marvelfanfn2187a113

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The angst, I cant 😭

╰┈➤ I'm Sorry

Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Dean Winchester x sister!reader

Summary: A hunt went wrong because you made a mistake and someone accidentally got hurt. You're 14-15.

Warnings:Yelling, mentions of blood, angsty

"Stay in the car, Y/N," Dean instructed when you opened the door to get out of the car.

"What? Why? I can help," you didn't understand why Dean and Sam kept distancing you from this hunt. At the bunker, they said they had a case but didn't show you the article or even tell you where it was at. You had to practically beg your brothers to let you go too. Being at the bunker alone was boring and the place was too big to not be lonely in there.

"No, not this one. Just stay. We'll be back." Dean walked off with a gun in his hand towards Sam, who was at the entrance of the old barn. You couldn't even get another word in before they disappeared from your line of sight.

For the next 10 minutes, you wouldn't sit still. Something was bothering you about this hunt. Maybe it was because your brothers wouldn't tell you what's going on. You expected as much from Dean but Sam not telling you anything? That set off the alarm inside your head.

You were stretched out in the front seat of the impala when gun shots echoed through your ears. You immediately sat up, looking over at the door of the barn. You counted the seconds that went by and when you hit the 120 mark, you got out of the car.

You sped walk over to the trunk of the impala and grabbed anything that would fit in your pockets or waist band. You had no idea what was in there. No plan. But they haven't come out yet so you had no choice. You put a silver knife in your hoodie pocket, a gun in your waist band and you held a demon knife out. After closing the trunk as silently as you can, you entered the barn.

Your nose scrunched up with how awful it smelled in here. This barn had to have been here since the early 1900s cause yikes. You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of voices ahead. You hid behind some stacks of hay to ease drop.

"I swear there were three of you pieces of shit." A guy's voice said in disgust. You peaked your head just a little bit to see his his back but when he turned his head slightly you took in his features. Black eyes, skinny but tall build. Demon. He had blood going down the side of his face and some cuts on his arms.

"Wasn't she younger? I know someone in hell who would love her." Another demon had an ugly laugh when he came from behind two pillars. The pillars that had Sam and Dean tied on the floor defenseless. You ducked back down, not wanting to push your luck, and started thinking of how you were going to do this.

"Shut up!" Deans voice was clearly angry at the demons for talking like that about you. His eyebrows were tightened together and he was pulling at the tough knots the demons put together.

Sam stared at them not saying a word but his mind was running with thoughts. He tried concentrating on the knots behind this wooden pillar but he was hoping that these assholes wouldn't go looking for you outside.

"Shut up? You have a lot of nerve talking to us like that considering you're the one tied up." The one with the ugly laugh smirked.

"When you say it like that it makes me think you're flirting with me." You rolled your eyes at what your brothers remark. Even when there's a chance he might die this kid won't stop with the sarcasm.

The shorter demon swiftly landed a punch on Deans cheek. Dean groaned and spit out some blood on the ground next to him. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wood.

"Go check their precious car." The tall one ordered.

"Why-"

"Hurry up and go." He raised his voice which got the other demon out the door to the impala. This was your chance. Don't mess it up.

You got up on your feet and took a deep breath. The moon shined on you as you approached him from the back causing Sam to make eye contact with you. His lips formed a tight line almost like he was telling you not to do it.

The demon caught Sam's gaze and immediately turned around. Your eyes widened and instinctively you stabbed the demon in the stomach before he could put his hands on you. He let out a scream as light shined then slumped to the ground. You pulled the bloody knife back out and hurried over to Dean since he was closest.

Sam let out a sigh of relief across the room while Dean clenched his jaw. "I thought I told you to stay in the car." The stern low tone of his voice took you back in surprise but you shook it off.

"I'm saving your ass right now." You whispered, it was only a matter of time before the other one would come back. You crouched behind Dean and started untying the knots.

Dean scoffed at your words but let you untie him. After a minute you finally got it and were about to head over to Sam until you saw that the demon already had a gun aiming at him.

"Put the knife and gun down!" The demon yelled at both of you. You guys do what he says and crouch down to put the weapons on the floor. You both stand back up, Dean having his hands up but yours stay by your side. This demon didn't know you have a gun. The only problem was aiming and timing it right.

This is going to be very hard since the demon is now holding one arm around his neck while the other had the gun on his temple. Sam's hands were holding back the demons arm so he could still breathe.

"Okay they're down. Let him go," your breath steady as you study this guys movements. Patience is key in times like this.

"Why would I let him go? Just so he could kill me? I don't think so." His hands fidget with the gun slightly like he was amped up on energy drinks.

"Either way I'll kill you." Sam promised in a low voice. The demon scoffed and as he was about say something a truck's headlights shined through the boards on the windows. You could hear the horn of truck as it goes past. You could also see the demon look away and that's when you decided it's time.

You swiftly pulled the gun from your waistband and didn't hesitate shooting the demon before it was too late.

Only one problem.

You weren't as great as Sam or Dean when it comes to shooting pistols fast. It was rifles you were better at. Hence the bullet wound in the demons shoulder instead of face.

The demon stumbled back dropping his arm that was holding the gun and his other arm holding the wound. In a minute, he realized he got shot he pulled the trigger on Sam's guns. The bullet going in his torso right under the bottom ribs.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled for his brother as he ran to catch Sam before he hit the ground.

Your eyes widened at the shot of the other gun. As the demon was trying to run, you shot him. This time square in the head so the light can shine when he dies.

You didn't hesitate when you ran over to Sam who was in Deans arms. He was bleeding bad. His eyes were shut tight groaning from the pressure Dean was putting on the wound.

"Y/N. Go start the car." Dean's voice was rough, angry even and it was directed at you. You didn't argue and ran out the barn to Baby. You opened the drivers door and stuff was thrown around in the back from the demon checking the car.

Once you heard the purr of the engine, you quickly turned to the heat in the car. It was freezing out there and you thought Sam would be more comfortable in the warmth. You climbed out of the drivers seat and went to open the back when you saw Dean carrying Sam out.

You got in first so you wouldn't accidentally hurt Sam when you got in. Sam winced as Dean got him in the car, laying his head on your lap. You felt your stomach tighten up from the guilt.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," you bit your bottom lip trying to hold back the tears. Dean got in the drivers seat and didn't waste a minute to speed off to a hospital.

"Sweetheart, it's not your fault," Sam threw you a weak smile. You brushed your fingers through his hair and continued to put pressure where the blood was coming from. You swore you saw Deans grip on the wheel tighten at Sam's words.

┆彡

The motel room was suffocatingly silent. The only sound was the faint buzz of the flickering light overhead. You sat on the edge of the bed, hands trembling slightly, staring at the blood still clinging to your fingers. Sam’s blood.

Your boots were still caked in mud from the barn you had run across only hours ago. The adrenaline had long since drained from your body, leaving you exhausted and jittery. The only thing you could focus on was the image of Sam collapsing to the ground—the way his eyes had widened in shock, then dulled in pain.

The door slammed open, and Dean stormed inside. His face was pale, tight with fury. His eyes, normally sharp with protectiveness, were wild now, nearly unrecognizable. You could see the dark blood smearing his knuckles—his own or the demon’s, you weren’t sure—but the way he was clenching his fists told you he didn’t care.

“You,” he seethed, his voice low. He pointed at you with a trembling hand, his eyes blazing. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out. You could barely breathe.

���Are you out of your damn mind?!” Dean’s voice was louder this time, echoing off the cheap wallpaper. He took a few steps closer and you could feel the heat of his anger radiating off him. “You almost got Sam killed!”

“I—I was just trying to help,” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

Dean let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “Help?” he barked, eyes narrowing. “You thought charging in there with no plan was helping?” He was shaking his head, pacing in front of you, too furious to be still. “You ignored my instructions. You didn’t wait in the car. You went in alone, and now Sam is in the hospital because of you!”

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but you blinked them away. Your hands curled into fists in your lap, nails biting into your palms. You thought you could take the shot. You thought you could save him. But you missed.

Dean’s voice cracked slightly when he spoke again, quieter this time but no less harsh. “You could’ve lost him.” His green eyes were hard, piercing you with every word. “Do you get that? Sam could be dead right now. Do you even realize what that would’ve done to me? To you?”

Your lip trembled, and your throat tightened painfully. “I—I’m sorry,” you croaked.

Dean’s eyes were glassy now, but the anger didn’t waver. He pointed a trembling finger at you. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. Not when you put his life on the line.”

The words hit you like a slap, sharp and cold. You flinched but nodded, too ashamed to meet his eyes. You deserved it. Every word. Every ounce of anger.

