#sammy wallpapers

[prplocks]

✧❁ wallpaper 〴 sammy ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

reblog if you save ➳

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[dramalocks]

☇✈ sammy; simple ♡❞

☇ like or reblog ⋮ @moodscreens

☇ don’t repost our edits.

[hurricanejane]

for the girlies who like fine wine.

[florenceandtheinkmachine]

sammy lawrence + alice angel lockscreens and wallpapers i made for my friend and i

sammy:

the Ink Demon is intended as a lockscreen! on standard android or apple phones, ‘that’s all folks!’ will be visible when there are no notifications on the screen.

alice angel:

feel free to use! all art belongs to the original artists, although i try to source my images from official sources and public domain material (stock photos and assets)

[yearningghostie]

I go feral for Sammy's brown jacket👉👈

[ikvgai]

[fuiabarcelos]

Sam + The eras tour

I am simply addicted to Taylor Swift and I made some Sam's wallpapers inspired by her albums. I decided to make them available here.

All the images I used are from Pinterest.

[rainyreyn9]

A little late night flight between the trio :'3

This was heavily inspired by one of my lovely friend's drawings, I decided to draw it in my style as well with Artie being added in. Idk how correct his color palette is, but all I know is that we're all dual colored hair so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[brainfilehasstoppedworking]

WHEEEEEE MY NEW WALLPAPER!!!! :D

Progress and how it looks below :3

How it looks :3 (my brightness is down don't mind that djebe.)

[elisiassideb1tch]

🖤 || Sammi Karras Wallpaper || 🖤

@enid-rhees @ofcutsandoffire <3

[dramalocks]

☇✈ sammy ; simple ♡❞

☇ like or reblog ⋮ @moodscreens

☇ don’t repost our edits.

[hurricanejane]

can't stop, won't stop.

[angel-blitz]

Old Art trade I did with noreentheartist on deviantart!

[totentnz]

so deep in the johnny sauce i didnt even THINK to check wallpaper engine for astarion

[wendichester]

°‧⋆.🐋*:･ swimming lesson,

summary. the motel has a pool!

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 708.

The motel is nothing special—peeling wallpaper, creaky beds, the faint smell of mildew—but it's got something the others never do: a pool. Of course, it's small and probably questionable on hygiene, but it's there.

Dean notices it immediately, tucked in the back, lit by a dim overhead lamp. The water ripples gently, reflecting the neon motel sign. He doesn't say much when he sees it, but later, after burgers and beers, he grabs a towel, shoots you a look, and declares, "I'm hitting the pool."

You glance up from your laptop, surprised. “The pool? Since when do you care about swimming?”

He shrugs, that familiar cocky grin tugging at his lips. “Since now. You coming, or are you just gonna sit there like a nerd?”

You hesitate, but the way he looks at you, all challenge and mischief, makes it impossible to say no. "Fine," you grumble, grabbing your own towel. "But only because I'm bored."

When you get to the pool, Dean wastes no time. He tosses his towel onto a lounge chair, pulling off his flannel and T-shirt in one smooth motion. You try not to look—try really hard—but the man's built like a Greek god, all broad shoulders and taut muscle.

"You coming, or you just here for the view?" Dean's already in the water, hair damp while a few strands fall into his eyes, and the smirk he gives you is downright infuriating. "Come, on. It's not even cold."

You cross your arms, staying firmly rooted to the edge. "I'm good right here."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Seriously? You scared of water or something?"

You glance away, suddenly self-conscious. "I just... I don't know how to swim, alright?"

Dean stops mid-float, his head whipping toward you. "Wait, what?" He's standing now, water dripping from his hair as he stares at you like you've just admitted to never eating pie. "How the hell do you not know how to swim? Do you know how basic that is?"

You scowl, crossing your arms. "Yeah, well, at least I don't have to travel by car everywhere because I'm too afraid to fly!"

Dean scoffs, muttering under his breath, "Damn it, Sammy." He looks back at you, rolling his eyes. "That's different. Planes crash!"

"And people drown!" you fire back.

Dean exhales sharply, running a hand through his wet hair. “Fine, fine. But you’re learning right now. No way I’m letting you live like this.”

“Dean—”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his tone softer now. “Just trust me on this. I’m not letting you drown. Not on my watch, sweetheart.”

You hesitate, but the sincerity in his eyes is hard to argue with. With a sigh, you strip down to your underwear, the closest thing you have to a swimsuit. Dean whistles low, his grin widening as you inch toward the water.

