— stardew valley characters reacting to you asking them to be your partner.
req: The bachelor(ettes) heard that the farmer had just brought a bouquet, and they’re a little jealous, thinking it’s for someone else. At the end of the day, the farmer appears holding the flowers to their face and asks them to be their partner 🤭
Sebastian
He hears it from Sam, half-murmured, half joking: “the farmer bought a bouquet today.” and he pretends not to care; keeps staring at the screen, watching the code scroll by without actually doing anything. he swallows hard and stays silent. Sam asks what he thinks about it, but he just shrugs. his heart is racing and he feels a mix of sadness and anger at himself for not having spoken up sooner about what he felt. the ache lingers all afternoon; stupid thoughts cross his mind while he uselessly tries to get back to work.
that night, you look for him everywhere but can’t find him. when you reach the dock, you see him smoking while staring out at the sea. you approach as quietly as possible, the bouquet hidden behind your back. he hears your footsteps and turns around; he meets your eyes and feels a pang in his chest, but when he notices the flowers behind your back, his face twists in confusion. you extend the bouquet toward him and gently ask if he would like to be your partner. he freezes. then laughs, breathless, stunned.
“god, yes… i thought i had lost you before i even had you.”
Sam
he spirals instantly. a bouquet? for who? someone from town? some mysterious ex? he gets confused and anxious. he plays louder than usual, misses a note, sighs deeply, annoyed at himself. he tries new tricks on his skateboard but can’t focus enough and falls two, three times. by sunset, he’s staring down the path to the farm, thinking about going to you and confessing everything at once. but he knows now it’s too late.
when you finally appear, the flowers shyly held in front of your face, he smiles automatically—until you ask him out. for a second, he just blinks. then: the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.
“wait… me? you mean me?”
“yes! who else, silly?” you say, playful. he hugs you so tightly the bouquet almost gets crushed.
Shane
he hears about it at the Saloon and feels a chill in his stomach. he thinks it’s a lie, but in a small town like this, it can’t really be a lie; people see everything and talk about everything. he takes another gulp of his beer and tells himself he doesn’t care. you deserve someone better anyway. but still, he’s quieter than usual, nursing his drink, staring at nothing.
he’s the last to leave the Saloon because he knows that the moment he’s alone in his room with his thoughts, he’ll fall apart. however, when you find him outside, in the cool, soft night air, he freezes, staring at you. you, embarrassed, step closer and offer him the flowers—and your heart.
his voice falters. “…are you sure?”
when you nod, he hugs you tightly, squeezing his eyes shut to hide the tears.
Harvey
he hears it from Vincent when Jodi brings him to the clinic. he thinks it’s just a child’s joke, but when Jodi, in a tone more certain than questioning, asks if he knew about it, he freezes for half a second. “no… i didn’t know,” his voice is low and he forces a gentle smile. a bouquet. bought today. he spends the rest of the day distracted, his heart racing for reasons he refuses to name.
when you show up at the clinic after hours, the flowers trembling slightly in your hands, he assumes he misunderstood—until you ask him. his eyes soften immediately.
“oh,” he whispers, smiling as if the world had just settled back into place. “my dear… i was so afraid i had imagined what we had.”
Elliot
he notices immediately. the empty flower stand at Pierre’s shop. the whispered rumors. he convinces himself this is the natural order of things: beauty chooses beauty. still, the sea feels lonelier that night; his heart races, aching as he stares at the horizon.
when you approach him on the beach, the bouquet raised like an offering, he goes completely still. when you confess nervously, he takes your hand reverently.
“my love,” he says softly, “you’ve written yourself into my life..”
Emily
she hears Gus and Pam talking about it at the Saloon that night. she keeps working, but her smile no longer reaches her face; she feels a strange heaviness, like a thread pulled too tight. there’s a flicker of doubt in her eyes.
when you arrive, the flowers glowing between your fingers, she sighs with joy the moment you ask. she laughs, claps once, and hugs you.
“i knew it!” she says fondly. “but it still feels magical.”
