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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 days

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God, it's true and I think the problem with the "I'm not just a mom" line is that it seems like she's not even trying to be a “mom.”

I think Mary could have been a character with potential and interesting without having to leave out Sam and Dean. And I need to complain about a lot of things about Mary now that I'm re-watching season 12:

12x12: Mary is working with the British Men of Letters even though THEY KIDNAPPED HER SON but the worst of all was that she lied to her children to get them to help her and when she stole from the demon (also without telling Sam and Dean) and Ramiel told them that they had 30 seconds to return what they had taken, she did nothing, she was willing to risk the lives of her children and Cas (who was already dying) to give the Colt to some people she works with just a few months ago

Also when Dean and Sam are arrested for the president and Mary was upset with Cas for abandoning them 💀

Girl, at least Cas was there, where were you? and she still asks why her kids didn't call her 😤

and I have another one, the chapter where they are trapped in a house with a demon, Dean himself tells Mary, quite rightly, that she traveled hours for the funeral of someone she hasn't seen in years but she sends her own children one text message a week, SOMETIMES

In that same chapter Mary has no problem killing Jody even though she probably has the notion that she is someone important to Dean and Sam.

Anyway, I'll stick with the scene where the boys travel to the past and Sam meets his mother and just sits down and tells her that she's beautiful.

I like what you pointed out at the end because that’s been in the back of my mind for a bit; Young Mary is not the same character as old Mary, not even a little. The writers changed her character so much, young Mary (1) didn’t want to hunt and (2) cared so much about her boys. Old Mary seemed to want to hunt so that she could ignore the problem that she thought Sam and Dean were.

Honestly, it’s like when she found out they were adults now she just didn’t want anything to do with them. Like she took one look at them and thought “well I missed all the interesting parts so why bother trying to know them now.”

And I get that she would want to grieve the life that she missed; raising her two sons with John. I just don’t see that as an excuse for cutting out the boys who are very much alive, even if they don’t need raising anymore.

And it definitely doesn’t excuse her using and betraying them. If someone she had really, truly cared about been tortured by the MoL, she wouldn’t have worked with them. But it was just a stranger. Just a guy that happened to be her son, but who wasn’t the baby she wanted.

#the winchesters #dean and sam #mary winchester #another rant #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister

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jasmines-library · 7 months

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Just One Big Headache

WHUMPTOBER 2023: Day one, prompt "How many fingers am I holding up?" FANDOM: Supernatural Summary: A routine salt 'n' burn takes a nasty turn when the spirit directs its anger towards you, leaving you with a nasty concussion, but not to worry, the Winchesters are there to look after you. Warnings: Head injury, concussion, loss of consciousness, violence, weapons, broken ribs. Word count: 1.8k Author Note: Aaaaaand its off! Welcome to jedi-archives whumptober 2023! I promise i'm going to try my best to get these out everyday but i can't make any promises. My prompts are coming from a mixture of the official @whumptober prompts and my own. I'm starting off with something slightly fluffy to ease us in. With that said, happy whumping!

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

'it's just a salt 'n' burn' they said. 'it'll be fun' they said. Oh boy were they wrong.

The air was crisp as you stepped out of the Impala. You watched as the little clouds of air rose before your face, illuminated by the street lamps which flickered haphazardly. Tugging your jacket closer to your body you made your way around to the back of the car, following the crunch of Sam’s shoes as he walked across the frosted grass. Dean propped open the trunk and made quick work of loading rock salt into his rifle and ensuring that there were enough matches inside his pack. The other Winchester hauled the shovel from the car and leaned it against his shoulder; it was hefty and made with iron, caked in mud and rust. The pistol that you shifted between your hands was so familiar, like an extension of your body. It fit snugly in your grip. Flicking the chamber open with a metallic click, you made sure it was fully loaded before snapping off the safety and slipping it in a holster on your belt.

The grass was damp from the frost that had settled on the grass in the graveyard. It had managed to claw its way up the gravestones and trees like fingers too. It seeped uncomfortably through the toes of your boots as you trudged towards the grave. Small and unkept, it sat located towards the west side of the gravesite. It belonged to a young woman who was brutally murdered a few years ago, but who’s case ran cold. It was safe to say that she was pissed; her revenge taking the form of hunting down those who were associated with the woman who killed her. But what started out as unfinished business soon turned cold and twisted as she turned to others who had wronged. Her grave stood out on the line of tall, pearly stones with dainty flowers laying at their feet. It was dark and clad with weeds. Unloved.

Dean’s duffel landed with a thud next to the grave, unsettling the ground around it. The shovel went down next to it.

“Alrighty.” He said, rubbing his hands together. “You know the drill.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but brought out his hands in front of him anyway. “Seriously dude, I don’t even know why we bother anymore.”

“It’s a game of chance, Sammy. Now shoot.”

After the count of three, you and Sam shaped your hands into a fist and brought them forwards. You smirked. Dean had played scissors. With a groan, he pulled his hand back and reeled his body away.

You laughed. “Scissors everytime, Dean.”

The eldest Winchester grumbled something underneath his breath, but picked up the shovel and begrudgingly began to dig until the shovel hit something solid, you and Sam kept your eyes peeled for any sign of the spirit.

“Okay. This is it.” he confirmed, hauling up the lid of the coffin. It creaked open on unsteady hinges. The corpse beneath still had skin attached to its discoloured bones. It pooled loosely around the woman's frame. The putrid smell that emerged would have made you gag had you not already had your fair share of salt ‘n’ burns. “Keep an eye out for that son of a bitch.”

Sam lent a hand to haul his brother out of the newly dug pit. From where you were standing, a few feet away, you could see the top of his hair poking out from the top of the opening. Almost mechanically, the brothers began to tip the gasolene and sprinkle the salt onto the body.

The deathly howl that suddenly emerged in front of you snapped you awake. The spirit raced towards the Winchesters, gritting her teeth and scowling. Her vacant eyes narrowed at them as she got closer, but your fingers were on the trigger before you could blink, sending her away with a shrill cry and a cloud of grey.

“Hurry.” You told your friends, who had moved from preparing the body to the old duffel on the ground. Dean rummaged around desperately on his knees, not caring about the cold, until he felt the familiar grit of the matchbox against his fingers. Tugging it out, he ran back to the body. Sam tugged the shotgun tighter to him and positioned it in front of himself. The two of you danced around, keeping your eyes peeled for the ghost.

The spirit appeared behind you this time, wailing like a banshee. Sam shot it in the chest before it howled shrilly and disappeared.

“Dean! Hurry up!” You cried as it reappered again. He was busy fumbling with the matches, which refused to light on the cold box. He pushed too hard against the cardboard and felt the stick snap and splinter. He cursed loudly.

“I’m trying!” He huffed back through gritted teeth.

All it took was that one look over your shoulder to Dean for the spirit to catch you off guard. Sam’s shout of your name was a second too late as a ghost appeared behind you, wrapping its cold, bony fingers around you and flinging you away. You cried out in pain as your head collided with one of the neighbouring gravestones and your body slid to the floor.

“Dean!” Sam yelled out for his brother, firing his weapon at the creature and sending it dissipating to somewhere else on the property.

The match slipped between Dean’s fingers, twisting in his grip as he tried to create friction between the two objects. Time seemed to stop as Sam raced towards your side to be cut off by the woman re-emerging in his path. That was when the match tumbled from his brother’s grasp, landing on the heap of chemicals and starting the chain reaction of events.

