guy with the white chin

Request: Water Buddy

Request: There’s 12 minutes left of Wednesday and I want to use 2 of those minutes to request a Sam x Reader imagine involving mermaids! Doesn’t matter if she’s a mermaid, or if they’re working on a case that involves mermaids, anything you’d like. I just think it’d be super cool. Please and thank you :)

Word Count: 1,512

This was really cool because we don’t have a massive amount of lore from the show on mermaids, so I kinda just made it up as I went along. I hope you like it, and thank you!<33

“Sam?” You ask, looking over at your boyfriend. You’ve been poring over these books for what seems like forever and you’ve only now had an idea.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look up from the dusty old tome you’d recovered form a back corner of the library that hadn’t been touched in decades.

“Are we looking at mermaids here?”

That grabs his attention. He looks up at you, his brow quickly furrowing.

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. Guys – usually young, between twenty and thirty-five, leaving clubs with pretty girls. The next morning, they appear, drowned. I know you were suspecting some kind of siren and a lot of it’s the same mythology, but…” You trail off, and Sam shrugs.

“It makes sense. I’ve just never heard of mermaids being real.”

“There are a lot of things we’ve never heard of,” You say optimistically, “And it’s the only lead we’ve got.”

“You’re right. Let’s get digging.”


You spend the next hour trawling through the records in the library, gathering all of the information you can on mermaids – where they come from (Syria) and how to kill them (with a man-made metal) and where they like to hang out (dark, damp places, but they won’t live in slums). You make it out of the library, before realising that you’re nearly out of steel bullets.

“You go on ahead, get Dean caught up, and I’ll stop by that little ammo shop.” You tell Sam. He kisses you gently before agreeing, walking off in the opposite direction. You go the other way, heading down to the ammo shop – the place closes in a half hour, so you hurry slightly, wanting to get back to the motel before nightfall. At this time of night, the dusk is just beginning to creep in.

You head into the shop and a bell chimes at your entrance. You attract the attention of the guy behind the counter – your stereotypical middle-aged white guy with whiskers dotting his chin. He smiles slightly as he sees you.

“Hey, darlin’. Need some help?”

You look over the racks of bullets on the wall, and shake your head.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

You head over in that direction, and begin looking for the right bullets.

“Know what you’re doing?”

“Sure do.” You offer him a smile, “I grew up hunting.”

“With your pops?”

“Sure, and grandpops too.” You say – might as well throw him off track a little, “I sometimes still do a bit with my boyfriend and his brother.”

He smiles, coming up behind you.

“What are you looking for?”

“Just… this one!” You grin, reaching up to grab the right box, “Thank you.”

He leads you over to the register and begins ringing up the purchase.

“Steel bullets?” He remarks, “Why steel?”

“My pops always trusted ‘em the best.” You reply evenly, suspicious of this guy. He grins.



“I’m more of an iron guy myself.” He remarks. You smile.

“That’s what my boyfriend’s brother reckons.” You add, “But… you keep on with what you up with, right?”

“Which is why you keep hunting?”

“Sure is, mister.” You nod as you hand over the money. Suddenly, his eyes narrow and turn a dark blue – like the deepest, darkest parts of the ocean.

“Hunters.” He hisses, “Thought you could get past us?”

He throws the box of ammo at the floor and the scatter. Your eyes widen as he launched himself over the counter and tackles you to the floor.

“We’ve been here for decades and will not have hunters ruin that!” With one blow, you’re out like a light.


“She should be here by now.” Sam says worriedly, pacing the floor. Dean looks over at him, brows furrowed.

“She’ll just have run into some old lady on the street. You know what she’s like, she can’t say no.”

Sam shakes his head, “Something’s wrong, Dean. Trust me.”


You wake up in a small room. The air is humid and it’s all but pitch black, the only light coming from a tear in the blackout fabric covering the window. You’re tied securely to a chair and you groan, your head aching. You’re tied with what seems to be lengths of fisherman’s rope – long, thick, and potentially sea-washed. A green tinge to what you can see of it indicates some sort of algae, maybe, covering it.

