I'm a princess of hell

Love u!!! <3

𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!reader

Summary: Sam gets very drunk and turns into a complete sap.  An: hiya!! This was a bit of a complicated write for me, mostly because it’s hard for me to imagine Sam drunk, and if he was to get drunk I think he’d be more of like a sad, self loathing drunk, however, this was so cute to write!! I do love a drunk Sam fic I can’t lie. I hope you enjoy it anon!! WC: 1.3k - Sam Masterlist

You hadn't meant to let Sam get as drunk as he did. In fact you hadn't meant to let Sam get drunk at all, this was all deans doing. Encouraging him to 'let loose and drink to your hearts content' his words exactly.

⋆｡ ˚ sad little puppy boy

summary ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ sam comes to your auntie’s house looking for answers, and you see too much of him too quickly—the grief, the guilt, and the want he’s trying very hard not to feel. pairing ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ sam winchester x missouri’s niece!reader ( f ; woc ) ft. dean wordcount ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ 1946 genre ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ angsty fluff warnings ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ grief after jess’s death, psychic/emotional reading, intense longing, almost-kiss, sam pulling away, mild teasing, dean catching strays

notes ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ִ❀໋ do yall know that moment when the idea is really good but you try to execute and it turns out eh. this is it for me. do i like it? i don't know anymore. i hope you do!

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the first thing you hear is your auntie’s voice cutting through the house like she already knows trouble has stepped onto the porch.

“don’t you track mud on my floor, dean winchester,” she calls from the kitchen before anyone even knocks. “and don’t you start touching things either. i know how your hands get when you’re nervous.”

there’s a pause outside the door—then a man’s voice, offended and low, says, “i’m not nervous.”

Word Count: 673

Warnings: Sammy is lovestruck, FLUFFFF, mentions of Sammy wanting a soft life

Plot: You and Sam have a day to yourselves, and you decide to go to the local farmer’s market.

A/N: This summer weather is making me CRAVEEEE a little day out. This is also, unabashedly, based on me and my real-life partner. He has the heart of Sammy Winchester, let me tell ya <3

Sam x reader fluff

based off the episode "yellow fever" but not entirely accurate

mentions of death and dying! but it's just reader freaking out

summary: you get yellow fever and Sam is there to comfort you

posted may 29 2026

 slowly You had gotten a scratch on your wrist yesterday.

Three long lines, too clean to be accidental, carved across your skin by something fast in the dark. At first it hadn’t seemed like much. Dean slapped a bandage over it, Sam promised they’d figure out what creature caused it, and you kept hunting.But now the cuts itched.

Badly.

It felt like something crawling beneath your skin.Currently, the three of you stood outside a brick apartment building after interviewing Mr. Garland about his missing brother. Dean had gotten information, Sam had taken notes, and you.. Well you’d spent the entire conversation staring at the fake FBI badge in Dean’s hand and waiting for sirens.

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

What if somebody checked the badges?

What if the real FBI showed up?

What if you all got arrested?

You could already picture it: handcuffs, interrogation rooms, Dean mouthing off to a federal agent until things got worse somehow….The apartment door shut behind you, making you jump hard enough that Dean looked over.

“Easy there,” he muttered.

You ignored him, pacing beside the Impala while rubbing your sweaty palms against your jacket.

“This is insane,”

you blurted suddenly.

 “Like actually insane. Why the hell do we hunt? We lie to cops, we break into places, everything wants to kill us-”

Dean shut the trunk with a loud bang.You flinched so hard your shoulders nearly hit your ears.Sam exchanged a glance with Dean.That look made your stomach twist worse.They knew something was wrong.

“This is so idiotic!”

 you continued, voice climbing higher.

 “We’re gonna die! I bet tonight I’m gonna die by some freaky monster!”

Dean leaned against the Impala, arms crossed. There was the tiniest smirk tugging at his mouth. Not mocking. More… amused. Yesterday you’d decapitated a vampire without blinking. Now you looked ready to cry over a fake badge.

“We won’t let that happen,”

 Dean said.

 “Now get in the car, kid. We gotta head back to the motel.”

“No!”

Both brothers blinked.

“If I go back there,” 

you said, backing away from the Impala,

 “then we’re just gonna keep fighting and fighting and fighting— I don’t wanna do this anymore!”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“I’m done trying to save the world from the apocalypse! I’m done talking to angels and demons and all those creepy things! I quit!”

The words echoed across the parking lot. Dean’s smirk disappeared. Sam stepped forward carefully, like approaching a frightened animal.

“Hey,”

 Sam said gently.

 “Where are you going?”

“Away from here.”

Then you turned and walked off.

“Hey!”

You ignored Sam calling after you. The farther you got from the Impala, the harder it became to breathe. Every sound around you felt sharpened and wrong. Car horns made you jump. Passing strangers looked suspicious. The evening shadows stretched too long across the sidewalk.

Then you heard it.

A bark.

You froze. Slowly, you turned your head. It was just a dog. Small. Scruffy. Barely bigger than someone’s backpack.To any normal person, it would’ve looked harmless.

To you, it looked gigantic.

Its teeth looked too sharp.

Its bark sounded vicious.

Your pulse exploded.

“Oh my God—”

The dog trotted toward you innocently.

You ran.

Your shoes slammed against the pavement as panic overtook every rational thought in your head. You could hear barking behind you and it sounded closer every second. Your lungs burned. People stared as you shoved past them.

“There’s a dog!”

you shouted desperately to a homeless man sitting beside an alley.

 “You need to move!”

He looked at you like you’d lost your mind. Maybe you had. Another bark. You bolted again. Tears blurred your vision as you ran through icy evening air until finally the motel sign came into view. You nearly sobbed in relief. You sprinted to the Winchesters’ room and pounded on the door hard enough to rattle it.

“OPEN UP!”

The door swung open almost instantly. Sam stood there, phone in hand, concern immediately flooding his face. Before he could speak, you shoved past him.

“Close it!” you yelled. “Close it NOW!”

Sam quickly shut and locked the door. You stumbled backward into the motel room, breathing hard while your eyes darted toward the curtains. Dean wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. He was probably still out looking for you. Sam approached slowly.

“Hey,”

he said softly. 

“Hey, shh… what happened? Why were you running?”

You paced frantically instead of answering. Your hands shook violently.

Then—

Bark.

Muffled from outside. You gasped and slapped both hands over your mouth.

“It’s there,”

 you whispered.

 “It followed me.”

Sam glanced toward the window. Realization dawned in his eyes almost immediately.

“The dog?”

“That thing is NOT a dog.”

Sam sighed through his nose, fighting a smile. You stared at him in disbelief.

“Nothing is funny about this, Samuel!”

“I know,”

 he said quickly, though the smile lingered at the corners of his mouth.

 “I’m sorry.”

Honestly, it was ridiculous. You were one of the toughest hunters he knew — right behind Dean and Bobby. He’d seen you walk into nests alone. Seen you take punches that should’ve broken bones. Seen you stare monsters in the face without blinking. Now a tiny terrier had you trembling. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so concerning. Sam stepped closer carefully.

“You’re safe now,”

he promised quietly. His hands came up, thumbs gently brushing tears from beneath your eyes. The touch grounded you a little. Your breathing stuttered. Sam tilted your chin so you’d look at him instead of the window.

“Look at me,” 

he said softly. 

“There’s no monster dog outside. Just a regular dog.”

You swallowed hard.

“It looked huge.”

“I know.”

“I thought it was gonna kill me.”

His expression softened even more at that.

“You should’ve stayed with us.”

The shame hit immediately.

You looked away.

Sam reached for his phone again.

 “I’m gonna call Dean and tell him you’re back.”

The second he lifted the phone— A loud knock hit the motel door. You jumped so violently you nearly crashed into Sam.

“Jesus—”

Another knock.

“Sammy! Open up!”

Dean.

Sam opened the door to reveal Dean he took one look at your face and frowned.

“Whoa,” he muttered, stepping inside the motel room. “You okay?”

The buzzing in your ears got louder. You stared at both brothers, chest tightening painfully as dread settled heavy in your stomach. Your hands shook against your sleeves.

“Guys…” 

your voice cracked.

 “I’m gonna die in a few hours.”

Sam’s expression softened instantly.

“Hey, no you’re not—”

“I’m serious,” you whispered. “I’m so scared.”

Dean sighed quietly, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I’m gonna grab food,” 

he muttered, glancing toward Sam.

 “Should’ve gotten some earlier.”

The motel door opened again. You barely processed Deans awkward exit. Your focus stayed locked on Sam. The room suddenly felt colder. Too cold. The buzzing in your ears faded into silence. Sam looked at you from across the room, unreadable. Then he spoke.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “You are.”

Your stomach dropped.

“What?”

“You’re gonna die,” 

he continued calmly. 

“Just like Dean.”

Your breathing stopped.

Sam tilted his head slightly, shadows stretching unnaturally across his face.

“Straight to Hell.”

Then his eyes flashed yellow.

You stumbled backward hard enough to hit the wall.

“No!-”

The thing wearing Sam smiled. Not Sam’s smile. Something crueler.

“You get outta Sammy!” 

you shouted, panic finally breaking through as tears filled your eyes. 

“He didn’t do anything!”

The demon laughed softly.

“See, that’s the funny part,” it said. “I’m not possessing anything.”

It stepped closer.

Slow.

Calm.

Terrifying.

“This is who I am,” it whispered. “This is what I become.”

Your entire body locked up in fear. The demon lifted a hand. Pain slammed into you instantly as invisible force pinned you against the wall. A strangled gasp left your throat.

“You think hunting saves people?” 

Yellow Eyes asked quietly. 

“It destroys them. Look at all of you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Stop—”

“Dean’s doomed.”

Your heart hammered violently.

“Sam’s next.”

“Stop!”

“And you?” 

the demon smiled wider.

 “You were dead the second you got scratched.”

Your vision blurred completely.

Then suddenly—

“Hey!”

A hand grabbed your shoulder.

“Hey, hey, hey—come on.”

The cold vanished.

You blinked hard. Sam was crouched in front of you, both hands on your arms, concern written all over his face. The motel room looked normal again. No yellow eyes. No demon. Just Sam. Your breathing came out ragged as you stared at him.

“Shh,” Sam murmured softly. “You’re okay.”

You looked around wildly for another second before realizing you were half-collapsed against the wall. Sam gently tapped your cheek.

“Come back to me,”

he said quietly.

 “There you go.”

Your eyes met his. Normal green eyes. Not yellow. You swallowed hard and gave a tiny nod. Sam exhaled in relief.

“Was it another hallucination?”

You nodded again, slower this time.

“What did you see?”

You hesitated.

Then quietly:

“Yellow Eyes.”

Sam went still for half a second. Not fear. Just understanding. Ghost sickness preyed on fear. And after everything that demon had done to Sam and Dean… of course your mind went there. Sam carefully helped you sit on the edge of the bed.

“You’re safe,” 

he reminded gently.

 “None of that was real.”

“It felt real.”

“I know.”

His voice stayed soft and steady, grounding you.

“You’re not dying tonight,” he promised. “Dean and I are gonna fix this.”

Your eyes burned again.

“You can’t promise that.”

Sam was quiet for a moment.

Then he reached over and tucked part of your hair away from your face.

“We’ll try anyway.”

Later that night, after Dean came back with greasy diner food and spent ten whole minutes pretending he definitely wasn’t worried about you, the motel finally grew quiet. The lights were dim. The TV hummed low in the background. You couldn’t sleep. Every creak outside made your chest tighten. Every passing shadow looked wrong. At some point Sam noticed. Without saying anything, he shifted beside you on the bed and opened an arm slightly. An invitation. You hesitated only a second before curling against him. Your head rested against his chest while his arms settled carefully around you, warm and steady. Sam’s hand moved slowly up and down your back in gentle motions.

“It’s okay,”

 he murmured quietly above your head. You could hear his heartbeat beneath your ear. Slow. Calm. Real. Not a hallucination. Your breathing finally started to even out. Sam kept lightly rubbing your back until your eyes drifted shut. And even then, he didn’t stop.

this is a very shitty ending.. oh well,

i fished supernatural.. :( I wont spoil anything for the people who haven't fished it, but the ending was so good, I cried the whole time , but then I realized I could just re watch it..