The woman reeled back as she burst into flames like a candle. The sound she made was dreadful, it cut right through you as she writhed on her feet. When she finally finished her onslaught of screaming and her bones were no more than a dismal pile of ash, Sam fell to his knees in front of you, cupping your head in his hands. It lolled to the side, unable to hold itself up against the throbbing pain in your skull. Sam was suddenly aware of the blood that trickled from your temple and coaxed his fingers, crying out again for his brother, he gave your face a gentle tap. Your eyes fluttered beneath heavy lids.

“Hey, Hey. Kid. Stay with me.” He pleaded, searching your face. “Open your eyes Y/N, come on.”

Your eyelids felt like they were made of lead. Your head felt hazy as you peeled them open, watching Sam swim before you.

“That's it! Keep them open Y/N.”

Dean was to your left, his hands roaming your body for any other injuries. You whimpered when his fingers flushed against your tender skin on your upper back. You were sure you had a broken rib. Or three.

“I know. I know sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Sam’s face was close to yours as he tilted it upwards. He saw the way that your pupils were dilated; one the size of the fucking moon, the other lagging behind.

“Shit. Dean?”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Dean prompted, “Can you stand?”

He moved to position himself under your arm, wrapping it around his neck. Sam’s arm weaved around your waist and the two of them hauled you to your feet. The movement made you want to hurl and you cried out as the pressure in your head and ribs increased tenfold.

“You’re okay, sweetheart, You’re okay.”

Your movements were sluggish as you floated towards the car. your vision doubled and you were now struggling to differentiate left and right. Your legs trembled in your fogginess, you seemed to lose all control of your limbs, relying heavily on the arms wrapped around you to aid you back to the Impala. It was when your vision blurred and your legs completely folded beneath you like a crushed can that Sam scooped you up into his arms. He cringed at your noise of discomfort, but raced behind his brother to the old car which was parallel parked across the street.

“We’re nearly there kiddo,” He hushed. “Just keep those pretty eyes open for me, okay?”

You tried to keep them open. You really did, but it just became too much. Your body became slack in Sam’s arms as you gave into unconsciousness.

The light was too bright when you peeled your eyes open again. You were back in the bunker, propped up on pillows in your bed. Your whine alerted Dean to your awareness. His hand, which was clutching yours, moved to wave in front of your eyes.

“Y/N? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Sam rolled his eyes, swatting his hands away. He saw the way you squinted painfully against the light and moved to the switch on the other side of the room to dim it, before promptly coming to perch on the edge of your bed. . Satisfied, you hummed and scanned the room, eyes landing on the two worried Winchesters who loitered in your room. They breathed a visible sign of relief when they saw your eyes focus on theirs. Your ribs still stung, and the throbbing in your head was still present. You reached up and trailed your fingers across your temple. The skin had been cleaned there, the dried blood no longer glued to your face. You could still feel it in your hair where Sam hadn’t quite managed to get it all out. The skin was rough and had begun to scab over. A pair of hands wrapped around your wrist and pulled your fingers away.

“Don’t touch.” Sam said tenderly, handing you a glass and a handful of painkillers. The glass was cool against your lips as you swallowed them thickly. “It should heal on its own. It didn’t need stitches.”

You blinked groggily. “What happened?”

“Ghost got you good.” Dean told you. “You have two broken ribs and a concussion.”

“And the ghost?” you asked.

“Taken care of.”

Nodding slowly, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

“I-” Dean stuttered. “You had us worried Y/N”

“I'm sorry.”

Sam shook his head firmly. “Not your fault.”

“But-”

“Nope. Not hearing it.” He said sternly.

You sighed. “So, what's the damage, Dr Winchester?”

The youngest brother chuckled at the remark, glad to see that you were feeling more of yourself. “You are going to stay in bed and rest for a few days. We are going to stay here and look after you.” he told you before you rolled your eyes at the idea of being bed bound.

“I suppose I could do that.” You shrugged, not opposed to the idea of having the Winchesters as your personal waiters for the next few days.

“I thought you’d be happy.” Dean shook his head, then gestured to the covers and the tv which was mounted on the wall. “Room for two more?”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

DAY TWO

🏷️ Whumptober Taglist

#whumptober2023 #no.1 #how many fingers am i holding up?#concussion #brokenribs #unconscious #hurt/comfort #whumo #supernatural #supernatural x reader #winchester #winchesters x reader #fanfiction #writing #angst #supernatural fanfiction

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lovelywriting666 · 2 months

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Strawberry Cream Cheese

Pairing(s): Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, lil cameo of Claire Novak x reader (platonic)

synopsis: A day in the bunker with the boys

a/n: Girly reader, younger but like teenager age, takes place in no specific season, but like they all have up to date phones and stuff like that. Also this is a WIP and not proof read at all lolz <3

warnings: None

Hope you enjoy! :D

You were laying in bed listening to music, like classic lady gaga, Government Hooker, Americano, and Judas, while scrolling on your phone when you hear a knock on your door.

"Yeah?" You ask which is an invitation for the person on the other side of the door, presumably your brother, to open it. To no one's shock or surprise it's Dean.

"Hey kid, Sam's making breakfast do you want any?" He asks, his voice still laced with sleep, he probably just woke up.

You fell into the habit of getting up when Sam did so you could get ready for school, Sam was your personal alarm clock on school days and Dean was your personal chauffeur because Dean never trusted those school buses. But that's beside the point, you were used to waking up at the crack of dawn so you've been up for a while.

"Yeah, uh, just a begal and strawberry cream cheese" You respond as you pull yourself out of bed and stretch a bit.

Dean nods, "Alright kid, also change that music put on some good shit not this-" you cut Dean off with "Whatever old man" and Dean lets out and airy laugh and closes the door probably heading back to the kitchen where Sam was.

...

Once you put on something for the day you pause your music. Slide your phone into one of your pockets and head out into the hallway and to the kitchen. Sam was over the stove probably cooking eggs for himself and Dean, the toaster on and Dean with his head in the fridge.

You walk over to the kitchen table and sit down, you leg your legs across the bench and pull out your phone and you get a text from Claire.

Claire : Morning, going on a hunt, just wanted to let you know

You : Good Morning, have fun on the hunt!

Claire : Will do nerd

You : Knuckle Head

A plate clatters onto the table and you put your phone away and its your toasted bagel that Sam places in front of you and Dean sits across from you putting two plates down, one in front of him and one next to him. You gran the strawberry cream cheese container and open to find no cream cheese and you frown.

"What's wrong Bami?" Sam says kinda jokingly, it's the nickname Crowley gave you when you first met him with the brothers, it wasn't your proudest moment because you tripped in front of him, hence the nickname.

"We're out of Strawberry cream cheese" You say with a small huff and take a bite of your dry but good bagel.

"Damn, I think that calls for a food restock" Sam says, Dean and I agree.

Sam gets up from the table and grabs a notepad and pen from the junk drawer and walks back over to the table and sits down. He tosses me the notepad and pen, I scribble down food we need and other stuff while I eat. Once I think it's good I click the pen closed and Dean grabs the notepad off of the table and I continue eating.

"Nope, not buying *snack food* for you again" Dean said looking at the list.

"That was one time Dean! Plus you put it in the back of the cabinets, me and object permanence don't mix!" You sam with a huff and cross your arms.

"Fine, we'll get it but actually eat it this time" Dean says handing the list to Sam, you smirk getting up from the table and put your dishes in the sink. You hear Sam write down some things.

