#sister spn

[inlovewhithafairytale]

POV: Dating Dean Winchester....

[lady-bizarre]

DUDE

[annaruby]

hm. thinking.

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Y/N: Can I have more some candy, De?

Dean: What did Sam say?

Y/N: He said no

Dean: Then why would I say yes?

Y/N: Cause he’s not the boss of you

Dean: *internally* It’s a trap, it’s a trap, it’s a-

[sammyluvr]

✶ . ၄၃ . easy, maybe — sam and dean w.

cw : gn!winchester!reader, hurt/comfort, reader’s the middle sibling, peacekeeper/selfless(?) reader, blood, injury & pain, stitches, nicknames (bud), poorly edited, no y/n, 3K words. requested !

summary : you try to hide a bad injury after a hunt. sam and dean patch you up, and spend the night worrying until you wake.

it’s not as hard being easy as some people might think. maybe that’s because it’s all you know how to be. the easy one, the quiet one, the peacekeeper, the blend into the background and don’t worry about me one. and it’s not that you’re weak-willed or unopinionated; there are times when you put your foot down, times when you argue, times when you’re petty or annoying or grumpy because you’re legitimately upset or possibly just a little too hungry.

one must note that easy does not mean perfect. it just means that you let sam ride shotgun despite being two years older. it means you take the couch most nights, you’re often impressively polite, and you patch up your own injuries in the bathroom before helping your brothers out. it means you let annoying little things slide, you pick up food when the other two are too tired to drive, you take care of the most tedious or boring tasks, and you tend not to get into any trouble with law enforcement or regular citizens. life is just easier for you all when sam and dean don’t have to worry about you too much.

naturally, you’ve developed quite a pain tolerance over the years of hunting and killing and nearly being killed; all three of you have. but you have become concerningly and particularly excellent at hiding wounds. it’s mostly about the breathing, you’ve decided. if you can hide the blood, move without any apparent stiffness, and keep your breathing even and normal, then sam and dean tend not to notice. they’ve got enough to worry about, you think.

but, unfortunately, there's certain things you can't quite hide, no matter how good of a little actor you can be. there's just far too much blood, more than you think you've ever bled from any one wound. it's not arterial, that much you know; you're familiar enough with basic anatomy to understand that a knife to your lower left side shouldn't be piercing any main veins or arteries. but it is soaking through your jacket and you're getting lightheaded. and you're almost to the impala, you remind yourself. you can make it that far, you're sure. if you just keep breathing, watching dean's trudging form as the distance between the two of you grows while your sluggish footsteps slow... if you just keep breathing, you're sure you can make it.

the leaves under your feet hush your footsteps, soft and soaked from this morning’s rain. dean doesn't question the fact that he can't hear you right behind him; you're quiet nearly all the time. the growing fog in your head makes you stumble. you slip, deprived of the bearings or stability you'd need to right yourself. the softened soil welcomes the crumple of your body, but your cheek scrapes on a ragged twig embedded in the ground. the dampness of the earth swallows any loudness to your fall, the little strangled noise that leaves your lips in surprise and hot white pain. the twig that draws a line of blood across your cheek doesn't even snap.

but you can't fall in complete silence; there's a rustle and a dull thud and dean's ears are attuned to listen for you and sam. he hears your grunt of pain, regardless of how quiet the sound is. he's immediately on high alert, spinning around and holding his gun at the ready. for split second, he thinks you've disappeared completely. he didn't know you'd been falling behind, twilight is ending, and your brown jacket melts into the color of the ground. but he's got keen eyes and spots you quickly.

"shit," he curses under his breath, all but sprinting back to you, long legs clearing logs and rocks without any fuss. before he's dropped to his knees by your side, he's already asking, "hey, hey, hey, talk to me, bud. what happened?"

you've managed to twist over onto your back by the time he gets there, though not without much effort. there's dirt clinging to the side of your face and wet leaves stuck to your clothes. it's become too dark for dean to see the spread of blood on your jacket.

"just a... just a cut," you breathe out. your voice doesn't sound quite right and it sets off blaring alarms in dean's head.

"where?" he demands, not harshly. his flashlight clicks on and you squint at the sudden brightness. he doesn't need you to answer. his free hand doesn't hesitate to move your bloodied jacket out of the way, and he sucks in a sharp breath before he even sees the full extent of the wound. his fingers gather up your soaked through shirt and gently peel the fabric away from your skin. "jesus, what the hell? when did this happen? just a cut?" he asks, bewildered and beyond concerned.

"b-before," you answer unhelpfully. "it's fine. help me up." you don't feel fine at all. your head pounds and your limbs are heavy and your voice is tight with pain.

dean scoffs, pulling off his jacket with an almost panicked urgency. "you were stabbed, are you crazy?" he accuses, sounding much more worried than actually angry. he messily folds up his jacket, not hesitating to push it against your wound, not so gentle in an effort to slow the bleeding. you grunt and he frowns deeper.

"more like a… a slash… less- less stabby. 's not that bad," you mumble, completely unconvincing.

dean's jaw clenches like he disagreed. "sammy'll fix you up," is all he says. "c'mon, let's get you up. you'll be just fine." dean knows that you prefer patching yourself up. he knows that you don't like letting them see you injured. but this is bad, he thinks, and his blood boils and his heart lurches at the thought that you tried to hide it.

sam, stuck in the motel with his healing broken arm, doesn’t expect much but a “we’re on the way back” sort of phone call from dean when he answers the ringing tone. dean himself is barely paying any attention to the phone. he should be paying attention to the road, but his eyes flick over to you often, and linger for too long. the first thing that sam hears over the phone is the muffled honk of a car horn.

then comes a quiet, “shit. i’m sorry, bud. you’re alright,” from dean. he doesn’t hear the little sound of pain you made when dean had to swerve the car.

“dean?” sam says, voice plainly worried. dean sounds off. “what’s going on?”

“sammy,” dean breathes, uncharacteristically afraid, “they’re bleeding bad. need you to be ready to stitch ‘em up when we get there. five minutes.”

“where? how bad?” sam asks in a rush, already standing and searching for a medical kit. there’s one on the coffee table.

“lower left side,” dean answers, voice a bit more sure when he can actually give a solid, factual answer. then it falters. “just– bad. real bad. they’re barely awake.”

“dammit,” sam mutters. he wants to ask what happened, but dean sounds like he’s driving recklessly through the panic of your injury. he doesn’t want to add anything else for him to think about. “you sure you shouldn’t be headed to the hospital?”

dean shakes his head, then glances at you and your heavy lidded eyes. “nearest one’s too far. you’re closer.”

“okay. alright. just– just drive safe and keep them talking,” sam says at the risk of angering dean in his precarious mental state. asking him to drive safe is a bit silly, and he already knows to keep you talking. 

but dean doesn’t retort, he just spares you another glance. “keep those eyes open for me,” he urges, leaving it up to sam to hang up the phone. he only does so in order to focus on gathering the right supplies for you. and when the impala pulls up into the parking space right in front of tonight’s motel room, sam’s waiting outside by the pale yellow door with a janky metal ‘17’ on the front. he’s at the passenger’s side before dean’s even turned the car off.

you’re leaning against the car door, so he’s precise and careful when he opens it, reaching in with one hand first and cupping the side of your neck to keep you steady while he slips in closer to you. 