For a long moment, he just stared at you, chest heaving with heavy, uneven breaths. His jaw clenched and unclenched, as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t trust himself to speak. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

The room was dead silent again.

You stared at the cracked paint on the wall, the echo of his words still lingering in the space. You clenched your fists so tightly your knuckles went white, trying to steady your shaking hands.

The guilt settled deep in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You knew Dean was right. You should have waited a bit longer. You should have been smarter. But you weren’t. And now Sam was paying for it.

You sucked in a shaky breath and wiped the blood from your hands onto your jeans, but no matter how much you scrubbed, the guilt still clung to you. You weren’t sure it ever would come off.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Useless, part 2

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister

Requested: not, no one asked for this, I just felt like writing it. And you guys seemed enthusiastic with that poll so here it is.

Synopsis: you, Sam, and Dean have some things to get used to with him back as a human.

Part 1 is here

Warnings: abuse, addiction, anxiety, reader likes Taylor Swift

Sam was worried.

In the days after you detoxed from demon blood, he had been relieved that you didn’t seem to be afraid of Dean, even after everything he’d done as a demon. Neither you nor Dean would speak about what had happened in those weeks, so Sam had to be content to let things be forgotten. But something about the way you’d been tagging behind Dean at all times was…not normal.

He wondered if Dean saw it too, although he suspected that Dean was so relieved you didn’t hate him that he didn’t notice.

He was wrong; Dean knew exactly why you never left his side.

“Stay close, and don’t try anything. I taught you all of your tricks, so we both know you won’t get away with it.” It was the first time you had been unchained since Dean took you from the bunker, so you decided not to argue with him for now.

It had been four days of the same suffocating motel room, with only Dean and Crowley to keep you company the few times they’d stumbled in, so even the sight of a dingy bar was welcome to you.

Other than Crowley, the whole thing felt almost normal—Dean drinking and trying to pick up the bartender with cheesy pickup lines. If you didn’t currently have demon blood pumping through your veins and cuts on your wrists from where your big brother chained you up, you could almost forget he was a demon.

In fact, it was so normal that you got a little too comfortable. You quickly bored of watching Dean flirt, and you found yourself wandering over to the nearest pool table. You hadn’t even set up the balls yet when a vice grip on your arm froze you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dean spat out through gritted teeth.

“Playing pool.” You scoffed at your older brother, not quite realizing that you were pushing at his fragile nerves. “You’re hurting my arm, let go.”

“I don’t think you’re getting something here, little sister.” Dean drew himself up to his full height, and you suddenly realized just how very small you were. “This isn’t playtime. You don’t get to run around wherever you want anymore, understand? I’m in charge now, and you’re going to do exactly what I say, or I’ll make you regret the day you were born. Now I told you to stay close, and I meant it.”

You opened your mouth to fight—you may be forced to ride along, you may even be forced to drink demon blood, but you weren’t his lapdog, and you wouldn’t be treated like one—but the words died in your throat when you looked up and your eyes were met with black orbs.

Dean wasn’t just Dean anymore. He was capable of…

Of—you didn’t even want to know what.

“I’ll make you regret the day you were born.” Dean’s words echoed in your head. He was just trying to scare you, obviously. Dean…Dean would never hurt you.

Dean turned on his heel and returned to the bar, and you found yourself following. Until you knew exactly what this black-eyed Dean was capable of, it was safer to do what he said. For now.

“That’s what I thought,” Dean grumbled, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his flask. “Drink.”

“But…people…” you glanced around, wary of the other patrons.

Something hard suddenly collided with the side of your face, and the metallic taste of blood followed a sharp pain in your lip. You blinked once, twice, trying to make sense of what just happened. The flask was still in front of your face, only now there was the dark red of your blood staining the side of it.

“I said drink,” Dean growled.

Your bleeding lower lip quivered for a second before dropping open, and Dean tilted the flask up, pouring its contents into your mouth while your distracted mind whirled.

He hadn’t meant to do that, right? Dean had never—never—hurt you. He was just lifting the flask, and your face got in the way. He hadn’t hit you with it—he wouldn’t.

It was just an accident, you told yourself.

The twisted grin on Dean’s face said otherwise.

“Hey, thanks.” Dean’s happy tone caught Sam’s attention, and he looked up to see you handing Dean a sandwich. That was something else—you seemed to be anticipating Dean’s wants or needs and getting ahead of them, like there was some weird telepathic link between the two of you.

You were standing at Dean’s side now, staring at him like you were waiting for something.

“You need something?” It was Sam who spoke up, not Dean.

“N…no.” You took a half-step back from Dean and stared at your shoes like you’d been caught doing something wrong. Sam had no idea what to make of it.

But Dean did.

…

Dean hadn’t even noticed you lingering at his side until Sam questioned you. He turned to look, and he caught your expectant expression for half a second before it dropped, and you were stepping away from Dean.

“N…no,” you mumbled to Sam, looking uncharacteristically guilty.

Dean felt like a rock was lodged in the pit of his stomach. The sandwich, the lingering, the guilt…

It was evidence of a pathway in your mind that Dean had meticulously paved as a demon—give him what he wanted, and nothing bad would happen—and it made him sick to his stomach.

Even now, he watched your hands shaking and knew your subconscious was screaming for blood—because he’d trained you to expect reward.

“Did you clean the guns?” Dean asked you, desperate for a change of topic to ease the tension in the room. You often cleaned the weapons after a hunt, since the brothers rarely let you after the monsters, and it gave you something to do. However, Dean instantly regretted asking when all the color drained from your face.

“I—um—I forgot.” Your hands were fidgeting, and your eyes wouldn’t leave your shoes. “I’m sorry De, I can—I’ll go do it right now. I didn’t mean to—“

“Hey, you ok?” Dean hadn’t noticed Sam crossing the room until he was in front of you, trying to get you to meet his eye as he spoke.

You weren’t ok, and Dean knew why.

Dean had been getting annoyed with Crowley lately. His demons were always under foot, and Dean wanted to teach him a lesson. When one of the demons got a little too close and comfortable, Dean decided to act.

“I want you to exorcise that one,” he muttered to you.

You lifted your head, locking your eyes with the demon he was referring to before looking away quickly.

“De, I’ve never—I don’t know how to—“

“Did I tell you to ask questions?” Dean snapped. Your protests stopped.

“No sir.”

“Good. You know how to do it, you saw Sam do it, and you’ve got demon blood. Now do it.”

You swallowed hard, returning your gaze to the demon whose attention was now elsewhere. Your hand twitched as you focused, the blood pulsing in your veins as pain shot through your head. You winced, feeling hot blood dripping down your nose as you concentrated.

The demon started to cough and gag, black smoke coming out of his mouth. But he didn’t leave his vessel.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Dean mumbled, watching the demon carefully. His eyes switched to you when you gasped in exhaustion, collapsing back into the counter as your strength gave out.

“I can’t,” you whimpered. “I’m sorry—“

Dean didn’t stay to listen.

“I’ll deal with this myself,” he growled, and in two strides he was near the demon, letting his fists loose on him in a firestorm of rage.

You watched in silent horror for as long as you were able, but when the demon’s face was unrecognizable in the carnage and he was sobbing and begging for mercy, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Dean, stop it!” You ran to your brother, but he didn’t give you so much as a glance or a grunt. “Dean, that’s enough!” You grabbed your brother’s arm as he wound up to swing again.

It happened in a flash, and you were flat on your back before you even began to feel the sting on your face. You took a deep breath as your brother continued his attack on the demon, trying to replay the last few seconds in your mind.

Dean hadn’t meant to do that, surely. He was just swinging back to hit the demon, and you’d gotten in the way. He hadn’t slapped you—so hard that you could practically feel your face turning black and blue—on purpose, right?

Of course not. Dean wouldn’t ever hurt you on purpose.

Dean shoved the demon to the ground; he was done. His attention turned to you, but when he saw your pathetic form, battered and barely able to get off the floor, his gaze didn’t soften. He didn’t ask if you were ok, he didn’t apologize for accidentally hitting you.

Instead, his harsh grip yanked you to your feet by the arm, and your back was against the counter before you’d registered that he shoved you.

A cry of surprise and pain escaped your lips when Dean backhanded you across the face.

“Don’t ever tell me what to do again,” Dean growled. “And next time I give you an order, I expect you to do it.”

That hadn’t been an accident. There was no confusing it for anything but what it had been—your big brother slapping you across the face because he was angry with you.

But it didn’t feel right; it didn’t feel possible.

You must’ve deserved it, a voice from the back of your mind said. You got in his way, and he can’t let you do it again. He hit you to teach you—he’s teaching you to protect you.

Everything about that thought felt so wrong. But not nearly as wrong as the truth felt.