"Alright we'll let Dean finish eating breakfast, I'll wash the dishes and then we can head out" Sam say with a smile, I nod and head to the 'Dean Cave' because it has a bigger tv then in my room.

...

After a while you get a text from Sam.

Sam : Come on kid, we're heading out

You get up from the small love seat you were relaxing on and head to the main area. Sam and Dean were at the 'mission' table.

Sam was on his laptop and Dean was scrolling on his phone. Sam notices you first and shuts his laptop which makes Dean look up from his phone. Sam gets up from the table, Dean puts his phone in his pocket and pulls his keys out of his other pocket and jingle's them.

"Are lets get goin you two" Dean says with a smirk. You and Sam nod and follow Dean out to the garage and all pile into the Impala. You in the backseat, Sam and Dean in the front.

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beanzfandoms · 8 months

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since you write for spn, what about something where the reader is Sam and Dean's little sister and yk when in season 2 they go to the Roadhouse- well, maybe She meets Ash and she gets a crush on him and when they go to the Roadhouse She always stay with him? And maybe they also notice that she has Ash's ring (yeah in my mind he wears a ring with the scrabble's A) and they're like, teasing her, expecially Dean, saying things like 'oh, why don't you come ti the Roadhouse with us? We're pretty sure there's someone waiting for you' and it's just fluff with Ash? Thank you so much, even if you don't write it :3

"Your Frog Prince is Waiting~"

A/n: Thank you so much for the request; it's my very first one! I hope you enjoy! I'm not used to writing Ash, so I apologize if he seems a bit out of character; I tried my best.

Dean x Sister! reader x Sam, Ash x reader

Warnings: Cursing, potential cringe pet names, teenage crush

Description: As the Winchesters spend more time at the Roadhouse, the youngest gains a little crush on one of the residents. 😊

Latin Translation: mnemosynum (Keepsake)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The inside of the saloon was quiet as Dean shuts the creaking front door. All of the lights were off besides a sparking LED light hanging behind the bar. The place was grim, the sun casting through the ragged curtains seeming to be the only bright thing in the place.

(Y/n) stays close to her brothers as they venture deeper inside, only to bump into Sam as he stops suddenly. Her older brother barely spares her a glance, his attention caught on the boy laying across a pool table a few feet away.

"Oh god... is he dead?" She murmurs, eying him with slight trepidation. Sam shrugs in response.

"Hey, Buddy?" Sam calls out, taking a step forward. No response. "I'm guessing that isn't Ellen."

"You think?" (Y/n) snaps, observing the backside of the stranger. Sam snorts in response, before heading towards the back. "Sammy? Sammy, where are you going?"

"Stick beside me, squirt." Dean's voice says lowly, "We don't really know what's going on here."

(Y/n) turns to him to make a sarcastic response, but pales as she sees a woman press a gun to his back. "Dean..."

"Oh god, please let that be a rifle..."

"No, I'm just real happy to see you," the woman responds, cocking the gun.

(Y/n) took a step forward, only for the woman to dig the head of the gun deeper into Dean's back. "Don't move, or I'll shoot his spine out."

"Don't move -- copy that," (Y/n) repeats, making eye contact with her brother with a dry swallow.

"You should know something, miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back, 'cause it makes it real easy to do..." Dean rambles before turning around swiftly and stealing the rifle away from the woman's grip.

Before Dean can stand his ground fully, the woman throws a full punch at his face, causing him to stagger as she pulls the gun back to her.

"Sammy-" (Y/n) calls in alarm.

"Sorry..." Sam states as he comes back out with his hands over his head, "Can't help right now, I'm a little tied up."

The older woman who has Sam hostage eyes the two men for a moment before glancing at the young girl standing with a distressed look on her face. "Winchesters?"

"Yeah," both (Y/n)'s brothers say in unison.

"Son of a bitch," she laughs, putting her revolver in her back pocket. "Hey, I'm Ellen. That's my daughter, Jo."

---

"He didn't send you..." Ellen pauses, a look of sadness washing over her expression. Neither (Y/n) or her brothers responded as each of them look away from her. The pain of losing their father is still fresh in their heart. "He's alright, isn't he?"

No," Sam finally states with a sigh, "he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It, um... it just got him before he got it, I guess."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. We're all right," Dean says.

"Really, I know how close you and your Dad-"

"Really, Lady, I'm fine," Dean interjects with a stern look. (Y/n) gently places her hand on his thigh before looking at Ellen with the shake of her head.

"So, look, if you can help..." Sam announces, trying to change the subject, "We could use all the help we can get."

"Well, We can't," Ellen replies, "but Ash will."

"Who's Ash?" (Y/n) questions.

Ellen snorts before yelling out the name. As a response, the guy from before swiftly gets up with a groan. Balls fly from the table as he looks around to where his name was being called, his long hair flipping back and forth erratically.

"What?" Ash's voice booms, looking over at the group huddled by the bar, "closing time?"

---

"You got to be kidding me. This guy's no genius," Dean grumbles, "He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd Roadie!"

"Dean, give him a chance." (Y/n) grumbles out, kicking him slightly in the leg. Ash cheekily smiles and Dean rolls his eyes.

"Alright. Well, this stuff's about a year's worth of out dad's work," Dean shares as he sits down, "Let's see what you make of it."

Ash looks over the papers that Dean slid over, and scowls. "Come on, this crap ain't real. Ain't nobody can track a demon like this."

"How do you know?" (Y/n) questions, "Our dad was really good at it."

"Well, sweet cheeks. These are nonparametric statistical overviews, cross-spectrum correlations. I mean... damn. They're signs, omens. If you can track them, you can track this demon- You know, like crop failures, electrical storms. You ever been struck by lightning?" (Y/n) shakes her head in response as he looks at her, "It ain't fun."

"Can you track it or not?" Sam asks, giving Ash the stink eye.

"Yeah, with this, I think so."

"Really? How long?" (Y/n) questions with the quirk of her brow.

"It's gonna take time. Give me, 51 hours."

"You can really track down a demon in the span of over two days? I gotta say, that's impressive."

"Oh, you'll be impressed." Ash says with a smirk, "It'll be just like fine wine."

(Y/n) didn't say anything as her face flushes.

---

"That kid's hair was something else," Dean chuckles out as they go back to Bobby's car. "Looked more like a rat's nest to me."

"I don't know, I kinda liked it," (Y/n) responds with a small smile.

"Liked it?" Dean speaks, whipping his head around, "You mean to tell me you'd get your hair cut that way too?"

"No! What I meant is, it suited him. Not everyone could pull it off," (Y/n) speaks, climbing into the back of the van.

"Yeah, if you call that a suited haircut..."

"Do you really think he'll be able to track Dad's demon in 51 hours?" Sam asks, looking out the passenger side window.

"Psh, my bet is no. Dad spent his entire hunting career looking for that thing. There is no way a kid who sleeps on a pool table can top that!"

"I say he will," (Y/n) replies matter-of-factly.

"What makes you say that?"

"I just got a good feeling about him, is all."

---

"Did you find the demon?" Sam's breath tickles the back of (Y/n)'s head as he leans over her. Ash sets his computer down, casually placing his arm beside hers as he types away.

"It's nowhere around, at least nowhere I can find. If this fugly bastard raises its head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like divine on dog dookie."

"You can really be alerted right away?" (Y/n) asks with awe.

