winbesters:

Title: Filling the Hole (Part One) (Part Two)

Author: winbesters

Word Count: 2249

Character(s): Sonny/Reader

Summary: Some bottled up emotions make their debut.

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Abandonment, Cursing, Mentions of rape

A/N: Remember, if you read this, please like, reblog, or shoot me a message so I’ll know! I will only keep updating if I know people are reading!

              “The crime scene was a bust. No evidence left behind anywhere. The only thing we’re going on is the semen found inside Georgia and that’ll take time to process,” Your voice had reached the squad room before your body which met Rollins and Finn who were filing paperwork at their desks, waiting for your return. Carisi was close behind you, unfortunately.

               You took to the marker board and began writing evidence on the white space and attaching photos of Georgia and her battle scars. You relayed the information back to the two while Carisi sat quietly in his chair, focusing on your hand that was scribbling about.

               “So, you’re saying that you think the mother might have some information?” Rollins stared at you quizzically as Finn shuffled in his seat. The office was bustling in the background like a lively street in the heart of the Bronx.

               You nodded your head and began to tap the marker in your hand. “Yes, I do. Something about her was odd. Most parents lunge at the police to find the sicko who attacked their child, but she didn’t. She just sat there, not saying anything. Something about her was off. Right, Carisi?”

               Sonny nodded his head slightly to show he was engaging in the conversation, but you knew that he wasn’t fully there. You were trying to escape the truth that began to ring in your mind that you might have hurt his feelings. You didn’t want to feel bad, but you couldn’t help it. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so harsh on him. After all, it was his first day at SVU, and if you recall, you’ve said similar things, if not worse. But now was not the time. There was a rapist on the loose.

               “What are you saying?” Amanda interjected. “Do you wanna bring the mother in?”

               You bit your lip in thought. “Not yet. We just saw them at the hospital. Carisi and I will go to their home tomorrow and poke around for anything out of the ordinary. After that, we’ll reign her in,” You continued as you sat down in your desk chair.

               Amanda stood up from her desk and stretched, preparing herself for a well-earned trip to the vending machine. “Alright. Well, Finn and I already interviewed the guests and staff at the party and of course, no one saw anything,” She said with irritation obviously trailing her words. “You would think that they would have noticed the birthday girl missing for ten minutes straight…Do you want anything from the machine? I’m going downstairs to the better one,”

               Finn jumped from his chair and pulled up his falling jeans. “You mean the one with the unhealthy stuff? I’m in,” He joked as he and Amanda left the room. You swiveled your chair back around and tidied up the papers that were left laying on your desk, but you couldn’t help but notice Carisi’s tense face from behind your computer monitor. His desk was still bare because he hadn’t had the chance to decorate yet, but you knew even those distractions couldn’t have kept you from notice the expression on his face. What was this emotion that was hitting you? Was it guilt? Oh, my God, it was. It was good, old fashioned guilt. For months, you haven’t felt a single emotion at work except for anger. Anger towards Nick. You knew it was senseless to hold on to that grudge you held so strongly to like a teddy bear at night, but you couldn’t let it go. You also knew you couldn’t project that anger onto an innocent man who has done nothing but been excited about working with you. You had never been great at accepting when you were wrong, but this time you had to make an exception. If this partner didn’t work out, you were sure that you would either be transferred or fired, so you had to make it work. Or at least, that’s the lie you told yourself so you felt better about actually processing your emotions for once.

               You stood up from your chair and peered down at Carisi whose hand was steadily scrolling through the web with his mouse. His eyes were wrinkled in concentration at whatever he was studying, probably a video of that mugging street rat he had mentioned earlier.

               “Carisi, can you help me with something in the break room?” You asked him. You had never been a good liar which is why you’re never asked to go undercover, but thankfully it worked this time. Maybe because you weren’t pressured to do great or you’d get shot?

               Sonny obliged and raised himself up from his chair, following you into the break room. You let him enter first like Olivia had done for you earlier that day, then quickly followed suit and shut the door. Carisi turned to look at you, hands tucked into his pants pockets. A look of irritation was resting on his face while he glared at you with obvious hurt feelings tucked away within the creases of his face. You folded your arms over your chest in emotional defense and began to speak in a way that you hadn’t done in a long time.

               “I’m sorry,” You plainly said, staring at him. He just kept his eyes fixated on you as if he were expecting more, but you weren’t sure what to say. Nothing that your head concocted felt right for the situation. “I took my anger out on you and that wasn’t okay. I’m sorry,” You apologized again with a tone of regret in your voice. You looked down at the ground like a wounded puppy afraid to be hit by its master.

               Sonny shook his head in disbelief as a pained, small grin grew on his lips. “Anger from what? What did I do to piss you off within the five hours that we’ve known each other? Am I that fucking intolerable to you?”    

               Sonny showcased a side of him that you had yet to see and although his words stung, you found it exciting. You felt like you were breaking through the wall of enthusiasm that Carisi had built around himself. However, you still felt your anger boiling underneath your skin like a forgotten pot of water on the stove. How dare he assume that he is so important to cause you so much frustration?

               You stuck your finger out towards him in irritation. “You don’t know the fucking half of it, Carisi,” You shook your head, turning your back towards the increasingly defensive entity behind you. You kicked the vending machine with the tip of your boot, causing a violent sound to break the tension.

               Sonny stretched out his arms from his sides and you turned to look at him, expanding his ligaments. “Then tell me, because if we don’t get past this now, then this isn’t gonna work out. And I know you want this to for the sake of your job and I want this to for the sake of helping people, so just tell me!” His voice rose from an argumentative tone to practically a shout, but neither of you cared if the people outside could hear.

               You could feel the heat reaching your ears and turning them redder than blood as you charged towards him, hitting his chest with your palms in an abusive pattern as you spoke. “You wanna know why I’ve been treating you like shit? Huh? Because the last partner I had treated me like fucking dirt in the end! I trusted him and I had never trusted a man before and what did he do? Leave! Like every other person in my life! So why on earth would I be okay with another fucking man coming in to just repeat that same painful process of making me feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and stomped on by a stampede? So that is why I treat you like shit, because I don’t want another fucking man hurting me like him. So fuck you, and fuck Nick, too,” You released the emotions that were compacted within you for so long, which were now being catapulted from your tongue like cannonballs. The frustration that had kept you up at night, the abandonment that made you sob in the shower…it was all making itself known in this very moment and you were finally, fully aware of the damage that Nick brought upon you with his departure. No man in your life had ever cared about you like he did, treated you as well as he did, or loved you as purely as he did. There was not just a hole across from your desk when he fled, but a hole in your life and your heart that was incapable of being sewn back shut.

Your fists ceased to pound into the helpless man’s chest as you lunged your way over to the door and exited the tense area and back into the squad room. You strode past your fellow cops that were grazing over take out that someone had generously bought, trying your best to avoid eye contact with anyone. You felt tears start to bubble in your eyes like a witches brew about to explode when you finally made it to the bunk room. You plopped down onto one of the beds that were often used for cops on the job to take cat naps if needed, but there was no way in hell you would be able to sleep. Not after that.

You sat alone in the dark room of beds, head in your hands that were moistened by your tears. You were thankful no one was in there to observe you in your weakest state: letting loose emotions that had been lodged in your mind like bullets for months. It is one thing to be scarred by a man at a young age and to no longer trust them, but it was another kind of torture to finally trust again and have that beautiful savior flee across the country to the West. You felt abandoned, like a puppy at a shelter, and now you finally were accepting that he was gone. Every tear felt like a memory that you had with him: taking turns sleeping during stake outs, bringing you your favorite food when you were having a bad day, letting you cry on his shoulder when cases got to you. All of that was gone and now you were finally accepting it. You had been in denial for so long that a man had hurt you once again, but now the anger of the situation had flowed through and was revealing sadness that was hidden behind a façade of bad assery.