“Don’t worry about it, ok?” Dean spoke up. “I needed something to do this afternoon anyway, I’ll take care of the guns.”

You went quiet, slowly nodding as you calmed down.

“I need to go get us some supplies,” Sam cut in, his eyes still trained on you. “You wanna come with, kid?”

Dean watched as your gaze shifted to him, a lingering question in your eyes. You were waiting for permission, whether you knew it or not.

“Y/N?” Sam said, and his voice snapped your attention.

“Oh, um…ok.” You seemed to realize you didn’t need permission, but you were still lingering by Dean’s chair, tension clear in your stance.

“Bring me back some beer,” Dean said, and you seemed to relax a little at the permission implied in his statement. “And pie.”

…

You could feel Sam’s eyes on you as you walked around the store with him. You knew you were acting weird, but you’d spent so long with demon Dean that you weren’t so sure what normal was anymore.

Following Dean and listening to his orders felt so normal, but now even Dean was giving you those worried looks when he caught you lingering.

“Here.” You blinked when Sam waved a water bottle in front of your face. “You look thirsty.”

You lifted your arm to take it, but the second it was in your hands your grip slackened, the bottle falling as a not-so-distant memory knocked you back on your heels.

“If you can’t do a simple thing I ask, then maybe I don’t need you here.” Dean was chaining your wrists as he spoke—something he hadn’t done for a couple of days, because you’d been obedient. “Now you’re gonna learn about consequences, kiddo. And when this is over, maybe you’ll actually be useful.”

You no longer doubted Dean’s willingness to hurt you, so you were prepared for the worst. But you weren’t prepared for Dean to turn on his heel and walk out the door. Hours went by, and every one that ticked on made you realize that this punishment was worse than Dean hitting you. You were desperate for blood—it felt like your bones were drying out, like your powers were seeping through your skin and taking your energy with them. Your nerves were on fire, and you were shaking by the time night fell, but still Dean didn’t return.

You nearly cried in relief when the door opened, and then again in disappointment when you saw not Dean, but one of Crowley’s henchman. He barely gave you a glance as he crossed the room and opened a suitcase.

Just another lapdog fetching something for his master, you thought bitterly. Not like I’m much better.

“Hey.” You spoke up before you’d even made the decision to do so. “Wait, don’t go.”

“I’m here to get something for the king, not to talk to his pet’s pet,” the demon snapped.

“I get it,” you scoffed, “you think I’m some nobody. Not like you’re exactly in charge.”

The demon started to walk towards the door.

“I can help you!” You said. The demon’s step faltered, so you continued. “I have influence. You may hate my brother, but Crowley listens to him, and Dean listens to me.” Dean didn’t listen to you, but hopefully this demon didn’t know that. “So maybe if you do a little something for me, then I put in a good word for you.”

“Why should I believe you have influence?” The demon argued. “You’re in chains.”

“Freedom and influence aren’t the same thing,” you countered.

“Say I did believe you,” the demon ventured. “What would you want from me?”

“You know I’m jacked up on demon blood,” you said, hardly believing the words coming out of your mouth. Maybe you didn’t need to do this, maybe this was how you could stop, maybe Dean cutting off your supply was a blessing.

Then pain shot through your body, cutting off your argument with a whimper as you curled in on yourself.

“Well…” you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to continue. “Well my big brother’s been a little busy lately, and I need a hit.”

“So…some of my blood.” The demon pulled out his knife and held it to his hand, but he didn’t cut. “How exactly could you influence Crowley?”

“What do you want?” You asked.

“I want to be in charge of the crossroads,” he said.

“I’ll tell him you’re the most powerful demon I’ve ever seen, I’ll tell him whatever you want him to hear. Just help me out.”

“Fine.” The demon grunted as he sliced into his palm, grabbing one of the paper coffee cups off the desk and letting his blood drip into it. You waited in agony as the blood slowly filled the cup, before the demon wiped his hand and held the cup out for you.

The cup hadn’t even touched your lips before the door opened, and your whole body stiffened in terror as Dean strode into the room, Crowley at his heels.

“Hey—what—“ Dean watched the scene for less than a second before he had the First Blade in his grip, his eyes pitch black as he yanked the demon away from you, the blood-filled cup spilling on the carpet.

“Wait, wait!” The demon whimpered. “I-I didn’t think you—I didn’t know—“

Dean wasn’t listening. He drove the blade into the demon’s chest, and the demon’s pleading stopped.

“Hey!” Crowley protested. “He was one of my best dealers!”

Dean turned his steel gaze on the king of hell. “He tried to give my sister his blood,” Dean growled. “He got what he deserved.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t done,” Crowley scoffed.

Dean rolled his eyes.

“If you don’t understand the problem, I can’t help you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, and you curled in on yourself.

“De, I-I didn’t—“

“Oh, you did. You think you’re a big girl now, is that it? A big girl with her big girl powers trying to be big enough to get her own supplier, huh?”

“I-it hurt so much, and I—“

“Did you really have to kill him?” Crowley’s interruption had Dean’s fists clenching as he gritted his teeth.

“She has powers,” Dean spat, furious that he had to explain himself. “And while I’m her supplier, her powers are my powers. So yes, I had to kill him—and you’d better hope the rest of your little demons get the message. She’s mine. No one else feeds her, no one else talks to her, no one else looks at her.” Dean’s eyes were back on you, deep pits that had been haunting your nightmares. “But don’t think this means you’ve got power over me, kiddo. If you’d taken even a drop of that guy’s blood, you’d be dead right now. You’re under my control; you eat when I give you food, you get blood when I give it to you. You’re only breathing right now because I allow it. Forget that again, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

“Alright, you’ve made your point.” Crowley grunted as he dragged the body to the corner of the room.

“Crowley.” Dean’s eyes never left you as he spoke. “Get out. I need to teach my little sister a lesson.”

“Dean—“

“De, don’t,” you interrupted Crowley. “You-you don’t have to do this. You’re still my big brother.”

A cruel glimmer lit up in Dean’s eye as he started to laugh.

“Aww, isn’t that just sweet. But you’re not gettin this, kiddo.” Dean’s hand was at your neck before you’d even seen his arm move. “I’m keeping you around because you’re useful, and honestly I’m having fun with this.” Dean’s fingers were slowly tightening, and when your attempt to breath came up short you whimpered, your eyes shuttering closed as Dean continued. “But the minute you become more trouble than you’re worth, you’re done, you hear me? I’ll throw you away like trash, and not even Sammy’s gonna want you now, all juiced up on demon blood.”

Sammy didn’t want you anymore. Dean didn’t want you either, not really. All he wanted was to use you…

You weren’t wanted. But if all you could be was useful, then maybe you could do more to be of use to Dean, before he got rid of you.

“Now you crossed a line,” Dean continued while Crowley left the room. “And you’re going to regret it.”

You swallowed hard, willing your shaking hands to still. You knew this was going to be bad, but you were going to take it.

And you wouldn’t give him a reason to do it again. You were going to be useful.

“I don’t want it.”

“What? Kid, it’s just water—“ Sam bent down and picked up the bottle, holding it out for you again.

“No!” You slapped it out of his hands before backing away. “I—I won’t, I won’t do it!” You spun on your heel and ran down the aisle, turning and bolting straight for the door. Once you were outside, you slid against the side of the building and dropped to the ground in the alley, pulling your phone from your pocket and pressing Dean’s number.

“Hey, did they have pie—“

“Dean.” You sniffled, your voice shaking before you swallowed hard.

Get it together, you urged yourself.

“Dean, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Kid, what’s going on?”

“I—I didn’t take it—I’m not—“

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think.

He’s gonna beat me again. He’s gonna abandon me.

“Y/N? Hey, you ok?” Sam was next to you now, shaking your shoulder. He took your phone when your grip faltered. “Dean? Yeah, we…we’re coming home. It’s ok.” He hung up, putting his full attention on you. “Honey, what’s going on?”

“No,” you whimpered. “I can’t do it, he doesn’t want me to.”

“Who?” Sam asked. He put his hands on your shoulders. “What are you talking about? Dean? N/N, he’s not a demon anymore. You’re safe, he’s not gonna hurt you.”

You didn’t respond, so Sam lifted you into his arms and carried you to the Impala.

“It’s ok,” he promised. “You’re gonna be ok.”

You didn’t speak the whole way home, but when Sam parked the car and tried to lead you inside, you froze.

“De’s in there,” you mumbled, and Sam couldn’t tell if you were talking to him or yourself—you looked so out of it.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “But it’s just Dean, he’s not gonna hurt you.”

“He can’t—I can’t let him see me,” you sniffled, rubbing at your tear-stained face. “He can’t see me like this.”

