Title: Doctor, Doctor

Author: imaginesupernaturally

Request:  I’m on mobile so I don’t know if I’m doing this right. Sorry if I’m not! Maybe an imagine or one shot about how the reader can’t open a medicine bottle and goes next door (Sam and Dean’s hotel) to ask if they could. Instead they see a very wounded Winchester who needs help. Panic ensues.

Word Count: 1,996

Trigger Warnings: Cursing, Pills, Blood

Fic:
               A headache swam through your head about as elegantly as an elephant in a watering hole. Pounding pain slid through every particle inside of your braid as you raised your hand to rub the area, which was no panacea. However, an old bottle of Midol you carried in your purse could maybe do the trick. You quickly dove into the leather holy grail and retrieved an ancient bottle of pain relievers that were so old, Jesus might’ve taken a few back in the day. You gripped the grooved cap and began to twist it, but it was to no avail. The inferior plastic was no match for your strength, but apparently something else was. Spilt nail polish outlined the crease where the cap met the bottle, the red liquid mocking you as it kept you away from your cure. “Okay… God is testing me right now,” You muttered as you laid the bottle down on table that held the television, and began to slugger it with your heels. Click, click, click! The beating helped nothing except to strengthen the pain in your head that was already near paralyzing. If the headache had been Popeye, it was like it had just eaten spinach.               

  “Damn it!” You sighed as you focused on a scuffle going on outside. Feet were shuffling hurriedly past you door and stopped next door as keys rattled around. A slight groan was able to be heard from one of the people outside, presumably a man from the gruffness of it. Soon, the door was open and the flooded in, quickly throwing their bags aside and slamming the door shut. You stood there, looking down at the irritating bottle on the table, to the door, and then to the wall right ahead of you as if you could see your neighbors through the paneling. An idea popped into your head which might not have been the safest, yet you convinced yourself that they possibly weren’t murderers. You weren’t in the mood to handle murderers. You took a leap of faith and stepped from your room and walked swiftly to the room to your right, hesitating as you stared at the army green door that was worn from years of abuse and drug raids, probably.  You reluctantly raised your hand as your knuckles collided with the weakened wood, creating the most awful sounding knock ever. Well, it was to you since you had Satan in your head dancing around.               

  A moment passed and the door didn’t budge. Maybe it was a sign from God that these people were murderers and that you shouldn’t bother them? Oh, screw it.             

    As you lifted your hand to knock once again, the door cracked slightly to reveal one green eye peering from the small space. You couldn’t see much of him, but you could tell he was a man of strong stature. You lowered your hand as you prepared your speech. “Hi, uh, I’m Y/N. I was wondering if you could open this bottle. It’s not a homemade bomb or anything, I promise. I just have a headache,” You shook the bottle slightly to show that it was harmless.                 His eye flew to the bottle then it flung back to you. “How many you have in there?” He asked. That’s a weird question. Why would he need Midol? Was he on his period?             

   Your eyebrows creased a little as you struggled not to just flee back into your hotel room out of discomfort and embarrassment. “I-uh. Only two I think…” Your head tilted out of confusion.              

   “Mind if I have those?” He asked quickly as he hand flung out, grabbing the bottle from your weak grasp, and slamming the door shut. You stood there for a moment shocked at had what just taken place. Did he just steal your pills? However, this didn’t phase you completely as you began to bang on the door, ignoring the pain in your head for the moment. You were more pissed off than in pain at this point with your fists colliding with the worn paint, and your foot occasionally kicked the door. With one final kick, the door flung open to reveal the hotel room. A blood trail ran from the door to the bed where another was lying down, his hand over his abdomen as if in pain. His face was contorted in pain as he winced and let out a groan of pain, which was what you heard outside earlier. The man who had stolen your pills emerged from the bathroom with them in his hand and a glass of water in the other. He acknowledged your presence, but continued to move towards the other man as he forced the pills down his throat. The man on the bed gagged slightly, but let the medicine slide down his throat. Most people would run out the door with no question, yet you didn’t. You were a med student, so you weren’t scared of blood and you figured you could use that skill at the moment.               

 Your hand reached out and shut the door as you slid over on the other side of the man. You took off your jacket and laid it across the man’s abdomen as he flinched in pain. The other man looked at you in confusion. “What the hell are you doing?”             

   “I’m a doctor,” You lied. Well, you would be one in a few years. “Do me a favor and grab the pillow cases over there and apply them to this wound as I get some supplies from my car. The man didn’t falter one bit as he ran over and began to undress the feather pillows. You stared at the injured man as his eyes tightened in pain. “Hey,” You said as you rubbed his arm gently and placed his hand on your now ex-jacket. “I know this is gonna suck, but put pressure on your stomach until I get back, okay?” He nodded his head in agreement as you fled the room, grabbed your supplies, and headed back. The healthy man was now attempted to add pressure without injuring him further. You sat the supply box down and began to filter through the instruments. Thank God you kept this for emergencies.                

 “What happened?” You asked as you applied rubber gloves on your hands. If the situation hadn’t been so tense, you could have mistaken it for a prostate exam since you were alone with two men in a room.         

