, i don’t know,” you check the time, “eleven hours. which gives us five, minimum.” you think you can physically feel sam tense up next to you.

“five hours?” sam repeats, his voice taut, like he’s holding back anger, fear, maybe more. “and were there any times before that you felt out of breath?” 

you think back to yesterday. sure, every time i looked at you, isn’t quite an answer that you can give. “um, i’m not sure,” you say, sounding more cryptic than casual, as you had meant. you see dean’s eyebrow raise through the rearview mirror.

“you’re not sure?” dean asks, unbelieving. the two brothers are starting to sound like a broken record as they repeat every other thing you say back to you.

“yeah. nothing comes to mind,” you say, more firmly this time.

sam sighs. “you can’t seriously think it’s a good idea to hide that sort of thing from us if it happened. this is serious.”

you scoff, “oh, really? i wasn’t aware, it’s not like it’s my life on the line, or anything like that.”

“alright, let’s not get pissy,” dean intervenes.

“pissy?” you scoff again, “right, because this is serious and i’m apparently unaware of that.”

dean says your name, voice a little chiding as he tries to disperse some of the tension that’s building within the small space of the car. “let’s focus on the case here. sam is right, we need to know everything you do. was there anything else weird you noticed last night?”

“i don’t know!” you exclaim before calming down a bit and taking a deep breath. “i had this ringing in my ears for a minute, around ten. i thought it was a headache. and … i did feel breathless, but just for a second. i thought it was … something else.”

“why didn’t you say anything?” sam asks, immediately remembering this. you had pressed your hand to your ear. he believed you when you said it was a headache, but he should have known better. you’re far more likely to rub your temples when you feel a headache coming on.

“i thought it was something else,” you repeat.

“like what?” he presses.

“like–” you hesitate, “like nothing. just nothing, i don’t know.”

dean interrupts again to get things back on track, “so that could mean four hours, not five.” you see sam’s jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye.

“yeah,” you confirm, hoping your voice doesn’t reveal how anxious you really are.

“my question is why just you?” dean asks. “i’d normally figure it’s because they suspect you to be a hunter, but if they were able to get your dna, they probably had access to ours, too. the witch think you’re madly in love with sammy or somethin’?”

you fluster at that, mind scrambling, why in the goddamn hell would dean say that? does he want me dead faster? “uhm, uh,” you laugh a little, completely awkward about it, “why would they think that? we were clearly, you know, in a working relationship, not a, hah– romantic,” you clear your throat, “relationship. i’m sure it’s just the hunter thing, maybe they couldn’t get your dna… or they thought i was more worth killing,” you attempt at a joking insult, but you’re still sort of jerking through your words and reeling from someone saying “you’re madly in love with sammy” out loud.

to your left, sam looks almost as flustered as you feel, which brings you an ounce of comfort.

“whatever you say,” dean shrugs.

when you get back to the hotel, sam’s practically running inside to pull out his laptop, and dean speeds away the second the car doors close behind the two of you. both of you are fidgety and antsy as you conduct your research in silence. you think sam’s even more nervous than you, with his leg bouncing and teeth chewing away at his lower lip. you’re not sure if you should comfort him, or let him be in favor of getting the research done. it doesn’t take too long for him to find the original spell, and as he tells you about it, some nervousness dissipates when the both of you get back into the groove of a normal hunt, trying to pretend that this time, the consequences aren’t as personal as they could ever get.

you can’t find any dirt on henry in any records, so you focus on staff from the bar and diner from yesterday to see if there’s any overlap that could have gotten dna from both you and all the other four victims. something else entirely jumps out at you as you check employment records.

“sam, it’s natalie,” you blurt out into the silence of the room. he raises his eyebrows, and you explain before he can even ask. “she works at the bar. and i drank some of that lemonade she gave us. she had easy access to everyone’s dna, and henry was the only deviation from the pattern.”

sam stands as you explain, “okay, let’s go.”

“no, let’s call dean and finish finding the reversal spell. i’d like to have a backup plan, if that’s alright.” sam purses his lips, looking like he wants to argue. you propose something more rational than his idea, “we’ll call dean and let him know. he can go to her house and make sure she’s the real deal before we go, too.”

“fine,” sam agrees, pulling out his phone, just as it begins to ring. he answers it and puts it on speaker, “dean, it’s natalie.”

“yeah, i know. that’s what i was about to tell you, the idiots from last night didn’t bother to mention it,” he complains. “i’m headed to her house right now.” to prove it, you hear the car door open and close. “how’s it going on your end?”

“we found the spell, we’re looking for the reversal right now,” you answer. “call us if you need help.”

“mm, you just take care o’ yourself, alright? i’ll call you back.” after that, all you get is the hang-up tone. 

a bit later, your concentration is interrupted by the pinging of sam’s phone. you watch him as he checks the messages, then looks up at you with a poorly hidden scowl.