“Ah, she awakes.”

It’s the man from earlier, stood before you. Except… he’s different. Instead of skin, he has peculiar pearly scales, and his eyes reflect the dark blue of the ocean floor.

“Mermaid?” You ask blearily, and he smiles.

“Bingo.” He doesn’t seem malicious, you ponder. Then you remember that you’re trussed up in a dark, sauna-like room somewhere you don’t know.


“Why what?”

“Why are you killing people now?”

“My daughters have lived for centuries, hunter, and they get bored.” He smiles slightly, “Feeding is not as easy as it used to be.”

“They feed on those guys?”

“They do.”

“Do you have tails?”

“When in water, yes.”

He seems to be proud of what he is – all the better for you.

“I like your scales.” You offer, and he grins, showing razor-sharp teeth, almost like a shark’s.

“Why, thank you. How would you like some of your own?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, come on.” He groans, “They never want to be turned, but they grow to love it. Look at my girls now!”

“I know, but I spent hours moisturising my face and-”

“Be quiet, human!” He hisses. Well, at least it’s a step up from hunter. Or is it?

“Sorry. Just out of interest, how do I go about… turning?” You ask.

Come on, guys. I’m running out of questions!

“It’s simple. All you do is sit there while we feed you the waters of every ocean.”

“That’s all?”

“No. Then blood.”


“It’s worth it. Finally, we drown you.”


“Again, painful, but worth it.”

“What about the death part? How would I – not that I can, being all… tied up and whatnot… but if I could, how would I?”

“Steel bullets. Any manmade metal, unfortunately.”

“Must make finding cutlery awkward. Or are you more into finger food?”

“Please, shut up. Someone’s coming.”


He shoots you a look that makes you hush, and you strain to listen. He must have much better hearing than you do, as you can’t make out a thing.

So, you keep making noise. Distracting him is the best thing is the easiest way if it is Sam and Dean.

“So… did you ever watch that H20: Just Add Water show? Is it like that? 'Cause that would be awesome! But what happens when it rains? I’ve always wondered that. I mean… it must suck. How do you drink? Do you drink blood? I tried it once when I was a teenager but it was just weird 'cause it was my own and I felt really weird. What about… bodies? You eat the flesh? Or do you, like, just eat the legs so that you can keep your own human legs. Wait, that’s not right, I’ve seen the bodies…” You babble on and on, totally meaninglessly. He buys it, though, tuning into your voice rather than whoever is approaching. He tries to tell you to be quiet, but you just keep going.

That’s when the door bursts open and three gunshots ring out through the room. Two hit his chest and one hits his neck.

Sam and Dean race forward – Dean checking the mermaid, and Sam coming to untie you.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Sam asks, cutting the rope away. You laugh it off.

“Nah, he was chill.”

“Chill? Y/N, he sired mermaids. He wanted to change you into one.”

“How did you know that?”

“One of his girls told us.” Sam shrugs, pulling you to your feet. You wobble slightly and he catches you, wrapping a secure arm around your waist, “Easy, there.”

“What about the girls?”




You laugh, and Sam presses a kiss to your lips as the three of you leave the house the mermaid family had taken up residence in.

“I’m starving.” Dean remarks loudly, grabbing your attention, “Who votes we go and get something to eat before we leave this joint?”

“Can we get fish?” You request, and both brothers groan.

“Maybe we should have let them turn you.”

“Screw off. You’d be dead without me, and you know it.”

“She’s kind of right, Dean.”

“I know she’s right, dammit. Let’s just get pie and move on.”


I hate those middle age white guys who walk round with that stupid fucking disdainful double-chinned rosy expression on their face, like they are doing the entire world a favour by existing in it and you are only allowed to Be because they say so. Your cheap suit and prehistoric attitude is impressing nobody, my guy, so kindly take your lame alpha dog mentality and neuter it for all our sakes.