               While all these thoughts were going through your head, the door to the bunk room shyly opened to reveal Sonny standing in the doorway. He crept in silently, walking on tiptoes and sat down next to you on the bed. You knew he was there, but still you didn’t stop crying. It was too late to build another emotional dam, and maybe that was for the best. After a few more moments of silence, you picked your head up and wiped away the tears underneath your eyes like annoying gnats on a hot summer day. You fixed your posture and faced Sonny, but with your eyes to the floor.

               “I’m sorry,” You began, but he cut you off prematurely. His hand rose and placed itself on your back in an encouraging manner.

               “No. Don’t you apologize to me. I understand that you were being a little less than pleasant-,” Sonny spoke softly, but you gave him a sarcastic smirk.

               “Alright, you were a bitch,” You nodded in approval at the modified description. “But I understand now that you were being that way as a defense mechanism. You don’t wanna be hurt again, and I get that. This Nick guy sounds like he did a number on you, but from what I’ve seen these past couple of hours, you’re strong enough to move past it. You were brave enough to put a rat in that one guy’s desk, so why can’t you heal from this?”

               You shot up and raised your palms to your chest as if you were surrendering. “Hey, it was never proven that was me,”

               Sonny nodded his head and chuckled softly. “Alright, alright. But I want you to know, whatever heartbreak you felt when Nick left, you’re not gonna experience with me. When I took an oath to protect and serve, I also made a promise to be there for my partner and risk my life for them. I’m not gonna leave you. Someone would have to kill me before I abandoned you,”

               You could hear real sincerity in his voice, a kindness that you have rarely heard from a man. You craned your head to face him and gave him a polite smile that didn’t do justice for the warmth you felt in your chest. You felt like he was being candidly honest, and it heated your bones down to the core with a sensation of safety and reliance.

               Of course, you weren’t going to let him know you’re a softy, so you rolled your eyes and stood up from the bunk, wiping away the remaining residue of your tears. “God, I’m stuck with you for life?” You retorted sarcastically.

               Sonny rose with a smirk on his face. “Seems like it, doll,” He replied, placing his hand on your back once again, escorting you out of the room.

Title: Daddys’ Daughter

Author: imaginesupernaturally

Word Count: 661

Trigger Warnings: Fluff?

Fic:

Leaves that outstretched from the bush prodded at the angel’s skin viciously as if taunting him for being an overbearing parent. Every time the brown twigs would attack him, he could only imagine how the boy’s fingers were trailing across his daughter’s arms, just trying to reach for her- oh, Father.

               “Dean, I cannot just sit here and allow her to be the victim,” Castiel grumbled as his legs began to out stretch themselves in order to stand. He caught a glimpse of her sitting in the passenger seat and the perpetrator in the driver’s, probably planning on how to take advantage, or at least that was what Castiel thought. The boy’s car was parked in a drive-in, similar to what had been around in the fifties yet it had a younger vibe due to the amount of phones illuminating through every vehicle in the lot.

               Dean lunged for Castiel’s hand and yanked him back down to crouch behind the thick foliage in order to preserve her date. The angel’s body collapsed back onto the ground as he shot daggers at his lover’s green eyes. “Cas, baby, it’s okay. You have to trust her, okay? Mary is a Winchester- correction. She’s a female Winchester. There’s no tougher kind, so if he tries to lay a hand on her, we’ll have a body to hide,” His hand glided across Castiel’s upper arm in comfort as his lowered it down to grab his hand. Dean’s fingers delved into Castiel’s hands, yet the angel didn’t return any amount of pressure back, leaving Dean defeated. Castiel elongated his neck and glared through the back windshield in hopes to find a reason to stop the date. He didn’t expect to be this worrisome. Hell, he’s an angel. He could launch the boy into the sun if he wanted to, but Mary was his world and he couldn’t allow someone to corrupt and pollute her. Dean had been surprisingly calm about the whole situation because he spoke of something called “parental trust”. The angel had known nothing of this for he felt as though his father left him long ago, yet Dean had learned this lesson by raising Sam.

               Castiel lowered his body back down, turned his head towards Dean and gazed into his hypnotizing eyes. A sigh flew from his lips as he sat down and leaned against Dean’s chest as the hunter entangled his arms around the angel’s warm body. Castiel could feel Dean’s scruff against his forehead which comforted him slightly. “I just don’t want her to grow up, Dean. Right now she’s on her first date and before you know it, she’ll be getting married and moving out. I don’t want to let go,”

               “Baby, you don’t have to let go. She’ll always be our little girl. She’ll always come running to me whenever she doesn’t know which band t-shirt to wear and she’ll run to you whenever she can’t find her favorite pair of jeans. She’ll always need us whether she likes it or not. And I’ll always need you whether I like it or not. I love you,” Dean craned his head closer to Castiel’s, breathing in his scent.

               The angel’s eyes shut for a moment in relaxation then snapped back open to reveal and calmed looked. Moving his head closer, he allowed his lips to mix with Dean’s lovingly as if it were their wedding day all over again. “I love you, too,” He muttered as a group of kids waltzed by the bushes, scrunching their eyebrows in confusion at the two men cuddling together on dirt behind a bush. Dean shot his head over the glare at the teens.

               “What, you never seen two men kiss before?” He yelled as they darted away back towards the parking lot, leaving Castiel giggling. “What?”

               “I’ve never seen two men kiss either,” Castiel explained. “So, maybe it’s time we revisit the idea of installing a mirror on the ceiling above the bed,”

Title: I Love You

Author: walkingdean

Word Count: 1629

Trigger Warnings: Sexual Content, Cursing, Mention of blood

Request: Maybe a twd one where ur daryls daughter and you go on a run with other group members, get stuck because of a herd/horde and ended up being separated and he looks for you?

           Perhaps it was the debilitating stench of decaying bodies that lingered in the area or the fact that no one had showered in months, but you couldn’t muster up the desire to respond to Carl’s insistent and flirty suggestions. You told yourself that it was just the less than desirable surroundings that had mutated you to be immune towards the young boy’s wishes of making out in one of the deserted buildings, but it wasn’t the truth. Plain and simple. The buried reason was something that you couldn’t stop thinking about even though you knew it was downright foolish, lacking any credibility. Everyone had gone through some sort of loss, some people being family and others’ being their luxurious lifestyles they used to possess. For you and your father, Daryl, it was something different. You were thankful that a rotting, hellish being from satan’s womb had not dug it’s teeth into your dad yet and turned him into a nightmare, so you felt guilty when your emotions crept back in. You knew that this was a stressful time that was layered in bloodshed, so you kept the belief that your feelings of your father not loving you were unimportant compared to other things. He had other things to worry about: food, shelter, survival. You kept this in mind every time you wanted to voice your opinion, so here you were trudging through the rotten streets with Carl by your side. You had your eyesight fixed on the city hall building at the end of the stretch, keeping watch for walkers with Carl’s feet poking into the bottom of your eyesight with each step he took.

           “So…I think I saw a mattress on the floor in that building back there,” The young boy suggested as he continued his steady pace next to you, tucking his hands into his pockets. A smirk was on his lips for a few seconds, but it faded like the sun on the rise of nightfall whenever he saw that your bleak expression had not faltered. “What’s wrong? Walker got your tongue?”

           You took a deep breath without moving your eyes from the wrecked cars and dead bodies ahead, which you were used to by now. “It’s just… It’s a little stupid, Carl. I mean, I know my dad is one of the main gatherers for the group, like your dad. There’s a lot of pressure put on them to keep this miserable bunch afloat, you know? I just feel like sometimes my dad cares for everyone else before me. God, I sound terrible saying that out loud,” You stopped walking and covered your face with your hands, fighting the tears that were dancing around the corners of your eyes. Carl marched in front of you, put his hands around your wrists, and forced your arms down to reveal your wet eyes. His irises seemed to infect yours with a virus of understanding.