“she wasn’t at her house,” he explains, “dean’s headed to her sister’s to look for her there. but it’s definitely her, he found a secret room full of, y’know, as he’d say, ‘witchy stuff.’”

you try to hide your disappointment and the uneven rise and fall of your chest. sam’s stayed mostly focused on the research, but every now and then, you feel him looking you over, brow furrowed and eyes concerned as he checks for anything abnormal. he’s looking at you like that now.

“damn,” is all you manage in response while still trying to stay casual about it.

“how are you feeling?” he asks. you expected the question, but you still don’t want to answer. you’re about to tell him you’re fine, since you’re not really running out of breath yet, until he speaks again before you can, “and don’t say ‘fine.’”

“i am fine,” you insist immediately, “just extra tired from getting a little less oxygen than normal. but nothing crazy. i can still focus on this research and i can still hold a weapon.” you demonstrate by grabbing one of the knives you keep strapped to your thigh and twirling it a little in your hand. sam’s face spells out the word “really?”

“just– tell me if it gets worse. please,” he’s just about begging, and with a bit of puppy dog eye action, you’re crumbling.

“okay, sam,” you relent, letting your voice go soft. he’s really scared for you, and it makes you feel just about every little thing. you want to comfort him, reassure that you’ll be okay, even when you’re terrified for yourself. you want him to comfort you, for that exact reason, and you want to hold his hand. maybe you can be scared together, a little closer than you are now. you want to kiss him, because what if this is the only chance you get? that thought horrifies you. then you wonder if it’s for the best. maybe you should die as his best friend, because dying as his anything is better than scaring him away first. it’s hard to concentrate on the research, but it’s not hard to find the motivation. the hope is to avoid death completely.

finally, you find it.

“i got it, sam!” you’re excited, then a bit breathless after pushing so much air out of your lungs so fast. the breath you take in is sort of shuddering, and it makes sam frown. he doesn’t even try to hide how worried he is. his face is nothing but unadulterated concern and care and … and something else before that expression melts away and he’s focusing on the computer screen that you tilted towards him. the crease between his brows only grows as his eyes flit down the list of ingredients.

“we don’t have the half of these ingredients,” he worries.

“no,” you admit, “but there’s a witch in town who’s away from home who might.”

to get there, sam doesn’t hesitate to steal a car from the motel parking lot, and this time you can’t even argue given the fact that you’re pretty sure you have less than two hours to live at this point. you promised sam you’d tell him if it got worse, but as it does, you want to say something less and less.

sam picks the lock of the door, entering the house carefully with you right behind. weapons drawn, you walk the route that dean gave you to the hidden room, the door in the wall of the hallway left open for you by dean.

it’s much darker than the rest of the house from the lack of windows and bright lights. this, paired with the eerie assortment of basic herbs to what might be jars of blood, makes it look like natalie really leaned into the witchy aesthetic, which you’d find understandable if she weren’t using her magic to kill people.

sam walks faster than you know is wise to match paces with, so you follow behind him slowly as he rushes to set the computer with the list of ingredients on the table in the center of the room abd begin the spell. you’re a split second too late to shout in warning when you see a figure emerge from behind a shelf of herbs.

sam whirls around at your cry, gun raised, only to be hit on the side of the head, hard, by a wooden bat in natalie’s hand. he crumples to the ground despite his size, and without batting an eye, your knife is flying through the air, straight for the spot between natalie’s shoulder blades. but at the last second, she spins around, and with a flick of her hand, the knife falls to the ground. you reach for your gun, but through your hindered breathing, you’re slow. she has no trouble launching the bat at you at an unnatural speed. the wood slams into your chest, sending you sprawling and gasping in your weakened state. you’re fighting for breath so hard that you can barely register her hauling you up and tying your hands behind your back, then doing the same to sam. somehow, she’s able to get his weight on a chair and tie him to the wobbly piece of furniture. then, it’s your turn, and by the time you come back to your senses, breathing far more labored than before, you’re tied to a chair, back to back with sam.

natalie gives you a horrid smile as she tugs at a knot to tighten it.

“well, isn’t this fortuitous! such a lovely surprise for you two to visit me,” she chimes, just as you feel sam stirring behind you. his head lolls back, brushing against your own. you completely ignore her in favor of calling his name. a rumbling groan escapes his lips as he stumbles back into consciousness.

“that’s right!” natalie grins, “it’ll be much better with pretty boy awake.” she walks around you, and you hear a smacking sound that you presume to be her hitting his cheeks to wake him further.

“don’t touch him,” you practically growl. it sounds far less intimidating than you hoped in your breathless voice. she laughs and sam lets out an audible huff of air as he wakes.

“there he is,” natalie grins. “now i’ve got two love birds at my mercy! much better than i could have imagined. you know, i couldn’t watch the deaths of the others, so this is far more exciting. i thought i’d have to miss yours, too!” she motions to you. “but now i get to watch you die, watch pretty boy watch you die, and then kill him, too! lovely isn’t it? i’ve never had such luck, thank you idiots for bringing it to me.”

