Spn Oneshot - Tumblr Posts

[Sam, Dean and Cas are staying in some house temporarily while on a hunt]

Cas: There's a female woman at the door

Dean: (at Sam) Wh- why is he saying that? (Turns to Cas) Why are you saying that?

Cas looks at Dean blankly and motions to the door.

Sam looks at his watch as the doorbell rings.

Sam: Ooooh wait, that's probably for me.

Dean: (confusion)

Sam opens the door and accepts a package from a mail woman.

Dean and Cas look at each other

Dean: Wait... When we get deliveries, you're... You're thinking it's called the MALE-MAN!?

Dean doubles over, laughing

Dean: AND SINCE IT WAS A LADY YOU ASSUMED IT WOULD BE A FEMALE WOMAN!?

Castiel looks extremely confused

Cas: that's what you said the other day, though, I know I heard you right? Male man???

Sam: (sets down with his package, pointing at it and smiling) Mail, m a i l.

Dean is positively howling in the background.

AU where in why Dean is taking so long

Sam: Hey Dean, can you go check on Jack and tell him were gonna bake?

Dean: Sure thing

Dean: *sees jack in the living room with some sort of bright thing

Dean: Hey kid, what you up to? We're gonna be baking some pies and cookies and-

Jack: Oh, hey Dean!

Dean: is that...

Jack: a ligh-

Dean: LIGHTSABER

Dean: Did you make that?

Jack: Yeah! I got bored and just taught of a lightsaber and it just came out of nowhere..

Dean: That is so COOL...

meanwhile in the kitchen..

Castiel: Hello, Sam

Sam: Hey, Cas

Castiel: *looks around the kitchen

Castiel: Where is Dean and Jack? I thought we were gonna have some family time and bake?

Sam: I got Dean to call Jack. Although, I don't know what's taking him so long to call Jack.

Cas: By the way, here are the ingredients we didn't have.

Sam: Thanks Cas..

Cas: I believe we should go check on Dean and Jack.

Sam: We probably should, it's been 18 minutes..

*Sam and Cas walks to the living room..

Dean: JACK!

*Sam and Cas looks at each other and hurry's to the living room

Sam: What happened!

Cas: What's going on!

Sam: What happened to Jack, Dean?!

Cas: Jack! What happened!

Dean: Whoah you guys, what's with all the questions?

Sam: What do you mean?! YOU SCREAMED FOR JACK, WHAT HAPPEND?!

Jack: Sam, Cas, calm down..

Cas: WHAT DO YOU MEAN CALM DOWN?! WE HEARD DEAN SCREAMED FOR-

Dean: WE WERE PLAYING AND ROLE PLAYING FOR CHUCK'S SAKE..

*Sam and Cas looks at the lightsabers Dean and Jack are holding

Sam: Is that a lightsaber?

Cas: Where did you get those?

Jack: I made them!

Dean: Yeah he made them! AND IT'S A REAL LIGHTSABER!!

Sam: WHAT?! YOU CAN GET HURT WITH THAT-

- and so they all kept bickering end ended up trashing the kitchen -

let me know if y'all want part 2!

He Loves Me Not

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 910

Summary: Dean is giving you the cold shoulder... why? 

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Hope you like it!

Dean grunted as you tightly wrapped a bandage around his arm. He fixed you with a death glare and you tried not to flinch. If looks could kill, the piercing green stare that was on you would have made your heart stop beating in the blink of an eye. You had to take that grunt as a ‘thanks’ because just then the hunter got up from the arm of the couch and stalked off to his room, leaving you there to stare at his retreating back. Each step that led him further away from you felt like a stab in your heart, because you felt things about him. Things that you weren’t necessarily proud of, but things that were there nonetheless, and they made your skin tingle at the barest brush of skin on skin. You heard Sam clear his throat from behind you and you shook your head to clear your brain, tearing your eyes away from the long-closed door of Dean’s room. You turned to face the younger Winchester, who had his eyebrows raised in a silent inquiry.

“What is it?” you asked him, feeling your cheeks redden under his gaze, and you fought to keep control of your voice. Sam tilted his head in the direction of Dean’s bedroom. “You and Dean. I know that the way he’s been acting is bothering you, it’s clear as crystal. I know how you feel about him,” he said. “You... you know? Is it that obvious?” you asked, feeling your cheeks heat up. You knew there was no reason in denying your feelings about Dean; not to Sam and definitely not to yourself. Sam nodded. “Everybody but Dean knows,” he said.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down. For God’s sake, you were a hunter; you couldn’t have a panic attack if Sam and Cas knew about your love life -or lack thereof. “Why is he acting this way though?” you blurted out just as Sam was about to turn around and start his research on anything that would be any help with finishing the current case. “Why is he treating me like I’m trash? I’m only here to help you the way you two helped me,” you sighed.

“I think he’s just jealous. You show up out of nowhere, you’re a top-notch hunter, you know how to do stuff. Don’t worry; he’ll adjust. Plus... I’m sure he likes you too. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.” “Not acting like a bastard would be good to begin with,” you muttered under your breath, and Sam gave you an apologetic smile. “You’ll get to that,” he said, and left to start the research that would bring you one step closer to finding out more about the monsters hot on your tail but would not make you understand Dean’s reasons for acting like he hated your guts.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed that night had fallen, and Sam had long exited the room to go to sleep. The ever-vigilant hunter part of you that was half-asleep barely registered a bedroom door open and close as Dean walked into the living room. His eyes met yours and it was as if you had been doused with ice water. You jolted to your feet immediately and tried hard not to look flustered. “Dean,” you acknowledged him with a nod, quickly looking away and avoiding meeting his eyes. “Y/n,” he said, and his deep voice was surprisingly gentle. It had always been gruff when directed towards you, dismissive but not less attractive. Now that his voice was soft and almost tender, it practically sent shivers down your spine.

“What is it?” you asked him, and you were surprised when you felt fingers gently stroke your chin and life your head up so that your gaze met Dean’s green eyes. “I heard what you and Sam were talking about a couple of hours ago,” he stated, and you felt another blush rush to your cheeks. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that way. That was never my intention. I was just... protecting myself in the completely wrong way. What Sammy said was true. I do like you,” he confessed, biting his plump lower lip and drawing your gaze straight down to the path his teeth and tongue made. It was obvious that he’d noticed you looking as he leaned down to reach your height and pressed his lips on yours.

God, those lips combined with those skills should be illegal, you thought, and that was as far as that train of thought went, because he had pushed you back down on the couch and he was kissing you so roughly and with so much abandon that it made your heart beat so fast it felt like it would break out of your ribcage. The heated kisses gradually slowed down to gentler, loving ones that allowed you both to explore each other. Eventually, he pulled away, out of breath, and his gaze met yours for one more time, only this time you didn’t flinch away. His pupils were blown wide with lust, almost completely covering the bright green of his irises, and you were mesmerised. “So you go from insulting me to kissing me senseless?” you teasingly managed to say in-between gasping breaths. Dean just winked at you. “Yep,” he said with a dazzling grin. “But I sure plan on just doing the latter from now on.”

I'm here for you.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 825

Warnings: Spoilers for season five, feels.

A/N: Hope y’all like it~ 

It was in that moment, that heart-shattering moment, in which you saw every last bit of Dean’s reserve crumble to dust as Sam, possessed by Lucifer, made his exit. Dean put his hands to his head in complete and utter despair, and in that one moment you saw a person you had never seen before. All of the hunter’s tough layers had peeled off and for the first time, you saw how much of a mess he actually was, how much pain he had had to endure in his life and how he had never allowed all that pain to exit his body. It was like seeing the tallest building crumble, a proud ruler kneel, an empire fall. And without a second thought, you rushed to his side to help him. You knew you were but the tiniest rock trying to hold back a flood, but you were all Dean needed in that moment. You put your arms gently around him, pulling him closer and gently stroking his back.