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paring: sam winchester x fem!reader

genre: MDNI, SMUT SMUT SMUT !!!! dirty dreams, HELLA DIRTY TALK, use of ‘good girl,’ kinda inspired by that one episode where Sam had that dream about Bella

Sam's head lolled forward, the worn leather of the motel chair creaking under his weight. His fingers were still wrapped around a half empty beer bottle condensation dripping onto the faded jeans stretched over his thighs. The laptop screen had gone dark minutes ago or was it an hour? He'd been poring over lore about some hellhound variant but exhaustion had finally dragged him under.

The motel room was quiet just the hum of the ancient AC unit and the occasional thump from the room next door. Dean and Y/N were out grabbing food, which meant Sam had the place to himself. He'd meant to stay awake, keep researching but three days of consecutive hunts had left his body screaming for rest.

And before he knew it his head was against the table.

You appeared in the doorway of the motel room, but it wasn't the same door it was softer, warmer somehow and the edges blurred like honey. Sam watched from his chair as you stepped inside, your movements slow and deliberate. You wore that tight black top he'd seen you in earlier, the one that hugged every curve and jeans that sat low on your hips.

"Hey” you said, your voice a low purr that sent a shiver straight to his groin.

Sam's breath hitched. "Hey."

You reached behind your neck, pulling the top over your head in one fluid motion. The fabric slid away, revealing your bare breasts, nipples already hard in the cool air of the dream motel. You tossed the shirt aside your eyes locked on his.

"Been thinking about you all day" you murmured, fingers working the button of your jeans.

Sam's mouth went dry. He couldn't look away, couldn't move. You pushed the jeans down your thighs watching them fall to the floor. You stepped out of them now only in a pair of black lace panties.

"Come here” he rasped, his voice rough with want.

But you didn't walk. You turned slowly bending over to pick up the jeans giving him a perfect view of your ass in those tiny panties. The curve of it, the way the lace stretched over your flesh Sam felt his cock thicken painfully in his jeans.

When you turned back, a smirk played on your lips. You sauntered toward him and stopped just inches from his chair. He could smell you, sweet and musky, that scent he'd caught on your skin during the hunt now amplified and intoxicating.

"Sam” you breathed, reaching out to trace a finger along his jawline.

He grabbed your wrist but not to stop you. His other hand shot out hooking his fingers through the loop on your panties and with a sharp tug he pulled you forward. You stumbled, landing half in his lap, your knees hitting the edge of the chair.

"Fuck” you gasped your hands bracing against his broad chest.

Sam's grip on the loop tightened yanking you again until you were straddling his thighs. The denim of his jeans pressed against the thin lace of your panties. He could feel the heat of your cunt through the fabric a damp warmth that made his dick throb.

"You think you can just walk in here strip down and tease me?" His voice was low a growl that vibrated through his chest “You have no idea what you do to me."

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn't look away. "Then show me."

A dark laugh rumbled from him. His hands slid from your hips to your ass gripping hard fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pulled you closer grinding your core against the thick bulge in his jeans. You moaned your head falling back.

"That's it" Sam said his mouth finding your throat. He licked a hot stripe up the side of your neck then bit down gently on your earlobe. "I love how responsive you are. The way you gasp when I touch you. Like you were made for me."

You whimpered, your hips bucking against his. He could feel your wetness soaking through the lace, leaving a damp patch on his jeans. His control frayed.

"Tell me what you want" he demanded pulling back to look into your eyes. His pupils were blown wide, nearly black and his breathing was ragged.

"I want you to fuck me" you said your voice shaking.

"Good girl." He kissed you then hard and demanding, his tongue sliding into your mouth. One hand griped at the base of neck forcing you to tilt your head back, while the other traced down your stomach slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

His fingers found your clit already slick and swollen. You gasped against his lips as he circled it with his thumb, pressing just hard enough to make you see stars.

"Look at you" he murmured, his lips brushing yours. "So wet so ready. And it's all for me isn't it?"

"Yes" you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"That's my good fucking girl." He shoved your panties aside, his fingers sliding through your folds, gathering your wetness. He groaned at the feel of you "I'm going to fill this perfect pussy so full of my cock. You're going to take every inch and you're going to love it."

You nodded frantically, your body trembling.

He pushed two fingers inside you, a sudden deep stretch that made you cry out. Your head dropped to his shoulder as he fucked you with his fingers, curling them just right hitting that spot that made your toes curl.

"Please Sam" you begged, your voice a wreck.

"Please what?" He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth. He sucked them clean tasting you his eyes never leaving yours. "You want my cock? You want me to fuck you until you can't walk?"

"Yes, please, yes!"

He grabbed your hips, positioning you over his lap. His cock strained against his jeans the zipper digging into him. He was about to free himself, to pull it out and bury himself inside you-

The world shifted.

Sam jolted awake, his heart hammering in his chest. The motel room was real again dim, stale and the AC rattling. He was still in the chair, the beer bottle now warm on the desk. But his body was on fire, his cock rock hard and aching, straining against the fly of his jeans.

And then he heard it.

The door clicked open.

You stepped inside, a plastic bag of takeout in your hand. Your eyes landed on him, concern creasing your brow.

"Sam? You okay? You look like you saw a ghost"

He blinked, trying to process. You were fully dressed jeans, a loose flannel, no sign of the black top or lace. The real you, standing there in the ordinary motel room.

"Uh, yeah" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "Fine. Just fell asleep."

"Didn't mean to startle you" you set the bag on the small table moving closer. "You sure? You're all red and sweating."

Sam shifted, trying to angle his hips away but the bulge in his jeans was impossible to hide. He grabbed a throw pillow from the chair and dropped it into his lap pressing it down to mask the obvious tent.

"Yeah just a weird dream" he forced a smile. "Nothing to worry about."

You tilted your head, suspicion flickering in your eyes but you let it go. "Alright. Dean'll be back in a few. I got burgers”

Sam nodded gripping the pillow like a lifeline as you turned to unpack the food, he let out a shaky breath his mind still replaying the feel of your skin, your taste, the sound of your moans.

It was just a dream.

But fuck, he wished it wasn't.

💌 taglist:

Sam Winchester x Reader

Sammy has a surprise for you.

When you woke up the room was dark, with the exception of the faint digital clock light. You reached for it, trying to take a better look at the time: it was a lot later than usual, you had probably forgotten to set the alarm the night before. You turned around to wake up Sam, but to your surprise he wasn't there sleeping next to you. Your phone showed no new texts from him, so maybe he was just making breakfast in the kitchen.

You got up to get dressed and join him, but when you got to the kitchen no one was there. You looked around calling out for Sam and Dean: the bunker was empty.

Babe, everything ok?

Where are you?

Good morning, baby.

Be back soon. Love you.

The quick reply to your text stopped the panic from taking over your head. You made coffee and headed to the library. You patiently waited for your old laptop to turn on as you needed it to look up new cases.

Half an hour later you heard the loud screeching of the bunker door and heavy footsteps coming down the metal stairs: Sammy.

"Hey, baby, sorry I didn't warn you I was going out. I wanted you to sleep in since you were so tired last night. How are you?" Sam leaned in for a quick kiss.

"I think I slept 9 hours straight, actually. Which for a hunter is worth like three nights' sleep. I feel energized." You smiled and hugged him, but when you placed your hand on his chest you saw Sam curve his bottom lip in pain.

"What happened? Were you hunting? Are you hurt?" With no hesitation you grabbed the collar of his shirt to take a look at his collarbone and chest. And there it was: a gauze pad placed to the left of his anti-possession tattoo, slightly above it.

"It's fine. Don't worry. It hurts a bit only because it's fresh. It was actually a surprise, I wanted to show it to you tonight."

"What surprise? A fighting wound? What did you hunt alone?" You were starting to get mad.

"Babe, no. It's a tattoo."

"Oh, I'm curious, I wanna see. May I?"

"Sure, after all it's for you too. Come here." Sammy walked over to the big table and sat on it, legs apart allowing you to get closer. He unbuttoned his shirt, then waited for you to remove the gauze.

Above a beautifully written

until my last breath

there was your name. Your name, in vivid black ink on his skin.

"You're crazy!" A big smile appeared on your face.

"You might be right. But I've been thinking about this for a while and it feels right. I've got wounds and scars from every son of a bitch that ever tried to kill me. I think it's fair my skin is also marked by something that reminds me the good stuff. That reminds me what I fight for and that I need to be safe because there's someone counting on me. I wanted a way to keep you with me, always. So... Well, now you know what I think about every time we go hunting."

"Oh babe, I love you so much. It's beautiful." Your heart had never felt so full of love and admiration before, you were feeling much more than you could express at the moment. You carefully kissed his shoulder and neck, finally reaching his lips.

Sammy returned your wet, passionate kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You heard someone coming down the stairs. "Get a room, you two! Nobody wants to see all that!" Dean snorted.

fem!reader x Sam ⟢ ✧ MASTERLIST ✧ About + Masterlist for Penumbra

Summary: Reader is invisible, cursed to walk the Earth but not able to interfere with it for several years. A chance encounter while snooping around a crime scene leads her to the one person who can see her: Sam Winchester. Content/Warnings: no use of y/n [no warnings for this chapter] 8.4k words A/N: HI!! So I'm not sure how long this story will be. I'm trying not to get too in my own head about it but I'm really excited by this concept I came up with. This curse is hell!!! I haven't written a lot more of this yet, I wanna see what people think 👀 about chapter one. THIS STORY WILL INEVITABLY GET EXPLICIT AND SMUTTY AS PER MY USUAL but you have to wait LOL. Hope you enjoy!!

For two long, complete years, you roamed the Earth unnoticed. Not a single person on the planet can see you, no matter how you scream, no matter how you try to interfere. Time ceased to matter when the third year began. No one is looking for you, let alone in the right places and even if they were, they’d see right through you.

Being invisible isn’t great but it does allow you to satiate your morbid curiosity. You’ve been wandering along US interstates in the middle of the country for some months now, hitching rides in the backseats of cars where no one is already taking up the space. Along with those unknowing chauffeurs, you hop around through towns you’ve never even heard of before.

Slipping around people as they interact with the world has become a talent of yours by this point. Despite being cut off from humans, you are almost parasitic, following around some unsuspecting fool(s) for however long before moving on, those fools none-the-wiser. You’ve got no destination and absolutely no timeline. So you stop in on crime scenes. You’re incapable of disturbing any evidence which makes it not ethically-gray in your opinion. That combined with your horrible boredom makes you feel no guilt about this activity. Wryly, you’ve often thought to yourself that this is what happens when a person can only really watch TV that someone else picks for them.

Pure coincidence leads Sam to you. His agitated older brother is hounding for some kind of hunt to distract from his internal emotional turmoil. So Sam trails along after. He’s sick, you can tell that the instant you notice him— tall and baggy-eyed, but long hair still luxurious even under the fluorescent light. You note to yourself that it kind of looks like a helmet. You observe the two of them as they duck under the “caution” tape and then file their presence away in the “unimportant” category of your crime scene observations. It’s times like these where you idly imagine the amazing procedural show you could make based off your situation.

Dean’s all-business immediately, walking over to a uniformed officer to ask who’s in charge. As Sam shuffles after, his eyes casually take in the scene and then stutter over your visage. Sam can’t help the impressively-confused frown on his face. Blissfully unaware of Sam’s bewilderment, Dean stalks off to talk to the detective across the room. He doesn’t notice Sam staring at an empty spot right behind the CSI squatting low to the floor.

It’s clear that you don’t belong there, at least visually. You’re leaning over the CSI’s shoulder with some kind of hard candy in your mouth as he puts down evidence markers. You’re not dressed for a crime scene (you’ve got no gloves or protective gear of any kind on) and you’re too calm to be a witness. It takes a second to be sure but then Sam recognizes that no one else seems to notice you. He only lets the disorientation of your presence stop him up for a minute— the Trials were kicking his ass, who’s to say he’s not hallucinating again, just like after the Cage.

Sam trails after his brother and the detective as she fills them in on the case. He’s half listening to her but he’s furtively watching you wander around the room. It’s not like he can really ignore the sound of the candy clacking loudly against your teeth. The detective brings up surveillance video on a tablet. Sam’s trying to focus on the footage when shadows shift in his periphery. He looks up from the tablet to his left and finds you inches from him. You’ve drawn closer to look at the video too. You’re so close to him that he’s sure he ought to feel you somehow— like a disturbance of air, or some kind of temperature —but there’s nothing.

