#winchesters

Requested by anon: Sam and Dean return back to the bunker after a hunt, were they had to kill a witch, and the reader is waiting for them- they’ve been gone for a few days and they’re anxious. When she see’s Sam she immediately kisses him (they’re dating), however what she doesn’t know is that the witch cursed the boys and they’ve switched bodies. So, she’s kissing Dean not Sam.

Warnings: It’s shitty.

Word count: 768

A/N: I haven’t watched Supernatural in at least two years, so I’M SORRY. I literally felt as if I was learning how to ride a bike or something like that cuz this is no longer me. :( So I hope it doesn’t suck that much. I’m sorry for ripping that request apart. I really tried my best.

Enjoy, I guess.

The loud roar from the Impala followed by a short silence announced the return of the Winchesters to the bunker. They had been out on a witch hunt that had apparently succeeded and know it was their time to rest – that is only IF they decided to rest.

(Y/N) had anxiously waited for them to come back. Specifically, she had been waiting for Sam.

She headed outside, not being able to wait for them to come inside, and ran straight towards Sam. He had been taking their bags out of the trunk when he got tackled by his girlfriend.

Without hesitation, (Y/N) puckered up and kissed him as if it had been years since she’d seen him – a habit she had acquired a long time ago. Sam, however, did not respond as she expected.

His lips remained still and his eyes widened. He held her tightly and pushed her away.

Dean followed quickly, holding (Y/N) softly from behind while Sam got up.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His puppy eyed mode was suddenly on.

“What?” (Y/N) panicked. “What is going on?”

Dean swallowed loudly and looked at (Y/N) for a second before looking directly to his brother. Sam hesitated, not knowing how to say what he meant to say.

“Oh my God, I knew it!” (Y/N) spoke. Her eyes were wide and full of shock.

“You do?” Sam asked, feeling a sudden relief. “Thank God, I thought this would be harder but if you know…”

“Yeah, it’s better that way,” Dean nodded and let go off (Y/N)’s arms.

“I should’ve known before, you don’t act like yourself and…” (Y/N) continued.

“Yes! I know!” Sam cheered, “See? I knew you would get it.”

Of course she got it. Sam hadn’t been the same ever since Castiel left. She didn’t think it would affect him as much as it would affect Dean, but truth was Sam did feel terribly after he left.

She had tried to be a good companion, she had tried to help Sam feel supported, she had really tried her best. Maybe it wasn’t enough.

The Winchesters always acted like that. If one friend left them, then they didn’t want any friend at all… Maybe Sam was feeling like she would leave too, just like Castiel, in spite of loving him.

She loved him. She really loved him and Sam was probably thinking she didn’t and so he was breaking up with her.

“Fine,” she said. Her head was now clear. “I… I tried my best, but I respect your choice.”

Sam suddenly looked even more confused.

“I will go and pack my stuff,” she said. “You are a good man, Sam,” she patted her shoulder and went back inside. Neither of the Winchesters followed her, they were gobsmacked and unable to even walk.

She went inside her shared room with Sam, refusing to shed a single tear in front of them, and took out her backpack from the closet.

How could she pack so many memories in just one backpack? She had built her home next to Sam and now…

Sam and Dean stormed inside the room.

“It’s not what you think it is!” Dean yelled, calling (Y/N)’s attention.

“What?” (Y/N) shrugged.

“You think that I… That Sam is breaking up with you, right?” Dean stuttered.

“Well, obviously, because…”

“He’s not.” Dean interrupted and cleared his throat. “I’m not.”

“What?”

“(Y/N),” Sam spoke, “I’m not Sam.”

“What do you mean?” (Y/N) stepped back.

“I am,” Dean stated.

(Y/N) stared at them in shock and then burst in laughter.

“The witch we killed cursed us as she died…” Dean continued to explain, “so now I’m Sam and he’s Dean, but me Sam is he Dean and he Dean is me Sam…”

“So… I kissed Dean?” (Y/N) inquired.

“Yes.”

“Dean in Sam’s body?”

“Yes.”

“That’s just…” (Y/N) shrugged in disgust. “So we’re not breaking up?”

“No, I would never,” Dean (Sam) shook his head and gave her his best Dean dreamy eyes.

“Oh, thank God!” She threw herself once more into his arms… Except those were Dean’s arms, and sighed.

Sam, in Dean’s body, kissed her passionately while Dean, in Sam’s body, just stared in awe. He always wondered how he’d look like with (Y/N). Not that liked her, it was just for funsies.

(Y/N) pulled away.

“This is too weird…” She said, “We must fix this.”

Both brothers agreed.

One call and thirty minutes later, the Winchesters were all set. It was not a hard curse to cast, therefore not a hard curse to remove.

“So (Y/N),” Dean inquired during dinner, “who’s a better kisser: me or Sam?”

-

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samcoded:

the thing is. if sam was supposed to be the brother that got out of the life, why did they give him no dreams outside of hunting? like okay, let’s say you count him going to law school to become a lawyer as one. so he had a dream fifteen years ago that he has expressed no interest in since. the only non-hunting jobs we’ve seen him in since the show started are angel-assigned generic IT guy for an episode (he smashes his phone and desk with a crowbar) and kind of a motel repairman in the most forced story line ever. sam’s only dreams of normal life are nebulous ideas that he never actually pursues when he has the ability. what about dean? he’s been a bar owner. mechanic. he’s talked so many times about things he’d like to be if he wasn’t a hunter! even when the angels forced him into the role of upper management, he was excelling in his position because he genuinely enjoyed it! i bet you anything you could find at least one textual example per season of dean fantasizing about what life would be like if he wasn’t trapped as a hunter. don’t even make me think about the job application on his desk in the finale or i will start crying!

Chemical Attraction

Dean flashed you a cheesy grin. “You did good out there tonight. Proud of you.” His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, but he still seemed mostly sober.

He was checking out the group of women up at the front of the bar, who wore more revealing clothing than you dared.

You envied their confidence. Sometimes you wished you had the grit to do that stuff.

Dean didn’t fake reluctance to leave you or Sam. He knew what he wanted, and he knew how to get it. When he finished his drink, he made his move, leaving the table, and you and Sam with it.

The younger Winchester smiled at you awkwardly. You could tell he wanted to leave as well—he and some girl at the bar had been making googly eyes at each other since he walked in—but was conflicted on leaving you.

“Sam,” you said impatiently. “That girl has been giving you the eyes since we walked in. And don’t think I don’t see you sending them back. If you don’t get up now, I’ll push you over there.”

You were glad that women weren’t assuming you and Sam—or Dean—were together; it made everything much less complicated. Both of the Winchesters were way out of your league. You were more likely the sister they never had.

He was a little surprised, and a little amused by your attitude. “Oh, really?”

“Don’t test me,” you joked.

He laughed, collecting his jacket and walking away.

Your deluding smile fell from your face once you were alone. Bars were usually their choice of festivity, but they mostly just made you uncomfortable.

You were now alone, as both of the boys hit on some chicks and snuck off to get laid. You were used to it. It wasn’t your ideal celebration, but if it made them happy, you’d bear it. You supposed they just assumed your interests matched theirs. Even if all you wanted to do was go home and sleep.

Anyway, the faster the Winchesters both left with broads, the faster you could leave. It was just that simple.

You sipped your whiskey that Dean had paid for. It was strong, and hard to swallow, but in small portions it was tolerable. You appreciated the gift, even if it wasn’t your preferred drink. Dean had a big heart, and you wouldn’t ruin your sweet moments with him because you were feeling picky.

You let your mind wander to a darker place.

You were still coming to terms with hunter life. And from what you’ve gathered, it was cruel, unfair, and thankless.

The Winchesters didn’t sugarcoat it, either. Everything that society looked down upon—the suspiciously cult-ish tattoos, borderline or over-the-line alcoholism (a line you were uncertain where Dean fell), and cheap clothing with leather jackets—was a signature of a hunter’s life. Not to mention the trigger-happy hands, suspicious glares, and their off-putting, dark looks.

It opened your eyes.

That “gothic” girl you saw in your neighborhood? That might have looked like a satanic tattoo, but it was actually an anti-possession tattoo that she got because she was terrified of the demons that wanted to kill her. And those knives in her pocket and backpack? That was for her safety, and probably yours, too.

Or that shady alcoholic up the street? Werewolves brutally murdered his friends, and he has to live with the survivor’s guilt. He drinks while obsessively researching how to hunt them down. Though he’ll likely die of a failing liver before ever taking on the pack.

The point was…

Looks weren’t always transparent.

And, well, you were everything hunters weren’t.