“Sam’s gonna be okay, Dean. He’s strong enough to pull through, he’s strong enough to take control over Lucifer and get this over and done with. I… I know he’s not coming back if he succeeds, but he will be remembered as the greatest hunter of all time. The smartest, the best,” you whispered, and he didn’t reply, but he hugged you closer to him, embracing you tightly. His breathing was uneven, and the tears were still flowing freely from his eyes, but he remained silent, and you took that as a silent invitation to go on with your consoling speech.

“And you’ll have his memory always with you,” you pulled away from his hug slightly to place your hand over the left side of his chest, where you could feel his heart flutter under his shirt.

“Right there,” you smiled up at him, a tad shyly, and while he did not smile back, he nodded.

“That still won’t be good enough. Sammy can’t be replaced by some memory, no matter how good that memory is,” he said, his voice deeper than usual from crying. He chewed on that plump lower lip of his unconsciously, and you couldn’t help but find your gaze drawn to the movement of his lips. Before you did anything rash, you shook your head ever so slightly to clear it, and then you took a deep breath to continue talking.

“I know a memory will never be adequate. I know nothing could ever be as good as Sam was; nothing could ever fill that hole inside you, but… for what it’s worth, I’ll always be here for you. Promise.” Pain flashed through his eyes for a millisecond. A new kind of pain, not the soul-wrecking one he’d been feeling up to that moment.

“How do you know that? How can you know that you’ll be here? You can’t promise things you know aren’t up to you. Sam was here for me yesterday, but now he isn’t.  Now, Satan’s wearing him as a meat suit and I am losing him. I have already lost him,” Dean managed to choke out between sobs, and a new wave of tears flowed out of his eyes. He grit his teeth as he shut his eyes tightly.

“I want this to end,” he whispered so silently you barely heard him, but that one simple phrase of his held so much meaning that the very force of his words caused you to shiver.

“Dean…” you murmured his name softly, and when he didn’t look at you, you repeated his name, slightly more forcefully this time.

“What is it?” he asked cracking his still teary eyes open, and you offered him the tiniest of encouraging smiles.

“I can’t promise you that I’ll always be here, but I can promise you I’ll try my best to be here for you for as long as I can,” you said, and his brilliant green eyes flickered with the tiniest spark of hope.

“Thank you,” he muttered, because he knew that when you gave your word you tried your damnedest to keep it. Your small smile grew into a grin, and you couldn’t help but notice his eyes travel down to your mouth. When your lips met Dean’s, it felt like a train wreck and a lullaby all at once. It was almost overwhelming. His kiss was forceful, needy, but there was an undertone of tenderness to the way his tongue explored your mouth and his teeth nipped on your lower lip. This was the first kiss you’d shared, and odds were it’d be the last, but the caress of Dean’s lips on yours felt comforting and wonderful, and you didn’t care that he was kissing you mostly because he needed an outlet for all of his pent-up emotions. Your heart beat for him, and you had given him your word. You’d be there for him no matter what ne needed.

Please, kill me.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 864

Warnings: Feels, spoilers for season ten, cursing

Summary: Dean asks something of Y/N, something she’s not sure she can do...

A/N: Hope you like it!

“Y/n,” Dean called out to you, voice surprisingly steady, as if he was struggling to keep it that way.

“I have something to tell you,” he said when you had made your way to him, sitting down on a chair next to him.

“Go on,” you said with a small smile, your gentle voice softly urging him on. You had realised the severity of the situation because of the look in his green eyes. You had never seen him like this, and it took you a bit by surprise. He was frowning, and his whole face had a clouded expression of thoughtfulness, but his eyes were practically talking to you. They were full of despair, and full of something else, too; something you couldn’t quite place, but it was there and the hurt it radiated was almost palpable.

You reached out and gently squeezed one of his hands, trying to reassure him.

Dean took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if composing himself. For a second, you were cut off from the torrent of emotions pouring out of his eyes, and this time when he opened them again, you were prepared.

“I...” He cleared his throat before continuing. “I want to tell you something. It’s... something very important.” He took one last deep breath before finally saying what he had wanted to tell you from the start.

“If... if anything happens to me; if I ever become the same murderous son of a bitch I was when I had the Mark... I... want you to do something for me,” he said, fixing you with a steady gaze. “In the line of work we’re in, you know that it’s entirely possible for the same thing to happen to me again. I don’t want that. I don’t want you and Sam and Cas to see me go through all that again. It’s not fair for you; it’s not fair for me; and most of all it’s not fair for the people I would mercilessly kill and their families.” Here, he paused to regain his bearings, and he tiredly rubbed his eyes with his free hand, the one you weren’t holding.

You were almost unable to breathe. You had the slightest idea of what he wanted you to do for him, and you were hoping he’d say something else, something less serious.

“I want you to kill me,” he stated, and that six-word sentence seemed to be your whole world in that moment. Like a mantra, it played again and again in your head. You were clutching Dean’s hand so tightly that you felt the hunter tense.

“I... I can’t... I could never do what you’re asking of me... Ask Sam...” you whispered, and he shook his head.

“You’re the only one I trust to do this. I know Sam. He’d never kill me, not if I begged him. You... you have to. For your own good. Please.” Dean was desperate now. He had been expecting a negative reaction, but he was determined to get his way.

When you expressed your disagreement again, he sighed, but didn’t give up.

“Please,” he repeated. “It has to happen that way. Not only for you and Sam and Cas, but for myself too. I won’t ever be a normal person again; I can’t take it anymore. So... if it ever comes to that... Kill me,” he said.

This time, you nodded. “Okay.” Your voice was small, hesitant, but it was all Dean had at the moment. And it was enough

“Thank you,” he said, and you nodded.

“Yeah... you’re welcome,” you whispered, smiling softly. You didn’t really want to smile, but it was either that or bursting into tears, so you decided that the first option was better.

“This means so friggin’ much to me, thanks,” he said, and you could only nod in reply.

You bit hard on your lower lip, and you felt a tear escape your eyes. Dean leaned forward and wiped it away with his thumb.

“Hey... hey, I’m sorry... but I had to say it. I needed to make sure that the world would be safe from me if anything happened again,” he said, and you leaned into his touch.

“Yes... I know. But that won’t stop me from being upset over it,” you murmured.

“But you will do it. If it’s the only option left, you will,” he said, almost as if trying to reassure himself.

“Yes,” you whispered, feeling another tear trickle down your cheek.

Instead of replying, Dean leaned forward to press his lips against yours. At first, it wasn’t much of a kiss; it was more of two pairs of lips touching each other. But then he opened his mouth, and you opened yours, and it was a heated tangle of tongues and limbs as you tried to come impossibly close to one another. When you pulled away, you were both breathing heavily and you had somehow straddled him in the passionate haze of the kiss.

“I said I will do it, but Dean, I don’t want to. I never want to get the chance to.”

Again, he didn’t reply. He just pulled you into another whirlwind of a kiss.

Weapons down

Pairing: Sam x reader or Dean x reader

Word Count: Sam: 972 Dean: 1092

Warnings: Feels and cursing for the Sam one.

A/N: This story has five lines of common beginning, and then it branches off depending on whether you prefer Sam or Dean. Just thought I’d try it out. Enjoy!

 “Weapons down, or I’m gonna shoot you to oblivion!” you yelled at the two men whose silhouettes were outlined in the doorway of the warehouse.