The detective and Dean are exchanging some words. You lift your gaze up curiously to continue following along with the conversation. In the corner of your eye you see Sam’s face tilted towards you. Swallowing thickly, you prepare to be let down. Sometimes, beings sensitive enough have almost perceived you nearby, but never fully or enough for you to properly communicate. A residual ember of hope in your belly that someday your circumstances might change flares hotter in times like this. You shouldn’t get your hopes up. People are just going to keep letting you down.

You don’t have to perform for any bystanders anymore but you still try to seem unbothered, like when you felt someone staring at you in public before they couldn’t. It’s about as cool as you can be in one of those situations where you think the person’s waving at you but they’re addressing someone behind you. You have the urge to look at your left first to try and see if you can guess what’s stolen his attention— it’s a little game you’ve had to create when there’s not much else to do. However, that small, single burning coal of hope still has sway on you. And… part of you thinks: I’m not sure I’m ready to be looked at again. Let alone by someone so stunning.

But you’re no quitter. So your chin lifts hesitantly.

His eyes are boring straight into yours. They’re forest-y colored, almost like a sky through a canopy of trees. In that moment they’re the single most amazing thing you’ve ever seen— because they clearly see you back.

Your voice is scratchy and barely a murmur. “You… you can see me?”

His sharp features, though blotchy from a low but steady fever and shadowed by the clear lack of restful sleep, are still arresting. They twitch in confusion, then he turns to look up at the detective. Neither she or Dean seem to sense you. You’re half convinced that he’s going to have lost you by the time he turns back. Nope. His eyes find yours again like he knew exactly where to look.

Your pulse has never raced so fast in your life. Your hand smacks into your chest, like putting some pressure on it might slow your heartbeat down. He flinches a little from the suddenness of your movement. Your eyes spring wide.

“You can, can’t you?” You’re shaking, you can feel it in your free hand. “You can see me!”

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pairing: sam winchester x gn!reader

genre: yearning, slight angst to fluff, reader high as hell

notes: sorry for such a shit posting schedule lmao I got married so I’ve been BUSY !! I wrote this at 4am so I hope it’s okay I am too lazy to proof read :’)

The motel room was quiet and sam hated quiet. His phone sat on the table in front of him, screen lit with your last text.

checking out the warehouse now should be easy !! don’t worry !! ;P

Sent six hours ago.

Six.

Hours.

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face hard enough to hurt. The stubble along his jaw rasped against his palm, exhaustion sitting heavy behind his eyes. Outside rain tapped steadily against the motel window the neon vacancy sign buzzing faintly red through the curtains.

Dean was pretending not to watch him from the other bed. “You wanna wear a hole in the floor too?” Dean finally asked. Sam stopped pacing only long enough to glare at him before resuming immediately. “They said they’d call.”

“Yeah, well” Dean shrugged “You know how hunters are”

Hunters disappear.

Hunters bleed out alone.

Hunters get cocky.

Hunters die.

Sam’s chest tightened violently because you weren’t just another hunter, that was the problem maybe it had always been the problem.

You had slipped into their lives too easily, sarcastic comments over diner coffee, patching each other up after hunts and falling asleep in the backseat of the Impala during long drives. Somewhere between all of that Sam had looked up one day and realised his entire world tilted toward you.

The way sun looked toward morning.

Pathetic? maybe, dangerous? most definitely

He remembered the argument from earlier with painful clarity. “I can handle one stupid ghost by myself Sam.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

The point was that every time you walked into danger, Sam felt like someone had wrapped a hand around his spine and squeezed, that he knew exactly what it felt like to lose people. The point was that he couldn’t survive losing you.

But he hadn’t said any of that because saying it out loud would crack something open between you both and Sam had spent years carefully holding that thing shut.

Instead he’d snapped “Fine. Go.”

And you had.

Now the silence felt like punishment.

Sam grabbed his jacket again.

Dean sighed. “Dude”

“I’m going”

“You’ve said that five times”

“And I mean it this time”

Dean looked at him for a long moment before tossing him the Impala keys. Sam caught them instantly. “Hospital called twenty minutes ago” Dean said casually “figured you weren’t listening enough to hear me the first time”

Sam froze eerything inside him went cold.

“What?”

“They found your emergency contact number in their wallet”

Your wallet.

Hospital.

Sam’s stomach dropped so hard it hurt.

“Why didn’t you-”

“Because”Dean interrupted, standing “you were already halfway to a panic attack and I wanted to make sure you could still legally drive”

Sam was already moving.

The motel door slammed open hard enough to rattle the frame.

Sam pushed through the automatic doors of the hospital so fast a nurse startled aside, his wet boots squeaking against polished floors. Rainwater dripped from his jacket sleeves as he scanned every hallway like he expected to find blood.

“Excuse me” he said breathlessly to the receptionist. “I’m looking for-” She gave sam a look over and named your room before he even finished. “Third floor. They’re okay honey”

Okay.

The word barely registered and Sam moved through the hospital like a storm.

Room numbers blurring together. His heartbeat thundered louder and louder the closer he got.

Please be okay

Please

Please

Room 312

Sam stopped outside the door chest heaving. For one horrible second he couldn’t move.

Because what if “okay” wasn’t really okay?

What if he’d been too late?

His hand shook slightly as he pushed the door open and then-

“Oh my god!”

You were alive, very alive apparently.

Sam blinked.

You were propped up in the hospital bed with a massive bandage wrapped around your shoulder, hair a mess, hospital gown crooked and giggling.

You looked up at him with glassy, unfocused eyes. Your entire face lit up. “There he is” you whispered dramatically, sam just stared the crushing terror inside him dissolved so fast it almost made him dizzy.

“You’re okay” he breathed. You gasped loudly like he’d just appeared in a dream sequence.

“The love of my life is here”

The nurse checking your IV snorted so hard she had to look away.

Sam went completely still.

“What?”

You pointed at him with deep concentration “him” you informed the nurse. “That one. Giant sad eyes, Pretty hair That’s my guy.”

Sam’s brain short circuited and the nurse smiled sympathetically “pain meds kicked in about an hour ago.”

“I’m not high” you said with immense dignity, you immediately missed the straw while trying to sip water. Sam moved automatically, catching the cup before it tipped. His hands were gentle despite how badly they trembled.

“You hunted a ghost alone” he said softly under his breath so the nurse didn’t hear, unable to stop staring at you.

“You’re tall.”

“That’s your response?”

“You’re very tall.”

Sam laughed once despite himself shaky and disbelieving, the sound made your expression soften instantly. “There’s that smile” you mumbled. “missed it”

Something warm and dangerous unfurled in Sam’s chest.

The nurse finished adjusting the IV before patting his arm sympathetically on the way out. “Try to keep them from pulling the monitor stickers off again”

“No promises” you whispered conspiratorially.

The door clicked shut behind her and silence settled over the room.

Rain tapped lightly against the window beside your bed while dim hospital lights cast everything gold and sleepy. Sam stepped closer cautiously, like you might disappear if he moved too fast.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

You frowned in intense concentration.

“Got thrown into a wall.”

“That obvious huh?”

“There was also” you continued, counting on your fingers “a table.”

Sam winced.

“And maybe another wall”

“Oh my god”

“But I won” you declared proudly.

“Yeah?” His voice came out rough.

“Mhm.”

You smiled lazily at him.

“Wanted to call you after.”

That hit him straight in the chest. Sam pulled the chair beside your bed closer and sat heavily into it, elbows resting on his knees. Up close he could see the bruising starting along your jaw, the exhaustion hidden beneath the medication haze.

You must’ve been terrified and alone, guilt twisted painfully in his stomach. “I’m sorry” he said quietly. Your eyes blinked open wider. “For what?”

“For the argument” he swallowed hard “I should’ve gone with you.”

“You were worried.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s kinda sweet.”

“No, it’s” Sam exhaled shakily. “It’s frustrating.”

Your hand drifted clumsily across the blanket until it bumped against his wrist. Sam immediately turned his hand over to hold yours the contact settled something frantic inside him, “You care about me” you murmured like it was obvious. Sam stared at your joined hands.

More than you know.

You squinted at him suddenly “why are you red?”

“I’m not red”

“You’re blushing”

“I’m really not.”

“You are” You looked delighted“Sam Winchester you are BLUSHING” Sam groaned softly, covering part of his face with his free hand. “You said I’m the love of your life”

“Because you are” The words landed effortlessly. Simple and matter of fact, like saying the sky was blue, Sam’s ears burned hotter “You don’t mean that,” he muttered weakly, you looked genuinely offended. “I absolutely do”

“The painkillers are talking.”

“No” Your grip tightened surprisingly gently around his hand “I think the painkillers just stopped me from being nervous”

Sam forgot how to breathe for a second the monitor beside the bed beeped steadily, Your thumb brushing slowly against his knuckles.

“You mean that” he said quietly.

You blinked at him.

“Sam.”

The way you said his name nearly undid him, Like it mattered like he mattered. “You came running in here looking like a kicked puppy” you whispered. “You think I don’t know?”

Sam laughed softly under his breath, embarrassed and helpless all at once.

“I was scared”

Your expression softened instantly.

“Oh.”

“You stopped answering your phone and I just…” He looked down, jaw tightening. “I couldn’t think straight.” The teasing melted out of your face completely. “There’s my sweet boy” you murmured affectionately. Sam made an incoherent noise sounding embarrassed, “You really are high.”

“Mhm.” You smiled lazily “and correct.”

Before Sam could answer, you shifted carefully in the bed and patted the space beside you “c’mere”

“I don’t think that’s hospital policy”

“Sam.”

The sleepy demand in your voice made him fold instantly. He stood carefully, easing himself onto the edge of the bed while trying not to jostle your injuries. The mattress dipped beneath his weight. You immediately leaned against him. Sam froze for half a second before wrapping an arm carefully around your shoulders.

Relief hit him again in another overwhelming wave you were alive and warm, your head settled against his chest while his chin rested lightly atop your hair. He could hear the faint sleepy hum you made, feel the slow rise and fall of your breathing.

Neither of you spoke for a while. The room glowed dim and peaceful around you.

Sam realised suddenly how close this had all come to going differently and his hold tightened unconsciously.

You noticed immediately. “Hey” you mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“I’m okay.”

Sam closed his eyes briefly.

“I know.”

“You smell nice”

A startled laugh escaped him. “That came out of nowhere”

“I’m serious.” You snuggled closer with alarming determination for someone attached to hospital equipment. “Very comforting ten outta ten.”

“You are never living this down”

“Worth it”

Sam looked down at you and your eyes were already drifting shut again, medication pulling you toward sleep. “You staying?” you asked quietly. The vulnerability in those two words nearly wrecked him. “Yeah” Sam said immediately. “Course I am” Your smile was small and sleepy and devastatingly fond.

“Knew it”

Within minutes your breathing evened out completely asleep and curled against him. Sam stayed perfectly still, one arm around your shoulders while rain whispered outside the hospital window.

For the first time all night, the fear finally loosened its grip on his chest. You were here. Safe and alive and apparently very, very in love with him Sam ducked his head slightly, unable to stop the helpless smile spreading across his face.

Then very gently, careful not to wake you, he pressed a kiss against the top of your head.

The library of the bunker was quiet, the only sound being the rustling of old pages as Sam poured over a stack of lore books. His hair, which he’d been letting grow out over the past year, fell in thick, dark tracks around his face, completely obscuring his eyes as he leaned forward.

You walked up behind his chair, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. He let out a soft, contented hum at your touch, leaning back just a bit into your space.

"You know," you murmured, reaching up to run your fingers through the long, soft strands at the nape of his neck, "I'm really starting to love how long your hair is getting."

"Yeah?" Sam asked, his voice low and a little tired from hours of reading. He tilted his head back to look up at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Dean keeps telling me I need a haircut."

"Don't listen to him," you smiled, gently gathering a thick handful of the long strands in your palm. You leaned down a bit closer, a playful spark in your eye. "I like having something I can pull on."

To emphasize your point, you gave a firm, deliberate tug backward.

You expected a laugh, or maybe a playful tease, but instead, a sharp, involuntary whimper escaped the back of Sam's throat. His entire frame went completely rigid under your hands, his breath hitching loudly in the quiet room.