“hey,” he says gently, hiding his fear. he’s not sure he can deal with all this shit without you. you’ve always been such a steadying presence. dean’s jacket that you keep clutched to your wound with shaky hands is all bloodied, and the only thing sam knows is that dean said it’s real bad.

dean’s there, opening the door the rest of the way so that sam can bend down and pull you into his arms. first goes your head to his chest, then his arms wrapping around your shoulders and tucking under your knees.

“there we go,” sam murmurs, wincing softly when the movement pulls a groan of pain from your lips. “can you talk to me?” he’s swift and gentle in his movements, getting you through the door and to the bed with the least amount of discomfort for you that he can.

“it’s okay, sammy,” you mumble in response to his request. of course that’s what you’d say. dean frowns, barely able to hear your words despite how close behind sam he hovers.

“yeah,” sam agrees, laying you out on the bed, pulling the ruined jacket away from your wound and gently moving your own clothing out of the way. it’s not a pretty sight, but the bleeding’s slowed enough for him to see that maybe it’s not as bad as they thought. stitches should do the trick, you’re just all messed up from the blood loss. “it is okay,” he confirms, “you’ll be okay.” 

as he soaks a clean rag with alcohol, sam wonders when the last time he’s stitched you up was. it must’ve been a while ago. he even can’t easily think of the last time he helped you deal with any injury. right now, it’s his job to stay calm and patch you up, but the way you said it’s okay, sammy, made him want to act a bit like the baby of the family. he wants to hug you. it doesn’t make him feel small, though, just extra responsible for making sure you’ll be alright. you’re always taking care of him and dean, even if it’s just in the smaller ways, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t fix this for you.

dean’s hands are far more tender than usual as he holds yours. sam cleans your wound, and you don’t react much. it worries them both, but sam assures that it’s not as bad as it seemed before.

the cast over sam’s wrist and forearm doesn’t make giving you stitches all that easy, but he manages. his big hands are somehow always much nimbler than dean’s, the stitches he produces less crude. but no matter how used to the feeling of a few stitches you are, once he gets to the sixth, you’re not sure you can stay awake any longer. you hate the feeling of the needle and thread going through your skin.

you give dean’s hand a weak squeeze. “’m gonna pass out,” you slur in warning. his eyes widen in worry. sam tries to stay focused, but his frown deepens. he’d much rather you didn’t, but he thinks you’ll be alright.

“hey, hey, hey, no. stay with us,” dean urges, brushing his fingers over your forehead. “you’re fine now, just stay awake, bud. look at me.” you meet his gaze with drooping eyelids and a weak frown. you feel bad for making him worry like this. 

“’m sorry,” you mumble, “so tired.” you close your eyes against his wishes, and your hand goes limp in his. 

“dammit,” sam whispers, noticing the way your muscles all go slack. dean’s not so quiet when he curses, standing up angrily. as sam finishes the stitches, dean paces, hands in fists.

“it’s my damn fault, sammy,” he growls. if sam looked up, the tears in dean’s otherwise angry eyes would betray his blatant concern for you. “i wasn’t paying attention.” sam worries now that dean’ll start throwing things. he doesn’t deal well with his little siblings getting hurt.

“they’re okay. seriously,” sam insists. really though, he’s worried out of his mind. freaking out won’t help him give you effective stitches, so he just focuses on the silent promise he’s made to take care of you. “they’ll heal. the stitches will be enough,” he says, instead of asking what happened to avoid upsetting dean further. dean returns to your side just as sam finishes the last stitch. he dresses the wound with a bit of help from dean, but mostly, the oldest just combs through loose strands of your hair, picking out dried leaves and twigs. dean cleans the little cut on your face too, wiping away the dirt from when you fell.

he holds you gently upright as sam trades your bloodstained jacket and top for a simple long sleeve crewneck shirt to keep you comfortable and warm as you rest. he monitors your pulse and constantly checks your breathing, and his nervous behavior doesn’t go unnoticed by dean. but your heartbeat remains steady and the soft sound of your breathing is the only thing that can be heard at times. it’s comforting to them both, taking turns by your side, though they’re most certainly overly concerned now that your body is set to start mending.

you sleep a long while, long enough that dean starts pacing again when he tires of sitting on the edge of the other bed with his head in his hands. sam sits in a chair by your side. he dozes lightly for a bit, until the sun rises and brightens the room through half opened curtains. dean’s asleep on the couch when sam comes back around, despite the completely free bed. when he wakes, dean makes coffee for him and sam, brooding the whole while. he still looks like he’s holding back the urge to throw a rickety motel chair into the wall, but he’s a bit more blatantly anxious than angry by now. he holds your hand for a little while before you wake up.

you start to stir at 9:37 in the morning, which means you’ve been sleeping for almost ten hours. sam had checked the time when you passed out, in the midst of all his worry as he stitched you up. but no one catches the time. you, of course, are not checking the time. you’re barely awake. dean doesn’t think to check the time, he’s much more concerned about the light rustle of the bed sheets that he hears coming from your direction. and sam is drying his hands in the bathroom. he probably wouldn’t care to check the time either even if he were standing right by the clock. he hears dean say your name through the thin bathroom door, quiet and nervous. the hand towel slips off the rack in his rush to get to you.

dean’s sitting by your side, both of his hands wrapping around yours. “hey,” he murmurs, soft and glad to see your eyelids fluttering. you see the water stained ceiling of the motel room and feel the end of the bed dipping by your feet, then a big, soft hand on your shin. that’s sam. dean’s the one holding your hand.

you try to say hey back, but it comes out as a hoarse groan. your throat is very dry. so you just squeeze dean’s hand back as best as you can. one of his hands leaves yours to rest on your tired head. you look over and offer him a little smile. he feels a rush of affection as you meet his gaze like that, and a little bit of guilt for always letting you be the best of them. the quietest and the easiest. he doesn’t know what to do with those feelings, so he asks a sweet, almost teary looking sam to go grab you some water. he does so without a qualm, tries to help you take a sip, and relents with a subtle pout when you refuse the help. you’re insistent about holding that cup for yourself.

“let me help you,” he murmurs, voice all soft. he sounds extra young right now, as his hands try to hold the cup and your head up for you. you grab the cup, shaking your head despite being plagued by a pounding ache at your temples.

“mm-mm,” you hum a no, as if it bothers you that he’s trying to use his hand in a cast to help. you’re truly just that stubborn that it makes you strong enough to hold the cup with your own shaky hands. sam’s hand hovers nearby anyway. when you’ve taken a good drink, and the water starts to slosh a bit because you’re having a hard time holding it steady, dean takes it from you and sets it on the bedside table. 

