Having a supportive, loving boyfriend was a dream come true to you. Your boyfriend Harry was great at first. He was the best. Always asking if you were comfortable and happy, being sweet, taking you out and all that you could dream. However over the past few weeks, Harry had been getting distance. You two had been dating for three months now and you couldn't understand how quick he changed.
You had just arrived at Harry's place. He had said he was busy today, but his car out front gave you another impression. You used your key to enter his house and the first thing that hit your ears was a moan. A female moan. You tried really hard to think he was just watching something, but as you walked up to his bedroom and pushed the door open only to see your boyfriend and a random girl in the bed, naked, you broke.
"What the fuck!" You screamed, Harry and the girl jumped apart, scrambling to get their clothes.
"You fucking asshole! If you didn't want to date me you should have fucking broke up not be a lowlife and fucking cheat!" You shouted.
"We're done! I hate you!" You added, storming out the house before Harry could even get his pants on.
You rushed home, tears streaming down your face. You were angry, broken and hurt all at once. You couldn't believe him.
When you got home, you ran to your bedroom. Your brother Sam was sat on the sofa on his laptop, when he saw you rush in. He got up and followed you to your room, the broken cries making him worried.
"Y/n, can I come in?" He asked softly, pushing your door open a bit.
"S...Sure." You mumbled through cries.
Sam walked and came over, seeing you laid face down on your bed, cries racked through your body, making him upset too. He sat down and rubbed your back gently.
"What happened?" He asked.
"Harry....He's a fucking dick." You angrily answered.
"What did he do?" Sam questioned.
"Fucking cheated with some other girl!" You shouted, your fists balled up and punched your pillows.
Sam sighed and rubbed your back, helping you calm down for a bit. Once you had slowly stopped crying, the tears silently rolled down your face, he brought you into a tight hug.
"I'm sorry he's a dickhead. I know the right guy is out there for you and sadly, Harry wasn't the one." Sam softly said, rubbing circles on your back still.
"Just hurts." You mumbled, laying your head on his shoulder.
"I know it does. It's going to for a while. Colby and I are here for you okay?" He replied.
You nodded, looking at the photo of you and Harry after your second date. You sighed and slowly got up, placing the photo face down.
"You want a movie and some ice cream?" Sam suggested.
"Yeah, sounds good." You said quietly, going to lay on your bed again.
Sam nodded and headed to grab some ice cream from the freezer before coming back to you. He saw you curled up in your blankets looking for a movie to watch.
"Thank you." You said as he joined your side and passed you the ice cream.
"Your my sister, I'm always going to be here for you. If you want a movie and ice cream you got it. You want me and Colby to beat his ass, you got it. I'm here for you." He said, pulling you in for another tight hug.
You smiled, happy to have Sam as your brother. You knew the heartbreak was going to be painful, but with Sam by your side, it would be better.
Driver picks the music, Shotgun shuts his cakehole.
Supernatural Masterlist // Full Masterlist
Sister!Reader x Sam and Dean
You were actually clueless as to how you’d gotten Dean here. It had been months of begging and attempted black-mail. Hell, you had even asked Sam. But neither brother would budge. Until today.
There was no chance you were going to say no when Dean dangled the car keys in front of your face this morning. You had been waiting months for one of your brothers to cave and it had finally happened.
“Do you want to learn or not?”
“Of course, yeah, let me just… get dressed.”
So, you may, or may not, have ended up choking on your cereal. You also totally didn’t continue to choke as you, safely, ran to your room to throw some clothes on and brush your teeth. You sprinted out into the centre of the bunker where Sam and Dean were both chuckling as you showed that you were ready.
“No, you aren’t.”
“What do you mean? I’m dressed.”
“He means you aren’t ready to go driving, Y/N.”
“Yes, I am Sammy!”
You started to get frustrated, beginning to believe that they were just playing games with you rather than actually teaching you to drive.
“Your feet.”
You looked down, you still had slippers on from when you went into the bathroom. The floor of the bunker was normally warm, but the tile floors of the bathrooms were always freezing.
“Oh…”
Sam had wandered down to your bedroom to get you a pair of socks and suitable driving shoes. The boys had seen your expression change and apparently had decided to play nice.
“Are you both coming?”
“Well, I don’t expect you want to be alone with Dean when you smash up the car?”
“I’m not going to be that bad!”
“Still, do you want to chance it?”
“No.”
So all three of you exited the bunker and got settled in the Impala. For a moment, Dean definitely forgot he wasn’t driving. After you actually shoved him to the right side of the car, you hopped into the driver’s seat.
“Right, so put the key in the ignition.”
“Dean, I know how to start a car, even with a key.”
“I know, wait, what?”
You ignored Dean’s question and reached for the aux cord, gracefully added in secret by Sam, and plugged it into your phone. You decided you’d need something not too distracting, but of course you could choose whatever you wished to hear, and whatever Dean didn’t.
As the opening to Status Quo played, obviously from High School Musical, played in the car you watched Dean for his reaction.
“Turn it off.”
“Nope.”
“You can’t listen to music and learn to drive.”
“Sure I can.”
“Can you at least play something else?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
You and Sam looked each other dead in the eye and turned to Dean.
“Driver picks the music, Shotgun shuts his cakehole.”
Dean snapped his head around and raised his eyebrows, almost as if he was in disbelief that you’d actually used his own retort against him.
Summary: The investigation brings on new connections, revelations and deaths around every corner as you and your brothers get closer to finding the real monster of Lake Manitoc.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who sent messages while I was away. I appreciate every one of you so, so much. Thankfully (and miraculously) both of my grandparents have made full recoveries. (Still positive for COVID but symptom-free.) As usual, all dialogue taken directly from the episode will be in italics.
~ ~ ~ ~
“So, there’s the three drowning victims from this year,” Sam said, his eyes never leaving the computer screen in front of him. You were going through the clothes with Dean, silently planning a trip to the local laundromat as the “too used to wear again” pile grew larger and larger by the second.
“And before that?” Dean asked, lifting a shirt to his nose before setting it down on the bed beside him—the first of few wearable clothes.
“Uh, yeah. Six more, spread out over the past 35 years. Those bodies were never recovered, either. If there is something out there, it’s picking up its pace,” Sam replied.
“So, what? We got a lake monster on a binge?” Dean threw a pair of jeans to the large pile behind you.
“This whole lake monster theory—it just bugs me,” you cut in, mimicking your eldest brother’s actions. At this rate, you’d spend more time at the laundromat than working on the case.
“Why?” Dean asked. Sam continued to click through the articles on his screen.
“Loch Ness, Lake Champlain—there are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but here, there’s almost nothing. Whatever is out there, no one’s living to talk about it,” you explained. Dean walked over to Sam, standing behind him and reading over his shoulder. He pointed at one of the articles.
“Bar. Christopher Bar. Where have I heard that name before?” he asked.
“Christopher Bar, the victim in May,” Sam mused, clicking around a bit to find the article he was looking for.
“Isn’t that Andrea’s last name?” you asked as he searched, making your way over to the table and leaning over Sam’s right shoulder. He pulled up the article he was looking for, and the three of you were met with a picture of Lucas. He was wrapped in a towel, and you could only assume it was his grandfather standing beside him.
“Huh. Christopher Bar was Andrea’s husband. Lucas’s father. Apparently, he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned. Two hours before the kid got rescued,” Sam summarized. He clicked on the picture so it filled the screen, Lucas’s terrified face staring back at you.
“Maybe we have an eyewitness after all,” you said, moving away from the table and looking anywhere but the picture. Dean did the same, though his eyes were locked on the computer screen.
“No wonder that kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die isn’t something you just get over.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Dean pulled up to the playground, and parked. He didn’t shut the car off, however, until he’d surveyed the area and spotted Andrea.
“Let’s go” was all he said before getting out of the car. He waited for you and Sam to get out before starting the walk over to where Andrea sat.
“Can we join you?” Sam asked once the three of you were in close proximity to her. Andrea looked up at the three of you and smiled.
“I’m here with my son,” she replied, glancing over at Lucas before turning back to you.
“Oh. Mind if I say ‘hi’?” Dean asked. Without waiting for a response, he turned away and walked towards Lucas. Andrea scoffed, smiling, and looked back at you and Sam.
“Tell your friend this whole “Jerry McGuire” thing’s not going to work on me,” she said.
“I don’t think that’s what this is about,” you answered, giving her a small, reassuring smile before looking back at Dean. Andrea mimicked your smile before turning her attention to Dean and her son. She rose from her seat and stood beside you on your left, Sam to your right. The three of you watched in an awkward silence for a moment, like parents only congregated to ensure their children’s safety. You decided to break the tense stillness.
“So, has Lucas always been so…reserved?” You asked, watching as Lucas almost refused to acknowledge Dean’s presence. A humorless laugh escaped Andrea’s lips, and she turned to face you.
“No, no. He used to be so talkative when he was younger. He shut down when his dad passed.”
“We’re sorry to hear that,” Sam interjected when Andrea paused. She sighed, crossing her arms. “I’ve taken him to therapists…done everything under the sun that I could, but still, Lucas hasn’t said a word. Not even to me. Not since his dad’s accident.”
“Yeah, we heard. Sorry,” said Dean as he went to stand beside her.
“What are the doctors saying?” Sam asked. Andrea sighed again, a sort of exasperated sigh that usually accompanied information relayed countless times.
“Oh, that it’s a kind of post-traumatic stress,” she replied. Something about her tone led you to believe she didn’t believe that herself.
“That can’t be easy for either of you,” you sympathized.
“We moved in with my dad. That helps a lot. It’s just…when I think about what Lucas went through—what he saw…” Andrea trailed off, focusing her gaze back on her son.
“Kids are strong. You’d be surprised what they can deal with,” Dean assured her.
“You know, he used to have such life. He was so hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth.” Her nostalgic smile was short-lived as her thoughts settled back in the present. “Now, he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish—” She cut herself off when Lucas approached, bending slightly to greet the boy. “Hey, sweetie.” Lucas kept his eyes on the ground in front of him, but went to Dean’s side and held out a picture.
“Thanks.” Dean took the picture and looked down at it. “Thanks, Lucas.” He turned his head to look back at the younger boy, but he’d already set back toward the bench. Andrea watched him for a moment then looked back at Dean, mouth slightly agape.
~ ~ ~ ~
The door of your motel room swung open and Sam walked in, letting it shut itself.
“So, I think it’s safe to say we can rule out Nessie,” he announced. He looked to Dean, who sat at the end of the bed currently covered in clothes—clean clothes you’d just brought back from the laundromat.
“What do you mean?” Dean asked as Sam sat at the edge of the second bed.
“I just drove by the Carlton’s house,” he explained. “There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead.”
“He drowned?” Dean asked in disbelief.
“Yep, in the sink.”
“What the hell? So, Y/N is right; this isn’t a creature. We’re dealing with something else,” said Dean.
“Yeah, but what?” you asked, dropping the shirt in your hands. Sam shook his head.
“I don’t know. A water wraith maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water…” Dean trailed off, and the three of you looked at each other, eyes widening with the revelation you seemed to come to simultaneously. “Water that comes from the same source.”
“The lake,” you continued your brother’s thoughts. “Which would explain why it’s upping the body count. The lake is draining. It’ll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it’s running out of time.”
“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone almost anywhere,” Sam added.
“This is going to happen again soon.” Dean moved to sit at the table and began putting his shoes back on, ready to go after this thing. You grabbed your boots from their spot beside the bed.
“And we do know one other thing for sure,” Sam continued. “We know that this has got something to do with Bill Carlton.”
“Yeah. It took both his kids,” you said, pointing out the obvious in Sam’s statement as you tied your laces.
“And I’ve been asking around. Lucas’s dad, Chris—Bill Carlton’s godson,” Sam revealed.
“Let’s go pay Mr. Carlton a visit,” Dean decided, rising from his seat.
~ ~ ~ ~
As if he’d never moved from the last time the three of you visited his home, Bill Carlton sat on his dock, looking out at the water. His back was to the house, and he made no move to acknowledge your arrival at any point as the three of you walked over. His grief was obvious in his movements—or lack of, that is—but it was a whole other thing to see the despair on his face, the sorrow in his eyes when you approached the man.
“Mr. Carlton?” Sam asked. “We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
“We’re from the Department of-”
“I don’t care who you’re with,” Bill cut Dean off. “I’ve answered enough questions today.” His voice quivered as he spoke, always on the verge of tears. You stepped forward to speak with him.
“Your son said he saw something in that lake. What about you? You ever see anything out there?” Your voice was empathetic, but professional—you’d found it was enough to give you an air of authority, but comforting enough to allow you to gain the trust of your witness. Bill, however, remained silent, refusing to meet your gaze. “Mr. Carlton, Sophie’s drowning and Will’s death—we think there might be a connection. To you or your family.”
“My children are gone. It’s…it’s worse than dying.” Bill blinked away tears and finally turned to look up at you. The air fell still for a moment, punctuating his words. He turned away before he spoke again. “Go away…please.” Dean nudged you before nodding his head in the direction of the car. You wouldn’t get anywhere badgering him any further. Sam and Dean left the dock, but you stayed planted in your spot, pursing your lips.
“I’m sorry,” you said softly. Bill only looked down at the ground and shut his eyes. With that, you finally turned and followed your brothers back to the car.
“What do you think?” Sam asked once you were back at the car and out of Bill’s earshot.
“I think the poor guy’s been through hell. I also think he’s not telling us something.” Dean answered.
“So now what?” Sam asked, resting his arms on the hood of the car. You went to stand beside him, ready to get in, but Dean had stopped and was now looking up at the house.
“What is it?” you asked.
“Huh. Maybe Bill’s not the only one who knows something.” He pulled Lucas’s picture out of his jacket pocket and held it out in front of him. The drawing was identical to the house standing before you.
~ ~ ~ ~
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Andrea said, putting her hands on her hips.
“I just need to talk to him, just for a few minutes,” Dean pleaded.
“He won’t say anything. What good’s it gonna do?” Andrea asked him. Sam was the one to answer her.
“Andrea, we think more people might get hurt. We think something’s happening out there.”
“My husband, the others—they just drowned. That’s all.” Andrea shook her head, adamant in her beliefs. You sighed.
“If that’s what you really believe, then we’ll go,” you said. “But if you think there’s even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let Dean talk to your son.” Andrea didn’t reply, and she cast her gaze downward. You could practically see the gears turning as she weighed the pros and cons of letting the three of you upstairs. Moments later, she looked back at the three of you and nodded.
“Alright.” She moved past you and walked up the stairs, motioning for the three of you to follow. You stood against the wall once you’d all reached Lucas’s room, standing close enough to see what was going on, but far enough back to give Dean space to do his thing without an audience. He stepped into the room and knelt down on the floor beside Lucas.
“Hey, Lucas. Remember me?” It was silent for a moment as he looked down at two of Lucas’s pictures. “You know, I, uh…I wanted to thank you for that last drawing. But the thing is, I need your help again.” Dean pulled the picture of the Carlton house out of his pocket and set it down in front of Lucas. “How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen? Maybe you could nod yes or no for me. You’re scared.” Dean nodded. “It’s okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn’t feel like talking, just like you. But, see, my mom, I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that everyday. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe your dad wants you to be brave, too.” You quickly wiped a tear from your eye. The three of you had always had a bond, having lost your mothers to demons at such young ages, but Dean was the only one with real, concrete memories of Mary. Having been two when your own mother passed, you had a vague recollection of her, but nothing as real as what Dean had.
Suddenly, Angela’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open again. You looked back into the room to see what you had missed. Lucas was looking up at Dean, meeting his eyes. He grabbed another picture and held it out to your brother. Dean looked down at it then smiled at the boy. “Thanks, Lucas.”
~ ~ ~ ~
You sat in the back of the car, leaning forward and looking over Sam’s shoulder at the picture he held in his hands. Dean sped down the street, headed back towards the motel.
“Andrea said the kid never drew like that ’til his dad died,” Dean said.
“There are cases. Going through a traumatic experience could make certain people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies—” Sam relayed some Supernatural Psychology 101, but was cut off by Dean.
“Whatever’s out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow?” He asked. Sam started to respond, but Dean continued his thought. “I mean, it’s only a matter of time before somebody else drowns. So if you got a better lead, please.”
“Alright,” Sam relented. “We got another house to find.”
“The only problem is, there’s about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone,” Dean complained. You reached forward and took the picture from Sam, moving it so Dean could better see it.
“See this church?” You asked, pointing to the building in the foreground. “Bet there’s less than a thousand of those around here.”
“Oh, kid thinks she’s so smart,” Dean mocked. You smirked.
“Only ‘cause I am,” you responded triumphantly, sitting back in your seat and setting the picture down next to you. Sam chuckled at the two of you before looking at Dean, shifting the mood of the car when he began to speak.
“You know, uh, what you said about mom—you never told me that before.” Dean kept his eyes on the road ahead.
“It’s no big deal,” he replied, voice monotone. He looked over at Sam when the younger brother refused to look away and grimaced. “Oh, god, we’re not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?” Sam smiled but shook his head, finally turning away from Dean. The two of them remained silent, though, and you decided to break the tension.
“Aw, look at college boy, all in touch with his feelings,” you teased, reaching forward to push on Sam’s shoulder. “You’re turning it into a real chick-flick in here.” You sat back and smiled when your brothers started laughing; your job was done.
~ ~ ~ ~
It had taken a little over half an hour to find the location from Lucas’s drawing, but your assertion had been correct and the three of you had found the white church and, subsequently, the yellow house with relative ease. You had opted to stay in the car this time, letting Sam and Dean go investigate this part of the puzzle. You didn’t have a good feeling about what they were going to find, and after your encounter with Bill, you thought it best to stay back, lest you start getting emotional. Sam and Dean were back in the car within twenty minutes and as always, were quick to fill you in on their discoveries.
“Okay, this little boy, Peter Sweeney, vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow,” you summarized, looking between the two of them.
“Yeah, Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something, huh?” Dean nodded, eyes on the road in front of him as he drove down the street, on his way back to the Carlton house.
“And Bill—the people he loves—they’re all getting punished,” Sam continued.
“So what if Bill did something to Peter?” Dean asked, connecting the dots in front of you.
“What if Bill killed him?” Sam specified.
“Peter’s spirit would be furious,” you said. “It’d want revenge. I mean, it’s possible.”
You were back at Bill’s house minutes later. The three of you got out and looked to the dock, only to find it empty.
“Mr. Carlton!” Sam called, looking around. Dean looked back to the water and spotted Bill in the boat, going out into the water.
“Hey, check it out,” he said, getting you and Sam to follow his gaze. The three of you ran down the beach and onto the dock, calling after Bill.
“Turn the boat around! Come back here!” you yelled, your brothers calling out similarly. Bill only looked back at you before turning his head and speeding up. Seconds later the boat shot out of the water, flying back towards the dock. You jumped back at the sudden explosion of water. The boat landed upside down on top of Bill and, almost instantly, both disappeared under the water.
Synopsis: You couldn’t save the girl. It hits you pretty hard.
NOTE: Short and sweet
MASTERLIST
.
Dean’s the one to grab your arm when you get inside the bunker. You stop cold at the top of the stairs, keeping your eyes fixed straight ahead. You don’t try to pull away, experience had taught you that Dean won’t let go until he’s got what he wants.
“C’mon kiddo, it wasn’t your fault,” he rumbles, as if the words are going to erase the loop in your head, playing the same scene. You, the werewolf, the young girl who still had a life to live. “Y/N.”
You don’t move. “Let me go, Dean.”
His grip, if anything, tightens. “Y/N, you can’t let it get to you. There was nothing you couldn’t done-“
“You aren’t John,” you spit, and you want it to hurt him because you’re angry and guilty and you’re so goddamn stupid. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I could’ve saved her, I should’ve been able to save her, Dean, and I let her die instead. That’s on me.”
“It’s not,” he tries to insist, but his grip slackens and he lets you walk down the stairs.
You refuse to acknowledge the reason he does so. It’s because he knows you’ll seek him out later, once it’s hit you fully just what happened. You’ll seek him out, because you’re weak and pathetic and you can’t even save one girl.
You walk all the way to your room without registering a single step.
You think at one point, Sam calls your name.
You ignore him, just like you ignored Dean’s shout of your name when you’d knocked his bag off the table when he’d tried to stop you from isolating yourself one more time.
Your room is hollow, like you, and you stand in the middle do the floor for a while, just breathing the silence and the stillness. You want to be as plain as your walls, as unfeeling as the greyscale paint job.
You’re so sick of not saving people.
You don’t want to dwell on it yet, and there’s blood on your skin, so you move to the bathroom in a daze, your feet barely making a sound. Your boots are covered in mud, so they leave stains on the floor. You can’t bring yourself to care.
It takes too much energy to strip down, but you do it anyway, just for the sake of being clean. You stand under the water and watch the red disappear down the drain. You wish blame could wash away that easily.
You spend a long time under the warm jets of water, finding solace in the pressure on your skin. You feel like it cleanses you, makes this all a little more bearable. You stand there until you can’t bear to be there anymore, then you turn the water off and simply stand for a moment longer.
For a second, just a second, you hear the girl’s dying screams in your ears.
Then it’s nothing but a heavy, pressing quiet again and you hurry into fresh undergarments, loose sweats and a plain shirt.
You walk back into our room and lie on the bed, your dripping hair causing damp spots on your back and the bed sheets. It makes your head cold, but it also soothes your headache, so it’s a sacrifice you can make.
There’s a knock on your door, and you know in a heartbeat that it’s Dean.
“I brought food,” he says quietly, opening the door. He has a tray in his hands. There’s a plate with plain fries and a cup of apple juice. It’s your comfort food. “I thought it might help.”
You nod and let him place the tray in front of you. “Thank,” You rasp, and say no more.
Dean tuts softly. “Your hair is still dripping wet. You’ll catch cold.” You shirt and start picking at your fries, so Dean huffs slightly and shuffles away, reappearing moments later with a dry towel and your hairbrush. “Move over, you big lug.”
Mindlessly, you shift forward and he clambers onto the bed behind you. He drapes the towel over your head childishly, cackling like it’s actually funny. You don’t say anything and he gives up, just starts towelling your darker locks to get rid of the excess moisture. “When I started hunting with Dad for the first time,” he says, starting to run your brush through your hair very gently. “I missed a shot. Because of that, a little boy got badly injured. He died because of his injuries a few days later. Dad ripped me a new one. Told me I’d never be a hunter if I couldn’t shoot straight.”
You hum noncommittally, and Dean tugs on your hair playfully.
“For weeks, the only thing he’d let me do was shoot cans on a fence,” he continues. “I hit every one. Dead center. He still didn’t let me stop. He said, ‘Dean, you’re going to live with that boys death for the rest of your life. You’re going to feel it in every shot. Make them all count.’ He was right.”
Dean starts braiding your hair, and you start properly eating your fries instead of just picking.
“What was his name?” You ask in a whisper. “The boy?”
Dean finishes the braid. “Kyle. His name was Kyle.”
You chew on your lip in thought before saying, “The girl I failed today. Her name was Alex.”
Dean stands up and presses a kiss to the side of your head. “I know,” he answers, and that’s that. “Now,” he says, gathering your tray. You’ve eaten most of the fries and drained the juice. “I’ll take this out, and bring back Sam, yeah? We can watch a movie.”
You nod. “Yeah okay.”
Dean gives a half smile, and bends forward and presses another kiss to your forehead. “Good girl,” he breathes.
“Dean,” you say as he walks out the door. He pops his head back in. “Thanks.”
Imagine being the youngest Winchester and Sam and Dean don’t know what to do when you’re on your period.
“Guys, I think I'm going to have to sit this hunt out.”
Sam gave you a strange look, “What're you talking about?”
You gritted your teeth, your ears flaring red, “I just can’t this time.”
“We’ve taken on vampires before, what's different this time?” Dean asked, frowning at you across the table.
“Really, it's not a big deal, I just can’t do vampires right now-" you insisted, more than reluctant to admit the truth of the matter.
“Is something wrong, [f/n]?” Sam’s expression was turning concerned.
“They'll smell me coming,” you finally gritted out between your teeth, cheeks flushed pink in humiliation.
Dean blinked and frowned, “What, are you hurt or- oh.” Realization dawned over his face and his eyes widened. “That.”
Sam seemed to have come to the same conclusion. “Yeah, sure, feel free to sit this one out then. Is there, uh, anything you want us to get while we're out?”
Your face felt like it might burst into flames with the power of your embarrassment, “Can you pick me up a pack of pads?”
A/N: This is my absolutely ridiculously late entry for @dreamin-of-somewhere-else ‘s celebration challenge. Does it even count as an entry anymore? I’m so sorry. Apparently my first semester of college kicked my writing ass, but I really really hope to get back on the train. Pls forgive me. Prompt is in bold
Warnings: angsty and just... sad. idk
Pairings: mostly Sam x sister!reader (some Dean & John)
Word Count: 848
Sam’s Age: 18
Reader Age: ~12
Gif cred
Echoing shouts from outside the motel room woke you. You lifted your head off the pillow and squinted at the window. Through the half-open curtains, you could see your Dad and brothers.
“It’s always about what you want! Have you ever thought about what I want? Have you ever even considered what might be best for your own son?!”
The first voice you could make out was Sam’s. You sat up and crawled closer to the window.
“Okay, alright. Let’s just calm down, tough guy.”
That voice belonged to Dean. You peeked through the curtains and listened closer.
“Go inside, Sam.”
Lastly, the voice of your father. He didn’t even have to yell for you to be backing away from the window. Seconds later the door flew open, slamming against the wall. You flinched as Dean and your Dad followed Sam inside. No one said a word as Sam chucked clothing into a duffel bag. You glanced at Dean, confused. He shook his head, silently telling you not to get involved. Your father grabbed a bottle from the counter and took a swig. He slammed it down as Sam zipped the duffel.
“C’mon now, Sam. You’re not actually gunna –”
“Yeah Dean, I am,” Sam said, cutting off your oldest brother.
“Sammy what’s going on?” you asked, and he finally looked at you, as if he just now noticed that you were in the room. His scowl diminished, his shoulders dropped slightly. He walked over and knelt in front of you, pulling you towards him for a hug. You hugged him back, confused and worried.
“I’ll see you soon, bug,” he said, pulling away and standing back up. You felt tears in your eyes as you glanced between the three men in the room, trying to find out some answers. Sam opened the door, stopping momentarily.
“If you walk out that door,” your father spoke, “don’t you ever come back.”
You breathed in quickly, staring at your father in astonishment. The door slammed shut. You turned to look for Sam, hoping that he decided against whatever he was doing. He was gone.
“No,” you mumbled, throwing the blankets off your legs as you jumped out of the bed. Dean moved to stop you, but you shoved his arms away. “No!”
Your vision was blurry with tears as you flung the door open and ran outside.
“Y/N, stop!” Dean shouted. You weren’t listening. Sam turned around. You sprinted into his arms.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked as he grunted with the collision. You buried your face into his shirt, crying and clutching at his jacket.
“Don’t go, Sam. Please, don’t go.”
Sam squatted down and kept his arms around you.
“I have to go, Y/N. I’m going to school. I’m going to a really good school,” he pleaded with you, but you weren’t having any of it. You shook your head.
“You can’t go. We need you. Dad didn’t mean it. You can come back. Sammy, come back,” you sobbed out, trying to catch your breath.
“Hey, listen to me,” Sam said. You didn’t budge. “Bug, listen to me, please.”
You picked your head up off his shoulder and looked at your brother’s miserable face.
“Don’t go,” you whispered. Sam wiped your eyes with his jacket sleeve.
“I’ve got to. This life –” Sam stopped himself, looking for the right words. “The work Dad and Dean do, I can’t do it anymore, Y/N. I want… I need, to do something else. I need to do something better. You understand, don’t you?”
You nodded, but continued holding onto Sam.
“But we’re family, Sam,” you said, unintentionally quoting Dean from before you were woken up. Sam’s eyes were watery.
“I know,” he whispered, pausing. “Y/N, no matter where I go, we’re still going to be family. You’re still going to be my little sister. I just…I need a place I can call my home. Just for a little while.”
“We’re your home. This, me and you and Dean and Dad. This is home.” You said without hesitation. Sam’s tears fell freely now. He pulled you close to him.
A car horn honked, startling you. Sam stood up and you held tightly onto his jacket. His hands pulled your fingers away. He gave you a look as if he were begging you to understand. You wiped at your nose and nodded ever so slightly. You understood. It hurt like hell, but you understood.
Before you could take off towards him again, a hand gently tugged on your shoulder. You turned around to see Dean, his eyes glistening. You looked back at Sam getting into a car a few yards away. He shut the door and held up his hand behind the window, waving goodbye. As you watched your brother drive away, your heart felt like it had been ripped out of your chest. Dean hugged you close. He picked you up and carried you back inside. You couldn’t let go of his jacket. He didn’t make you. You cried into his chest, grasping the small piece of home you had left.
Request/Summary: just once, you’d like to go out and have fun - like everybody else
Pairings: sister!winchester x sam, sister!winchester x dean
Words: a lot like 2145 ish
Warnings: tiny bit of swearing, mentions of underage drinking, bit of sexual harassment & bit of violence
Specific time/Important info: reader is a teenager, my entry for @winchesters-favorite-girl ‘s 31 days of halloween challenge - october 27, ‘sneaking out’
i’ve never really wrote anything like this before so it isn’t the greatest thing in the world but hey ho i tried
You had a strange relationship with Halloween. On one hand, it was a time to have fun and eat candy. On the other, it didn’t feel quite right to see people dress up as the monsters you knew weren’t quite as harmless as the people wearing the costumes. But you tried to think less about the latter, and more about eating all the chocolate you could get your hands on.
This year was no exception. Like always, a group of kids in your year at school were holding another halloween party for the entire grade. Like always, you wanted to go, and be with your friends who went every year, and eat too much sugar that’ll make you vomit, and listen to music that’s too loud, and pretend to be normal so you can just fit in. Like always. Dean didn’t have a problem with it. But like always, Sam refused to even consider letting you go.
“Sammy, please. C’mon- I’ve got straight As at school, I never go against you, I always help do the research for a hunt. Do I not deserve this one night? I promise I won’t do anyth-”
“No.”
“But Sam, you say this every year. And every year I do what you ask, I just want this one time to h-”
“I said no.”
“Please, Samm-”
“Y/n. You can either stop this and go about your day, or you can carry on arguing and stay in your room for the rest of the day. The choice is yours.” He left the library mumbling something about ‘teenagers’ as you turned to your left, dragging a hand to rub the back of your neck. Sam wasn’t usually like this - in fact, it was only really in October when he got this way. Every year near Halloween, his research into local cases got ten times harder because of all the pranks and fake stories spread around towns. You couldn’t blame him for being a little more stressed out than usual.
“Enjoy the show, De?”
“Honestly, I had a great time.” Your brother smirked as you dragged yourself to the chair next to him. “You know, he’s just worried about you, Y/n/n. Neither of us want anything bad to happen to you.”
You looked at your brother. “No- I know, I get it. It’s just.. I mean, you of all people should get where I’m coming from.” You paused slightly. “Wait. You are on my side, aren’t you?”
“You already know I am.” You looked at him hopefully. “But you know he’ll never let me convince him to let you go tonight.”
You frowned slightly. “It was worth a shot,” you started to get out of your chair.
“However, you may or may not feel so sick that you have to stay alone in your room all night,” you looked at your brother like he had two heads, “and I may or may not take Sam out to pick up some food at 7:30, so there may or may not be 15 minutes tonight when nobody but you is in the bunker, and there may or may not be somebody stopping you from doing whatever you so wish to do.”
You looked at your big brother with weary yet thankful eyes.
“I’d have wanted to do the same thing at your age. And we both know I’m not necessarily the best role model for shit like this. Just stay safe, alright? No funny business with anyone, you hear? And, for the love of God, don’t drink any alcohol while you’re there.”
You raised your eyebrows at that last one.
“I’m serious - I know how rich that sounds coming from me. But please, Y/n.”
“You have my word.”
As you hurried out of the library, you shot an extremely grateful “Thank you!” at Dean. You didn’t have the time to stay - you had an outfit to figure out. Besides, you didn’t want to infect Dean with your sickness.
19:27
…
19:28
…
19:29
…
19:30
Each minute was slower than the one before it. What felt like hours had barely been seconds; it didn’t matter now, though. You were in your outfit (you ripped up an old shirt that Sam had given you so you could be a gore-less zombie), Sam and Dean were currently in the Impala, and your friend was on her way to pick you up. You were about to spend a night surrounded by your friends and dancing to your favourite songs. What could go wrong?
A lot.
A lot could go wrong. As you stood down the street from the party, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks, you gripped tightly onto your brother’s shirt. Sam was right. Deep down, you knew he would’ve been since you first mentioned your plans for tonight. But you just wanted this one time to prove him wrong, to prove that you could be responsible, to prove to your friends that you were just like them.
The party had been fine when you first got there. Yes, there was alcohol. No, you didn’t drink any of it. Although you wanted to fit in, you wanted to keep you promise more. You filled a red solo cup with diet coke and entered the room of sweaty teenagers and overpowering music. You and your friends found a fairly empty corner and danced with each other. For once, you were actually having fun. Were. Everything was going fine at first, but you couldn’t help the fact that all the underage drinking around you was making you feel quite uncomfortable. You obviously knew it’d happen, and it wasn’t the drinking itself that made you feel uneasy - it was how it made some people feel like their actions were okay.
Teenage boys + a seemingly bottomless cup? Not always the greatest combination. Some of them weren’t so bad - in fact, the group dunk guys in the middle of the room screaming the lyrics to Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies’ only improved the night. What made it worse, however, was the boy (whose name you didn’t even know) who thought that it’d still be a good idea to grind on you after you politely, and then maybe not so politely, asked him to stop over and over and over again. You attempted to step around him to get to the bathroom. He didn’t like that.
He grabbed your chest. “Where do you think you’re going, babe?”
Your eyes grew wide and you shoved him off of you. Anger poured into your veins and you couldn’t help but feel vulnerable. He smirked. Without thinking twice, you brought your foot up to his shin and rushed past him. You should’ve listened to your brother.
Feeling like you were trapped in a labyrinth, you eagerly pushed past everyone. You needed to get out into the fresh air and away from whoever the boy was. When you got through the front door, you were met with a sparsely crowded front yard which left you slightly relieved. At least if he followed you, he couldn’t do anything. Although there were fewer people outside than in, anything he did would be a lot more obvious - he wouldn’t have the guts to do it.. right?
Wrong. He stormed through the door almost straight after you and his face reflected something that was anything but happy. Fuck. He squared up to you, trying to make himself seem as intimidating as possible. It worked. You didn’t want them to, but your hands began to shake as soon as you looked the stranger in the eye.
“Think you’re funny? Doing that in front of everyone?” His words slurred so badly that you struggled to piece together what he was saying. You opened your mouth to try and formulate a response, but the wind was knocked out of you before any noise could leave your lips. Pain simultaneously spread from your cheek and your gut and you doubled over. ‘All of this,’ you thought to yourself, ‘because I didn’t want to dance.’
He left almost instantly. Not because of guilt. Not because of shame. But because a friend had called him back inside because he was ‘missing out’.
You were disgusted. You wanted to cry, scream, shout at the people watching. You wanted to, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. They’d just say you were overreacting. So you left.
You walked as far as the street would take you, until you could no longer hear the music from the house. You reached in your pocket, pulled out your phone and dialed Dean’s number. When he picked up, you kept your voice as calm as possible whilst you told him the name of the road and the small store you were stood in front of. He asked what had happened - his big brother instincts instantly taking over - and he knew you were lying the second you opened you mouth. You were about to hang up. “J-just please, don’t tell Sam.” You pressed the red button.
The sight of Baby pulling up tipped you off the edge. The tears you’d tried so hard to keep back fell down your face. In seconds, Dean was out of the car and engulfing you in a hug.
“I’m so sorry, De. I promise I-I didn’t drink, it wasn’t my fault.”
“Shh, sh, y/n/n. It’s okay.” He was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry.”
Your eyebrows furrowed.
“He heard the call.”
You turned your head to the Impala, and sitting in the passenger seat was no other than Sam Winchester. Your heart dropped further into your chest and more tears spilled from your eyes.
You got into the car, pulled your knees to your chest and refused to make eye contact with anyone. The silence surrounding you lasted until the end of the street.
“Tell us what happened.” The voice was emotionless.
“Sammy,” Dean could clearly see that you were distressed. As much as he wanted to know what had happened and why you were in such a state, he was aware that right now probably wasn’t the best time to ask.
“What? She’s big enough to go against the one thing I asked of her, so she’s big enough to tell us why she’s upset.”
“Sam-”
“Dean.”
You glanced at the older brother and saw that his knuckles were turning white. “Sam, I get that you’re pissed. I know that I shouldn’t have encouraged her to go and I know that you’re angry. But shut the hell up. Y/n should have listened to you, but she didn’t and there’s nothing you can do to change that. Our sister is obviou-”
“He came over to me. I-I don’t even know his name, but he was drunk,” you interrupted their argument, “a-and he started touching me. I didn’t like it so I told him to stop. B-but he wouldn’t listen.”
The car was deadly silent.
“I-I kicked him, hard. In the shin. And I ran away from him but he followed me and he, h-he was angry. He shouted at me and slapped me and punched me and” you couldn’t hold it together anymore. Voice cracks turned into sobs, tear drops became floods. By the time you’d finished talking, Dean was parking the car at the bunker. You chanced a look up at Sam, fully expecting him to be staring straight ahead. His eyes were locked on you, his mouth parted slightly. Your brother’s eyes were full of pity and sorrow, and still a little bit of anger.
“I’m so, so sorry Sammy.”
Dean lifted you up, kissed your head, and took you inside. He tried to take you to your room; you refused. You didn’t want to sleep yet - your mind was still racing. You asked if it was okay for you to stay in the library for a couple of hours, and he said yes. Before he put you down, he held onto you for a few moments. Despite not making a sound, you heard every word he wanted to say.
You didn’t sit alone for very long. The other Winchester knew where you’d be and decided to sit next to you. You weren’t mad. You didn’t know what you felt, but you knew you weren’t upset with your brother. He’d just been trying to help you and you just assumed that you knew better. Your hand rested on the table silently, and his reached up to join it. You couldn’t help the way it flinched away, in something that was almost like fear. You could almost feel your brother’s heart crack next to you. You hated this. You hated the way you were too scared to talk. You hated the way you felt some sort of fear towards your brother. You hated the way you had become so weak in such little time.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
damn this is so rushed and i feel like i ruined it even more with the ending but i had no idea what else to put bc my other ending idea just felt even worse but y’know what we’re gonna roll with it, thank you so much to everyone who read this far & thank you to @winchesters-favorite-girl for letting me take part in your challenge :)
Request: Could you do a one shot where the reader is tortured by lucifer in front of her older brothers Sam and Dean?
Warnings: a very dark imagine, so except a lot of warnings. Swearing, torture, blood, sadness, and some I probably forgot
A/N: This was so dark to write, I loved it so much!
You had no idea on how you ended up here. It happened so fast, you couldn’t remember exactly how. All you knew was that you were trapped in a creepy room by the one and only Lucifer. You couldn’t move at all, your hands and feet were tied and the panic didn’t help, you were scared for your life and for what was next for you. You knew it wasn’t going to be good for you. And you were alone on this room. You have no clue on where your brothers could be, but you wished they were here, so you wouldn’t be as scared as you actually were.
But when Dean and Sam entered the room, they had their hands tied, following them was Lucifer who had his kine of scary smirk, at this moment you knew something bad was going to happen to you. Your brothers looked as panicked as you, they didn’t know how to get the advantage of the situation, how to help you. Your heart was beating really fast, you tried to find reasurrance in your brothers eyes, but all you could see was fear.
When Lucifer walked to you, you tried to find a way to get up and go to your brothers, but obviously, it didn’t work. You tried to fight back Lucifer but you knew it was useless, he was way stronger than you. Sam and Dean hated to have to see this, seeing their little sister so scared and the fact that they couldn’t help you was actually the worse feeling in the whole world. And yet, it was only the beginning of what Lucifer planned for you.
When you saw Lucifer taking a knife who looked very sharp, you closed your eyes in fear, you heard your brothers gasping. You were praying internally for this torture to stop. Lucifer put the sharp knife against your skin, and dragged the knife on your arm, making you bleed. You started to scream in pain while Lucifer was enjoying to torture you in front of your two older brothers. Lucifer continued to torture you, cutting you a little everywhere. You were bleeding and crying in pain. You just wanted it to stop, the pain needed to stop. Your brothers were angry at the monster, how he could dare hurting you? Dean tried as much as he could to undo the knot of the rope tied around his wrists. He needed to save you. While Sam was looking around, searching for something to cut the rope. They knew they had to save you. You were the most precious thing they had in their lives, and they couldn’t stay here without trying everything to save you. Your screams would hunt them until the end of their lives.
While Lucifer was too busy to enjoy to torture you, Sam found something sharp enough to cut the ropes, so that’s what he did before cutting his brother’s ropes. Dean didn’t wait for a second and jumped on Lucifer, making him stop to torture you. Sam cut the ropes on your wrists and ankles, he helped you to get up. Dean couldn’t stop punching Lucifer angrily, he never wanted to kill him that much before today.
” Dean stop, we need to go “ said your brother Sam, holding you so you wouldn’t fall on the floor
For once, Dean listened to his brother and stopped to punch the monster who tortured you, helping you to walk with Sam to the exit. Every step made you wince in pain.
