Join The Hunt

Join the Hunt

Summary: Ever want to be included in the show, as a Winchester? Wait no more. Follow y/a, Sam and Dean through 15 seasons of saving people, hunting things the family business.

Season 1

1.1 Pilot

1.2 Wendigo 

Ahhh!

Sorry I wasn’t able to post like I said. The hotel I was at had no Wi-Fi and no signal! Plus I’m sleep deprived 😂 I’ll post again later this week. But sorry if anyone feels like I wasn’t interacting, I just never got the chance I wanted ❤️

Edit: I tried to post when I was away. It didn’t seem to send. Let me add context 😂 I was away at my fathers wedding, so thought I would have time in the evening to be online, and post but as mentioned above that went out the window.

I love you

Dad!Bobby x reader

Summary: You had gone on a hunt alone, simple salt and burn. But when has a hunter’s life ever been simple?

a/n – Sorry, I really like angst fanfics! Hopefully I’ll be able to get part two to join the hunt out next week sometime, but bear with if not as I have a training course for work. Feedback appreciated :)

warnings – angst, demons, bleeding out, blood, blade.

word count: 1109 

You had gone on a hunt alone, simple salt and burn. But when has a hunter’s life ever been simple?

“Fuck!” You yelled. You had just finished the salt and burn, the grave glowing oranges and yellows, the ghost haunting and killing young children put to rest, when suddenly a sharp pain stabbed you in the side. You looked down, a blade was stuck in your side, it felt like poison was flooding your body, you could feel your t-shirt getting wet with blood. ‘Fuck! Why are hunts never so simple’ you thought to yourself, the pain becoming more and more unbearable, paralyzing even.

You coughed a little, blood splattering over your hand and dribbling down your face. The coughing moved the blade within you, and a new wave of pain rushed through your body. Whoever or what had gotten you was hidden in the darkness, but you could hear it, footsteps getting closer.

“My, my, my” A deep voice emerged, surrounding you, it sounded as if it was coming from all directions. The creature stepped out in front of you, in body clad in a black crisp suit, dark red splotches scatted on the material. Its hair was slicked back, styled smartly. It emerged from the shadows, into the slight light the salt and burn was casting, blue eyes, switching and turning black, the smell of sulphur and rotten eyes overpowering your senses.

The demon laughed, more like cackled as it walked towards you. If you weren’t incapacitated you would have fought back, but the searing pain froze you to the spot you were stood in. The vessel the demon was occupying was definitely attractive, but that didn’t matter. The demon got closer, until it was a few inches from your face, it grabbed at your face, leaning forward, inhaling your scent. “My, my, my” it repeated again, leaning in towards you, its hot breath ghosting over your ear.

“Who would have thought that I would get the jump on the infamous y/n Singer” it whispered, its voice sweet almost melodic, but the sinister undertone was still there. “I can’t wait to tell your dear old father” it continues, running a finger over your cheek, down to your side, where the hilt on the blade was sticking out of you. Its hand wrapped around it, wiggling it up and down, the pain surging again, as your knees weakened, and you collapsed to the floor with a gasp. The blade puncturing more of your insides as it stayed in the demon’s hand when you fell.

“Oh, yes!” it giggles manically, “I can’t wait to tell dear old daddy, but first you get to suffer” It kicked you in the side, dirt and mucked adding and mixing into your wound. It turned to look at you, smirking before disappearing in a cloud of black smoke. You could feel the blood pouring out of your side faster than before, laying down you curled into a ball, trying to maintain body head. You could hardly feel your hands and feet by now, your body going into shock with the blood loss, but you willed yourself to dig around in your pocket, pulling out the phone, and calling the only man you had on speed dial.

The phone rings a few times, your close to giving up, conserving your energy, when a gruff voice finally answered.

“What have you done now, Idgit” The voice askes, the undertones soft and gentle, caring.

“Dad” you whisper, more blood pouring out of your mouth, you breath in shakily, pain rippling throughout you. “I need to visit you soon; it’s been too long” You try to keep your voice cheerful, not allow him to realise anything is wrong

“What’s wrong y/n” His voice is hard. Of course, you couldn’t fool your dad, of course the infamous Bobby Singer knew when something was wrong. The concern in his voice rolling in waves through the phone, you could imagine him now, standing in the yard, dark eyebrows scrunching in confusion.

“Nothing’s wrong Dad” You squeak out, before a coughing fit overtakes your body, droplets of blood being expelled out of your mouth.

“That’s Bullshit, y/n!” He yells, dad could always tell when you were lying, but you ignored him, continuing with the story, that nothing was wrong.

“I just wanted to call you Dad, it’s been awhile s’all” You whisper, energy draining from your body quicker after you stopped coughing. Though a smile planted itself on your face, thinking of your father and the memories you had with him.

Bobby takes awhile to respond, you can imagine the cogs in his head turning, trying to figure out what was going on and how to help you. But you knew you weren’t long for this world, and you needed to tell him one last thing.

“Dad” you gasped, it was getting harder to breath, your eyesight had started going black around the rims, almost like those stylised photos you saw every so often.

“I love you Dad” Your energy was almost depleted now. Body cold and blue, most of your blood on the floor underneath you. Your ears had started ringing, your brain going foggy. Closing your eyes, it was easier to concentrate on your father’s comforting voice.

“Y/n! What is going on?” He yells down the phone, impatience and fear radiating from his voice.

“I love you Dad” You responded, a happy smile slipping over your face as you got to tell him something you didn’t say often. A hunter’s life was one of gore and hard-faced people, not a life full of lovey moments, though you wished you had said that you loved him more.