“you gave us a good little scare there,” he murmurs, voice gentler than usual. he doesn’t even pretend to sound annoyed. sam thinks his demeanor is a bit funny now, considering how much of a mess dean was last night and before you woke. but he easily lets it slide for right now. without a doubt, you’re his main concern.

“sorry,” you mumble, still sort of smiling.

“don’t,” sam scolds softly. “don’t be sorry.” it seems to him like you’re always willing to take the fall, fix the problem, ease the tension. right now, he’d rather you just let him and dean take care of everything for you. you look like you want to protest, keep apologizing for making them worry, but he grabs your free hand as a means to stop you. dean gives your hand a little squeeze to punctuate the same sentiment. 

you have nothing to be sorry for. and they are very grateful for you. losing you scares them more than anything, and for a moment, they will both be a bit vulnerable and ask for you to do the same by holding your hands tight for just a little while.

“okay,” you murmur. you won’t be sorry. i love you, too, you’re saying.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The Safest Place

Sam and Dean & little sister!reader, John Winchester & daughter!reader

Synopsis: John has to tell you (4) about monsters, and you don’t take it well

Warnings: none, it’s short and sweet

“And that’s what me and Sammy and Dean do. And that’s why we move around all the time, and why you can’t go to work with me, and…” John swallowed. “Kiddo that’s why you don’t have a mom. Demons took her.”

Dean couldn’t watch. He didn’t even want to listen. He’d wanted to keep you from the truth for so much longer, but you were so much more nosy than Sam had been. You went through John’s journal and asked about all the monster pictures you saw in it, you asked John countless questions about the guns and the newspaper clippings and…and everything. But it was more than that—you were also clingy. Clingy to the point where you’d sneak out and try to follow either John or your brothers when they went out to hunt monsters. After a close call with a vampire where you snuck into the Impala then almost got yourself killed, John decided that enough was enough. You wouldn’t last long in this life unless you had a healthy fear of the supernatural. So that’s what John had to give you.

“What if demons take you?” Your quiet whimper finally had Dean looking up. You were shaking, blinking up at your dad as if waiting for him to say that it was all a joke and monsters weren’t real.

“The demons aren’t gonna take me,” John promised. “That’s why we hunt. So they can’t take anybody else.”

You didn’t respond, so John reached down and picked you up, laying you down on his bed and tucking you in.

“Get some sleep, kiddo.”

…

John fell asleep quickly, but Dean could hear you tossing and turning even as he struggled to settle down himself. He was always the last to fall asleep, and having to share a bed with Sam since there was no pullout couch wasn’t helping.

Because of his insomnia, Dean was the first to hear your feet padding on the motel carpet as you slipped off John’s bed and tiptoed your way over to Dean’s.

“De?” Dean could tell you were crying from just the one syllable. “De, I need help.”

Dean rolled over to see you standing at the edge of his bed, your arms stretched out for him. Dean pulled you up onto the bed without comment, and once his arms were around you you refused to let him go.

“I don’t want the demons to get me, De,” you sniffled.

“Hey—“ Dean tightened his arms around you. “—I’m not gonna let any demons get you, ok?”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Sam whispered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Demons are scary, Sammy,” you whimpered.

“Oh honey…” Sam disentangled you from Dean’s arms and cradled you in his lap.

“How do I fight demons?” You rubbed at your eyes.

“Hey, you don’t have to worry about that,” Dean said. “I don’t ever want you thinking about it. Me and Sammy and Dad are gonna get those demons, ok? Nobody’s ever gonna hurt you.”

“Yeah, and you wanna know what the safest place is?” Sam asked. You nodded firmly. “It’s right about…” Sam laid back down, and Dean followed his lead. “Here.” Sam positioned you in between himself and Dean, tucking you under the covers and keeping one arm over you. You latched onto his arm, your tiny hands wrapping around his fingers.

“Nobody can hurt you here,” Dean promised. “Me and Sammy and Dad won’t let them.”

You reached your hand out for Dean, and he responded by putting his arm over Sam’s, so you had both of your brother’s arms protecting you.

You were asleep in minutes.

Taglist:

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

[imbadatwrighting]

Dean: Do it, now. That’s an order.

Reader: Yeah, well, you don’t wanna start a battle of the wills with me because you will emerge from that battle a broken man. Not to brag, but I was name-checked in a demon’s suicide note.

Sam: Oh, my god.

[thursdaythen]

Day 6: New & Niche

What if we were two unknowable, female-presenting entities in the vast void haha.... unless?

[strawlessandbraless]

Cas watched Dean kiss one person who wasn’t him and was immediately all ‘I'm considering disobedience’ and ‘for the first time, I feel…’

[ellieslittleburrow]

Resuested by @outof-spite : was wondering if you could do a winchester bros & little sister! reader where theyve been arguing constantly lately, and reader is usually combative and always argues back but, this time shes just over the arguing so she just gives up trying to argue with them and kinda goes mute?

Warnings : family fights, yelling

Pairings : Sam/Dean Winchester x sister!reader

A/N : Sorry for the late postt ❤️❤️

-----

Things happen, right? Misunderstandings, judgement, reproaches and blame, all of them, the worst thing that could happen to a family, more importantly-right now-to yours.

Back from a hunt gone bad, you heavily lay in the backseat of the impala, your feet hung over the left window while your head rests over the opposite side of the car.

"Hey-get your feet off my damn leather." A complaint you've heard one too many times, and one you usually fight but- this time, as a sigh leaves your lips, you uncross your legs and bring them down, consequently lifting your upper body to sit up. An avertion from your side that's different from your usual habits, causing the car to fall into heavily loud silence.

And although it is loud with almost audible thoughts and anger, you still enjoy that while it lasts.

And it fucking doesn't last, in fact, just as soon as you entered the motel, another sentence commenced by Sam sent Dean into a fury, and just as things heated up, you found yourself in the middle of it all-again-

"Hey!!-" The shout is directed at you, this you know and choose to disguard. You would answer but- your body is fatigued and so is our mind, answering seems to lead to no vail. You answer, he fights you, you all go to sleep and wake up forcebly normalizing things, as if your throats aren't sore and your brains aren't fried.

"Hey-i'm talking to you-"

The words sound more bitter this time around, and you find yourself reluctantly lifting your gaze up . You look at Dean, slow and undetermined, exhausted.

"I asked you why you did that-You could've waited for us. I know you said there was no time le-" Dean pauses. "And fucking answer me when i talk to you-"

You shrug, causing a choking gasp out of Dean. His eyes widen and he leans forward. "Are you-Is she provok-are you-"

You throw your jacket over the bed, disdain discerned in your every move and you flop on the bed, unaware of the sudden tension that-again- suddenly settles in.

But the thing is--You don't care anymore. You haven't enough energy to get you to fight them once more, neither to explain or defend yourself. Too damn fucking tired is what you are at the moment-Too damn tired of it all.

"Kid?"

You rest your hand over your forehead, closing your eyes in an effort to soothe your aching muscles, and maybe suck in a little more patience.

"Kid."

Your stomach tightens and soon, you'll recess into a bawling mess, so you get off the bed and pick up your jacket.