           “Babe, I know you’re a terrible person,” He joked which resulted in you giggling softly at his attempt to get you to smile. “But you know your dad loves you. If he didn’t he wouldn’t try to satisfy everyone in the group in order to keep you guys in. You’ve always been his main priority, even over that damned crossbow, beer, or anyone else in the group,” You flashed him a small grin as you allowed your lips to collide with his and mix both emotions emitting from you two. “Now, how about you put that mattress back there as one of your priorities?”

           “I’m going to start making an itinerary for these runs because all we ever do is hookup in a worse place than the last time,” You sighed as you stood up, buttoning your shirt back together. Carl was in the corner, sliding his pants back onto his dirt-stained hips. You shook your head to yourself as you thought about the both of you shacking up while everyone else was trying to gather supplies. That’s seventeen year olds for you.

           “Oh, come on. That place over in Valdosta wasn’t too shabby. Wasn’t it in like, a music store or something? That was romantic” He murmured from the other side of the room while finishing up covering his body again in the dingy clothes. You began to grab your weapons and assemble them back onto your body as he did the same, and continued outside together.

           “Carl, it was a funeral home run by a family with the last name of Music. I swear to God. I don’t know which is worse: you not remember that place or us being so used to being surrounded by dead bodies we could do it right then and there,” It wasn’t long before the two of you were walking in sync, approaching Daryl and Rick who were loading tons of supplies into the back of the truck. Today had obviously been successful without the help of you two.  

           “Where have you love birds been?” Rick muttered as he handed Daryl another load of food to toss in the back. Both of them had sweat radiating off their bodies in the Georgia heat from the excessive amount of work. Your dad kept giving Carl darting looks as Rick had a sly smirk on his lips that Carl was reflecting. Oh, the awkwardness.

           Carl took in a breath as he relaxed his hands onto his torso. “Well, we were searching buildings with no luck and we see why. You two ransacked them all before we could. Woah, what’s that? Cream corn?” The giddiness in his voice was something that couldn’t be left alone as you and Rick began to chuckle at the child-like innocence that emerged within him. You stared at your father, tension rising in your head. You waltzed over to the truck, hopped into the bed and began to take the boxed from him instead of his arms stretching to plop the supplied down.

           “Thanks, darlin’. I appreciate it, but I don’t appreciate you being reckless with Carl. You have to be alert when you’re out on the field. Remember when I used to take you huntin’ on Sunday mornings?”

           You weren’t surprised for this conversation to turn into a lecture, so you just let it unravel. “Yeah, daddy. I remember that time uncle Merle told you that you could pee on an electric fence and that the myths of getting shocked were bullshit,” You chuckled softly to yourself as Daryl spread a gentle smile of his own.

           “Haha,” he mocked as he continued. “Anyway, we’re the deer now, Y/N. The deadies walking around, they’re us but with bigger guns: a sickness. I can’t let my doe go runnin’ off into danger, especially when it’s huntin’ season,”

           “Alright, daddy. I understand,”

           This recollection of memories began to flood your mind as you tuned into the herd right above you. The image of your father kept flashing into your head as your eyes scanned for anything that could be used in case a walker found their way in. Nothing. You had slid into a broken window that belonged to an abandoned apartment that seemed otherwise untouched. That seemed to be good news, but unfortunately you found your way in here over two hours ago. Either your group was dead or they gave up on the search for you, both thoughts being extremely difficult to process. In your heart you knew you hoped that they had gone on without you so they’d still be alive, but you also knew your dad would be asking where you were at and even the smallest glimpse of his tears in your imagination would spark a chain reaction in your eyes.

           You slid your back on the wall next to window and lowered yourself down onto the floor, covering your face with your hands since that’s what you do when you’re upset. It was polite to say that you had given up hope, but in the harsher truth you had about as much hope as Jack did in that water. You were so distraught your mind began to fill your head with illusions of your dad’s crossbow plunging arrows into the scalps of the walkers outside. Hell, it was almost like you could hear it.

           “Get the hell up,” Your dad’s hands gathered your body as he tore through the window and led you out past the remainder of the walkers. He would dodge and pick his arrows back up from the heads of the unfortunate souls on the ground and reuse them in the bodies of other hellish beings to lead you back to his motorcycle. It wasn’t long before you both were zooming away from the ditch of blood in the distance. Whenever it was safe, Daryl stopped his mode of transportation and hopped off of it, covering his mouth with his hands out of residual anger and fear. You stood off of the motorcycle and walked over to him.

           “Listen, dad. I’m sorry I went even though you didn’t want me to. I just wanted to show you that I’m capable of putting forth an effort for the group. I needed to show you that I’m grown and that I can take care of myself because I know you have all of those other people to care for-,”

           “Y/N, I love you so much. If you ever put yourself in that kind of danger again, I swear to God I’ll kill you faster than any of those lurkers can,”

           “That’s all I needed to hear, dad.”

I’m about to write some walking dead fanfiction if anyone has a prompt in mind

huntinghellhound:

Title: Kevin Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (Part Two)

Part One

Author: huntinghellhound

Word Count: 2733

Original Imagine/Request/Summary: Can I request a Kevin one shot where he started hallucinating that Crowley was hurting the reader or everything she did somehow killed her so he…

Title: Kevin Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (Part Two) 

Part One

Author: huntinghellhound

Word Count: 2733

Original Imagine/Request/Summary: Can I request a Kevin one shot where he started hallucinating that Crowley was hurting the reader or everything she did somehow killed her so he starts following her around everywhere while working on the tablet and the reader doesn’t mind since he used to ignore her but gets concerned when he freaks out about everything little thing she does.
Trigger Warnings: Cursing, Violence
Fic:

                                               KEVIN’S POV

      “Cocoa Butter Kiss, Cocoa Butter Kiss, Cocoa Butter Ki- gotcha!” I yelped out as my hungry hands lunged at the deodorant and attacked it as if it were my prey that had been evading my senses for years. I held the light blue object in my hands as I memorized what the package looked like in case I ever had to find it again, which hopefully I will. Can’t you just picture it? I would come home from a day of work at the office, my feet so sore it would feel like my bones were colliding with the cement of my driveway rather than my skin. Little Kevin Jr. and Y/N Jr. playing with Legos on our white carpet that we constantly regret because it stains so easy, but we deal with it anyway. I would waltz into the kitchen and plop my suitcase which would be keeling over with loads of money trying to pop out onto the counter to greet my lovely wife, Y/N. She would ask me to go to the store because we need lettuce, cauliflower, and her favorite deodorant: Cocoa Butter Kiss. Isn’t that just romantic? There wouldn’t be any angel nonsense or tablets to read. We would be the perfect couple mimicking Bewitched, I Love Lucy even. 
      “Son, are you okay?” I was so caught up in my fantasy, I hadn’t even realized that I was clutching the bar close to my chest, embracing it lovingly as if it were her herself. My gaze had drifted up to the fluorescent lights that dangled above my head during the made up prediction and left spots in my vision as my eye sight catapulted itself back to reality and landed upon an old woman that was glaring at me with concern spilled in her eyes. Her white hair stood out like Mitt Romney at a gay pride parade as it clashed with her black dress that she had probably worn to church. Her mouth was hanging open in confusion as I let the deodorant loosen in my grip and swung it down to my side. My own eyes started to grow big as I tried to find an excuse for having an impromptu date with the product, but nothing came to mind. I flashed my white smile to the woman, nervousness serving as a prop for my lips to hold themselves up. 
“I just… I, uh- I really love this deodorant. Brings back memories from the summer of ‘69, ya know,” The anxious grin fell away from my face like leaves from a giant oak during the fall and was replaced by a look of fright after I analyzed what I had said and the words had left my charming tongue. “Not that I’m calling you old or anything. I mean, look at you. You had to be around during then, right?” Her mouth shut to form a scowl as her eyes started to squint in annoyance to my flopping excuse. I raised my hands up in front of my chest while still gripping tight to the bar, trying to serve as an act of defense. I don’t know much about the elderly crowd, but I do know that if you piss one off, it’s like you stole every single one of their dentures. You kind of have to admire their alliance with each other, but I could save that appreciation for another time when I wasn’t afraid for my life. My feet were quick as they began to back up as I dodged tables in the center of the main isle that were stacked to the top with ‘newly baked donuts’ to get away from the awkward and downward spiraling conversation. I felt like the Flash, but instead of running to save perilous townspeople, I was running from a granny who probably already forgot about the encounter. I slowed my quickened pace down a small pinch as I rounded a corner and peered behind my body for any trace of the grandma which there wasn’t a trail of animal crackers and hard candy behind me, so I assumed she hadn’t followed. Not even two seconds of turning into a new isle, a buggy collided with my stomach as I felt the wind get knocked out of me. I could compare the sudden blow to my abdomen as a train ramming into my gut, but that would be a disgustingly minute understatement. It was more like playing soccer with the Incredible Hulk and finding out he has terrible foot-eye coordination. I hunched my body over at the sudden pain, but I still hadn’t let go of the diamond that I had pluck from the toiletry isle. 
“Kevin, are you okay?” I couldn’t dichotomize whether I was relieved to hear Y/N’s voice or embarrassed that she had been my assaulter. It was a heavy buggy and she had to be going at least fifty miles an hour down the isle, okay? I furrowed my brows in irritation with myself, but immediately ripped it off and sewed a polite smile on my lips in it’s place. I tossed the deodorant which had brought nothing but torture since it had been in my grasp into the buggy as the woman of my dreams transpired a quizzical look on her normally plain face. I say plain because she never really expresses emotion through her features which is something I really admire since a person walking by could probably guess by my own expression that I had been tormented by a granny and a metal cart; that’s how easy I am to figure out, but she was different. I could probably talk to her for hours and not even know what’s going on in her mind, and that intrigued me even more. “Why are you out of breath-,”
“The deals in this store are absolutely breathtaking,” I muttered as I tried to play off my pain. Of course, it felt like a thousand bullets had pummeled into my stomach, but I wasn’t about admit it. I deposited one hand on my hip as I reached out for one of the coupons that were sticking out on the rack that was propped next to us. I tore it from the plastic holster that it was concealed in and held it over my face. “You see, look at this!” I proclaimed as I confidently read the printing. “Five tubes of K&Y Jelly for thirteen ninety-okay. Never mind that,” I nervously chuckled as I let the paper fall to the ground. In reality, I was playing it cool and attempting to be the suave man by day, debonair by night facade, but internally I was a completely different story. I wanted to grab my hair out of frustration and pull it out by the roots as I would watch my follicles float steadily to the ground, but was that an option? No. I couldn’t stomp my feet against the floor like a child having a tantrum in the cereal isle or even a housewife who whines because they market doesn’t carry organic foods. I just had to play it cool, play it calm. 
The real breath taker in the store had her lips copy her face and crack out a smile, mimicking it’s beauty. It was a cautious yet amused grin, so I figured I hadn’t creep her out too much. ” Do you think you could grab one last thing for me? I need some Febreeze for the bunker because well, it smells like fish from the water,”
I couldn’t decide if I was happy that there was an excuse to leave another painfully awkward conversation or if I was saddened that I was going to have to leave her presence, but I agreed to grab that last product anyways. I let my body sulk away from hers as I made quick glances down the isle to locate the home goods. It was like seeing a chapter in different stories with each group of people that I took notice of in their own isles. There was a family joking around in the starch isles, messing with each other by snide comments which occasionally their mother would fuss at them for speaking. A tall, young man around my age stood in the alcoholic beverage center of the store, probably about to shoplift his first beer, but did I care or really know for sure? Of course not. I wasn’t really certain either if they ever noticed, but all we really are to strangers are chapters in some book that they’ve never read. I may be the main character in my book, but I’m just a passerby to the woman working the night shift at the cash register. She probably had a kid that she was working this job for, trying her best to support her spawn even though her parents weren’t helping her out since she was still in high school. More than likely the father of the baby had skipped town without even looking back, but I wasn’t aware of any of this. I was just a measly little side character with no lines in her book, and I felt the same towards Y/N. She had her own book, hell, she’s so amazing she deserves her own series. I just feel like that one kid that sits in the back of class and ogles at the pretty girl at the front. That felt like my role in this horrible script, but I didn’t want to be a static character. I wanted to be a dynamic character; I wanted to change the way that she viewed me as just an acquaintance or maybe just a friend at best. I wanted to be the character that the audience roots for in getting the girl, even against all odds. So there I stood staring at a rack of air fresheners, questioning the meaning of life. Doesn’t get much more exciting than that, huh? I slung my arm out and picked a random can easily as if it were low-hanging fruit for my eager hands. When I turned to make my way back to my protagonist, my line of travel was blocked by my antagonist. Her pale blue eyes felt like a fist fight waiting to happen as they poured into mine, and she would win that battle. There was no way I was going to beat the granny from hell. 
My eyes grew larger than the moon as I tried to take a step past my nightmare, but her reflexes were faster than the papirazzo that dodged Britney Spear’s umbrella during her unstable phase as she gripped my wrist tight with her seemingly weak hands. My eyes shot back to her figure as I tried to wriggle my arm from her grasp, but it was a failure. Her head turned slowly to mine, her short stature somehow intimidating me. I normally wouldn’t be afraid from a Betty Crocker look-alike, but she wasn’t a regular grandma who baked her grand kids cookies every day after school. I realized this as her irises had vanished from her glossy eyes and black holes were etched in their place, sending immediate fear through my body. It wasn’t entirely because I was afraid that whatever demon was possessing the senior citizen would kill me. I was fearful that it would harm Y/N, and I couldn’t have that. If I could preserve her body from just even a paper cut by giving the demon my life, I would do it in a heartbeat. “I’m guessing the secret ingredient in your peach cobbler isn’t cinnamon; it’s virgin’s blood, right?” I laughed as I tried to distract the abomination until some sort of high-action plan concocted in my head, but I was drawing a blank. I hadn’t any holy water, the Kurd’s knife, and I hadn’t memorized the anti-possession chant that Dean and Sam had advised me to, so I couldn’t escape this. The demon applied all of it’s strength and forced my back against the rack behind my figure, sending out a shot of pain through my spine as I collided with metal once again that day. This time it was a bit less quirky and cute since my life was in danger, and well, it was a freakin’ demon that had probably ripped out many people’s throat out already in it’s life time. 
A smile punched through the woman’s lips as her eyes continued to be as dark as the night on the dreariest of Halloween’s evenings. Her hand was wrapped uncomfortably around my neck that felt as if it’s bones were about to crush from under all of the pressure. “Rex noster, et egredietur cum anima descendit quod amas resurget,” Her murmuring sent a chill down my spine as her words caressed my ears ever so carefully which I knew she could sense. Right when the last bit of air was about to escape from my lungs and leap out into the stuffy air, her fist made it’s way through my body’s skin as she toyed around with my organs. I could feel her fingers slice my stomach which had butterflies in them only moments ago from Y/N, who I knew I was never going to see again. It felt like I could almost feel the fluttering insects wilt and die along side me, as I could feel the last of my soul seeping out from my body and up into heaven where all prophets belong. I was dying in the air freshener isle at the hands of someone who could have a future as a Queen Elizabeth II impersonator. How dramatic?
“Kevin!” Y/N’s voice slipped in my ears and sounded like an enticing lullaby to convince me to give into death’s slimy hands, but instead of being carried off into my Father’s kingdom, I was staring once again at the cans of Febreeze. My hands traveled down to my midsection while I lifted my shirt up with no scratches or hands to be seen. Instead, there was Y/N charging down the isle with the buggy which proved my hypothesis that she need to slow down with that thing. I let my shirt drop back down as I turned to face my savior, finally realizing what had just happened. This time it hadn’t been the silver lining in my life that had been harmed in one of my visions or prophecies or whatever you want to call it; it had been me suffering, which was odd. I wasn’t as nearly shaken up as I usually was after an episode of ‘A Million Ways To Die: The Prophet Version’ was played in my head because frankly she hadn’t been harmed, but it still left a feeling of eeriness traveling through my veins. “I sent you for that like fifteen minutes ago. What’s the hold up?”
I glared at her as a billion thoughts swarmed through my head like an angry pack of bees, awaiting for me to pluck one of them and use it as an excuse for my delay. I placed the can that I had chosen earlier in the cart, not taking my eyes off of her, not that I would want to. “I couldn’t decide between Ocean Breeze or Rain. I wanted something a little manly,” The lie slipped way too easily from my mouth, but I wasn’t too shocked at how skilled I had become with the trait of spreading sin with my words. I had been lying about these hallucinations for weeks at this point. 
Her hand picked the can that I had chosen as she read it with a confused look. “So, you chose Sweet Pea Petals? Manly man you are indeed,” She chuckled as she shined me that famous smile that I always caught myself acknowledging. It didn’t calm me as it normally did, but instead made me feel a ocean of guilt because she had sent me a wave of happiness. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep up the charade, but I was going to try to for her sake or at least until I figured everything out until then. Until that time comes, I’ll live in the boat with Y/N while smelling like Sweet Pea Petals and her like Cocoa Butter Kiss, translating the tablet and what the hell was going on with my mind.