You glare at him for a second longer before sighing again. "This is such a bad idea."

"Nah," he says, already wading toward you. "Worst case scenario, I can totally give you mouth-to-mouth."

You snort as you're too focused on lowering yourself into the shallow end, water lapping at your waist. "You're terrible."

He grins as he moves closer. “Now, first lesson: floating.”

You groan, whining. “I'm so drowning.”

“Nah,” he says, his hands finding your waist as he guides you gently into the water. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

It takes a few tries, but soon you’re floating, his hands steady beneath your back. He’s surprisingly patient, his voice calm as he talks you through it.

“There you go,” he says, pride evident in his tone. “You’re a natural.”

You laugh, still nervous but feeling a little more confident. “A natural at not sinking?”

“Hey, it’s a start.”

For the next hour, he teaches you the basics—floating, kicking, keeping your head above water. The whole time, he’s close, his hands never far from yours, his touch firm but reassuring.

By the end of the night, you’re sitting on the edge of the pool, your legs dangling in the water. Dean floats lazily in the deep end, his arms resting on the edge as he watches you.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, smirking.

You roll your eyes, but there’s a soft smile on your face. “Not bad.”

taglist ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[midnightdahlias]

Sparks of the Apocalypse

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summery - you decide to go visit Bobby but are suprised by a certain stranger word count - 1.7K cws - fem!reader, pure fluff, mentions of violence (if you squint) lmk if i missed anything a/n - hope you enjoy this, sammy my beloved. I apologise for any mistakes, english isn't my first language. BUT I hope you like it either way and again any feedback is appreciated ! as are rebloggs and comments. happy reading !

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Being a hunter sucked sometimes. Scratch that, it sucked most of the time. You were always on the road, bouncing between crappy motels with peeling wallpaper and water pressure so bad you wondered why you even bothered showering. It wasn’t glamorous. But after a long day of getting tossed into walls and dodging claws or teeth, you’d sleep on the hood of your car if it came to that.

Still, there were moments. Rare ones. Like now. When you’d get a break long enough to drive to the only place that ever really felt like home. Bobby’s house.

Bobby Singer was, to put it mildly, a godsend.

Bobby had a reputation among hunters as the go-to guy. Need lore? Call Bobby. Fake supervisor for a cover story? Bobby’s your man. Need someone to vent to? Bobby would listen, grumbling all the while. Over the years, you’d grown close to him. He’d known your parents before you, and when they were busy chasing monsters, he’d looked after you. Bobby was more than just a friend, he was family. You always thought he’d have made a damn good dad. Though in many ways, he already was one.

After a particularly grueling hunt, you decided to head to Bobby’s, you needed more than a beer and a chat. Ever since the apocalypse started, it felt like every supernatural creature had lost its mind. Things were kicking into high gear, leading to longer nights and more close calls in a week than in your entire career. Oddly enough, you thrived under the pressure. Sure, the extra cuts and bruises were annoying, but it was the apocalypse, it was never going to be margaritas on a beach.

As you pulled into Bobby’s driveway, a sense of comfort and relief washed over you. The place always felt safe and welcoming, though you weren’t sure if that was because of the house itself or the man who lived there.

A black Chevrolet Impala sat parked outside, a car you didn’t recognize. Wonder who that belongs to, you thought, but you didn’t dwell on it. All you wanted was to kick your feet up and crack open a cold one.

Knocking on the door, you expected Bobby’s usual grumpy greeting, but today the door creaked open to reveal… definitely not Bobby.

Stood in the doorway was a younger man. The first thing you noticed about him was how tall he was, towering over your smaller frame. His soft hazel eyes caught your attention next, followed by his sharp but delicate features and the semi-long hair brushing just below his jaw. There was no denying it, he was handsome. For a moment, you stood frozen, your words caught in your throat. “Uh, hi. Who are you?” he asked, blinking down at you like he was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

You cleared your throat, trying not to stare. “Hey. Is Bobby home?” Not answering his question. ome would call it paranoia, you called it precaution but as good-looking as this stranger was, you weren’t about to share your name with someone you didn’t know.

He tilted his head, clearly debating whether or not to let you in. Before he could answer, Bobby’s familiar grumble echoed from somewhere inside.

“What’s takin’ so long? Who’s at the—oh.” Bobby wheeled into view, his grumpy expression softening when he saw you. “Well, I’ll be damned. Kid, get in here.”

You smiled, stepping inside to hug him. “Miss me?”