"Any of those signs or omens appear anywhere in the world, my rig will go off like a fire alarm."

"That's amazing..."

"Where did you learn to do all this?" Sam gasps in amazement.

"M.I.T., before I got bounced for fighting." Ash explains with a somewhat embarrassed look on his face.

"What was the fighting about?" (Y/n) responds, amusement crossing over her face.

Ash looks over at her with amusement of his own, "Wouldn't you like to know, sugar cube."

"Okay!" Dean says as he gets up from the table, "Give us a call as soon as you know something?"

"Si, si, compadre."

(Y/n) gets up from her seat, going to head after her brothers who already made their way back to the front, before being stopped by Ash.

"Hey, sugar cube. I wanna give ya somethin' before you hit the road," Ash says, as he leans against one of the chairs.

"Oh? And what's that?" (Y/n) replies with a flirtatious simper.

"Give me your hand," Ash says simply, "and you'll get your big surprise."

"Okay..." (Y/n) chuckles, reaching her arm out. Ash grabs at her wrist softly, eyeing each one of her fingers before placing something cool to the touch over her middle finger.

"mnemosynum," Ash announces with a bow, granting her access to what he put on her. A bulk piece of metal clung to her slim finger; the initial A engraved in it. "Until we meet again."

"Why?" (Y/n) asks. It's not that she didn't like it; it was quite charming. She was just slightly confused on why she got the gift in the first place.

"I have a good feeling about you, sweet cheeks. I think we are going to be tight these next couple months," Ash announces, "You can keep that, by the way."

"Thanks... You know, I can say the same thing for you."

"Is that so?"

"It's so."

---

"Come on, kiddo. We gotta get going," Dean says as he grabs his keys from the top of the motel's mini fridge.

"Why's that?" (Y/n) responds, not looking up from her book. "I thought you and Sammy were just going to the town over."

"We need some info," Dean pauses as he checks out the ring on his sister's finger, "and I'm sure your roadkill boyfriend would love to see you."

"He's not roadkill, Dean!" (Y/n) shouts, slamming her book shut. "And he's not my boyfriend!"

"Sure, and you aren't red as a tomato right now," Dean smirks. "Seriously though, we gotta go, so... get to moving, princess. Your frog prince is waiting~"

#fanfiction #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x sister reader #sam winchester x sister reader #supernatural x sister! reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #ash supernatural #supernatural ash x reader #supernatural #ash x reader #winchesters x reader #dean x reader x sam #sam x reader x dean

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theoldwest · 8 months

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hunter’s camera roll 🌿 pt 1

images you’ve snapped while riding and hunting alongside the winchesters

(I don’t own these images:-))

#sam and dean #cowboy thoughts #dean winchester #sam winchester #winchesters x reader #spn #supernatural

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smartycvnt · 8 months

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Being Bobby's daughter and going on a hunt with the winchesters hc?

Bobby hates the idea of you hunting, but he wouldn't let you go with anybody else

It's a simple job, just some vampires in a nearby town and the guys just happen to be around

They are like your brothers, the ones that your mom didn't live long enough to have

They're at your side the moment you sound potentially distressed.

You save their asses at the end of the day, but nobody mentions it to Bobby for your sake

#supernatural x reader #supernatural headcanon #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #winchesters x reader #headcanons #platonic headcanons #family headcanons

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

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God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

Dean Winchester x plus size reader x Sam Winchester

A close call makes the boys realise that they need to enjoy the little things.

Warnings: injuries, blood, frostbite, concussions, hunt gone wrong but no death, NO WINCEST, implied polyamorous relationship, angst

WC: 1.2k

Square Filled: Christmas light tour @spnchristmasbingo

Minors DNI

SPN Christmas Bingo

Hunting was exhausting. It was dirty and gross and both physically and mentally taxing. But there was something about December and the holidays that made monsters act up even more than other times of the year. Cas had once said it had to do with the winter solstice but you thought that was a load of crap. Monsters were just being monsters and the only reason they went nuts at this time of year was because they knew hunters would be slacking off due to the cold and the early sunsets.

Sam and Dean practically carried you into the shitty motel room they had found for this hunt. You were bleeding and probably concussed with a hint of frostbite on the tips of your fingers and toes. Your head rolled as you were placed on the couch, the ancient springs beneath you groaning with your weight.

The brothers had a wordless conversation, their eyes meeting over you as Dean held you up, one of his large hands planted on your sternum, the other gripping the back of your neck. Sam quickly scurried away, heading straight for the incredibly stocked first aid kit you kept in your bag.

“C’mon sweetheart, keep those pretty eyes open for me.” Dean pleaded, his voice strained with emotion. It was too close of a call for him.

“Yer the one with purty eyesss.” Your words were slurred, a sure sign that you were about to pass out. Sam’s hands trembled as he ripped open the pack, gathering up all of the bandages he could and grabbing a bottle of whiskey they had been keeping as a celebratory drink for the end of the hunt. He ended heavily on his knees in front of you.

“I need to take your shirt off, is that ok?” You slumped forward and your forehead collided with the younger brother’s but you did not flinch, your body having gone numb long ago.

“You tryin ta get in ma pantssss? Cause that’s a yes from me.” You giggled, trying to reach for him but a strong arm moved to wrap around your chest, pulling you backwards. Dean’s lips fit against your ear, whispering soothing words that you couldn’t quite comprehend before turning to his brother.

“Just cut it off her, we need to stop the bleeding.” Swallowing hard, Sam nodded. The plaid was quickly sliced away, exposing your soft stomach to them. They simultaneously sucked in a breath, it was bad, really really bad.

As Sam worked, desperately trying to stop the bleeding and disinfect the wound with the expensive alcohol, your face fit itself into Dean’s neck, whining into his skin with each stitch. He held you as close as he could, wanting to take your pain away but knowing he wasn’t able to.

He hummed softly, his own eyes squeezed shut, not able to stand seeing you being slowly pulled back together. He blamed himself, he was the one that lost sight of you for a second, allowing for the shifter to grab you and inflict pretty severe damage. Dean would never forget that feeling of the monster that took your face telling him all of your deepest and darkest secrets as it taunted them, saying you were already dead, bleeding out in the snow.

His calloused fingers fit against the curve of your neck. He could feel the thready beat of your heart, but it was enough for now. You were alive and safe in his arms.

Sam felt like he couldn’t breathe, he literally held your life in his hands. Logically, he knew his hand was more steady than his brother’s, his stitches straighter but he wanted to throw the needle and thread towards Dean and comfort you instead.

His heart had stopped when the shifter emerged from the shadows. Everything about the visage was perfect but he knew it wasn’t you. It could never have the same softness of your eyes, your playfulness even in the most dire of circumstances. Dean froze but he didn’t. He let the rage consume him, already mourning your life.

But then, they found you; half-conscious and pale from the blood loss, yet you were alive. The squeeze of pain and anger around his heart had lessened as he held you close in the back of the Impala, keeping your head up and against his collarbone as your soft body fit between his muscular legs.

Your breaths were getting deeper as you went limp in Dean’s arms. They let you fall asleep, knowing you were mostly out of danger. Sam tied off the last stitch and wrapped it in bandages, pulling the torn edges of the plaid back over your exposed skin before he breathed a sigh of relief.

“That was too close.” He remained kneeled between your legs, hands unconsciously squeezing your knees as he usually did when he was anxious. Dean couldn’t meet his gaze and he knew he was blaming himself for what happened.