Title: Pretty Mad Syndrome
Author: huntinghellhound
Word count: 1590
Original Imagine/Request/Summary: Could you please do a oneshot where the reader is PMSing and Dean doesn’t know that, so he teases her like he always does, and the reader can’t help being extremely offended and moody towards him. So he goes out of his way to make it up to her and it just ends really fluffy? Thank you! -anon

Trigger Warnings: Cursing

A/N: This is kind of in that area when the angels were being bitches about the brother’s playing their roles (season 5????) idk. And sorry it took so long for me to write it!

Fic:

      Rage. That four letter, simple word couldn’t possibly convey your emotions even the slightest as you could feel an indescribable feeling take place of your normally calm conscience. You didn’t attack, oh no. The anger didn’t even make you lose your senses to lunge out and wrap your precious little hands around the man’s neck until the last breath in his body had left his lungs. You just sat with your quiet body in a chair, your mind fuming as countless curses danced within your head. There he sat, your tormentor, your aggravation lying silently on the couch while flipping through a magazine that he had picked up from some sex shop in town labeled ‘Busty Asian Beauties: The Chopstick Series’. He would occasionally raise his eyebrows at a fantastic photograph in the sinful book that was paired with a ‘wow’ or ‘how’d she get that there?’ which resulted in constant eye rolls from your irritated figure. You hadn’t been too upset until you had taken it upon yourself to actually leave your room while your Aunt Flow was visiting which as soon as your feet left the flooring of your room, you knew you should have turned back around. The emotions and feelings that you felt during your period weren’t too bad. If you had to rate it on a scale from Justin Bieber terrorizing the paparazzi to Mel Gibson almost fist fighting with a stewardess because he wasn’t allowed to play Words With Friends on his plane, you were Kanye West running up on stage during Taylor Swift’s performance. Dean Winchester wasn’t completely aware of the emotional instability that you faced while your uterus literally shreds itself, so he thought a little joke here and there on your appearance was harmless with no impact. Period or not, a girl has her right to call someone out especially for criticizing someone’s appearance. The few words that had left his lips were ‘I see you weren’t trying to look good today’ as his reaction to your sweats, no make up, and messy bun. He typically joked about small things like that, but you were an ocean of fury and his words were a merchant’s ship caught up in the deadly waves, about to be wrecked.
      A few moments had passed since the encounter, so you figured it was time to bring it up. Now or never, right? “Hey, Dean?” Your voice carried through out the living space in the bunker, standing out like a soccer mom at a night club. His eyes didn’t falter from the distracting and derogatory images that were displayed in front of him as he soaked in your words. You knew that he had heard them, but was too busy being a dog to reply back, which made you even angrier. “I think Sam brought home some pie last night,” The lie fell from your lips easier than you had expected as you studied him for a reaction. The magazine was forcefully closed by his coarse hands as he pulled his worn body from the similarly banged up couch as he drudged over to the kitchen that was only a few steps away. His eyes were eager as he pried the white fridge door open, only to have his dreams crushed and his heart crumble into irreparable pieces. His hopeful smile was torn to shreds as an angry frown reassembled in it’s place.
      “Y/N!” An agitated roar erupted from his wide mouth. causing you to smirk in undeniable victory. You knew there was no pie in the fridge, but hey? What was wrong with sharing some of your bad mood with the person who caused it? You leaped from the seat and innocently waltzed your way into the cold floored kitchen which sent chills up your spine each time it touched your feet. There was the hunter, standing in a pool of pure devastation and embarrassment while his mouth was gaping to match his demeanor. “What the hell was that? There are many things you don’t do in the world. For example, you don’t kill people,”
      “We do that with the demon knife,” You interrupted his rant with the sass-filled comment as he rolled his eyes at you. He shrugged his shoulders in acknowledgement as he absorbed the fact that you were right, but pressed his lecture on.
      “Okay, Well- we do. That’s not the point, though. One of the golden rules in this bunker is-,”
       ”Always replace the toilet paper when it’s empty?”
      “Oh, God damnit, Y/N. You just don’t lie about pie, okay? That isn’t allowed in this crumbling, horrible excuse of a family. I don’t know what kind of sick amusement you got from this, but that wasn’t okay,” His balled fists hit the island that stood in the middle of the fighting ring as he stared at you intently with his piercing green eyes.
       ”The same kind of amusement you get for telling a girl she doesn’t look presentable. The same kind of pleasure you get from always accusing a girl of constantly being on her period when she’s emotional, even though I am, that doesn’t allow you to joke about it, you bag of viagra-pumped dicks,” Your words fell from your tongue like alcohol. They burnt as the came from your throat and out into the air and intoxicated Dean with realization of why you had been a bit more sensitive than usual. Sure, it wasn’t your cycle doing all the talking; Dean had always bantered with you like that, but words can cut deeper than any knife can. He knew that he had to repair the damage that he had inflicted up on with just his murmurings and light jokes, even if it meant he had to spend some time away from his precious Asian Beauties.

      “Hey, Y/N?” Dean’s voice sounded like a gunshot as it shattered and wounded the silence that had been dangling in the air. His head popped in your room as he creaked the door open slightly, making sure that you were dressed before he completely let himself in. Your tense body was lounged across your bed, looking at your bully from afar while he examined your body that was so comfortably relaxed. He shifted his figure completely into your room, having his hands tucked behind his back. He furrowed his brows and squeezed his lips tightly as if he were afraid of letting the apology flow from his mouth.
      “You gonna stand there like a nervous child before his first school play or say something?” You shot out as you picked your body from the mattress and sat with your legs crossed. You raised your own brows and gave him a sly smirk, but it wasn’t the least bit playful. You were living up to the hype around the woman scorned, to say the least. The hunter’s eyes didn’t roll like you had expected, but it seemed as if they had a hint of regret and sorrow sing in them, giving off the impression that a melodic apology was about to be played. His arms began to unravel themselves from behind his back as he revealed a large box of Midol and a giant box of chocolate in the other hand. The heart-shaped plastic case had a printed drawing on the top of the lid of a cartoon teddy bear holding a sign that said ‘I’m Vewy Sowwy’. The innocent looking beast had a cheesy teardrop seeping from one of it’s eyes and he held a balloon shaped like another heart in his paw. Dean positioned his body down on your bed as he laid your new possessions in your lap. You let your gaze drift from the box and up into the hunter’s eyes which no longer irritated you to look at. “Thanks, asshole,” You jokingly replied as you tossed the gifts aside and punched the hunter in a kiddish manner on the shoulder.
      “You’re welcome, bitch,” He smiled back as he dressed one hand on the back of your head and left a minute peck on your forehead. His lips coming into contact with your skin caused an army of goosebumps to rise on your body as he pulled away against your inner desires. He rolled over your legs as his weight felt like they were about to crush your limbs and he settled his skeleton on your bed. He propped his head up with his arms behind his head, grinning foolishly at your bright face.
      “Don’t you have some Asian Beauties to ogle at?” You interrogated him as you smiled while raising an eyebrow in suspicion, almost giving off the impression of scolding him for not eyeing the women.
      “Nah, I have no need to. I have this beauty right here to stare at instead,” He explained as he winked an eye in your direction, popped open the chocolates that were meant for you, and tossed one into his mouth while knowing that he had fixed at least one problem going on in his life. He still had arch-assholes banging on his door every second, but he made things right with you, and that was all that mattered to him.

