#dean winchester x little sister
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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 days ago
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Bad Week
Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Jody & Winchester!reader
Requested by Anonymous (x2)
Synopsis: you’re having a rough time of the month, and the boys need reinforcements
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“You’re officially disgusting.”
“And you’re officially crazy if you don’t think—“ Dean’s cut off his own argument when he stepped into the motel room to see you buried under a mountain of pillows, in a position that even an Olympic gymnast would find uncomfortable.
“You ok?” Sam asked, which earned him a groan in return.
“Why are you laying like that?” Dean questioned.
“Because it’s comfy,” came your muffled reply.
“There’s no—“ Dean stopped, then groaned. “Oh man, it’s…it’s that again, isn’t it?”
“That?” You scoffed, popping your head up. “Samuel, can you please teach our brother something called manners? I’d do it, but it would mean I’d have to get up.”
“Hey now.” Sam held up his hands in surrender. “Not my circus, not my monkeys, sorry kid.”
“They don’t have monkeys at the circus,” you huffed, dropping your head back down.
“You seem particularly cranky this time around,” Dean grumbled.
“Just leave me alone.” Your reply came out about two octaves too high, and Dean was alert instantly.
“Hey, you ok?”
“Go away!” You insisted, half-heartedly tossing a pillow at him that missed by a mile.
“Are you crying?” He asked, stepping over the pillow to come stand by your bed. “Did you take anything?”
“Advil didn’t do anything,” you whimpered. “Now leave me alone to die.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Dean said. Sam smacked his arm. “Ow!”
You moved a pillow just enough to glare at your brother.
“Ok, ok, I’m sorry.” Dean shrugged, backing away. “But I mean—you’ve had it for a few years—“ Dean ignored Sam’s continual arm-smacking. “So you’re used to it, right?”
“Oh, sure,” you groaned, pulling yourself up again. “Just like you get used to getting shot, or stabbed.” You dropped back down not a second later. “Besides, it’s worse this time.”
“Worse? Isn’t it just the same thing all the time?” Dean asked, and Sam gave up on smacking him.
“Samuel, if you don’t take him out of here I will kill him.”
“Alright, Sport.” Sam grabbed hold of Dean’s shoulder and started to drag him out. “Let’s go for a drive. Maybe on the road we’ll find a biology class.”
Sam and Dean returned an hour later, and for once Dean was actually quiet. When you heard the door opening, you tried to hide yourself under your blankets and pretend to be asleep, but it was too late.
“Are you crying?” This time when Dean asked, his voice was gentler. “Still feelin bad, huh?”
“Please go away.” You sniffled.
“I’m…I’ll be right back,” Dean said before stepping back out the door.
“I think I need your help.”
“What’s up?” Jody’s voice was tinged with worry. “Vamps? Demons?”
“Y/N,” Dean admitted. “She—uh—she’s having a bad day. Or week, I guess. Of the month.”
“She—“ Jody huffed. “And you’re calling me? It’s not her first, is it?”
“No,” Dean admitted. “But…it’s never been like this, I mean she’s yelling at everybody and she’s crying and—“
“Dean, that’s just being a teenager.”
“It’s not that,” Dean insisted. “She said it hurts more this month—I didn’t know that was even a thing—and I don’t know what to do. Look, it’s not an emergency, so if you can’t do this—“
“I’m not saying that,” Jody interrupted. “I just…it’s that bad?”
“Jody, I’ve stitched this kid up half a dozen times, I’ve watched her get a tattoo—she doesn’t even flinch! But she’s been in here crying for an hour—I don’t know what to do.”
“Ok. Then I’m coming.”
“Never fear, Mama Jody’s here.”
“Jody?” You rolled over in bed to see Jody stepping into the room bearing an armload of bags. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to visit my favorite Winchester,” Jody said, ignoring Dean’s affronted look. “And I brought some things for you.”
Your suspicious gaze went to Dean.
“You told her?!”
“Hey.” Dean shrugged. “You’re acting wack this time around, I needed backup.”
“You’re an idiot,” you grumbled.
“Yes he is,” Jody agreed. “Which is why I’m here. I’ve brought some things that might help and—“ Jody slowed her speech when she noticed the way you were glancing awkwardly from her to your brothers. “And your brothers—“ Jody looked right at Dean “—are going to leave us alone and go get you some…” Jody looked back at you.
“Wings?” You asked tentatively.
“Wings,” Jody demanded, turning back to Dean. “Go, shoo, bye.” She all but chased the boys out the door.
When the boys returned twenty minutes later, you were looking much more comfortable on your bed, set up with a water bottle and a heating blanket.
“Cassie called,” Jody told the boys. “So I’ve gotta be going. She’s all set up, the painkillers I gave her should kick in soon—“ Jody handed a bottle to Dean. “These are better for her than Advil right now. And if she has another week as bad as this one, you might want to take her to the doctor—sometimes months are worse than others, but it shouldn’t be this bad all the time.”
“Thank you, Jody.” Dean pulled the woman in for a hug, and she smiled and patted his back.
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“Hey! Are you guys gonna let me starve or what?”
Dean rolled his eyes, and Jody grinned as she gave one last wave, then left.
“I’m sorry I was a jerk,” you mumbled to Dean when he went to hand you your wings.
“Yeah…” Dean cringed. “Me too. But hey, we got food now. By the way, half of those are mine.”
At your glare, Dean laughed and pulled out another box.
“Just kidding, got my own. You think I’m sharing with you?”
You rolled your eyes, scooting over on your bed and patting the spot next to you.
“Join me, we gotta watch more Game of Thrones.”
“Not without me,” Sam insisted, jumping up on the empty bed.
“Hey De?” You mumbled as Dean grabbed for the remote.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Dean grinned.
“No problem, kid.”
Taglist:
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redbird-tf · 2 months ago
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Harmony
Sam winchester x younger sister x dean winchester
(More sam focused)
Summary: the brothers still had lots to learn about their sister, like the weight of her favorite harmony
Word count: 1.2k
Notes: the harmony i think of for reference
Warnings: angst, mention of death, violence
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To say it had been a tough day would be an understatement it had been a tough few months. You were having a hard time adjusting to finding out you had two brothers, Sam was struggling to step into the big brother role, and Dean seemed to be doing the best out of the three. Of course, Dean was shocked, but he had been a big brother for years. The only thing Dean struggled with was the guilt and anger that you had been in this life alone for years.Hunting together was also proving to be a challenge. Dean and Sam had teamed up for years, but your independent nature often clashed with their established rhythm, making hunts more difficult. It would take time before you could truly function as a team.
If the boys had learned anything about you it was that harmony you were always humming. It wasn’t from any song the boys recognized, but it was the same every time you hummed it. Sometimes they’d hear it even when you weren’t around, because of how ingrained it was in their mind. Right now it was serving as the source of Sam’s annoyance. “Y/n i can't focus with your humming” Sam snapped from the passenger seat. You were lying in the back half asleep and hadn't even noticed you were humming. You let out a huff, abruptly grumbling out a half-hearted “sorry” which seemed to irritate Sam more as he slammed his book shut. “You know what? I've had it up to here with you.” He exclaimed turning to face you. “What did i do!?” You shouted back sitting straight up. “UH, the bruise on my face!” He mocked pointing at his black eye. “Thats not my fault!” You rebuttal, furrowing your brows “It wouldn’t have happened if you had just followed the plan” he countered “Your plan didn't work!”
“Alright, enough!” Dean’s booming voice made you both fall silent. “We all messed up, alright? Now knock it off.” He stated firmly. The car stayed silent, but he could see you two exchanging glares from the corner of his eye “Stop looking at each other” Dean commanded, and in sync, you both slouched back with your arms crossed. “Why do I always gotta be the frick’n mom” dean mumbled under his breath.
———————
“This it, Sammy?” Dean questioned pulling over. Sam looked down at his map “Route 46, the last spotting of a vampire was here” Sam stated stepping out of the car. “Got the dead man's blood?” Dean asked watching Sam sling the bag over his shoulder. Sam nodded leading the way into the woods. “I've never seen a vampire before” you whispered to Dean to prevent Sam from hearing you. “Well their not easy…” Dean paused seeing the flicker of worry in your eyes “Dead man's blood is about the only thing that will kill them, and they come in packs…but so do we” he explained trying to ease your obvious concern of messing up.
“Over here” Sam gestured for you to catch up. “Thats it?” You asked quietly, eyeing the old barn “There's only three in there” Sam said lowering his binoculars. You watched as they prepared their knives by dowsing them in blood, “be careful with that,” Dean stated handing you a dagger. You all crept to the back of the barn and snuck in through a cracked window. You dropped in a bit louder than intended, prompting Sam to shush you, annoyance flashing across your face. Tiptoeing over to the sleeping vampires. You loomed over them, waiting for Dean’s signal and when you got it, you pushed your danger hard into the vamp. He scratched hard into your arm but you held firm, only pulling away when you were sure he was down for good. You turned to your brothers “That was easier than expected”
You quickly realized you had spoken too soon as your body slammed violently intk the ground and your vision became a red blur. A burning sensation spread across your face and loud noises overwhelmed you, causing you to scream out for your brothers “i can't see! I can't see anything!” You cried in pure terror. The last thing you heard was sams voice drawing near before everything went black.
——————-
“It's been over three hours Dean” Sam's voice wavered while he paced back and forth. “She’ll be fine” Dean reassured him, adjusting the bandage covering your eyes before leaning back in the chair at your bedside. “What if she hit her head too hard?” Sam stuttered out. “She's fine,” Dean said sternly, though part of him was trying to convince himself. “We should take her to the hospital,” Sam insisted, balling his fist. “And say what, Sam? My sister got scratched across the face by a vamp” Dean explained the harsh truth. Sam sighed looking down at you, his lip quivering. “I'm gonna grab a beer,” Dean said, rising from the chair knowing he held it together much longer.