They put their weapons down only because of sheer surprise, and while they looked around to pinpoint the source of the voice that startled them, you had the time to study them.

 Sam

You made your way to them, frowning. “Who are you?” you asked, making sure that your gun was trained on the taller one of the two.

“We’re FBI agents and-” started the shorter and apparently older one, but he was cut off by the other.

“We’re not FBI agents,” he stated and, perplexed, you frowned.

“I’m confused. Are you with the FBI or not?” you asked.

“We aren’t,” said the taller one at the same time the shorter one said “We are.”

“Wow, that’s a really enlightening thing to say,” you commented. “Care to explain?”

“We aren’t with the FBI,” said the taller one and, this time, the other agreed with a nod.

“Then who are you? And what are you doing here?” you asked.

“I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean, and we’re here because we’ve been informed that some very dangerous people live in this warehouse. We’re here to prevent them from causing any harm,” he explained, and immediately you felt like you were a five-year-old being patronised by an annoying adult.

“The name’s Y/n. And what do you think I’ve been doing here? A party? I’ve been dealing with the vampires,” you said, and you smiled proudly at them.

“Are you sure you’ve dealt with them properly?” asked Dean.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course. I’ve beheaded them and then buried them so that nobody will ever come across the bodies. I’ve been here since yesterday, and I need some rest,” you said, walking past them and into the sunlight.

“You don’t have a car,” Sam called out from behind you. “There was no car outside the warehouse when we got here. So how did you make it here?” he asked.

“I walked. I crashed my car a week or so ago and I haven’t had the time to replace it. It’s waiting for me in a yard somewhere in Colorado,” you explained with a shrug. To tell the truth, your opinion on that matter was anything but nonchalant, as your car had been the only place you had ever called home, but being pessimistic just wouldn’t do. Instead, you had decided to use the public transport to make your way to Wyoming to deal with the vampire nest, because hunting would always be your priority.

“That’s unfortunate. Well, you can come with us. We’re heading to the nearest town,” Sam offered, completely missing his brother’s glare.

“Really? Thank you. I’ve got a motel room there, so I can rest before heading to Colorado to retrieve my car and all my hunting stuff,” you said with a grin, only then realising that this was the first mention of anything hunting-related between you and the Winchesters. You had just both automatically assumed that the other was a hunter.

That was certainly not the last time though. Over the years, you started hunting together. At first it was just a call here and there or a chance meeting when you accidentally took on the same cases, but as the months went by you grew closer. You even started living in the bunker with them when you weren’t joining them on cases.

Hunting with them had been the best time you had ever had in your whole life.

But all good things must end, and your time with the Winchesters was no different.

It was on a sunny but chilly day in mid-March that was entirely inconspicuous and normal that this good thing in your life ended.

“We’re back!” you heard Sam and Dean announce when they entered the bunker. They both seemed rather excited for the hunt to be over, and it pained your heart to see the smile wiped off their faces when they saw you.

You were standing near the entrance, clutching a suitcase in one hand and your car keys in the other. There was a vacant, sad, look in your eyes as you nodded at them.

“Hey,” you muttered sadly.

“What’s wrong?” Dean was the one to ask but Sam was the one to rush up to you and pull you into a hug. You let the suitcase drop and hugged him back tightly, fighting to keep back tears.

“I’m leaving,” you announced in a small voice.

“Leaving... what?” Sam asked.

“Leaving the bunker. Leaving the hunter life. I can’t do this anymore. I’m physically and mentally exhausted. I just want to see the world,” you muttered, casting your gaze down on the ground.

“No. You can’t leave,” Sam said, voice almost shrill in a note of panic.

“It’s... it’s not temporary. It’s just a break. For a couple of years, I’ve decided I want to travel and see everything the planet has to offer before returning,” you said, leaving the probably out of the conversation. You weren’t sure you ever would return. Part of you hoped so, while another just wanted to leave and never come back.

Sam, probably realising that no matter what he said he could never stop you from leaving, only hugged you tighter.

“Do you promise you’ll come back?” he asked.

“I do,” you said, and now that you had given your word you probably would.

“I love you,” Sam whispered in a broken voice. “Don’t leave,” he murmured hopelessly.

Unable to listen to him anymore, you pulled away slightly from his hug and pulled him into a kiss. You touched your lips to his hesitantly at first but with increasingly more passion until you both had to pull away for need of air.

“I love you too. But I have to go. I’ll be back,” without further ado, you nodded at Dean, reached down to grab your suitcase and left, paying no heed to the tears rolling down your cheeks.

You turned to look at the bunker one last time.

“Goodbye, Sam Winchester. And may we meet again.”

 Dean

One was tall, with long hair, but it was the other who caught your attention. Shorter than the other man but still tall, something about his posture and the way he carried himself drew you in. So when you stepped out into the meagre light the rays of the sun peeking in through the door offered, you addressed him.

“Who are you and what do you want here?” you asked him, and he frowned as his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness of the room.

“I’m Agent Bickler and this is my partner Agent Sullivan. We’re with the FBI,” he said, making eye contact with you. Never tearing his gaze away from yours, he took a badge out of his pocket and let it drop to the ground. He kicked it towards you and you kneeled to pick it up, eyes and gun firmly fixed on the man who had told you was an FBI agent.

“I don’t think so. These badges aren’t real, and even if they were, what would an FBI agent be doing out here, in a warehouse in the middle of nowhere?” you asked, raising a challenging eyebrow at the light-brown-haired man.

He rolled his eyes and was about to reply when the other man talked, drawing your attention.

“You’re right. We’re not FBI agents. We’re here because some very dangerous people are in this warehouse and we want to make sure nobody innocent will get hurt. So could you please leave? It’d be much better for all of us if you didn’t get killed in the process,” he said, and for a second you contemplated pretending not to understand, pretending to be a civilian.

You decided against that though, as it would only offer confusion and maybe these two hunters -they were obviously hunters, you thought- would be so desperate as to use force to extract you from the warehouse that had been a vampire nest before you had dealt with it.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you two are hunters. That is quite obvious from you pretending to be FBI. And you must be here for the vampires,” you said, and saw realisation dawn in both their faces as they figured out the fact that you were a hunter too.

“Well... I’ve taken care of that problem; don’t worry. All the vampires are dead and buried,” you told them with a bright smile, finally lowering and holstering your gun.

“You’re a hunter?” asked the one you had been talking to in the beginning. His question was more of a statement, you realised as your gazes met again, though he obviously doubted your abilities.

“Yes, I am. I’ve been a hunter for the biggest part of my life, so there’s no need for you to check to see if the vampires are truly dead and gone. But if you want to waste precious minutes of your time, go ahead and be my guest,” you said.

“That won’t be necessary. We believe you,” said the taller one.

“I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean,” he introduced.

“Wait... Sam and Dean Winchester?” you asked with a frown. “I’m Y/n L/n. I’m, as I said, a hunter. My grandfather taught me everything I know about hunting, and he was the strictest of teachers. He never said the same thing more than once. The only thing he had ever repeated was this ‘Don’t trust the Winchesters.’ Why should I trust you?” you crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at the two men standing in front of you.

“Because we’re hunters. And hunters stick together. We’re each other’s best chance of staying alive,” Dean said, and you had to admit he had a point. Hunting on your own was an extremely lonely thing to do, and you craved some real interaction despite your better judgment.

“Let’s go then. I have a room at the motel just outside town,” you informed them, walking past them and into the glare of the sun outside the warehouse.

“Our room is there too,” Sam told you as they followed you.

“Great. See you there,” you said, climbing into your car and setting off towards the motel.