Please don't lead to another fight, please..You just want it all to be ov-

"What's wrong?"

You shrug once more, shaking your head to motion that all is fine before heading for the door. But Sam comes your way, blocking the door and you blow a long sigh.

"Come here"

Sam grips both of your arms and swiftly-you find yourself glued to his chest. But all happens all too fast-why would he suddenly get all feely- and before you even realize it, you find yourself pushing against him.

"'im sorry-i'm sorry."

A lump builds up in your throat and as flashes of the past few weeks occupy every single space in your brain, your breathing increases-just as it gets harder to breathe. Just the thought of it all_

Your eyes are slowly flooded with warmth, announcing the tears gathering at your eyes. You need to leave. You need to go.

You choke on a sob.

You can't do this anym- "I know, honey. I've been there. I know." And with that, another sob loudly escapes your throat and a whimper follows.

"i've been there with Dad, i didn't realize we were doing that to you-i'm sorry. I see you. I really am sorry."

You shake your head as your cries fill the room, getting increasingly louder the harder Sam rubs your back. But that's not what you need. Not for them to see you-but for them to fucking stop.

"We'll stop. We'll talk. I promise."

You pull away from him, skeptical of a promise you doubt he can hold. And just as you're about to process that, Dean speaks.

"I'm sorry too." His honest tone makes you sigh. This isn't.what.i.want.

"Sam and i are sort've used to it- we lost sight of the fact that it wasn't affecting just us, but you as well. I really am sorry." Sam looks into your eyes and you slightly lean back, averting your gaze.

"It must've been really stresstful for you the past few weeks." Taken aback by his words, you pull your chin away from his hand and turn around, wiping at your tears before resting your hand against your forehead.

"we're sorry, kid."

You shrug, still mistrusftul. Mistrustful but hopeful. Because Sam and Dean are different, fights and bad things might accure but no matter how disconnected from each other they might be, they always come back to each other. And you are no different. You know them well enough.

Your silence is apprehended as anger. "Okay..We understand, we'll leave."

But it's not anger and it's most certainly not hatred. So you envelop Sam again and bury your face in his chest.

Maybe that'll be enough for him to understand?

His surprise manifests through his still figure. "Thank you, honey." That surprise quickly dissipates and he hugs you back. "It..."

"it's going to be okay, honey. We'll make it okay."

------

I hope it isn't too cringe or too cliché because like-who would say sorry in under a minute. But yeah anyway much love sorry byyiii 🍁🍁🍁❤️❤️❤️

[redbird-tf]

Wild dog

dean x little sister

synopsis; A vampire hunt goes horribly wrong, leaving you injured in more ways the one, by the person you'd least expect.

inspired by

Word count; 2.6k (officially my longest story, please dont let it flop)

Warning: hurt/comfort, injury, john, violence, language

No no no, this couldnt be happening. You all knew taking on a vampire nest was a dangerous mission, but this mistake should have never happened. Now, here you lay on the cold, hay-covered floor of an old barn. Pain pulses through your body, your mind teetering on the edge of consciousness, and Dean looming over you.

The barn was crawling with those nasty blood-sucking monsters—20, maybe more. You three had been tracking them for weeks and prepared well. Hiding in the bushes, you waited until the nest was deep in slumber before making your move. You had to move quietly. Killing as many in their sleep as possible until one awoke. Its shrill scream shattered the silence, jolting the rest of the nest awake. "Split!" Dean's voice rang out, and in an instant, you all scattered.

Dean skidded to a stop as he faced a dead end. His grip tightened around the machete, turning to face the vamps closing in. “come get it you sick son of a bitch” he growled. He swung in every direction, blood soaking his clothes. When Dean got like this he turned into a killing machine. No thoughts just, swing-hit-kill, swing-hit-kill. A vamp hurled down at him from the ceiling, yet without flinching Dean grabbed it by the throat slamming it against the wall behind him and slicing its head clean off. Only when the head rolled past his feet did he take a breath and allow his shoulder to slump.

The sound of fast footsteps made him whirl around, swinging his machete wildly, his fist connecting with the creature's face, sending it crashing to the ground. “Dean stop!” Sams horrified voice rang pulling Dean from his soilder like state. Deans eyes widened in shock and the machete slipped from his hand. “Oh my god” his voice broke. It was you. You who was running up on him. You who’s side he sliced into. It was you who lay in front of him now.

Dean collapsed to his knees, and his hands came up to cradle your face “Sweetheart, sweetheart can you hear me” he begged with desperation. You let out a painful groan, and Dean let out a heavy sigh of relief. Sam lifted your shirt, inspecting the cut that was pouring blood. His concerned gaze met Dean, “What?” Dean demanded, panic rising in his chest. “We can’t stitch this dean, we need to take her to the hospital now” Sam replied with quick urgency. He pushed Dean aside, scooping you into his arms. You let out another agonizing moan. “Sorry bug” Sam whispered. “And say what?” Dean frantically snapped while darting toward the car. “I don't know Dean, let's worry about that when our sisters insides aren’t visible!” Sam shouted in frustration.

————-

When they reached the hospital, Dean shouted for help, and within seconds doctors surrounded them, lifting your limp body from Sam's arms and onto a bed. Deans eyes never left you as you were wheeled away, only breaking when pushed past white doors. It was then the adrenaline wore off and guilt flooded his body. He stood frozen, Sam’s voice was mumbled trying to convince the nurse it had been a bear or something.

“Sir, sir, SIR” Dean's trance was broken by the nurse's voice. “Does your hand feel alright?” She asked kindly. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion, then looked down at his fist. His knuckles were bruised and the image of his fist connecting with your face made his lip quiver.

Dean and Sam sat in the silence of the waiting room. Dean's head hung low, his thumb rubbing over his bandaged hand. Sams head jerked up at the sound of heavy footsteps, “what the hell” he muttered. Deans eyes widened at the sight of John. They both quickly stood from their seat “Dad what are you-“Sam was cut off. “What the hell happened?” John asked sternly, gazing between the brothers. There was a tense pause before Dean spoke up “It was me… she ran up from behind me. i should have been more careful…” Dean spoke quietly, half to keep the nurses from hearing and half because he couldn’t raise his voice without the risk of breaking down. John sighed heavily “How many goddamn times have i told her not to do that-“John started “It's not her fault” Dean quickly rebutted. John opened his mouth but fell silent at the sight of a nurse approaching. “How is she?” John asked, his body tensed, bracing for the worst. “Shell be alright” the boys shoulders dropped. “Shell have to take it easy for a few months to prevent tearing stitches….” The nurse paused, hesitating to continue “Her injury was very severe, it's a miracle she's still alive” The room fell silent again. “Can we see her?” Sam asked in an urgent tone.