Once Dean had left, Sam knelt by your side and took your hand in his. Guilt gnawed him, knowing the last thing he did was yell at you for something as simple as humming. What's worse is that he knew you hummed to comfort yourself. A detail he had picked up on over the months. He’d watched you hum yourself to sleep, after hunts, or when the world felt overwhelming. Sam bit his lip feeling his eyes begin to gloss over. How could he have been so cruel? How could he call himself a big brother?
He closed his eyes and began to hum the familiar harmony, seeking his own solace within it. “Mom?” Your voice rang, barely louder than a whisper. Sams's head shot up “Y/n” he breathed out. His body flooded with Relief. “Sam?” You became confused as you abruptly sat up. “Woah, easy there,” Sam said placing his hands on your shoulder to steady you. “I-I can't see” stammered, panic creeping back in. “I know. You got hurt and we had to stitch you up. I can remove the bandage if you want” he explained gently in an attempt to soothe you. You nodded and Sam began to slowly unravel the bandages. You looked around and saw the bunker walls surrounding you, your eyes beginning to uncontrollably water. As the fabric fell away, you took in the bunker walls surrounding you.
Your figures brushed over the stitches on your face, tears beginning to well in your eyes. Your reaction was making Sam nervous “We did the best we could, it shouldn’t scar too bad” he tried to reassure you, but You stayed silent, your gaze dropping to your lap. “I thought i died, i thought..” you paused, “i thought you were my mom” you muttered. Despite the circumstances, a small laugh escaped Sam's lips “Why would you think that?” He asked with a slight smirk. “You were humming her melody” you stated blankly. Sams's smile dropped, and the guilt he didn’t know could grow any larger, grew “y/n, I'm sorry…i didn't know” he apologized, moving to sit next to you. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, but you couldn’t muster the strength to look him in the eye.
“She's awake?” A voice shattered the tension as Dean rushed to your side, unintentionally pushing Sam aside. He embraced you tightly “you gave us a scare there, kid” he breathed out with a chuckle. You mumbled a sorry into his shoulder before pulling away to meet sams gaze. The eye contact took him by surprise and it took him a moment to gather his words “y/n, I'm sorry for snapping at you, you didn't deserve that.” He watched as your gaze softened, but continued to press on“And…i won't hum that again, i didn't know” he explained lowering his head. You shook your head “No Sam, it's ok. You do it perfectly and…” he gazed up at you again, seeing a smile tug at your lips “It's comforting” Your tender tone washed away the heaviness in his chest. Sam mouthed a thank you, taking your hand in his as his thumb glided over your knuckles.
“Did i miss something?” Dean questioned glancing between you and sam, a hint of frustration that made you both laugh. “No no…i just” Sam stopped, taking a moment to appreciate the happy version of you that had replaced the distressed one he’d seen just moments before. “I'm just learning what it means to be a big brother” Sam expressed with a wide smile. Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, then you can watch her while i get some shut-eye” he said, giving Sam’s shoulder a light pat. Sam tried to rebuttal, but Dean cut him off “you wanted to be the big brother, welcome to the job,” Dean teased. He shook his head until he felt you lean into him. He glanced over seeing how you relaxed against him. This is the brother he wanted to be.
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winniewritesstories · 23 days ago
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Taking After Them | Winchester!Reader
Some headcanons on what it would be like if you were just like your big brothers!!
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Taking after Dean:
Having the same taste in music, rocking out in Baby to Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Bob Seger, etc.
Driving Sam crazy because there's basically two of Dean
On movie nights, you and Dean basically act out the scenes for Rocky, every Clint Eastwood film, Die Hard, so on, there's really no need to even play the movie (Sam is dying inside)
Arguing over the last slice of pie
Stealing his clothes, especially band t shirts
Always begging Dean to let you drive Baby
Loving slasher films & Halloween, always planning costumes with him (but rarely getting to actually dress up as hunting gets in the way)
Making pop culture references with Dean
Being obsessed with bacon
Calling each other Batman & Robin
Being pretty flirty as you get older, Dean giving you pick up lines & tips
Him teaching you to fight & defend yourself, being proud of how strong you are but also scared for you
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Taking after Sam:
Always down for a library trip with Sam
Dean rolling his eyes at his "nerdy little siblings"
Arguing over the best fantasy books and films
Swapping & sharing books, talking about how you liked the book or what you didn't like
Eating your fair share of salads BUT you love pie almost as much as Dean does
Going through a break up and Sam playing Celine Dion at full volume while you cry
Talking about college when the time comes, Sam helping you with your admissions essays
Him helping you study by quizzing you, marking practice tests, etc.
Dean always complaining about how long you both take to wash your hair
Dragging Dean around museums, you & Sam having a great time & Dean losing his mind (he likes the gift shop though)
Sam teaching you Latin & lore, you helping him organise the Bunker's files & archives
Going for runs with him but complaining like 90% of the time
BUT overall I think you'd be a little bit like both of them while still being your own person. Growing up with little influence other than those two, it would impossible for you not to be like them.
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graphics from @saradika-graphics <3
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winchesterdefender · 2 months ago
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And Then There Were Three | Winchester Sister I
Summary - A baby shows up on the Winchester's doorstep, and their entire lives change.
Pairings/characters - John Winchester, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Meg Winchester (OFC), Sam & Dean Winchester x little sister, John Winchester x daughter
Warnings - very mild cursing, John Winchester
Language - English (British)
Word Count - 3,096
Notes - This is the first instalment of the Winchester Sister series featuring my OFC Meg Winchester! Please be kind <3
Credits - dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics
UPDATE - I have moved my writing to @winniewritesstories to make my writing easier to find than on this mess of a blog! I won't be taking this down but all future writing (for Meg and reader inserts) will be there!
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Dean Winchester was strong. He was brave, and fierce. He fought monsters - has done his whole life, as long as he can remember. He liked to think he was unbreakable, invincible. The hits kept coming, and he kept taking them. Fear, pain, worry - he pushed it all down, kept it locked away. In some ways, he had a heart of ice. He never broke.
Dean Winchester was strong.
And then one day, just before he turned nineteen, a baby appeared on a motel doorstep. A baby who wasn't his, but was. Would always be. A baby in a pram, with a note addressed to John Winchester, a note that eased the fears this baby was his, but it would be his, really. John Winchester was never a father. Not to him, not to Sam, and therefore not to this baby.
It was early October, and already Maine was cold. Dean's breath clouded in front of him in the cool, dark night. A glance around the parking lot revealed nobody, no cars, nothing to indicate where this baby had come from. His first instinct was to bring the baby in from the cold, and he did, careful to fix the salt line the wheels of the pram disturbed.
The first thing that struck Dean was that this kid was definitely a Winchester. They were a carbon copy of baby Sammy, same little button nose and eyes, barely any hair gracing their head. A memory tugged at the corners of his mind, four years old and holding Sammy for the first time, his mom supporting Sam's head while dad took a picture. Still a kid with two parents but keenly aware of his responsibility, of how his centre of gravity had shifted from himself to his baby brother.
But his mom wasn't here now and Dean would have to support this baby's head on his own. And his dad hadn't taken pictures of his kids since Mary died. So his centre of gravity shifted again to the baby in the pram. Another of John Winchester's kids for Dean to raise. Part of him was angry, part of him defeated. Sammy was fourteen, able to look after himself now. Dean didn't have to worry about him in the same way - Sam fed himself, did his homework, all that crap. Dean had almost been free.
But he couldn't blame the baby. He didn't. It didn't ask for this. Didn't understand anything. Dean reached a hand down, pulled the little yellow blanket away from their face. It was small, smaller than Sammy had been, and not just because Dean was grown now and over six foot. Small in a way that told him this baby was young. Small in a way that put fear into him. Small in a way that made him desperate to protect them from the horrors and cruelty of their world.
He felt sick knowing he could never protect them from that. From their lives. This baby was a Winchester, which basically meant it was fucked.
The bathroom door opened, and Sam walked out.
"What is that?" he asks, damp hair curling against his forehead.
"A baby," Dean replies, still looking down at them.
"A what?" Sam asks incredulously, crossing the room to stand by his brother. He looked down and saw there was, in fact, a baby. "The hell did this come from?"
"Was on the doorstep. Came with this." Dean said, handing Sam the unopened letter addressed to their father.
"It's dad's?" Sam was having a hard time digesting all this. He had to admit, his first thought was it was Dean's. "Where even is he?"
"Bar, I think. Reckon he knows about it?"
"If he knew he had another kid out there, don't ya think he would've mentioned it?"
"Yeah, 'cos Dad's a real open book." Dean replied. Sam turned the envelope over and made to open. "What're you doing? Don't do that, is addressed to Dad."
"Figured this might give us some answers. Maybe a name for the mystery baby."
Dean snatched the letter from his brother. "We ain't reading this til Dad has."
"Is Dad dating anyone?" Sam asked. "He's never mentioned anyone."
Dean shrugged a shoulder. "Doubt Dad dates. Probably a one time thing."
"And after he gave me the safe sex talk. Hypocrite." Sam said. Dean shot him a pointed look but didn't say anything. After all, Sam wasn't wrong. Dean'd received the John Winchester safe sex talk, too (an uncomfortable memory).
As if summoned, the rumble of the Impala's engine and the beams of her headlights signalled their father's arrival. The brothers exchanged a look, knowing that a mystery baby showing up on their doorstep would not go down well with John Winchester. Dean didn’t know why, but he positioned himself in front of the pram, standing between the baby and the door John would walk through. Sam copied him.
The door opened and John walked in, stepping over the salt line. He nodded his head towards his sons, locking the door and shrugging off his leather jacket. He turned around; neither Sam nor Dean had moved, or even said anything.
"What?" he asked gruffly.
"Um, so something kinda... turned up. For you." Dean started. John cocked an eyebrow.