“you’re not killing anyone today,” sam retorts, anger filling his voice. with a bit of an uncomfortable stretch, you twist your fingers around to grab a hold of his. it’s awkward, but you take advantage of her horrible ramblings to keep her distracted and try to guide sam’s hands to the tiny blade attached to the seam of your jacket sleeve.

“i’m not?” she laughs, “mmm, you don’t really seem like you’re in the position to determine that, pretty boy.” you hate her calling him that. “well, love will do that to a person. makes you easy targets, blinds you. you two were just too easy, so busy making eyes at each other to pay any proper attention to me.” you conclude she’s crazy, rambling on about what made her angry enough to kill. you’re sure she caught you making eyes at him, but she’s crazy talking like he’s visibly in love with you too. immediately catching on to your plan, sam’s hands are fumbling around with your jacket sleeve, trying to get the knife unstuck so it can slip down and into your hands.

“it’s so goddamn irritating when people are just so in love with each other. makes me want to hurl,” she complains.

“sounds to me like you’re just jealous your boyfriend didn’t treat you like that,” you prod at her weak spot. she whirls on you, grabbing the front of your jacket and yanking you towards her.

“so i killed him. and everything he was supposed to be,” she hisses. “and know i’m going to kill you two pining idiots. you know, you don’t have very long,” she feigns sympathy in the condescending tone of her voice. when she slams you back against the chair, it takes your breath away for a frighteningly long time. sam’s so worried, calling your name out over and over again as you choke on nothing, that he almost doesn’t realize that the movement also helped dislodge the knife and let it fall into your hands. it slices a thin line down your arm, but you couldn’t care less as you begin to work on cutting through his bonds.

“oh, shut up, lover boy,” natalie growls, hating the way he says your name with so much care as she stays leaning over you, a sick smile on her face. why the hell is she calling him lover boy? you know that’s not what you should be so worried about in this moment, but it’s the one thing that you can think about. “i’m busy watching your little lover die! i think you’ll look so good crying over them, won’t you?”

when sam’s ties snap, he stays in place, holding onto the rope so it doesn’t drop to the ground and alert her. he just shimmies the knife from your hand to his and begins working on your own ties. through it all, he pretends to struggle helplessly, cursing at her wildly.

natalie rolls her eyes, then stands straight. “if you don’t shut it, i’m going to make you,” she snarls, stalking around to stand in front of sam. in an instant, he brings the knife to the rope binding him to the chair, snapping it and lunging towards her. judging from the choked cry that escapes her throat, sam’s already plunged the knife into her neck. you hear him grunt, then the sound of her body hits the floor before he’s turned back to you, quickly freeing you all the way and pulling you to your feet. he’s halfway to the door with his hand gripping yours when you tug back.

“wait… sam, wait!” you gasp, and he’s immediately face to face with you, sweet eyes looking you up and down with confusion and worry. “it’s not– it didn’t work. the spell, we need to do the spell.”

“what do you mean? that’s impossible, killing the witch who performed the spell always–,” he fully takes you in for the first time. your chest is still heaving, your breath rattling, and it’s undeniably getting worse by the minute. “okay, okay. just sit down.” he guides you back to a chair, turning it to face the table so he can keep an eye on you as he works. this time, you’re having a hard time hiding the fear from your eyes, and he reads that loud and clear. he lets you have his strong hands cupping your face for just a moment. “you’re gonna be fine. i’m gonna fix this.” he says it with such conviction that you’d do anything to believe him. then his warm touch is gone, and you’re again hit with the reality that it’s getting harder and harder to breathe, to get any satisfactory amount of air.

your eyes follow him desperately as he rushes about the area, checking and rechecking the spell as he adds ingredients to a small cup he finds. his movements become more and more panicked by the second as he notices your breathing getting worse, more fluttery and gulping. sam’s muttering to himself as he works, too scared to look at your face for too long. unable to find one of the ingredients, he curses loudly as he searches, shoving a whole rack of ingredients to the ground. glass shatters and the metal rack clangs against the ground, the sound echoing throughout the space.

flinching at the sound, you cry out his name, struggling to speak, “you have… you have to.. to calm .. calm down.”

“i can’t!” he practically shouts, and you think you’ve never seen him this distraught, this helpless before.

“why?” is all you can manage between gasps.

“because you’re dying! and i can’t let you die, i won’t.” he’s still rummaging through ingredients as he speaks. he’s still refusing to look at you.

you want him to say it, the truth, so you repeat the question, “why?” you wheeze out, desperate to hear it in case he can’t finish the spell on time.