Haley
she hears and pretends she doesn’t care—but she does. much more than she’d like to admit. all day she’s distracted, strangely quiet, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. when you show up at her house, the bouquet partially hiding your nervous smile, she almost scoffs—until you ask, and her expression completely softens.
“oh,” she says, breath caught in her throat. “i thought… never mind.” instead, she cups your face with both hands and smiles brightly before pulling you into a delicate kiss.
Penny
it breaks her heart quietly. she tells herself you deserve to be happy, even if it isn’t with her. she spends the afternoon reading, but can’t focus on a single page. when you approach her by the riverbank, the flowers carefully raised, she looks up, surprised. you take a deep breath before confessing; when you ask her to be your partner, her eyes fill with tears.
“i was so afraid to hope,” she admits, her voice trembling as she stands. she holds the bouquet as if it were something precious and hugs you tightly, happy tears rolling down her cheeks.
Leah
she hears and feels a sense of loss even before it’s confirmed. she tells herself it’s fine, you never really had anything. still, it hurts. when you arrive at her cabin, she opens the door and looks at you in complete shock; you with the bouquet raised like a question, she sighs softly. you look at her with shining eyes and she smiles, slow and genuine.
“i almost let myself believe i’d lost my chance,” she says. then she kisses you, a firm, certain kiss, as if choosing you too.
For your three hundred thing! Perv!Sam Winchester with the one bed trope!! (Of course you don't have to if you don't wanna!)
An Entire Plan Just To Have You
Pairing: Pervert!Sam Winchester x Female Reader
Summary: When Sam has feelings for you but lacks the courage to tell you, there is only one thing he can do: come up with a plan to get you two together—and it starts tonight.
Word Count: 1,124
Tags/Warnings: mentioning of panties kink, Sam being his usual methodical self, kinda Dark!Sam
The only reason Dean had stayed behind at a different motel was because Sam had suggested it, claiming he’d already checked and found there weren’t two rooms available—specifically, none with two twin beds in one—so he’d have to find another place, leaving the two remaining rooms for you and him. Dean didn’t ask questions, though he did eye Sam suspiciously. He simply dropped the two of you off at the motel before driving on to the next nearest hotel.
The truth was, Sam hadn’t checked anything. He’d been hatching a plan in his head ever since he learned you’d be joining the hunt. He’d harbored feelings for you for a long time but never had the chance—or the courage—to express them. Instead, he’d settled for watching you from afar, sniffing your underwear (stealing just enough so you wouldn’t suspect a thing), and faking injuries just to make you worry and drop whatever you were doing to tend to him. Yes, Sam knew it was wrong; he knew that if you ever found out about that—or about the times he’d masturbated while fantasizing about taking you passionately and roughly—you wouldn’t even look at him again. So, he quickly devised a plan.
When you arrived at the motel, he asked you to grab his bag as well and wait outside while he went to book the rooms. It wasn’t exactly gentlemanly behavior, but it ensured you wouldn’t overhear the conversation he was about to have with the clerk.
“Hi,” He greeted, glancing back over his shoulder at you as Dean drove off and you adjusted the bags onto your shoulders. He turned back to the clerk. “I need a room with a double bed.”
He felt no remorse, smiling with satisfaction as he took the room key, though he quickly wiped the smile away and feigned an awkward expression as he walked back to your side.
“What happened?” You asked when you noticed the look on his face.
“There was only one room.”
“Well, I don’t mind sharing a room.” You shrugged.
“No, I mean… There was only one room with a bed for two.”
“Oh…”
He watched your reaction closely. This was a pivotal moment; you might decide to call Dean and go to another motel, shattering his plan—but instead, he just saw you shake your head.
“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.”
“Are you sure?” He asked, just to keep you from getting suspicious.
“Yes, it’s already paid for and Dean has already left. Let’s just get this over with.”
You headed toward the rooms, and Sam followed with a smile, catching up to walk beside you. You entered the room and dropped your bags on the floor before looking at the bed and placing your hands on your hips. But for Sam, there was still one more step in his plan—one that could cost him everything, yet one he had to take to ensure you didn’t suspect a thing.