       “Gunshot. Close range. It got him right on his side,” The man explained. “I’m Dean. This is my brother Sam.”               

  You nodded your head to them both as you walked closer to the victim. “Alright, Sam. You have two choices. I can either get Dean to knock you out and you’ll wake up with a terrible headache, or you could stay awake while I remove the bullet. I see no blood underneath you, so the bullet didn’t pass all the way through. If I don’t remove it, you could have complications down the line, like not being able to board planes because you set off the metal detector,” The older brother gazed at you with seriousness draping across his face. “Okie dokie. Not the time for jokes,” You muttered embarrassingly while you began to remove the jacket and pillow cases.          

       “I’ll stay awake-,”            

    “Sammy, are you sure? I have no problem putting your lights out,” Dean admitted as he glared into his brother’s eyes with compassion. Sam nodded his head as his lips pursed with the pain that he was about to experience. “You better know what you’re doing,” He coldly directed towards you.      

           “I could do this in my sleep, sir,” You lied once again. You could actually do it in your sleep if you counted dreams. “Now, Dean, whenever you see blood seep out and bubble up from the wound, I need you to dab it with the pillow cases to absorb the blood so I can see better, okay? Don’t rub,”                You lowered your hands upon the wound, your left hand holding the flashlight and your right with a long pair of tweezers. You gazed around at first to see the damage, but you couldn’t access it. There was too much blood, yet you had to push on anyway. Someone’s life depended on it. You carefully slid the tweezers down into his side, as he moaned slightly. Dean reached over and dabbed the area which thankfully removed some of the blood that bubbled up. As you slowly dug the tweezers in deeper, you finally hit something that was too hard to be an organ or a vein. You watched Sam’s face every time you touched it for a reaction, but there wasn’t any. “This is the part that sucks, Sam,” You confessed as you gazed at him. He was obviously trying to hide the discomfort of having a pair of tweezers in his abdomen. “I found the bullet and now I can extract it. It didn’t hit any organs so it won’t hurt nearly as bad as it would. I’m going to remove it slowly so I don’t cause any excess damage, okay?”             

   Sam nodded as strongly as he could while his hand wrapped around his brother’s in anticipation and anxiety. Dean looked at with you and blinked with reassurance as if he finally had faith in you. You put the flashlight down, grabbed a pillowcase and circled it around the wound that was bound the flood whenever the bullet was removed. You slowly tugged on the bullet which caused Sam to let out a shriek of pain while blood flooded from the hole and enveloped your hand.           

     “Sammy, it’s okay. I promise. She’s doing good. Just pretend you’re a woman and you’re having a baby, alright?” He was trying to soothe his brother, at least. Dean’s eyes swam to yours as he shrugged his shoulders in defense. You shook your head in response and went back to your diligent work. This time, you managed to pluck the bullet even farther out, almost removing it completely. Sam screamed in agony as tears began to stream down his cheeks and onto the fabric beneath him. Dean was also becoming watery-eyed from watching his brother suffer from so much torment.           

      “Okay. This is the last pull, okay?” You reassured as you tightened the tweezers on the bullet once more and removed it from the cavity, leaving a pool of blood behind. You quickly covered the wound with cloth and let the bleeding halt before you sewed him up, ending the doctor visit for good.                 After the needle left his skin for the last time, he moaned faintly, but it was one of relief rather than pain. He stared at you in admiration. “I still hurt like a bitch, but thank you. You know, for saving my life. You’re a good doctor,” He reassured you which caused a small smile to form on your face.                

 “Truth is, I’m not a doctor…” You slid from your gritted teeth as Sam furrowed his brown and Dean swung around in shock. “Guys, I’m kidding! Gosh,” You lied once again, realizing the truth would not help you in this case. “Well, I guess I should go back to my room. If either of you get any more gunshot wounds, just give me a call, or you know, steal my meds again,” You chuckled awkwardly as you began to reach for the door.       

          Dean’s voice broke the air. “Why don’t you bring your stuff over here and hang out with us for a while? We could have a couple drinks and you could keep an eye on your patient,”         

        You placed your hand on the golden doorknob as you bit your lip sweetly and gazed at the man. “Sure. Just let me check on the stab victim in room 304 real quick,” You kidded as you waltzed to your room to grab your things, anticipating to get back to your operating room.

Title: Shitty Situation

Author: constipatedsam

Word Count: 1,066

Based on this

Trigger Warnings: Cursing, Sexual moment

A/N: its funny how my url corresponds with this lmao 

Fic:

      “Dean, that burns!” Your shrill voice pierced the air as it blended with the water falling like a passionate waterfall from the cheap motel shower head. Faint rust stains danced gaily around the holes in the steel that must have been instilled in the head fifty years ago when it was made. Tiles surrounding the tub were peeling off the frayed walls revealing brown muck glued to the ever so chipping paint that decorated the scenery. Other than the grotesque atmosphere, you felt pretty alive to say the least. You were thriving more than the mold within the ancient motel’s structure as you stood in the shower with the man that you had met that night. It wasn’t typical for you to engage in such risky behavior such as going home, or motel really, with a guy you barely knew. You were buzzed enough to where you didn’t really even care that you had caught a fleeting glimpse of an arsenal inside of his retro car’s trunk. He seemed nice enough to not butcher you, and hell, he was hotter than the water raining down on both of your bodies. The warm liquid didn’t even come close to the titillating warmth that felt like a pleasant shot of lava into your veins every time you acknowledged that his body was colliding with yours whether it be his fingertips gliding around the small of your back or your toes slightly nudging each other on the bottom of the tub. Buds of water were shining on his nose as the water splattered around from you recklessly flinging water upon him. He had thought it would be humorous to squirt the motel shampoo all over the shower to add some sort of childish excitement, but instead small droplets of the cleanser had found solace within your eyes. He was smiling to see you so aggravated, yet it made him want to kiss you more. His hands wrapped themselves around your wrists to prevent you from harming him with anymore of the water as he pulled his face onto yours, his lips quenching a thirst that that water never could. His lips were moist from the steam as you felt him force your back onto the wall, your head narrowly missing the shower head. You grinned slightly at the close encounter, but continued to hungrily collide with him. Each time his teeth pulled your bottom lip, you tugged back even harder. His hands found their way to your bum, grasping on tight as he prepared himself for what was bound to come next. A small hop lifted your body up on the wall as you wrapped your legs around his waist, not losing contact with his mouth. His hips made a small gesture as the door to the bathroom slung open with such a great force you thought that it was God himself storming into the bathroom to prevent the premarital sex. Your impromptu hookup immediately let go of you as you harshly slumped down the ground, your previously gripped bottom now encased by the pain of the plastic flooring of the tub colliding with your bones. A small ‘huff’ left your mouth at the sudden drop while the man abruptly pulled the curtain to, blocking any possible vision of you. He turned to poke his head around the other side of the curtain giving you a nice view of his backside. You were scared to death knowing that someone obviously was in the bathroom with you two, but you still managed to admire the wonderful line of sight. The man’s body twisted to where you could see his head crane to glance at whoever it was. All you could see from the corner you were still crouched in was the faint silhouettes of the two people beginning a conversation. The being that had stormed in so furiously was obviously a man but it was hard to defer from where you were because all you could see was the outline of long hair until you heard the unholy sound of what always comes out of men’s bums. It sounded like his intestines were waging a war inside of him as you listened into the encounter, afraid of what was going to happen. 

      “Sammy, you think you could come back later, like, when I’m not taking a shower?” Your date asked, his shoulders moving slightly as his lips pursed. The man on the throne lifted his head up from his phone that he was glaring at so intensely as he relieved himself and met his eyes with him. His mouth dropped open in wonder and his eyes squinted in confusion. His hands faltered as he propped himself up by his elbows leaning on his legs. 

      “What? Do you have a problem with involuntary acts of nature now? I swear to God something is always different with you. Can’t a man just take a nice dump every now and then without being interrupted? I mean, you know how stressful our lives are so I think I deserve this little piece of happiness,” The intruder defended.
      “Well, is this piece of happiness going to be a few pushes and then be over with or are you going to have to chug some milk of magnesia?” The man asked in return. Your stomach churned at the thought of being so close to a complete stranger’s waste.
      “Dean, what’s the hurry? I had Mexican yesterday and you know how that always makes me. Being in the cage doesn’t even come close to that burning sensation,” Sam chuckled as his shoulders shook in the self amusement. “Didn’t you have some Mexican last week? Her name was Maria, right?”
      You immediately launched your foot out as it collided with his ankle causing his figure to falter slightly. His hand struck out to catch himself on the wall next to him to prevent collapsing. Did he do this sort of thing often? How many times has he picked up lonely girls in bars? This hookup was turning shitty. (No pun intended).
      “Alright, fine. I’ll just come back later and do my business. And also, it’s really disrespectful to hide your girl in the corner of the shower like that,” Sam spoke as he slid from the bathroom, leaving you alone with your date once again.
      You tilted your head up as Dean looked down to you. “Maria, huh?”

Title: Making Up the Lost Memories

Author: huntinghellhound

Word Count: 1149

Original Imagine/Request/Summary: Maybe you could do an imagine where the reader was raised in a military style family and that she didn’t have a childhood and that her childhood was worse than theirs. They find out bc they see a picture of her in her room in a military outfit complete with the military bun and they try to do childhood things like the floor is lava and coloring and little kids movies? Thxs bb and keep charging through that cycle!!! We can gt through it together I promis (thank you and periods are a pain in the ass tbh)
Trigger Warnings: Mention of blood, An attack

A/N: I made the parent that was in the army the mother since it wasn’t specified. Also, POWER TO WOMEN.
Fic:

                As you sat on your bed, your head was filled with endless thoughts of many pointless things. You were wondering how did your life end up here since you lead such a different path than what was expected. You guessed it wasn’t all too different because there were some similarities in your line of work and the road you were supposed to drive down. You saved people every day, whether it was fighting off Wendigoes or helping someone deal with a loss that resulted in the supernatural. You had to be brave a majority of the time and expect things to jump out and attack you, keep your eyes constantly peeled. Your parent’s battlefield was a desert of sand and battling other humans, but your battlefield was everywhere you went, including your own thoughts. Creations in your head of you finally slipping up on a hunt one day would enter your head, but you tried to shove them out. Seeing the things you see every day and fighting the things that would pick a fight with you could really scar someone, but your family lineage proved you to be strong enough. Even the men that you lived with, Sam and Dean, grew up in a military family even though their father was retired. He taught them the way of guns, knives, and physical warfare just like you. Of course, your family wasn’t on a constant hunt for a demon, but your childhood was similar to theirs if not worse. You barely knew your own mother since she was constantly on the job and when she would come home, she was obsessed to get back to her camp. Her work had become her life, not her family. Your mind was shot back to your surroundings as a stranger’s fist rapped on the door to be let in. You shouted that you were decent, and Dean walked in with Sam trailing behind him. They both seemed like they were about to be the bearers of bad news, so you stood from your bed and walked to them slowly. You crossed your arms out of habit as Sam did the same and gave you a small smile. “We just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Dean lightly spoke, his words barely falling off of his pink lips. You knew exactly what they were talking about. You had gotten back from a hunt yesterday and it didn’t start or end too well. You all were hunting a Rugaru which was supposed to be an easy hunt since you had taken down so many before, but things went south. It had torn open some of the skin on your chest that was over your heart and you could feel the warmth of your own blood start to coat your midsection. The being had extreme strength due to it’s species, so neither Sam nor Dean could get him off of your body as he started to bite into your neck. The sound of your own piercing screams shook you to your core and felt like they would always haunt your ears. The brothers were finally able to get him off by setting him on fire since that was the only way to kill him, but some of the flames reached your legs before he peeled himself away. Your limbs weren’t too bad off, but they still ached slightly from the
burn.

                “Yeah, I’m fine,” You lied as you nodded your head encouragingly. You tugged your shirt over the bite to hide it as to not worry them anymore, but their eyes both seemed regretful because they didn’t get there in time. At least they got there before you were eaten alive, right? Dean stole his eyes away from yours as they drifted over to your night stand where a single picture sat, looking like it hadn’t been touched in ages. He slid past you and picked it up as he examined every feature of the photograph. A small grin forced its way through his frown as he took in the look of you when you were around six. You were donning a military outfit, your hair in a bun and all. You were smiling widely, but it was a forced one.

                “This is cute,” Dean laughed as he changed the subject and showed the photo to Sam as he chuckled at your look. You tore the polaroid away from Dean’s fascinated fingers and looked at it yourself. “You look like you were having a good time,”

                “It looks that way,” You muttered as you tried to look away from the picture, but you couldn’t. Sam and Dean looked at you with confused expressions. “It’s just… we were always moving around. I never really got settled, anyway. I barely even knew my mom, you know. I didn’t get to be a little kid, not even once,” You admitted as you placed the photo back down on the table as the brothers glared at you. Sam shared a mischievous gaze with Dean as he turned to face you with a sly grin. “What?”

                “Come with me,” He announced as he let his hand out for you to grab and you did so, pleasing your conductor. He forced you to the living room and led you up to the couch which was diagonal with the one that you two were standing on. “Okay, the floor is lava,”

                “Sam, I’m pretty sure that’s carpeting,” You declared as you pointed towards the flooring. Sam chuckled and then went back to his explanation.

                “Y/N, it’s a game! You have to leap to the other couch and make sure that you don’t touch the floor. You’re supposed to do it with pillows, but we never exactly decorated the place,” He laughed as he interlocked one of his hands with yours and you both jumped to the other side. The impact of both of your bodies hitting the love seat caused it to tip over as you both rolled on the floor, laughing until your faces turned red. You sat up off the ground and started to chortle with Sam even more. Dean walked in holding coloring books that you recognized. You had bought them for Kevin when he still lived there for breaks from the tablet. The oldest brother sat them down on a coffee table as he shoved a DVD into a machine that they had purchased to past time at the bunker when they stayed. The beginning of The Little Mermaid started to play as he waved for you and Sam to come over and join him. You had missed out on a bunch of stuff in your childhood, but it seemed worth it know. You would have been jumping from couch to couch by yourself then, but now you were able to do it with two of the people in your life who mattered the most: Sam and Dean.

Title: Witches Get Stitches
Author: huntinghellhound

Word Count: 1560

Original Imagine/Request/Summary: So maybe a witch or a trickster or something cursed the reader act like she needs to kill (like dean with the blade) but she doesnt have control so she tries killing sam and dean. Finally after fighting her off they take her to bobbys and lock her in the panic room. Its really painful for the curse to be reversed.. - rock—station

Trigger Warnings: Death, Torture, Cussing

A/N: The Latin translates to “Set free the evil from this vessel for she is not what she has been made to be”
Fic:

                “Witches get stitches, bitch,” Dean mocked while keeping a calm composer. He was standing in front of the woman as she was strapped to her own chair, bound with duct tape. You would have used rope, but Dean got drunk the other night and had the fantasy of being Pico Bill so he turned it into a makeshift lasso and lost it. The woman who was strapped down, Michelle, was the type of person you never wanted to come across. She had the eyes of the snake which matched her personality; she was vicious. That soul had killed three people in the past week since she had discovered dark magic through the helpful hand of a demon. One of her helpless victims had their heart melt inside their body, another had their brain explode, and the other citizen fell to all of her organs fading to dust.