Little did you know then, that encounter with the Winchester brothers meant the end of your lonely hunting years and the beginning of a new phase in your life, which you loved more than anything else that had ever happened to you. Soon, you became very familiar with the brothers, but you had always felt more comfortable around Dean. You loved them both, but Sam was just a friend, while Dean... well it was different with Dean. It had always been different with Dean, but it took you some time to understand just how different things were.

“Where’s the pie, Y/n?” you heard Dean call out as soon as you entered the bunker’s kitchen.

“Right here, Dean. How could I ever forget the pie?” you asked, handing him his pie. He looked pointedly at Sam after what you said and accepted the pie.

“Thank you,” he said with a grin before grabbing a fork from a drawer and starting to eat.

“You’re welcome,” you said with a chuckle. “I don’t get why you like pie that much though,” you commented, and Dean sent a murderous glare your way. “Don’t listen to her, you’re precious to me,” he muttered to his pie while glaring at you.

Both you and Sam laughed and shared an exasperated look.

“At least Y/n never forgets the pie,” Dean said, again looking at his brother.  “And for that I thank her very much,” he said, turning to face you. Already, he was done with the pie, and he set the foil plate and the fork down on the table, walking up to you. He leaned down and in one swift, sudden, moment, had his lips pressed against yours; soft and warm as he pulled you into a roller coaster of a kiss that made your heart beat fast and heat to rise to your cheeks. Dean tasted of pie and in that moment you understood why he liked it so much.

You broke apart after Sam cleared his throat. Dean glared at him. “What?” he asked.

“Get a room,” Sam said.

“We have one, but you’re in it,” Dean said moodily and Sam, obviously not in the mood for a fight, sighed and walked out of the room.

“What was that for?” you asked once Sam was gone.

“It was for the pie. And I’ve wanted to do it for a long, long time.”

Ready Aim Fire

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Word Count: 1020

Summary: Dean shows Y/n how to shoot a gun.

A/N: Happy birthday to Dean Winchester! May he have all the pies he wants.

gif not mine, credit to whoever owns it.

“You say you want to be a hunter, princess, but do you even know how to shoot a gun?” Dean asked, making eye contact with you. You, stubborn as ever, rolled your eyes and crossed your arms on your chest. “No, I don’t. But nobody was born knowing how. Somebody had to teach them. Somebody even had to teach you. So, why can’t you show me how to shoot a gun? I might surprise you,” you said, voice challenging.

He held your gaze for a long minute, apparently trying to decide whether to try to teach you how to shoot or not. In the end, you won, and he nodded.

“Very well. I’ll show you,” he said begrudgingly, pushing himself off the doorframe, which he had been leaning against.

“The shooting range is this way, follow me,” he muttered, walking out of the kitchen and heading to the shooting range.

“Here we are,” he announced, pushing the door open. He turned the lights on and they flickered into life, illuminating the distant targets on paper and the grey concrete walls.

“Our goal for today is to make sure your stance is proper and that you can hit the target. Proper stance will soon be forgotten in an actual fight, but we want you to improve on your aim right now,” he explained irritably, trying not to lose his patience.

“And I ought to warn you now, before it’s too late; being a hunter isn’t a field trip. It’s dangerous. It could cost you your life, the life of the people you care about. The reward is only emotional, and the recognition is nonexistent. You have the chance to turn away now. You have the chance to live a normal life, free of worry about ghosts and demons and angels. If you walk away right now, this whole thing will be just a distant memory,” here, Dean turned to face you. His expression was grave and serious. “If you walk away right now, you can have a family and friends.”

You looked up at him defiantly. “I’ve been living a normal life all my life, and I’m bored out of my wits. That’s not what I want for myself. Now, teach me how to shoot a damn gun,” you said and, with a sigh, Dean took his gun out of its holster.

“Watch closely,” he instructed, “You’ll have to copy my movements when it’s your turn, so pay attention. Your feet have to be shoulder width apart and slightly bent, and your arms have to be fully extended,” he said, reciting the information from memory. He himself adopted the stance and squared his shoulders. He cocked the gun, pressed the trigger and a bullet flew straight through the head of one of the silhouettes on the targets.

Dean then turned to look at you, carefully handing you the gun.

You nervously walked up to where he had been standing and tried your best to replicate his picture-perfect stance. You took aim as best as you could and squeezed the trigger. The bullet barely managed to hit the very edge of the paper target. To your surprise, Dean had a look on his face that said ‘not bad’.

You turned back towards the target to examine your shot, which really wasn’t all that bad. “Quite good,” Dean’s voice said from directly behind you, his breath tickling the back of your neck, and you gave a tiny squeak in surprise. You hadn’t realised he had walked up to be standing where he was now. You heard him give a low chuckle at your reaction, and that small sound sent shivers down your spine. Admittedly, Dean Winchester was a very attractive man, and standing as you were at that moment, with his toned chest almost pressing against your back, awoke a fire deep in your belly.

“You still need to work on your stance a little bit,” he said, his hands ghosting touches on your arms and lower back and waist as he gently guided you into the proper position. When he was satisfied, he instructed you to extend your arms in front of you, and you did as asked. From behind you, he mirrored your movements and extended his arms as well, to correct your grip on the gun.

“Now, shoot,” he muttered in his deep voice, and you aimed carefully before pressing the trigger. This time, you managed to hit the outer rim of the target’s body, and you grinned in success, turning to face Dean. Having forgotten about your proximity, you uttered a small ‘oh’ when you found yourself chest-to-chest with the hunter. He grinned down at you and carefully took the gun from your grip, putting the safety back on and tucking it back into its holster.

“You could be a good hunter,” he commented casually, before leaning down closer to you to cover some of the distance between you. “Providing you’d stick to hunting with us, I can make you into one of the best hunters ever,” he said, but you weren’t paying attention to his words; only his lips. Your eyes were locked on them and you felt as if you were in a trance. Apparently, he’d noticed, because he brought his hand up to your chin, softly nudging it up so that your gaze met his.

Dean leaned down, you stretched up, and your lips met in a wonderful, mesmerising kiss that set your nerve edges on fire. He deepened the kiss by tilting his head and opening his mouth just wide enough so that his tongue could lick your lips and enter your own mouth. At that, you gave a small moan and snaked your arms around his neck for stability. The kiss went on like that for quite some time until you both pulled apart, panting, but very happy.

“So, what do you say? D’you really wanna become a hunter?” Dean murmured in a voice that was huskier than normal. You nodded.

“Oh hell yes,” you whispered in reply, and leaned up to kiss him again; the second time just as magical as the first.

Possessed

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Word Count: 940

Summary: Sam is possessed by a demon, and you try your best to help him.

Warnings: Some curse words.

A/N: I hope you like it!~

You glared at Sam -no, not Sam, the demon, you had to remind yourself- who had been tricked into walking into a demon trap. The tall hunter’s shirt was soaked through with blood where his anti-possession tattoo had been mutilated with a knife, and a smirk of superiority so unlike Sam’s usual warm smile was plastered on his face.  

“What do you have to say for yourself, sweetheart? Because it’s getting really boring here, don’t you think?” said the demon trough Sam’s voice. Wrapping your mind around the fact that Sam’s usually gentle and friendly voice could hold so much scorn had taken some time, but now, after spending about an hour with the demon inhabiting your friend’s body, you could listen to him talk without flinching and being overcome by a murderous urge.

“I want my best friend back, you bastard,” you growled, moving closer to the mark on the floor and pointing Ruby’s demon-killing knife, which the Winchesters had lent to you before the mission, at the demon.

The demon laughed. It was more of a manic, wicked, cackle than a laugh, and then it looked at you through Sam’s hazel eyes with disdain.