“You know… I can use the couch.” You looked at him with a sigh, as if his idea were silly, but he pressed on to ensure you wouldn’t suspect a thing. “Really. It looks comfortable.” He gave a small laugh, acting as though the idea might be uncomfortable for him, but implying he’d do it just to put you at ease.
You clicked your tongue and took off your jacket.
“Nonsense. We’re both adults.”
With that, you headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Sam smiled again as he took off his own jacket. He could already imagine the feel of your soft skin brushing against his under the sheets—perhaps just because he shifted position and you happened to be close by.
By the time you came out, Sam was already in his sleepwear.
“I’ll go to the bathroom, and you can get changed in the meantime.”
You nodded; before he went in, he glanced at you as you bent down to open your bag and pull out your pajamas. He shook his head with amusement and stepped into the bathroom.
When he emerged, you were already in bed, under the covers, with your back turned to him. He approached like a predator stalking its prey, climbing onto the bed—making it creak—and shifting the sheets to slide underneath. He gazed at your shoulder and the strap of the thin shirt you were wearing. He grew bolder, moving his nose closer to deeply inhale the scent of your hair—not so strongly that you’d notice, but enough to let your fragrance fill his senses. He was tempted to let out a groan but held it back. He didn’t think you were asleep yet; your breathing didn’t match that of someone who had already drifted off.
He lay on his side, watching you intently. Even in the darkness, he could make out your silhouette and the way it shifted and moved with your breathing. He made sure you were asleep before proceeding with his plan and moving closer to you, slowly draping an arm over your stomach and subtly pulling you toward him. He slid his other arm beneath your head and buried his face in your hair, finally breathing in your scent just as he had wanted.
You slowly opened your eyes upon waking. Sunlight was already streaming in through the blinds and curtains. You blinked and stretched, feeling well-rested, but you couldn’t move far because something strong was holding you back. Frowning slightly, you took a better look at your surroundings. Your head was resting on Sam’s chest; your arms were wrapped around him, and his were around you. You looked on in confusion. You didn’t know at what point in the night you had ended up like this, but it felt surprisingly right, so you decided not to move—not even when Sam woke up, rubbed his eye, and looked down at you curiously before smiling.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
“I see we moved around during the night.” He joked. You laughed softly, still half-asleep.
“It seems so. Though I swear I didn’t expect it.”
“And do you feel okay like this?”
You smiled and nodded.
“I’d be lying if I said no.” You admitted shyly.
He stroked your hair, and you rested your head back against his chest. In truth, none of this had been accidental. His plan from the start was for you to wake up in his arms—as if you felt so comfortable with him that you subconsciously sought out his touch and protection. He had stayed awake for most of the night, shifting you at key moments until you were in your current position. His plan had worked, and you remained completely unaware of it all.
Summary Dean knows about Sam’s crush on you and not so subtly forces you to share a bed.
Warnings None really just cute fluff and embarrassment.
a/n lol I’m rewatching Gilmore girls and I keep mixing Sam with the name Dean when writing oops. Anyways it’s proofread so dw all names are correct.
♡ ⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ✧ ♡ ⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ✧
“Dibs on one!!” Dean shouts as he tosses himself in the air, landing starfish on the rickety bed in front of you. You would have laughed at how comical his actions were if you weren’t so full of nervousness, your stomach felt like a washing machine set to high.
Without word you walked over to the other bed, scared that if you protested Sam would end up offering you the bed and taking the floor for himself, knowing the gentleman he is. As you began laying your stuff out beside the bed - some jewellery and a sack of salt- you missed the knowing smirk and thumbs up Dean sent to Sam, and the death glare sam returned.
Later that night after changing into your pijamas , or the closest thing that counted - an old faded top and some shorts- you heard the brothers bickering. Just as you turned the corner from the bathroom to the main room, their quiet argument and flailing hands stopped as soon as they saw you, Sam landing one final petty slap to Deans chest as Dean sent you a cheesy grin. Weird? Whatever.