                “I may get stitches, but hunters die, asshole,” Her words fell from her evil mouth as easily as a demon takes a soul. Dean started to chuckle as he turned away from the witch and walked towards you. You had been leaning on one of the archways in the corner just observing, but you knew that you were about to be involved. He pulled a knife out his back pocket and held it out for your greedy hands to take. He knew that you had always been skillful with a knife; it was like a natural born ability to slice and stab things-evil things. Normally, you wouldn’t agree to torture someone, but when someone’s life is in danger you wouldn’t hesitate. The witch’s soul was barely human at this point since she had corrupted so much of it already. You reluctantly pulled the knife from your partners hand and strolled your way over to the witch. “Oh, so you send killer Barbie to finish the job because you couldn’t? I’d rather die at the hand of a woman, anyway. They’re not as stupid as men,” She laughed.

                You crouched down so you were level with her hands that were strapped down. You twirled the knife in your hands for a few seconds, then began your bloody project. You were accustomed to maiming monsters and things that go bump in the night, so it was a little disturbing for yourself to torture someone of your own species. You grasped the handle tightly, and shoved the pointed tip of the blade underneath one of her fingernails. She let out a deafening scream from the sharp pressure that overtook her hand as you felt your insides churn. “Tell us where Sam is,” You ordered as she began taking sharp breaths at the pain.

                “Fine! There’s a warehouse over on Diven Boulevard. He’s on the second floor knocked out in one of the offices,” She admitted. You pulled the knife out of her nail bed harshly as you stood and walked over to Dean.

                “Dean, I can’t kill her. She’s human!” You revealed, handing him back the bloody knife. He nodded his head in agreement, his conscience taking over. He wanted to gank the son of a bitch, but your decision to not kill her had proven to him that you shouldn’t. He took the blade and shoved it back in the pocket from which it came and walked over to the captive.

                “See you later, Sabrina,” He saluted as he waltzed from the home and you followed in his steps. His muscular body was outlined by the moonlight that was shining outside and you used his body as a marker for where the sidewalk was. “You think she was telling the truth about where Sammy is at?”

                You jogged so you could catch up to the fast walking man as you both slid into the Impala. “Well, if she’s not, we know where to find her,” You comforted. As Dean started up the car, you prayed the Sam was alright and also that a woman scorned from a knife being shoved under her manicure wasn’t too dangerous.

                “Y/N? Are you okay?” Sam’s voiced sounded more like an echo that someone who was standing right next to you. It had been a couple hours since you had saved Sam from the warehouse and sure you were sleepy, but this was more than just fatigue. You sat down on the motel bed and put your face in your hands as you moaned from a rupturing headache traveling through your brain. Sam sat down next to you and put his hand on your back and started rubbing relaxing circles. His touch felt good, but it didn’t help your pain at all. You slouched next to him, his arm taking you in as he held you in his arms. He left a small peck on your head as the pain radiated further, then abruptly stopped. Your eyes shot open, and you felt something knew inside you. It wasn’t like that small burst of energy you get when pains suddenly ends and you feel like a ray of happiness. It was more of a drive- a drive to destruct and wound and you knew that stomping a couple of roaches wouldn’t be your fix. You pulled your head up from Sam’s chest and stared at him while you fit your hand on the back of his neck lovingly. He gave you a small smile as he neared his face. He fixed his lips, prepared to combine his with yours when you put your other hand on his neck, creating ring with the other. You applied pressure to your deadly grasp as you forced his body onto his back as you sat over him. His eyes lit up in shock and terror as he threw his hands up to your elbows and knocked your hands off of his windpipes. He shoved you off the bed, which made your hunger for death grow stronger. You grabbed the pistol off of the night stand and cocked it, getting ready to strike down your target until you were tackled and forced on the floor. Dean was sitting on top of you as you struggled to break free. “Knock her out!” Sam yelled. The last thing you saw with the butt of the gun closing in on your head.

                “Bobby, that’s not Y/N. I’m telling you it’s not. She attacked Sammy; she almost killed him!” You could hear Dean’s voice through the cracks of the panic room door. You knew you were at Bobby’s house because you had trapped many creatures in this place before, but you never thought that you would become one of them. Rage filled you once again as you started to tear apart the room to find anything that would work as a weapon, but nothing was located. You sat down on the steel bed that filled the room, and you waited. You waited for an opportunity to kill-an opportunity to torture. The door tore open as Dean, Sam, and Bobby joined your desolate cell. Bobby grabbed you and fit your hands into the cuffs that were attached to the wall. You tried your best to fight him off, but he wouldn’t give. Dean and Sam laid out many different ingredients on the steel bed that had held your body only moments ago and began to murmur to each other as different ones were thrown into a bowl. Dean broke away from his brother and stood in front of you, gazing into your eyes helplessly. He was torn seeing you strapped up like monster, feeling like he should torture like he had always done when a killer was trapped in your position. He pulled the knife that you had tortured the witch with earlier, and cut across your hand as he caught your newly freed blood in a jar and dumped it into the bowl. Sam started to chant in Latin, his words feeling like knives stabbing you over and over again. A sharp pain shot through your chest and head, stronger than what you had felt earlier. It felt like needles were traveling through your veins and knicking every piece of flesh that the sharp objects could get their hands on. You went to let out a scream, but Bobby shoved a rag in your mouth to keep you quiet because none of them could stand to hear you scream like that.