"This ain't exactly our forwarding address. What is it and how'd it get here?" John asked, heading to the fridge for a beer.
"Well... it's..." Dean figured it was easier to just show him, so he stepped to the side and motioned for Sam to do the same.
John nearly dropped his beer. He immediately fixed his gaze on Dean.
"What did you do?" he asked. Dean sighed. Why'd everyone assume it was his?
"It's yours," Sam said bluntly, taking the letter from Dean's hand and holding it out for him. "Showed up on the doorstep with this."
This time John did drop his beer.
The bottle smashed on the floor, glass and alcohol flying everywhere. The sudden noise startled the baby awake, and they promptly burst out crying. John reached for the letter, Sam for a broom, which left Dean with the baby.
He gently lifted them out of the pram, careful of their head. The yellow blanket fell away slightly, revealing a light pink romper underneath. Presumably a girl then. A little sister. Dean rocked them gently, the way he remembers his mother doing with Sam, quietly shushing to calm her down.
In his arms, he was again struck by how small she was. He held her easily in just two hands, one under her head, the other on her back. She opened her eyes then, wide and blue like all babies, taking in the motel room around them before settling on Dean's face.
"Hello, you," he whispered, unable to keep the smile off his face. "I'm your big brother." His heart clenched in his chest as he held her.
"What's the letter say?" Sam asks, knelt on the floor to pick up the glass. John was staring intently at the letter in his hands.
"It's from her mother. Says she can't look after a baby. Too young."
"Jesus, Dad. How young?" Sam asks. Dean groans inwardly. Not the time for this, Sam.
"What the hell are you trying to ask?" John fired back. "She was early twenties. Drinking age, anyway. I don't know why the hell she'd think I'm any more capable of this than she would be. How the hell'd she even find us?" Sam and Dean both shrugged. How were they to know?
"What's her name?" Dean asked, still swaying gently back and forth.
"Amanda something. Don't really remember, to be honest. It was two nights. The sex was alright, nothing special. Didn't exchange numbers."
Sam and Dean cringed. They did not need details.
"I meant the baby, Dad." Dean replied. John at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed.
"Right, of course. Says here..." He scanned the letter. "Margaret." Dean screwed up his nose. That's an old lady name. His little sister was going to be cool, and that couldn't happen with a name like Margaret.
"That's a terrible name for a baby," Dean said aloud, looking down at her. "She doesn't look like a Margaret."
"Meg March was actually a Margaret," Sam said. John and Dean looked at him, perplexed. "Little Women? Louisa May Alcott?" More blank stares. Sam just rolled his eyes.
"Meg." Dean repeats, squinting his eyes at the baby. It fit. "Meg Winchester."
"It doesn't matter what she's called," John said. "We ain't keeping it." Dean's head snapped up.
"What?" Dean asked incredulously.
"How the hell are we going to look after a baby, Dean?" John asked. "We don't have a house, or any baby supplies. We're always on the move. We're hunters, not nannies. I spent two nights with a woman a year ago and then a baby appears. Kid's probably not even mine anyway. We'll take her to a fire station or something."
Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. They'd managed before. Sammy had been but six months old when they started hunting, and Dean - though he tried - hadn't been able to help out as much as he could now. This baby was family. Family is everything to the Winchester's.
"Course she's yours, Dad, look at her! She's a spitting image of Sammy as a baby. Besides, Sam was a baby and we raised him on the road. You can't just abandon her." Dean cried out.
"Maybe Dad is right, Dean. She'd be better off with a family - "
"We're her family! The three of us."
"A real family, with a mom, a dad, a house. She'd be normal, Dean, safe. We can't give her any of that!" Sam replied. True, he was projecting his own dreams onto a baby, but he had a valid point, or so he thought. All Dean heard, however, was that Sam didn't believe they were a real family.
"We are a real family, Sam. Just because we don't have a white picket fence, don't mean we ain't a real family. Besides, you really want this kid growing up in the system? Anything could happen to her!"
"Anything could happen to her here, Dean! All it takes is - is a spirit, or a pissed off monster out for revenge, and she-"
"But we can protect her from that. You think some civilian family would keep her safe if a monster decided to get revenge, Sammy? You have know idea what happens in the foster system. She could be abused, or trafficked, or-"
"Enough!" John snapped loudly, startling the baby again. He couldn't hear himself think. And he did need to think, long and hard, about what was best for them, and for the baby. Sam made a good point, of course, and God knows John's not equipped to look after a baby. But Dean was right, too. Anything could happen to her out there. "Sam, get me a beer."
Sam sighed but did as he was told. John walked over to Dean, who was gently rocking the baby to settle her after John's outburst. He looked at the baby for the first time, really looked at her. Dean was right; she was a carbon copy of baby Sam. And she was cute, too. Dean, admittedly, had been a funny looking baby, especially as a newborn, a squished face and large head he eventually grew into. But this baby - Meg, he reminded himself - was sweet looking, almost doll-like, with her pouty pink lips and button nose.
He and Mary had never talked about more kids - Sam had only been a baby when she died - but he'd always imagined them having one or two more, and he'd always wanted a little girl. Mary had, too, he had no doubt.
But Mary wasn't here, and this wasn't her baby. Part of him felt guilty, as though he'd been unfaithful, despite the fact she'd been dead almost fifteen years. John thought of his own father then, Henry, who'd taken off when John was only four, leaving him and his mother on their own. Even all these years later, he still felt bitter about it - bitter and hurt. Of course it hurt, knowing your own father didn't want you and took off into the night. And that's what he was about to do to this little girl. Her mother had already bailed. John was all she had left.
John, and his boys. Sam had kept his distance, almost wary of the baby in Dean's arms, but Dean - he was whipped. That was the only word for it. He was smiling softly down at her, cooing gently to soothe her. Deep down, John knew Dean would end up doing more for this baby than he ever could. But maybe that was a good thing. Dean wouldn't make the mistakes John did. Wouldn't leave her alone like he did, leave her to raise herself.
The guilt twisted in his gut like a knife, but he knew what he had to do.
"We'll keep her. It'll be safest for her. We'll... we'll make it work somehow. We'll have to." John said, placing a large, calloused hand gently on his daughter's head. Dean looked up at him with Mary's green eyes, raw hope etched onto his face.
"Yeah?" He asked softly. John nodded once, clapping his eldest son gently on the shoulder. Sam handed him a beer, then stood on Dean's other side.
"Can I hold her?" Sam asked. Dean looked reluctant to let her go.
"Be careful. She's really small and can't hold her head up on her own yet, so make sure you support it. Don't drop her, for God's sake." Dean rambled on as he gently shifted the infant into Sam's open arms, already fretting like a mother hen. John smiled softly at his children - all three of them.
Sam smiled at the baby, rocking her gently the way Dean had. "Hi, Meg. I'm gonna be your favourite big brother." He said. Dean rolled his eyes.
"No way, Sammy. I'm already her favourite."
"That's crap, she doesn't speak, can't even smile. You don't know that."
"Sure she can, she smiled at me just now."
"Yeah, that was gas, Dean. She farted on you." Sam replied, and Dean's smile faltered.
"Speaking of," Dean said, changing the conversation abruptly. "We're gonna need supplies. Diapers, a car seat, formula."
John nodded, moving to the pram that Meg had turned up in. There was a bag in the basket underneath the bassinet. John leafed through it quickly. "There's some stuff here," he said, holding up a muslin cloth and some diapers. "Enough for tonight, at least. We'll find somewhere in town tomorrow that sells baby stuff. Maybe pick up a book, too."
"A baby book?" Sam asked. "Why'd you need that?"
"It's been a long time since I did any of this, Sammy. Besides, I didn't do it on my own before, I was working a lot. Your mom... your mom looked after you guys most. Did all the hard stuff." John admitted quietly. The room fell into reverent silence the way it always did when someone brought up Mary. Sam didn't point out that he'd still been a baby when she died, and John had raised him for most of life alone. It didn't seem like the time. But a book seemed overboard, in Sam's opinion. How hard could a baby be?
Only a minute or so later, Sam's question was answered. Meg began fussing in his arms, quietly at first, but getting louder despite Sam's gentle shushing and swaying. When her cries turned to wails, he looked up at his father and brother, panic in his eyes. "I think I broke her."
It was Dean that stepped forward, plucking the baby from his arms. "You didn't break her," he assured Sam. John stepped up too, looking down at the infant whose fist she was trying to squeeze into her mouth.
"See how she's sucking her hand?" John spoke quietly. "Mean's she's hungry. C'mon Sam, I'll show you how to make a bottle. If I can work it out, that is."
Sam and John stepped away to prepare the formula. Dean watched them as he swayed the baby. "It's okay, princess. Daddy and Sammy will get you some food."
Dean watched his father, usually so confident and self assured in everything he did, falter at almost every step. Checking the instructions on the formula, then checking again. Rinsing a bottle and filling it with hot water. Hands hesitant, unsure of what they were doing. Hands that could assemble a shot gun in under a minute, but seemed to tremble as he shook the bottle. Testing the temperature on his palm, his wrist, then his wrist again. He had no idea how warm it should be.
Although it was strange to see John so unsteady, Dean found it strangely... comforting. Humanising, perhaps. He pictured briefly John doing the same thing for him as a baby, the unsure hands of a first time father. Pictured his mom along side, walking him through each step.
John handed the formula to Dean. "You gonna do it?" he asked. Dean nodded. He didn't want to relinquish the baby, even though John hadn't even held her yet. Although, he'd made no move to hold her either. John talked him through it, how to hold the bottle, at what angle, as best he could remember.
Dean paced slowly around the small living space of their motel room with his sister in his arms. Sam had pulled out some homework, John writing something in his journal, beer in hand. But for Dean, it was just him and his sister in the world. Hell, his sister was his world now.