You returned a confused and tired smile before sliding into bed, hoping your nonchalant body language covered the fear and slight excitement wracking your body.
A few hours had passed now, Dean was snoring a few feet over spread out on his own bed, while Sam had yet to join you, sitting on a chair in the corner consumed with reasearch.
By this point you felt he may never join you… maybe he didn’t want to, was pulling an all nighter really easier than sharing a bed with you for one night? Or maybe he’d just slip in while you were asleep, maybe that would be better anyways, at least it wouldn’t risk him hearing the hammering coming from inside your chest.
At that moment he gently places the book down, removes his jacked and jeans, sliding into shorts. You’d seen him like this plenty of times, but each time was just as encapsulating.
“let me take that side”.
“What?” The statement completely taking your attention off his body, was Sam really going to stand here and b—
“It’s the side closest to the door. You can take the one by the wall.. you know, just incase”
Oh
You blushed at the idea of Sam caring about you.
As stupid as that was, you knew he cared about you. He always made sure you were safe on hunts. But that’s just the way Sam is, this wasn’t special treatment for you, that’s what you had to tell yourself. You hate false hope when it came to love.
“Yea sure, thank you” you slid over to the other side allowing him room to join you.
Sam felt guilty that you have to share with him, equality guilty and nervous. He knows he’s big, really big, knows his size must be an annoyance for you, taking up more of the bed leaving you with unsatisfying sleep. So he does everything to make sure you are as comfortable as you possibly can be, hoping that maybe just maybe, sleeping next to him will be a positive experience for you… Maybe, you’d want to do it again some time.
He settles into the bed next to you, shoulder hanging of the end of the bed ensuring you have enough space and aren’t forced to put up with a sharp elbow in your ribs.
He’s as stiff as a log, not wanting to make any sudden movements that might spook you to just take the floor instead, he’d never let you do that of course, but he doesn’t want to take the chance of you offering.
Unfortunately for Sam, his neck is at a horrible angle, he’d usually be sleeping on his stomach, cuddling a pillow, but of course with you here that’s not possible, as much as he often daydreamed about you replacing the pillow.
He shuffles himself round, slowly, thinking you are already asleep, or at least drifting, but once he’s fully turned to face you he sees your eyes awake, staring at the ceiling.
“Everything okay” he whispers gently, he’s so close you feel the air brushing against your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. Gosh you wish you could be this close to him all the time.
“Yea, all good” you smiled, facing him for a moment. His eyes are so green, his fringe lying perfectly across them. You can’t take the tension anymore and look past him, breaking eye contact.
“Goodnight Sam”
—-
You wake with a jolt, sitting up on instinct, scanning around the room trying to catch your bearings. Motel room, Deans right there, and Sam is asleep next to you. Okay, okay, it was just a bad dream.. again.
You lower yourself back into the bed pulling up the sheets in the best attempt not to wake Sam, but his arm is slung across your side of the pillow. You gently lift it to move it, he stirs. You lay back down, heart rate still high, and breathing not quite settled.
“You okay?” Sam says in a Sleepy tone, voice lower than usual. You’re not sure if he’s actually awake or talking in his sleep.
“Im fine Sammy, just a nightmare” before you can turn over Sam takes you in his arms.
His arms and body big enough to completely encapsulate you whole. He pulls you until your back is flush against his front, fitting perfectly against him, a puzzle piece exactly where it needs to be. His face nuzzled right above yours, chin lying on your head. You almost short circuit.
Is Sam doing this on purpose?
Is this him making a move?
Is he doing this in his sleep and will be disgusted when he wakes?
You knew he slept with a pillow so maybe he was just subconsciously slipping into his usual position. Yeah, that must be it.
You willed yourself to try to move back to your separate side of the bed, but how could you, Sam was just too comfy, you’d imagined this moment for months and now you were living it, and lets be honest, he’s just too damn strong to move anyways. No amount of force could have let you escape.
With the comfort of Sam’s slow breathing, and warmth radiating through his T-shirt, your eyes fell heavy, and you drifted back to sleep. This time, the nightmares didn’t return.