                “Dimitte, quod non est malum, quia ex hoc vase facta esse,” Sam continued to chant as the pain grew stronger with every syllable that was spoken. You felt tears form in your eyes from the pain, along with the fact that you could feel your old self return. It was like swapping in your soul for a brand new one, but the process was a hell to go through. As soon as Sam stopped speaking, that pain halted and your body felt like it had been set free from all of it’s pain and worry. You tilted your head down and took in deep breaths to refill your body with oxygen from losing so much of it while you were yelping for help.

                “Get me out of these cuffs, you son of a bitch. I don’t want to miss the series finale on my favorite show,” You finally muttered, still trying to catch your breath. Sam and Dean smiled at each other, knowing that they’re honorary sister was back.

Title: Ghost Players

Author: huntinghellhound

Word Count: 2203

Original Imagine/Request/Summary: I was wondering if you could do a one shot were the reader is the Winchesters little sister and they’re on a hunt when they run into the ghost facers who flirt with the her whole time and she takes care if it for a while until they get touchy and sam and Dean walk in on her trying to get them off her and they freak out? Love ya btw

Trigger Warnings: Sexual harassment, Cursing, Violence, Mention of a mental hospital

A/N: Thank you for requesting this. I had a lot of fun writing it. (:

Fic:

                When you pulled up to the asylum, eeriness and just down right ‘go away or you will die’ was written all over it. Shingles on the roof were barely hanging on as they slid with the wind that was knocking them senseless. The shutters on the outside were worn from that many vacant years that had gone by and vandalism that they had faced. A few windows had jagged holes and cracks in them from the local kids throwing rocks at the place in boredom, and one of the windows was a complete shamble acting as an open entry way into the mental hospital. The lawn was extremely unkempt with a wild willow out front expanding its giant limbs which resulted in a long, faint shadow that took dominance on the dead grass. The sky was grey, matching the vibe of total ‘monster movie’ that shook from the old building. You opened the door to the Impala and stuck your foot in the parking lot as your brothers followed in your steps. You three walked along the plain sidewalk that lead to the front door, taking in the scenery even more. Dean had yanked out his EMF reader, and the machine seemed as if it was going to explode from all the activity. Sam passed out salt and crowbars to make sure all of you were armed and ready for whatever the spirits were planning on doing to keep you out. You pushed your hands on the front door handle, which surprisingly wasn’t locked as you three walked in.

                “Oh, God,” Dean muttered as he grimaced and covered his nose. Sam just frowned at the smell and began to walk off on his own mission. Something had definitely died in this building recently, but you weren’t sure if it was human or not. Over the past couple of weeks, bodies kept turning up at the asylum. Each of them were found with nooses around their necks, but evidence suggested that none of them were suicides. It seemed up your alley, so you took the case against Bobby’s advice. “I’ll take the west wing, Sammy get the east, and you can take upstairs, okay? Make sure you call if you see anything,”

                You rolled your eyes and waved your crow bar at him in goodbye and marched up the stained, ancient stairs. They creaked under every step you took, which you were sure had to be alerting some of the ghosts of a physical presence. When you made your appearance on the second story, you began searching for any sort of spiritual evidence. “Here, ghosty, ghosty,” You whispered into the air as you held your crowbar tightly across your body. Your eyes were dodging in every corner to make sure you weren’t overlooking a thing, until a scream rang out in the damp air which stole your attention away. It was a man’s voice you were sure of, which sent a ping of fear through your body as you ran back down in the direction of the voice. “Sam? Dean?” You boomed while your heart raced in your chest, but your legs were faster than your organs beating. Every possible scenario ran through your head at what could have possibly gone wrong. Images of Sam being thrown out one of the windows and fatally hitting the glass passed through along with a fragment of Dean having his heart ripped out by a dead angry patient. These thought’s only inspired you to run faster, harder. As you made it down the stairs, you saw Dean standing with his crowbar raised in the air, looking down at a body on the floor that was still breathing. Sam had his face in his hands with worry and annoyance, his shirt wrinkling from his slouching. You strode next to your brothers and looked down at the body with wonder and interest, not knowing who it was. You kicked the body lightly to make sure it wouldn’t respond, and it didn’t.

                “Who the hell is this?” You spoke out. Your brothers looked to each other with irritation, and then back at you. Dean prepared to explain, but then yet another man you didn’t know wandered from one of the corridors. He was stout, light brown hair and a messy beard outlining his pudgy face. He had goggles over his eyes and some sort of utility belt strapped around his waist as he hurriedly jogged over to the group. Another man followed from the shadows with expensive looking equipment hung over his shoulder, including a large camera.