You didn’t know that Dean already had; he was standing at the edge of the hallway, watching as Sam tried to coax you further into the bunker.

He knew exactly why you didn’t want him to see you, and it made his heart twist just thinking about it.

It was a few hours after Dean had beat you for the first time. He’d fed you some of his blood after as a “reward” for taking the beating “without being a wimp.” Then he’d left with Crowley again to get more beers, and when he’d returned he was ready to move on to the next town—this one had gotten boring.

“It’s time to go,” he said, reaching up to unchain you. You didn’t fight, but Dean heard a sound that set his teeth on edge; you were sniffling. “Are you crying?” He snapped.

“I’m-I’m ok, just give me a minute,” you pleaded.

Dean stayed eerily silent, watching you. You ducked your head—you knew he’d seen you crying, but you still didn’t want him to watch.

“So this is what you do when I leave.” Dean shook his head. “Is this what you used to do in the bunker too, when you’d hide in your room?” Dean needled you. “What, you think just because you don’t let us see you cry, that makes you tough?” He scoffed, his hand coming up behind your neck and grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back so you couldn’t hide your tears from him. “You’re still crying like a little brat. So no, I’m not gonna give you a minute. I’m not gonna give you a second—you get it together and stop acting like a baby, or I’m gonna beat the weakness outta you, understand?”

A sob escaped your throat before you could stifle it, but when Dean lifted a hand to hit you, you quickly quieted, wiping your tears away and pursing your lips shut tightly.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, dropping his hand. “I better never see that again, understand?”

“Yes sir,” you promised, getting to unsteady feet and letting Dean lead the way out of the motel room.

“Why can’t Dean see you kiddo?” Sam asked gently.

“I’m weak.” You were desperately wiping at your eyes, but the tears kept coming. “I’m weak and I’m useless and I can’t be!”

Dean had seen enough.

“No you’re not,” he said, cringing when you jumped in surprise. “You’re not weak. It’s ok, you can—“

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, backing away from Dean and wiping your sleeve against your face so hard that you were turning red.

“Hey, hey it’s ok.” Dean was in front of you by the time you lowered your sleeve. He raised his hand to wipe away the tears that were still flowing.

Your eyes screwed shut as your shoulders tensed and your whole body flinched. Dean froze, feeling like an ice cube was dropped down his shirt. His hand was shaking as he gently touched it to your face. You flinched again before slowly opening your eyes when you realized he wasn’t hitting you.

“I’m not mad,” Dean said softly. “I’m never gonna hurt you again, ok? I promise.”

You were still crying, so Dean pulled you into his arms. Sam watched helplessly, a sinking feeling in his stomach as he began to realize just how bad your life had been with his demon brother.

“I think we should go for a little drive,” Dean suggested when your whimpers finally faded away. “I’ve got some things to say to you.”

You were shaking like a leaf, but you didn’t say no. Sam just watched as Dean slowly led you out to the Impala, and he couldn’t help but think this was a horrible idea.

…

He’s never coming back. He doesn’t want me anymore. I’m all alone.

Every time Dean left you alone, the worries started. If he decided you were too much extra weight, you’d have nowhere to go and no one that would take you in—no one would want a demon blood addict. Sam would be so ashamed of you.

“Hey!” Dean snapped his fingers in front of your face, and you flinched. “Would you pay attention? I’m back, that means get up and let’s go.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, jumping to your feet and grabbing the bag Dean had bought you, which was always packed. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” he grumbled.

“Ah good, you’re still here.” Crowley said after opening the door without knocking. “I think we need to have a little conversation. About her.” Crowley nodded his head in your direction.

“Go ahead,” Dean answered. “She won’t mind.”

Your hands were fidgeting in your sleeves while Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I’m sick of dragging the kid around. She’s useless—“ he glanced at you— “no offense.”

“I told you already Crowley; she stays with me.”

“She can’t even do anything with that blood you gave her,” Crowley shot back. “Just leave her here for Moose to find. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

Your heart was in your throat, your attention fully on your big brother as he pondered Crowley’s suggestion.

“Dean, I’m—I’m trying. I’ll learn to use my powers, I promise!” Dean didn’t even glance your way, and you started to get frustrated, your anger directing itself as Crowley as you stepped towards him. “You can’t just—“

“Hey.” One of Crowley’s goons—who had trailed in behind the king—stepped in your way, his hand raised like some kind of secret service agent. “Back off.”

“Screw you!” You yelled, raising your hand and screwing your eyes shut in concentration.

For a long, sickening moment, you thought nothing was going to happen.

Then the demon started to scream.

You waited until the screaming stopped to open your eyes. The demon’s vessel was sprawled out on the floor, groaning.

“Hey!” Crowley snapped. “You can’t just—“

But you weren’t listening. You didn’t see anything in the room except for Dean’s proud grin.

“I knew keeping you around was a good idea,” he chuckled, pulling out his flask. “Drink up kid, you earned it.”

All you had to do was be useful, and you’d never be alone.

Was Dean angry? Probably—you hadn’t remembered to clean the guns, and then you’d ditched him to go to the store with Sam, and then you’d cried.

He doesn’t want me anymore. He’s going to kick me out of the car and leave me.

Your heart was beating nearly out of your chest, so loud in your ears that you wondered if Dean heard it. He was silent beside you, even though he’d said he wanted to talk to you, which made you even more sure that he’d brought you out here to leave you.

“We gotta fix this,” Dean said finally.

Fix what? Fix me?

“It can’t keep going like this.”

So he does want to get rid of me.

“You hearing me, kid?” Dean asked.

You didn’t know what to say, so you responded automatically.

“Yes sir.”

“No, I…ok.” Dean sighed, turning the Impala into a near-empty parking lot. “Let’s try this.” He parked the car, then stared at you for a long minute. “You gettin out?”

Your hands were shaking as you glanced out the window, then back at Dean.

This is it. He doesn’t want me anymore. He’s abandoning me.

…

Dean’s hands were tight on the wheel as he drove, the silence beyond awkward. You sat tensely beside Dean the whole car ride, not saying a word. He knew he was still scaring you, but he just didn’t know how to fix it.

“You hearing me, kid?” Dean asked, turning to glance at you.

“Yes sir,” you answered.

Dean’s heart dropped—he really was scaring you.

“No, I…ok.” Dean sighed, pulling into a cafe parking lot. “Let’s try this.” Maybe it was being stuck alone in the Impala that was making you nervous—maybe if he got you around people, you wouldn’t be as scared of him.

He parked, but you still didn’t move—if anything you seemed even more scared and tense.

“You gettin out?” He asked. That was, apparently, the wrong thing to ask, though Dean didn’t understand why.

Your hands were shaking so bad that your sleeves were fluttering, and it looked like you’d stopped breathing.

“I can do better.” Your voice came out barely above a whisper. “Please don’t leave me here, Dean. I’ll do whatever you want, I promise!”

“Hey, whoa, what?” Dean stiffened in his seat. “Leave you—kid, what are you talking about?”

“I-I know I’ve been screwing it up all day, but I’ll do better, I swear!” You pleaded. Dean still had no idea what you were talking about. “Just don’t make me go, please don’t make me.”

“Hey, hey, stop.” Dean reached out and grabbed your hands, trying to ignore the way you flinched. “Stop it. I’m not leaving you here, I just—I’m trying to talk to you.”

“You’re not mad?” You were curled in on yourself, staring up at Dean and looking about 3 feet tall.

“No.” Dean spoke gently, deliberately. “Of course I’m not mad at you. But things have been different since…since everything. And I want to fix it. I don’t want you to look at me like I…”

Like I’m a demon. Like you think I’m gonna hurt you.

You were relaxing, slowly but surely.

“So…so you’re not gonna leave me out here?”

“Why do you keep asking that?” Dean demanded.

“I just…you threatened to do it so many times before…” you weren’t looking at Dean anymore, your eyes trained on your lap. Dean’s heart twisted in his chest, and it took a moment before he was breathing again.

“I was a demon, kid. And that doesn’t make up for any of the crap I said to you—but I don’t feel that way, not for a second. I’d never leave you behind, never.”

You kept babbling on.

“I know I’m not as useful anymore—“

“Hey,” Dean interrupted. “Kid, we talked about this. Don’t you remember?”

“I guess, I just…” you sigh. “I wasn’t sure if…if you meant it, or if you just felt bad.”

“Every word. I meant every word,” Dean assured you. “I know you’re still scared of me, but you don’t have to be. That stuff I did won’t ever happen again, ok?”

“Ok,” you mumbled, but you didn’t sound so convinced.