—
Sam awoke earlier than you, shifting in his sleep, eyes still sleepily closed. He felt you before he saw you, felt your warm presence, the gentle rise and fall of your breath,he almost instinctively cuddled up closer to you, before his eyes snapped open. He gulped.
He had you wrapped in his arms, no space between you. He heard your gentle snores and some anxiety left his body, you were still asleep, maybe you didn’t know. He has no recollection of pulling you into this position. Did he really do this in his sleep? The last thing he remembered was you saying goodnight. And now here you are, wrapped perfectly around each other like a couple who’s always slept this way.
Sam slowly slid his arm out from under you, praying you wouldn’t notice, would you think he was a creep? Utilising your forced proximity for his benefit. He dreaded that you had woke up in the night, tried to escape his grasp, if you had felt uncomfortable but sucked it up not to make a scene. He felt sick at the idea.
He scrambled to get dressed as fast he could and almost bolted out the door of the motel to get some fresh air. And some needed coffee.
Once he returned to the motel both you and Dean were up, dean was pulling on his boots while you brushed your hair. Sam sheepishly set your coffee next to you refusing to make eye contact.
Oh god- had you embarrassed yourself last night…
“Well, considering how comfy you two slept last night, I’ll be assuming I get a bed to myself from now on” Dean smirked as he stood, knowing exactly what he was doing.
Sam’s eyes went wide as you both blushed looking away from each other… oh god.
You both knew.
♡ ⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ✧ ♡ ⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ✧
Hope you enjoyed this short fluffy story! I copied it across from my notes so I hope it kept the right format. Let me know what you think!
I’m new to writing so please any critiques and advice is always welcome! Thanks!!! 🫶🫶🫶
Dean Winchester x toddler sister reader x sam Winchester
Synopsis; As your 4th birthday approaches, all you want is to spend it with your dad. But when he shows up only to leave again, it’s your big brother who proves he’s all you truly need.
Word count: 2.7k
Notes: reference the gif for the main scene
Warnings; daddy issues, daddy issues
“Da!”
“Da!”
You tugged at Dean's pant legs, desperate to grab his attention. Across the table, Sam looked up from his book to Dean and let out an exaggerated cough, “Dean i think she wants you” he remarked. “then she can say my name” he replied flatly without looking up from his journal. Sam shook his head“Add ‘unavailable brother’ to her therapy list” Sam muttered under his breath. Dean rolled his eyes, then finally turned his chair to face you. He leaned forward and tapped his chest in emphasis “De or dean.” He enunciated firmly. “Not ‘da’ not ‘dad’. Dean”
You stared at him with those wide, doe-like eyes. “de…” you repeated softly. “Yes, y/n?” He asked, His tone losing its edge. “I want color, and TV” you demand excitedly, yanking at his jeans. “Alright, I’ll grab you your colors,” Dean said, standing from his chair. Once you were settled in front of the TV with your Scooby color book Dean returned to the table. Sam, who had silently watched the exchange, let out a chuckle. “what?” Dean irritatedly questioned. “I just don't get why it's such a big deal to you” Sam commented. Dean exhaled sharply, trying to keep his voice low. “She knows I'm not dad, Sam.” his patience was wearing thin. “Does she?” Sam hesitated “She sees you a lot more than dad”. “Then why doesn't she call you dad? your with her as much as i am” Dean scoffed, roughly shutting his journal. Sam raised a brow “Because i was at Stanford for the first year of her life” Dean couldn’t argue and remained silent. His gaze wanders to you, engrossed by cartoons, oblivious to the conversation happening behind you.
Sam let out a heavy sigh, following Dean's gaze towards you. “Her birthday tomorrow…” his voice was laced with concern. “I know.” Dean mumbled, “you think Dad remembers?” Sam practically whispered. Dean's jaw tightened “He said he’d be back by tomorrow” Deans tone was flat, rehearsed almost. “Thats not what-“ “i don't know Sam” Dean snapped, his chair scraped against the hardwood as he stood abruptly. Without another word he turned and walked out the door, leaving Sam alone with his unspoken thoughts.
