Supernatural Oneshots/Imagines

<beauty and the beast> (sam x werewolf! reader)

Summary: You and Sam met during middle school when his dad was off on a job. You became very close, you both had the same interests and ideas of the future awaiting you. One night, while at home watching tv, your house was broken into. You managed to slip past a large, lumbering man who you had witnessed kill your mother. Hunters. While fleeing your home, you came face to face with one of the hunters. It was Sam. To your surprise, he let you go. You grow up, and you keep the secret of what you really are hidden under livestock and animal hearts, until your cover is blown.

*smut warning*

It's been 17 years since you had last seen the Winchesters. For someone like you, such a thing should be comforting. But truthfully, you were only relieved that you hadn't seen their father or the oldest Winchester boy. Even when you were in school he was a douche. He acted as if his education was something that was worth less then a penny and was the ultimate teenage fuck boy stereotype. His brother however? He was an entirely different person. Sam was a quiet and secluded boy. You often told him he was the wallflower of his family. When Sam and Dean had came to your school, Sam was placed in all of the same classes as you. Being an introvert, mostly because of the life you and your mother lived, you didn't have many friends. People often labeled you the 'weird kid' or the 'loner'. This was because you didn't speak to any of the other kids and preferred investing your time in novels or drawing. So, when Sam joined your classes, you hung back to see what he was like. He was as quick as a whip and was much more intelligent and interesting then the rest of the boys your age. After you had decided to speak up and approach him, you found yourself talking to each other about the books you had read and the places you've seen and what your futures looked like. The one thing you and Sam really bonded over was your equally as hectic home lives. You both moved around a lot, and you both seemed to despise the 'family business'. Of course, you didn't know that Sam's family business was hunting. Just as much as he didn't know that your family business was jumping people and heart stealing. Often times you and Sam would head to the local library after school and talk about anything and everything. You also went on walks and exchanged weekends hanging out with eachother at your living areas. When you were hanging out with him at the motel he was staying at for the time being or at your mothers, you would watch movies and shows. And surprisingly, Disney princess movies. This shocked you, of course, because why would a boy like Sam enjoy such things?
Your thoughts are disrupted by the burning hunger in your stomach. You heaved a sigh and pulled yourself off of the soft cushioning of your couch, leaning forward to grab the remote and pause the show you were watching. Despite what most of your species believed, human life was really something. Other bitten or lycanthropes would often complain at how simple it was, as if they wanted their life to be more challenging. You knew many others like this. You mother was one. She wasn't born into the werewolf life. She was turned when she was around the age you were right now, when she had entered her early twenties. She always talked to you about how boring the life you two were forced to live was. She didn't occupy herself with hunting humans, at first. But her need for something more exciting and blood pumping was to uncontrollable. When you had entered 8th grade, your mother began returning home far past the ideal time. Often past midnight. You associated the missing persons with your mother. It made sense. During those years she grew harsher, more volatile and wild. Thinking back on it you could feel the hairs prickle against your clothing. You were born into your life, so perhaps it was just simpler to hold back the instincts buried within you. You preferred the simple life humans lived. Perhaps it was more of a struggle with your larger, bloodier appetite. But you made it by, satisfying your urges with hunting the wildlife outside of your cozy secluded cabin and preserving what you harvested.
You walked around the bend and into your kitchen, twisting around the corner. You reached out to the fridge, grabbing the raw steak you set out the day prior. You set it aside and reached up to your cabinet to pull out a large plate. You place it on the counter and smack the steak onto the porcelain. While you did use utensils, you didn't feel like doing such a thing. You decided to let yourself be lazy for today.
You grabbed the plate and sauntered back into the living room. You let your eyes scan over the walls in which you decorated in pages of poetry and paintings. You smile. You loved the cozy little home you made for yourself, even if it was only you who inhabited it. You sat yourself back on the plush and worn cushions as you pulled the coffee table closer. You leaned over the table and set the plate down, taking the raw slab of meat into your hands before digging in. You eyes wandered carefully over the illuminated screen of your tv as the theme-song of 'Friends' fills the silent room. You smile and lean further over your plate at you finish the rest of the steak.
You brought your fingers to your lips and cleaned your nails and skin from any residue of your meal. You heave out a sigh as you hoist yourself to your feet and leave to clean off your face and plate. You yet again round the bend into the kitchen and saunter over to the sink. Grabbing the dish rag and turning on the water, you ran the dry clothe beneath it till the faded pink fabric darkened and the water absorbed. You then move the spout and run the water over your plate as you bring the cloth over your bloodied face and lips. Once your sure your face is cleaned you begin to pour the lavender scented soap over the plate and clean off the residue with the rag. Just as your scrubbing the last of the blood from the plate a shrill and high pitched scream erupts from the dense forestation outside of your cabin. Your hair stands on end and you rush your hand out to turn the water off. You throw the wet towel into the sink and scramble across the linoleum flooring. You dash out of the kitchen, into the living room and then out of the door. You stand still at the end of the porch for a moment, hair on end as you lifted your nose into the cool night air. Letting your jaw fall you draw in the woody scents. Grass, dirt, bark... fear.
Your legs bunch and you propel yourself down the stairs. Clinging onto the scent like holy hell you race against the driveway, gravel and rocks crunching under your bare feet, adrenaline swallowing the pain of the skin tearing against the rough terrain. You veer off of the worn pathway and cut into the woods. You thank god for the instincts you manage to keep at bay, and that they manage to come of use. There is another guttural shriek, and even with the blood pumping through your ears you can hear a set of footprints clamber off. The scent you held onto intertwined with one of a deep metallic warmth. Blood. Your legs scream and beg to give out under your weight. You kept in shape, always, but your instincts did other things except for saving, which you rarely did. The reason your legs threatened to buckle and your blood began to boil was the sheer need you got from such a chase. The need to have whatever prey the predator was taking to be yours. This, is what you damn god for. You were a willful person, and you easily kept your needs at bay. But that doesn't mean you don't have them.
The enticing scent grows closer and stronger until you find yourself standing above a trembling and bloodied young woman. You feel your eyes dilate and your teeth unsheathe. The woman lets out another bellowing scream as she watches you. You lift your hands and will your teeth to sheathe. You kneel down at her side and peel your jacket over your disgruntled figure.
"Hey, hey, I'm the kind that doesn't bite." You nod, gently taking her hands away from the flooding wound on her stomach. There's a large gash against her head and her stomach is nearly torn out. She wasn't going to live. And if there was some chance she did the poor woman would never be the same. Despite the fact that her blood wasn't on your hands, the horrible fear you felt at being the fang who was kneeling over this dying woman was unfathomable.
"Shh, shh," you tear a sleeve off of the jacket and reach up to wrap it around the gash on her head as you use the jacket to try and keep the blood from pooling out of her intestines, "your okay. Your gonna be just fine."
The woman nods slowly.
"I'm (y/n). And no, you aren't crazy, that thing was exactly what you thought it to be." You nod, feigning a laugh for the trembling woman.
"What's your name hun?" You spoke gently. The least you could do is let this woman feel at least somewhat at peace during her final moments.
"It's Annalae. My name.. is Annalae." Her voice quirks at the end, her tone becoming unusually monotone and flat.
"Well that's the most beautiful name I've ever heard, Annalae." You smile warmly. You press your jacket against her wound.
"The stars are beautiful." She almost whispers.
"They are, they really are." Tears begin to stain your cheeks.
"My daughter loves the stars." She whispers.
You feel your heart drop into your stomach and your mouth become dry.
"Annalae, I'm going to-"