“How about this.” Dean sighed heavily. “How about…we talk to Sam about what happened. It’s not gonna be fun, but maybe he can help us. He’s about as close to a therapist as the two of us are gonna get, and he keeps us in check. If you start gettin scared, he’ll understand. And if I start being a jerk, he’ll knock me into shape. Sound good?” Dean felt the pain in his chest easing as he watched you become less and less tense.

“Sounds…better than nothing,” You decided.

“Good. Let’s head back then.” Dean started up the Impala and swung the car into a u-turn.

“Hey Dean?”

Dean hummed.

“I’m trying not to be scared of you.”

Dean offered you a faint smile.

“I know kid.” He sat in silence for a minute before a grin lifted his features. “How’s this for not scary?” He reached down under his seat and pulled out a cassette, popping it into the player. “I was gonna give you this on your birthday.”

The opening notes to your favorite Taylor Swift song started playing, and Dean laughed at your shocked expression.

He started to sing along with the tape, but he didn’t get a single word right.

“You’re doing it wrong!” You insisted, smacking Dean on the arm. But you were smiling more than Dean had seen in weeks.

“No, I’m not.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hiiiii! I jsut got my wisdom teeth out like an hour ago and I miss your stories a lto hope you're doing well 💕

Awww you’re so sweet 🤟💜. I’m doing good, so so busy with college papers but I AM almost done with another Winchester sister fic for you guys

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

╰┈➤ Spring Break

Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Summary: Surprise!! You went to go visit Sam at college without anybody knowing. Reader is like 12/13 years old. (Y/F/A = your favorite animal)

Warnings: None that I can think of

You got this.

You got this.

You were standing at the front door of the apartment hesitating to knock. It was late. 11PM to be exact. Maybe you should try again tomorrow. You don't even know if this is the right house. To be fair, it was under a girls name but this was the place some student directed you to.

It's only a matter of time before Dean or your dad would come get you. Scratch that. Your dad wouldn't want to set foot here so Dean would come get you.

You inhaled sharply and knocked on the wooden door two times. A few seconds go by without any sound. Maybe you knocked too quietly? Maybe he isn't even here. You fidgeted with your backpack strands that were dangling by your sides.

Not long after those thoughts you heard a click from the door causing you to look up. You smiled when Sam opened the door. His hair grew slightly.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" Sam froze in the doorway with one of his hands still on the doorknob.

You didn't say anything and ran to his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso. "It's your spring break. I wanted to visit you," your voice was slightly muffled in his shirt.

He let out a sharp breath and hugged you back while peaking his head to see down the hall. "How did you get here? Does Dean or Dad know you're here?" Sam pulled back slightly to see the answer in your expression.

A nervous smile was shown on your face and he knew you weren't supposed to be here. He rubbed his hand on his face thinking of what to do. "Come on," Sam groaned a little frustrated. He was happy you were here but he couldn't help to think the conversation that he'll have with Dean or Dad.

You stepped into the apartment and were in awe. It was pretty big and decorated nicely. Better than all the motels you've stayed at. You tossed your backpack on the couch as you wandered around the living room. Your eyes set on some picture frames of Sam and this beautiful lady.

"Woah. She has pretty hair," you mumbled.

"Thank you but not as silky as yours." You jumped at the new voice in the room. Quickly, you turned around to see the same woman leaning on the wall that connected the room to another. "Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you," she said putting her hands up apologetically.

"No-no, it's okay. I'm just jumpy," you smiled softly at her. "Uh," you look between Sam and this blonde goddess.

"Oh right. Y/N, this is Jess, my girlfriend. Jess, this is Y/N."

"Your sister! Wow you look more grown up from the pictures," she said getting off the wall to walk towards you.

"Pictures?" Your eyebrows furrow a little bit. You were surprised that Sam said anything about you. Jess took your hands into her own. They were the opposite of your own. Hers were soft and delicate, not one scratch on them.

"Yeah, Sam talks about you and Dean all the time. He has pictures unde-"

"Okay okay. It's late and Y/N is probably tired," Sam headed over to a closet pulling out some blankets. You frowned, wanting to find out where the pictures were. "I'm tired. So lets get you set up for tonight and we can finish this conversation tomorrow." Sam said and you swore you saw a little pink on his ears.

Jess nodded and let go of your hands. "Here let me show you were the bathroom is so you can change."

┆彡

The sun shined through the curtains as you smelled something amazing. You groaned as you woke up from the best sleep of your life. This couch was so much more comfortable than the couch at motels.

"Good morning, sunshine," Sam called out, walking in the room with two plates. You hummed in response as you slowly sat up to make room for Sam. He sat beside you and set one of the plates on your lap. Bacon and pancakes. Yum.

"Thanks, Sam," you mumbled as you took a bite of bacon. Crispy but not burnt. Just how you liked it. "Where's Jess?" You asked turning your head around for any sign of her.

Sam smiled seeing how eager you seemed to want to talk to her. "She has a shift today and should be back later." You frowned at the information since you were hoping to gossip with her about Sam.

"Onto the serious situation we have: Dean and Dad don't know you're here and you aren't supposed to be here," he spoke calmly but there was some hesitation in his voice. Almost like he didn't even know to be angry or happy you decided to visit him.

"Well I doubt I'll stay long before Dean comes. We were close enough where the obvious choice would be to come here." You played with your food as if you were getting scolded. You know this wasn't a thought out plan or a good one but you couldn't help yourself to just say hi to Sam.

Sam let out a sigh before putting his plate on the coffee table that was set in front of the couch. "Has Dean called you?" He crossed his arms and leaned back against the cushions.

"Yeah. A lot. He wouldn't stop spamming my phone so I turned it off." That lead a little chuckle from Sam which made you smile.

"Then I guess we have no choice but to have fun until he gets here," he smirked.

You looked up at him with a big smile on your face, "Really? You won't turn me in?"

"Turn you in? What are you? A criminal?" He laughed, showing his dimples on his cheek. He moved his hand to the top of your head and ruffled your hair. "Finish eating and get dress. I'll take you to the zoo."

"Zoo?"

┆彡

"Woah! This place is huge!" You exclaimed as you looked at the trees surrounding the zoo.

"Wait until you go to the San Diego Zoo." Sam smiled softly as he followed you down the path.

"You've been to the San Diego one? I've only seen magazines of that place." You slowed your pace down so you could walk next to him.

"Yeah me and Jess went during our winter break. It is huge!" This only made you want to stay here with Sam longer. His college life seemed like a dream if he went to places as cool as this one. "Come on I want to go see the elephants. Did you know they have incredible memories?"

And off you guys went! You haven't had a day where you went out to do normal things since you were six. Dean and Sam always tried to keeping you away from hunting but John was the ultimate judge for that decision.

As you walked, you both admired the different animals. Sam nerded out over the primates, explaining how intelligent chimpanzees were, while you were fascinated by the big cats. You just wanted to give them big hugs and cuddles.

"But they're so cute! I wonder what their fur feels like." You said as you licked the ice cream from the cone.

"You be sure to let me know when they eat you and you become a ghost." Sam chuckled. You two continued on the path as you passed some sheep and goats. Once you guys got into an area where kids were playing, you saw a face paint stand.

"Sam! Sam! We have to get one! Pleaseee." You begged as you looked up to him trying to copy his puppy eyes. Your attempt just made him laugh more.

"Okay, okay. Lets go see what they have."

A few minutes and some paint later, you got butterfly wings on the side of your eyes while Sam got a tiger on the top half of his face. "Dude, you look ridiculous," you giggled as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You and Sam had so much fun today looking at all the various animals. Your favorite were the Y/F/A. You stood at their exhibit longer than you probably should've because by the time you were at the gift shop the sun was setting. Even though the main attraction for most people were the animals, for you it was hearing all the facts that your brother knew about them. You were proud to have such a smart brother who knew a little about everything.

"Stuffed animal or a keychain for my bag?" You asked Sam holding up the two options.

"Definitely the stuffed animal. I'll get one too so they can be friends." Sam smiled when a big grin appeared on your face.

Sam's phone started ringing when you went to go out the keychain back on the rack. He took it out of his pant pocket and immediately let out a sigh as he read the contact name.

"Dean? Why are you calling?" He asked Dean, watching you come back with two stuffed animals in hand. One an elephant and the other being your favorite animal. Sam signaled to come stand in line with him so you guys can pay.

"You know why I'm calling. I'm coming to get her." Dean said obviously being annoyed with this whole mess.

"Get who?" Sam asked trying to sound convincing but it wasn't working. You raised an eye brow at him wanting to know who he was talking to. 'Dean,' Sam mouthed which made you nod in response.

"Sam, stop. I'm tired. I'm annoyed. I already know Y/N is with you so I'll be at your apartment in a hour." Dean hung up after that so Sam wouldn't have a chance to argue back.