Your pain tolerance was pathetic, for one. Tattoos? Big nope. You hated all things needles, and despite tattoos looking cool, you liked to avoid pain, thanks.

Second, your wardrobe. As if that wasn’t blatantly obvious.

And, last, you were a hopeless lightweight. A few shots and you were tipsy. Dean thought it was hilarious.

Still, you drank your whiskey, feeling guilty that you hated it.

You were tired. It was dark out, and you could already feel the whiskey in your system. You just wanted to go home.

So the last thing you expected that night was for a guy to hit on you. You, feeling unlike yourself—and very drunk—warily flirted back.

He was charming. Thing was, with your buzzing vision, all you noticed were his eyes and handsome smile. You didn’t notice the more important things, like, say… the roofies dissolving in your drink.

Too bad you hadn’t—because you wouldn’t have let him breathe down your neck like he had been… or breathe at all, for that matter.

Your words slurred, and you leaned into him when he stood. “Hey, hey, h-hey, mister. Wheeere ya’ goin’ off to?”

You were smashed.

You didn’t feel too hot, either. You were practically dangling off his shoulders as he helped you from your chair, and your stomach churned. “I don’ feel so guud…” you slurred, keeling over to vomit on the pavement. Huh. You were outside?

You made out two shapes that looked dubiously like him. Albeit one may have very well been a trash can. “Yeeuur kindouf prr…retty.”

He snickered, though you weren’t sure what was so funny. “Just let it sink in,” he said. “It’s okay, babe.”

What was he talking about? You frowned, troubled. “Doe… don'ttt… calmeh that.”

There was only a muddy sense of direction. You fizzled in and out of consciousness, and your memory escaped you.

You were completely at this man’s mercy.

///

You woke up feeling like hell. The lights… the sounds…it was all too loud.

Your head felt like a crushed soda can. You turned—inch by inch—trying to get a view of the entire room, tied up—which, yeah, was a big red flag—and leaned awkwardly against the wall. When you finally saw behind you, you met the eyes of multiple other women in your same predicament.

The previous evening was a haze. Your mind was still catching up with the present, much less the past.

Something in the shadows of the room moved, and you watched as two figures loomed over an unconscious woman covered in dark, bloody bites around her neck and chest.

“Vamps,” you spat. But it came more like “vamffptss” through your gag with a few lisp-y expletives.

They spun around, smiling to themselves. A vampire crouched down to your level, taunting you, “Ah, so there is more to her than a pretty face! Who would have known? Are you a hunter, babe?”

A memory clicked as he said that. You might say it rang a bell—an alarm bell, anyway—but you couldn’t place it. His voice was bouncing around in your head and it was hard to focus.

“Sssgrew you.”

He stood, gave you a smirk, and drove his foot into your abdomen. Hard.

“Wow. I mean, you were a little feisty at the bar, but I never would have envisioned you’d have so much kick.” He winked at you, then turned back to his goonies. “Alright. Ship ‘em. Mark the pretty ones. They’ll be worth more.”

You puffed, still recovering from the harsh blow, as a skinny redhead yanked you up by the ropes. He was watching you like one looks in a microwave at their meal.

You thrashed. It was a weak move, hardly knocking him back on his heels, but it was also a minor triumph.

Then said vampire punched your throat, and all smugness disappeared.

The lead vamp turned to see the commotion and erupted, “Are you kidding me? Christ—get the gag off her, will you?!” When the others looked at him in alarm and skepticism, he barked, “She’s no use to us dead! Do you want her suffocating?”

Carrot Top worked the gag from your aching jaw, and you just laid there, winded, like a dead dog.

The Lead Vamp grabbed the shirt collar of your redhead attacker. “Hey, maybe don’t punch 'em in the throat next time. They’re gonna squirm a little—it’s what they do. So ignore it.”

“Yessir’.”

“Good. And, hey, guys—bag the ugly ones. I got a client for them.”

You coughed, propping yourself up by the elbow. You were concerned. Am I ugly?

The redhead vamp kicked you down by your arm, hissing, “Not you. We got a special guy for you. Likes the fighters.”

You were so tired and weak and helpless. Couldn’t do anything but lay there. You could only watch as the other vamps manhandled poor, terrified women.

“Leeches,” you said, earning you a foot to the face.

“Do yourself a favor and shut up.”

It was hard to not comply. As your head lolled, you spat blood at his feet. You would not go down easy.

He hauled you up, and his punch cracked like a whip.

You stared at his bloody knuckles, feeling your own arms twitch. The ropes were loose. You wondered briefly if you could even run—

Another strike had your vision swimming with stars.

“Hey. I got a question—huff—” You said, taking the punches like a champ and distracting him. “Has anyone ever told you—uff—that you look like—guh—Strawberry Shortcake?”

The ropes worked off your wrists and when he swung, you ducked—or fell, more like—away from his swing. Breathless, you pulled yourself to your feet to run.

The adrenaline was really the only thing keeping you going. Thing was, adrenaline didn’t give you accuracy, it just gave you strength. And little that strength was.

And, woah, was the ground spinning. You gagged as you watched the hallway sway. You were not in any shape to run, but you sure as hell tried to. You stumbled down the hallway, your knees giving out multiple times before you couldn’t pick yourself up again.

The vamp’s yell echoed down the hallway. “You’re not a hunter anymore, little lamb! You’re the hunted!” It probably wouldn’t take much for him to follow the sound of your hummingbird heart.

That was enough encouragement to get anyone on their toes. Even someone who was shaking like a leaf.

Whatever roofie they’d given you, it was enhanced. Everything was so hot and bright and loud. You wished the world could just be quiet. Your heart was beating so loud you could feel it in your teeth.

You clambered to the exit, reaching for the doors to push them open.

Just then, a hand pitched you backward, pulling down on your shoulder. You yelled out, petrified.

“It’s me, it’s just me,” Dean whispered quickly, easing you through the door, around the corner, and to where Baby was parked.

Your heart was still jack hammering in your chest as he pulled you in for a hug. You were high as a kite on adrenaline.

“Been looking all over for you.” The pitch in his voice was more stressed than usual. You were like a little sister to him.

You leaned into his embrace. It was warm and solid and safe. And it was exactly what you needed to ground yourself.

“He drugged me,” you blurted. “He drugged me. I couldn’t—he just—”

He paled. “Did he touch you?” When you paused, his expression darkened. “I’ll rip his lungs out. I’ll kill every single one of them. I'll—”

“He didn’t touch me,” you interrupted. “Not like that.” You rested your forehead against his chest.

“Thank god.”

“But I think they would’ve.” You practically melted as he smoothed your hair down. “They’re human trafficking. Selling women as blood bags.”

Dean turned to Sam, who was leaned up against the Impala, and nodded at him. Sam took that as his cue to go ahead without Dean. “I got Sammy on it right now. You sure you’re alright?”

His arms around you were the only thing keeping you standing. “Just tired. And my head really hurts.” Gunshots went off behind you, and you flinched. Your ears were still sensitive.

“Sounds like nothing a little sleep can’t fix.” Dean patted your back and opened the back of the Impala.

You crawled in and fell asleep before Dean could even pull out of the parking lot.

“Let’s get you home,” he breathed.

Follow Your Heart

You tried following your heart, once, as a senior in college with straight A’s, a bright future, a career so close you could almost touch it. You were so close to satisfaction. So close to that diploma.

And all at once, that dream ceased to be. And all you could think was my heart must be very very lost.

It all began on a cloudy Friday evening, you were just about to end your shift with the dogs. It was a tangled mess of leashes when you made it back to the animal shelter. Sweat and dog hair covered you, and after a good shower of puppy kisses, you finally untangled yourself from the mass of dogs and return them to their rightful cages.

You refused to meet their sad eyes. You made that mistake, once, and had spent half an hour reassuring each heartbroken dog that they were, indeed, a good boy.

“I’ll see you guys in the morning!” you promised with a wave and a jangle of your dog whistle, and after a reply of barks, you left the building at dusk.

The road was silent, the street lamps weren’t on yet, and the clouds had become heavier in the sky. You had read in the forecast it was going to rain, but hadn’t expected this.

The tightness in your chest only continued to build as you made it to the campus. The sun was just barely visible behind the storm clouds that had rolled in. The wind had become cool, and the wind had picked up, sending chills up and down your spine.

Perhaps it was just a combination of paranoia and reasonable worry for a woman walking alone at night to her college dorm, except your blood chilled the moment you unlocked your room and entered.

The hair on your arms and the back of your neck were on end. Your eyes adjusted to the dim light, and you realized that the window was open, and the harsh breeze was whipping past you.