For a second, nobody moved. Then, a dark, deep flush immediately crept up Sam's neck, rapidly spreading to the tips of his ears and flooding his cheeks. He hurriedly pulled away from your grip, burying his face in his hands as he stared down at the table, looking incredibly flustered.

"Sammy?" you asked softly, leaning around the chair to catch his eye. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, his voice suddenly sounding a lot breathless and entirely stripped of his usual composure. He refused to look up at you, his large shoulders hunching forward as if he could somehow shrink himself. "Just... caught me off guard."

Amused and completely captivated by his reaction, you gently reached down to pry one of his hands away from his face. "Did you like that, hm?"

Sam swallowed hard, his hazel eyes darting to yours for a split second before looking away again, the blush on his face deepening. He let out a tiny, embarrassed nod, a quiet admission that the giant hunter had a surprisingly soft, submissive streak when it came to you.

"Okay," you whispered fondly, stepping around the chair to pull his head against your hip, smoothing down the hair you had just messed up. "Good to know."

a/n: 2/4…. sub!sam supremacy 🫡

Pairing: Sam Winchester x (Fem)Best friend!reader

Summary: You and Sam had been inseparable ever since you were kids, but it all changed when you went to college. Just when you decide to come back home to your uncle Bobby, Sam walks back into your life.

Content/warnings: Fluff. Angst. Best friends to strangers.

Wordcount: 3.6k

Author's Note: I'm still not sure where I'm going with this, so if you have suggestions, feel free to comment!

It was just past midnight when you heard the rumble of a familiar engine approaching the house. You excitedly jumped off the couch and ran to the door, opening it just in time to see John Winchester pull out of the driver’s seat of his 1967 Chevy Impala. The brisk end-of-summer breeze tickled your face. “Hi, Mr. Winchester.”

This is gonna be a long one everyone, stay prepared.

Angst, angst and more angst, oh and fluff.

Word Count: Extremely long, that’s why there’s gonna be multiple chapters…

Not fully proofread so I do apologize 🙏🏻 I’m just lazy LOL.

the link to Chapter 2 is ready when you finish this part!

The week started off like any other. A weird phone call from Bobby. A trail of disappearances. Another small town with another problem nobody else could explain. Only this case was different, people weren’t dying. They were going missing. No bodies, nor blood, not even a single sign of struggle.

Nothing.

A woman had apparently vanished while making dinner for her husband. A guy’s truck had been found abandoned on the side of the road with the engine still running and the driver’s door left wide open. It was like people were just… stepping out of reality itself.

So, doing what we did best, we packed our bags and made our way to little old Black Harbor, Maine.

The town was exactly what you’d expect from a tiny coastal place buried in northern Maine. Endless pine trees, cold ocean air, thick fog that rolled through the streets at all hours of the day. Half the buildings looked older than Dean’s music taste, and the locals had this weird habit of going quiet whenever the disappearances were brought up.

But the thing was…Nothing had even happened once we got there.

No more missing people, no strange sightings, no weird deaths.

It was dead silent. Almost too silent.

After a few days of interviewing locals and finding absolutely nothing useful, Dean rented us a creepy cabin deep in the woods just outside town because apparently every motel in Black Harbor looked like it had a body count and not the fun kind.

Not that the cabin was much better. The floorboards creaked constantly, the lights flickered whenever the wind picked up, and the woods surrounding us were so thick and dark at night that it felt like something could be standing between the trees watching us without us ever noticing.

Still… for once, it was quiet.

Nothing was trying to kill us, nor did it seem like it would happen anytime soon. And honestly? It was nice. Even if we all knew hunts like this never stayed quiet forever.

I woke up first that morning, or maybe I never fully fell asleep in the first place. It was honestly hard to tell due to the fact that the bed I was on felt like a brick.

Either way, I had ended up curled into the little window nook in the living room with a blanket draped loosely over my legs, a cup of coffee warming my hands and a book sprawled open across my lap.

The cabin was still dark enough that the only real light came from the sunrise slowly bleeding through the trees.

The woods looked beautiful this early in the morning, fog drifted lazily between the pines while soft golden light filtered through the branches. Everything looked still. Untouched. Peaceful.

It had to be around five-thirty in the morning. Who even knew honestly.

The clock hanging on the wall near the fireplace had been broken since we got there, the hands frozen at 3:12 no matter how many times Dean smacked the top of it.

I took another slow sip of coffee, letting the warmth settle into me as I stared out the window quietly.

For once there wasn’t screaming, gunshots or the fear of losing Sam and Dean. Just silence.

“Why are you up so early…” Sam’s sleepy voice drifted across the living room, quiet and rough from sleep.

I turned slightly in the window nook, finding him slowly walking into the room while rubbing at his eyes with his fingers. His hair was completely messy from turning in his sleep, his gray shirt wrinkled, and he looked barely awake as he wandered toward me.

A small smile pulled at my lips the moment I properly saw him.

“There’s the giant.” Sam huffed out a tired laugh at that as he moved closer.

“Seriously,” he muttered, blinking sleepily. “It’s like…five in the morning.”

“Maybe.”

“The broken clock is not helping your argument.”

I grinned slightly before looking back out the window.

“Just… taking in the quietness. For once we have a moment to relax and enjoy ourselves. Even if we can’t enjoy it forever. We know how these hunts go. Whatever is out there normally starts back up.”

Sam’s expression softened a little at that. He lowered himself into the chair beside the window with a quiet creak, stretching his legs out as he glanced toward the woods outside with me.

For a moment neither of us spoke. Yet the silence wasn’t awkward, it never really was with Sam. He let out a soft chuckle after a moment, leaning his head back against the chair.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Monsters really suck at respecting personal time.”

I laughed into my coffee cup.

“Seriously.” A comfortable silence settled over us again while the sunrise slowly painted gold across the forest outside.

“Plus,” I added, “I love watching the sunrise.”

Sam looked over at me, his sleepy expression softening almost instantly.

“You have always been a sucker for sunrises and sunsets,” Sam says with a gentle tone. “Glad you’re still able to enjoy them after everything.”

I glanced over at him with a raised brow.

“You mean, after every monster and demon we’ve faced?”

“Yeah.”

I looked back out toward the woods again, watching the fog drift slowly through the trees.

“It’s my only little moment of joy,” I admitted quietly. “Where things are just, still. When things are quiet and peaceful. Nothing but me and the sun.” The words hung softly between us.

“That’s adorable, you know that?”

I immediately groaned, rolling my eyes.

“Oh shush you. It’s not supposed to be adorable, it’s just something I enjoy seeing everyday. Because it means we survived. We made it through the night and we got to live another day.”

When I finally looked back into the room, Sam’s eyes were already locked onto me. The way he looked at me felt like nothing else around us mattered in that moment.

The look alone made my heart skip painfully against my ribs. His gaze was warm, soft, almost overwhelming.

“Can you two shut up? Please. It’s too early for this wholesome crap.” Dean’s voice shouted from upstairs, quickly ruining the moment.

Sam snorted quietly while I burst into laughter, nearly spilling my coffee.

“Why don’t you get your sleepy ass down here instead, Dean!” I shouted back.

All I got in response was a loud groan from upstairs followed by the sound of him aggressively throwing himself around on the mattress.

I shook my head with a grin, moving the book off my lap and placing it down before finally sliding my legs over the edge of the window nook and standing up. The blanket slipped from my legs onto the floor as I stretched slightly, still holding my mug.

I turned toward Sam, who was still watching me with that same sleepy softness lingering in his expression.

“You want a cup of coffee? I just made it so it’s nice and fresh. Plus it’s real ground coffee, not the instant kind.”

Sam placed a hand dramatically over his chest.

“Wow. The disrespect toward instant coffee.”

“Sam, instant coffee tastes like dirt.”

“Actually, it builds character.”

“Ha! Good one, more like it builds stomach ulcers.”

That earned another laugh out of him as he stood from the chair.

“Alright fine, you got me there. I’d love a cup of coffee.”

I smiled softly before turning toward the kitchen, hearing Sam’s footsteps quietly follow behind me while the morning sunlight slowly filled the cabin around us. I placed my mug down next to the sink as I reached up and grabbed a mug from the cupboard, the familiar ceramic weight settling comfortably in my hand before I set it down on the counter with a soft clink.

The kitchen was still dim in that early-morning way, only thin strips of sunlight slipping through the windows. The air smelled faintly of pine from the open window in the other room, mixed with the rich bitterness of freshly brewed coffee.

I reached for the pot without thinking twice.

It was one of those movements I didn’t even have to look at anymore, like muscle memory. The kind you build after too many hunts, too many sleepless nights, too many mornings that looked exactly like this one but in completely different places.

The coffee poured steadily into the mug, dark and steaming, the sound filling the quiet space between us.

I reached for the sugar packets next, tearing them open one after another with practiced ease. Three. Always three. Then the creamer, pouring it in until the dark coffee lightened into that familiar shade I knew he preferred.

Everything moved in a smooth rhythm, simple, routine, grounding. Only when I stirred it did I finally glance up. Sam was still standing there, completely still.

He was just there, leaning lightly against the counter edge like he’d forgotten he was supposed to be doing anything else. His eyes stayed fixed on me like I was doing something far more complicated than making him a drink.

All I could do was blink at him.

“What?” I asked, tilting my head slightly. “Oh! Did I mess up? I swear you always take three sugars and creamer.”

He shook his head quickly, like he’d been caught off guard.

“No, no. You got it right,” he said, almost too quickly, but there was something softer under his voice now. “I’m just… a little shocked you remember.”

The way he said it made something in my chest tighten, just slightly. Like it mattered more than it should have. I couldn’t help but tilt my head at his words, sliding his mug toward him across the counter.

“Sammy,” I said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “we’ve known each other for years. I think it’s pretty normal to remember something that simple.”

His fingers wrapped around the mug slowly, but he didn’t lift it right away. Instead, his eyes stayed on me. Like he was trying to memorize something he thought he might lose later.

“You’d be surprised,” he said softly after a second.

I opened my mouth to respond, to tease him, to brush it off, to keep things light like always, but something about the way he was looking at me made the words stall in my throat.

I took a swift breath through my nose and turned my body back toward the counter before I could overthink it, I reached for my cup of coffee. The ceramic was becoming less warm with each second.

“You should drink your coffee, before it gets cold like mine,” I joked lightly as I took a sip from my mug, my eyes looking at the decorations on the wall underneath the cabinets. Finally I heard the soft scrape of his mug as Sam finally lifted it.

He hummed quietly after taking a sip.

“Yeah,” he said, voice still rough with tiredness, “you’re so right about instant coffee. This ground coffee is so much better…”

I smiled despite myself and embarrassingly enough, I could physically feel the tension in my shoulders loosen at his words. I slowly turned back to face him properly now that I’d managed to collect myself again.

Morning light began to spill softly through the kitchen windows behind us, painting warm gold across the wood floors. Outside, the fog still hung thick between the trees, only letting a little bit of light shine through, turning the world beyond the cabin into blurred shapes and muted colors.

“I’m glad you agree,” I said with a grin. “I was worried you’d think it tasted nasty because you’re so used to the instant stuff.”

Sam looked up at me, offended.

“Hey. I don’t like instant coffee.”

“You drink it willingly.”

“That’s because we spend half our lives in terrible motels.”

“Fair point.”

A quiet laugh escaped him as he leaned one shoulder against the counter beside him, mug still cradled between both hands.

God, he looked comfortable like this, sleepy, warm, relaxed in a way he rarely got to be.

There were faint shadows beneath his eyes from too many late nights researching, and his hair was still sticking up in every direction from sleep, but somehow that only made him look softer. More real.

For a moment neither of us said anything. The silence settled naturally between us, filled only by the distant sound of wind brushing through the trees outside and the faint creak of the cabin walls shifting.

I took another sip of coffee, leaning back lightly against the counter behind me.

“You know,” I said after a moment, “this is probably the longest we’ve gone on a hunt without something trying to kill us.”

Sam snorted softly into his mug.

“Don’t jinx it.”

“I’m serious. It’s weird.”

“It is weird,” he admitted quietly, glancing toward the fog outside the window. “Honestly, I don’t think I trust it.”

“Me neither.”

The words came easier than they should have. Because despite how peaceful this morning felt, despite the warmth of the cabin, the quiet and the coffee. Something about Black Harbor had felt off from the second we arrived. Like the town was holding its breath.