“I thought she-“ Dead. He couldn’t say it because saying it would make it real. Sam slumped forward, his head falling onto your plump thighs.

“We need a vacation.”

——————

Your head throbbed painfully like your skull was too small to fit your brain. You groaned, your arms flailing as you attempted to gain some type of awareness of your surroundings. Soft blankets engulfed you, keeping you in a cocoon of warmth.

You licked your cracked lips as you attempted to remember what happened before you fell asleep. There was a hunt, as per usual, you got separated from Dean because of a stupid hidden revolving door and then, blackness.

Your eyebrows scrunched in concentration as you tried to remember anything else. But the gentle vibration underneath you and the soft rock from the radio was quickly lulling you back to sleep. “Hey beautiful, glad to see you’re finally awake.” With a great deal of effort, you forced your eyes open.

Sam was leaning over the back of the front seat, looking visibly shaken. You noticed how his hands had been cleaned raw, the skin inflamed and red. “Who died?” You tried to break the tension with a joke but the way that Dean’s shoulders tensed and Sam’s gaze dropped to the floor told you everything you needed to know. Swallowing, you spoke again. “How close was it?”

“Too close.” Dean didn’t even bother to look at you. Sam glanced at his brother before turning back to you.

“Don’t run off like that again.” He almost cooed, reaching down to cup your jaw. You nodded into his hand, your head suddenly getting heavy. “Stay awake just a bit longer for me, we need to get some food in you before we can give you any more meds.”

“I need more motivation than food to stay awake.”

“How about Christmas lights?” Dean finally looked back at you, a sad smile on his lips before he gestured for you to look out the window. With Sam’s help, you sat up against the leather seats, a blanket quickly wrapped around your torso before you were able to get cold, and looked outside.

Houses surrounded you, each one bigger than the last, with perfect lawns and pristine gardens, even beneath all the snow. Lights were everywhere, intricately braided together to create colourful patterns that lit up the whole street. Dean drove slowly down the way, letting you take in every bulb and every lawn ornament.

“Wow.” Your breath fogged up the window, briefly obscuring your view but your focus remained on the incredible decorations. “You were right Dean, this was good motivation.” You didn’t see it but the brothers glanced at each other, making a silent vow.

Never again.

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sincerelylea · 1 year

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tw: angst, severe angst

platonic between reader/winchesters, fix me fic. that's all ur getting out of me writing wise for supernatural; fix me fic galore.

sam's hand, lifted by his elbow, raises to wrap against your bedroom door. he can see it now, dean’s disappointment showing evident on his face when he’d inevitably tell him he couldn’t do it or that you refused to answer again. his jaw clenches then releases numerous times - and by god his hand is nearly shaking trying to knock against your door.

truth is, he’s afraid. afraid of what he might find one day when you don’t answer and he gets brave enough to break down the door.

you aren’t the same. but he knows no one could after spending a year in flames - a year in the pit.

a familiar sting of pain rings out in his chest at the thought. sam knew fixing people was impossible; hell he’d tried too many times with dean to know it was. but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t help you pick up your pieces and glue them back together.

dean’s leg is shaking as he lays back on his bed - that frustrated line in his brow as he thinks over what could be going on a few doors down. he has a sick feeling it isn’t good. that you won’t answer, that you might be dead in there. and he throws himself up from his bed at the thought.

they’d been where you were - he wanted you to realize that to at least let them in again. he knew you would look down at the handprints on your arms and think about it - hell dean still glances over his shoulder in the shower or when he shaves and thinks about being pulled out by cas.

but this. this was eating you - he saw you crumble by the day. him and sam both.

you spent your days curled in bed, eyes fixed on the wall with visions of hell plastered behind your eyelids playing like a film you couldn’t escape. you’d scrub your skin to rid the permanent feeling of slick blood dried on your skin. you’d cover every inch of you if it meant to hide the healing wounds and bruises and scayou’d pull your hair back taught behind headbands and clips and bandanas if it meant you didn’t have to feel your hair touch you like it felt when you were down there. rs. you changed your body wash and lotion to a scent you didn’t remember.

but worst of all. you saw it in their faces. saw that look that said they saw you like that. naked and bloody from the pit, following you anywhere, you were puddy in their hands.

looking at them was a reminder that it was real. you couldn’t escape your brain - you had to live with it. and a burning guilt ate at you besides the constant reliving of it that you were failing them.

the next morning you showered, pulled your hair back, wiped tears from your eyes and cheeks, and covered your hands with your long sleeve shirt and flannel (stolen from dean’s arsenal he kept) and met them for breakfast.

it was nerve wracking enough to step out into the world outside of the safe space of your bedroom. shaky handed, watery eyed, your knees almost buckled at the thought of having to do it.

you villainized the idea of touching someone after you returned - it’d been a week since you saw the insides of hell, and six days since looking at sam or dean. your greatest comfort turned so sour in your mouth - you only yearned to gain that comforting feeling form them again.

you knew they’d never hurt you,

up here at least.

when you turn the corner, the skin around your eyes a sickly shade of red and your eyes as well - dean looks like he’d seen a ghost.

you shuffle out further and clear your throat - sam turns from his spot at the stove. the smell of coffee warms your insides, and you stand at the table and feel small beneath the two set of eyes focused keenly on you.

at any second you’re waiting on fire to spurt from the table and engulf the room and to be reminded you’re still in hell - but it doesn’t happen.

dean stands, ditching his coffee and computer.

your eyes focus on the floor, but for a moment they dart upwards to meet dean’s. he’s got that soft look - melted like butter. the line in his brow is soft, concerned, worried. it’s killing you. his fists clench once by his sides. you decide to keep your eyes on him.

you remember dean before hell. his metallica and motley crue records - the way he ate his burgers, that one time you sneaked a couple of strips of bacon in one you’d made with him and you thought he’d pass out right then in there. the way he always smelled woodsy and his working-man-hands were surprisingly kind. the way he’d squeeze your shoulder and force you to tell him that you’d be careful on a hunt. how his hugs felt, how he kissed the crown of your head when you found out your parents were dead.

you owe something to them.

“i-i…” you swallow, and bring your hands together to wring them nervously. dean sees the water growing on your lash line and wishes you’d just stop. you don’t need to do this, you don’t have to do this. “i-i know i’ve been… away… since-” you bite the inside of your cheeks.

“anyway. sorry for not being more active.” every word you say sounds like it’s exasperating; like death could claim you at any second. you look up to sam across the room for only a moment, you decide not to think too much on the look on his face and instead focus back on the floor for a moment before looking back to dean.

“i’ll be better- i don’t know-” you feel his hands push your shoulders into his arms, meeting his body with a small bit of force.

it’s all overwhelming for a moment - but nearly immediately your eyes are watered over. he feels like a strong force. there in that moment you couldn’t be taken, you wouldn’t be - not like this. you were back, and human, and they were human, and real, and not figments of hell made to hurt you. this was dean. dean was holding you.

“i’m here.” he says, a whisper. you wrap your arms tight around his middle, his hand cradles the back of your head, presses you further.

“i know.” you respond, tearfully. that dam breaks like force, and you’re weeping into his sleep shirt, the tremble of your arms around him has him soothing your hair with his palm.

“we’re here, sweetheart.” you pull from dean, if anything to look at him and to remember him this way instead of that fearful look he had while sam wrapped a jacket around your battered frame the night they pulled you.

he braces your forearms first, but his hands are everywhere. he soothes the sides of your face, clearing hair from you and your neck, holding your jaw with care before squeezing your arms again.