Dean Winchester was strong.
But he could feel his heart thawing out for the baby in his arms. He knew he needed to be strong for her, yet he'd never felt so weak. The fear of what could happen to her, the need to keep her safe, was almost overwhelming. Was this parenthood?
The love, too, he supposed was overwhelming. The kind that made his heart clench, made him want to fix the world for her and burn it down at the same time. The kind he'd kill and die for.
And somehow, despite everything he'd seen and done in only eighteen years, this was the scariest thing he'd encountered to date. He kept it together for her. He was strong. He had to be.
He's Dean Winchester.
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inlovewhithafairytale · 10 months ago
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POV: The Winchester's have a little sister
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jasmines-library · 9 months ago
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Hiii!! Firstly, I love your writing and I hope you’re having a great day!! I was hoping to request a Winchester sibling fic where the reader is really comforted by physical touch but is really observant and receptive to the fact their brothers are emotionally constipated and touch starved so the reader has never really asked for it but then one day either just a bad day or bad hunt and the reader just asks the boys to hold them or one of them to sit in the back of the Impala with them? Thank you so so much and I hope you have a lovely day!! 🫶
So close, yet too far.
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⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤
Summary: You just really need a hug.
Word Count: 1k
Warnings: Touch Starved, character death mentioned, swearing
p.s. Sorry for the long wait! I've got exams at the moment so they're taking up a lot of my time.
⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧
⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤
Life as a hunter was never still. You were constantly moving. Constantly looking over your shoulder. Constantly chasing what could be your last day on earth. And you wouldn’t ever have said you regretted it. No. In fact, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Hunting creatures and saving the world? It was all You couldn’t have imagined a better life…
But sometimes you found yourself wanting life to just slow down for a minute. It was so hectic and you just needed a breath. A hug. With such a busy life, there was no time for just spending quality time with your brothers. Or anyone for that matter. It was an endless cycle: Wake up. Research. Hunt. Drive. Sleep. There was no time for sitting on the couch and watching cheesy movies together. Nor was there any time for curling up together like you used to do when you were smaller. You found yourself yearning for it. For a hug or simply just a gentle arm around your shoulder. It used to bring you so much comfort. But times were tough with all that had happened recently. The three of you were even more on edge than ever before. 
Your brothers had always told you that you could ask them for anything. That you could tell them whatever you wanted… but this wasn’t just something you could ask them for. You had seen how they often shunned away from touch. From relationships. Having seen so much pain and having lost so many people…they struggled to allow themselves to let their guard down enough to enjoy a tender moment. Even with you. So no matter how much you yearned for it you could never bring yourself to push the want from your mind and into words. 
So when the hunt went worse than you could have imagined you kept quiet. 
Dean’s hand was right there; peeking out from the hem of his flannel. His fingers were bloody and calloused, scarred and covered in small cuts and yet his touch was still tender. You felt your own fingers itch to reach out and lace them between his. You wanted for him or Sam to wrap you up in their arms and hold you close. To squeeze your hand. Or a shoulder. But you knew that they had much more pressing matters to deal with that overshadowed “needy little sister”. 
You trailed behind them, dragging your feet ever so slightly to kick up the dirt and leave trails between the orange leaves. You did not look up at your brothers because you knew you would see Dean's set jaw and Sam’s pinched eyebrows as they too mourned the hunt. 
A small boy had been caught by a shtriga. He had been no older than 5 or 6 with these big, blue eyes that got impossibly wider as the creature stalked toward him. And his scream…it pierced through the air like a beam of light: clear as day yet providing no clarity. No safety like light should bring. Instead it was cold and filled with a gripping terror. 
The three of you had been too slow. No matter how hard you dragged your stubborn limbs you couldn’t get to him fast enough. So now you trudged along in silence. 
The sight of Baby did not, in fact, provide you with the relief you thought it would. Instead the gleaming of the bonnet against the moonlight just made your stomach churn. You knew that you would all try to bury the memory in a box, deep in the back of your mind. But it was never that easy. They tried hard, but you would hear them late at night. Dean hardly slept as he tried to drink his troubles away and Sam barely left his room. And then there was you who lay awake staring blankly at the ceiling as you wept softly, wrapping your arms around yourself to curl up in a ball. It didn’t bring the same comfort as theirs did, like it had done when you were small and naive when you crawled into their bed after a nightmare. When things weren’t so fucking complicated. 
Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as you reached for the metal handle. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t sit in silence to be left with your own thoughts. You couldn’t be alone. Not right now. 
“Sammy…”  Your voice was quiet. Hushed. Barely a whisper pushed out on cracked lips that trembled. 
Sam paused, his hand halfway between where he had been picking at the hem of his jeans and the handle of the passenger door. He lifted his head, humming softly in acknowledgement. 
“Sit with me… Please.”
“Of course.” His face melted and he moved in one swift movement. 
He slid in the backseat, leaning against the door frame and stretching out across the seats. He pulled you in to lean against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You lay your head on his shoulder, snuggling into his side. And began to weep. 
“Kiddo?” Sam asked gently. “What’s up?” His hands traced small circles on your arm.
Dean reached over the back of the seat with a concerned look, though part of it could be easily mistaken for fear. “It’s not your fault, Sweetheart-” He started.
“Just…hold me. Please.” You clung onto Sam, your other hand reaching out to settle atop of Dean’s. Their touch was comforting, yet you couldn’t help the wavering as you wept. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 
And so they did. Sam nestled you further into his side, tucking your head beneath his chin and Dean clambered out of his seat to join the two of you in the back. He settled down on your other side, sandwiching you between the two of you. And they held you. They ran their fingers through your hair, held your hand and spoke to you. They held you tight and the three of you stayed close together, with no intention of moving any time soon.
⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤
SPN TAGS:
@defonotashleyr
@aestheticdaisies
@xxrougefangxx
@hell-o-kittys
@inlovewhithafairytale
@harleycao
⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤
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ellieslittleburrow · 4 months ago
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Summary : John Winchester, your father, is protective of you
Warnings : swearing and cute John
A/N : should we write more John Winchester?
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John Winchester, a man of many flaws. Sammy can attest to that, he suffered the most from John's decisions. Dean would stand against that, he's been John's boy since the day he was born. Dad this, dad that; That doesn't mean it isn't complicated, though.
You on the other hand.....umm....not suuuure where you stand really, where do you stand?
Everything felt different for you with John. Everything. His love for you was established since the beginning. He got a spark in his eyes whenever you were around that neither of his two boys ever got the chance to see, even Dean.
You were his baby girl.
There were the times where he stood up for you. The bullies??? Never stood a chance. There was that one time in particular when you got h-
"Hey! What did i tell you about slamming doors?" A scolding growl sounded, one that would usually....send shivers down your spine. This time it left you unbothered, or maybe fueled your anger even more.
In an attempt to not cry in front of the Great Winchester, you hurried to the bed assigned to you and threw yourself into a sleeping position, your back facing him.
"HEY" his growl grew angrier and you just hugged yourself. You didn't need him exploding your eardrums on top of everything else that had happened that day. His steps closed in on you and soon enough, your waist was gently being pulled back- you were facing him.
As his eyes navigated around your face, his features simultaniously softened. The creases shaped by the frown on your eyebrows, the sucked in lower lip, the damp eyelashes, all signs of-
"You were crying?" A stupid question that John needed no answer to. He somehow knew why, too. But he asked anyway. "Was it the kids at school?"
With that-you force yourself back on your side. "I told you not to force me into a new school."
Your mumble is muffled but John already knew what you were going to say-you've had this conversation many a times before.
"Come on" Your father tapped your butt before heading towards the door. And your curiosity itched your brain and you turned around, sitting up.
"Where are you going?" You asked and he glanced at you over his own shoulder, a mischivious smile embellishing his face.
"Just get your ass up."
Over in the car, John turned to you. "Do you know where this kid lives?"
You took your damn time to respond, both of you will get into trouble buuuuuuut.... A smirk ghosted your lips. "Yeaaaah?"
"Good, that saves us a lot of time."
You nervously chuckled. "A lot of time for what, dad?" The Impala roared as silence followed your question. You sort of understood. And as you directed him towards the bully's house, your stomach tightened in a mixture of excitement and anxiety.
"Right there, the Cayenne, his father's." You pointed at the car and your dad shamelessly parked his own only a few couples of meters away.
Another nervous chuckle left your lips as your head popped forward. Your eyes followed your dad as he jumped out of the car and headed for the trunk. The hood popped up for a minute and then your dad reappeared with what seemed to be a....BAT?
You jumped out of the car and distress shot through your veins. "Dad" You called for him but he'd already made up his mind and as you stressfullly walked behind him, he casually headed for the car, the bat vibrating in his hands. "Dad, you're gonna get us into trouble." You whispered as if whispering would make the crime your father is about to commit any less obvious.
But John totally ignored you and he swung the bat before sending it into the Cayenne's back window-the glass instantly chattered. You flinched and before you were even able to process the first hit, a second one echoed through the quiet neighborhood.
You flinched again. "Dad, st-"
"I'm only doing this for you, honey." John rounded the car and stopped at the front of the car. "If it were up to me, i'd slice the boy AND his father." The third swing hit harder, more violent. And the alarm continues blaring. "All he had to do was teach his son some manners. But since he can't do that, i'll teach 'em both a good lesson."
There's that story, and there's another one. Where you're being you, and for you, emotions have a like, a giant gravitational pull on your life-just like this time.
You and dad have been on the road for almost two days-stupid shapeshifters and it's that week of the month that's the most chaoti-- and this stupid fucking booth is weird and squishy and-
Your cheeks grew hot and wetness suddenly streamed down your face. When John noticed, he blew out a long sigh. He shut his eyes slowly, bringing his index and thumb to the opposite sides of his face, rubbing roughly.