Sam’s eyes drifted back toward me again.

“You sleep okay at least?” he asked.

There it was again, that gentle attentiveness he always had with me. Small things. Casual questions. Tiny check-ins that shouldn’t matter as much as they did.

“Mostly,” I answered honestly. “The wind woke me up a couple times. Ugh and don’t even get me started on how hard my bed was.”

He nodded slightly like he was storing that information away somewhere in the back of his mind.

“You could’ve woken me up.” The words were simple, so natural coming from his mouth.

But they still made warmth spread quietly through my chest. I looked down into my mug to hide the smile threatening to form.

“You need sleep too, Sam.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged lightly. “Still.”

Before I could respond, a loud crash suddenly echoed from upstairs followed by Dean’s extremely irritated voice.

“Shit!” Dean’s voice rang through the cabin, loud, irritated, and very clearly half asleep.

I jumped slightly at the noise before the realization hit me all at once. A grin spread across my face almost instantly.

“Dean?” I yelled up toward the ceiling, already fighting laughter. “You alright up there? You fall out of bed?”

There was a brief moment of silence, then the sound of aggressive shuffling.

“Shut up!” Dean shouted back. “So what if I did!”

That response alone completely broke me. A snort escaped straight into my mug while beside me Sam made a choking noise halfway through taking a massive sip of coffee.

He doubled over without a second thought, coughing harshly as he nearly spit the coffee back into the cup.

“Oh my Lord—” I laughed, setting my mug down quickly before I accidentally spilled it everywhere. “You okay?”

Sam waved me off with one hand while coughing into the other, his shoulders shaking from both laughter and the fact he’d inhaled coffee wrong.

“Yeah! yeah,” he managed out hoarsely. “I’m good.”

I shook my head, trying and failing to stop laughing.

“Not only does he have a snoring problem,” I said between breaths, “he also has a rolling off the bed problem.” From upstairs came immediate offended yelling.

“I DO NOT SNORE!”

Sam laughed harder at that, leaning heavily against the counter for support while rubbing at his eyes.

“You absolutely snore,” he called back.

“I breathe aggressively!”

“That’s somehow worse!” I shouted.

Dean groaned dramatically loud enough for both of us to hear before heavy footsteps stomped across the floor overhead.

A few seconds later he finally appeared at the top of the stairs looking like he had personally lost a fight with the blanket.

His hair stuck up in every possible direction, his shirt was twisted halfway around his body, and there was a faint red mark on one side of his face from sleeping wrong.

The second he saw us both laughing, his eyes narrowed.

“Oh, real funny,” he muttered as he trudged down the stairs. “Glad my physical suffering is entertaining to you two.”

“It’s a little entertaining,” I admitted.

“Traitors. Both of you.”

Dean wandered into the kitchen with the exhausted energy of a man who had not mentally agreed to be awake yet. He instantly reached for the coffee pot before pausing suspiciously.

“…Wait a second.” His eyes narrowed at the coffee inside.

“This isn’t instant.”

I folded my arms proudly. “That’s because I made actual coffee.”

Dean stared down into the pot like he’d just discovered hidden treasure.

“Well damn,” he muttered. “Look at us moving up in the world.”

“Sam already admitted I was right that this is better than instant coffee.”

Dean gasped dramatically. “No.”

Sam sighed into his mug. “It’s just better coffee, Dean.”

“You said that out loud?” Dean pressed a hand to his chest. “After everything instant coffee has done for us?”

“It tastes like cancer, Dean.” I replied.

“It tastes like it’s helped us get through tough times.”

“It tastes like literal death.”

Dean pointed at me accusingly while finally pouring himself a mug.

“You’re both coffee snobs.”

Sam glanced toward me with the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Dean took one sip of the fresh coffee. Then another. His expression shifted.

“…Okay this is actually really good.”

I smirked triumphantly while Sam quietly laughed beside me.

“Wow,” I said. “Look at that. Growth.”

“Don’t get used to this,” Dean grumbled, though he was already taking another drink.

The three of us settled into the kitchen naturally after that.

Dean leaned against the counter next to Sam, still waking up properly while Sam stood next to me with his mug cradled between both hands, warmth from the morning sunlight spilling through the windows around us.

The peacefulness of it all felt strange after years of chaos. And maybe that was why it felt so easy to forget, even for a little while, that something was waiting for us out there in Black Harbor.

As we finished our coffee, the quiet warmth that had settled over the cabin slowly started to fade beneath the reality of why we were actually here.

The mugs sat empty on the counter now, I stretched my arms over my head with a long sigh, my muscles popping slightly from how I curled awkwardly in the window nook earlier.

“Well,” I muttered reluctantly, “we should probably get ready for the day and see if we can get anything weird to happen.” I said it half jokingly, but the second the words left my mouth Dean looked personally offended.

“Please, no,” he groaned dramatically, leaning against the counter with his coffee mug cradled in both hands. “Nothing weird has happened since we got here. I do not wanna go poking the bear and get whatever’s out there pissed off.”

I snorted softly as I rinsed my mug out in the sink.

“Dean, we literally hunt monsters for a living.”

“Exactly,” he scoffed. “Which means I know how bad it gets when we accidentally annoy something ancient and murdery.”

Sam laughed quietly under his breath beside me before responding.

“I agree with her, Dean,” he said calmly. “The whole reason we’re here is to explain these disappearances.”

Dean let out a rough exhale through his nose, already looking exhausted by the idea.

“I hate you two,” he muttered. “Seriously. One peaceful week in a creepy cabin and suddenly you’re both itching to die.”

I grinned as I pushed myself away from the counter.

“Aw, don’t be dramatic.”

“You literally just suggested we go summon trouble.”

“Technically I suggested we investigate trouble.”

“That is somehow worse.”

Sam shook his head with a small smile tugging at his mouth while Dean continued muttering complaints under his breath about “jinxing hunts” and “tempting fate.”

The normalcy of it all made warmth settle quietly in my chest. This. This right here was the best part of hunting.

Not the monsters, the victories. The moments in between. The teasing and the bickering. The mornings where nobody was bleeding or dying.

I turned toward the stairs suddenly as another thought hit me.

“Oh, I call dibs on the bathroom first!” The second the words left my mouth, I bolted.

“Wait!” Dean shouted instantly. “That’s not fair!”

I burst into laughter as I sprinted toward the staircase, nearly slipping on the old wooden floorboards while Dean lunged after me from the kitchen.

“Oh come on!” Sam yelled behind us, his laughter echoing through the cabin as he followed after Dean.

The staircase groaned loudly beneath all three of us as we thundered upstairs like actual children.

Dean nearly caught the back of my hoodie at one point, fingertips brushing the fabric before I jerked away with a victorious laugh.

“Nope!”

“You’re evil!” he accused.

“You’re slow!”

“I am wearing socks on wooden stairs!”

“That sounds like a personal problem!”

Behind us, Sam was laughing hard enough now that I could hear it clearly over the chaos. It was warm and rough and completely unguarded in a way that always made my heart jump unexpectedly.

I finally reached the bathroom first, grabbing the doorknob triumphantly.

At the exact same moment, Dean reached for my arm while Sam caught Dean around the waist from behind, trying to physically stop him from tackling me into the hallway.

“Oh no you don’t,” Sam laughed.

“Traitor!” Dean barked back while trying to pry Sam’s arm off him.

Using the distraction to my advantage, I slipped into the bathroom and immediately slammed the door shut behind me before twisting the lock with a loud click. The two of them collided into the door a second later.

“Ha!” I shouted victoriously through the wood. “I win!”

“Oh that is SUCH crap!” Dean yelled from the hallway. I could practically hear the glare in his voice.

“You cheated!”

“There were no rules!”

“You ran before we agreed on anything!”

“That sounds like a skill issue!”

Dean groaned loudly while something thudded against the wall outside. Meanwhile Sam was still laughing. Not just chuckling either. Actually laughing.

The kind that came from deep in his chest and made it impossible not to smile hearing it.

“Wow,” Sam managed between laughs. “Dean, you really lost to someone half your size.”

“Sam Winchester if you don’t shut your giant ass up right now—”

I leaned against the sink inside the bathroom, grinning to myself as their arguing continued outside the door.

And for just a second, standing there listening to them bicker through the hallway while morning light poured through the tiny bathroom window, it was dangerously easy to forget that somewhere beyond the cabin walls, something had already started watching us.

By the time all three of us were finally dressed and ready, the peaceful feeling from earlier that morning had shifted into something sharper.

Not dangerous exactly, just tense. Like the air itself had become too still.

I stood near the front door tugging the sleeves of my jacket down over my hands while Dean shoved random supplies into a duffel bag with absolutely no organization whatsoever.

Research books, EMF reader, silver knife, flashlights. At one point he somehow managed to throw beef jerky into the bag too.

“Dean,” I said slowly, watching him zip the duffel shut, “why is there food in the hunting bag?”

“In case I get hungry.”

“You packed like six packs of beef jerky.”

“Priorities.”

Sam snorted softly from where he stood near the couch pulling on his boots. The cabin looked different now in full daylight.

Less cozy.

The shadows in the corners weren’t softened by the sunrise anymore, and the woods outside the windows looked darker somehow despite the sun being higher now. Fog still drifted between the trees in slow waves, stubbornly refusing to burn off completely.

That alone was weird. It should’ve disappeared hours ago.

“You guys notice the fog’s still here?” I asked quietly. Dean glanced toward the window briefly before shrugging.

“It’s Maine. Isn’t this place basically eighty percent fog?”

“Not this thick,” Sam answered before I could. His tone had shifted slightly.

He stepped closer to the window, eyes narrowing toward the woods outside. The faint humor from earlier had faded from his expression, replaced with the alertness he always got on hunts.

The same alertness I could feel settling into myself too. The cabin suddenly creaked softly around us.

“Okay,” Dean said, clapping his hands together once. “I officially hate the vibe in here now.”

“That’s because you hate every vibe,” I replied.

“I especially hate haunted forest vibes.”

Sam grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair near the fireplace before glancing toward us.

“We should head into town first,” he said. “Talk to the sheriff again. Maybe check the spots where the people disappeared.”

Dean sighed heavily like the suggestion physically wounded him.

“Right. Work. Forgot about that.”

“You literally packed the hunting bag.”

“I pack emotionally. Not mentally.”

I laughed quietly as I reached for my own bag near the door.

The second my fingers wrapped around the strap, something cold twisted low in my stomach. It wasn’t painful but it was almost like a warning. A sudden sharp unease that hit so quickly it almost stole my breath for half a second.

My eyes lifted automatically toward the front windows. The woods outside stood completely still, there was no wind, not even birds chirping. Just fog moving silently between endless dark trees.

“You okay?” Sam’s voice cut gently through my thoughts.

I looked over at him. He was already watching me carefully, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

I forced a small shrug. “Yeah. Just a weird feeling again.”

“Nope. Don’t say that casually.” Dean said firmly.

“I’m serious.”

Sam moved a little closer now, concern settling more clearly across his face.

“What kind of weird feeling?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “Like…” I glanced back toward the woods. “Like we’re being watched.”

Dean’s expression shifted, all traces of teasing disappearing. Because instincts like that were rarely wrong.

Especially our instincts.

Sam’s jaw clenched slightly before he reached automatically for the gun tucked behind his back.

“Fantastic. Love that for us.”

The cabin suddenly creaked, not like the kind of creaks we’ve heard of the cabin settling. It was longer and more eerie. Almost like something had leaned against the outside wall.

All three of us froze instantly. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Three soft taps against the window beside the door. My heart jumped hard enough to hurt.

Dean grabbed the shotgun leaning against the wall while Sam stepped in front of me automatically without even seeming to realize he’d done it.

The three of us stared toward the window. Nothing stood there. Just fog pressed thick against the glass.

Dean swallowed roughly. “Tell me a tree branch hit the window.”

“There aren’t any trees close enough,” Sam answered quietly.

Another tap echoed softly against the glass. Then silence again.

The cabin suddenly felt far too small, I could hear my own heartbeat now. Dean slowly moved toward the door first, shotgun raised slightly.

“This,” he muttered under his breath, “is exactly why I said not to poke the creepy supernatural bear.”

Sam glanced back at me briefly before opening the door. Cold air rushed into the cabin instantly.