Sam let out a heavy sigh as he put his phone back into his pocket. "He's coming to get you in a hour," he said in a soft tone.

"I had a feeling that's what it was about. At least he gave us the day." Sam smiled at your positivity and ruffled your hair.

"Yeah you're right. Let's pay for these and get out of here."

The cashier called you guys up and Sam paid for the stuffed animals. As you guys were driving back to Jess and Sam's apartment it was quiet. You were sad that you had to leave but you were also happy that you got to see Sam.

Meanwhile, Sam was thinking of ways to get to see you more. It would be really hard since you're constantly moving wherever the hunting job takes you but he'll figure it out. He always does.

Once Sam pulled into the parking lot next to the apartment building you caught a glimpse of Baby on the street.

An hour? Liar. It's been 30 minutes.

Sam wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you held your stuffed animal to your chest. This was probably one of the worst walks you've ever done. The idea of Dad and Dean being mad was all that was on your mind.

You looked up from staring at the sidewalk to see Dean leaning on the car with his arms crossed. At first he looked annoyed but then you saw his eyebrows loosen slightly.

"Y/N/N, how about you go get your stuff while I talk to Dean-o." Sam said softly while he rubbed your shoulder. He felt how tense you were which made it harder for him to send you back. You looked at Sam and back over at Dean who signaled to go with a nod of his head.

You walked into the apartment and took one last look of the place. You never got that gossip session with Jess that you wanted. You didn't really get to know her besides of how awesome she seemed.

Zipping up your backpack, you looked outside of the window to see the boys. It was the first time they saw each other since Sam left and it wasn't looking great by their face expressions.

Dean rolled his eyes while Sam was saying something in his stern tone. You could tell he was using it by how he used his hand gestures and leaning towards Dean more. It was time to go before someone says something they shouldn't have.

You were on your way back to your brothers before stopping when you heard a part of the conversation that peaked your interest.

"Come on, Dean! She hasn't been to a zoo since we took her last. Regular kids go with their parents or grandparents at least once every year."

"She isn't a regular kid. We all aren't."

"Sure but we're old enough now that we can give that somewhat normal life to her if you just let her stay with me," Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "You should've seen her today, man. I haven't seen her smile like that in awhile."

You stepped through the gate from the building still having the stuffed animal close. Dean didn't reply to Sam and just went to you to help put your backpack in the car. He gave you a sad smile when he took the bag from you. You looked over at Sam who looked a bit annoyed about what they were talking about.

Sam opened up his arms signaling he wants a hug before you leave. Running into his arms you hugged him like you didn't want to let go.

"Hey you know we'll see each other soon right?" Sam said but you didn't respond. Something told you that wasn't going to happen. It might've been the fact that your dad would ban it from being so mad or that you won't be anywhere near California again.

Sam pressed his lips on the top of your head as he ran his fingers through your hair. God, you wanted to cry right there and then. Beg to stay. But your pride is stopping you.

Dean cleared his throat freaking both of your attention. "Let's go, angel. Got a long drive." Your lips pressed in a line when you nodded in response.

There was one last tight squeeze from Sam then you both let go. Dean opened the passenger door for you and Sam helped you in and get comfortable. "I'll call you okay? Every night, I promise." He held up his pinky finger which made you smile. That and the fact that he still had some face paint on.

"You can't break it now." You stated when you wrapped your pinky around his.

"Never." He gave your forehead on last kiss then got out of the doorway. Dean closed the door shut and gave you a small smile like he was saying he's sorry.

Dean walked around to his side, going around the back, but stopped at the trunk. He turned to face Sam, "You have no idea how badly I want her to live that apple pie life but Dad... Dad calls the shots around here. I can't do anything about it."

Sam nodded from the sidewalk. He forgot that John had a different control on you and Dean than John did on him.

From inside the car, it sounded like Dean has totally gave up on his free will and trying to get yours too. It made your blood boil but you were only a pre-teen. What could you do about it?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the car shifting to Deans weight as he got into the car. You kept your gaze down at the stuffed animal Sam got you when you felt Deans eyes on you. The car engine rumbled to a start and after turning up the volume dial, Dean pulled off the curb slowly.

You looked up into the side mirror to see Sam blowing kisses and waving. You reached your hand out the window to wave back until he was out of site.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

I don't want to bore you but are you going to share a sister winchester story soon?

Hopefully. The one I’m working on right now (Useless part 2) I want to be kind of long, so it might take me a little longer. Plus I have a lot of school stuff coming due, but 🤞

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

★ soup, snuggles, and mr. wiggles // beau arlen.

synopsis. you're sick during a visit to montana, but your dad, comes to the rescue with chicken star soup, snacks, and your old childhood stuffed bear, reminding you that you're never too old to be cared for.

warning(s). fluffy fluff fluff | older daughter!reader | caregiving dad beau | mild illness (stomach bug) | nausea | fatigue | father-daughter bonding | nostalgia | childhood memories (beloved stuffed bear & favorite soup).

kari yaps. i love my pretty cowboy sheriff sososo much && literally don't have anything written for him + this idea was perfect for beau, because one im an older sister / daughter myself & two my brain was wired up @ 2am ???? n i took that opportunity to write. but i only got halfway & BARELY got to finishing it 2day.

you knew it was a bad idea the second you bit into the chicken sandwich. something about it tasted... off, but you hadn't eaten at all during your flight from houston to montana, and your stomach didn't give you much of a choice. by the time you arrived at the airbnb you rented, you were already feeling the first signs of regret—your stomach twisting uncomfortably, your body heavy with fatigue. you chalked it up to exhaustion from the drive, but when you woke up the next morning, nausea hit you like a freight train.

you'd planned today for weeks—just you and your dad, a father-daughter day he'd been talking about nonstop since you told him you were visiting. he'd even promised emily she'd get her turn after you left because, as he put it, "this one's special. just me and my girl." and now, lying on the couch of your airbnb, wrapped in a blanket, you felt guilt gnawing at you because there was no way you could keep those plans. your stomach rolled again, and you groaned, reaching for your phone to call him.

"hey, sweetheart," he answered on the first ring, his voice bright with excitement. "you ready for me to pick you up? i've got the whole day mapped out—breakfast, a little fishing, and maybe we can stop by that trail you liked last time."

you winced, both at the enthusiasm in his voice and the wave of nausea that hit you. "uh, about that…"

he instantly picked up on your tone. "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you said quickly, even though your voice was weak. "i just… i don't think i can make it today. i'm not feeling great."

"not feeling great how?" his voice lost its lightness, replaced by concern.

"it's nothing, dad. probably just something i ate. i just need to rest, that's all."

there was a pause, and you could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. "where are you staying again? that little airbnb by the creek?"

"dad, no, you don't have to—"

"i'll be there in twenty," he said firmly, already moving. "and don't even think about arguing with me."

you sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to stop him. "fine. okay, dad."

"what kind of dad would i be if i didn’t take care of my girl when she's sick?" he said, his voice softening. "sit tight, sweetheart. i'll be there soon."

true to his word, twenty minutes later, you heard the familiar rumble of his car pulling into the driveway. you managed to shuffle to the door, opening it just as he walked up, two large grocery bags in his hands and a determined look on his face.

"you look terrible," he said bluntly, though the warmth in his eyes softened the blow. "not that you're not still the prettiest thing i've ever seen."

"thanks, dad," you muttered, stepping aside to let him in. "just what every girl wants to hear."

he set the bags on the counter and turned to you, his hands on his hips. "all right, let's see what we've got here. crackers, ginger ale, that soup you used to love when you were little—chicken and stars, remember that?—and some popsicles, because you'd always ask for those when you were sick. oh, and a heating pad, in case you've got chills."

you felt a lump rise in your throat as you watched him unpack everything, his movements quick and efficient. he was always like this when you were a kid—hands-on, attentive, making sure you had everything you needed even when life got chaotic. and now, standing in your little airbnb kitchen, he looked just the same, though his beard was a little grayer and the lines around his eyes a little deeper.

"dad, you didn't have to do all this," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

he glanced at you, his expression softening. "yeah, i did. you're my kid, darlin'. it doesn't matter if you're five or twenty-five, i'm always gonna take care of you."

you blinked rapidly, willing the tears not to fall. "i suppose you're right."

he gave you a small smile before turning back to the bags. "and because i know you're gonna get crabby—don't deny it, you've always been a little bear when you're under the weather—I brought backup.” he pulled out a small stuffed bear, its brown fur worn and familiar. "found this guy in one of the storage boxes last week and figured you might need him."

you let out a surprised laugh, reaching for the bear. "oh my god, is this… is this mr. wiggles?"

"the one and only," he said, grinning. "thought he'd been retired, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

you hugged the bear to your chest, shaking your head. "you're ridiculous."