Not fucking cool, dad. This shit's tiring enough. 'You know what-" You stop midsentence, rushing off to the bathroom but a sudden strain pulled you back.
"No-no, i'm sorry, honey, i'm sor-"
"I'm already tired enough." Your voice came out full and rough, heavy with the build up of saliva in your throat. "don't need you making fun of m-" You were about to yank your wrist away when he held it tighter.
"Come on that's not what's happening here." John swiftly got up and faced you. "I just-i'm tired too, kid. I-" He sighed again, and you wiped away your tears.
"Coooome here." Too slow but too sweet-and not a question either, your dad reached for the back of your head and brought it to his chest. He planted a kiss over your hair and gently swayed both of your bodies left and right. "Dad's here." His tone might've been gentle, but it still bore a hint of annoyance.
He doesn't mean-he "You don't mean that-you're just saying it because i'm-"
"Noo i do mean it, baby, i do-" he sighed once more. "I'm just tired. That's why i sound like this." He planted a second kiss on your forehead before boaring into your eyes. You dropped your gaze down in the process, too-
"I'm sorry." His thick eyebrows softened back to their normal position. And his bunny teeth appeared. Amused, he hesitated to speak for a few seconds. "You know you're too old for this right?"
You pinched his waist, causing him to jerk back, choking on a chuckle.
You sniffed, throwing embarassed glances his way. "Shut up."
"I'm sorry, honey."
What the hell is wrong with me? Is the first thought that comes to mind. There sure are many more stories to tell about the great John Winchester. But to sum it all up, you are indeed on his fucking side.
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@marvelfanfn2187a113
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WOO WOO, i hope yall made it to the end. See ya next time 🖤🖤🖤🥀🥀🥀
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outof-spite · 4 months ago
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WHERE ARE THEY
[07 August 2024, this is in Massachusetts btw! i was there for a conference]
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rustys-lodge · 1 year ago
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Requested by anon : Can you write a spn fic of dad sam/dean where she texts her dad from her room about needing help because depression gets really bad and she wants to self harm? And dad just helps her ride the wave and comforts her. Thank you
Warnings : Depression, self harm
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And without a single warning, the door to your room flew open. And there he was, standing with that empathetic smile on his face.
You'd believe it if you couldn't clearly see the worry glistening in his eyes.
"Is this where my beauty needs help for her sleep ?"
Your lips quivered and a whimper left your lips, causing your dad's shoulders to slump.
Nice try. But the wound is too deep to close up with a simple joke. And the joke is not funny. But your dad got the memo, since he flew to your bed and sat himself beside you.
"Scooch" He commanded before bringing your upper half over his chest. So you layed diagonally on the bed, with your back up to his chest, giving him scape to wrap his arms completely around your neck.
You needed that. Badly. And when your whimpers got louder, your dad hugged you tighter.
"It's bad, dad..." You choked on a sob.
"I know...kid...i know" Your father planted a kiss on your head. And his hands let you go....discreetly traveling down your arms.
He was checking to see if you'd flinch...that would mean you did it again. And you know this move because you've been through this as well.
Him randomly touching your arms, squeezing from time to time to see if it hurts you. At first you pretended like it didn't. But at some point, you realized there's no need to pretend. He knows.
"I didn't do it." You informed him and a slight sigh of relief hit your ear.
"That's my girl." Another kiss fell on the back of your back of your head. "Give me those hands."
You complied and your dad criss-crossed your arms and set your hands on your opposite shoulders, before bringing his own arms over yours.
"I'm here now, kid."
And as weird and narrow as it may have seemed. You were wrapped in a loving embrace.
And although your drowning thoughts were not ceasing, warmth flooded your body and your muscles tensed down...you hadn't slept in a while. It's been hard..Really hard.
With his arms still wrapped around your chest, your dad sung to you, considerably low, guiding you to sleep.
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Sorry for the never-changing ending. It seems that comfy fics cannot end any other way. Anyways, hope this helps someone on a lonely night !! ❤️❤️❤️⚘️⚘️⚘️
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pumpkinspiie · 4 months ago
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Hey guys! pump here, I published a story on wattpad and i was hoping you guys could show some love to it!
HARVEY
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sweetieyay2 · 1 month ago
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can someone tell me if I need to change something
I need to know if it's too fast or if it's just not good
Thank you 😊
i was five when it happened.
it was my birthday ... I could barely sleep the night before I was so excited to celebrate my birthday with my mom... so when morning came my mom and I went to the park for my fifth ...that was one of the best and worst days of my life ...
That night before bed ...she kissed me good night before she went to bed... That's when I heard her screaming and I ran into her room and I was so confused and scared when I couldn't find her …then blood started to drip from the ceiling…
I looked up and there she was ...stomach slashed open and bleeding there was so much blood... than the fire started it ...was so hot and I couldn't breathe.
I was so scared that I couldn't move.
that's when I felt someone grab me I was screaming for them to let me go ...but it was the firefighter's... they took me outside ...and there I met them ...my dad... John Winchester... and my two big brothers ...Dean and Sam
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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 months ago
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Burn Out
Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader
Requested by Anonymous
Synopsis: you try to juggle hunting with school, but one day you just can’t do it anymore.
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“Hey kid, we need you in the war room.”
The knock on your door followed by Sam’s voice had your head shooting up from its position on your notebook.
“What?” You mumbled under your breath, before you got your bearings. “Oh no…”
You looked down at the notebook in front of you—under the drool, there was a half-finished history report. It was due tomorrow, and you hadn’t been able to get started on it until an hour ago, because you and your brothers had been on a hunt. How could you have fallen asleep on it? You had to get this done!
“Y/N?” Sam knocked again. “Can you hear me?”
“I—yeah!” You closed your notebook—hunting was more important; people’s lives were more important. You could finish the report later. “I’m coming.”
“I think we should call it a night,” Dean said. You stole a glance at your watch as you put down the lore book that you weren’t even halfway through—it was almost 2 a.m.
“Good idea,” Sam agreed, slamming his own book shut and heading for his room.
“Go and get some sleep,” Dean told you, reaching over your shoulder and closing your book for you. “We can finish this tomorrow.”
You weren’t sure how that was possible, since tomorrow was a school day, but you didn’t argue with Dean. You stumbled back to your bedroom, heading not for your bed, but for your report.
You never did make it to your bed. You were pretty sure that you dozed a few times—or at least blinked really long—but you still ended up finishing your report in time.
As soon as it was done, you got yourself ready for school, taking a quick shower and hoping it was enough to make you look refreshed.
Your next stop was the kitchen; you were hoping you had enough time for some breakfast before Dean took you to school. Only, Dean wasn’t in the kitchen like he normally was. Curious, you checked the library, the war room, the shooting gallery, and finally the garage—not only were Sam and Dean not there, but neither was the Impala.
There were only a few options; a last-second hunt (except they would’ve told you they were going), the local library for more books (which hadn’t been necessary lately with all of the books in the bunker library), the grocery store (except the kitchen was fairly well stocked), or a diner for an excuse to get out of the bunker. You figured the last option was most likely—none of the others made sense, and the guys had to be stir-crazy after all the research. They must have wanted to let you sleep in, which meant they must also have forgotten you had school.
“It’s ok,” you mumbled to yourself. “I can still make it.” You’d have to skip breakfast, but if you ran you might still make it to class on time even without the Impala.
It was going to be a long day.
You didn’t make it in time, but you were fast enough to just get a tardy instead of an absence.
“Glad you could join us,” the teacher greeted as he gestured towards a seat—in the front.
You didn’t respond as you collapsed into the seat, reaching into your backpack to pull out your report when your phone buzzed.
Dean: Where r u?
So he had forgotten about school. He was probably too sleep-deprived to remember what day it was; you could relate to that. You were just typing out a response when you noticed a shadow over your desk.
“I’ll take your report,” your teacher stated, holding his hand out. “And your phone.”
“But I was just—“
“Your phone, please.”
You handed your phone and your report over without another word, hoping Dean would remember where you were on his own—the last thing you wanted was to freak him out.
“Now, if we’re done with distractions, we need to get started.”
You tried to get your phone back at the end of class, but your teacher assured you that—
“You’ll get it at the end of the day. Just stop by the office before you go home.”
—which was bad enough, but when he followed it up with—
“Oh, and I think you should take this back.” He held out your report.
“Wha—why?” You asked, your heart sinking.
“It was supposed to be three pages, not two. If you get it back to me tomorrow with three pages, I won’t have to dock as many points. I think it’s your best option.”
“Um—ok.” You took the report, hoping that you’d actually get the chance to get that third page by tomorrow.
“Just a page more,” your teacher said. “Maybe expound a little more on the individual paragraphs and you’ll be good. And try not to stay up too late doing it,” he added. “I’m guessing things have been pretty busy with you lately—you never used to forget stuff like this. Are you—“
“I’m fine,” you assured him. “I just…I have to get to class.”
You turned on your heel, and your teacher didn’t try to stop you. You knew he was just concerned about you, but in your life you couldn’t afford to have people be curious about you. It never turned out well.
And you just couldn’t take anything else going wrong.
You’d forgotten to bring your lunch or any money to buy some from the cafeteria, so you hid out in the bathroom for most of your lunch hour. You got told off by three separate teachers for dozing in class, and there was a pop quiz in the last period over reading that you hadn’t had time to do.
When the final bell rang, you couldn’t get out of your seat fast enough. You made a beeline for the office, hoping that your phone hadn’t been blown up with messages—hoping that Dean wasn’t freaking out.
You didn’t get a chance to find out; you’d forgotten to charge your phone last night, so by the time you picked it up from the secretary, it was dead.
“It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine,” you muttered to yourself over and over on the walk home. You would get home, your brothers would be fine, you’d take a little nap…
You opened the door to the bunker, but you didn’t make it halfway down the stairs before.
“Sam! She’s here!”