“you don’t owe us an explanation.” sam speaks up. he’s wilted, tired even. his facial hair is growing in a bit, and he looks handsome and a bit aged like you always remembered.

you nod your head and wipe your face, tightly holding onto dean’s arm for a moment before you turn to sam and begin to walk towards him. “you don’t owe us anything. we want to help you.” sam’s large hand soothes over the top of your head before swiping over your wet cheeks.

your mouth is downturned, you fall into his hold. his cheeks leans into the top of your head, hand running over your back.

you remember sam before hell. he always smelled warm, and he always was. his embrace, his hands, his voice. he was gentle - always the one to care and ask and plead. you remember the way his face lit up on christmas when you got him a tolkien book set and an audible subscription. he hugged you with tissue paper still in his hands. you remember the way he was always patient at patching you up after hunts and how he’d always share his bed if you had a nightmare.

when you part, sam has that look in his eyes like he’s asking for permission. his hands are focused on your sleeves, fingers tucked into the edges waiting for your okay. dean’s coming up behind you when you nod, feeling the gentle way he braces your forearm with his opposite hand as he pulls up your sleeves to reveal the litters of scars and wounds and bruises - not only that, but the healed over handprints conquering your skin.

sam’s hand wraps around your forearm just over the grip of the handprint on your left arm, dean’s smooths over the one on your right.

“we’d never stop fighting for you, kid.” dean reminds from your right. you look up to him and nod.

“i’ll never stop fighting for you guys either.”

the bath water was pink. though the water was warm you were shaking in the tub. your wounds ached at the feeling of water in them, muscles relaxed in the warmth yet you’re still on high alert that it isn’t over.

dean pours water over the back of your hair, sam gently rubs off dirt from your nails.

your eyes are focused clear on the wall in front of you.

“it’ll be okay.”

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narcissisticmf · 1 year

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anguish | sam winchester x gn!reader

request: ""go away." "that's the last thing you need from me right now." - Sam Winchester please 🙏 (him saying go away and reader saying following lines) and angsty?!❤️" from @bitchjerksammy

description: while sam is struggling mentally, y/n believes they can help him.

trigger warnings: angst, mentions of anxiety, mentions of depression, fluff, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: <1k

The bunker was quiet, the only subtle sounds came from old pages turning in books of lore and the furnace running lowly through the vents. The lamps flickered gently every so often as you sat in the bunker's library with a laptop propped open and an old men of letter's book beside you.

Your gaze rose to look at the time imprinted against the screen on your laptop. It read 10:56 AM. Your brows furrowed as Sam was nowhere to be seen this morning, the two of you had planned to do some case looking that morning.

Standing up from the table, you pushed your chair out and walked around the table to head down the hall towards Sam's room. Once you made it through the long corridor, you were before the youngest Winchester's bedroom door and knocked softly.

There was a pause. Stillness ran through the otherside of the door.

"Sam?" Your voice was soft as you leaned your head closer to the door.

"Yeah?" Sam answered, his voice muffled from the other room.

"Are you okay? You didn't forget about our plans this morning, did you?" You asked as you respectfully kept your hand off the doorknob.

There was no answer.

"Sam?"

Still no answer.

"Can I come in?" You asked.

There was a long string of silence before the doorknob twisted and the door was pulled opened. You saw the room was dimly lit by the lamp on Sam's beside table. You stepped in and saw that he walked away from the door and sat against the edge of his bed, still in his pajamas.

"What's going on?" You questioned.

"Nothing," Sam shook his head, avoiding eye contact

"Sam, cmon, you slept in past 7, that's not like you," You stood a fair distance from him as you watched him stare down into his lap.

"Y/N, I'm fine," He stated.

"Yeah and I'm the queen of England," You scoffed sarcastically. When Sam didn't chuckle or grin, you released a soft breath and took a seat beside him on his bed, keeping your gaze locked with his profile.

"Just.. go away," Sam mumbled.

"I think that's the last thing you need from me right now," You replied with your lips pressed together. "You either talk or don't, but I'm not leaving."

Sam lifted his head and turned his head to meet your warm gaze. You formed a small grin to create a sense of peace for him.

"You're really annoying, you know that?" Sam tried to fight his smile, but he failed miserably

"Maybe, but you love me," You smiled and nudged his shoulder with your own.

"Sure," Sam chuckled lightly.

"Ah cmon, I'm adorable," You laughed.

"Yeah, whatever," The youngest winchester had a smile on his face as he looked at you. You admired the way his lips curved into an upturned manner.

"We have work to do, so get changed and brush your teeth, your breath is smelly," You plugged your nose as Sam lightly shoved you in a playful approach. The two of you laughed as you stood up from the bed. You leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead as he sighed contently.

"I'll get you some coffee, okay?" You stated as Sam nodded with a warm grin.

Before you got the chance to leave the room, Sam stopped you, "Hey, Y/N/N?" You turned to look at him as you were under the doorway. "Thanks," He smiled softly.

"For what?" You furrowed your brow.

Sam continued to smile, "For checking on me."

"You don't have to thank me for that," You replied, "You're important to me, Sam. It's important to me that you're okay and when you're not I still wanna be there with you and for you."

Sam grinned and released a content breath through his nostrils, "I'll be out in a minute." You nodded with a smile and left the room, latching the door shut behind you.

a/n: thank you so much for your request!! AND FOR 1k!!! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING and i literally love you all so so much. you have brought so much confidence in me with my work and i'm always so happy to write for you. thank you for reading and for taking part in my 1k followers event! <33 — angelina.

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chubbyreaderchan · 1 year

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I'm rewatching Supernatural and I hope to finish it this watch through but I was thinking about Sam or Dean with a reader who is a child of a hunter and lived a similar life to the boys but was chronically ill their whole life and doesn't really do the labor parts of hunting but is like a human encyclopedia of weird because they have been reading about it since they could read.

#supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #sam winchester x you #dean winchester x you #Winchesters x reader #Dean Winchester x reader #Sam Winchester x reader

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clarks-letterman · 4 months

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random crossovers i want to write with no explanation:

resident evil/supernatural

resident evil/rwrb (alex and henry in the white house defending themselves)

supernatural/school spirits (like how they used to do monster of the weeks and all, split river is one of their many pit stops)

#resident evil #rwrb movie #school spirits #x reader #x male reader #wally clark x reader #supernatural x reader #winchesters x reader #re x reader #re #resident evil x reader

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 months

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Daddy’s Girl

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader

Synopsis: your life growing up as Dean’s daughter (ignores cannon)

You were born of Dean’s short-lived relationship with Lisa. When he was forced to leave his family behind to keep them safe, he was also forced to take you with him. He’d wanted to leave you, to keep you safe, but with Lisa and Ben’s memories wiped of him, you got wiped with him.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said as Dean held you in his arms. “There’s no way to erase you without erasing her, too.”

Despite how much Dean wanted to keep you safe, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret how things turned out.

…

Sam pursed his lips, and Dean couldn’t hold back his laugh when he spotted his brother covered in broccoli.

You started giggling when you noticed your father’s smile, but Dean clamped his mouth shut when he saw you laughing.

“Hey now,” he scolded, trying desperately to look stern despite still being able to see the broccoli in Sam’s hair. “Don’t throw food.”

“Is yucky!” You whined, kicking your feet.