“Oh, you’d never lay a finger on your handsome friend’s body over here,” said the demon, dropping you a wink. “Plus, if you want me gone so much, you can go on and exorcise me. You know the words, sweetheart, don’t you?” the demon added, assuming a deep, husky, provocative tone of voice as he spoke.

Never losing eye contact with you, the demon made Sam’s hands run all over his broad chest, unbuttoning a few buttons of his red plaid shirt as it did so, putting Sam’s chest on display.

Trying to suppress the feeling of giddiness that came over you when you saw the hunter’s bare chest, you mustered all your hatred towards the demon in one heated glare, which made you narrow your eyes and grit your teeth as you tried not to stare at Sam’s chest.

“Oh, I can exorcise you. But I need information first. About Crowley’s whereabouts. Tell me. Where is he?” you asked, gathering all of your self-control and willpower to make your voice sound nonchalant as you spoke. Your gaze, while still full of hatred, held authority, and your posture -seemingly relaxed, but actually tense and ready to attack should the need arise- exuded superiority. To accentuate the fact that you weren’t bluffing -which you actually were, because you’d never touch a blade to Sam’s skin- you ran a casual finger along the serrated blade of the demon-killing knife, smirking.

The demon caught the bluff though, and gave another one of its expected hysterical cackles. “You’re not gonna hurt this body. I can see it in the way you’re trying too much not to stare at his chest; in the way you’re stalling for time and trying to trick me. But honey, I’m a demon. I can’t be lied to. The thing is, you’re so painfully in love with the man I’m possessing that it’s so obvious it hurts. So obvious to everybody but you two. So no, you’re not hurting Sammy over here, so I’m-” You were so angry you saw red. You raised your voice over the demon’s, cutting it off mid-sentence, and spewed out an exorcism, not caring that in doing so you were completely neglecting your actual goal.

With a howl of pain, the demon left Sam’s body and you hurried up to him as he collapsed to the ground, kneeling next to him and helping him sit up.

“Sam... are you okay?” you asked him, and he stifled a groan, but nodded.

“I’m fine...” he managed to say. “But... we were supposed to gather information about Crowley,” he said. On impulse, you gripped his face between your hands and looked him square in the eye. You could lose yourself in his hazel, ever-changing, eyes. Depending on the lighting, they could seem green, or blue, or brown, and you could spend hours thinking about them, but right now you had to focus.

“I don’t care about that, Sam. You are so much more important to me than any piece of information that demon could have given us,” you said.

He frowned and stayed silent for a bit. Neither of you moved an inch, and you could feel his breath hot against your face.

“Is what the demon said true?” he said, finally breaking the silence. “Do you... Are you in love with me?” he asked cautiously.

You were taken aback by his question. You had expected something along the lines of ‘let’s go find Dean’ or ‘it’s okay that you didn’t get information from the demon about Crowley, but we have to figure out what to do next’, so you were surprised. So surprised that you blurted out your response without thinking.

“Yes,” you said, and his eyes widened imperceptibly in surprise.

His face broke out into a grin that held so much happiness it made you smile as well. “That’s excellent. Because... because so do I,” he said, his voice trailing off in a whisper as he leaned in closer to you.

Your lips met hesitantly at first but then, as you both were drawn closer to each other like moths towards the light, it was magic. He was a great kisser, and he elicited small sounds from you as he nipped and sucked on your lower lip. Your lips tingled where they met his, and you had never felt better.

And, as you pulled away, you smiled, because you had not only gotten a friend back, but a lover too.

Give Me A Kiss

Pairing: Castiel x reader

Word Count: 777

Summary: Cas asks for a kiss. Just fluff without a basic plot, I guess~

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: Enjoy!

“Kiss me,” a deep, throaty voice said suddenly, drawing you out of your thoughts.

Confused, you turned to face the source of the voice. Castiel was sitting on the couch next to you, his amazingly deep blue eyes staring at you, intimidating you in a weird kind of way that stirred good feelings deep in your stomach.

“Ex-excuse me?” you stammered, furrowing your brows in confusion.

“Kiss me,” he repeated in that same tone of voice as before; deep enough to send shivers running down your spine.

And you didn’t know if it was the way he said it, the way he was looking at you or something else entirely that actually made you do it.

You leaned closer and pressed your lips to his chapped-but-soft ones, and he pressed back.

And it wasn’t just an innocent peck; but a deep kiss that took you to Heaven and brought you back again. Cas’s touch was curious, experimental, but there was something in the way he kissed you -something imperceptible but undeniably there- that made you think there was more to this than just the curiosity of an angel.

Eventually, you pulled away, panting, and he rested his forehead against yours, staring deep into your soul with his piercing blue eyes.

“That was good,” he said matter-of-factly, and that reminded you of how sudden the kiss had been to begin with.

“Cas,” you started, fully intending to continue your sentence but unable to find the suitable words. Or, in fact, any words at all. You couldn’t think of anything other than the kiss and why he had kissed you.

Cas probably noticed the shift in your demeanour towards confusion, and he frowned slightly, but his lips spread out into a smile.

And he leaned closer to you, kissing you again, drawing you into a kiss reminiscent of the one before, only more passionate, more needy, that left you panting and moaning. His movements were hesitant as he placed his hands at your waist to pull you closer towards him. He was even more hesitant with the kiss, trying to find the correct angle and the best way to use his lips and tongue to respond to your more than eager kiss.

You pulled away before you could get too immersed into the kiss and forget about the question you wanted to ask him.

“Why?” you managed to utter, struggling to catch your breath and compose yourself.

“Why what? Why did I kiss you?” he asked, his voice surprisingly and impossibly calm, coming sharp in contrast with your breathy gasps. You could only nod in reply to his question.

“Well...” Cas started to speak, and he still remained as unruffled as ever. “I was curious. I just wanted to try it,” he said with a shrug.

You hadn’t expected his answer to be this, and it made a lump rise to your throat and an uncomfortable feeling to settle in the pit of your stomach. You pulled slightly away, feeling a tad bit used but willing to overlook it, and the displeasure must have shown in your eyes because Cas’s calm façade broke and a frown clouded his expression.

“Did I do something wrong? Was there a problem with what I did?” he asked, uncertain and naïve and very much insecure.

“No, Cas, there isn’t a problem. Really. I understand,” you muttered, even though a part of you had hoped for -wanted, needed- more. More than just two kisses that had come to exist only because, apparently, your angel friend was bored and curious.

“There is a problem,” he insisted, and you sighed in annoyance.

“Okay, Cas, yes, there is. You can’t just kiss me like that and expect to get out of it with a simple ‘I was curious’. That was more than just curiosity,” you said, and his eyes widened.

“Uh... Y/N... it’s... what if I told you it’s not just curiosity?” he asked hypothetically, uncertain of himself.

The churning feeling in your stomach calmed, and there was a pleasant fluttering of hope and... something more.

“What was it then?” you asked, and he swallowed hard before replying.

“It was like. I like you, and I wanted to kiss you,” he admitted shyly, cutely, hesitantly, and he appeared surprised when a smile appeared on your face.

“Don’t worry, Cas... I like you too,” you muttered, and leaned in closer to him, kissing him with everything you had. Soon, he was on his back on the couch and you were on top of him, kissing and sucking his lips.

“I’m glad you asked,” you muttered in-between kisses, and he groaned slightly before replying.

“I’m really glad I did.”  

Together At Last

Pairing: Sam x reader

Word Count: 923

Summary: Sam and the reader were best friends in high school. What happens when, years later, they stumble across each other on a hunt?