“because i love you!” he’s no longer shouting when he says it. his voice is all desperation and helplessness and utter sincerity, said like all he needs in the world is for you to understand that. you’re not sure if the shuddering breath you let out could count as a sigh of relief, but it’s the closest you’ll ever get.

you take him in. tears running down his cheeks, lips pursed and eyebrows pinched like he’s holding back from crying out. he’s pretty like that, you think. maybe that’s a cruel thought, but you love him too much to think otherwise. he’s always pretty; when he’s mad at you, when he’s bleeding, when he’s stitching himself up, when he’s biting his lip in concentration. when he talks about something that makes him excited or when he’s crying. when he’s oblivious of the way you look at him while he sleeps, and when he makes you love him so hard that it hurts worse than anything a monster could do to you.

you’re lightheaded, and taking in so little air that you can’t say it back. all you want to do is say it back. you slide out of the chair and onto your hands and knees, shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up. from the ground, you can hear sam, moving around, letting jars fall and shatter to the ground, crying.

when you collapse to the floor, writhing and gasping for any semblance of air, sam snaps. he can’t find the goddamn rosemary, such a simple and common herb, even for a normal kitchen, especially compared to all the other ingredients, but he knows it’s essential for its protection, purification, and healing properties. he can’t give up, he can’t let you die, but you’re writhing on the ground and crying inbetween gasps and all he wants is to hold you close, brush your tears away and tell you it’ll be alright. he barely catches the sound of your voice over the noise of his searching.

“please…”

“what? what is it, honey?” he asks through tears, unable to look at you as his eyes scan a new shelf for the basic pine-needle shape of the leaves, maybe even the little purple flowers to help it stand out.

“hold me,” you wheeze, afraid of dying alone on the stone cold floor as you feel your consciousness slipping through your fingertips like the sand of an hourglass. sam feels like he’s had his heart cleaved in two by a blunt ax coated in the world’s most vile poison.

he chokes on a sob before he can speak again, “i can’t. i’m so sorry, baby, i can’t. i just need the rosemary, it’s so close, please, baby.” he’s not sure who he’s begging to. you, to stay alive? god, to intervene? himself, to finish the spell on time? anything and anyone who will listen, most likely. you don’t have the energy to ask him to hold you again.

that moment of silence is the most horrible of them all, then the door swings open with a bang, letting the bright lights from the rest of the house flood into the dark space. dean’s eyes zero in on you on the floor, grasping helplessly at your throat, and he’s on his knees by your side in a second.

he scoops you up in his arms and to his chest. “hey. hey, hey, hey. it’s okay,” he comforts, his eyes wet because he doesn’t know if he believes himself, given your state. “sam’s gonna fix it, darlin’. you’re gonna be just fine.” he’s holding you too tight to wipe away the tears that helplessly stream down your face and he clings to the fact that your hand is gripping his wrist tight.

“dean, rosemary!” sam barks. dean looks up from you, eyes scanning the mess around you; natalie’s dead body and the blood from her wound seeping slowly over the floor, the shattered glass and clutter of dried herbs along with other magical ingredients. sam realizes dean probably won’t recognize it on his own. “dried bundle, purple flowers, thin leaves,” he instructs as best as he can as he continues his own search. dean feels awful as he lets you fall back to the ground and your weak hands fingers scrape at his arms, but he thinks he sees it, rolled far away and invisible unless you’re crouched to the ground. he scrambles across the floor to grab it and tosses it to sam, who barely manages to catch it with his shaking hands.

sam rips at it with thick, clumsy fingers, crushing the brittle leaves between the pads of his forefinger and thumb into the mixture. he’s silently praying it’s enough as he mixes it in, letting a few drops slosh over the side of the cup in his rush. dean’s back with you, holding you up in a sitting position for sam with a hand smoothing up and down your arm in his best effort of a comforting gesture. he presses a kiss to your temple as sam drops down in front of you. sam uses one large hand to cup the side of your face, and the other to bring the cup to your lips. for a moment, he’s terrified beyond comprehension when the first bit of the liquid he pours into your mouth just dribbles right back out and down your chin.

you’ve gone nearly completely still; your eyes are barely open and your breathing so shallow that only dean knows you’re still inhaling because he’s got you so close.

“please,” sam begs, whispering your name with such conviction, such desperation, that it pulls you away from the claws of unconsciousness just enough to get you to swallow weakly. sam tilts the cup up, just a bit more, and the rim knocks against your bottom teeth as more foul tasting liquid seeps into your mouth. you swallow again, then gag a little when he pours too much for you to handle in your current state. sam’s hopeful when half the mixture is down your throat and he tilts the cup for you again, but the liquid falls down your chin this time, and your eyes are closed. you’ve gone totally still in dean’s arms.