                “Harry!” He yelled out with worry as he crouched down and inspected the unconscious body. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you aware that a private paranormal investigation is taking place here?” He began as he stood up and poked Dean in the chest menacingly. It was hard to see everyone’s face in the darkness, but you could guess that your eldest brother was seconds away from knocking out yet another person. “I mean, you could have killed him! You could have-,” His rant was cut short as Dean pulled a flashlight from his back pocket, aimed it under his own face, and turned it on. The man’s previously angered finger yanked itself away at Dean’s frown, afraid of getting bitten off by the obviously irritated hunter. Sam took his flashlight out as well and shone it on the short man’s face, exposing his features to the light.

                “Oh, hi Sam and Dean,” He nervously chuckled as he took a few steps back. The camera man zoomed in even closer, making sure to include the brothers in the shot. “Didn’t know you guys were in town,”

                “Oh, we’re just passing through. We’re visiting the local Hooter’s, going to the state park, and getting your asses the hell out here,” Sam’s scolding was originally soft and soothing, but escalated to annoyance and aggravation as he shook his finger towards the scared man.

                “Sam, lay off,” You intervened as you took a step into the man’s line of sight. His pupils widened at your sudden entrance, his heart pounded and little faster, and something else also grew at your appearance.

                “Hi, I’m Ed Zeddmore,” He coolly said as he stuck his hand out for you to shake, which you obliged, but his hand lingered longer on yours than you hoped. You yanked your hand away and looked straight into the camera, but flung your hand up over your eyes to protect them from the light omitting from the machine. The guy behind the camera waved shyly at you while you returned the hello and turned back towards your brothers.

                “What’s going on?” You interrogated them. Sam let a sigh wander from his lips as he rolled his eyes at Ed and turned to face you.

                “Y/N, these are self-proclaimed ghost hunters who believe they save people’s lives, but really are just putting their own in danger,” He explained.

                “Sammy, isn’t that what we do?” Dean interjected with a look of confusion on his face. Ed had his eyes locked on you, totally forgetting his knocked out friend on the floor.

                “Well, yeah, but we’re more clean about it and don’t pick fights that we can’t handle,” Sam sassed as he took a few steps away from the scene and walked off to lower his temper. Dean followed suit as they discussed quietly on what to do with the situation, which left you with the man with an apparent staring problem.

                “Listen, you may be scared and all in this place, but I want you to know that I’m here for you, for anything,” He flirted, trying to form a smoulder. He stuck his hands out and placed them on both of your shoulders, reassuring you. All of the lessons that your brothers and father had taught you about self-defense took control over your body and took care of the situation. Your right arm went over his arm and under his other one as you twisted them around your own which sent him flying backwards. Your foot flung out and kicked him in the abdomen, earning you a grunt as you watched him fall to the ground in pain. The camera man who had recorded the entire thing took a few steps back to avoid your wrath. You walked over to your courter, bent down to his level and looked him in the eyes with a mischivious smirk on your face.

                “Listen, you may be scared and all in this place, but I want you to know that I will kick your ass if you try anything like that again. You understand me?” You ordered him with sternness soaking each word that flowed from your lips. He nervously nodded his head in comprehension and stood up while Sam and Dean were making their way back over to you.

                “Okay, Zeddmore. We’ll let you and your little crew stay here,” Dean explained in disgust as he looked annoyingly into the camera. Even though he was frustrated, you could have sworn you saw him try do his ‘Blue Steel’ face. “But if you mess up even one time, just know it’s not going to be only me and Sam who kick your ass. The dead patients and murder victims will form a line and take tickets which we will sell personally to get a piece of you for disturbing their place, okay?” Ed nodded in understanding as Harry began to wake up in the middle of the confrontation. He looked up and saw the two hunters who he already knew, and looked like he was about to pass out again from the recognition. He stood up nervously on his weak legs as Ed helped to balance him. He wasn’t too strong, so you had to interfere and help prop up the newly awakened man.

                “Oh, Harry, buddy. I thought Mike and Sulley over here really killed you this time,” He muttered as he let you take on the full weight of the man. You rolled your eyes towards Sam as he raised his eyebrows in understanding.

                “Y/N, how about you baby sit these two while Dean and I inspect the place,” Sam suggested, already walking off to not even hear your answer. He and Dean strode away, leaving you with the creepy men.

                “So, how’d a pretty girl like you get mixed up with those two? They’re practically psycho-killers. I’m surprised they haven’t sacrificed you to Lucifer or something yet. They’re crazy,” Ed broke the silence as Harry stared at you with admiration. His dark hair blended in with the background as his bright eyes popped out, scanning you up and down.

                “They’re my brothers,” You stated, looking off into the distance so you wouldn’t be provoked to attack either of them by just their faces. You let your grip on Harry go as he was able to stand on his own by then, and you took a seat on the floor. Harry and Ed followed your actions which made it seem like you all should have been at a summer camp singing ‘Kumbaya, My Lord’ while roasting marshmallows over a fire. “And they did try to sacrifice to old Lucy as bait, but he didn’t bite,”

                Ed and Harry laughed at what they thought was a clever joke, but you were honestly telling the truth. Harry looked at Ed in an odd way as he nodded his head in agreement. They both scooted closer to you and you could almost feel the imprint of smothering mothers that had made them both over confident with women. “Listen, Y/N. Harry and I both find you pretty attractive,”

                “You don’t say?” The camera man murmured to himself, but you had to struggle to hide your smirk.