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I hope you like it!~

You’d known Sam for a long time. You’d met him at school during your last year there, and he quickly became your best friend. All too soon for you, he and his family had left the small town you and your mother were living in during that time period.

You made sure to keep in touch with him. His phone number changed constantly, as did yours, but you’d always stayed in contact.

It was really strange when, recently, he didn’t respond to your calls, e-mails or texts. Two years now, you hadn’t gotten a single word from Sam Winchester, a signal that he was alive and still thinking of you.

‘Maybe,’ you thought as you packed your hunting things in a backpack and slung it over your shoulder, ‘Maybe he’s not thinking of me. Or maybe he’s not alive,’ you sighed at your depressing train of thought and cursed yourself for thinking so much about him even now, two years after you’d had your last contact with Sam and so many years after you’d last seen him.

Cursing yourself under your breath, you shook your head to clear it and headed towards your destination: an abandoned house where ghost sightings had been reported. Armed with rock salt, a pack of matches and a lot of other weapons that would be useless against a ghost but made you feel safer; you made your way up to the house.

You had just closed the door behind you and switched your torch on when you heard a gun being cocked and the bright beam from another person’s torch was in your eyes.

But then the beam was lowered and, in the meagre light it and your own flashlight created, you could barely make out the characteristics of a tall, broad-shouldered man that reminded you too much of...

“Sam?” you choked out in surprise, wondering what the hell he could be doing here.

He didn’t speak. He just flung some water at you from a small bottle held in his hand, and he frowned when the results were negative.

“I’m not a fucking demon,” you hissed at him and drew a silver knife from your belt, slicing a cut across your palm. “And I’m not a shapeshifter either.”

“You can’t be Y/N,” he stated with certainty.

“I can’t? Why’s that, Sam?” you asked, and his frown deepened. “Because Y/N isn’t a hunter. I would’ve known.”

“I am a hunter. And of course you wouldn’t have known -I hadn’t realised you’re a hunter either,” you said in your defence.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this? We’ve talked so many times,” he said, and you rolled your eyes. “I didn’t know you’re a hunter as well, so I couldn’t exactly call you one day and tell you that I’ve been hunting monsters ever since I could walk. Most people don’t even know that monsters exist,” you replied, locking eyes with his.

Even in the too little white light that the torches’ beams cast, his eyes were the same hazel you remembered, his smile -though small right now- was instantly recognisable as Sam.

“You’re so tall now,” you muttered suddenly, and he chuckled. “You’re still beautiful,” he said, and you could have sworn that a small blush coloured his cheeks as he said that, but the lighting was so bad that you weren’t sure.

Unexpectedly, you ran up to him and threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you,” you said, a grin on your face that could rival the sun in brightness.

“I’ve missed you too. So much,” he muttered.

“Why did you stop replying to my messages and calls?” you asked him, pulling far enough away so you could look at him, but not so far that you would have to take your arms off from around him.

“I wanted to keep you safe. Away from the life of a hunter. I thought that the best way to do that would be to sever all contact with you. It hurt, because you were my best friend, and I...” here, Sam trailed off, and you waited for him to pick up the threads of his sentence, but he never did.

“I wasn’t your best friend, Sam. I still am, if you want to, if you need me. I sure as hell need you,” you muttered, and were elated to see a smile take over the frown that had clouded his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually, “But I...” he hesitated again before taking a deep breath, “I’ve always liked you. More than just friends. Perhaps more than like. It’s as if... I’ve been in love with you all my life, from the moment I met you onwards,” he confessed awkwardly, his voice low in a murmur, and you blushed.

You didn’t respond. Words weren’t really your thing; but actions were. So you stood on your tiptoes, put your arms around Sam’s neck and pressed your lips to his, pulling him into a kiss that held frustration, longing and so many bottled-up feelings. The feel of his tongue against your lips, in your mouth, toying and fighting with your own made your skin tingle and your brain shut down as you gave into the sensations, savouring every single moment.

“Two hunters in love. It’s risky,” you muttered when you pulled away.

“It’s not just risky. It’s mortally perilous,” he responded breathily, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

You giggled as he leaned down to kiss you again.

“And I love it.”

Despair

Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Word Count: 1,235

Summary: The Apocalypse is approaching and Gabriel visits you. 

Warnings: Spoilers for season five, feels.

A/N: I’d planned on writing something cute, not this. Anyway, enjoy!

You’d known Gabriel for a long time. You’d met him while you were on a crazy hunt -caused by him, of course- which turned out to be the maddest hunt you’d ever been on. He’d transported you to a world much like the one depicted in Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and had shown up, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, a couple of days and countless agonising deaths later. At first, you hadn’t liked him. And you’d liked him even less when, as his parting words, he’d chosen to reference Alice in Wonderland again and wink, saying ‘Eat me’ in a tone of voice heavily laden with innuendo.

No, you hadn’t liked him then. But you’d stumbled across him -or, rather, he’d found you- numerous times after that. And slowly, bit by bit, you got to know him better. You got to see behind his confident, flirty exterior and you started liking him more.

It had been a long time since you had last seen him and, with rumours about the oncoming Apocalypse passing from one hunter’s mouth to the other’s, you always had to remain on your toes; ever vigilant and watchful as you tried to distinguish truth from lie.

It came as a surprise to you when, one day, Gabriel just showed up at the door of your motel room. You had no ongoing case, nothing that could justify his sudden appearance. And yet there he was, flirty smile on his face as he swallowed the last of his candy bar.

“Hello, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ve missed me so terribly much. I definitely have missed you,” he said cheerfully, smiling a grin that brought you back to the first smile he had ever given you; that broad, wonderful grin that seemed more devious and teasing than a genuine smile. Only, this time, he embraced you briefly, showing you exactly how much he actually had missed you.

He then proceeded to push past you and make his way to the bed, where he sat down and continued eating his sweets. For a while, you just stared at each other, your gaze meeting his brown one questioningly.

“What are you doing here?” you said eventually, breaking the perpetual silence of the room. While you were glad to have him there, as you actually had missed him and you liked him a bit too much, his appearance was sudden.

“I’m here to see you. And I brought food,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, as if that explained everything. You raised your own eyebrows incredulously.

“Don’t you have chaos to create somewhere else?” You asked him. “Or have the recent goings-on affected you as well?” You added, kind of jokingly, because you were quite certain that a trickster like Gabe wouldn’t really heed the far-fetched rumours about the Apocalypse.

But his face fell at the mention of that, and he cast his eyes downward. For a moment, he looked broken, torn apart, scared, and then he was okay again, smiling and looking up as if nothing had happened.

“Well, everybody who knows about what’s going on should be concerned. The destruction of the world as we know it could be imminent,” Gabriel said gravely, but his eyes never lost their cheerful glint. “So, you know what we can do to make sure we’re prepared?” he said in a secretive, conspiratorial, tone of voice.

“What?” you asked.

He dropped you a wink. “Sex and food. Lots and lots of sex and eating food to make up for every second in our life that we haven’t been doing one or the other,” he said simply and his tone of voice was so serious that you felt like the laugh you choked out was out of place.

“Gabe. You can’t be telling me that what everyone’s been saying is true. I’m sure it’s just a false alarm,” you said with a shrug.

Gabriel’s serious look returned again then, and he frowned, staring at the long-forgotten and only half-eaten chocolate bar in his hand.

“It’s true,” he said with a sigh.

“How… how do you know?” you asked, somehow believing him. You sat down on the bed next to him and nervously tapped a rhythm with your fingers on your leg.

His hand reached over to cover yours and stop the nervous drumming. At that, you lifted your gaze to meet his, and any doubt you might have had about this whole situation vanished at the pained, fearful look that was still in his eyes.