You couldn’t open your eyes anymore, eyelids to heavy to move. Your chest felt like the weigh of the world was rested upon it, organs shutting down one by one. Your heart slowing, trying to pump the last remaining blood around your system, your lungs hard inflating with much needed oxygen. It was your time. “I love you, Daddy.” You mustered up the last of your strength, taking the deepest breath you could, before repeating the three little words you wished you had told your father more. Your soul started to slip from your body, the ache in your side becoming more distant, your senses becoming numb, fading. Your dads voice distant, yelling and pleading your name over and over again like a broken record. You smiled as darkness encompassed you, your life slipping away, peace holding your hand as you crossed the line between life and death. Happy as you got to remind your dad that you loved him one last time.

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Main master list 

30 day writing  challenge

Main masterlist.

Summary: Using @creativepromptsforwriting 30 day challenge. I have decided to write the different prompts for different characters. Have edited some of the prompts to fit in more with an x reader insert.

Day 1: First kiss | Sam x reader

Day 2: No dialog | Dean x reader

Day 3: Use the words, kitchen, date and music | Eddie x reader

Day 4: pining | Eddie x reader

Day 5: 100 word drabble

Day 6: blackout

Day 7: Use the words, small town, bar, jukebox

Day 8: Finding a new hobby

Day 9: Heated debate

Day 10: Use the title, promises made, promises kept

Day 11: Dancing

Day 12: Explain readers motivation

Day 13: Write about the last thing the reader brought 

Day 14: Regret

Day 15: Girls night

Day 16: Thank you

Day 17: Car ride

Day 18: Use a song as a title

Day 19:  Write a story about taking the bus and just sitting there till the last station without the need to go anywhere.

Day 20:  Write about someone who lost a lot of weight

Day 21: Angst

Day 22: Use the words hearing aids, park bench and deep conversation in your next story.

Day 23: Dreaming

Day 24: Use the words, crown, dance and smile

Day 25: String lights and polaroid's 

Day 26: Use the title, Like waves in the ocean

Day 27: Write an ending without a beginning

Day 28: Confessions

Day 29: Nicknames

Day 30:  Write about someone getting their first tattoo

let’s talk about the early stages of hyperfixation where you can literally feel your brain getting doses of serotonin because of a show or a movie or a person or a character and mentally you’re like ‘ooooh no’ but it’s like a blackhole you can’t run or escape from so you just gotta ride it out knowing full well the next few months maybe even years are going to be spent mindlessly obsessing over this thing

Wish, I could have told you sooner

Day 2: No dialogue

Dean x reader

Summary: Dean wishes he had spoke sooner

a/n:I said this would take longer than 30 days XD. Heres day two! Very angsty. I love angst (if you couldnt tell).

warnings: Angst, and more angst

word count: 625

Dean stared at the bright phone screen. The phone displaying all his messages sent to you, the little green text boxes haunting him, teasing him even. Every single one had been sent and delivered, yet never read; and he knew deep down, that they would never be read. Dean was in his own world, nothing around him mattered, he was numb yet felt everything at the same time, though his eyes still stayed fixated on the screen in front of him. It was only when the texts and screen started to become difficult to read and became blurry, did Dean realise he was crying. Tears dropping onto the messages, magnifying the words.

Dean always used to say no chick flick moments. Normally, he kept his heart caged, locked up with his emotions; but today all his rules went out the window. Before he would have scrubbed furiously at his eyes until they were red and raw, but to the point where he knew his tears had been erased. But today he didn’t care. He didn’t care who would see him; he just continued to sit there, allowing his tears to dribble down his cheek before dripping onto the phone screen.

Dean was warm in his suit, he never really dressed for the nines. But today was different. He felt uncomfortable, and restricted. The impala felt smaller and didn’t feel like home. Baby pulled up by the green grass, the driver Dean had hired not speaking a word. Dean clutched at the flowers in his hands, knuckles going red and purple. He could tell he was nervous, his hands were getting sweaty, so he gripped the flowers tighter. He took one last look at his phone, before slipping it into his suit pocket. The inward battle to get out of the car was almost too great, and he nearly asked the driver to turn around, so he could go back to bed; but he knew you would want him to be there. So, he slowly clambered out the car, his legs were wobbly, and he felt like a baby dear learning to walk, but he put one foot in front of the other, walking towards the green grass, to where the others were stood.

It felt like Dean had been stood for hours, yet in reality it was 5 minutes. He spotted his brother first, and bobby. Before he saw the brown stained wood, formed to perfection. It was quiet and no one said a word. Dean was asked if he wanted to help carry you out, but he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to believe in was you being carried.

He watched as you were lowered softly and gently into your new home. He hardly paid attention to anything else. He felt like someone else was in control of him, almost as this was all a bad dream. He pinched himself yet didn’t wake up. It wasn’t a bad dream; it was a real-life nightmare.

He watched as people started to turn and walk away. He watched as your gravestone was placed, and you were covered with dirt. He watched until he was the last one left. He watched until he collapsed into a heap. Head leaning against the cold stone, which bared your name, Tears gushing down his face, his hands still clenching onto the flowers, like they were the only thing keeping him alive. He cried for hours, until the heavens opened, and his tears were inconspicuous from the rain. He cried for your loss, even when the evening came, and the sun started setting. He cried. He stayed until he was exhausted, his tears running out. He didn’t get to tell you everything he wanted to, and now he never would.

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main masterlist | 30 day masterlist | Day 1 | Day 3