                “And Dean and Sam aren’t going to be back for a while, so we were thinking you might want to do something, or someone,” He smiled as he brought his face closer to yours. You put your hand on his chest to push him off, but he took it as an invitation to pursue his fantasy further.

                “Sam! Dean!” You yelled out in urgency as you struggled to get the heavy man off of you. Your brothers came dodging through the corridor quickly and as soon as they saw what was going on, Dean didn’t hesitate to march his way over there and sling the crowbar over the other ghost facer, knocking him out. You pushed the plump man off of you and onto the floor as Dean helped you up onto your feet.

                “Sammy, go get the rope and duct tape out of the trunk, please,” He muttered as he scanned Harry for any sign of proof that he touched you as well.

                “What do you need those for?” You asked him, confusingly.

                “If he thinks he’s a man because he forces a girl to do something they don’t want to, then it’ll really prove his manly hood to be made to do something he doesn’t want to do: stay the night in this place strapped to a chair,” Dean answered as he plucked the unconscious body from the ground and carried him off, looking for the perfect seat.

Title: Tag Teamed
Author: huntinghellhound
Word Count: 778
Original Imagine/Request/Summary: You should write a fic about Sam and Dean picking the reader up from school, and they try to embarrass her but she just goes along with it. Thank you!!! -@thehuntress00

Trigger Warnings: Public embarrassment
A/N: I was listening to the pop hits of the 90’s radio on Pandora when writing this, so if it came out a little cliché 90’s movie in some places, im sorry!

Fic:

                As the bell rung for dismissal, your heart fluttered at the thought of finally being released from such a hellacious environment. I mean, who came up with the idea of school? The tasteless brick walls had boredom almost seeping out from their unrepaired cracks from shenanigans that took place in the hallways. You could nearly smell the lack of motivation and anxiety wreaking off of your fellow stressed students as many of them ran past you and into the large double doors to their freedom. It seemed like the florescent lights had taken control of your eyes since the natural light stung like alcohol on a cut. You threw your hand up over your eyes to protect your from the harsh ways as you stood on the sidewalk, waiting for your older brothers to pick you up. You had told them that you were fine riding the bus, but after they had gone on a hunt where a demon possessed the driver and crashed the giant vehicle, they absolutely forbade it. You stood in the heat while clutching your notebooks to your chest, looking out for your ride until you saw one of them standing to the side. The eldest brother had his arm propped on the brick outline of the school, a senior underneath it as she became putty in his hands. He gave her a smile when he noticed that you had located him, and made his way over to you. Many of your new classmates scanned the obviously older man with confusion as you became their main focus of attention since you clearly knew him.

                “I saw you met Tracy,” You muttered as you gave Dean a judgmental look and rolled your eyes at him. Dean was twenty six, Sam was twenty two, and you were fifteen. Tracy was eighteen, so you weren’t too surprised to see him going after someone younger. You were just taken off guard that he would even be at your school. “What are you doing here, anyway? I don’t see the Impala,”

                “Her name’s Tracy? And Sammy’s bringing her. You didn’t really think that we would leave you at a new school by yourself on the first day, did you?” He joked as he playfully, yet awkwardly patted you on the head. You gave him a menacing glare at the embarrassing sign of affection as you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. You wished you could just jump into one of your text books and disappeared. You would have even settled for a demon attack to distract from you.

                “So, how’d today go? Any boys pique your interest? Or girls? I think fifteen is the age a lot of people figure out what they’re into, ya know? So, which piece of the gender cake do you wanna take a bite from?” Dean boosted loudly as a few people standing close enough to hear the interaction let out muffled giggles as they murmured comments to their catty friends.

                “I’d rather not take a bite at all, and shove both pieces down your throat,” You shot back quickly as he threw his hands up in apology.

                “What’s his name?” The brother continued as an entertained smile broke through his lips. You took a few steps away from him to prevent any more damage to your already small reputation, but he just scooted closer.

                “His first name is shut, and his last name is up. And shouldn’t you be more worried about what piece you’d shove down your throat with that angel and all? ” You retorted as you didn’t even turn to look at him, but you knew that he knew to stop. Right before he had the chance to respond, the Impala pulled up to the curb, it’s speed cruising faster than it should have which resulted in a sudden stop that caused the driver to lunge forward. Sam had an unnaturally oversized burger shoved in his greedy mouth while his open was grasped the steering wheel. Castiel sat in the back seat, peering out of the window like a puppy, making sure everyone saw him. Metallica was blasting from the sound system since it was the last CD entered into the machine, so that resulted in the staring from strangers once again.  

                “Hey Y/N! The pharmacist called and said your ointment wouldn’t be ready until Tuesday. Just make sure you don’t wear any low cut tops or chaffy bra’s till we solve the problem,” Your brother boomed loudly enough for everyone to hear as a sly smile played across his face. You looked at Dean with a sudden realization of what was going on.

                “You two are in on this together, aren’t you? You’re tag teaming me!” You sputtered out as Dean started to laugh uncontrollably, his giggles louder than every passing care. You punched him in the arm and quickly dove into the car, dreading the next day.