Dean caught you at the bottom of the stairs, his hands going to your shoulders, which he gripped tightly.
“What is wrong with you?! Where were you? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“Dean, I—“
Dean wasn’t listening.
“You can’t just disappear like that! Sam and I have been going insane! Of all the stupid, irresponsible things to do—“ Dean cut himself off, waving an angry hand in front of his face as if waving off the rant. He didn’t even notice the way your face was scrunching up, or the tears that were beginning to track down your cheeks. “You know what, forget about that. Forget about how you scared the crap out of us, and people are dying out there because we had to stop researching the hunt to look for you. Forget about how you made us think you coulda been dead. Where. Were. You?!” Dean’s grip was back on your shoulders, and he was shaking you. His face was tight with rage, his form towering over your own.
“I-I—“ your voice squeaked and broke, but Dean was still stiff with rage and waiting for your answer, so you tried again. Your voice was as tiny as you felt right now as you finally managed to choke out. “I was at school.” You didn’t notice the way Dean’s face changed—the anger melting from it as realization hit him like a train—because your eyes were too full of tears. “They—I—“ you wanted to tell him they took your phone, you wanted to tell him that you tried to find him before you left, you wanted to tell him you were doing your best…but you couldn’t. You couldn’t find it in you to give any excuses that could make him yell at you like that again. “I’m sorry, I…I’ll go help Sam with research.”
You ran past Dean, heading for the library.
“Dang it,” Dean mumbled under his breath, smacking the wall with his fist as he huffed. “So stupid, I’m so stupid!” He took a long moment to breathe, not wanting to look angry when he saw you again.
He had enough of a mess to fix already.
No one was in the library when you got there, so you went right to pulling books off the shelves.
After the first few books, you spotted one on a higher shelf. You were just reaching for it when you heard—
“Y/N!”
You turned around to see Sam heading right for you. You were already stumbling out an apology before he even reached you.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I thought you—“ you were blubbering, having not stopped crying since your encounter with Dean. Sam noticed immediately and his approach slowed as his hands rose innocently.
“Whoa, hey, it’s ok, you’re ok.” Sam continued to step forwards, but that just made you feel cornered against the bookshelf, and you started to panic as you couldn’t make yourself stop crying.
“I’m sorry Sammy, I was at school, I’m gonna help you now, I’m sorry I’m sorry—“
You didn’t notice the books slipping from your hands until they clattered to the floor. Your hands were starting to shake, and your knees were shaking so hard that you had to slowly lower yourself in a crouching position on the floor before you fell. You tucked your head into your knees, finally letting out all the stress of the past weeks as you sobbed.
“Hey hey hey…” Sam knelt down next to you and grabbed onto your shoulders. “It’s ok, just take some deep breaths. You’re ok.”
You could hardly breathe between sobs, but you tried your best to listen to your big brother’s instructions.
“Kid?” Your head lifted just a little when you heard Dean’s voice. He joined Sam next to you. “Slow down, sweetheart. Breathe.”
“I didn’t mean to,” you whimpered, taking deep breaths between words. “They took my phone and I didn’t know what—“
“It’s ok, don’t explain,” Dean insisted. “Just keep taking deep breaths for me, ok?”
“Ok.” You sniffled, grabbing on to Dean’s offered hand and breathing slowly until your sobs subsided.
“Good, good.” Dean sat back on his heels, running a hand over his face. “I should’ve slowed it down, I should’ve known we were burning you out.”
“I’m sorry,” you sniffled. “I thought maybe you would figure it out—I can help you now—“
“No, no” Sam interrupted. “This isn’t your fault, don’t apologize. And the research can wait—I think you should get some sleep.”
“And food,” Dean added. “Did you eat today?”
You rubbed your sleeve over your face, trying to stop your tears.
“You don’t have to baby me,” you said finally. “I-I can still help you guys.”
“Not today,” Sam countered. “And maybe not for a little while. We’ve been burning you out too much.”
“Look,” Dean added before you could argue. “Sometimes we can forget that you’re still just a kid, and you still have kid stuff to worry about—like school. That’s on us, not you. This isn’t your fault; we need to do better. And that starts with making sure you take care of yourself. So go get some food, and get some sleep. Everything else can wait, ok?”
You hesitated. “Ok.” You let your brothers help you to your feet, and then you couldn’t help yourself—you pulled Dean in for a hug, burying your head in his jacket. You felt his body shake a little as he chuckled.
“You’re ok kid,” he said, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“It’s ok,” you said, your voice muffled against his shirt.
“Ok.” Dean was smiling as you pulled away. “Now get going.”
Taglist:
@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz
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winniewritesstories · 28 days ago
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And Then There Were Three | Meg Winchester #1
Summary - A baby shows up on the Winchester's doorstep, and their entire lives change.
Pairings/characters - John Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Meg Winchester (OC)
Sam & Dean Winchester x little sister, John Winchester x daughter
Warnings - Mild cursing, John Winchester
Language - English (British)
Word Count - 3096
Notes - This is the first instalment in a series of one shots and headcanons about my OC Meg! Please be kind <3
Credits - dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics
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Dean Winchester was strong. He was brave, and fierce. He fought monsters - has done his whole life, as long as he can remember. He liked to think he was unbreakable, invincible. The hits kept coming, and he kept taking them. Fear, pain, worry - he pushed it all down, kept it locked away. In some ways, he had a heart of ice. He never broke.
Dean Winchester was strong.
 And then one day, just before he turned nineteen, a baby appeared on a motel doorstep. A baby who wasn't his, but was. Would always be. A baby in a pram, with a note addressed to John Winchester, a note that eased the fears this baby was his, but it would be his, really. John Winchester was never a father. Not to him, not to Sam, and therefore not to this baby. 
It was early October, and already Maine was cold. Dean's breath clouded in front of him in the cool, dark night. A glance around the parking lot revealed nobody, no cars, nothing to indicate where this baby had come from. His first instinct was to bring the baby in from the cold, and he did, careful to fix the salt line the wheels of the pram disturbed. 
The first thing that struck Dean was that this kid was definitely a Winchester. They were a carbon copy of baby Sammy, same little button nose and eyes, barely any hair gracing their head. A memory tugged at the corners of his mind, four years old and holding Sammy for the first time, his mom supporting Sam's head while dad took a picture. Still a kid with two parents but keenly aware of his responsibility, of how his centre of gravity had shifted from himself to his baby brother. 
But his mom wasn't here now and Dean would have to support this baby's head on his own. And his dad hadn't taken pictures of his kids since Mary died. So his centre of gravity shifted again to the baby in the pram. Another of John Winchester's kids for Dean to raise. Part of him was angry, part of him defeated. Sammy was fourteen, able to look after himself now. Dean didn't have to worry about him in the same way - Sam fed himself, did his homework, all that crap. Dean had almost been free. 
But he couldn't blame the baby. He didn't. It didn't ask for this. Didn't understand anything. Dean reached a hand down, pulled the little yellow blanket away from their face. It was small, smaller than Sammy had been, and not just because Dean was grown now and over six foot. Small in a way that told him this baby was young. Small in a way that put fear into him. Small in a way that made him desperate to protect them from the horrors and cruelty of their world.
He felt sick knowing he could never protect them from that. From their lives. This baby was a Winchester, which basically meant it was fucked.
The bathroom door opened, and Sam walked out.
"What is that?" he asks, damp hair curling against his forehead.
"A baby," Dean replies, still looking down at them.
"A what?" Sam asks incredulously, crossing the room to stand by his brother. He looked down and saw there was, in fact, a baby. "The hell did this come from?"
"Was on the doorstep. Came with this." Dean said, handing Sam the unopened letter addressed to their father.
"It's dad's?" Sam was having a hard time digesting all this. He had to admit, his first thought was it was Dean's. "Where even is he?"
"Bar, I think. Reckon he knows about it?"
"If he knew he had another kid out there, don't ya think he would've mentioned it?"
"Yeah, 'cos Dad's a real open book." Dean replied. Sam turned the envelope over and made to open. "What're you doing? Don't do that, is addressed to Dad."
"Figured this might give us some answers. Maybe a name for the mystery baby."
Dean snatched the letter from his brother. "We ain't reading this til Dad has."
"Is Dad dating anyone?" Sam asked. "He's never mentioned anyone."
Dean shrugged a shoulder. "Doubt Dad dates. Probably a one time thing."
"And after he gave me the safe sex talk. Hypocrite." Sam said. Dean shot him a pointed look but didn't say anything. After all, Sam wasn't wrong. Dean'd received the John Winchester safe sex talk, too (an uncomfortable memory).
As if summoned, the rumble of the Impala's engine and the beams of her headlights signalled their father's arrival. The brothers exchanged a look, knowing that a mystery baby showing up on their doorstep would not go down well with John Winchester. Dean didn’t know why, but he positioned himself in front of the pram, standing between the baby and the door John would walk through. Sam copied him.
 The door opened and John walked in, stepping over the salt line. He nodded his head towards his sons, locking the door and shrugging off his leather jacket. He turned around; neither Sam nor Dean had moved, or even said anything.
"What?" he asked gruffly.
"Um, so something kinda... turned up. For you." Dean started. John cocked an eyebrow.
"This ain't exactly our forwarding address. What is it and how'd it get here?" John asked, heading to the fridge for a beer.
"Well... it's..." Dean figured it was easier to just show him, so he stepped to the side and motioned for Sam to do the same.
John nearly dropped his beer. He immediately fixed his gaze on Dean.
"What did you do?" he asked. Dean sighed. Why'd everyone assume it was his?
"It's yours," Sam said bluntly, taking the letter from Dean's hand and holding it out for him. "Showed up on the doorstep with this."
This time John did drop his beer.
The bottle smashed on the floor, glass and alcohol flying everywhere. The sudden noise startled the baby awake, and they promptly burst out crying. John reached for the letter, Sam for a broom, which left Dean with the baby.