Title: Flight 815
Author: huntinghellhound
Word Count: 1877
Original Imagine/Request/Summary: 

• Do you think you could do that Gabriel imagine??? Bc it sound like a good request and idk about that anon but now I’ve got Gabe feel whoops - anon
• I have bad Gabriel feels too aMD THEY WONT ATOP HELP - anon

Trigger Warnings: Cursing, Blood, Plane Crash, Mention of Perez Hilton
A/N: I feel literally so bad because I knew I had three requests involving Gabe and I thought they all were pretty plotless, so I just wrote this up then realized one did have a plot that anon requested, so i’ll make that up soon. 
Fic:

      “What the hell?” Dean’s voice echoed like a thousand claps in a concealed stadium as it bounced off the surrounding trees on the island. They were tastefully spread out among the sand that led into a dense forest a few yards away from the combative ocean as if God had planted them there himself. The sand was soft under your toes as you squished the tan, luxurious soil with your feet to get a good feel of the place. The air was rich with the scent of fresh salt and mechanical oil from a plane that was laying on the shore, torn in half. It wasn’t all of the flying creature, but most of it had ended up on your side of the island. Unfamiliar people were running chaotically from the heinous wreck, some away and some to the fiery abyss to help those who were in need. Blood stained some of the tan crystals that was supporting the aircraft and yourselves as you looked on in confusion. Dean was standing in a ripped white t-shirt and bloodied jeans, his body painted with scratches and cuts that were laying lazily on his face. Sam on the other hand was dressed in a ripped business suit that was littered in dark powder and blood that was seeping from his own body, but not enough to be fatal. Your own figure was clad with a tank top that was barely hanging on since it had been torn to shreds, your jeans mimicking your shirt. It was fair to say that the three of you had just been in a plane crash, but you weren’t sure how you had gotten there. Not even five minutes ago, your were standing absent-mindedly in the bunker’s kitchen in your favorite sweats while drowning your stomach with a piece of pie that you had managed to slip past the eldest brother; Sam and Dean’s own skeletons had just been in the living room arguing whether or not Tara Reid’s career would ever have a comeback or not. It made absolutely no sense, none at all.
      “Looks like it,” You muttered under your breath, taking in more mental images of the deadly wreck. Flames were erupting from every which way so it was hard to determine where exactly the wreckage ended and began. The deafening noise from the engine that was trying with all of it’s might to sputter was causing a buzzing in your ears, almost eliminating your ability to perceive sound. Your legs began to charge to the mess, your hunter instincts kicking in as you had to desire to risk your own precious life to save another. Sand flung up around your heels as you barely touched the ground you were sprinting at such a fast speed, causing Sam and Dean to follow your own example. When you reached the chaotic scene, bloody and wounded bodies were running past your vision at an obnoxiously fast rate. Screaming was the second most dominant sound compared to the engine as you tried to determine which yelp to assist first. Your ears centralized on one familiar voice as you felt yourself try to find the perilous scream over all of the confusion, but it seemed like there was an infinite amount of smoke looming in the air that was trying to purposefully blind your sight as to sabotage your attempt at rescuing an innocent soul. You were finally able to locate the seemingly disembodied voice as you saw it belonged to a young woman who was sitting a few yards away from the hideous crash. She was clutching her stomach which was swollen with the beginning of a new human being as tears began to slide down her face. There was a man crouched next to her trying his best to comfort the sobbing and terrifyingly nervous girl who wasn’t planning to stop her bawling. The young male was large in size with brown curly hair cuffing his face messily giving off the impression that his mane was uncontrollable even before the accident. He was donning a grey shirt that was ripped like yours and your colleagues, blood scattered throughout his own body, but he didn’t seem as if he were in too much pain. You carried your body hurriedly to the scene and attempted to help the wounded and upset the best that you could.
      “How many months are you?” You yelled to the woman, her wet face from her own tears shining in the sunshine. Her blonde hair was about as straight as Perez Hilton, knots and tangles ravaging and thriving within her locks. She had gigantic blue eyes that would have matched the ocean if it wasn’t polluted with oil from the disabled plane.
“Um, about eight months,” She replied breathlessly, her mouth quivering with undeniable fear. You felt panic strike within your heart, the realization that the girl may be going into labor or worse: she had lost the baby. You froze for a few seconds, not knowing what to respond with. The large man looked on with anticipation, obviously relieved that someone had sacrificed their own time to help him with the catastrophe. “I haven’t felt it kick since i crawled out of the wreckage. Is my baby dead?” Her screaming became frantic as her voice began to combine with the other hectic surroundings.
      “It might be a little shaken up from the slight movement, so the inability to feel it kick would be expected,” You tried to comfort the horrified girl, her tears halting a small bit. “I’m Y/N,”
      “I’m Claire,” She responded as her voice made it obvious that she was trying to hold back tears. You weren’t sure if it was from the trauma of the crash, from fear of losing her unborn child, or a combination of both that had made her so emotionally unstable.
      “I’m Hurley,” The man from earlier spoke up, breaking the conversation between the pregnant woman and yourself as an explanation began to conjure up in your hectic mind. The names that had told you sounded vaguely familiar, sending a ping of recognition through the nerves in your brain. You stared into the man’s humongous brown eyes as the solution hit you so hard it almost left a bruise on your train of thought.
      “This is Lost!” You yelled out, gripping tight to Claire and Hurley’s wrists as their expressions froze in their state. The fire that had been blazing so vivaciously had stopped in it’s tracks as if it were afraid to burn any brighter. Every soul that had been frantically sprinting around had also been forcefully stopped, including Sam and Dean. The only thing that didn’t stop in it’s actions were yourself and the waves crashing on the shore. You pried your tight grip from the character’s arms and rose yourself off of the ground, and began to analyze everything as curiosity struck through you once again that day.
      “Hey, hey! Someone figured it out! Good thing, too. I had a bet placed that it would be you,” A man’s voice shot out in the air from a suspicious gun of a mouth. You turned your body all the way around to have your sight met with an unfamiliar face that had a mischievous grin sketched about it, creases creating the sculpture’s laugh lines. Brown hair that almost seemed like it had a red tint gleamed in the harsh rays that the sun was radiating, his light skin shining as well. His eyes had a glimmer about them that made you want to lean in more as if they held many untold secrets, but they also seemed like they gave off the impression that you shouldn’t peer too far into the soul’s knowledge.
      “Who the hell are you?” You interrogated as you took a few light steps towards his figure, keeping enough distance so that if you had to defend yourself, there would be enough sharp wreckage around for you to grab as a weapon. His sly grin reappeared on his playful, almost childlike face as he stared at you with his piercing eyes.
       "I’m Gabriel, although I’m not sure if you’ve heard of me, but you’ve probably heard of my brothers. Michael, Lucifer, Castiel…“ He droned on, his voice trailing as he knew you would notice one of his suggestions. Your interest piqued as your ears finally recognized something for the first time since you had ended up in this place, and he was presumably the cause of your departure from your comfortable night in at the bunker. You slid your body closer to his, no longer fearing the dominance and power that radiated from his vessel. You knew your way around celestials. Hell, you even lived with one for a short period, so you know their weaknesses. Your body was only inches away from the angelic being, your throat tightening up from anxiousness.
      "So, you’re an angel? How can an angel create all of this?” You pointed out as your stretched your arms as if to use his own creations as evidence against him. He crinkled his nose and scowled slightly at your harsh response, not hesitating to fire back.
      “Angel? Y/N, I haven’t been that offended since someone bothered to tell me that Tara Reid’s career still had a shot,” The humorous words slung off of his tongue and slid into your tuned ears to hear. “I’m an arch angel, Sherlock. You’re making me start to wonder how you figured this whole thing out before Rocky and Bullwinkle over there,” He aimed his finger at the frozen bodies of Sam and Dean who were stopped mid-action of trying to part someone’s body with a large piece of shrapnel. They were bent, their bodies coated in stress and determination. You focused your sight back onto the newly befriended angel as you tried to pursue the conversation further.
      “Why’d you put us in Lost? Was Hannah Montana not on?” You sassed as your crossed your arms over your fluttering chest as you stood in such a powerful being’s presence. You propped up one leg as you eyed the angel, anticipation and intense intimidation leaking from your irises so the celestial knew that you meant business.
      “You’ll have to ask your little buddies over there that question, my friend. They don’t care for much, but they both care for you. And if I have learned anything from watching the Winchester’s since their eggs were fertilized, it’s that they’ll do anything for the people they love. Including risking their own lives,” The angel smirked as that playful demeanor danced back into his light eyes as they glared back at yours.         “See you after the commercial break,”
Your vision was abruptly switched from his charming face to the pale walls that lined the bunker that you were so accustomed to. Your plate laid on the counter empty with pie crumbs dressed across the white china. Your sweats were laced back onto your body, and you could hear Sam and Dean still having a heated discussion over the Sharknado actress. You weren’t exactly sure if what just happened was a hallucination, a dream, or a vision, but you knew one thing: You wanted to see that entrancing angel again, and soon.