Dean's hand dragged down his face as his chest rose and fell. “Hey y/n” he heard Sam's voice call from inside. “Hi, Sammy”. Confused, he glanced over his shoulder to see the window he cracked open earlier. He hesitantly inched closer, peaking in through the blinds. Inside Sam was now sitting with you in front of the TV. You hadn’t even bothered to look up from your coloring book as you greeted him. Sam watched you for a moment “Y/n why do you call Dean dad?” Sam asked carefully. The scratching of crayons against thick paper had suddenly stopped. You shrugged dismissively “i don't know,” you said, unnaturally high-pitched. Sam knew there was something you weren’t telling him. Sam studied you and chose his next words carefully. “You know deans our brother right?”. Your shoulders slumped and your lips formed a pout.
“But… he acts like the dads on TV…” you mumbled. Sam let the silence sit, hoping you'd say more. “He's always here, he's strong, he loves me…” your voice wavered and before Sam could react, tears started to pool in your eyes. “Ok ok, I'm sorry bug, no need to cry” Sam cooed, swiftly scooping you into his lap. He rubbed slow circles into your back. After a moment Sam moved to cradle your face in his large hands, before speaking “you know brothers can do that too” he spoke gently, not wanting to upset you again. “Really?” You asked, blinking at him with those big round eyes, that never failed to make Sam's heart melt. “He’ll always be here, even when dad can't” Sam replied with a smile. His smile quickly faded when your pout had no intention of turning upside down like something was weighing you down. “What's wrong?” He asked with furrowed brows.
“Does Daddy remember my birthday tomorrow?” Sam’s heart shattered. Outside the window, Dean's head dropped. Guilt gnawing at him. he felt like he was already failing you, he was supposed to protect you from those thoughts. Sam wouldn’t shield their father’s image for you like Dean would, he couldn’t lie to you. “i don't know” Sam admitted, his voice cracking. His arms opened out to you again, waiting for you to seek comfort. But you didn't move. You stayed planted in his lap. “Dos dean….?” Your voice wavered, thick with sadness. “Of course he does” was quick to reply. “Because he's my brother” you mumbled, sam couldn’t tell if that was a statement or question but nodded his head anyway. “Because he's your brother” he repeated, lifting you gently off the floor. He pressed a kiss to your temple and held you close. “Let's get you to bed”
—————
You began to stir, the sunlight was bleeding warmth into the room and the birds chirping soothed you softly from your rest. With a yawn, You pushed yourself upright, rubbing the sleep from your heavy eyes. The faint voices caught your attention. Blinking away the last trace of sleep you turned your head. “Daddy!” You shouted, your eyes had landed on John who stood in the middle of the room between the brothers. Their conversation had halted, watching you dart towards John. “Hey kid” a rare smile tugged at his lips, as he swept you up into his arms. You wrapped yourself tightly around him“It's my birthday!” You announced. “The big 4” he added. Your smile widened, he remembered. “Do i get a gift?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side. “You know i was a little busy, but….” his hand began to rummage around in his pocket. “But this will get you whatever you want” he stated handing you a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. Sam rolled his eyes, a quiet scoff escaping him. John lowered you back to your feet “Now why don't you go play? i need to talk to your brothers” You nodded eagerly at his request, clutching the bill in your hand before scurrying off.
You had decided to occupy your time with more TV, letting their voices become background noise. Until the familiar creak of the door hinges caught your attention. The three of them were walking out the door, with their backs turned to you. You scrambled to your feet, to meet them in the parking lot. “Daddy! Where are we going?” You called out, your small feet smacking against the pavement. They hadn’t even noticed you following them. “I've gotta go to work baby” he explained crouching to your level. You frowned “But it's my birthday!” You nagged with a stomp of your foot. You tugged at his shirt and began to beg. It didn’t matter what he was saying-you just wanted him to stay. Your tantrum wore thin on John's patience “This is more important” he snapped, prying your hands from his collar with a sharp jerk. Your lip trembled uncontrollably, and before the first tear could fall you turned your heel. You ran back to the room, shoving past Sam when he tried to hold you. Sam turned back to face his dad with a cold stare. John returned the glare “Don't give me that look” John warned. “Dean help me with the bags” he ordered. Dean nodded, silently he grabbed a bag and followed their father to the truck.