The fog outside rolled thick across the porch, dense enough now that visibility barely stretched past the Impala parked nearby.

And for just a second, standing at the edge of the woods beyond the gravel driveway. I saw a figure. It was tall and unmoving, it just started at me. At us, like it was hunting prey. Before I could say anything to them, the moment I blinked it vanished into the fog.

The twisting feeling in my stomach screamed at me, every alarm in my head practically begging me not to follow. Every instinct I had as a hunter was telling me something about this was wrong.

This wasn’t just a normal wrong. Not “probably a ghost” wrong, something deeper than that, something that felt old.

But this was our job. And if something really was out there watching us from those woods, we couldn’t just stand on the porch pretending we didn’t see it.

“Sam, Dean,” I said quickly, my voice quieter now as I kept my eyes locked on the tree line. “I saw it. Did you guys see it?”

For a second, neither of them answered. The fog drifted slowly across the gravel driveway, thick enough now that it almost looked alive as it curled around the tires of the Impala. Then Dean lowered the shotgun slightly with a grim expression.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I saw something.”

Sam stayed completely still beside me, his eyes fixed on the woods ahead with an intensity that made the unease in my stomach worse.

“It was too tall,” he said quietly. A cold chill slid down my spine.

Because that was exactly what I’d noticed too. The shape had been wrong somehow. Too thin. Too tall.

And the way it stood there, completely motionless, hadn’t felt human at all.

Dean stepped off the porch first, boots crunching softly against the gravel.

“Alright,” he muttered, tightening his grip on the shotgun. “I officially hate this hunt now.”

Sam followed carefully beside him while I came down the porch steps last, pulling my jacket tighter around myself as cold air swept through the trees.

Dean glanced toward us both. “Everybody stay close.”

“Since when are you the cautious one?” I whispered.

“Since Slenderman’s uglier cousin started stalking our cabin.”

Despite myself, I almost smiled. Almost. But the second my eyes drifted back toward the woods, the feeling vanished again.

Something was wrong out there. I could feel it.

Sam moved closer to my side naturally as we approached the edge of the tree line, close enough that his shoulder brushed mine briefly.

It was just a habit at this point, to keep each other close so it was easier to protect one another. The fog thickened once we stepped beneath the trees. The temperature dropped too. A sharp cold wrapped around my skin fast enough to make me shiver.

Dean noticed instantly.

“Okay, that’s unnatural.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed quietly.

The woods around us stretched endlessly in every direction, dark pine trees disappearing into pale gray fog. Every branch overhead looked skeletal in the weak morning light filtering through.

I glanced behind us briefly, the cabin was already barely visible.

“That’s impossible,” I muttered.

Dean turned slightly. “What?”

“We haven’t walked that far.”

But the cabin looked distant now. Like we’d been walking through the woods for much longer than a minute. Sam’s expression darkened.

“Stay alert.”

We didn’t need telling twice.

The three of us fell into step again, but the atmosphere had changed in a way that was hard to explain out loud. It wasn’t just that the forest was quiet now, it was that it felt like it was actively holding that quiet in place. Even our footsteps seemed muted, swallowed by the damp earth and thick air around us.

The deeper we walked, the more the fog closed in. It didn’t drift naturally anymore. It pooled between the trees in heavy, unmoving sheets, breaking sightlines into short, unreliable fragments. One moment I could see Dean ahead of us, his shoulders tense beneath his jacket, and the next he would blur into gray until he was just a shape again.

I swallowed, adjusting my grip on my bag. Something about the woods felt… wrong in a way my brain kept trying to correct and failing.

Like I was looking at a place that almost matched reality, but not quite enough for my instincts to stop screaming.

“This is ridiculous,” Dean muttered under his breath, sweeping his gaze across the trees. “We’ve been walking in a straight line for, what, ten minutes? Where the hell is the road supposed to be?”

“It should’ve shown up by now,” Sam said quietly.

His voice wasn’t raised. It didn’t need to be. There was already something sharper in it, something focused. I could tell he was tracking the same inconsistencies I was, even if he wasn’t saying them all out loud yet.

I nodded slightly. “And the cabin should still be behind us. We didn’t go far enough for it to disappear like that.”

Dean let out a humorless breath. “Yeah, well, welcome to Creepy Fog Land.” Normally I would’ve responded. I would’ve matched his sarcasm, maybe even rolled my eyes. But I couldn’t quite focus on his words properly.

Because something was starting to shift at the edges of my vision. At first, I thought it was just the fog thickening again. The air between the trees was so dense now it almost looked like it was moving wrong, folding in on itself in slow, lazy waves.

Then I blinked. And for a fraction of a second, the forest wasn’t the forest anymore. The trees were gone.

Not all of them, not completely, but enough that my stomach dropped instantly. In their place was something like… an empty stretch of road. Dim streetlights flickered faintly through the haze, their glow weak and yellow, reflecting off wet pavement that shouldn’t have been there at all.

A town. Or what looked like one.

My breath caught sharply before I even realized I had stopped walking.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice snapped me back. Trees. Fog. Pine needles underfoot.

My heart hammered hard in my chest as I stumbled half a step forward just to make sure I was still moving. It was gone. Like it had never been there at all.

“You okay?” Sam asked again, but this time there was more urgency in it. He had turned fully toward me now, his brows drawn together, eyes scanning my face like he was trying to figure out what had just happened before I even said it.

I forced a breath in through my nose.

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Yeah, I just… I think I saw something.”

Dean stopped a few feet ahead and looked back at us without hesitation. “Saw what?”

I paused for a moment, I didn’t know how to explain it in a way that made sense.

“Like… a town,” I said slowly. “But it wasn’t here. It just flashed in and out.” Dean stared at me like I’d just volunteered myself for a psychiatric evaluation.

“Okay,” he said carefully, “that is officially the creepiest thing you’ve said today.”

“I’m not kidding, Dean.”

“I didn’t say you were,” he replied, but his tone suggested he was definitely thinking about it.

Sam stepped closer to me without even thinking. It was instinctive. Like the moment he saw something was wrong, his first reaction was always to close the distance between us.

“Was it like a hallucination?” he asked quietly.

I shook my head once. “It didn’t feel like one. It felt… real. For a second.”

His expression shifted slightly from my words, it was now filled with confusion and concern. Like he believed me, but didn’t like what that meant.

“That’s not good,” he said under his breath.

Dean exhaled sharply. “Nothing about any of this is good.”

We started walking again, slower now, more cautious. Sam stayed closer to me than before, not in an obvious protective way, but in a quiet constant proximity that made it harder for me to lose focus again. Every few steps, I caught him glancing sideways at me, checking without saying anything.

But the forest didn’t get better. If anything, it got worse.

The fog was persistent, curling lower between the trees until it fully engulfed our legs. The sound of our movement felt further away now, like even that was being pulled out of sync with us. Dean slowed again, scanning ahead.

“I swear we just went in a loop,” he muttered.

“We didn’t,” Sam said, but there was less certainty in it now. I tried to focus on their voices, but the edges of reality kept threatening to slip again. For a split second, I heard something else under them.

Not words. Just… distant noise.

Like a crowded place, faint footsteps on pavement. A car passing somewhere far away.

My head snapped slightly toward the sound before I caught myself. It wasn’t there. But my pulse had already spiked.

Sam noticed quickly, his hand brushed lightly against my arm again, not grabbing, just grounding, subtle enough that Dean wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But his eyes stayed on me longer this time.

“You’re seeing it again,” he said quietly.

“I think so.”

That was enough for him.

I could see it in the shift of his expression. The way his focus sharpened completely now, the way his concern deepened into something more serious than before.

“Okay,” he said under his breath, mostly to himself. “We need to slow down. Pay attention to what’s happening to you specifically.”

Dean frowned. “What does that mean?”

Sam didn’t look away from me when he answered.

“It means whatever this is,” he said carefully, “it’s not affecting us all the same way.”

That landed heavier than it should have. Because he was right. I could feel it now, creeping in and out at the edges of my perception, like reality was trying to decide whether or not to stay consistent around me.

Another flicker hit, it wasn’t visual this time. Only a sound. For half a second, I heard someone say my name. Softly, like it was right behind me.

I turned instantly. Nothing. Only fog and trees.

But Sam had already moved without hesitation, stepping into my space, just enough that I could feel his presence at my side like an anchor.

“Hey,” he said quietly, lower than before. “Look at me.” His expression had softened, but the worry was still there underneath it, controlled but real.

“You’re here,” he said. “You’re with us. Okay?”

It was simple. But it helped more than I expected it to. I nodded once, breathing a little more evenly again.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I’m here.”

Dean glanced between us both, his grip tightening slightly on the shotgun.

“Cool,” he muttered. “So the woods are messing with perception, and only one of us is actively losing reality. Awesome. Love that for us.”

Sam didn’t respond to that. He just stayed close. And for the first time since we stepped into these woods, I realized something unsettling.

It wasn’t just that the forest felt wrong. It was whatever was here…seemed to be paying attention to me more than them.

My eyes slowly drifted back toward the forest again, like something deep within the trees was silently pulling at me. The second my gaze landed between the thick walls of fog and dark pines, my heart began to race harder against my ribs.

Another flash, a horrible shift. The woods twisted for half a second into something else entirely.

It still looked like the forest around us, but wrong in every possible way. Darker. Emptier. The fog there wasn’t gray, it was almost black, thick enough to swallow the trees whole. Everything looked abandoned, lifeless, like the world itself had been hollowed out and left to rot in silence.

And somehow the loneliness of it hit me harder than the fear.

It felt endless and cold. Like a place no one would ever find me again.

My breathing turned shaky.

“Hey, look at me.” Sam’s voice cut through the panic instantly. He moved in front of me so fast I barely processed it, his large hands settling firmly onto my shoulders as he bent slightly to keep himself directly in my line of sight.

“What are you seeing?” he asked quickly, but his voice had already changed. The calmness he’d been trying to hold onto was cracking apart around the edges.

“The forest…” I whispered weakly. “But it’s not the forest. Not the one we’re in.” The words caught in my throat as another flicker of that horrible place forced itself into my vision.

“It’s darker,” I breathed. “So much darker. It’s lonely.” My voice trembled harder now, panic beginning to sink fully into my chest. “Sam, I don’t want to be alone.”

The second those words left my mouth, Sam’s entire expression broke. Fear flashed across his face so openly it almost startled me.

Not fear of the woods, not fear of the hunt. Fear for me.

“Sammy, you gotta calm her down,” Dean said softly from nearby, though even he sounded uneasy now. His shotgun remained raised, his eyes darting nervously through the trees surrounding us like he was expecting something to come tearing out of the fog at any second.

Without hesitation, Sam moved his hands from my shoulders to my face, cupping my cheeks carefully but firmly enough to keep me grounded there with him. His thumbs brushed lightly against my skin, his breathing uneven now.

“Hey,” he said quickly, his voice low and shaky. “Listen to me. I’m here. You’re here..” His eyes locked onto mine desperately.

“I got you,” he whispered. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. I promise.”

I shakily lifted my hand, wrapping my fingers weakly around his wrist as if that alone could keep me tethered to reality.

“O-Okay,” I managed quietly.

But the moment I said it, another split of reality slammed into me harder than before.

The forest disappeared again. This time I saw the cabin, only it wasn’t ours anymore. It looked ancient. Destroyed.

The wooden walls had collapsed inward, windows shattered and blackened with age. Vines crawled up the sides like it had been abandoned for decades, left to decay in complete isolation. There was no light inside. No sound. No sign anyone had ever existed there at all.

A horrible ache spread through my chest. Like I was looking at a future where everyone was gone.

Sam must’ve seen something change in my face because he quickly pulled me against him without another word.

Strong, protective, desperate.

His arms wrapped tightly around me like he was physically trying to hold me inside reality itself, and honestly, it was the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart.

I clung to him instantly, my fingers gripping tightly onto the back of his jacket as my entire body began to shake uncontrollably.

“I’ve got you…” he whispered against my hair. But he didn’t sound confident anymore. He sounded terrified.

I focused on everything I could about him just to stay grounded. The warmth of his body against mine. The rapid pounding of his heart beneath his jacket. The familiar smell of leather, coffee, and cold air clinging to him.

Anything, anything to stop myself from slipping further away.

Then I heard it again. A whisper. It was Low and distorted, right beside my ear. All I could hear was my name being called by something that didn’t sound human. I stiffened instantly.