Dean gave you his signature ‘dad glare’ and you gave him the puppy eyes that he was convinced Sammy taught you just to drive him nuts.

Neither of you were willing to give in, far too stubborn for anyone’s good. Finally, Sam broke the awkward silence.

“How about we try a new veggie?”

…

“What are you watching?”

Dean tore his eyes away from the screen to see Sam standing in the doorway.

“Saw, why?”

Sam scoffed, “Do you think she’s old enough for that?” He gestured to five-year-old you, curled up in your dad’s arms.

“She’s out like a light, she has no clue what’s going on,” Dean assured him.

“So what, she’s your new stuffed animal?” Sam chuckled.

“It’s called parenting, Sammy. Now shut up, you’re gonna wake her up.”

…

“Daddy, look!”

Dean rubbed his hands over his face, closing the lore book in front of him when you came bounding into the war room.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” He asked, his voice thick with exhaustion as he lifted you into his lap.

“I maked the Impala,” you grinned, showing off a pencil sketch of Baby colored in with a black crayon. “Uncle Sammy only helped a little.”

Dean could tell from the detail of the drawing that Sam helped more than a little, but he didn’t care.

“This is great!” He praised. “Baby would be so proud, looks almost as good as her.”

You giggled. “Can I hang it on the fridge?”

“I think it’d be a crime if we didn’t,” Dean insisted, standing up with you in his arms so he could carry you to the kitchen.

…

“Dad!”

Dean staggered back in surprise when ten-year-old you launched yourself into his arms the moment he stepped into the bunker.

“Hey kid,” he chuckled, but his smile dropped when he noticed your strangled breaths, and how tightly you were clinging to him. “You ok? We weren’t gone that lon-“

“Someone’s in the bunker,” you whispered, and Dean now also noticed that you were shaking.

“What?” He demanded, lowering you to the ground and grabbing his gun with one hand, keeping his other hand on your shoulder protectively.

“I-I heard footsteps,” you stammered, still trying to catch your breath. “So I ran, and-and I was looking for a place to hide when you opened the door.”

“You’re sure it was footsteps?”

“I know what I heard!” Your stammer left you when your fear turned to annoyance.

“Ok, ok,” Dean soothed. “I believe you. Now, I want you to go and hide in my room, ok? Stay there, and don’t open the door unless it’s me, understand?”

“B-but…” you glanced around nervously, unwilling to let go of your father.

“I need you to do this,” Dean said. “I need you safe, ok? You’re gonna be fine.”

You nodded, but Dean’s jacket was still clenched between your fingers.

“C’mon now, go!” Dean gave your arm a gentle push, and as soon as the two of you were no longer touching you seemed spurned into action. You ran in the other direction, headed straight for your dad’s room.

Once the door was closed and locked behind you, you immediately went to sit on Dean’s bed, your arms wrapped around your knees as you tried hard to stop your trembling.

You assured yourself over and over again that your dad would take care of it; he’d get the intruder out, and it would all be ok. When you heard footsteps echoing through the hall, your heart lifted, sure that your dad was coming to get you.

But then the doorknob jiggled as someone tried to open it. It stopped, but still no knock came, no “hey, it’s me,” from Dean; nothing.

Until with a loud bang! the door flew free of its hinges.

You scrambled back with a cry of surprise, and your hand found something hard under Dean’s pillow. You snatched it up as the intruder—a tall man with blond hair and a dark suit—stalked towards you.

You lifted the object, surprised when you saw that it was Dean’s gun.

“St-stay back!” You warned. The man hesitated for only a second before continuing his advance towards you.

“You don’t have the guts,” he scoffed. He took one more step—he was only a couple of feet away—and reached out to grab you.

The gun kicked back in your hands as you fired, and you nearly dropped it. A look of morbid shock crossed the man’s face, but it only lasted for a brief second as he slumped to the ground at the side of Dean’s bed.

Your whole body was shaking. Your hands didn’t seem able to let go of the gun. You could feel blood on your face where it had splattered.

“Sweetheart?”

Your whole body flinched at the sound of your father’s voice. He was in the center of the room—you hadn’t even noticed him come in—and his hands were held out towards you.

“Sweetheart, give me the gun.”

Your hands went limp when Dean grabbed the gun. He tossed it onto his bed, his attention never leaving your face, which was turned towards the dead man on the floor.

“Hey, Y/N, look at me,” Dean demanded. Your eyes slowly found your father’s, afraid of what you might find there. But there was no anger, or judgment, not even surprise. There was only comfort, maybe a little worry.

“Let’s go,” Dean said, lifting you into his arms. When he saw you staring at the dead man, he cradled the back of your head in his hand and pushed your face against his shoulder as he carried you out of the room.

“I killed him.”

Your voice came out muffled against Dean’s shirt, and Dean’s heart constricted at the quaver in your voice.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he soothed, subconsciously rocking you in his arms like he used to do when you could barely crawl. “He was gonna hurt you, you defended yourself. You did nothing wrong.” Dean sighed. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I didn’t want you to have to do that.”

“I killed somebody,” you said again, and Dean’s arms tightened around you. He knew he couldn’t talk you out of this; not yet, you were still in shock. So he’d do the only thing he could.

“It’s gonna be ok, baby,” he soothed. “I promise.”

…

“Where is that girl?”

“You lookin for Y/N?” Sam asked as Dean wandered around the bunker.

“Unless we’ve got another girl living here I don’t know about,” Dean shot back.

Sam just rolled his eyes.

“She’s in the library doing homework.”

“Again?” Dean shook his head. “I think I’ve let her spend too much time with you, she’s becoming quite the nerd.”

“Don’t look at me,” Sam chuckled. “I told her to take a break like an hour ago. That nerdy behavior is all her.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean closed the book in front of Sam. “You both need a break.”

“Ok,” Sam shrugged. “Good luck, she’s just as stubborn as you.”

“We’ll see.”

…

“Hey!” You yelped in surprise when your dad lifted you up and out of your chair, Sam watching from the doorway with a grin on his face.

“No more books, you two have spent too much time being nerds this week.”

“But I have a paper to write!”

“You mean that paper you told me is due in three weeks?”

“Well…”

“Uh huh,” Dean said. “You’ve got time, so take a break.”

“On one condition; we watch Lord of the Rings.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam cut in.

“Oh come on,” Dean groaned. “Could you two be bigger nerds?”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t want to watch it,” you giggled, trying to squirm out of Dean’s hold since he still hadn’t put you down.

“I don’t remember asking for your input,” Dean huffed, setting you down on your bed and digging his fingers into your stomach. You squealed in surprise as your dad tickled you. “And I certainly didn’t ask for your sass!”

“Who-who do you thin-think taught it to me!” You giggled, squirming as Dean didn’t let up.

“Hey now!” Dean scoffed. “Now you’re just asking for it.”

Dean continued to scratch and poke at your sides, your stomach, and your neck until your face was bright red and your laughter was silent.

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean said as he let up, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way towards the Dean cave, Sam following behind.

“Yo-hou’re mean,” you giggled.

Dean just chuckled.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

#dean winchester #dean and sam #the winchesters #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #sam winchester x niece!reader

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sweethxart222 · 9 months

Text

Parings: Sam Winchester x sister!reader, Dean Winchester x sister!reader

Warnings: reader's death, wound and blood, basically angst

Word count: 276

A/n: first fic for supernatural! I just started it and I couldn't help writing for that:3

"S-sammy..."

She said, trying to breathe properly.