“no, no, no, wake up. c’mon, we’re almost there. you gotta wake up,” sam begs again, more tears spilling onto his cheeks after his hope is stolen away, more cruelly than ever. “please, please, please, honey. please wake up.” his voice breaks as he calls out your name again, setting the cup on the floor and taking you from dean to pull you into his own arms. dean lets him, swallowing hard and not daring to move an inch as he takes in the sight, maybe just about the most horrible thing he’s seen in his fucked up life. that’s the second family member he’s had die in his arms, and the first is holding your limp body as he shakes, cries, and begs, beyond distraught as he denies the fact that he couldn’t save you. dean curses his life. he wishes it was him, thinks about the fact that he’s always too late to make a difference. he’s ready to sell his soul again, ready to go to hell and back.

you’re dead weight against sam’s chest, your clammy forehead and tear-sticky cheeks pressed against the sweaty skin of his neck. he gathers you closer, his hand tugging at your jacket and rubbing up and down your back, begging for you to wake up.

dean’s about to interrupt sam’s mourning to tell him he’s gonna look for the nearest crossroads, that all sam needs to do is keep your body safe. then you shudder in sam’s arms and he’s calling your name again, far beyond desperate that you’ll hear him. he says your name like a prayer, with so much reverence, far more than he could ever muster up for the god he wants to believe in.

you take in a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, and you’re gasping for air, grasping at sam’s sturdy arms like you’ve almost just drowned. sam just about sobs in relief, comforting you through his own tears, “oh, you’re okay, honey, you’re alright. i’ve got you. just breathe, baby, just breathe, that’s all you gotta do.” his voice instantly calms you, and you wrap your shaky arms around his neck to show him you understand. he’s got you. he buries his face into your neck, trying not to hold you too tight for fear of restricting your breathing. you feel the wetness of his tears on you, warm and so tired. you don’t want him to cry. he loves you.

his hands smooth up and down your back, helping you set a pace to calm down your erratic breathing as you let a fresh wave of tears fall on his hot skin. they’re tears of relief, most of all. of exhaustion and leftover fear, and oh, glory, tears because he loves you. he said it, and now he can’t take it back because you love him far too much for that.

“sammy,” you breathe out. he just holds you tighter. “don’t cry, sam. it’s okay. i’m okay.” you slip your fingers into his hair, your hand so gentle as you run it through his pretty locks. you just want to comfort him, take away all the fear from the last few hours that he’s been holding onto, letting pile up and up into an unmanageable, unruly, ugly tower. you suppose him crying so much is him letting the tower topple over, almost as simple as a toddler’s chubby, innocent hands to a wooden block castle. but it still tugs at your heart, pulls at you so hard because you hate to hear him cry, feel him shake and stiffen up around you, too scared to let you go for even a second. “i’m okay,” you repeat, voice fragile from the whispering brush of death’s fingers to your palm, but you try to make it strong and confident for him, “you saved me, sammy, i’m alright. it’s alright. it’s over. you don’t need to worry anymore.” 

you think he relaxes just a touch at your words, but he doesn’t move an inch from his spot on the ground, or say a thing to interrupt the sound of your breathing. all he does is cradle you close, one hand to your back so he can feel it shift when you take in or let out air, and the other splayed from the curve of your neck, up to the base of your head. without moving too much, he presses a long kiss to the ambiguous space above your ear. that’s not enough, so he tilts his head more to press his lips to the skin of your forehead.

dean hates to break the silent reverence between the two of you, and it means more than the world, the whole goddamn universe or anything else he could ever think of, to see this instead of you dead in sam’s arms. you might be the love of sam’s life, but that just makes dean all the more protective of you. to dean, you’re family, and you have been for a long time. that’s why he needs to get the two of you away from here, before anyone finds you and the dead body.

“sam,” dean interrupts, voice somehow both gentle and extra gruff, “we gotta go.” he knows sam can get you up on his own, but he still places a firm hand on your elbow as the two of you stand. he doesn’t want to let his hand fall away from you, but he does anyway. on the way out and to the car, you’re tucked safe into sam’s side, and dean’s got his gun in hand, ready to protect the both of you need be.

dean expects it when sam climbs in the backseat with you, just thankful to get away from the damned house and back to the motel. the ride is mostly silent, save the rumble of the engine, and sam’s hand stays securely wrapped around yours, itching to pull you even closer. you yawn and sam tugs at your hand, then drops his gaze to his lap when you look at him, offering to let you lie there. you can’t resist, because historically, your head in his lap has been heaven, and you figure that this time, after having heard him say “i love you,” it’ll be something better than heaven, something undiscovered and infinitely more precious than all the gold and silver in the world. so you drop your head to his thigh, and his hands are immediately on you. you’ve got the warmth of his palms on your head and your shoulder. your own hand is on his knee, taking in the feel of his time-worn jeans, and the muscle, sinew, and bone underneath.

you fall asleep, just 10 minutes from the motel, and sam doesn’t want to wake you, but you always do anytime he tries to carry you to bed.

he calls your name, all tenderness and sweet as he rubs your shoulder. you stir easily, only having fallen into a light slumber. the sigh you let out when you sit up is soft, and sam thinks it’s cute. then he thinks about the fact that, when you both settle down, he won’t have to hold that thought back. “you’re cute,” he can say, and make you both a little flustered before pressing a kiss to your lips. until then, he’s getting out of the car with you, only letting his hands stray from you when dean pulls you into a hug, right then and there. he holds you tight, showing you how scared he was too, so you squeeze back with extra care.