huntinghellhound:

Title: Kevin Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest (Part One)

Author: huntinghellhound
Word Count: 1360

Original Imagine/Request/Summary: Can I request a Kevin one shot where he started hallucinating that Crowley was hurting the reader or everything she did somehow killed her so he starts following…

Title: Kevin Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest (Part One)

Author: huntinghellhound
Word Count: 1360

Original Imagine/Request/Summary: Can I request a Kevin one shot where he started hallucinating that Crowley was hurting the reader or everything she did somehow killed her so he starts following her around everywhere while working on the tablet and the reader doesn’t mind since he used to ignore her but gets concerned when he freaks out about everything little thing she does.
Trigger Warnings: Blood, Death

A/N: I’m breaking this request up into parts because I fell in love with the plot for this, honestly. I want to be able to give this request my absolute best since I think it has so much potential to be written well. Thank you so much for requesting it!

Fic:

      Her blood was a horrifying sight for me to see, for her to feel, but it was odd how her blood looked so attractive as it was contrasting on her pale skin. It was seeping from a lone wound that was hanging so lazily across her neck, the skin not even yearning to reconnect as more of the red liquid poured out. Her face was a painting of no emotion, no reaction from her own insides crawling around the outside of her skin. It was the blank stare in her eyes that shook me most to my core. The way she seemed calm almost, expectant of her departure from this world and into the next at the fault of her murderer’s bloody hands. He stood over her as if he were the lion and she were a wounded gazelle that was such an easy prey for the skilled beast to obtain. There was a tainted and haunted knife that clung in his red heads, but not from blood. They were more red from the amount of sin and destruction they had caused and molded over it’s dreadful lifetime than the hideous murder it had just committed. He was a demon, mentally and emotionally. I couldn’t visually see the figure of this abomination since he was committing his dirty deeds through someone’s poor vessel, being forced to see all of his heinous acts as their soul was encased with his. The abomination was known by the name Crowley, but he was known as something else to me. He was the thing that went bump in the night. He was the creature that had tempted me into hiding my body underneath a blanket at night as to not be snatched by a monster. He was once the only thing in my life that I feared until I had met Y/N. Then, my main fear became the thought and possible reality that was made plausible from my own life that she could fall to his hands just as easy as the next person.

      When I had awoken, there she sat, her hand propping up her fatigued head that had been reading the dated book for hours on end. Her Y/H/C was draping over her shoulder romantically as her body was slouching from sitting in the same position for too long. Within her skull sat her mind that was obnoxiously unaware of what I had just witnessed within my own head. The images of her lying on the ground slaughtered felt like movie credits in my head that wouldn’t end, but just kept rewinding and playing the lengthy tape over and over. She was so naïve, unknowing of the horrors of herself that I had to see, live through even. Don’t get me mistaken, the girl had grown on me since she had roomed in the bunker with myself. I was able to look past her morning breath, cranky moods, and crying every time the Harry Potter Weekend event on ABC Family ended and saw a beautiful person beneath all of that. That was something else that she wasn’t cognizant of within her childish head. She assumed that I hated her or ignored her on purpose, but that wasn’t the whole story. If anything, it was just the epilogue. I had fallen for her. I guess saying that the girl had grown on me was an understatement. She flourished on me and I accepted every leaf that grew upon her limbs and every blemish and bark that was peeling off of her trunk. I didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with someone who I barely knew anything about, but she was like that variable that proved to me so many things I thought were impossible can happen. She proved to me that with only a glare you can strike someone’s underused heart with emotion that they hadn’t felt in ages, and also that a human female can hold eight slices of pizza if hormonal enough. I didn’t even notice her soft, Y/E/C eyes drifted over to me as curiosity and wonder danced around in her eyes.
      “Kevin? Are you okay?” She pondered with her words entrancing me with every syllable. I jerked my body off of the table and quickly looked away from her as if she were a poison that would kill any of my confidence to speak. I tried to quickly recover from my awkward glare and reaction so I could at least pursue a conversation with the huntress who sat just a few inches away from my nervous body. Nothing came to mind as my childishness and inability to speak to attractive women took control of the ride.
      Oh, yeah, I’m okay. I was just trying to figure up how many tissue boxes I would have to buy for the next Harry Potter marathon,” I coldly sputtered from my mouth as her eyes tore holes through mine with aggravation. Her body that often was a distraction and masterpiece to look at for my eyes was now a sign of defeat. It was proving to me the death of a conversation and any chance of any amount of friendship sprouting and growing between us. Sure, I was seeking some sort of mutual bond between the two of us for personal reasons, but there was also a greater reason at hand. These dreams that had been conjuring up within my dreams had affected me. The vision of her chest rising for the very last time, that singular breath leaving her lungs as it drifts off in the atmosphere as carbon dioxide, not even aware that it had been touched like by someone who was now deceased was haunting me not even at night, but starting to in the day. I knew that saying ‘Hey, Y/N! Nice weather we’re having, huh? Now, about those dreams I’ve been having about your untimely death…’ wasn’t going to end well unless I wanted a sobbing mess or a slap in the face. I was a little torn on what to do until the solution hit me like that water bottle that had attacked Justin Bieber’s face so many years ago. “Hey, Y/N. That was meant to be a joke, but I see it obviously wasn’t taken that way.”