The three of them hurried to your room. Sam and John rushed to your bedside, except for Dean who stood frozen in the doorway, watching you slowly gain consciousness.” what happened?” You asked groggily. Sam spoke softly to you but the Anastasia still weighed heavy, making it hard to understand his words. A shiver ran through your body and your head cocked to the side catching a glimpse of Dean. Dean jumped out of sight, pressing his back against the wall. He swallowed sharply, his heart hammering in his chest. “De…” he heard you call. “Dean” again, and again. A moment later John stepped out, “she's cold. She wants a jacket” he stated firmly. Without a word, Dean shrugged off his jacket and pushed it into John's hand. “Go home. We’ll talk later” he ordered. “Yes sir,” Dean said lowly, his hand dragged down his face, then he turned his heel.

—————-

“What do you remember?” Sam asked, sitting at the edge of your bed. You thought for a moment, your mind capturing bits and pieces. A look of shock came over your face. “I was running to Dean and then…” Your breath hitched and your hand clutched your side “he didn't mean to” you whispered with turned-up brows. Sams brows furrowed in contrast “Of course he didn’t” he reassured you, placing his hand over yours. “Here you go kid” John stepped forward, passing Dean's jacket to you. “Where's Dean?” You asked. “Let's get going before the cops get here” John continued ignoring your question. “He didn't mean to Dad! It's my fault” you blurted out. Johns's gaze sharpened “you were reckless. and he acted like a goddamn wild dog. This is on both of you, i hope you've learned something. Now come on” he snapped coldly, turning his back.

——

The drive back to the motel in John's truck was silent with unbearable tension. When John pulled into the lot you noticed Dean's impala was nowhere in sight. “I'll check into another room. You two go to bed,” John said gruffly, pointing between you and Sam before walking off. Sam carried the bags into the room as you limped in behind him. “Where Dean?” You asked, turning to Sam with a confused look. “He’s probably just grabbing a drink” he explained, while unpacking his bag. “Can we call him, just to make sure” you nervously fidgeted with your fingers, “let's just give him some space right now,” Sam spoke quietly, giving you sympathetic eyes.

You had been tossing and turning for hours. Unable to sleep thanks to the pain meds wearing off. You stared at the ceiling until the glow of headlights flickered into the room. You listened closely to the squeak of brakes, followed by the jingles of keys. You quickly closed your eyes pretending to sleep. Footsteps crept their way into the room, then faded back out. You peeked around the room, seeing nothing changed. Slowly you sat up, cradling your side as you pushed yourself from the bed. Grabbing Dean's jacket from the nightstand, you tiptoed to the door making sure not to wake Sammy while you slipped out.

The wind bit at your cheeks. You quickly draped the jacket over your shoulders, pulling it tight. The Impala was parked in front of you, but no still dean in sight. Your eyes scanned the lot. It wasn't until you squinted your eyes that you spotted a figure in the distance, sitting on a bench, beneath a large oak tree. After a few minutes of limping, and grunting, you finally reached the bench. Dean swung around at the sound. “I got your jacket…” you said awkwardly. “Keep it,” he muttered after giving you a once over and taking a sip of his drink. You slowly took a seat next to him. The rustle of the tree blowing in the wind surrounding you two. “I shouldn’t have run up on you-“ you tried to reason “It's not your fault” Dean cut you off, his voice firm, eyes locked on the ground. “You've told me over and over again not to “ “so i should have known. I shouldn’t have looked before…” his voice strained.

Another silence settled. “I don't blame you Dean” you stated softly. “Well, i do.” He replied sharply, taking another swing of his drink. You watched him for a moment before shifting closer, resting your head on his shoulder. You could feel him relax beneath your touch. “You know when we were younger, I'd come home from school and Dad would be gone, but you'd be there.” You kept your voice steady. “Then Sam left, and i was sure you would to…but you never did. You've always been there for me Dean” you spoke softly. You saw his grip tighten around the bottle. “You know what hurt most of all” your voice barely a whisper. “when i called for you from the bed…and you didn't come” Your voice wavered before you could stop it and you bit down on your lip. Deans body stiffened. For the first time that night, he looked you in the eyes. His green eyes were a storm of emotions. “I'm sorry, kid” his voice painfully sincere. He lifted his hand to cradle the side of your face, his thumb smoothing over the bruise beneath your eye. “Dean i know you won't forgive yourself, but can you make me a promise” Your voice shook terribly, trying to keep your tears at bay. Dean nodded immediately. “promise you'll always come when i call you” you pleaded. Dean's face cringed realizing the pain he caused you, some worse than the physical. “I promise, baby” His voice was firm, unwavering. A gust of wind cut through the air causing you both to shiver violently. “We should go in now” Dean suggested to which you quickly nodded, earning a soft chuckle from him.

As You both stood up, a sharp pain radiated down your side, stopping you in your tracks. Dean turned to you in an instant, hearing you wince. “what's wrong?” He asked concerned. “My side” you breathed out, clutching at your ribs while bent over. Dean crouched down in front of you “How about i give you a ride” Dean recommended. You couldn’t help but smile as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, allowing him to slowly lift you off the ground. His warmth engulfed you. Your eyes grew heavy, sleep pulling you in as you rested against him. until his voice pulled you back. “You know I'll always protect you too. Even if that means from me sometimes” he said quietly, but his voice laced with a sense of seriousness. You pressed your face into his shoulder, letting yourself relax again before softly murmuring.

“Dean Winchester, my own wild dog”

[inlovewhithafairytale]

POV: Dating this emotionally unstable man and being his comfort. or Dating Dean winchester

[castiwls]

brother, brother - d.w

Paring; dean & sister!reader

Synopsis; John Winchester was never a great father but where he failed someone else stepped up

Warnings; none

Notes; this has been sitting in my drafts for ages omg

masterlist

You smiled at your brother as he appeared beside you, beers in hand. He passed one to you as he took a seat on the bonnet beside you. “Thanks.” You smiled before taking a sip. Your brother nodded before taking a sip of his own drink. 

“Remember how dad flipped the first time dad caught you drinking? Man, I think I saw fire in his eyes.” Your brother chuckled turning his head to take at you. “Oh yeah. I think that was the first time I ever faced his wrath.” You joked bumping shoulders with him. “I think I was too drunk to truly care to be completely honest.”

“You were a mess. I spent most of that night awake in case you were sick.” He shook his head. “Then you actually were sick.” He rolled his eyes. You grimaced slightly. “Please don’t remind me,” You took another sip. “Being sick on the floor in front of my younger brother was bad enough. I think I traumatised Sam that day.” 

Dean laughed. “Traumatised Sam!? It was me who had to clean it up, missy.” He exclaimed. “And I was very thankful you did.” You joked before looking out into the empty field. 

Your childhood was a touchy subject. Something which all three of you chose not to talk about unless necessary. Growing up you’d always known that your home life was less than normal, that your dad never acted in the way you saw dad’s on the TV act.

As you’d grown up you’d simply come to the conclusion that maybe John Winchester was never meant to be a dad, sure for the first two years of your life he’d played the part but even then you knew it wasn’t perfect. 

“You look like you're thinking quite hard there, you okay?” Dean bumped his shoulder with you drawing you back into the present. “I’m fine, just thinking…” You trailed off looking down at the drink in your hands. You felt your brother wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

You both fell back into a comfortable silence for a moment before you turned your head to face him “You were more of a father to me than he ever was,” You smiled at your brother “Just so you know.”