“don’t scare us like that again, kiddo. you got it?” he mumbles into the embrace. 

you nod, “i got it.” he lingers for a moment, then presses a quick kiss to the side of your head before parting and letting sam take over again.

he’s got a hand stuck to your back on the way into the room, all the way to the bed you shared last night. you don’t hesitate to peel off your dirty shirt and go to put on a new one, but sam’s already holding one out to you. dean disappears into the bathroom, despite not wanting to let you out of his sight.

you tug on the shirt, then collapse into bed, taking sam with you.

“you stink,” you complain lightheartedly, looking at him with honey-sweet love in your eyes. he wants to joke back, but he’s not quite there yet.

“i’ll shower after dean, if you want,” he offers, nothing but sincere. you smile at him, his nose inches from yours.

“but then you’d have to get up,” you say.

“sure, but if that’s what you want,” he repeats. he’d do anything for you, you think.

you shake your head. “that’s not what i want. i don’t want you to go. but i also want to fall asleep in your arms, and it sucks that you smell like blood, sweat, and nasty potions.”

“so what do i do, baby?” he asks, voice light, but you think he really means it. you melt at the pet name.

“hmmm,” you consider, truly not sure. you’re all quick in the shower after years of experience in motel bathrooms, but that still feels like such a long time to be away from him, especially since you should probably shower, too. you decide to suck it up. “you shower, then me. dean said the water was still hot yesterday, even when he went last.” you’re not sure when your voice dropped to a whisper, but it’s quiet now. he sighs, half disappointed, but knowing it’ll be much more comfortable that way.

the second you’re out of the shower and dressed, sam’s tugging you back into bed with him and tucking you into his chest. his hold is still protective and a little wary. you want to make him relax, so you wiggle away just a bit to look at his face.

“sam, i’m so hungry,” you complain. he smiles at you, thinking you’re too cute to resist when you whine just a little. and he just loves it when you say his name.

“you’re gonna make me get up again?” he asks, and you hold back a triumphant grin because his voice has turned pleasantly lighthearted.

“you’re gonna let me starve?” you tease back.

“fine,” he huffs, “we can go to the vending machine together.” he really doesn’t want to be far from you.

“no,” you protest, dragging out the ‘o’ just a little. “we had that earlier. and chips don’t count as a meal. poor dean probably hasn’t eaten at all today! we deserve a treat,” you argue.

sam can’t deny you anything you want in this moment. “we do,” he agrees, “what d’you want? maybe we can convince dean to pick it up for us.”

you smile. “mmm, that’s not fair. dean deserves a treat, too. i’ll satisfy myself with vending machine food for a few hours, then we can go out to an early dinner.”

“are you sure?” sam asks. you smile more.

“mhmm,” you nod. “i have the excuse to buy a candy bar too now.”

dean, splayed out on his own bed, has likely been listening in on this whole conversation, and graciously chosen not to interrupt. he smiles at you as you exit the room.

with a glance that no one’s around, sam slips his hand into yours as you make your way to the vending machine down the hall. your heart blooms at the feeling, at the way he’s been looking at you without shame and suddenly you realize you never said it back. sam punches in the number for an excessive amount of snacks, getting all of yours, his, and dean’s favorites, waiting til they all fall down to collect them. he bends over, gathering them all in his big arms and wide pockets and handing a few to you. the crinkling of plastic fills the quiet air as you watch him with a sort of worship and adoration dripping from your eyes. you take in the curve of his back, the peek of his spine that you get from his tshirt riding up a bit, and the pretty brown hair on the back of his head. when he stands, he catches that gaze, and for once you don’t hide it away or tuck it into that corner of the drawer where you keep all the little trinkets you don’t need, but can’t bear to get rid of. because you need this, and you can have this.

“i didn’t get to say it back.” your voice comes out hushed, reverent.

“say what?” he asks, matching his voice to yours without even trying. you take in all the subtle ways that his face changes, as he thinks about what you could mean. the left side of his mouth quirks down, just a bit, and his eyebrows pinch together. it’s not quite the expression he makes then he’s worried or upset, just thinking.

“i love you, too.” when those words finally escape, finally make themselves known and heard, everything is different. it’s like you’ve never really breathed before this, because the simplest of things, like an inhale that fills your lungs with stale motel air, is so good, so satisfying, so much better when he looks at you like that. “for as long as i can remember, sam, i love you. when we were kids at bobby’s, seventeen and getting soaked in the rain, every moment before then and every moment after, and–”

his lips are on yours and there’s a messy ruckus of plastic wrapped snacks being dropped to the floor, because he couldn’t care about anything except kissing you. his warm, rough hands are so gentle cupping your cheeks and pulling you into him, and you follow suit in disregarding the food in your hands to place them firm on his waist, almost squeezing his sides because you need this to be as real and as solid as it possibly can be.

some might question the merit of this being your first kiss with each other. but it’s so you and sam, standing in an empty motel hallway next to the vending machine and it’s crappy food scattered around your feet. plastic crinkling and rustling when you get closer, and a hunger so insatiable that it makes it hard to breathe.

when you finally break away, panting just a bit, sam’s eyes swim with concern as his mind flashes back to you just an hour ago.