"and you love me for it," he said, nudging your shoulder gently. "now, go lie down. i'll heat up the soup and put on a movie."

you didn't argue, too tired and too grateful to protest. you curled up on the couch again, the blanket pulled snug around you and mr. wiggles tucked under your arm. a few minutes later, your dad appeared with a tray—soup, crackers, and a glass of ginger ale—and set it on the coffee table in front of you.

"all right, what's it gonna be?" he asked, grabbing the remote. "something funny? or one of those sappy movies you always make me watch?"

you smiled faintly. "sappy. but you're not allowed to complain."

"wouldn't dream of it," he said, settling into the recliner next to you. "though if i start crying, you're not allowed to tell anyone."

"deal," you said, your smile widening.

as the movie played, you found yourself relaxing for the first time all day. your dad stayed by your side, occasionally cracking jokes or making comments about the characters, his presence a constant comfort. and even though you felt awful, you couldn't help but feel a little better knowing he was there.

"thanks for coming, dad," you said softly as the credits rolled.

he reached over, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "always, sweetheart. you're stuck with your old man, whether you like it or not."

and in that moment, with the warmth of the blanket, the faint taste of ginger ale on your tongue, and your dad sitting nearby, you realized there was no place you’d rather be.

SPECIAL TAGS. @floralscented @titsout4jackles @deansbite @deanswidow @jasvtsc @beausling @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @lacydollette @lustagel @ultravi0lence14 @beausling @ostaramoon @rubyvhs @aileenunfiltered @bluestrd @jackleslvr @fallbhind . . . ૮っ ̫ _ ྀིა

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Would anybody be interested in a part 2 of Useless (that one really long demon Dean fic I wrote), where the little sister is struggling to stop treating Dean like demon Dean and Sam is super worried about it, and like throughout the fic there would be flashbacks of demon Dean being a jerk and the little sister’s trauma and stuff?

PS: this poll may honestly have nothing to do with whether I write this fic or not, I just wanted to know

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

hiii :) okay so what if, little!sister reader was with sam & dean during like a dangerous situation (not intentional of course) and she’s overall just so oblivious and has no idea what’s really going on, kinda like baby groot in the opening of gotg2 😅 like the boys would be so panicked trying to keep her safe and she’s in lalaland lol

Love this!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Clueless Shenanigans

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: the boys accidentally bring you (5 ish) into danger, but you don’t mind—because you have no idea what’s going on

“Dean, are you serious?” Sam kept his voice at a low hiss as he argued with his older brother.

“It’s just a couple of ghouls—blow off a couple heads and we’ll be out of there before she even wakes up,” Dean assured his little brother.

“Dean, she’s 5 years old, she shouldn’t be anywhere near ghouls—“

“Well I don’t want to leave her alone at the motel with demons after us,” Dean snapped, dropping his carefree facade. “This just seems like the lesser of two dangers until we can drop her off with Donna, ok?”

“Fine,” Sam sighed. “I get it.” Sam shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your slumbering form in the back seat.

“De?” You mumbled, tugging at Sam’s jacket and peaking an eye open.

“Shh,” Dean whispered. “Just go back to sleep. Lock Baby up if you hear anything, ok?” He said before shutting you in the car and toting his shot gun.

“We’ll be done before she wakes up, huh?” Sam grumbled.

“Quit whining, she’ll go right back to sleep,” Dean responded. “Now let’s go kill some ghouls.”

…

You did not go right back to sleep. Instead, you took Baby’s spare set of keys out of Sam’s jacket pocket and slid them into the ignition so that the radio sang to life. Then, you shuffled around in the glove box until you found a cassette—the one Sam let you play when Dean wasn’t in the car, which wasn’t often.

You cranked the sound, your favorite song ringing through the air as you slipped out of the Impala and started your own dance party.

…

“Dean, back door!” Sam yelled, rushing after the three ghouls that escaped the back way while Sam and Dean were taking out the few that attacked them.

Dean blew the head off the last ghoul in the house before following Sam outside, his mind reeling—

The ghouls were headed towards you.

…

Dean’s heart did a summersault when he saw you outside of the car, some chick song blasting from the Impala while you danced around barefoot in the grass. You looked like you didn’t have a care in the world as three ghouls approached you.

“Kid!” Dean alerted the ghouls to his presence by shouting, but he didn’t care. “Get in the car!”

“I can’t,” you insisted. “I locked it, just like you said!” Unperturbed, you went right back to dancing.

One ghoul rushed at you faster than the others—he would get there before Dean, there was no stopping it.

Bang!

The resounding echo of a gunshot caught Dean’s attention—Sam emerged from behind a tree, his shotgun raised.

The ghoul flopped to the ground minus a head, but you didn’t even notice it—instead, your focus was on Sam as you clapped your hands over your ear.

“That was loud!” You yelled. You gave Sam your “grumpy face” before you dropped your hands and turned your attention to Dean. “De, come dance with me!”

Dean’s attention on you distracted him from the ghouls until it was almost too late. When the closer one jumped at him, Dean swung his gun around and slammed it into the side of the ghoul’s head.

“Not now!” Dean replied. “I’m a little busy!”

The other ghoul was going after you again, but Sam jumped between you and the monster.

“Sammy!” You grinned. “Will you dance with me?”

“Just a second.” Sam offered you half a grin before he swung his gun around and blasted the head off the ghoul.

“Hey!” You whined, covering your ears.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Sam insisted, his gaze focused on his brother’s fight; Sam couldn’t get a clear shot of the ghoul without risking hitting Dean.

“Sammy, dance with me!” You tugged at your big brother’s sleeve.

“Hey, hey let’s get in the car ok?” Sam offered—if he couldn’t help Dean, he could at least keep you safe.

“I locked Baby, just like Dean said,” you answered. “De has the other keys.” Your eyes were finally starting to wander, so Sam grabbed onto your shoulders and swung you around to face him; he couldn’t let you see the headless bodies of the ghouls, he wouldn’t.

“You’re right, let-let’s dance ok?” Sam waved his arms around in the most ridiculous way he could think of. It worked—you were giggling, your attention completely on Sam even as Dean fired a round into the final ghoul.

“Hey what’s this?” Dean demanded, his keys jangling in his fist as he unlocked Baby. “Having a dance party while I do all the work?”

“Dance with us, De!” You demanded.

“Oh no no no.” Dean shook his head, reaching into the car and popping the cassette tape out. “Nu uh, none of this chick music while I’m in the car, no way.” He turned around and picked you up, dropping you down into the backseat of the car and smiling when you giggled. “Now you’re gonna sit here with me and listen to real music while Sammy finishes up work, ok?”

“Dean—“

Dean cranked his Metallica tape before Sam could start whining; “finishing up work” meant burning all the bodies—the worst part of hunting.

“Sorry, music’s too loud,” Dean mimed, and Sam rolled his eyes and turned around. Someone had to stay with you and keep you distracted from the gore and death around you, and Sam would have to live with the short straw this time around.

But he was gonna make Dean regret it on the next hunt.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Adding Texture Into Your Campaign

What is Texture?

I'm talking about all of the little details that add up to create a complete description. Texture is the color of a sword's hilt, the sound of distant rumbling thunder, or the smell of baked pies as one passes through a village. It's knowing the reason why the villain is so villainous, and hinting at secrets that are never revealed. Everything that makes the world feel like a place where people live, rather than just an exercise in problem-solving.

Chances are, you already have some texture in your game. If you are running a pre-published adventure or world, there are almost certainly many little details that you normally don't see in your homebrew adventures. The goal is to add enough texture into your game so that your players won't notice the difference between a store-bought adventure and a homebrew.

I use the word "texture" for these details because for me, they are the difference between a flat, predictable description and one that is alive and vibrant. When adding details to your game, your goal should be to have enough volume so that the descriptions blur together into a patina of verbal imagery.

Texture cannot exist in a vacuum; if one part of an image has texture and the remainder does not, it will be obvious. Players should not be able to pick out what is important to their plot based on the level of detail in your description. For example, pretend your DM gave you the following description:

You enter the wizard's study. There are some bookcases, a desk, and a chair. There are books all over the place, and a single red quill pen, eight inches in length, stands in a brass pot of ink on the desk.

Nine out of ten players will go immediately for the pen. Why? Because it was the only item in the room truly given texture. The rest of the area was painted in only in the broadest of strokes. If the DM was trying to set that quill up as a clue of some kind, he has now robbed the players of the opportunity to discover that on their own. Now, consider the following alternative:

You enter the wizard's study. A musty smell fills the air, and swirls of dust follow you as you move. A pair of oak bookcases sit on opposite sides of the room, each filled with leather-bound tomes in assorted shades of brown. On the left bookcase, one shelf has broken, spilling its contents over the shelf below and onto the floor. A massive desk, at least seven feet in length, fills the center of the room, with dozens of tiny brass-handled drawers. A large book lies open on the desk, near a single red quill pen, eight inches in length, standing in a brass pot of ink.