John closed the tailgate with a thud then turned to Dean, his hand gripping his shoulder “Take care of your siblings” Dean nodded with a commonly repeated “yes sir” and turned back to the motel where he saw Sam standing, his arms crossed with a scowl on his face. Dean moved to stand next to him while they both watched John's truck pull out of the lot and disappear down the road. A faint sniffle broke the silence. Dean glanced down and was surprised to see your trembling form wrapped around Sammy's leg. With a sigh, Dean stepped forward, detaching you from Sam and pulling you into his arms. You didn’t resist and rather pressed your body tightly against your big brother's chest. The safest place in the world. His large hand rubs up and down your back while whispering comforting words in your ear. You shifted slightly, your head moved from resting on his shoulder to being tucked beneath his chin.
“You're my real daddy, De,” you said sternly, outweighing the tremble in your voice. Deans jaw clenched. His heart ached for you, for the little girl who had learned far too early what it felt like to be abandoned. There was nothing he could say to fix things, nothing he could do to shield you from the hurt. He just held you tighter, like it was the only thing holding you together. “Can we get McDonalds?” Your voice broke him from his trance and a small chuckle escaped his lips. “I got twenty dollars” you added, holding up the crumpled bill. A genuine laugh rumbled from his chest, shaking the heaviness of the moment. The girl who was just pulling on his heartstrings now wanted nothing more than McDonalds. Your brows furrowed in confusion, widening his smile even more. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I'll get you all the McDonalds you want” he promised, voice steady. Dean couldn’t fix things with their father, but maybe he could be everything you needed.
→ premise: you in those damn jeans, those stupid jeans that fit you just right. your hips, your waist, your thighs. and god your ass in those jeans nearly had sam drooling. it was shameful he knew it but he couldn’t help it, not when your ass looked so prefect.
→ pairing: sam winchester x fem!reader
→ warnings: smut | 18+, anal, caught masturbating, switch!sam? [he’s dominating but also just whiny and desperate?], nicknames [angel, baby], no lube or prep really for the anal part [i lowkey didn’t wanna write it lmao], not proofread
→ a/n: kinktober 17
It was pathetic, he was pathetic he knew that and yet he just couldn't care at the moment nor help himself. You looked so good he swore it was driving him clinically insane. So good that it was making his genius brain malfunction, and his downstairs ‘brain’ run on overdrive.
He couldn't focus, could barely understand a word the witnesses were saying, it was all going in one ear and out the other. His eyes were just glued on you, on your body, on those stupid perfectly fitting jeans you wore. He felt like a hormonal teenager again, getting all worked up over a dumb pair of tight jeans on a woman. It didn't help that Sam has already been nursing a small crush on you that he’s had sense him and his brother met you.
He had to bail on you and dean in the middle of the interviews, giving the both of you some excuse about not feeling the best and that maybe he needed some extra rest. Though in truth his pants were just getting tighter by the minute and his head getting foggier. He somehow managed to walk himself back to the motel, the short walk doing not a damn thing to clear his head. You in those fucking jeans, those jeans that hug your thighs and your wasit just right, those stupidly tight jeans that made your ass look so fucking bitable it was making him lose his mind.
Even though muffled by his t-shirt pulled up and tucked between his teeth all that filled the quiet dingy motel room were Sams whines they were so loud. He was a mess the second he unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants and boxers down his thighs. His large hand furiously stroking up and down his aching cock, pulling strangled whimpers and cries from his lips. His precum leaking out from his tip acting as lube for his hand to glide along his shaft faster, squeezing it hard as he goes.