“i’m okay,” you interrupt his paranoid thoughts and loop your arms around his neck, “i’m okay, sam. ‘s just you. baby, i know this is a horrible time to say this, but you always take my breath away, in the best way. you’re so pretty, and i’m so in love with you that when i look at you for too long, i forget to breathe, and–”

his lips are back on yours, telling you me too, me too, me too. saying as they push and mold against yours, you take my breath away and i love you for it.

[of-many-fandomss]

Request Rules:

Will not write:

-NSFW material

- Male!reader (sorry)

- Parings with non- x reader

I will write:

- x reader

- Romantic Pairings

- Platonic (familial, friendship, etc.) Pairings

- Female!reader

- GN!reader

- AU’s

Fandoms and characters:

- Bullet Train

• Ladybug

• Tangerine

- Supernatural

• Sam Winchester

• Dean Winchester

- Avengers

• Bucky Barnes

• (Tasm) Peter Parker

• Pietro Maximoff

• Matt Murdock

• Shang-Chi

• Loki

• Kraven the Hunter

- Golden Era

• Cedric Diggory

• Harry Potter

- Marauders Era

• Remus Lupin

• Sirius Black

• James Potter

• Regulus Black

- Top Gun

• Rooster

• Hangman

• Iceman

- Outer Banks

• JJ Maybank

• Rafe Cameron

- Star Wars

• Poe Dameron

• Din Djarin

- The Walking Dead

• Daryl Dixon

- The Boys

• Soldier Boy

[aayo-whatt]

I posted 1,615 times in 2022

That's 1,615 more posts than 2021!

76 posts created (5%)

1,539 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@gay-destiel

@aliens-took-my-iwa-chan

@spn-lesbian

@lord-kaira

@cocklesofmyheart

I tagged 617 of my posts in 2022

#spn - 71 posts

#supernatural - 60 posts

#castiel - 49 posts

#dean winchester - 48 posts

#destiel - 47 posts

#dean spn - 43 posts

#my question has been questioned - 38 posts

#castiel spn - 37 posts

#destiel spn - 34 posts

#spn incorrect quotes - 31 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#you're actually too powerful interesting and vocaloid to be dated by anyone. you're eternal and godly and no one can own you. you're a star

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Pirates Of The Caribbean - Will Turner x Reader (platonic)

Request: (from @gay-destiel ) ooh could you do a potc sibling!reader x will? mb the reader could have injured themselves doing something stupid and will is patching them up or something? dunno.. gn!reader used a/n: sorry this took so long, and it's still really short 😭😭 was this what you had in mind? it's how I took your idea, I hope you like it~

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

"Again? Really?" Will sighs, as he cleans the scratch on your face.

You give a lopsided grin, "Well, what can I say? I know how much you love when you get to patch me up."

He sticks a bandage to your face, "What did you do this time?"

"Someone didn't think I could jump from the tallest mast of The Black Pearl and not be injured."

"Someone?"

You stay silent, "Me. It was me. I had to prove a point to myself."

Will chuckles, "Your an idiot."

"Ya know ya love it." You stretch as you stand up, and before walking off you turn to your brother and say, "I've got a few more points to prove to myself."

"Y/n-"

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

12 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

#4

just harassed my friend into watching supernatural, feeling good

18 notes - Posted October 29, 2022

#3

~got bored so i put the winchester gays and their angel "buddies" in an incorrect quotes generator~

PART TWO BESTIES

~~

Adam, ordering coffee: I’d like a light roast. Dean: You're kinda ugly.

~~

Cas: It’s impossible to make a sentence without using the letter a. Michael: Despite your thinking, it is quite possible, yet difficult, to form one without the specific letter. Here’s one more to further disprove your theory. Gabe: Fuck you.

~~

Sam: Oh my Gabe. Dean: Don't you mean 'oh my god'? Sam: You worship your god, I'll worship mine.

HELLO- IM DYING RN-

~~

Michael: Swear words are illegal now. If you say one you'll be fined. Dean: Heck. Michael: You're on thin fucking ice. Michael: Oh no-

~~

Michael: If I had a face like yours, I'd put it on a wall and throw a brick at it. Gabe: If I had a face like YOURS, I'd put it on a brick and throw a wall at it.

~~

Michael: What's my sexuality?! I don't fucking know! I'm not straight, and that's all that matters. Well, maybe that's unfair to the straights. Some of my best friends are straight! Well, one of them. Well, I know them, and Dean is perfectly tolerable person in small doses!

~~

Cas: Dean, you're an asshole, man. Dean: You are what you eat Cas.

CACKLING SOBBING ON THE FLOOR DYING OH MY CHUCK-

~~

Michael: A mouse! Dean, pulling out a knife: Go back to where you came from or I'll stab you. Gabe, pulling out a frying pan: It'll make a nice meal! Adam, giving the mouse cheese: You deserve a treat, little guy. Cas, gasping: It's Ratatouille! Sam: His name is Remi, dummy. Michael: I was going to say to just trap it and throw it out the window... what is wrong with you people.