Dean pressed a kiss to your forehead before resting his head on top of yours.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: you know the episode 4.19 where Sam and Dean get a call from their supposed half brother and their rightfully suspicious and it ends up being a hunt for them? What about instead of Sam getting tied down and bled it’s their baby sister? She’s small and young and definitely shouldn’t be losing this much blood, she can’t even lift herself up after Sam and Dean manage to free her. Pls and thank you!

Request: I have a request on s4 e19 when Sam gets tortured by the ghouls. Can you reverse the roles with Winchester sister? No rush do whenever you want. Just remember to take breaks and drink water! Bye! :)

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Extreme Blood Loss

A/N: Please let me know if you like this because it helps motivate me to write more lol! Requests are open and if I haven’t gotten to yours yet feel free to request again because I have over 200 requests and I’m working on a bunch. You can request anything and everything I don’t care and I will never get annoyed!!

“Okay we’ve closed off every other way into the house.” You said to Adam, looking at the last tunnel in the house that wasn’t closed off. “If this thing is coming, it’s coming through here.” You finished at the same time as a door creaked through the house. Your attention immediately snapped towards the noise.

“You were saying?” Adam asked and you looked back towards him.

“Adam!” You heard from the other room and your heart sank.

“Adam!” It cried again, but before you could make your next move Adam was already calling back out.

“Mom?” Adam yelled, ready to run.

“No!” You tried to stop him, but he didn’t listen.

“Mom!” He yelled out and pushed past you.

“Adam!” You shouted after him, getting your gun ready. You ran down the steps after him trying to get him to stop.

“Mom?” You heard him sigh in relief.

“Adam no wait!” You cried out and rounded the corner to see Adam and the monster.

“It took me, but I got away.” It cried as Adam embraced her.

“Adam, step away from it.” You screamed with your gun pointed.

“Y/N, what the hell?” He shouted at you, confused.

“It’s not your mother!” You tried to reason with him.

“Adam, who—what is going on?” The monster cried.

“Get away from him!” You yelled at it starting to feel hopeless.

“What is going on?” It cried.

“You listen to me. It’s really her, okay?” Adam said, pushing it behind him.

“There was too much blood, your mother’s dead. There was too much blood in the vents!” You yelled trying to quickly explain before he snatched the gun out of your hand.

“Adam!” It cried.

“Shoot it!” You screamed, now terrified of the predicament you were both in.

“He’s crazy, it’s me!” It yelled in protest of the gun being pointed at it and immediately Adam pointed the gun back at you.

“Look—Adam!” You cried.

“It’s me!” It said.

“That’s not your mother!” You screamed trying to save the both of you and make him understand that his mother was not his mother and in fact the monster they were hunting. He flipped the gun back on the monster.

“Shoot it! It’s not human!” You yelled, trying to get through to him.

“I know.” He smirked, turning to face you. You had no time to be confused with what the hell was happening before he hit you with the butt of the gun and everything went black.

——-

You woke up to humming and noticed you were tied down to a table. You started struggling to get yourself out, but to no avail.

“Silver. No need none of the tests worked. You’re not shapeshifters. You’re ghouls.” You sneered, staring at Adam’s fake mom.

“You know, I find that term racist.” She replied with a knife in her hand.

“Huh.” You said with attitude, rolling your eyes. You tried to free yourself once more when she came to you sniffing you and biting your ear.

“Ew! Get away you weirdo freak!” You yelled. You had quite a bad problem with bad mouthing monsters and it always ended up biting you in the butt.

“Fresh meat. So much better than what we’re used to.” She grinned.

“Oh I should’ve known. It was the fresh kills that threw me. Ghouls don’t usually go after the living because you’re all just disgusting, filthy, nasty, trash pickers, taking form of the last corpse you choke down like a scavenger.” You sneered, again with the name calling. She was lucky you had to get to the point because you were just going to go on and on with all the negative words in the dictionary.

“And their thoughts, and their memories. Like Adam for instance.” Fake Adam said, walking into the room.

“Yeah well we are what we eat.” She chuckled.

“You’re pathetic monsters.” You said with disgust. Fake Adam sliced your one arm open and you let out a groan. His fake mom immediately went to licking the blood.

“That was for calling us pathetic.” Adam said.

“Yeah I’d call you a lot more than that. Do you have time?” You asked sarcastically, still struggling to get away.

“You know you use that word a lot, Y/N. Monsters.” Fake Adam said and brought the knife down on the table missing you by just an inch.

“But I don’t think you know what it means.” He finished as his fake mom continued to lick the blood pouring out of your arm.

“Her blood—it tastes different.” She said in confusion.

“Our father was a monster? Why? Because of what he ate? He never hurt anyone, Y/N. Living anyway.” Fake Adam smirked and grabbed the knife.

“No he was no monster. But the thing that killed him was. A monster named John Winchester.” Adam’s fake mom said trickling the knife up and down your body. Fake Adam stuck his fingers into the wound on your side and you cried out in pain.

“Thanks to your daddy, my brother and I, grew up on our own.” She explained as he twisted his finger deeper into your side and you let out a scream.

“At least we had each other.” She finished. He took his finger out of your wound and licked the blood off of it.

“Like you and your brothers— inseparable.” He said.

“Actually it was very hard to get you on your own. Your brothers are almost always keeping you out of harms way. Awww how protective.” She said sarcastically.

“So we figured instead of killing all of you, why not just kill you? They would suffer way more knowing that their wittle baby sister is dead.” He said in a fake sad voice.

“Go to hell.” You managed to get out.

“Like you said, Y/N, the only thing you can count on is family.” He said as she sucked more blood out of your arm.

“And for 20 years, we lived like rats. Graveyard after graveyard, all that stinking flesh. And then we thought hey why not move up to the fresher game?” She said.

“And we knew just where to start.” He smirked and started carving on your other arm. You cried out in pain and felt the world fading around you.

“Revenge— it’s never over, is it, Y/N?” He asked, still carving around your arm.

“First, it was John’s cop friend, and then his slut and then his son.” She said twirling her knife around.

“Then I called John, but the son of a bitch was already dead.” Adam sighed, disappointed.

“So I guess you will have to do instead.” She said, petting the side of your face.

“And they won’t interrupt us this time. We’re gonna feed on you nice and slow— like we did with Adam.” He said.

“Oh and by the way, he really was your brother. You should know that.” She grinned. You struggled against the ropes that tied you down, trying anything to escape.

“He was still alive when we took our first bites.” He smiled.

“And he was a screamer!” She said before she sliced your entire forearm. Fake Adam followed after her and sliced your arm again. You screamed in pain and thrashed. You could feel the blood pooling out of your body and you could hear it dripping into the bowls. The way it flowed like a waterfall made you feel absolutely sick. You knew you were going to bleed out and that you didn’t have much time left.

“Y/N, the more you struggle, the faster you’re going to bleed out. So you might as well lie back and relax.” Adam said as you whined and whimpered, trying to stay awake.