Everything went downhill from there. Despair fought with fear and chaos tangled with misery to create the perfect cacophony of discord.

“Y/n… I’m not just a trickster. The name Gabriel isn’t just a name. I’m the Gabriel; the archangel Gabriel. And I know that this is really happening; I know that almost all the required seals to start the Apocalypse are broken. There is no escaping this,” he said, his voice pained as his grip on your hand tightened and the desperation in his eyes intensified.

“I don’t know if I’m going to live to see another day. None of us can know. Lucifer could rise tomorrow,” he said, a note of fear in his voice as he spoke.

“Nobody ever knows what life will bring,” you whispered back, unable to do much else other than stare into his eyes. You felt helpless now that you knew that the world was gradually falling apart. Helpless, and drowning; drowning in the world and in his eyes that looked like chocolate and caramel and Gabe.

He leaned forward to brush a tear you hadn’t even realised was falling off your cheek with his thumb, and he didn’t pull away. He was close enough that you could feel his breath -that smelt pleasantly of chocolate and caramel- against your cheeks and lips.

“It’ll be okay,” you muttered under your breath, trying to reassure both yourself and Gabriel with your words. He gave a solemn nod in response. “We can only wait and see,” he replied, and it was your turn to nod.

“Gabriel…” You said helplessly after a while of silence, uttering his name just because you liked the feel of his name rolling off your tongue.

“Y/n,” he was quick to reply, and that was enough to give you the required courage to close the distance between your lips.

The kiss didn’t go as an expected first kiss would. No sparks flew around you; no butterflies fluttered in your stomach and nothing about it was tender and sweet -apart from, perhaps, the lingering taste of sugar and chocolate of his mouth.

It was frantic and anxious and was punctuated by breathy moans and desperate tugging at clothes. It was the kind of kiss that doesn’t satisfy you but only leaves you wanting more and more and oh so much more.

“I love you,” you heard yourself mutter at some point, because now was no time to worry about it being too soon, it was the time to worry about having been too late to say or do something.

Gabriel tugged on your shirt urgently and whispered ‘me too’.

The urgency never left, not even when you lay side by side under the sheets in the bed the following morning, or when you said goodbye three days later.

You never saw him again. That day, a part of you broke. And you somehow knew you’d never get it back.

Join Me

Pairing: Lucifer x reader

Word Count: 1,074

Summary: The reader wants to confront Lucifer, but ends up giving into her darkest desires…

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Hope it’s okay!

Your palms, clutching the gun tightly, were sweating and your hands were shaking visibly. If your hunting partners were there, they would have been sure to tease you about that, as you took pride in your steady hand and perfect aim.

But they weren’t even alive anymore, and all because of the man -archangel, demon, whatever- standing there in front of you with his back turned to you; vulnerable and bare. Nobody had seen him kill them, but word was he had sent his demons to do the dirty job.

Still, it was his fault, his fault, his fault.

Your whole body was shaking with anger and fear, and the adrenaline was pumping through your blood, making your skin buzz and tingle. Every slight movement felt weird, as if you weren’t fully in control of your body and you were feeling someone else control it.

You were so angry, so livid and full of rage, that while you knew your simple bullets would do nothing to harm Lucifer himself, you had to try. Your life held no meaning anyway without your friends and hunting partners, and you’d get your revenge if it was the last thing you did.

Suddenly, the stability in your arms returned and you were able to carefully aim at Lucifer’s back and fire.

The bullet cut right through Lucifer’s vessel’s body, and a spray of blood coloured his shirt crimson, but his face held an amused expression as he turned to face you.

He shook his head and pursed his lips in disappointment, and you felt like a scolded child. Not knowing what else to do, you fired again at him as he approached you, but not so much as a wince of pain crossed his face.

When he was actually close enough so you could feel the heat his body emanated, he smirked cruelly and with a simple twist of his wrist you were pinned against the wall behind you.

“You’ve been a reaaaaaally naughty girl, Y/n,” Lucifer said, shaking his head again and making your blood boil with anger. You were surprised by how human he actually sounded, how real and tangible and not supernatural at all.

You struggled against your invisible bonds, trying to form words so you could respond to him, but you were unable to.

“I can’t decide if you want to ask me how I know who you are or if you just want to tell me to ‘go to hell’,” he grinned, chuckling at his own joke, as you once again found yourself surprised, almost mesmerised by his voice.

Again, you tried to speak, only this time you found yourself able to actually form words.

“Both,” you croaked out, upper lip curling in a sneer of hatred.

Lucifer cast you another disappointed look, and part of you actually felt chastised by it. He was menacing, and imposing, and it felt as if he could make everyone in a room feel inferior just by breathing.

“I know your name because you are a very capable hunter indeed, and I have been keeping a close eye on you,” he said, smirking.

“So close an eye that you killed my best friends?” you spat out in fury.

“I had to do what had to be done to gain a follower, my dear,” Lucifer replied with a shrug.

“Oh, and did you get that follower? Were they worth it?” you almost screamed at him.

He smirked enigmatically. “I don’t know yet. That is up to you.”

Your heart beat faster as you came to a realisation. Lucifer wanted to recruit you.

“You bastard. Why would I ever join you?” you sneered.

“You are capable. You are inconspicuous. You are smart, and talented, and you are just like me. You are a shining star now, your parents’ favourite and your friends’ beloved, but I can see the strain in your eyes. You don’t want this life of a prodigy because your ideals are different. Act upon them; join me, and the world will be at our feet. It will be ours to do with as we wish; ours to create and to destroy,” he said, and you were embarrassed by how close to home his words had actually hit. You had always hated how the hunter’s life had just been thrust upon you without anybody asking you first, and what you had hated even more was the fact that you were amazing at being a hunter.

“We’re different,” you said, grasping at straws. He could see in your eyes that his words rang true, that what he had said had affected you in more ways than you cared to admit.

“Everyone’s different,” he scoffed. “But you and I… not so much. The only difference I can see is that your Hell is right here. You are living it every moment, breathing it in and exhaling it with every breath. And you know it. You can feel it. Yet… you deny it. We want the same things. Accept it,” he said, calmly striding closer to you; so close that you could almost feel his breath on your face.

You held his blue gaze for a long while, neither looking away.

“I am not like you,” you insisted.

Lucifer just gave a cold, low, laugh and leaned even closer to you, touching his lips to yours.

What you realised first was that you were no longer bound by his invisible spell. He was actually giving you the option to decide here.

That took you by surprise, but what astonished you even more was the fact that you were responding positively to his increasingly rough kiss. He was kissing and licking and sucking and biting and, when he met no resistance, he pushed you against the wall and trapped you between it and his body.

“What is your answer?” he asked, voice low in a growl as he pulled away from the kiss that had left you breathless and yet wanting -needing- more.

“Yes,” you said breathily.

You didn’t know why you replied with what you did. The only sure thing was that no demon was possessing you because your anti-possession tattoo was still whole and unharmed.

The prospect of the world being yours was seductive, and you couldn’t say no now that you had the way to make it reality.

Lucifer smirked. “Welcome, my queen,” he muttered and leaned closer to capture your lips in another desperate, needy, kiss.

Not That Bad

Pairing: Chuck Shurley x reader

Word Count: 1001

Summary: The reader is dragged along by a friend to a Supernatural convention, where she meets Chuck who turns out to be the writer of the Supernatural books which she had never bothered to read.

A/N: I suck at summaries. Anyway, I hope you like it! ^_^

You really didn’t want to be there. You had spent two hours smiling at your friend as she tugged you along to talk to other people who were cosplaying and chatting animatedly amongst themselves about demons and ghosts and angels and monsters born from lore and mythology.