~~

Michael: *standing at the top of the stairs* What are y'all doing at the bottom of the staircase? Cas: I accidentally fell down. Gabe: DEAN PUSHED ME down the stairs because I refuse to pay THEIR part of our rent! Sam: Cas bet me fifty bucks that I couldn't reach the bottom of the stairs faster than they did falling down it, so I slide down the banister to get my money. Adam: I don't know how I got here. One moment, I was sleeping in my bed, three floors up, and then suddenly I was waking up here, just in time to get crushed by Sam.

~~

Michael: So... who's the big spoon and who's the little spoon? Cas: We're chopsticks! Michael: Well... that's cute! Michael: Does that mean you two snuggle together perfectly? Dean: No, it means that if you take the other away, the only thing the other is good for is stabbing.

~~

Dean: Standing next to sunflowers always makes me feel weak like ‘look at this fucking flower. This flower is taller than I am. This flower is winning and I’m losing.’ Sam: Wow, you are not ready to hear about trees.

~~

*Dean dies in a game with ships* Cas: This ship is no longer a ship of love, it's a ship of vengeance, a gavel of justice against all that is wrong in the world, showing no mercy, as no mercy was shown to us. Cas: The spark of love will now fuel the fires of destructive glory as I wage my war across the world with righteous fury. Gabe: Legend has it that Dean still haunts the ship, stealing my fucking drinks. Dean: Of course I do.

~~

Adam with a gun to Sam's head: What happens if I pull this trigger? Heaven? Sam: Bold of you to assume I'll go to Heaven.

See the full post

56 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

#2

got bored so i put the winchester gays and their angel "buddies" in an incorrect quotes generator here are the highlights-

why is there so much of gabe- ALSO THE GENERATOR SHIPS SABRIEL-

~~

*out grocery shopping* Castiel: *takes a free sample twice* Castiel: Robbery and Fraud. I am a Rebel.

~~

Gabriel: Why do you think I don’t like you? I do. I would kill for you. Gabriel: Ask me to kill for you. Sam: ...First of all, calm down-

~~

Michael: The odds of this happening by coincidence are vanishingly small. Castiel: I would say infinitesimally. Gabriel: And I'd say teenily-weenily. We all know words.

~~

Sam: You know, Gabriel, when you generalize, you tell general... lies. Gabriel: ... Gabriel: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

~~

Gabriel: I am not a lunatic. I have the psychiatric report to prove it. A slender majority of the panel decided in my favour.

~~

Gabriel: Wait you like me? For my personality? Sam: I know, I was surprised too.

~~

Sam: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon? Dean: I'm a knife. Castiel, from across the room: He's the little spoon.

~~

Gabriel: There are some things beyond our understanding. We must accept them and learn from them. Because these moments of crisis are also potential moments of faith. A time, when we either come together or fall apart. Nature always has a way of balancing itself. The only question is, what part will we play? Sam: Did you just make that up? Gabriel: No. I read it in a fortune cookie once. Sam: Gabriel: A really long fortune cookie.

~~

Adam: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life. Castiel: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind? Adam: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die. Gabriel: Edible.

~~

Adam: Go big or go home! Michael: Please, for once in your life just go home. I'm begging you. Go. Home. Adam: I'm going big!

~~

Sam: That's not funny. Gabriel: I thought it was funny. Sam: You don't count. You started laughing in the middle of a funeral because you started thinking of a meme you saw on Facebook.

~~

there will almost definitely be a part two-

PART 2

@gay-destiel ?

69 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Stranger Things -- Robin x reader

non-binary!reader used a/n: idrk what i did with this but yeah, its really short also this was my first time writing something like this, so i hope you like it! ^^

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

Robin sighed, walking into your room. She flopped over to the bed where you were lying, and sat down on your legs.

"Rough day?" you ask.

"Mmf," Robin smooshes her face into the crook of your neck.

You wrap your arms around Robin's waist, pulling her closer to you, "I'll take that as a yes, then."

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

requested by @alonezz on a blog by lyralit, not sure if this is what you wanted but I tried.

72 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[toadspondofwhimsy]

Masterlist

Charlie Bradbury

Wildflower - SUMMARY: Cas and Dean can’t stand to see their best friend single any more, so they set them up on a blind date with their other friend, Charlie.  PAIRING: Charlie Bradbury x gn!Original Character

Harvest Moon - SUMMARY: Phoenix and Charlie are on another date, this time they’re apple picking and baking a pie together. Their friends join in to eat some pie with them. PAIRING: Charlie Bradbury x gn!Original Character

Winchester Brothers

Ain't No Apple Pie - SUMMARY: You got out, left the life, but you’re miserable and looking for a way back in.  PAIRING: Platonic!Sam Winchester x gn!Reader, Platonic!Dean Winchester x gn!Reader.