“Not really,” Bobby deadpanned, but you caught the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I would’ve called ahead,” you said with a smirk, “but since I never do, I figured why start now?”

Bobby chuckled, shaking his head. “Smartass.’’

Behind him, the tall guy was still standing there, looking amused. And at somepoint during your greating with Bobby, a second guy had appeared. He was shorter than the other, he also had green eyes and a cocky smirk. Great, you thought. Who are these guys?

“Who’s this?” the newcomer asked.

“This,” Bobby said, gesturing to you, “is one of the best damn hunters I know. And a lot more sensible than you two idjits, I’ll tell ya that much. Sam, shut the door before we all catch pneumonia.”

Sam.

You’d heard that name tossed around a lot lately, along with his brother’s. Hunters and monsters alike seemed to have plenty to say about the Winchester brothers, especially Sam, none of it good. But standing here now, looking at Sam, he didn’t seem dangerous or evil, just tired. Hurt, even. But as your eyes caught his, there was something else there aswell, something you couldn’t quite place.

Bobby’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Sit down, kid. Beer’s in the fridge. You look like you’ve been through hell.”

“Feels like it, too,” you muttered, plopping down on the couch.

Over beers in Bobby’s living room, the four of you swapped stories. Dean was charismatic, cracking jokes as he recounted close calls from past hunts. Sam, though quieter, was kind and insightful. You caught yourself glancing at him more often than you intended, and each time, you found his eyes already on you.

When Bobby suggested ordering food, you volunteered to cook instead. It was rare to get the chance to make a proper meal, and you weren’t about to pass it up. Bobby’s kitchen wasn’t exactly stocked, so a quick trip to the store had been necessary, but you didn’t mind so much, you liked cooking, it gave you a sense of calm.

You were halfway through chopping vegetables when you heard a soft voice behind you.

“Need a hand?”

You turned to see Sam hovering in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, a small smile tugging at his lips, looking almost… shy?

“Sure,” you said, handing him a knife and some vegetables.

You worked side by side, exchanging small talk to fill the silence. Normally, you were confident around men, but something about Sam made you nervous, in a good way. A different kind of nervous than the one you’d expect to feel around someone who’d let Lucifer out of his cage. His presence was calming, his smile disarming.

When your hands brushed as he passed you the cutting board, you froze. The touch was light, fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you like static electricity. Your breath hitched as a faint blush crept over your cheeks, but you quickly turned back to the stove, hoping to shake the feeling. What the hell is wrong with me? you thought, trying to push it all down. You weren’t usually this affected by anyone, let alone someone you’d just met.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam was just as affected. Behind you, he stood just as still, his heart thudding in his chest, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

From the moment he opened the door, he’d felt drawn to you. The way you spoke, the warmth in your laugh—it all felt oddly familiar, like you belonged here.

In the next room, Dean leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the show. He nudged Bobby with a grin. Not even trying to hide his amusement.

“You seeing this?” he whispered, nodding toward the kitchen.

Bobby shot him a lookover his glass of whiskey. “They’re like a couple of deer caught in headlights,” he muttered. “Painful.”

Dean chuckled under his breath. “Think we should do something? You know, give ’em a little push?”

“Hell no,” Bobby said, shaking his head. “This is the most entertainment I’ve had in weeks.

Back in the kitchen, you worked in tense silence, trying to ignore the fact that you could feel Sam’s eyes on you. Every time you glanced up, there he was, watching you with an intensity that sent another wave of warmth crawling up your neck.

Normally, being stared at like that would’ve set you on edge, but Sam’s gaze wasn’t threatening. There was something soft about it, it was sweet, and that made it so much worse.

He cleared his throat suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Uh…anything else you need help with?”

His voice was low, gentle, and it only made your heart trip over itself again. You turned to him, forcing a casual smile despite the fluttering in your chest. “Nope, I think I’ve got it from here. Thanks, though.”

“Right. Yeah. Sure,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

It was such a small, awkward exchange, but it left you rattled. You found yourself hyperaware of every move he made, the way he leaned against the counter, the way his hair fell in his eyes when he glanced down.

And Sam? He wasn’t faring any better. The sound of your voice, the way your lips curved when you smiled, it was like you’d bewitched him without even trying. Though he wasn’t about to start complaining

In the next room, Bobby and Dean exchanged another knowing look.

“Think they’ll figure it out on their own?” Dean asked.

Bobby took a long sip of his drink before answering. “Doubt it. But watching ’em try sure is entertaining.”

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