He gently lifted them out of the pram, careful of their head. The yellow blanket fell away slightly, revealing a light pink romper underneath. Presumably a girl then. A little sister. Dean rocked them gently, the way he remembers his mother doing with Sam, quietly shushing to calm her down.
In his arms, he was again struck by how small she was. He held her easily in just two hands, one under her head, the other on her back. She opened her eyes then, wide and blue like all babies, taking in the motel room around them before settling on Dean's face.
"Hello, you," he whispered, unable to keep the smile off his face. "I'm your big brother." His heart clenched in his chest as he held her.
"What's the letter say?" Sam asks, knelt on the floor to pick up the glass. John was staring intently at the letter in his hands.
"It's from her mother. Says she can't look after a baby. Too young."
"Jesus, Dad. How young?" Sam asks. Dean groans inwardly. Not the time for this, Sam.
"What the hell are you trying to ask?" John fired back. "She was early twenties. Drinking age, anyway. I don't know why the hell she'd think I'm any more capable of this than she would be. How the hell'd she even find us?" Sam and Dean both shrugged. How were they to know?
"What's her name?" Dean asked, still swaying gently back and forth.
"Amanda something. Don't really remember, to be honest. It was two nights. The sex was alright, nothing special. Didn't exchange numbers."
Sam and Dean cringed. They did not need details.
"I meant the baby, Dad." Dean replied. John at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed.
"Right, of course. Says here..." He scanned the letter. "Margaret." Dean screwed up his nose. That's an old lady name. His little sister was going to be cool, and that couldn't happen with a name like Margaret.
"That's a terrible name for a baby," Dean said aloud, looking down at her. "She doesn't look like a Margaret."
"Meg March was actually a Margaret," Sam said. John and Dean looked at him, perplexed. "Little Women? Louisa May Alcott?" More blank stares. Sam just rolled his eyes.
"Meg." Dean repeats, squinting his eyes at the baby. It fit. "Meg Winchester."
"It doesn't matter what she's called," John said. "We ain't keeping it." Dean's head snapped up.
"What?" Dean asked incredulously.
"How the hell are we going to look after a baby, Dean?" John asked. "We don't have a house, or any baby supplies. We're always on the move. We're hunters, not nannies. I spent two nights with a woman a year ago and then a baby appears. Kid's probably not even mine anyway. We'll take her to a fire station or something."
Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. They'd managed before. Sammy had been but six months old when they started hunting, and Dean - though he tried - hadn't been able to help out as much as he could now. This baby was family. Family is everything to the Winchester's.
"Course she's yours, Dad, look at her! She's a spitting image of Sammy as a baby. Besides, Sam was a baby and we raised him on the road. You can't just abandon her." Dean cried out.
"Maybe Dad is right, Dean. She'd be better off with a family - "
"We're her family! The three of us."
"A real family, with a mom, a dad, a house. She'd be normal, Dean, safe. We can't give her any of that!" Sam replied. True, he was projecting his own dreams onto a baby, but he had a valid point, or so he thought. All Dean heard, however, was that Sam didn't believe they were a real family.
"We are a real family, Sam. Just because we don't have a white picket fence, don't mean we ain't a real family. Besides, you really want this kid growing up in the system? Anything could happen to her!"
"Anything could happen to her here, Dean! All it takes is - is a spirit, or a pissed off monster out for revenge, and she-"
"But we can protect her from that. You think some civilian family would keep her safe if a monster decided to get revenge, Sammy? You have know idea what happens in the foster system. She could be abused, or trafficked, or-"
"Enough!" John snapped loudly, startling the baby again. He couldn't hear himself think. And he did need to think, long and hard, about what was best for them, and for the baby. Sam made a good point, of course, and God knows John's not equipped to look after a baby. But Dean was right, too. Anything could happen to her out there. "Sam, get me a beer."
Sam sighed but did as he was told. John walked over to Dean, who was gently rocking the baby to settle her after John's outburst. He looked at the baby for the first time, really looked at her. Dean was right; she was a carbon copy of baby Sam. And she was cute, too. Dean, admittedly, had been a funny looking baby, especially as a newborn, a squished face and large head he eventually grew into. But this baby - Meg, he reminded himself - was sweet looking, almost doll-like, with her pouty pink lips and button nose.
He and Mary had never talked about more kids - Sam had only been a baby when she died - but he'd always imagined them having one or two more, and he'd always wanted a little girl. Mary had, too, he had no doubt.
But Mary wasn't here, and this wasn't her baby. Part of him felt guilty, as though he'd been unfaithful, despite the fact she'd been dead almost fifteen years. John thought of his own father then, Henry, who'd taken off when John was only four, leaving him and his mother on their own. Even all these years later, he still felt bitter about it - bitter and hurt. Of course it hurt, knowing your own father didn't want you and took off into the night. And that's what he was about to do to this little girl. Her mother had already bailed. John was all she had left.
John, and his boys. Sam had kept his distance, almost wary of the baby in Dean's arms, but Dean - he was whipped. That was the only word for it. He was smiling softly down at her, cooing gently to soothe her. Deep down, John knew Dean would end up doing more for this baby than he ever could. But maybe that was a good thing. Dean wouldn't make the mistakes John did. Wouldn't leave her alone like he did, leave her to raise herself.
The guilt twisted in his gut like a knife, but he knew what he had to do.
"We'll keep her. It'll be safest for her. We'll... we'll make it work somehow. We'll have to." John said, placing a large, calloused hand gently on his daughter's head. Dean looked up at him with Mary's green eyes, raw hope etched onto his face.
"Yeah?" He asked softly. John nodded once, clapping his eldest son gently on the shoulder. Sam handed him a beer, then stood on Dean's other side.
"Can I hold her?" Sam asked. Dean looked reluctant to let her go.
"Be careful. She's really small and can't hold her head up on her own yet, so make sure you support it. Don't drop her, for God's sake." Dean rambled on as he gently shifted the infant into Sam's open arms, already fretting like a mother hen. John smiled softly at his children - all three of them.
Sam smiled at the baby, rocking her gently the way Dean had. "Hi, Meg. I'm gonna be your favourite big brother." He said. Dean rolled his eyes.
"No way, Sammy. I'm already her favourite."
"That's crap, she doesn't speak, can't even smile."
"Sure she can, she smiled at me just now."
"Yeah, that was gas, Dean. She farted on you." Sam replied, and Dean's smile faltered.
"Speaking of," Dean said, changing the conversation abruptly. "We're gonna need supplies. Diapers, a car seat, formula."
John nodded, moving to the pram that Meg had turned up in. There was a bag in the basket underneath the bassinet. John leafed through it quickly. "There's some stuff here," he said, holding up a muslin cloth and some diapers. "Enough for tonight, at least. We'll find somewhere in town tomorrow that sells baby stuff. Maybe pick up a book, too."
"A baby book?" Sam asked. "Why'd you need that?"
"It's been a long time since I did any of this, Sammy. Besides, I didn't do it on my own before, I was working a lot. Your mom... your mom looked after you guys most. Did all the hard stuff." John admitted quietly. The room fell into reverent silence the way it always did when someone brought up Mary. Sam didn't point out that he'd still been a baby when she died, and John had raised him for most of life alone. It didn't seem like the time. But a book seemed overboard, in Sam's opinion. How hard could a baby be?
Only a minute or so later, Sam's question was answered. Meg began fussing in his arms, quietly at first, but getting louder despite Sam's gentle shushing and swaying. When her cries turned to wails, he looked up at his father and brother, panic in his eyes. "I think I broke her."
It was Dean that stepped forward, plucking the baby from his arms. "You didn't break her," he assured Sam. John stepped up too, looking down at the infant whose fist she was trying to squeeze into her mouth.
"See how she's sucking her hand?" John spoke quietly. "Mean's she's hungry. C'mon Sam, I'll show you how to make a bottle. If I can work it out, that is."
Sam and John stepped away to prepare the formula. Dean watched them as he swayed the baby. "It's okay, princess. Daddy and Sammy will get you some food."
Dean watched his father, usually so confident and self assured in everything he did, falter at almost every step. Checking the instructions on the formula, then checking again. Rinsing a bottle and filling it with hot water. Hands hesitant, unsure of what they were doing. Hands that could assemble a shot gun in under a minute, but seemed to tremble as he shook the bottle. Testing the temperature on his palm, his wrist, then his wrist again. He had no idea how warm it should be.
Although it was strange to see John so unsteady, Dean found it strangely... comforting. Humanising, perhaps. He pictured briefly John doing the same thing for him as a baby, the unsure hands of a first time father. Pictured his mom along side, walking him through each step.
John handed the formula to Dean. "You gonna do it?" he asked. Dean nodded. He didn't want to relinquish the baby, even though John hadn't even held her yet. Although, he'd made no move to hold her either. John talked him through it, how to hold the bottle, at what angle, as best he could remember.
Dean paced slowly around the small living space of their motel room with his sister in his arms. Sam had pulled out some homework, John writing something in his journal, beer in hand. But for Dean, it was just him and his sister in the world. Hell, his sister was his world now.
Dean Winchester was strong.
But he could feel his heart thawing out for the baby in his arms. He knew he needed to be strong for her, yet he'd never felt so weak. The fear of what could happen to her, the need to keep her safe, was almost overwhelming. Was this parenthood?
The love, too, he supposed was overwhelming. The kind that made his heart clench, made him want to fix the world for her and burn it down at the same time. The kind he'd kill and die for.
And somehow, despite everything he'd seen and done in only eighteen years, this was the scariest thing he'd encountered to date. He kept it together for her. He was strong. He had to be.
He's Dean Winchester.
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Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it <3
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Hey looking for a fanfic for supernatural, it’s a Dean x Sam x little sister. Base off the David Bowie “Hey little Sister”. Plot of the story is three are driving either back from or two a case, and long car rides cause some fun times to be had. Smut for sure. I can’t remember who the author is, been trying to find it for a while, any help would be great.