      Her body stopped in it’s tracks. She had dressed herself in her black jacket that was normally clad on her body with her purse around her arm and her car keys clutched tightly in her hand as if she were walking through a parking garage at night. My breath escaped me a little when I saw the jacket over her shoulders, well, for one it made her eyes pop like fireworks on the fourth of July, and secondly that meant that she was more than definitely leaving my sight, and I couldn’t have that. At least not as long as I was having vivid visions of Crowley crouching over her body with that same blood-hungry look that was constantly lit up in his eyes. “Do you think I could go with you? Wherever you’re going? It gets a little stuffy in here sometimes and I still don’t have very good sea legs,” I lied as sin was wrapped around every word that left my lips. She gave me an odd look that was filled with confusion that she had been sporting a few moments ago and still for the same reason.
      She let out a thoughtful sigh as she tried to hide a small smile that was cracking through her normally stern lips. “I’m going to the store to pick up a few things if your feel that you need to join,” She slyly spoke as she began to walk past me and towards the door. Was I mistaken or was there a hint of happiness that I had asked to tag along? Her smile that had tried so desperately to make itself known had caused my heart to flutter, but I ignored my organ’s nervousness as I strapped on my jacket and walked outside to join my partner in shopping and the life that could possibly be in my hands.

huntinghellhound:

Title: Heaven, This Can’t Be Forreal

Author: huntinghellhound

Word Count: 1758

Original Imagine/Request/Summary: I have a request- Could you write a oneshot where Dean gets into a fight with the reader about how she messed up a hunt and could’ve gotten killed and she keeps apologizing then…

Title: Frozen, The Unrated Version

Author: huntinghellhound

Word Count: 1403

Original Imagine/Request/Summary: 

• Do you think you could write an imagine where the reader and TFW are hunting in the winter time and while hunting the reader steps on ice over water and the ice breaks and she freezes but not to death and the boys have to huddle to keep her warm and one of them who has feelings for her get really worried like that you know
•  U know what sucks??? That I have seRIOUS SAM FEELS LIKE WHERE DID THEY COME FROM

Trigger Warnings: Charlie Sheen, John Travolta, Cursing, Make-out scene

A/N: I chose Sam because I never get Sam requests so I don’t have many of them and also he seems like he would be able to rock a parka and earmuffs.

Fic:

                 You weren’t really used to the winter with it’s harsh winds, cold snow, and foggy air. You had been raised in the south so seeing snow was like seeing Charlie Sheen sober and John Travolta not caught in a sex scandal. It was refreshing and crisp, the frostbite setting into your nose. You would have frolicked around in the white goodness, but you were on a case and skipping around with joy going through your system was probably going to alert the Wendigo and it’s killer nature. You slid your feet next to the river bank which was littered with snow that had been tainted by the dirt that was lazily laying underneath it. Evidence that there had been lively plants on the edge of the body of water was evident, but the organism had lost it’s life to frigid weather.

                “Y/N, you better quit that. I don’t feel like diving in and saving your ass. My hair looks good today so I’m not gonna sacrifice my locks for you,” Sam kidded as he wandered past you, looking for any signs of the beast. He was peering around bushes and tapping his foot against the snow to look for anything solid. In comparison, Dean was off to the side, scanning the trees for any blood that could belong from the last victim. You guys had absolutely no clue where the creature was, but at least you had a vicinity that you could search in. Bodies kept turning up here and there scattered within the national park, torn to shreds. Their bodies were drained of their blood for the most part and gave off the appearance of being mauled by some sort of killer animal.

           You rolled your eyes at Sam while he continued to eye you with a playful grin. He was watching with intent and amusement, just waiting for something to go wrong and he would have to save you. The boys were used to the snow because of all of their extensive traveling, so they weren’t shocked that you weren’t being too helpful on the lookout for the Wendigo, You stuck your foot out further on the ice, applying light pressure with your toes, caution with each tap. No cracks or rips appeared, so you saw that as a sign to continue on. You laid your boot down completely, taking a deep breath as you let the ice be your guide. Sam gazed at you with amusement filling his eyes. “You’re gonna fall through that,” He yelled across to you, but you didn’t pay much mind.

                You stuck your tongue out as you began to tiptoe over the water that was encased underneath. It was frosted over so it was a little hard to see through, but some things were still visible such as a couple of fish swimming and flopping around underneath the surface with each step that you took, scattering away when they saw your body. “You know, Sammy. This is actually kind of fun, but that’s something you wouldn’t know about, would you?” You jested as you began to jump lightly on the fragile flooring. With each hop, your heart jumped along with your feet as they lifted from the icy ground. The ice began to crack a little from your weight, but it wasn’t enough to where you were worried about it. Sam began to stick his large feet on your playground, attempting to slide over to you on his own pair of boots. His feet slid as they fell out from underneath them and he landed on his back, heaving grunts at the sudden fall. Giggles left your lips at the giant’s great fall as he let out some as well. Dean’s figure was evident in your peripheral vision, giving you both an irritated glare as he continued to search by himself, knowing that he had lost his brother to your childish ways,. Sam began to lift himself up on the ice and make his way over to you, the ice cracking with each step that he took since he was so much heavier that yourself. As he finally reached close enough to you, the combined pressure and weight of both of your bodies had finally taken a toll on the weak ground as it began to crumble before your eyes. Your foot was the first thing to slip through the cracks as immediate pain hit your skin from the chillness of the liquid. It wasn’t the normal kind of cold water you feel when you first turn on the shower. It was the feeling of soreness radiating throughout your bones as the water clashed with your body. When your face fell victim to the chill fluid, it was the worst pain that you had ever experienced in your life. It was worse than cramps, stubbing your toe, and a paper cut all happening at once. Before your body was completely delved into the watery abyss, Sam’s hand and quick thinking lunged out and grabbed your wrist to prevent your body from being completely absorbed by the fatal lake. He lifted you out from the hole, the water clinging to your body as if you belong with it. Your limbs felt weak as if you had been beaten for days on end, but in reality you were only in ridiculously cold water for a few seconds. When you the final piece of your skeleton had been pulled out from your captor, you were in Sam’s arms being carried back to the Impala that waited patiently a few yards away. His footsteps were light and quick as he made sure to not cause any more accidents. Dean came jogging over to the Impala, beating Sam to it as he flung open the door, shoved the key in the ignition and immediately turned on the heater. Sam rested his body as he continued to hold yours in his muscular arms, hoping that some of his body heat would rub off on you. Dean slid in the other side of the backseat as he stripped his body of his jacket and laid it across your wet body.

            “Is she gonna be okay?” Dean interrogated, concern trailing every word. He was of course worried about you, but he had known that this was probably going to happen since, well, you jumped on the ice. Sam looked down to your face which had it’s teeth chattering and eyes shut, trying to conserve it’s soul’s heat.

           "Yeah, she should. She wasn’t in there long enough to do enough damage,“ He reassured as he gave Dean a longing look. The oldest brother shut the door and left you and Sam alone together in the back seat as he held your body close to his as if you were his life line. Of course, the water from your body was seeping through his jacket and close to his skin which gave him chills, but he cared more about your well-being. You finally opened your eyes which were immediately met with your savior’s big brown orbs. They were almost the shade of dirt that you had been admiring just moments before. 

            "Well, shit,” You muttered as you turned your face into his chest, heaving out a breath. Sam chuckled at your small reaction to your near death experience, your head bobbing against his chest from his muffled laughter. “Sorry for ruining your hair,”

            The hero gave your a pleasant smile as he planted a small peck on your chilled forehead, sending a radiation of warmth that hit your skull. “Oh, it’s fine. Better that than Dean’s jacket or Castiel’s trench coat if he’d been here. Neither of them would have stopped bitching about that, but I don’t have a reason to complain. You’re alright and that’s all I need. You scared me to death, though,” He admitted as he mixed his lips with yours which felt like electricity as his warmth met with your ice-like lips.You hungrily kissed back, bringing your hand up to his cheek as he laid you down from his arms and onto the seat. He climbed on top of you as he hesitated for a second and looked at you with deep concentration. “You think Dean can hunt that Wendigo alone?”

           Soft giggles skipped off your lips as you raised your head up and met your lips with Sam again, praying in your head that Dean remembered the flamethrower.