You were just bored. You had seen so many Deans and Sams and Castiels and Lucifers to last you a lifetime, and you swore that you never would follow your friend to another ‘Supernatural’ convention. In your opinion, everybody there was crazy and obsessed with books that lacked common sense, and while you hadn’t read them, you didn’t really want to. If there was a chance in a hundred for you to read them before coming to the convention, now it was a chance in a million, if that.

You had finally managed to convince your friend to leave you alone; leaning against the wall with a bottle of water clutched in your hand that you liked to pretend was alcohol that could drown your sorrows.

You heaved a sigh just as you saw someone relax against the same wall as you, clutching a bottle of water and drinking nervously.

You turned around and studied him subtly. He was short, with unruly dark hair and the beginnings of a beard on his cheeks. His eyes were blue, the most clear and beautiful blue you had ever seen, and as you faced him completely with a small smile, you remembered thinking that he was not bad at all.

“Do you not want to be here either?” you asked him, chuckling softly.

He took a swig from his bottle of water and nodded. “Y-yeah,” he replied in a tremulous voice. “I would really rather be anywhere than here” he admitted, shoulders slumping. Upon closer inspection, he didn’t just look bored like you, but he looked nervous, almost scared.

You chuckled softly in response. “Tell me about it. I was dragged here by my best friend, who’s a die-hard fan of Supernatural, but I haven’t read the books myself. And to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I want to, either. They’re just not for me,” you said.

The man just chuckled before raising his bottle of water to his lips again and drinking some more.

“I understand,” he said simply.

“I’m Y/n L/n,” you introduced yourself suddenly, after a moment of silence, smiling as you offered him his hand. He shook it.

“Chuck. Chuck Shurley,” he said, himself smiling slightly.

You spent the best part of the next hour just talking with Chuck, getting to know him as he got to know you. It was pleasant, surprisingly so, and it was something you had never thought you’d find at a convention. It was an hour later that he said he had to go, and before leaving he scribbled down his number on a napkin, smiling softly as he did.

“I never expected to find such good company here,” you admitted as you pocketed the napkin with what you could only hope was a flirty smile on your lips.

“Same here. I’m feeling much better now than I was before,” he said, referencing his previous nervousness.

“So... I’ve got to go. But I had a lot of fun,” he said, and when he walked away both of you were smiling goofily.

Five minutes later, your friend came to grab your hand and lead you excitedly to the room where the meet-and-greet with Carver Edlund, the author, would be held.

You filed into the room, your mind overtaken by thoughts of Chuck as you stood up in the back of the room.

Soon, every conversation had died down as all the fans of ‘Supernatural’ present were looking up at the stage expectantly, as if waiting for the Messiah to walk out and deliver a speech. And walk out he did, but he was definitely not who you had been expecting to see.

It was a man, short and nearly shivering with nerves, clutching a bottle of water tightly in his hand. The same man you had been talking to a few minutes ago, Chuck Shurley, was standing on stage answering the questions of the fans.

Immediately, you felt guilty. You had complained a lot about the books to him and how boring you found whatever your friend had told you about them and all this time, unbeknownst to you, he had been the author of the books. You buried your face in your hands and willed yourself to disappear, but you could see his gaze on you whenever you looked up.

As soon as the Q&A was over you bolted from the room without even so much as a glance at your confused friend, but you weren’t lucky enough as you bumped into someone.

In fact, you were very unlucky indeed as that someone was Chuck himself. Or Carver. You didn’t know.

“Hi,” you said lamely as he looked at you apologetically.

“I saw you in there,” he said as if he hadn’t been expecting you to be in the room.

“Look, Chuck -or is it Carver?- I thought we had something going on, I mean, not something, obviously, but I think I kinda like you, and after all I said before I know it’s probably naïve of me to stay,” you said, trying to make up an excuse and leave.

“It’s Chuck,” he said softly, grabbing one of your wildly gesturing hands and holding it gently between both of his.

“I like you too,” Chuck said in all seriousness, “And I didn’t take what you said about my books at heart. You haven’t read them to have an actual opinion of your own,” he said as he leaned down closer to you. He was obviously nervous once again, and it was up to you to close the gap between your lips and pull him into a gentle and sweet kiss that only left you wanting more.

It turned out that conventions weren’t that bad after all.

Research

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Word Count: 701

Summary: Sam and the reader are doing research, and Dean plays matchmaker.

Warnings: N/A

A/N: Happy birthday to our one and only Sam Winchester, who turns 33 today <3

“It’s just another haunting,” you announced as you relaxed against the back of the couch. You were sitting cross-legged with your laptop on your lap, leaning heavily against Sam’s shoulder. Sam was sitting next to you and you had taken it upon yourself to make him into a gigantic human pillow. You yawned and turned to stifle it in the flannel material of Sam’s red plaid shirt, and then you reached out and rubbed your eyes.

“I’ve been sitting here for nearly five hours, I’m beat,” you said, resting your head on Sam’s shoulder.

“You did a great job though,” Sam said. The praise got to you and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. You averted your gaze from the laptop screen, on which it was still fixed, and by pure luck it met Dean’s from across the room. Dean was sitting on a chair near the table, eating his pie and taking a break from the endless hours of research, but he was looking at you and Sam with a bright, teasing, spark in his eyes.

“Yeah, she did great, didn’t she, Sammy?” Dean asked his brother with a small smirk. You found the whole situation weird as Sam had been the first to congratulate you on a job well done.

Had you been looking up, you would have seen a blush colour Sam’s cheeks as he chanced a glance at you before glaring at his brother, a scowl on his features.

“Yes,” he grumbled, returning to his laptop and his own extra research.

It was half an hour later that you got up to stretch your sore limbs and grab a bite of something from the small kitchen of the motel room. Dean and Sam were both sitting in their chair and place on the sofa respectively, but the older Winchester immediately leaned forward and directed a smirk at his brother, who had shifted a little on the couch.

“Missing the cuddles already?” he asked teasingly, and this time you actually saw Sam blush and tell his brother to shut up. Suddenly feeling more eager to finish your toast and head back to Sam, you ate the rest of your dinner in almost one bit before heading back to Sam, curling up on the couch ever so slightly closer to him than you had been before.

Dean’s smirk could only widen at that. “I guess someone else is missing the cuddles too,” he said, the teasing glint still in his eyes as he chuckled softly.

The blush that coloured your cheeks was dark, and it only darkened when you leaned your head down to hide your face in Sam’s shirt.

“Over-eager, are we?” Dean’s voice sounded again, and the tease in it wasn’t helping at all.

“What’s your problem, Dean?” Sam finally managed to ask, trying and failing to fight down a blush.

“I don’t have a problem,” Dean quickly replied. “But you two obviously do. You’re so blind you just refuse to see what’s in front of you,” he said, motioning at both you and Sam. “You like each other. A lot. You’re welcome,” with that, he got up and stalked out of the motel room while you were just left staring incredulously at Sam.

Sam was the one courageous enough to speak up. “Is what Dean said true?” he asked cautiously, and you could only nod because yes, what Dean had said was one hundred percent correct.

“You?” you asked back in a small voice, scared of what the answer might be.

But you got no reply, at least none in spoken words. Instead, he leaned closer to you, cupping your cheek with his hand as he pulled you in for a slow, gentle kiss that left your lips tingling and your stomach tightening with excitement and nerves. You ran your hand through his hair and pushed him back so that he was on the back on the couch and you were kissing him with kisses that because increasingly rough.

Your breath was taken away as his hands ran up and down your sides and his lips continued to attack yours. It was magical. It was perfect. It was exactly what you’d always dreamed of.