@fictionalabyss
@winchesterenthusiast @winchesterprincessbride @wincestislove @wincestplease @wincesthaikus @wincestbritin @plus-size-reader @plussizeappreciationfics
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inlovewhithafairytale · 8 months ago
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01 x 01 Pilot part 1
"You're waiting in the car" is the first thing Dean says when he parks the '67 Chevy Impala in front of the apartments where their brother lived.
Yn scrunched up her nose and furrowed her eyebrows "dude. Why?"
"Cause I say so"
"Why do you get to see him before me? Its not fair" Yn says not backing up as her oldest brother got out of the car.
"Just stay in the car" Dean says slamming the car door shut behind him and making his way to the apartments.
The 15 year old leaned back against the car seat crossing her arms over her chest with a pout "not fair" she mumbled to herself.
****
Yn had nodded off to sleep resting her head against the car window as she waited for her brothers hoping that Sam would go with them.
"Why did you even leave her in the car?" Sam asked Dean as he walked next to him to the parking lot.
"She was sleeping" Dean lied. Truth be told, he didn't want Yn to get her hopes up to Sam coming, he knew that she missed their brother horribly and had cried herself to sleep when he first went away to Stanford.
Yn woke up to her brothers voices and the sound of the cars trunk being open. She grinned widely when she heard Sam's voice and quickly opened the car door and rushed to Sam jumping into his arms and hugging him tightly as she let out a series of happy squeals.
"Sammy I missed you so fucking much" she said as Sam laughed hugging her tightly back and giving her a spin before setting her back on the ground.
"I missed you so much too Yn. Wow, you've grown so much!" Sam looked her up and down a smile on his face as he looked at his little sister.
"Yeah. She turned 15 two months ago" Dean cut in a with an edge to his words.
"Dean. I know" Sam answered glaring slightly at his brother.
"But that doesn't matter. We're here" Yn cut in giving Dean a reproach in her look, turning back to Sam "so...are you coming with us to search for dad?" She asked him eyes begging him to come.
"Yes, but i have to be back by Monday" came Sam's reply as he ruffled her hair up a bit.
Yn pouted a bit at his words "oh well I guess"
"Yn, get back in the car" Dean told her.
"Why?" She asked turning to him eyebrows furrowed.
"I want to talk with Sam and you're on the way. Car. Now" Dean said closing the back of the car.
Yn have a dramatic sight "fine...." she muttered and got back in the car arms crossed over her chest and a frown on her face. When she walked behind Dean she stuck her tongue out at him making Sam stifle a laugh.
***
Dean knocked on the car window of the backseat startling Yn awake who sat up from the seat rubbing her eyes "what? Where are we?" She said groaning as she opened the car door.
"On our way to Jericho right now on a gas stop. Go to the bathroom" Dean said handing her a bottle of pear juice and a bag of cheese puffs "breakfast" he said simply and turning to Sam who was sitting shotgun he gestured to the other bag of chips he was holding"breakfast?"
Sam scoffed "no. How do you even give that to Yn?"
"Eh. I'm used to it." Yn said shrugging as Dean glared at his brother. Yn out her bag of chips and bottle of juice down on the leather seat and got out of the car stretching "I'm going to the bathroom" she said groaning a bit and walking past Dean into the small gas stop.
"How do you even buy stuff? Still on the credit card schemes?" Sam asked knowingly.
"Well, hunting isn't exactly a paying job" Dean shrugged as he walked to the other side of the car and got into the drivers seat.
"What names did you use this time?"
"Bert Afrahiam and his loving kids Hector and Evangeline Afrahiam" came the smug reply.
Sam gave a snort and a shake of his head turning his attention back to the cassette collection box Dean had "dude. You need to update your cassette collection. Black Sabath? Metallica? Ac/Dc? Who even listen to those anymore?"
"House rules Sammy, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole" Dean said taking one of the cassettes and putting it on the radio.
"Sammy it's a chubby 8 hear old. Its Sam."
"Sorry. Can't hear you. Music's too loud" Dean said as he turned the music up, back in black playing loudly through the speakers.
The backseat door opened and Yn slipped in wincing slightly at the loud music. "Dude. Lower it down a little"
"House rules booger driver picks the music and-" Dean start again as he drove away from the gas station.
"Yeah but backseat gets to lower the music. Tune it down a bit, I've got a headache" Yn said rolling her eyes a bit at him
Dean complies and puts the volume down just a little.
Sam turns to her a bit of concern flashing through his face "you've got a headache?"
"No. But I'll get one if Dean keeps putting the music so loud"yn answered
Dean rolled her eyes at her through the rear view mirror "just eat your vegetables"
"Yeah dad..." yn said mockingly as she opened her bag of cheese puffs and started eating.
***
Part two ... Flashbacks.a.k.a. younger years before season 1
if any of you have any ideas I am all ears <333
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jasmines-library · 5 months ago
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Could you do a Winchester sister fic about her having a bad asthma attack and not being able to breathe and the boys get all scared
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Breathe
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Note: First off i want to apologise for taking forever to write this. or anything. but we're back!
Word Count: 1k
Warnings: Asthma attack.
Honestly not too sure how I feel about this one….but it’s my first time writing in weeks so pls bear with.
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Your fist collided with the Demon’s face as you swung around to face her. If the insistent throbbing in your hand wasn’t an indicator of how hard you had hit her, the stream of dark droplets falling from her nose, and the grunt she made as she went careening sideways were. She bounced back quickly though. Much quicker than you would have liked. She scowled, her black eyes narrowing as you swung a fist back in retaliation forcing you to lean back uncomfortably on your heels. You heard a clatter to your left as an array of cutlery went flying across the floor as Sam managed to tackle the demon he was dealing with. The woman in front of you glared at you with malice as she heard her counterpart go down. With a little shrug, and a petty smirk, you continued to dance around her, trying to get a good stab at her with your angel blade. 
When you heard Dean breathe out a sigh of relief as he managed to deal with the latter of the ones he had been fighting, you didn’t allow yourself to get distracted and keep your focus on her. Distraction is a hunters number one enemy. But you can feel yourself getting tired. You can feel the burn in your muscles and the ache in your lungs as it grows harder and harder to suck air into them. 
But then she made a mistake: She twisted to the side, raising her arm to swing a left hook, but left her right side open. It gave you the perfect opportunity, and you plunged the demon knife into her. She lit up in a spark of yellow before falling to the ground. 
It was straight after that that everything sort of…hit you. Now that you weren’t focused on ‘not-dying’, the tightness in your chest was more noticeable. And that made you panic. And of course, that made everything much worse. Clutching one hand to your chest and the other against the wall, you tried to get in another breath, only for it to feel as though it had been cut short. When Sam came through the door, his self-accomplished grin was cut short as he saw you struggling to breathe. 
“Hey, Hey.” Sam rushed over to you, his hand resting on your shoulder as you looked up at him, wide-eyes and breathing in short, frantic gasps. “Hey. Calm down. You’re fine. Breathe”
You try to listen to Sam. Try to get your lungs to open up and to breathe normally. But they are stubborn and seem to do the exact opposite. 
Sam’s heart seems to break a little when you look up at him. “Where’s your inhaler?”
You blink. Your chest heaves. “Car-”
Your older brother curses mentally, and you think that he calls out to Dean, because he’s rounding the corner one second and is hovering above you the next. 
“Dean…her inhaler. It’s in the car. Side pocket.” Sam tells his older brother, his tone firm and authoritative. Dean nodding, his hair falling over his eyes as he scrambles back out of the house, swerving around the fallen demons to get to the car as quickly as he can.
Sam’s hands remain on your shoulders. His large hands take up most of your shoulder as they rest on the coloured flannel of your shirt. They’re calloused and rough, but seem to act almost as a safety blanket keeping you grounded. He shifts one of them to your chin, pinching it gently between his thumb and his index finger as he lifts up your chin. His irises seem to shift in the light as he gets you to look at him. Hazel brown, then green and back to hazel again. They’re glossy, concerned, but hold a sense of ease. Protectiveness. 
“You’re okay, Kiddo. Just breathe. Dean will be back any second now.” Sam reassures, although he is unsure if he’s trying to reassure you or himself more. He’s panicking. And, he's beginning to grow antsy because Dean has yet to return from the car which he parked so impossibly far away. Damn stealth. 
An impossible amount of time later less than a minute Dean comes skidding to a halt, inhaler in hand. Dean has already shaken it and removed the cap, so he fumbles around to get it in your hand. Once your fingers wrap around the plastic your brain goes into autopilot. The plastic is quickly brought to your lips and the medicine pumped into your lungs as you inhale deeply. It doesn’t take long for the medicine to work its magic. You feel the burn in your lungs subside slightly, and a flood of air comes rushing into your lungs as you breathe deeply, leaning against the wall as you collect yourself, taking a moment to yourself. 
Dean raises a hand towards you, brushing the hair out of your face. “You okay sweetheart?”
“I……” You take another deep breath. “Yea. sorry.”
“No need to apologise, kid.” Dean says “As long as you’re alright.”
“I’m fine.” you say, taking one last puff of the inhaler before replacing the cap and securing it in your pocket. 
“You have seriously got to start remembering to bring that with you.” Sam reprimands, always the sensible one.
You sigh. “I know. But it’s so annoying to carry around.”
“We know it is, sweetheart, but you kind of need it”
“I know…..”
“So you’ll bring it with you?”
“No promises.”
Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. He swears you give him more and more grey hairs everyday. You just grin up at him and he can’t help but shake his head affectionately at your stubbornness.
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SPN TAGS:
@defonotashleyr @aestheticdaisies @xxrougefangxx
@hell-o-kittys @inlovewhithafairytale @harleycao
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