“Hey!” You heard Dean scream and a shot ring out.

“Dean, they’re ghouls-“ You tried screaming, but you were so weak it came out as a whisper. You knew Dean heard you though because another shot rung out.

“Which means headshot.” He said as Sam came stumbling into the room.

“Y/N!” He yelled before he was taken down by fake Adam and thrown through the glass doors. Dean immediately followed suit as you groaned and cried out. Your breaths were becoming rapid and shorter. You didn’t have enough energy to pick up your head to see the fight going down. It felt like forever before you saw blurry figure walk back into the room. Not knowing who it was, you tried to get your body to move. You felt like you had a fifty pound weight holding your body down.

“No!” You whimpered weakly, knowing you had no fight left in you.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, it’s Sam, sweetheart. I got you, you’re safe.” You heard Sam and felt him cup your cheeks to get your attention.

“S‘mmy.” You slurred.

“Yeah, hey bug, it’s me, I got you.” Sam said softly trying to comfort you, knowing that it was bad.

“Dean, she’s freezing cold.” Sam cried out trying to stay calm.

“Shit.” Dean said panicking. You felt the rope being cut off of your one wrist and you groaned out in pain.

“I know kid, I know. Hang in there for me okay?” Dean said, knowing that it was painful, but it had to be done. He started cutting the other one on your wrist while Sam started on your ankles. You felt your heart racing, your body sweating and your skin clammy. You could barely hang on to consciousness and your body felt weighed down by a million weights.

“Mmm scared.” You slurred looking into the blurriness of your brothers.

“You’re going to be okay sweetheart alright? You’re going to be fine. Just keep talking to us okay?” Sam asked, now full on panicking, but trying to keep you calm. You knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much blood and you weren’t sure if you were going to be okay. You let a few tears slide down your cheeks as you struggled to catch your breath.

“No, no, no. You’re going to be okay, alright? I won’t let anything happen to you.” Dean said noticing your tears. He quickly placed rags on your forearms and held them tight to stop the bleeding. You cried out in pain and tried to pull away when you felt him putting pressure on them.

“I know kid, I know. I’m sorry.” Dean said clenching his jaw. Sam made his next move by helping you sit up, but your body felt like jelly. You couldn’t lift yourself up as your head lobbed to the side of you. This feeling absolutely terrified you and left your body trembling in fear. The impending doom was taking over and it was paralyzing you. As your brothers scrambled around you trying to support your body, they urgently discussed their next steps in helping you when you interrupted.

“Mm I going to die?” You whispered weakly, blinking away the dots that clouded your vision. Scared that if you closed them, you wouldn’t open them again.

“HEY, HEY!” Dean yelled and tapped your face. Your eyes snapped wide open and your body trembled uncontrollably as you whimpered in fear.

“You’re not going to die. Do you hear me? Just keep those eyes open for me, alright?” Dean asked with fear in his own eyes, but when he looked into yours he was met with confusion.

“Wh-what?” You started. In an instant, you were confused. Where were you? What happened?

“De?” You called out for your eldest brother, the one who took care of you your entire life. The one who was always there for you when you called.

“Yeah I’m here baby, I’m here.” He said. Baby? He only called you that when something serious was happening. You finally took in your surroundings and saw yourself covered in blood as your brothers worked around you.

“What happened!” You cried out, completely confused and dazed.

“Relax sweetheart, you’re going to be okay, alright? You’re going to be okay.” You heard Sam say as he lifted your body off of the table. You grunted in pain, but your body only grew heavier.

“There’s too much blood!” Dean cried.

“I know, I know!” Sam yelled in frustration.

It felt like time was skipping because the next thing you knew, you were in the impala. You glanced to your right and noticed your dad.

“Dad?” You asked, fuzzily. Dean immediately looked towards Sam who glanced down towards you.

“She’s hallucinating Dean, she’s lost too much blood.” Sam said stealing a concerned glance towards his brother. Dean gripped the steering wheel tight and cursed silently, speeding faster.

“Dad, I missed you.” You cried, which caused Dean to completely break.

“Hey baby, no, dad’s not here, alright? Dad’s not here.” He said weakly, completely terrified of his sister’s state.

“Mmm t’red.” You said weakly, the heaviness and the blood loss making their last round on you.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, sweetheart, you’ve gotta stay awake.” Sam said urgently, but you didn’t listen and closed your eyes in exhaustion.

“Keep your eyes open please!” Sam cried out and tapped your face. It had no effect on you as you slipped into unconsciousness.

———

You jumped awake to a beeping noise in a complete panic. You were in a daze and physically couldn’t lift yourself up which made you panic more.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.” You heard Dean say, but the beeping noise only got faster. You were in total confusion and couldn’t make out where you were.

“Relax for me kid, you’re alright.” You heard Dean again and this time felt a hand placed on you. You groggily looked around and saw that you were in a hospital room. You immediately went into an intense shiver unsure if it was from how cold you were or if it was from the nerves that just overcame you. Dean cupped the side of your face, no doubt feeling your body tremor.

“You’re okay.” He said softly, giving you a reassuring nod.

“So cold.” You made out and he sent you a sad look.

“Alright, let me go find a nurse and get you some more blankets.” He replied hesitantly unsure if he wanted to leave you alone when Sam walked into the room with coffee. Sam’s immediate sigh of relief when he saw you awake and his glance towards Dean made you realize how serious whatever happened to you was. Dean left the room and Sam walked towards you.

“Hey sweetheart.” He said softly, sitting in front of you.

“Sammy.” You smiled weakly and tried to reach out to him. He immediately got the hint and took your hands into his.

“I’m here.” He said gently and rubbed his fingers on your hand.

“I’m so weak.” You mumbled, trying to understand why your body felt so heavy.

“What happened?” You whispered, not remembering anything that took place. Sam’s face fell and his eyes filled with sorrow.

“The ghouls had you bleeding out and when we got to you it was almost too late. You were so pale and you were ice cold. You were so cold bug, it terrified me.” Sam said, looking away and trying to collect himself.

“There was blood everywhere, we weren’t even sure how you were alive at that point. Then you started hallucinating and went unconscious. We thought we lost you, God we were so scared.” He said, shedding a tear and quickly wiping it before it could drop.

“We rushed you to the hospital, not knowing if you were even alive and waited around for hours not hearing anything. Then the doctor came out and told us you were stabilized, but lost 35% of your blood. He said you should’ve died and that it was nothing less of a miracle.” He said as his voice cracked.

“You were in a coma for two weeks.” He explained quietly, knowing this was going to freak you out.

“I’ve been out for two weeks?!” You asked, hysterically.

“They said it could’ve been up to a couple months, we just weren’t sure when you’d wake up.” He said as you just stared blankly at him.

“We were so terrified to lose you. Dean even prayed a few times.” He finished. You both knew that Dean never prayed and he never believed that there was a God out there so the fact that it got to the point where Dean was praying, made you extremely emotional. The tears started streaming down your face.