Her lungs were burning, she felt her heart beating so fast and so loud that she was sure her brother could hear it.

Her shaky hand gripped on his arm, warm tears running down her cheeks and staining them with her now messed up mascara.

"Where's Dean?"

She asked.

Sam couldn't stop the bleeding, the wound on her side too deep.

"He... He'll be back in a minute he... He was fighting t-"

She interrupts him.

"I... I need him..."

She says, crying harder.

It hurted like hell, and she just wanted her brothers, the only family she had, by her side.

"I hope... I hope death will be... Like when I was a kid and he would pick me up and take me to bed because I fell asleep in the car"

She says, holding on Sam.

She buries her head on the crook of his neck, closing her eyes.

She was exhausted, she just wanted to sleep.

The sounds arond her became muffled, and she didn't even hear Dean arrive until she felt him wrap his arms around her in a warm hug.

"I hope it's gonna be..."

She tries to say, but her voice is starting to become weak.

"Like when you fell asleep in Baby and I would pick you up and take to bed"

He says,a soft smile on his lips despite the tears in his eyes,brushing her hair out of her face, looking at her.

"I hope I'll hear you and Sammy laugh"

She whispered, smiling back and closing her eyes for the last time.

#supernatural season 1 #Sam Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x reader #winchesters x reader #angst

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missshezz · 1 year

Text

Title: Omens

Rating: Teens and up (T for language)

Warnings: None apply

Word Count: 1100

Tags: Season 1, Winchesters x Reader, no romance, YOU is reader, Sam and Dean happen along to save reader, Original Supernatural monster, angst, drama, hunt of the week type story

Summary: You think Lady Luck is simply being a vindictive bitch when you experience a rush of bad luck until a freak encounter with Sam and Dean

If luck were a lady, well, she was a real bitch.

Why else would everything that happened that night, happen?

You tried to shrug it off initially.

Shit happened as your old man liked saying.

Plus, some things were just freak occurrences.

Microwaves go out.

Pipes bust.

Roofs leak.

Electronics die.

Cars break down.

All on the same day, though?

That was a bit much for even you to believe.

You rolled with the punches, though. Took it all in stride. Wasn’t like you had much choice really. Thought things would improve once you got to work.

Oh, boy were you wrong.

So, so terribly wrong.

Your key broke off in the padlock on your locker.

The ink ran out of your pen.

You dropped a tray of glasses.

One tray you could say oops.

Three?

No.

Luckily, your boss didn’t pitch the fit you expected he would.

“Shit happens, kid,” was all he said before he went back to his nightly poker game. “Cost to replace ‘em comes outta your paycheck.”

As if you could afford the deduction.

You ate it, though, because twenty bucks for a new set of glasses was far better than being unemployed and homeless.

Luckily, the bar was hopping that night. Playoffs and holidays always netted you extra dough. You picked up some serious change from a group of your regulars celebrating one of them retiring from their shit job at the steel mill and another becoming a first-time grandpa.

The tall, reed-thin man seated in one corner was the only other downside to your night.

You encountered a lot of weirdoes in your time at the bar but this guy took the cake.

He reminded you of Monsieur D'Arque from Beauty and the Beast.

Stringy black hair framed a pockmarked face with a scar zigzagging from the corner of thin lips to a pointy chin.

His eyes were what stuck with you the most.

They were an almost hypnotic shade of gold.

You shuddered whenever you passed his table.

You couldn’t refuse to serve him, though.

Not after you dropped ten more glasses, broke four bottles of beer, and sliced your finger open while cutting limes.

Closing time came and the bar emptied.

“How you getting home?” Darlene asked as you cleaned up. “Your brother giving you a ride?”

“Tommy left yesterday for school.”

“Forgot he left.” She grabbed a rag and started drying the glasses you washed. “I can ask Daria if we can drop you at your place.”

“That’s going out of your way.”

“Daria won’t mind.”

“Thanks,” you said. “But I’ll walk. I don’t live far.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

You finished up and exited the bar with Darlene a half hour later.

“You sure you don’t want me to ask Daria to drop you at your place?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, well, night then.”

“Night.”

You spot an old car as you cross the parking lot and figure somebody else encountered Lady Luck.

It was a nice looking car, too. Shiny black body, chrome grill, shiny aluminum wheels.

Someone clearly loved it.

Making it strange they’d leave it in a parking lot instead of getting it towed home.

You hoped it’d still be there when they returned for it in the morning.

And be in one piece.

A chill snaked its way down your back despite the night being unseasonably warm. You reach into your pocket for the can of mace you carried for any sort of situations and quickened your pace. A figure came around the corner just as you reached it. Your instincts shouted at you to run but your feet refused to obey.

The man stepped into the light and you recognized him as Monsieur D'Arque.

“Good evening, my dear.” Unease slithered through you as a bone-chilling grin crept over his face. “A pleasant evening for a stroll, is it not?”

If luck be a lady, than she was a royally vindictive bitch, you decided as you backed away.

There wasn’t anywhere to go, though.

All the businesses around you were closed for the night.

The closest police station was over a mile away.

Firehouse twice that.

Still, you had to try.

Lady Luck wasn’t going to win that easily, after all.

“Where do you think you are going, my dear?”

“Not where you’re goin’, fugly!”

The sharp report of a gun blasted by your ear. Your heart slammed against your ribcage and your breath wheezed out from between lips that felt like they were frozen together as a strange yellow ooze seeped outward from a small, black hole in the middle of Monsieur D'Arque’s forehead.

Shock, agony, and rage twisted his face into a gruesome mask. He took a step towards you, long, bony fingers outstretched, but you were pulled out of reach by a tall, shaggy-haired man you remembered arguing with another earlier that evening.

“You’re safe now,” he told you as Monsieur D'Arque exploded into a cloud of black dust. “He can’t hurt you.”

“What… what just happened?” you managed around the ball of ice lodged in your throat. “Who was he?”

“Doctor Daniel Luckhaven.”

“Luckhaven?” A frown creased your brow as you recalled seeing that name on a plaque at the local hospital. “He died in 1891.”

“He discovered a way to extend his life.”

“How?”

“By drinking the blood of people who have experienced a rush of bad luck.”

Not exactly the weirdest stuff you’ve heard living in this town.

You heard stranger shit whenever Milly Jenkins went off her meds or Lewis Carmichael tied one on.

Still, even you found yourself a bit weirded out by this.

“Shoulda taken that other chick up on her offer of a ride,” the man with the gun rasped as he joined you. “Wouldn’t have almost become Liquid Delight.”

“Dean,” the shaggy-haired one hissed.

“It’s the truth, Sammy.”

“Sam and Dean?” You looked first at the man sliding the gun he used into the waistband of his jeans before angling your head back to look at the one who pulled you to safety. “Are you related to John Winchester?”

“He’s our father.”

“That’s why you’re in town,” you said as the pieces all came together. “You’re hunters. Like him.”

“Yeah, we are.”

“Should’ve guessed.” At Sam’s inquisitive look, you added, “I always have a run of bad luck right after your dad comes through town.”

“He was here?” Hope added flecks of gold to Dean’s green eyes. “When?”

“Yesterday.”

Which was right about the time your streak of bad luck started.

Luck wasn’t a lady, after all.

It was a bad omen.

Named John Winchester.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader #Sam x reader #winchesters x reader #no romance #just friends #platonic #you is reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #spn gifs #gifs #supernatural gifs #flashing gifs #scorp writes fan fiction

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