You laughed it off, feeling silly. Though that night you slept with your cover tight against your chest, back against the wall, and your little silver paring knife under your pillow.

The next day, you experienced the same fear. Except, this time, it was sunny out.

What was triggering these feelings of dread? It was like you couldn’t focus anymore. Everything just felt… itchy. That was the only way you could describe it.

With each day that passed, the source of your terror was slowly revealing itself. Little, weird things that wouldn’t be so noticeable to an outsider, but as someone who valued cleanliness and order, it might as well have been an elephant in the room.

Things were never as you left them. On Sunday morning you couldn’t find your hairbrush. Monday evening, your bed was mysteriously unkempt, even though you’d recalled making it that morning. Tuesday, the caps of your perfume bottles were all off and littered on the floor of your bathroom. Someone had been in your dorm.

You didn’t have a roommate.

You called the police at midnight on Wednesday, and they showed up to your dorm to find you locked in the bathroom.  They chalked it up to a wild imagination. You were three floors up, after all. Nobody was breaking in. You were just a stupid, homesick college student.

Right?

Pah, it wasn’t like you were a senior, or anything. Or that you’d ever even cried wolf in the last three years of living alone. But yeah, sure, call it paranoia.

Three weeks later, there was a knock on your front door.

It startled you enough to send you on your ass. You stared at the door from the floor, and it loomed over you like a bad dream.

Your stalker had been your shadow for almost a month at that point. A gaze that burned into the back of your skull, even when there was no one around. You wanted them to keep their distance.

You stood like a whisper, careful not to make any noise as you tiptoed to the peephole of your door. This was it. There would finally be a face to your terror. Someone you could blame.

A weird combination of disappointment and relief washed over you when you saw two FBI agents instead. Your fear of it being your stalker morphed into a fear of the justice system. Had they come to laugh at you just as the police had?

When they knocked a second time, you opened the door.

They showed you their badges and introduced themselves. “Mind if we come in?” Agent Young asked. He had longer, brown hair and kind eyes. You couldn’t hold a gaze with him worth your life.

Strangers in your home, even authorities, made your hackles raise. What the helllllll was all you could think as you welcomed them into your tiny dorm as your legs shook.

A million questions raced around your head at once.

“Could we ask you about the death of your professor? Mr.Cleveland?”

Your heart plummeted and all hope died within you. Oh. This was about that whole freak-show. “What about it?” you said. Your feet shifted.

“Well, it’s said that you were there at the time of his death. Is that true?” Agent Scott asked. He was more intimidating—more rough around the edges—but you supposed he was just professional.

“Um. Uh, yeah. It…” the agents were watching you with intrigue, and you looked to the carpet. “It was horrible.” And it was. It was bloody and scary, and all your fault because you had just stood there—watched as the professor died right in front of you.

Upon seeing your haunted look, Agent Scott spoke a little gentler. “Did you see what happened?”

“I—yeah… I saw it all. He—he had been helping me with something. An essay. I was flunking and he suggested a one on one.” That had only been a week ago. Your grades had suffered as you juggled your classes.
When Mr.Cleveland died… you abandoned college altogether and let the dog whistle collect dust.

“I don’t know… he just…” started dying at your feet. You hadn’t even tried to pick up a phone. You just stood there, and you watched. Your breath picked up. “…he just—”

Agent Young’s voice was sympathetic. “He started coughing up blood?”

“Yeah. I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do. I kept thinking about…” the stalker, you thought. I couldn’t stop thinking about the stalker. “I froze and, a-and I just watched—”

“Easy, easy. It’s okay. We just need to know the details,” Agent Scott said.

You paused, then. Something didn’t add up. “Wait… why is the FBI interested in a guy that died of a lung disease?” When the agents exchanged glances, you squinted at them, your anxiety briefly replaced with confusion.

“We don’t think it was, erm, lung disease,” Agent Scott said. “We think he might have been…” He searched for the word a little too long for your liking. “…uh, poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” you yelped. “Who could have… oh god, that makes me a suspect, doesn’t it?”

“Unfortunately.”

Your stomach sank, and that anxiety returned. “You guys have to know I wouldn't—I would never—”

“If we thought it was you, you would be in custody,” Agent Scott informed you curtly.

Agent Young frowned at his partner as if to say not helping and then turned back to you. “We just want to know what you saw that day. Anything weird? Strange noises? Smells?” He narrowed his eyes. “Is there anyone you know who would want to kill Mr.Cleveland?”

This was your chance to tell them about your stalker. If there was anyone who could help you, it was the FBI.

Yet you clammed up.  "No, not really,“ you blurted. "Nobody I can think of, honest. Not to be rude, but I have finals tomorrow. Could you… leave?”

Who were you kidding, your grades had dropped so low lately that even finals wouldn’t save you. But they didn’t know that.

…probably.

They offered you a trained smile that didn’t reach the eyes. “Of course. We’ll get out of your hair. If you think of anything else, here’s our card.” And with that they left the room.

The tightness in your chest did not ease.

///

That night, you had dreams of monsters and of evil people that could poison someone and smile. You dreamed of your stalker, and them laughing as you choked on your own blood.

You woke up in a cold sweat, eyes snapping open to the glow of an agape window. It was shut when you fell asleep, but it was open now, blowing in a breeze that chilled your blood.

Your dog whistle was gone.

It was a fear like no other. Your gut was screaming at you to launch for the phone. You did, automatically dialling the number on the business card that laid discarded on the other end of the room. You had memorized it after hours of staring at the numbers, debating whether or not to call them, then ultimately deciding not to with anxiety gnawing away at you.

They answered it on the second ring.

“Hello?” said a gruff voice. Agent Scott.

“I remembered something,” you blurted. “You-you said to call… if I thought of something…” You trailed off when you saw the clock. “Oh god, it’s three in the morning. Maybe this can… this can… this can wait…” It couldn’t wait.

“No, wait. What is it? Might be important if it’s got you up at three in the morning. Unless it’s just finals?”

You shook your head and then realized he couldn’t hear that. “Not finals. Someone’s been stalking me for the past week. I thought… maybe, I was paranoid. I was… constantly told that I was paranoid. But someone was in here while I was asleep. And might… might still be close.”

“Okay, you got a knife?”

“A knife?” You squeaked.

“Yeah. A knife. To defend yourself.”

“Oh. Right. Right, okay. Uh. Well, uh, I have a paring knife?”

“You have… a paring knife,” he repeated.

“Um, yeah? Is that okay? The dorms have rules against big knives. For safety reasons. It’s a silver p—”

“Silver? Okay, you know what? That’s fine. That’s good. Use that. Is it sharp?”

“Sharp enough, I hope.” You ran over to your cabinet, pulling out the knife and holding it to your chest. Your ragged breaths were loud in your ears. “Now what?”

“Well,” he said, and you could hear an engine starting in the background. “We should be there in a few minutes. Stay on the phone, you hear me?”

“I—should I have called 911? This has never happened to me—”

“You’re doing fine. Now, what made you so sure that someone had been in your room?”

“Well, the open window. I live up a few floors. There is no way they could have opened it unless—”

“Unless someone had been in your room. Alright. Just sit tight, okay? Don’t hang up.”

“O-okay.” The agents will be here soon. They will help me. You had the knife and phone held so close to your chest and tight in your fist that your knuckles were white.

I will not die.

Without warning, you choked. It was wet, coppery, and lukewarm on your tongue. You clawed at your neck for air. You fell to your knees. The phone clattered on the wooden floor’; it buzzed with muffled shouting, but you couldn’t pick it up, nor could you answer.

Just then, a massive shadow crawled in from your window, and it grunted like an animal. You barely had enough strength to look at him as trails of red spit hung from your face.

The man had claws. The man had claws. The man—the thing, had—for the love of God, inch long claws.

Down the hallway, there was a muffling of running feet. They would be too late. You realized then: you were probably going to die. You were no fair match.

You could feel the monster’s breath on your neck when the beast abruptly fell down like a sack of potatoes, howling and twisting.

Blindly, you stabbed it in the chest with all your strength, twisting the blade and then collapsing once again into a fit of retching.

The agents burst into the room.

But instead of moving to help you, they tore the room apart in search of something. You couldn’t help but sob in despair. Why weren’t they helping you?

But when Agent Scott whipped out a little bag from your drawer and lit it on fire, the choking miraculously ceased.

You melted into the floor to catch your breath again. For a minute everyone just breathed. You really appreciated the minor break.

Agent Young helped you up, closely inspecting your heavy, slightly bloody, zoned-out face, and decided you were okay.

You licked your lips, still not processing any part of the last hour. “What,” you said, “just happened.”

The agents exchanged looks.

You looked at them. Really looked at them. “You’re not FBI, are you?”

Agent Scott shrugged at his partner. “You gonna give her the talk, Sammy, or should I?”

///

“Were-witches,” you deadpanned. Monsters, hunters, hex bags, and were-witches.

“Yep,” Agent Scott—or Dean Winchester, you were now learning—said. “He probably got a whiff of you covered in dog hair or something. You’re lucky we got here in time. The pervert was, I kid you not, jellifying human hearts with dark magic. Like, alive. And then he’d make you regurgitate—” He caught the hard look from Agent Young—Sam—and shut up. “But, yeah. Were-witches.”

You frowned. “I can accept witches and werewolves, but… were-witches? For real?”

“Trust me, we didn’t know they existed either,” Sam informed you.

Dean laughed to himself. “Hey Sammy, should we call him a son of a witch or a son of a bi—” His smile faltered with both Sam and your glaring. “Get it? Witch jokes? Dog jokes? Sheesh, okay, you guys are seriously no fun.”

Sam sighed. “We should probably take the, um, dead werewitch, out of here.”

You followed his eyes to the heap of fur on your floor. Seeing your stalker dead was a major weight off your shoulders. It was such a relief that you felt high.

Sam was still talking. “—and you have finals?”

You sobered. “Right. Those.” Like you would do anything except bomb them.

Sam must have known the look. “You haven’t studied, have you? At all.”

Shaking your head, you slumped into the mattress. “Nope. This stalker thing screwed me up big time. There’s just no way.” You sighed. Sam’s dark look made you squint at him. “What?”

“I just, uh, know the feeling,” Sam said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “I got a free ride to law school before the hunting life took me away. I was already a hunter, I didn’t have a choice. But you still do. You can still have that life you want.” He tapped the card, still on the desk from his last visit. “Stay out of trouble and call us whenever. Especially if it’s three in the morning.”

Right then, you noticed the dog whistle was back, as if it had never left.
Realization hit you like a brick to the head. “You did that! You blew the whistle.”

“Yeah, well, I knew it was a werewolf. So I took a gamble and… borrowed it. Guess I didn’t think you’d miss it—it was pretty dusty.”

“You stole my whistle!”

“Hey, no, I borrowed it—”

“You gave me a heart attack! I thought the werewitch had stolen it! That’s what set me off and made me call you—not the window!”

Dean cracked a smile. “Hey, it saved you, though, yeah? If I hadn’t taken it, who’s to say I could have saved your damsel ass?”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean said automatically.

You blinked in surprise at the speed of his reply.

His eyes widened. “Sorry. That's… uh, Sam usually says that and I respond with…”

You laughed. Really laughed. You doubled over, struggling to breathe for the second time today, but this time it was welcome. The Winchesters inevitably joined in as you howled. You wiped away your tears of laughter, occasionally breaking into a smaller fit.

“You good?” Dean asked, grinning,

You sighed, the hysteria wearing off. “God, it wasn’t even that funny! You just caught me by surprise. Thanks, though. For saving me, and all.”

Dean smiled, patting you on the back. “No problem, kid.”

You settled into a comfortable silence. You were still trying to calm down as they watched you with looks of fondness.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” Sam asked.

You knew what he meant: were you going to be able to sleep alone? And honestly, you had a feeling you would sleep like a baby tonight. However, you had no purpose staying here anymore. “Would I be stepping too far if I asked to come with you? Just for the night.”

“Of course.”

joshuascale:

It’s always been you and me

anon request: Hi! Since your requests are open can you write a dean x daughter fic. So basically the daughter is a teen and it’s a bunch of sweet moments all from the daughters childhood like from the first time he held her, her being a kid, her getting good grades in school and it finally leads up to her coming out as Bisexual to her dad? (He tells her that he loves her no matter what?) And she has like really long luscious hair but since she’s coming out as bi she really wants to cut her hair and get a pixie cause well it represents her better and she asks dean if she can get a haircut and she does and he tells her that he’s proud of her and that she looks gorgeous All this is really close to me and I hope you write it:) Sorry if it’s detailed! Byeeeee❤

Word Count: 1,821

A/N: Hey y’all. Thanks for the requests! And bearing with me and this account. Hope you enjoy! (also I thought a good song to listen to for this fic is Little Wonders by Rob Thomas)

The day Y/n Winchester was born, was the day Dean Winchester’s life changed forever. 

It wasn’t something Dean had in mind, having a kid of his own, but holding his little girl for the first time swaddled in a little pink blanket and looking into her hazel eyes was something so special and indescribable. His heart was filled with immediate love, and he knew from that day on he was going to do everything in his power to keep her safe.

“Y/n, meet your uncle Sammy.” Dean smiled as he handed the bundled up infant to his little brother.

“She’s beautiful, Dean.” Sam smiled down at his niece. 

Dean smiled too, but he had a lot of thoughts on his mind. He had never felt a love like this in his entire life. He was incredibly content, but also terrified. Thinking about the life he and his brother had lived so far, how was he going to raise a kid with all the chaos and hunting? It was a constant back and forth for a while, but she was here, and it was real. He knew he had to protect her and try his best to make her feel safe and loved. 

…………………

“Daddy!” Y/n yelled out as she ran up to her dad who was waiting outside the elementary school.

“Hey! There she is. How was your day?”

“Good. Look what I made today.” Y/n held up a picture she painted in art class, excited to show it off to her dad.

“Woah, since when did you become a little artist? This is going up on the fridge.”

“My teacher said it was very creative.”

“She is correct, c’mon lets get back home, uncle Sammy is waiting.” Dean said as he guided Y/n to the impala, opening the back door to let her scoot in. 

“All buckled?” Dean asked, leaning over the front seat.

“Yes!”

………………..

Dean sat in the school bleachers on the football field, watching his daughter play in her soccer game. It was such a beautiful sunny day, there weren’t any hunts that him and his brother were working on so they took the opportunity to support their little girl.

Y/n ran across the field with her team, juggling the ball between her feet as she passed her opponents. 

“Let’s go Y/n!!” Dean shouted.

The ball got passed back and forth between her and her teammates. It came back to her as she got closer to the goal, taking her chance as she had a clear shot. With one swift kick, the ball flew right into the goal, scoring the final point making her team the winning team. 
All the girls jumped up and down, cheering together in a group. 

“Yes! We did it!” Y/n said with a smile brighter than the sun. She glanced over to the crowd to see her dad and uncle standing up, cheering and clapping with the rest of the parents.

“WOOOOO!”

She smiled and waved at them both, running over to celebrate.

……………….

Y/n walked through the door after a long day at school. Sam and Dean were sat down at the table, they looked serious.

“Hi? What’s going on?” She asked, nervous as to what they were gonna say. 

“We got your report card.” Sam announced.

Y/n sighed. She had totally forgotten that report cards were sent out that day, not remembering how her grades were looking.

“I-”

“It looks great! Sweetie, you’re nearly an A student, I’m so proud of you!” Dean smiled, showing her the paper.

“Wait really?!”

“Yeah really! This is better than I ever did. How’d you get so smart?” Dean chuckled.

“Must get it from Sammy.” She laughed with them.

“You, ma’m, deserve something. Go ahead and chose whatever you want for dinner, and desert.”

“Yay! Can we have burgers and ice cream?”

“Of course, I don’t know who would say no to that.” 

“Maybe uncle Sammy if he’s craving some rabbit food.” Y/n joked.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I think I can enjoy burgers with you guys. I feel attacked.”

…………………

It wasn’t long before Y/n found out what Sam and Dean really did for a living. Well, not so much a living, but their actual job they did. It was obviously a shocking surprise that took a while for her to get used to, but she adjusted after time passed.

Dean was very strict about Y/n being involved in the hunting life. She had lived a pretty normal life outside of what the two of them did. He was always fearing the worst when it came to Y/n and having the Winchester name. 
She wasn’t well known yet in the hunting community and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t want any monsters using her against them. 

Y/n however had other desires. She of course looked up to her dad, and it was hard for her to be excluded from that. 

“Dad? Can I ask you something?” She asked nervously.

“What’s up?”

“When am I gonna be able to hunt with you and uncle Sam?”

Dean sighed, it wasn’t the first time she had asked, but she was only 13. It was always a frustrating conversation, having to put her down and tell her she couldn’t.

“Sweetheart, you know how I feel about you being involved in all of this. It’s very dangerous. I don’t want anything to happen to you, I’d never be able to forgive myself if it did.”

“I know dad, but I could train and get really good. I wouldn’t slow you guys down and I’d listen to everything you’d want me to do.” Y/n said desperately.

“I appreciate it, I really do. It’s just not something we can risk right now, I’m sorry.”

………………..

High school became hell for Y/n. It was so much different from middle school, and she wasn’t expecting it to be that way. She tried her best to make friends and fit in but it always felt like everything was going against her. From that point on, she always felt that something was different about her. 

It wasn’t until she was 17 that she figured out part of herself, specifically her sexuality. It was the first time she was sure of something. Y/n was really thankful she had a few friends to talk to about it.

“Guys, I don’t know. I want to tell him but I have no idea how he is going to react. I feel like it’s something he wouldn’t know how to deal with. What if he doesn’t love me because of it?”

“Y/n, no offense, but you sound crazy. I mean, I understand your worries, but it’s better if you just tell your dad. After all, you guys are like really close, right?” 

“Yeah, I just don’t think he would be expecting me to share that with him.”

“I know it’s a scary thing, but you should tell him. It would get it off your chest. No matter what, this is something you’re sure of, and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

“I think I’ll tell him later this week, he’s working a lot this week, I’d rather him not have anything else on his mind.”

“You’ll do great. You got this! And just know that we’ll always be here to support you.”

“Thanks guys, that means a lot.”

The thought of coming out as bisexual was terrifying, her dad was one of the most important people in her life. If he didn’t accept her, she would be crushed.
Y/n waited until Dean got home from his hunt with Sam to tell him.

“We’re home!” Sam announced as the two men descended down the bunker stairs. 

“Hey!” Y/n said with a little shakiness in her voice. She had been pacing all evening, thinking about what she was going to say, thinking about what Dean would say.

The boys set their bags down on the table, starting to unpack and discuss how the hunt went, until Y/n chimed in.

“Hey dad, could I talk to you for a sec…. privately?”

The two brothers exchanged looks, Sam giving Dean an understanding look as he casually left the room. 

“What did you need to talk to me about?”

“Can we sit down?” Y/n asked. 

Dean pulled up a chair and joined her. Y/n sat there for a minute, fidgeting her hands, biting the inside of her lip.

“Hey, whatever it is you need to tell me, don’t worry about it. That’s what I’m here for, kiddo.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay, um. Just don’t freak out.”

“What…. are you pregnant?!”

“No! no, nothing like that… um, I’m bisexual.” Y/n just said it. Looking up at her dad with a worried expression, waiting for a response.

Dean had visibly relaxed and thought for a moment. “Okay. I’m glad you’re telling me.”

“Are you okay with that? You don’t like… hate me or anything now?”

“What? No, of course not. Sweetheart, I want you to be comfortable with yourself, you shouldn’t worry about what I think about it, and I don’t hate you. You’re my daughter, I want you to love yourself not matter what. And if you feel a certain way about your sexuality, embrace it. It doesn’t make you any different of a person. I totally accept that, one hundred percent.”

Y/n released the tension in her muscles, not expecting all of that to be said, but her heart was filled with so much joy hearing that from her dad. 

“You really think so? You’re okay with it?” 

“Of course. Again, I love you no matter what, and nothing will ever change that.” Dean smiled.

“I love you dad.”

“I love you too Y/n”

………………..

A month had passed since Y/n came out as bisexual. She had been thinking about getting her hair cut short ever since. She had long hair her whole life, and cutting it was something she wanted to do, she thought it would be so freeing. 

Dean had obviously agreed to let her get a haircut. She didn’t mention how short she wanted to go, she wanted to do it regardless of what anyone thought. She knew it would be a different surprise to her dad and uncle, but she didn’t care. This was something that she knew she wanted, it would match her inner self image that she had been dreaming about since she knew she was bisexual. 

Later that day, Y/n came down the bunker stairs, brushing the short bangs of her newly fresh pixie cut off her forehead.

“Hi.” She announced, causing both boys heads to turn. 

“Wow!” Both said in unison.

“So… does it look okay?” Y/n questioned.

Dean walked over to his daughter, placing his hands on her shoulders. “It looks beautiful, Y/n. Do you like it?”

“Yes, I really do.”

“Good, that’s all that matters. I’m proud of you.” Dean smiled as he brought Y/n in for a hug.

Requests are open!
Taglist:

@jackjackljaqui​@hunting-the-grievers@susan-is-in-the-house@flirtyonsie@mersuperwholocked-lowlife@justsomedreaming

anon request: Hi! I love your writing, thank you for your hard work and time you put into these fics! Anyways, I was wondering if I could request a demon!dean x sister scenario, where dean tries to hurt them, along with Sam. Maybe some protective/defending Sam? Scared y/n? The reader would likely be in their pre/early teen years. A lot of angst, please (hahaha), and maybe a comforting ending between reader and Sam? Sorry if that is a lot, thank you so much!!! :D

Warnings: physical violence, angst

Word Count: 1,498

A/N: wow look at me coming out with 2 new fics back to back (don’t expect anything lmao) but I’ve had a spark to write a little and some free time on my hands. Hope y’all enjoy this short fic! (not my gif)

Y/n fled down the the hallways of the bunker like she was flying. She never thought she’d be running from her own brother, Dean. 

Except, this wasn’t her brother. Dean was a full blown demon at the moment.

When Sam found out, he made sure to make Y/n aware of the situation, even though it was scary. The three of them hadn’t lived in the bunker for long, Y/n in a way was still adjusting. Now that they had this issue on their hands, Sam had tried to be extra careful when going out and leaving Y/n, most of the time having Cas stay to keep watch.

Cas wasn’t here this time, and neither was Sam. 
And now, she was alone in the bunker with a demon, who was wearing her oldest brother as a costume. 

“Can’t run forever, Y/n/n!” Dean chuckled sarcastically, walking slowly in the direction Y/n ran. 

Turning another corner, Y/n slipped into the nearest room which was the dungeon of the bunker. She hid behind a few shelves in the corner, trying her best to keep her breathing quiet, terrified of what might happen if Sam didn’t come back in time. 

Dean’s footsteps echoed louder as they got closer to the dungeon door. He kicked the door open, making Y/n jump at the sound. 

“Lets make this easier for all of us, just c’mon out, we’ll talk.” Dean paced around the room, looking to either side.

Y/n clutched her knees to her chest, trying to remain as quiet and still as possible. 
Dean was a demon though, and he already knew where to look. He pushed one of the shelves aside, Y/n jumped in fear and tried to run past Dean, but he was too fast and strong.

He grabbed Y/n by the arm, pulling her back with most of his force. She was dragged all the way to main room of the bunker. 

“Dean! Let go.” Y/n whimpered as she struggled against his grip.

“Now, why would I ever do that.” Dean said with such sarcasm. 

“This isn’t you!”

“You’re right, this isn’t Dean. I’m glad you realize that. I think he’s going to enjoy this a lot more than you think.” Dean’s voice announced as he pulled his fist back, striking a punch at Y/n.

Y/n groaned and sat up after getting knocked back, she led her hand up to the side of her cheek which felt warm from the sting that flowed through out. Looking up at Dean, she gasped and felt out of breath as it hit her that her brother had just been physically violent with her…

Although it wasn’t him, as immediately after she made eye contact, all that was seen was black staring right back at her. Y/n felt like she was now staring at a shell of who her brother used to be. It was her alone with a demon, and that was it, she thought. 

As he kneeled down to do more damage, she tried to block his hands. All she felt next was her wrist being practically crushed in his grip, letting out screams and hoping something or someone would come stop him.

“DEAN!”

A shout came from behind the two.

Demon Dean and Y/n turned to see Sam standing at the top of the stairs. Y/n let out a small breath, relieved to see her other brother who had a demon blade in his hand. 

“Get off of her… Now.” Sam growled as he walked towards Dean.

Dean stood up and turned to face Sam who was boiling with anger. Y/n took to the distraction and sat up, trying her best to scoot towards the wall, and away from Dean. Crawling over a corner in the library and sitting down, she grasped her pained wrist.

“Hiya Sammy.” Dean snarled before throwing Sam across the room with only a gesture. 

Sam fell against the wooded floor, realizing he dropped the blade. Looking around for it, he looked up to see Dean running at him, clutching what he was looking for. 
Sam jumped and grabbed the wrist holding the blade with one hand, and pulled Dean to the ground with the other. The two men thudded on the ground in front of Y/n who was fearful of what was going to happen, as she knew there wasn’t much else she could do.
At the time, she didn’t realize it but while in panic mode, she started silently calling for Cas.

Dean dropped the blade in the process and resorted to his fists. Sam wasn’t getting much damage in, and was starting to feel his muscles get tired. 

“I’ve been waiting for this day to come, Winchesters.” The demon smiled.

Just before he could make his next move. A gust of wind came upon the room revealing the angel Castiel.

While Dean turned away for a moment to look at Cas, Y/n saw an opportunity, reaching out with her free hand and pushing the blade towards Sam.
He reached out and gripped the blade behind Dean’s back.

“Not soon enough.” Sam said before plunging the blade into the demon’s vessel. 

Dean toppled over onto the floor, letting out retched screaming along with black smoke that eventually dissolved into thin air. Dean sat up, confused and trying to catch his breath in the process. 

Y/n erupted into tears, drawing everyones attention, especially Dean’s. 
Sam raced over and bent down to his little sisters level, putting an arm around her like a shield from harm. 

Sam looked up at Cas and Dean, there was a lot to deal with now. Dean was back to normal, but what he did as a demon could not be erased. Sam knew it wasn’t his fault, but the damage was done and he couldn’t bear to see his little sister so hurt. 

“Cas, could you give us some space.” Sam said with urgency in his voice. He found it difficult to even look at his brother right now. Cas replied with placing a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder, guiding him out of the room. It was going to be a lot for everyone to heal.

………………..

Sam gave Y/n a chance to breath and calm down now that Dean wasn’t in the room. “Are you okay, did he hurt you?” Sam asked before looking over her and noticing the gash under her eye which was slightly swollen, making him frown with guilt. He wasn’t there to protect his sister.

“My arm” was all Y/n could accumulate before showing Sam the gigantic bruise that was forming around her wrist. 

“Oh, honey that doesn’t look good.” Sam said as he examined her wrist which felt abnormal. Y/n winced as he moved it around to look at it. 

“I wanna go lay down.” She said, feeling unsafe out in the open at the moment. 

Sam nodded and lifted her into his arms, he entered his bedroom and set Y/n down on the bed. “I’m gonna go get Cas so he can heal your wrist. I promise I’ll be right back.” 

Y/n felt her body shaking as she kept her eyes on the door, waiting for Sam to return with Cas, and hopefully not Dean. She knew he was himself again, but it was still traumatizing. She needed time to calm down.

Cas came into the room with a worried expression. “How are you feeling?”

“Where’s Sam?” She asked nervously.

“He’s in the kitchen, talking to Dean.” Cas let out a breath, changing the subject. “Can I see your arm…” 

As Y/n lifted it up as best she could, Cas reached out his hands and put them both over her arm. Light started to shine through the angels fingertips, casting a light over the injured area. Y/n felt a slight crack before she was able to wiggle her hand and fingers without any pain.

“Thank you, Cas.” Y/n said as enthusiastic as possible, but failing. “Is he going to be okay at least?” 

“Yes, he’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.” Cas promised. 

Sam popped in the doorway. “Hey, is everything good?”

“Yes, um… I’ll give you two some time.” Cas and Sam exchanged looks before switching places. Sitting down, Sam tried to read Y/n’s face.

“Y’know, he feels awful about what happened.” Sam broke the silence. “I know it might take time, but he wants to talk and apologize.”

Y/n nodded, not saying anything in response. She could help but let a few tears slip, replaying the images of what happened before Sam got there.

Sam scooted closer and embraced Y/n into a protective hug. It wasn’t long before she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep. He knew she needed a night to make her feel safe again. Sam didn’t want to leave, or bring her back to her room. So he ended up adjusting the blankets so that Y/n had some warmth covering her before shutting off the lights. 

“Love you sis.” Sam whispered, placing a kiss on her forehead and falling asleep.

Requests are open

Tags:

@jackjackljaqui​@hunting-the-grievers@susan-is-in-the-house@flirtyonsie@mersuperwholocked-lowlife@justsomedreaming

anon asked: May I request a one shot with sister!reader (who is in their teens) and they are not doing to well and Sam and Dean pretty much ground her and then she throws herself into her work and now has straight A’s but she is so exhausted that she’s out of it and really woozy/swaying (pretty much, they’re asleep standing up) idk you ignore this lmao

Word Count: 1,130

A/N: hey guys! I’ve missed all of you so much! Finally got to writing a request :) I’m still somewhat active on here but just not constant. I’ve been getting my degree which is why I’m not writing as often but thank you all for the support regardless ❤️ (not my gif)

All it felt like most of the time for Y/n was work, work, and more work. Now that it was her senior year, grades were a huge focus while also trying to save money for the future. It felt like Y/n had created a life for herself. At the same time, she was also in the process of finding herself, trying to be more than just the third hunting Winchester sibling, and she was doing a pretty good job at it. Except, she was so desperate to be in good spirits, that she often ignored her negative thoughts and emotions. Suppressing the way she really felt and hiding her struggles. 

Since becoming a teenager, Sam & Dean, the only parental figures in Y/n’s life started to become a little harder on her. Dean couldn’t help taking the role John used to have on the boys when they were younger, he wasn’t as harsh and did not go as far as John did with some situations, but he definitely took on some traits naturally. Sam was more calm and tried his best to do what was best for Y/n, so it was a good balance. 
Although, sometimes when Sam & Dean get wrapped up in a case or other things to do with the paranormal, they tend to not pay attention to everyday things like Y/n’s school, job, or other things in her life.

A few weeks ago, Y/n and Dean got into a huge argument about her future. It got pretty heated to the point where Dean was almost too pissed to keep going, so he cut it off short.

“You know what, you’re grounded… for a month.” Was all he said before grabbing another beer from the table and popping the cap off. 

Y/n looked at Sam for some guidance. Normally he was on her side for things having to do with school, but this time he had to agree with Dean. Y/n had slacked on a few assignments and explained it was because of a hunting case all three of them were working on.
Sam just let out a shrug and a “I’m sorry kiddo” face,

“This is bullshit! You’re the one that told me to focus on the case we were doing so I missed a week of work!” Y/n pointed at Dean “You know I get good grades besides this one instance.”

“Oh yeah, your report card from this past semester says otherwise.” Dean snarked.

“You know, a few years ago, you didn’t want to have anything to do with me going to school, you didn’t give two shits! And if you think you’re gonna ground me, remember I’m almost 18.”

After that night, Y/n decided she was tired of getting shit from her brothers constantly. She decided to do her work that she needed to get done for school, and she got a job. She wanted an excuse to get out of the bunker on a weekly basis and to make some money. She also thought the less hunts she went on for the time being, the less yelling would happen… hopefully. 

………………..

“I’m back!” Y/n announced as she entered the bunker. 

“Hey kiddo- woah, you look exhausted.” Sam half chuckled.

“Thanks for noticing.” Y/n fake smiled as she turned to go to her room. 

“Wait, c’mere a minute I wanna talk.” Sam pleaded.

Y/n really was not in the mood to talk. She had just worked an 8 hour shift and really needed to shower and eat something so she could go to bed. Dragging her feet over to where Sam & Dean were sitting, she dropped her bag next to her and stood at the end of the table. 

“Hey, we just wanted to say we’re really proud of you.” Sam said holding up a report card with a smile. 

It was around 3 months later and Y/n had been consistent with her grades, enough to where the boys noticed.

“Thanks.” Y/n said in a monotone voice, barely paying attention to how content her brothers were.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, confused.

“Nothing, just had a long day.” She mumbled. Starting to sway slowly back and forth with her eyes closed.

Sam was going to continue to talk when he stopped and looked at Y/n with Dean, noticing something was off.

“Y/n?” Sam tried getting her attention before she started to lean over completely to where she was falling.

Eyes grew wide as he jumped out of his seat, almost falling over himself as he caught Y/n in his arms, setting her down in his lap. 

“Hey, wake up Y/n/n.” Sam held her face, pressing a finger to her neck.

“Is she breathing?” Dean asked as he hovered over the two of them.

“Yeah, I think she just passed out.” Sam huffed, adjusting you to a more comfortable position.

………………..

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open minutes later, feeling groggy and sick.
Noticing she had a cold and damp towel on her head, she opened her eyes more, giving a confused expression at her brothers who were looking down at her.

“What the- what are we doing on the ground?” Y/n mumbled.

“Take it easy.” Dean said, holding a hand to her head, brushing her hair out of her face.

“You okay?” Sam asked, giving Y/n a minute to adjust.

“Yeah.” 

“Somethings gotta be bothering you. We just watched you pass out mid sentence.” Dean said.

“I’m sorry….” Y/n’s voice broke sounding raspy.

“Sorry about what?” Sam asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“Nevermind, I don’t know.”

“Baby, tell us.” Sam said in a hushed tone.

“I just thought that if I proved to you guys I could do good in school and work, you would stop being super hard on me… and start treating me like more of an adult. I thought I was already doing good but I wanted to do good enough for you.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other with sad and concern. 

Sam took a deep breath. “Look, Y/n. I’m sorry if we were being too much, we just wanted you to realize the importance of certain things not realizing ourselves that you already work really hard to do your best, I know it can be a lot for you at times, especially being your age and dealing with all this stuff.”

“Sam… no I’m-”

“Y/n, no we’re sorry. Sam & I are proud of you, always.” Dean smiled.

“We’ll do better. Remember, you can always come talk to us about anything.” Sam added, placing a comforting hand on Y/n’s shoulder.

She sat up more and looked at both her brothers with a soft smile. “Thanks, that really means a lot guys…”

“Course, you’re family Y/n/n.” Dean let out a small laugh, helping Y/n stand up. 

“C’mon you should get some rest”

Requests are open

Tags:

@jackjackljaqui​@hunting-the-grievers@susan-is-in-the-house@flirtyonsie@mersuperwholocked-lowlife@justsomedreaming

Anon asked: I have read every single one of your sister!reader fics, and they are AMAZING, just for the record. Anyhoo, I was just curious if you could write one where the reader has a bad panic attack and Sam is like there to talk her through it and stuff. (obviously like sister/brother relationship) I have them really badly and stuff. And I only have one person who is able to touch me during them. And sometimes I wish that it was Sam. Also I love it when he calls her bug, so if you could add that in there to that would be great. No pressure or anything whatsoever. If you don’t want to do this, that is completely fine with me. Sending love

Pairings: sister!winchester

Word Count: 1,105

A/N: Hey guys. Thanks for all the likes and support given to this blog. I am very proud of this blog and where it’s gone, even though I am not active all the time on here, it makes me happy to see that you guys still like to read my stories. I really appreciate it!! I’ve been struggling with my mental health a lot over the past couple of months and just had a little spark of motivation to write. I really miss you all, hope you enjoy this fic. 

Y/n Winchester. The great Sam and Dean Winchesters little sis, as most people knew her. She was special, no one could deny that. Y/n had her own spark, with confidence like her brother Dean, and crazy smarts like Sam- she was almost unstoppable. Except, there was one thing that held her back… her anxiety. 

It wasn’t something that Y/n felt embarrassed about, she just didn’t feel the need to share it. Sam and Dean were aware of Y/n’s anxiety, although, Dean didn’t know the extent of it and neither did Sam for a while. 
That was until her anxiety started to worsen, hunting didn’t exactly ease her nerves.

Y/n started having panic episodes. She was afraid of making a scene in front of someone and decided to keep them to herself as much as possible. One day, Sam happened to pass by Y/n’s room in the bunker as an episode was occurring. He was able to talk her through it and calm her down. Ever since that day, Sam has been the only one that has been able to help Y/n’s mind ease off of whatever she was worrying about. 

Something about the way he looked, as if nothing bad was going to happen, to try not to worry her further. The calming tone he spoke in as he used gentle words. Sam knew his little sister more than she knew herself sometimes. He decided to not say anything to Dean, not wanting him to be overbearing and worried all the time. 

………………..

It was a rough few weeks for all three of the WInchester’s. There had been hunt after hunt, tons of locations to drive to, more motels, and some bad guys along the way.

While investigating one of the empty buildings in hopes of finding a lead, the three got into a scuffle with a few of the suspects. They noticed Y/n along for the hunt and started to taunt, trying to scare her. Sam and Dean dealt with it, and the few other incidents after that. 
Y/n was starting to feel paranoid, like all of the bad guys were going to follow them. After all, there were a lot of people that the Winchester’s had pissed off this week, even if they were just doing their jobs. 

Dean pulled the impala up to the bunker garage, letting out an exhale. Everyone was exhausted and relieved to finally be home. Y/n grabbed her duffel bag and walked straight to her room without saying a word.

“She must be tired.” Dean huffed with a smirk, motioning to Sam.

Sam glanced over and proceeded to help unload the car. “I’m gonna go see if Y/n wants dinner. You hungry?” Dean asked as he set down the last of the bags.

“I’ll just make myself something.” Sam said as he retreated to the kitchen. 

Dean sighed and proceeded to walk to Y/n’s room. He approached the open doorframe to see Y/n pacing her room.

“Hey, uh, what are you doing?” Dean asked.

“Just unpacking.” Y/n responded quickly, resting a hand on her bag.

“You’re not actually putting anything away…” Dean pointed out.

“What do you want.” She asked in an annoyed tone.

“Do you want me to make some food?” 

“No, I’m okay.” Y/n said as she walked over to her desk.

“You look a little startled, are you sure you’re okay?” Dean noticed.

“Why are you still here?!” Y/n blurted out. “I mean, uh, sorry I- just- can you leave.”

“Y/n/n, what’s wrong? You can tell me.” Dean sympathized as he reached a loving arm out, resting it on her shoulder. 

“No! Dean… just leave me alone. Please get out.” Y/n said shakily.

“Y/n-”

“Just get out Dean, I’ll come out later.” Y/n said as Dean backed up, shutting the door behind him.

Dean stood outside her bedroom door, hearing Y/n start to cry and breath heavy, in a hushed tone. 
He didn’t know what else to do, walking over to the kitchen where Sam was making a sandwich.

“Dude, you need to go talk to your sister.” Dean walked in.

“Why, what’s wrong?” Sam asked, concerned.

“I don’t know what I did, but she told me to get out and now she’s crying….” Dean blurted out in a stressed voice.

“Dean, what the hell did you do?” Sam raised his voice, looking agitated. 

“Again, nothing. She was pacing and acting weird.” He said.

Sam had a look of realization on his face. “She’s probably anxious about something… I’ll be right back.”

Dean stood in the kitchen looking frazzled as Sam rushed down the halls to your room. 
He softly knocked on the door, hoping to get a response while hearing some shuffling.

“What!” 

“Can I come in?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

Sam opened the door calmly to see Y/n sitting on the floor against the wall in distress.

“Y/n/n, are you okay?” Sam asked in a soft tone.

“I’m sorry… It’s happening again, I tried to control it but I can’t stop thinking about…”

“About what?”

“That one guy from apartment that said he knew where we lived. He said he’d break in and kill you guys.” Y/n’s voice broke. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Sam soothed as he placed his hands on your shoulders, squeezing them tightly.
“Most of those threats are just meant for scare. If someone did manage to find the bunker, they’d have a very tough time trying to get in. Dean and I aren’t letting anyone dangerous through that door, you are safe.”

Y/n slowly comprehended Sam’s words and took a few deep breaths, easing her shaking form and heavy breathing. 

“You okay, bug?” Sam looked over her.

“Yeah, I think I’m good.” She breathed out.

“I know things have been stressful lately, so if you ever need me, I’m here. Don’t be afraid to say something.” Sam reassured. 

“I’ve been trying to handle this myself, I hate having to worry you. But, I know you care.” Y/n said awkwardly, self consciously not wanting Sam to see her weak. Deep down, she knew how much Sam cared and that she could always turn to him for anything. 

“Just, thank you… It means a lot.” Y/n gave a half smile, trying not to make it a chick flick moment. She was more reserved with her feelings like Dean, she never liked any attention related to it. Sam respected the fact and didn’t make a big deal about it to Dean, but he made it known that he was there, and that is why Y/n gave him her trust. 

“Anytime, bug.” He said softly as he wrapped Y/n into a hug.

Requests Are Open

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@jackjackljaqui​@hunting-the-grievers@susan-is-in-the-house@flirtyonsie@mersuperwholocked-lowlife@justsomedreaming

anon asked: Hey! I love your work! Do you think you could do a sister!reader fic where Dean, Sam and Cas are away on a long hunt, and the reader (younger, maybe between 11-14) has a panic attack? Since her brothers nor Cas can help, Crowley shows up… Thank you!

Word Count: 1,762

A/N: I know panic attacks can be different for a lot of people, so I kind of just made the panic attack in this story how mine usually are. I also set this before the boys found the bunker since Crowley is still around. 
*Also not my gif*

“Hey, wake up…. Y/N c’mon wake up.” Sam said as he shook your sleeping form. 

You rolled over to your side and blinked your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the light shining in from the hallway.

“M’what?” You mumbled.

“Y/N, Cas called us. Dean and I have to leave to go help him, it’s important.”

“What’s going on?” You wondered, looking over at the clock on the nightstand to see that it was 2:30 in the morning. 

“We’ll call you and explain everything later, but we have to leave. We might be gone for a few days but I wanted to let you know.” Sam said frantically.

“Okay, call me in the morning.” You said, still half asleep and not really understanding what was going on. 

Sam nodded and shut the lights off as he and Dean gathered their things before leaving the motel room. You rolled to your other side and fell back asleep within minutes.

………………..

You woke up the next morning and sat up in bed, looking around, you were confused as to why Sam and Dean weren’t there. It took you a minute but you remembered Sam waking you up. Just as you were thinking about where the hell they went, your phone rang.

“Sam?”

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

“Uh, where are you guys and when are you coming back?” 

“Sorry for leaving in such a rush. Cas called us about some other angels that are going around taking people out. Normally he’d be able to handle this himself but they’re moving pretty fast.” Sam explained.

“When will you be back?”

“Not sure, but this one might take a few days. Maybe a week at worst, but we’ll keep you updated.”

“What about food?” You asked, glancing at the small motel kitchen. 

“Dean went on a supply run after you fell asleep last night, the fridge should be stocked. We wouldn’t leave you alone if we thought you couldn’t handle it.” Sam said.

“Okay, well, hurry back.” 

“We will. Gotta go, we’ll talk to you later.”
“Stay safe, Y/N/N.” You heard Dean say in the background.

………………..

It had been 4 days since the boys left and you were bored out of your mind. You had opened snack after snack, watched way too much tv, and even snuck two of Dean’s beers. You knew he would notice and be pissed off but you didn’t even care at the time. 

Just when you thought you would be fine by yourself, you weren’t. 

The paranoia started to set in, which happened often when the boys would leave on longer hunts and not take you with them. Sometimes, you were able to brush it off and be patient until they got back. Other times like this, it was like a nagging feeling of terrible thoughts that would set off a panic attack.

There was a string of bad thoughts that kept rushing through your head. Wondering if Sam and Dean would be okay, if they were going to make it back safely, or if they were already dead and you just didn’t know it yet. 

These thoughts sent you pacing back and forth around the motel room. You chewed your lip as you imagined Sam and Dean walking through the door with their bags, trying your best to calm yourself down. 

You sat down on the edge of the bed as you felt your breathing picking up, feeling so panicked and uncomfortable, being alone for longer than you were okay with. You wanted to call Sam and Dean to check in but you didn’t want to be a bother. Your brothers knew that you had occasional panic attacks, but they didn’t know the extent of them. It was also a little embarrassing, so you decided to keep it on the low. 

That’s when your phone rang, seeing it was Sam, you answered almost right away.

“Sammy?” You breathed out.

“Hey kiddo. What’s up?” Dean answered instead.

“Uh, hey…. nothing much…. Is Sam there?”

“Yeah, he just fell asleep in the passenger seat. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, just um…. when will you be back?”

“We just finished up actually. We were able to track down the last string of dickhead angels so were on our way back right now.”

“How long?” You asked a little too eagerly. 

“Should be there in about 4 hours, could be less…. You know how I drive.” Dean let out a chuckle. 

“Ok great, hurry back.” Was all you could think of saying before hanging up the phone. 

………………..

Sam stirred in his seat, waking up and turning to Dean to see his phone in his hand. “What are you doing with my phone?”

“Y/N called, she was just asking where we were.”

“Oh. How is she?”

“Good… sounded a little weird though.”

“What do you mean weird?”

“I dunno. She’s probably just getting impatient.”

Sam took a moment to think about how Dean worded that, realizing you might’ve been having an episode.

“No more stops tonight, let’s get back as soon as possible.”

“Why?”

“She might be panicking a little bit, we’ve been gone for almost a week.”

“She’ll be fine, she just needs to get used to being on her own.” Dean started being insensitive. 

“Dean, I don’t think you know how panic attacks work.”

“She doesn’t still have those, does she?”

“Yes, as far as I know she does, and depending on the person, they can get pretty bad.”

Dean didn’t say anything after that and continued to drive faster. 

………………..

You sat on the floor up against the motel bed and talked to yourself in your head, praying to Cas since your brothers were still a long ways away. You repeated the same message over and over, expecting to see Cas pop up in front of you, but it never happened.

You started to panic even more that you started to repeat your cry for help out loud, not to anyone directly, but in hopes of feeling like someone was listening. 

You weren’t expecting it but someone was listening. 

And that someone was Crowley.

Crowley appeared after minutes of you talking, it scared the shit out of you, making you spring up from where you were sitting. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You questioned.

“Well, someone is a little uneasy from what I heard.” He glanced back at you.

“Why are you even listening to me?”

“You clearly wanted someone to, and I was in the area.” Crowley said jokingly.

“Sam and Dean aren’t gonna like it when they see that you’re here.” You said as you backed up out of habit.

“Sam and Dean aren’t going to be here for a while now are they love? I might as well give you some sort of company.” He smirked, as he pulled out one of the kitchen chairs to sit down.

“Why are you acting nice?”

“Who said I was acting? The king of hell can’t do little Winchester a favor?”

“Why would you want to though, it’s pretty unlike you.”

“Let’s say I owe you and your brothers one, I can’t always be ruining things can I? That would just be bad for my reputation.” Crowley sassed.

You scoffed at his sarcastic remarks, then realizing that he did a good job of distracting you from how you were feeling.

“Thanks” you gave a small smile, accepting the nice gesture Crowley gave. 

“No need… Well, I guess my work here is done.” Crowley sighed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend.”

Before you could turn around to hear what Crowley was talking about, he was gone. Moments later, you heard a familiar car engine pull up in front of the motel room. 

Perfect timing.

You drew the curtains to reveal your brothers emerging from the car, with Cas already walking up to the door.

You let out a sigh of relief as you welcomed all three of them inside.

“Hello Y/N…..” Cas paused and looked around with suspicion growing on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I had a sense that one from the opposite side was lingering in this vicinity.”

“Okay, I literally understood none of that.”

“There was a demon here at some point. I’m sure of it.”

“Y/N, what’s he rambling about?” Dean asked as he hauled in the last of the things from the impala.

“Uh, I don’t know.” You lied.

Sam could see right through you face and knew something had happened. You didn’t look okay.

“Y/N, was there someone here? Did something try to hurt you?” Sam asked, grabbing Dean’s attention, stopping him from what he was doing.

“Well, Crowley…”

“Crowley!? Was he here?” Dean’s voice boomed.

“Dean, can you please not make a big deal…”

“Big deal!!?”

“Dean, dude seriously chill out. Just tell us what happened, Y/N.” Sam interrupted.

You told the three boys everything that happened. Sam immediately felt bad that he wasn’t there. Dean was worried that his little sister dealt with panic attacks this bad, but he still wasn’t happy that the king of hell just decided to pop in without warning. 

“Y/N/N, why didn’t you tell me over the phone?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t want you to worry. Plus, you were too far anyways.”

“Well next time that happens, you call us, no matter where we are. I promise, you mean more to us than our work, we’d drop everything, even if we were miles away just to get to you.” Sam explained.

“Yeah, what he said.” Dean chimed in.

“Wow, I love how much you care.” You joked.

“You know I love you Y/N/N….. but I’m gonna have to lay down some rules with Crowley, and one of them is no dropping in when I’m not here. I don’t trust that shady punk.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shrugged his arms, motioning for a hug which you gladly accepted.

“Nothing but chick flick moments over here. Get a room.” Dean scoffed.

“Shut up!”

“So, where is Crowley now?” Cas asked innocently.

“Were you even listening the whole time?” Sam asked confused.

“No, there is many things being said over angel radio.” 

“God dammit, Cas.” Dean said as he got up to grab a beer out of the fridge. “Who drank my beers?”

“Wasn’t me…” Sam shrugged. 

You knew you were in big trouble, forgetting about the choices you made earlier. So you slipped out the front door to let Dean cool down, but he had other plans. Sam quietly ratted you out as he motioned to the door that had just shut.

“Y/N! Get back here!” 

Requests are open again!

Tags:

@jackjackljaqui​@hunting-the-grievers@susan-is-in-the-house@flirtyonsie@mersuperwholocked-lowlife@justsomedreaming

I got a tattoo that relates to supernatural today so I thought it would be appropriate for my blog lol

It’s the design on the side of the colt gun on my inner bicep. I’m so happy with how it turned out.

Here’s a side by side (kind of) photo.

Supernatural : A show that manages to turn some of the world’s most attractive men into these dorky goofballs.

You know what would make survival so much easier for the Winchesters?  SALT FILLED HULA HOOPS!  Seriously can anyone else imagine that?

On one channel we’ve got young Jared Padalecki in Gilmore Girls and on another channel the first episode with soulless Sam! This is a good day