Before I could even react, something ripped across my back. Pain exploded through me so violently it stole the air from my lungs completely.

A sharp, burning agony tore through my body like claws dragging directly across my spine. I gasped harshly, my grip on Sam instantly loosening as my knees nearly gave out beneath me.

“What the hell was that?!” Dean yelled.

The sound of his shotgun clicking upward echoed through the trees as he spun wildly, searching the fog around us for anything that could’ve touched me.

But there was nothing there. Only fog, darkness. Only that horrible feeling of being watched.

My body suddenly felt unbearably weak. The pain spreading across my back burned hotter and hotter beneath my jacket, and I could feel something wet beginning to soak through the fabric.

Blood.

“Hey—hey, no, no, no—” Sam’s voice cracked completely.

His arms gripped firmly around me as he desperately tried to keep me upright against him when my body started going limp.

“No,” he breathed shakily. “No, stay with me. Stay with me, please.” Pure panic had fully settled into his voice now.

He adjusted his grip quickly, one arm holding me tightly against his chest while his shaking hand pressed carefully against the wounds on my back. The second he touched them, I felt him flinch.

There was a lot of blood. Too much.

“Oh god,” Sam whispered, horror flooding his face as blood began soaking through his fingers. “No, no, no…”

His breathing became uneven as he tried harder to keep pressure on the wounds, his hands trembling so badly I could feel it through my jacket.

“Stay with me!” he suddenly shouted, his voice breaking violently. “Please! I can’t lose you—Dean! Help me!”

I could hear Dean rushing toward us through the fog, but the sound already felt distant somehow. Warped. Like reality itself was beginning to pull away from me again.

“Fuck…” Dean dropped beside us hard, panic flooding his expression the second he saw the blood. “She’s bleeding a lot.”

Sam carefully lowered himself to his knees with me still clutched in his arms, refusing to let go of me for even a second.

“I didn’t bring first aid,” Dean muttered frantically, looking around helplessly like supplies might magically appear. “I—I didn’t think—”

“Dean!” Sam snapped, tears visibly gathering in his eyes now as he looked down at me. “Do something!”

I could barely focus anymore. Sam’s face was starting to blur at the edges, his voice echoing strangely in my ears as the forest around us flickered again and again between realities.

But even through the haze, I could still feel him desperately holding onto me.

A cold numbness slowly began creeping through my body beneath the burning pain in my back. At first I thought I was just losing consciousness.

The edges of my vision blurred harder, the trees around us warping in and out beneath the heavy fog as Sam’s voice continued echoing somewhere above me. His hands were still desperately trying to keep pressure against my back, trembling so violently now that I could feel every shake through my jacket.

“Stay awake,” he kept saying frantically. “Hey, stay with me. Look at me, come on—please.”

I tried to focus on him, I really did. But something felt wrong. Worse than before.

Not just in my head anymore.

In my body.

A strange tingling sensation spread slowly down my arms, sharp and electric beneath my skin. My stomach twisted violently as the feeling worsened, like every nerve in my body had suddenly stopped knowing where it belonged.

Then Sam froze.

Completely.

His breathing stopped for a second.

“Fuck, what’s happening…” he whispered. The fear in his voice made Dean immediately look up.

“What?” Dean asked sharply.

Sam’s eyes were locked onto my arm. I followed his stare weakly and my heart nearly stopped. My hand was flickering. Not metaphorically.

Actually flickering.

The edges of my fingers distorted strangely, breaking apart into thin fragments of static-like darkness before snapping back into place again. It looked wrong in every possible way, like reality itself couldn’t fully hold onto me anymore.

Dean visibly paled.

“What the fuck…” Another violent glitch tore through my body. This time my entire arm flickered halfway transparent for a split second.

Sam grabbed onto me harder, like pure instinct had taken over.

“No.” His voice cracked sharply. “No, no, no, no—” Panic exploded across his face completely now.

His hands moved frantically over my arms, my face, my shoulders like he was trying to physically force me to stay solid beneath his touch.

“Hey!” he shouted desperately. “Hey, stay here! Look at me!”

My body spasmed painfully as pieces of me distorted in and out of existence again, brief flashes of transparency breaking through my skin like a failing signal. Dean stumbled back half a step in horror.

“Sam…”

“No!” Sam snapped instantly, louder than I’d ever heard him. Tears were visibly streaming down his face now, his breathing ragged and uneven as he held onto me tighter. “She’s not going anywhere!”

The forest around us began flickering too.

Trees warped between two different versions of themselves. The fog thickened and thinned in violent pulses while distant whispers echoed from somewhere beyond reality itself.

And through all of it—Sam completely lost composure.

“You stay with me!” he yelled desperately, both hands gripping my face now. “Do you hear me?! Stay here! Stay with me!”

My body flickered again. This time my legs disappeared completely for half a second before snapping back.

Dean swore loudly under his breath, panic finally fully breaking through him too. He spun toward the woods wildly, shotgun raised.

“What do we do?! Sam, what the hell do we do?!”

But Sam looked completely shattered now. Because every time I glitched beneath his hands—

He looked more terrified. Like he was watching me die slowly in front of him and couldn’t stop it.

“I can’t—I can’t hold her,” he choked out suddenly, voice breaking apart completely. “Dean, I can’t—”

“Yes you can!” Dean snapped immediately, though his own voice shook badly. “Sam, we aren’t losing her!”

But Sam barely heard him. His forehead pressed shakily against mine as he clung to me harder, like if he held me close enough reality wouldn’t be able to rip me away.

“You’re not leaving me,” he whispered desperately. “Please… please don’t leave me.”

Then another violent distortion tore through me. A horrible static-like sound ripped through the air as my entire body flickered violently, nearly disappearing altogether for one terrifying second.

Sam let out a broken sound somewhere between a yell and a sob as he nearly lunged forward trying to hold onto me harder.

“NO! This is not happening! I am not losing you!” Sam’s voice shattered through the woods, raw enough that it made something in my chest ache.

Panic had completely overtaken him now, stripping away every ounce of composure he usually carried so carefully. His arms locked around me as my body flickered violently against him, pieces of me dissolving into thin fractures of static before briefly reforming beneath his trembling hands.

The forest around us no longer looked stable.

The fog surged in massive waves, swallowing entire sections of the woods before spitting them back out distorted and wrong. The air screamed with that horrible tearing sound again, like reality itself was splitting open somewhere nearby.

But Sam wasn’t looking at any of it. His entire world had narrowed down to me slipping through his fingers.

“Look at me,” he begged shakily, both hands cradling my face now as tears streamed uncontrollably down his cheeks. “Please, sweetheart. Stay with me.”

My vision blurred hard enough that his face kept phasing in and out of focus. I could still feel the warmth of him surrounding me though, the frantic rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers desperately pressed against my skin like he was trying to memorize every part of me before I disappeared completely.

Another violent distortion tore through my body. Sam physically lurched forward when half my torso vanished beneath his grip, his hands passing through empty air before I snapped partially back into place again.

“Oh god…” he choked out, shaking so badly he could barely hold onto me anymore. “Please don’t do this to me.”

Dean dropped beside us again, horror written all over his face as he watched me continue breaking apart in Sam’s arms.

“Sam…” he said quietly, helplessly.

But Sam barely heard him. He pulled me impossibly closer against his chest, one hand sliding into my hair while the other clung tightly to my waist as if he thought enough force could keep reality from taking me.

“I need you here,” he whispered brokenly against my forehead. “Do you hear me? I need you with me.”

My throat tightened painfully. His voice sounded destroyed, like he already knew he was losing me and couldn’t survive it.

“I’m trying…” I whispered weakly.

“I know,” he said, crying harder now. “I know you are.”

The forest flickered again. For a split second I saw that other world bleeding through the trees, the dead woods, the rotting cabin, the endless dark fog stretching beyond it.

And this time it felt closer than Sam did. My legs began to dissolve completely.

Sam let out a strangled sob as he grabbed for me harder, his hands slipping through fragments of me before reconnecting again.

“No…” His voice cracked apart completely. “No, stay with me. Stay here. I won’t survive without you, please.”

Dean looked panicked now too, his shotgun hanging uselessly at his side as he searched the woods helplessly like there had to be something to shoot, something to fight, something he could kill to stop this from happening.

But there was nothing. Nothing except me disappearing in Sam’s arms.

Sam’s forehead pressed shakily against mine as he tried desperately to ground me again.

“You remember the cabin this morning?” he whispered frantically through tears. “You remember the coffee? You remember laughing at Dean for falling out of bed? Stay with that. Stay here with me.”

God, those words nearly broke me. I didn’t want to disappear, I didn’t want to leave him or Dean. They were all I had.

His voice trembled violently with every word, like he was trying to pull me back using pieces of our life together.

“You can’t leave,” he whispered. “Not like this.”

My arm suddenly disappeared entirely. Sam grabbed at empty space instinctively before my hand flickered back into existence for one brief second. He intertwined our fingers and held on so tightly it almost hurt.

“You promised me,” he cried softly. “You promised you weren’t going anywhere.”

My chest tightened painfully as I looked at him. Sam Winchester looked shattered.

His eyes were bloodshot and overflowing with tears, his breathing uneven and broken as panic completely consumed him. There was no control left in him right now. No strategy. Just a man desperately trying to hold onto me.

“I’m scared,” I admitted weakly. The words destroyed whatever was left holding him together.

A sob tore out of him as he pulled me closer again, clutching me against his chest like he was terrified the slightest bit of distance would take me faster.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know, sweetheart. I’m scared too.”

Then my body started dissolving faster. Pieces of me peeled away into static-like fragments right in front of him, vanishing into the fog as the pull became unbearable.

Sam cried out brokenly and grabbed onto me with both hands, desperately trying to keep me there even as parts of me slipped through his fingers.

“Please,” he begged through sobs. “Please don’t leave me here alone.”

For one brief second, I felt him pull me back toward him. I could feel his heartbeat. His hands.

The warmth of him desperately trying to keep me tethered to the world. Then reality finally tore open completely. Sam’s grip slipped.

I’ve never really requested before so I hope this makes sense!! 🫶

⁠♡ 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓮

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!reader (hunter)

CW: 18+ MDNI, canon violence & injuries, friends to lovers, language, oral & fingering (f receiving), some overstim, protected pinv, pet names, lots of precious fluff <3

WC: 2.5K

A/n: I love episode-specific requests! Anything with season 1 Sammy is a plus. He looked so cute with his metal bracket in his giant dog kennel omg

“They were just people?” Dean glanced at you in the rearview mirror, his brows knit in confusion.

“Very fucked up, inbred people who hunted humans for sport—yes.”

Sam chuckled in that effortlessly handsome way, his eyes flashing to you briefly before returning to his lap. 

The air in the Impala was uncomfortably thick, bordering on oppressive. 

It wasn’t what he said. He didn’t say anything. 

You had been knocked down, quickly scrambling backwards, reaching a discarded hatchet on the ground. The man had you lined in his sights. A gunshot erupted and you waited for the pain to come, or your world to go dark. He collapsed, nearly landing on you. Sam rushed to your side, his hand brushing hair out of your face while he scanned you for injuries. His rough pad quickly traced your jawline 

It was the way he looked at you when he realized you weren’t hurt. Relief that he didn’t have to try and live without you. Panic at how close he came to losing you. He quickly helped you to your feet and pulled you towards him with his big hand firmly on the back of your neck, pressing you tight against his chest. Close enough to hear his pulse hammering and his breath shaking.

“Sam…”

He shook his head, breaking whatever trance he had fallen into, realizing the danger was far from over. He quickly released you so you could regroup with Dean and the sheriff's deputy.

Now, he stared out the window hoping that you hadn’t clocked his moment of weakness. 

What was an appropriate amount of time to wait after the tragic loss of a partner? Anyway, you'd probably just dismiss him as your best friend’s lovesick kid brother.

You stopped at the small diner near the motel. Dean somehow still had an appetite—yours was gone after seeing the jars of human teeth and other miscellaneous nastiness. 

Even after being kept in a human-sized iron dog kennel for more than a day, Sam was barely touching his food. Dean side-eyed him, stealing fries from his plate without so much as a glance.

Sensing awkward tension that he had no interest in talking about, Dean dropped you both off at the motel. You were dirty and sore. Disgusted from being manhandled by those animals. Grateful you had gotten a tetanus shot in the last ten years given the large gash on your low back from a piece of scrap metal. 