The DM has given the exact same description of the pen, but has instead hidden its importance by giving detailed accounts of the room's furnishings. He knows that the only important clue in the room is the pen, but the players do not. Their actions will thus deal with the entirety of the room rather than the metagame thinking that would lead them to the pen. One might decide to check out the broken bookshelf, another might want to check the desk drawers. If they eventually look at the pen and discover its relevance, they will feel that much more of a sense of accomplishment.

This example also illustrates one of the key features of texture: it is most often irrelevant. In other words, if the players have a mission to accomplish, most of the texture you put into your descriptions will have no direct bearing on that mission. But that's the point; if I go to mail my phone bill, the fact that I pass a parked police car on the way to the mailbox isn't important. It does, however, tell me something about the immediate area and what might be going on there. This is why adding texture to your game creates the illusion of reality; you are basically giving players proof that the world is turning with or without them.

Here are 5 simple ways you can add texture to a room or character description:

Color: People spend a lot of energy making sure the things they own are a pleasing color. Anywhere intelligent beings live, there is the opportunity for changing the color of the walls, the doors, the furniture, the upholstery, the curtains, etc. Of course, natural settings can also have a bewildering variety of unexpected color. Why talk about a tree when you can talk about an ancient, grey-barked tree with green mossy overgrowth climbing its branches?

Brokenness: Things break, often. Whether they have been repaired or not is a good indicator to the players about the level of attention a room receives. How well they are fixed might also be a clue; if the bookshelf was propped up with another book but generally left broken, it says that the owner doesn't care too much.

Juryrigging: Spaces are often not used in the manner for which they were designed. People tend to adapt a room or object to the purpose they require, rather than the crafter's intent. This is especially true of dungeons, where the current inhabitants almost certainly did not build the place. Think about how they may have altered the room's purpose, and what changes they might have made as a result.

Bodily Functions: Living creatures need to eat, sleep, eliminate, and possibly mate. If you set up a monster's lair in a location where the occupant cannot realistically achieve all of these needs, it will be far less believable. Likewise, NPCs also need to fulfill these functions, and often at the worst possible time.

Scars: Creatures who are surviving in the wild or who fight regularly should be scarred, especially if they do not have access to healing magic. Scars hint at a story that the player's don't know; they imply that the creature has lived an entire life up to the point when it appears "on screen". An Owlbear with a jagged scar across its beak is more memorable, and perhaps more fearsome, than one without.

Those are just my opening thoughts on the subject. I'll be posting more examples of Campaign Texture in the future. In the meantime, dm me! I'd love to hear about descriptions from your campaign of which you are particularly proud of!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Winchester sister reader that’s pregnant and annoying sam and Dean. Like them having to deal with her pregnancy cravings and helping her up cause her bump is too big

Loooove this!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Baby Preparations

Sam and Dean & pregnant little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you’re pregnant, that’s literally it, that’s the plot

Warnings: short and sweet, pregnancy and tooth-rotting fluff

“Sam!”

Your voice calling out Sam’s name had him doing a 180, heading back from the direction he’d came to find you. You were sitting on the floor of the War Room, and instead of the usual newspaper clippings and lore books, there were dozens of paint sample cards.

“You need something?” He asked.

You held out your hands to him, as if you were 6 years old again and asking to be carried.

“I can’t stand up,” you huffed. At Sam’s light snicker, you scowled. “It’s not funny! I can’t move!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” But Sam couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he helped you to your feet. “How’s my nephew doing?”

“He kicks like he’s a dang Winchester,” you grumbled, rubbing your stomach. “And every time he moves I have to pee, and he—“

“Ok, ok.” Sam stopped you, holding up his hands in surrender. “I get the picture, and I really don’t need to know more.”

“Coward,” you scoffed.

“Hey, when it comes to my baby sister’s pregnancy, you bet I am,” Sam admitted.

“Has anyone seen my pie?” Dean’s question could be heard before he even entered the room, a quizzical and grumpy expression on his face.

“The baby wanted it,” you answered, drawing an eye-roll and a huff from your oldest brother.

“Is that always gonna be your answer?” He demanded.

“Not always,” you admitted. “Just maybe another two months until this guy is eating his own food, not mine.”

Dean face twisted, but he didn’t argue—he never did anymore, and you took full advantage of it. Sam saw right through how you were playing Dean like a kazoo, but he didn’t comment on it; it was too much fun to watch.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “I’m gonna go on a run.”

Without a word, you pulled a piece of paper from your pocket and handed it to Dean.

“Again?” He demanded. “It better not be full of weird snacks again.”

“Last time wasn’t that weird,” you insisted.

“I’ve never bought so many pickles or marshmallows in my life,” Dean scoffed.

“It’s marshmallow fluff, not marshmallows,” you corrected.

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?” Dean asked.

“Because my stomach doesn’t fit behind the steering wheel anymore.” You grinned. “And you never let me drive Baby anyway, so you get to make the runs.”

“Fine,” Dean caved. “But if I see orange-flavored beef jerky on here again, I’m throwing the list away.”

…

“Hey Sam?”

Sam glanced up from his lore book to see you still staring at your paint samples.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“I can’t pick a color. Can you help?”

Sam shrugged, ditching his book and coming to your side.

“You really can’t pick?”

“I just…” you huffed. “I want it to be perfect.”

“I don’t really think the baby’s gonna care,” Sam argued.

You were quiet for a long moment, and Sam watched as you started to pick at your hands.

“Hey.” Sam’s hand over yours stilled you. “What’s got you all worked up?”

“I mean…we-we never got anything like this. You know, the rooms and—and a house. But Charlie will…and I want it to be perfect.”

Sam smiled—he loved hearing his nephew’s name, the one you’d chosen to honor your best friend—and rested his hands on your shoulder.

“Charlie doesn’t need the perfect room paint to have a happy childhood. He already has so much more than we had—he has a home, and he has a wonderful mother. He’s gonna grow up so happy—it’s not gonna be like how it was with us.”

“Ok.” You took a deep breath. “Ok, thanks Sam.”

“Any time. And you should totally choose the green.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

DAMSEL (2024) dir. Juan Carlos Fresnadillo

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Ok I got the wheels turning and now I can’t stop, because like—

It’s like Sam grew up with all this anger, fighting a war for a woman he couldn’t even remember, but then people started seeing him as a monster and he became afraid of his own anger, so he stuffed it down, and as he kept taking hits it beat him down until he just had to make a choice to let the anger consume him, or let it go, and (because he’s a strong and amazing man) he decided to become gentle and kind in a world where he rarely (if ever) got treated the same.

And Dean grew up the mediator between his father and brother, because they were the “main characters” in Dean’s mind—Dad was the one who was leading the charge to avenge Mom, and Sammy was the one Dean had to protect. So he shoved himself to the back of the story, and took on the mediator roll. But then Dad died and Sam started drinking demon blood and Dean realized that mediator didn’t work for him anymore, and he needed to take a stand hard and fast and loud. And then the hits kept coming and all that anger just grew, but he didn’t want Sam to see it, because Dean was scared of himself too, so we only see it when he can’t hold it in anymore (when he lost Mary or when he blew up in that hotel room with no one to witness his anger).

Anyone else find it interesting how Dean went from the quiet mediator 20-something man to the short-tempered, quick to tell 30-something man, and Sam did the exact opposite and went from the hot-headed guy to a gentle, soft-spoken man?

Idk I just think there’s something there.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Anyone else find it interesting how Dean went from the quiet mediator 20-something man to the short-tempered, quick to yell 30-something man, and Sam did the exact opposite and went from the hot-headed guy to a gentle, soft-spoken man?

Idk I just think there’s something there.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Just wanted to say you're doing such an amazing job!!! 💓

Thank you! 💜🤟

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hey, this is a personal experience, but can you write one that the sister is 4/5 yo, and she gets sick, but what starts with just a fever gets worse? Fever, puking, losing weight, not being able to eat anything but soup, tired all the time, headaches, diarrhea, basically being miserable? I was like this for 2 months and no doctor knew what was wrong with me, no medicine worked, the tests didn't show exactly what was happening, I took a lot of medicine that made everything worse, and I only got better because one doctor decided to give me a bunch of meds, all for different causes, and I did get better, but even now no one knows what exactly it was. Please and thank you!

Aww you bet! I’m glad you’re doing better now 💜. I had something like that when I was younger, but only for about a week. It turned out to be a kidney infection.