“I’m so sorry Sammy, I should’ve known it was a trap.” You cried, feeling terrible and guilty that your brothers had to be put through something so traumatic because of your own mistake.

“Sweetheart, no, it’s not your fault. Me and Dean should’ve never left you alone with Adam. We weren’t thinking and it almost cost you your life.” Sam said, staring into your eyes and wiping your tears. Before you could say something back, the door opened. Dean, a few nurses and a doctor walked in. They checked your vitals and explained that you were going to be very weak for about a month. You had iron deficiency anemia due to the blood loss and it would take a long time for you to start feeling normal again. They left the room and Dean put the extra blankets that they brought in on top of you. The weight and coziness of the blankets made you immediately feel tired. Your brothers took notice and Dean kissed the side of your head.

“Get some rest kid, we’ll be here.” Dean reassured.

“Thank you for saving me.” You smiled softly looking between your brothers.

“Always.” Dean said as Sam grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Y/N: *holding a python* Guys, I impulsively bought a snake, what should I name him?

Sam: I’m sorry, YOU DID WHAT–

Dean: *who’s waited his whole life for this moment* William Snakepeare

[sammyluvr]

broken, fine for tonight — sam & dean winchester

cw : gn!winchester!reader, hurt/comfort, some angst, reader's the youngest sibling, injury/pain, nicknames (kid, bud, sweetheart), 1.3K words. requested !

summary : you break your ankle but your older brother's are convinced it's just a sprain and leave to finish up a hunt.

dean sounds all gruff and almost annoyed when he says you’ll have to stay in the motel while they take down this nest of vamps. “you’ll be no help with a jacked up ankle,” he grumbles, because it’d be easier with three than two. but his eyes are a little soft as they flick down to your injury and you know it’s just because he’s no good at dealing with being worried about you.

sam comes back from the bathroom, giving you a sympathetic smile as he sets another pair of pain pills on the bedside table next to your half empty plastic water bottle. “you’re good to take these in half an hour,” he says, “and we’ll grab you a proper brace on the way back, alright?”

you give him a tight smile, your breathing measured so it doesn’t come across as labored. “sure,” you agree, still fighting against the pain in your foot in order to appear as composed as you’re expected to be. when you twisted it earlier today, sam and dean brushed it off as a sprain and haven’t stopped to think otherwise since then. 

dean had hauled you back up with strong hands and a comforting pat to your back. you’re alright, he insisted, ‘s just a little sprain, you’ve dealt with worse. he wasn’t trying to be dismissive, but you’ve felt a sprain before, and you’re sure that this is worse.

it must be a pretty bad sprain, sam said with a soft frown when you let out a pained gasp after trying to put just the slightest bit of pressure on it. he looped your other arm around his shoulders, and the two of them practically carried you back to the motel room. they set you down on the bed, and you know that sam normally would’ve checked your ankle with a bit more precision and care most days, but you’re all pretty sure that the vamps have caught on to you, which means the faster they get into the nest, the better. so he simply propped your foot up on all the spare pillows in the room with gentle hands, cringing each time the movement made you wince in pain. he wrapped it in an ace bandage, and you nearly cried out loud as he did. mind otherwise occupied, he’d just told you the pain would fade soon enough.

you think that somewhere in the back of their minds, both of your brothers know that you’re in enough pain to understand that this is worse than they want it to be. their concern is easy to read, but sometimes they hate the prospect of you being hurt so much that they’ll focus that energy onto a different problem until they have to face this one. so they’re out the door before you know it. 

hopefully they’ll give you a longer look when they get back. you’d very much like to go to the hospital to get checked out and hopefully return to the motel with a cast and pair of crutches.

the pain only gets worse and the minutes just drag. time flows so slowly that you start to worry, just like you do every time they’re off on a hunt without you. if they’ve been gone this long, something must’ve gone wrong, right? you check the time and realize it’s been less than a full hour. the ibuprofen you took a bit ago does nothing to help. 

your ankle hurts so badly that you’re teary and sniffly and even though no one’s here to witness it, you’re embarrassed by it nonetheless. but you might as well get the tears out of the way before they come back.

you’re convinced that it’s broken, and by the time the headlights of the impala shine through the half-closed blinds of the motel, you’re in too much of a haze to notice the door unlocking and the boys tramping into the room.

sam’s through the door first, and the second he lays eyes on you, he knows something’s not quite right. he says your name, soft of course, but still loud enough for you to hear. you don’t look over, and he drops his bag on the floor to rush over. dean immediately picks up on the tone of sam’s voice, following close behind.

sam’s big hand on your forehead rouses you. “hey. you with us sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice quiet and clearly concerned. your eyes flutter open and the only thing you can think to do when you register the worry on his face is give him a rueful smile.

“i think it’s broken,” you mumble, voice quiet and tired. you’re somehow numb and still hurting so much at the same time. dean gives a little scoff, more so out of affection than frustration, and rounds the bed to look at your ankle. you wince when he moves it, this time not bothering to hide just how much it really hurts.

“you think?” dean repeats back to you, “jesus, kid, why didn’t you say something before?”

“you didn’t give me a chance,” you retort, frowning deeply but too tired to actually sound upset. “you both said it was sprained.” before dean can make some comment about how it’s your ankle, not theirs so how would they know, sam intervenes.

“we’re sorry, bud,” he murmurs, “we should’ve paid you more attention.” you don’t see the pointed look he gives dean not to argue with you right now, or the way dean puts his hands up in frustration, then softens when he looks back at you. he knows that sam’s right, it’s not fair to get all snarky with you. he’s just fueled by worry and he forgets that his worry very easily turns to anger and irritability. dean’s not upset with you at all, but he is at himself for not noticing just how badly you were injured.

the way that he gently carries you to the back seat of the impala is his apology, plus the promise to find your favorite food after you get checked out from the hospital. sam sits in the back with you to keep you steady. steady and held. his hand holds your head softly, his other keeping your leg still as the car rumbles down along the road.

tonight, everything will be fine. your ankle will heal and once properly treated, it’s true that the pain will fade. sure, they won’t pay the medical bills with real credit cards and the doctor might be impressed or concerned, or both, by your pain tolerance. because this certainly isn’t the first time you’ve been cooped up in the back seat of the impala, hurting and maybe even a little scared while sam holds you and dean drives.

he always steals glances back at you through the rearview mirror, making eye contact with sam to be sure you’re awake and well. but he has to be the one driving because he feels like that’s the only thing he has control of when you’re like this. he just absolutely horrified by the thought that there might be a dark night on empty roads after a hunt or a nearly world-ending event where his can’t drive fast enough. what if, someday, you die in his car and your blood stains the leather, because how could he wipe your blood from the seats like that?

and sam’s the one who’ll be holding you, staunching your blood with his jacket, whispering assurances that you’ll be alright. he’s terrified by the thought that there might be a night where, in the backseat of this car, the place you all silently call home, you’ll die in his arms.

those are the sorts of things they think about. they know that you think about your own nightmares of them dying too. but in this life, the only thing you can do is tuck those thoughts away, somewhere deep and hidden, because tonight, everything will be fine.