“Mind if I shower first?” 

Sam nodded, graciously insisting, still struggling to maintain eye contact for more than a millisecond. 

You were eager to wash the grime and the tension from your aching muscles. 

While you showered, Sam started running lines in his head. Possible scenarios. Your reactions. Preparing himself for the rejection. Coming close to psyching himself out. 

“Hey, Sam?” 

Your voice calling him from the bathroom brought him back. The sound of his name on your tongue always made his heart race. 

He stood up quickly, making his way to the door.

“Y-yeah?” 

You needed him to take a look at the cut on your back. It already felt angry and was bleeding again after drying off. 

He grabbed the med kid and gingerly opened the door, asking again if it was okay that he entered. 

You had put your bottoms on, a pair of cotton shorts that sat low on your hips, and a sports bra, but you were clutching a towel, keeping your chest covered. He swallowed hard. 

He’d seen you in your swimsuit a handful of times when you’d take advantage of being at a motel with a pool, or at the lake in the summer. This was different somehow.  

You turned your back to him, and he winced at the painful looking gash. 

“I might need to throw a stitch or two in that. It’s pretty deep.” 

You groaned but were relieved it was Sam taking care of it. Despite having the man-equivalent of bear paws, he was soft and delicate when the task required it. 

He closed the toilet lid and sat down to get a better angle and to work comfortably. 

“Uh..just, c’mere.” He guided you to stand in front of him with a carefully-placed hand on your hip. You stumbled a bit but his firm grip steadied you. Your breath hitched slightly at the way his calloused pads grazed the soft skin in between your hips. 

Trying to still his shaking hands, he took a deep breath and you felt the warm puff of air against the dip in your back. 

“Try and stay still, ‘kay?” 

You nodded in response.

He got to work sanitizing the wound. The sting from the antiseptic made you twitch. He apologized quietly and rubbed his thumb on your side to comfort you. You winced when he threw each stitch, but he was quick and gentle. Once he cut the excess string, you finally broke the silence. 

“So…Sam? Can we talk?” 

His eyes widened and he hummed in response. 

“What was that? The look you gave me…the way you—I don’t know. Never mind.” You chuckled nervously, gently shaking your head. 

“Hey—“

Gently turning you around to face him, he took a moment to collect himself while admiring your soft expression.

“I was scared. Really fucking scared. That I might have lost you. I couldn’t—can’t.” He shook his head, trying to extinguish the thought. “It made me realize that I’ve wasted a lot of time.” 

You frowned and tilted your head slightly. One of the small things you did that made his heart race and lips curl into a smile. 

His mouth was dry, making the attempt to wet his lips impossible.

“I, uh—I love you. I always have.” He smiled to himself, a relieved sigh escaping him. It felt so right hearing himself say it. “I’m crazy about you. I miss you when you leave for five minutes, I can’t stand being away from you…”

“Sam—“

It was like he didn’t even hear you. 

“But I can’t keep pretending anymore. I don’t want to be just friends anymore. When I see you with someone else I just—“

“SAM.”

He finally looks up at you with glossy eyes and that puppy-dog expression. 

You gripped his face with both hands, dropping the towel, and pulled him towards you, kissing him harder than he was prepared for. He was too shocked to react. He was still holding the surgical thread and scissors in his hands when you pulled away. 

Your small fingers threaded through his fluffy bangs. A simple gesture that always made him melt. He looked up at you like you’d hung the moon—hell, like you created the damn thing. His eyes drifted down, briefly eyeing your newly exposed skin. 

“Me too, Sam.” 

He quickly abandoned the supplies in his hand. The scissors dropped to the floor with a metallic clatter. He stood up quickly and was on you. Large hands threaded in your hair, tilting your head back to kiss you deeply. He only broke contact enough to breathe before he was swallowing your tiny gasps and moans. 

“Say it—please.”

You let out a breathy giggle. “Say what?” 

He groaned. Sam had a love-hate relationship with your teasing. 

“Tell me that you love me. Please, I need to hear it.” 

You pulled back enough to look at him with your forehead almost touching his. It was hard not to get lost in his eyes. They were swirling nebulas of green, blue, and brown. 

“I love you, Sam Win—“ 

He moaned against you. A beautiful sound that shot straight to your core. He lifted you with both hands cradling the backs of your thighs. His rough pads squeezed your flesh while he carried you out of the dingy motel bathroom.

He laid you on the mattress like you were delicate, but his mouth moved like he was starving. His tongue sliding against yours. Teeth occasionally nipping at your bottom lip. He pulled away to admire you beneath him—your swollen lips and flushed cheeks, only a thin layer of fabric separating him from the breasts he’d dreamt about for years. You pressed your thighs together at the sight of him towering over you, but you knew you were safe with him. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, baby.” 

Your cheeks flushed at the pet name. 

“Yeah? Show me, Sam.” 

The look on your face was threatening to undo him. He pulled off his shirt and popped the button on his jeans before kicking them off and kneeling over you again. The sight of him—perfectly toned, a deep v of muscles continuing below the waistband of his boxers, his soft, golden skin—made your mouth water. Your cocky attitude was lost when you saw the hard line straining against the thin fabric of his boxers. A man that sweet and shy had no business being that gifted. 

“You okay?” 

Now it was your turn to feel nervous. You nodded and tried to swallow the dry lump in your throat. 

“I’m gonna take care of you-–always gonna take care of you.” 

Sensing your apprehension, he kissed you softly and felt you start to relax while he traced his fingers across your collarbone, slowly moving to tease the edge of your bra. 

“Can I take this off?” 

You hummed, nodding more eagerly as you helped him unclasp it, and discarding it on the floor. 

He admired you for a moment like you were a piece of fine art. He finally palmed your breast, gently rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger. His mouth landed on the other, sucking the hardened peak and nipping gently causing your breath to hitch. 

His palm trailed down your belly, fingertips pressing into your soft flesh, and skirted the edge of your waistband.

“Tell me what you need.”  

“Please touch me—I need you.” 

He felt like he had died and gone to heaven. His hand slid past the elastic and he felt nothing but your soft skin above your wet, puffy folds. 

“Fuck, no panties?” 

You smiled nervously and shrugged. “I don’t like wearing them to bed—sue me.” 

He quickly pulled your shorts down and quietly moaned at the sight. He was desperate to bury his face between your legs—he’d had dreams about how sweet you taste. How soft and warm you feel. The sounds you’d make when he made you come. This was putting all of those fantasies to shame.

You closed your knees anxiously, but his palms gently parted your thighs for him. 

“Can I? Please? Wanna taste you.” 

You hummed sweetly and relaxed back into the plush comforter.

He slid two fingers though your slit and coated them in your wetness. He couldn’t help but taste you, sucking the sweetness off both of his digits before pressing them past your tight entrance. 

You wrapped around him like a velvety glove and the sound he drew from you was so sweet and melodic. Once he wrapped those pretty lips around your clit, every ounce of nervous energy was gone. He switched between broad licks and rhythmic sucking, every speed and variation, trying to figure out what you needed. All the while thrusting his curled fingers in your dripping cunt, filling the room with obscenely wet sounds. 

You moaned and twitched, responding to every touch. It was too much and not enough. He laid an arm across your belly to keep you still and he couldn’t help but paw at your soft breasts. 

When your orgasm hit, he kept pumping his fingers and massaging that sweet spot deep inside, where his long fingers hit perfectly. Your thighs closed around him, but his broad shoulders left him plenty of room to work. Once your fingers started tugging at his locks and you wiggled away from the oversensitivity, he slowly withdrew his fingers and admired the creamy wetness coating them from your climax. 

He planted a soft kiss on your thigh and gave you a moment to come down. He left to grab a condom from his duffle bag. When he turned toward you again, he found you sitting on your heels with a pretty little smile, waiting for him to come back. He did his best to commit the image to memory. 

“Can I put it on?” You held your hand out and gestured towards the silver wrapper.

He huffed a weak laugh watching you use your teeth to tear at the corner, then at your proud little smirk when you finally got it open. 

You tugged the waistband of his boxers down and stared in wonder at the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. Flushed pink tip that was already leaking precome. You gave him a few pumps before he caught your wrist. 

“Fiiine.” You playfully rolled your eyes and finally rolled the condom down slowly. You could barely fit a hand around him and he felt so heavy. 

He kissed you again and you could still taste your sweet arousal on his lips. Laying down, he rolled you on top of him and let his cock settle against your tight entrance.

“You’re so pretty, Sammy.” 

A pink blush spread across his face and he laughed nervously. “I think that’s my line, sweetheart.” 

You raised your hips and rubbed his swollen tip through your sensitive folds before lowering yourself down onto him. The stretch was all you imagined but your walls slowly fluttered to accommodate him perfectly. His fingertips pressed tightly into the plush flesh of your hips as he encouraged you to take him deeper. 

Your head lolled back, and you softly mewled as you settled in his lap. You only gave yourself a moment to adjust before bracing your hands on his chest and rocking your hips. 

“Fuck—you feel so good.” He gripped you tightly and guided you along his length, bucking his hips up to thrust into you.  Sam watched as your tiny fingers started rubbing your clit, chasing your high again. 

“Dirty girl.” He mumbled as he flipped you over without pulling out. 

He brushed your hand aside, replacing it with his own, and rubbed tight circles around the sensitive bud. His hips rocked perfectly to massage your g-spot making your eyes roll back. 

“Say it—again. Please.” 

Your eyes fluttered open and your lips turned into a soft smile.

He stilled his hips enough to make you whine at the loss of friction. 

“love you, Sam—soo much.” 

He leaned over you and drank the words in like he was parched. 

“Sounds better every time I hear it.” 

His hips snapped against yours at a blinding pace, his fingers petting your clit to match his thrusts. It took no time for you to gush around him again, screaming his name like it was the only word you knew anymore. The way your walls pulsed rhythmically around him milked him dry, filling the condom up, but wishing it was you. 

Sam nearly collapsed on you. Just propping himself up on his forearms and pressing his forehead against yours. Both of you panting and shimmering with sweat. 

After another shower, together this time, and throwing one of his soft t-shirts on, you slipped into the cool sheets together. He pulled your back flush against his chest, letting you nuzzle into his arm like a pillow. With his head tucked against your shoulder, the last thing you heard before being pulled under by exhaustion was another quiet I love you. 

(Sam Winchester x f!reader)

Summary: Sam Winchester doesn’t do quickies. But after spending far too much time with nothing more than a couple lingering touches—you’re getting a little frustrated. Too bad Dean can’t seem to take a hint.

CW: Barely any plot, quickies, unprotected PIV, hot library sex (mmm), reader is a little a lot frustrated, Dean’s a major cock block, getting caught (so, accidental voyeurism? I guess?), and no, they’re not into it… sorry!

WC: 4.6K

Based on this request!

Dating Sam Winchester x Reader Headcanons

Very big on quiet reading dates with tea that has long gone cold but the room feels peaceful. Just something about you two snuggled up on a couch reading sets his mind at ease.

Sitting in the Impala while it rains. The sound of rain beating against the roof as you two hold hands is another thing to put him at ease.

Occasionally there are a few instances of cheesy dates at truck stops or gas station food when you're on missions. Sometimes he gets souvenirs from wherever they are that have some Corny line on them.

When Dean isn't in the Motel and you two are alone he sometimes watches cartoons. Sometimes you talk about childhood cartoons that you grew up watching. He likes hearing about people's "normal" childhoods.

Sometimes he tries to cook little treats for you in the motel microwave. He's gotten very good at creating something big out of very little when it comes to living in the motel rooms.

Having to suffer the relentless teasing from Dean about being a couple. He can't go one day without teasing his brother about having a little lover.

Sometimes he talks about his time at Stanford. Sometimes talking about the college pranks he witnessed or was a part of. The hours of studying he had done in order to get away from his dad.

Lots of conversations about what life would be like without hunting monsters all the time. He envisions himself with the family. That's very close-knit and well-loved. It just seems out of reach at times because of all the hunting.

100% the type of guy to create a mixtape for you of all the songs that you both love to listen to. He would want to have your name as the title of it.

– 🤎🪽

u always have such great requests!! i love that u trust me to deliver <33

(these can be read as platonic or romantic, gn!reader)

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE