Hide (Spain x Reader)Nowadays, he almost finds himself yearning to retch at the pitiful, deplorable sight of her, despising all that she does, reviling all those clean and unaware simplicities she employs, all that familiar silk in her words. There are the constant, guileless smiles, and the ways in which she’ll still make careful observances of his weary, trembling condition, bewildered at where it all went wrong and Antonio began losing his mind. How can she possibly come to understand, after all, why he lingers further into the night's dregs than any other man of his age, without alcohol to pry open his eyelids and prolong his stare? How can she understand why it is that he'd rather have the Devil at his throat than her unassuming, excruciating presence?by autumn--thunder
He has no idea, no singular semblance of a coherent, passing thought that may allow him to begin, nor sufficiently comprehend what he has undergone in the time since he once lived, which of course comes to lead into dread,
The Panic Room (A Supernatural One-Shot)“Dean…? Dean?”by kuri-osity
The name felt like lead on Sam’s tongue, so thick and heavy that he wasn’t sure if the syllable had actually made it past his lips.
The only reason he was aware of something cutting into his neck was the trail of red that was marking a small pathway against the stark fabric of his shirt. The dark suit and tie that usually accompanied the white-collared look were missing, but he couldn’t remember why.
His brother’s name seemed to drop soundlessly into the dark space before him. Everything felt heavy. Dull. Maybe he was dreaming.
But dreams shouldn’t smell of dust and abandonment. They shouldn’t be framed by cobwebs and wallpaper so aged that their floral design has faded into funeral bouquets. They shouldn’t have flickering candlelight and robed figures looking down on you.
No, dreams shouldn’t be like that.
But Winchesters don’t have dreams. They have nightmares. Sam smile