He was already so close, it only added to his feeling of being pathetic, he really was a horny teenager now, he couldn't even last that long with his fist around his cock and his head filled with thoughts of you. You on top of him riding him as he whines, you under him your limbs an entangled mess as you pant and moan into his mouth. Him with his head buried between your thighs, you on your knees for him with your mouth stuffed full of his cock, any and all different kinds of images of you all over him. “Need you s’bad, s‘fuckin’ bad holy shit….” He hissed through his teeth in a hushed tone as his head fell back in pleasure, cries of your name and whines about how good you looked fall from his mouth like a waterfall the closer he gets to the edge.
“Hey Sam? Honey? you doing okay?” Your voice shattered the daydream going on in his head that was just about to make him cum. In shock and embarrassment his hand stills, inadvertently edging himself. The nickname only makes his cock twitch more as a short whine comes out of his mouth in response. He was caught and it should be embarrassing, humiliating even, you caught him jerking off in the middle of the day. He should be feeling anything else but what he was right now, It shouldn’t excite him that you caught him. But he was too far gone into a desperate type of head space to care at the moment.
“Oh shit!, i'm sorry i didn't mean to barge in i thought you’d be napping” you babble out, covering your face as heat spreads through your body as you turn around and move like you're about to leave. As you turn sam gets an even better almost 360º view of your body, how the jeans cling to your thighs, the waistband snug around your waist, the denim looks practically painted on your ass, they were so tight.
“Need it s’bad, please i need you s’bad yoou dont have to leave” he whines out, you had already caught him so any composure or decorum he had has been thrown out the window alongside reason. He could be completely ruining your friendship at this moment, you could be disgusted with him and reject him but he was taking that risk cause he was desperate.
Your body as if moving on its own accord, revealing your own hidden desires turns back around to face Sam, slowly taking your hands away from your face. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes scan over his body, his shirt tugged up and stuffed in his mouth exposing his chest, a small trail of hair leading down to where his hand is still wrapped tightly around his cock, a pleading look in his glazed over eyes. Slowly you make your way over to him spread out on the bed, your steps careful as if you were gonna spook him by moving too fast. “What- Uh- what do you need honey?” You question, still a bit confused and extremely nervous. You’d do anything to help Sam, and getting to see him like this all pathetic and desperate was a bonus that was making slick settle in your core and your thighs clench together.
“I need you, want you s’bad” he whines out dropping his shirt from his mouth as he grabs ahold of your hand when you get close enough. Placing your hand on his stiff throbbing cock with his own, you let out a small gasp at the feeling of his warm cock under your touch. “This is what you do to me, you and ya’ fucking stupid tight jeans” he hissed out, letting go of your hand and taking note of the fact you dont move it off his cock he slaps your ass hard with his big hand resting and gropping at it after it comes down.
“These damn jeans that make your ass look so good angel, so good that I couldn't focus, baby. Wanna fuck you s’bad, wanna fuck this ass” he was rambling now looking up at you with his signature puppy eyed look that made you melt. He was so hard it was getting painful, especially since he stopped himself right when he was gonna cum.
He's already thrown caution to the wind by this point, there was no going back.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
You gave in.
Willing to do whatever it took to make Sam feel better as well as the fact that all his begging had made you about just as desperate for him. He had you on his lap now, your back pressed against his bare chest. He was quick to strip you of all your clothes, eyes glued to the way he had to practically peel your jeans off your body. Your thighs were spread and laid over his legs that he had bent up, his feet planted flat on the bed.
Your head was spinning from the feeling of his rough hands exploring every inch of your body. Palming at your tits and his thumb flicking your nipples, squeezing your waist when you squirm in his grasp and grind your ass against him. His lips were mouthing and kissing along your neck, tongue poking out to lick up the side and even behind your ear, sucking patches of small hickies onto the unmarked skin. Your body relaxed more and more in his arms as Sam said; “Need you real relaxed for this angel okay? As bad as i want this i don't wanna hurt ya’” you were certainly relaxed once his thumb started rubbing circles over your bundle of nerves, sighing in a mixture of pleasure and relief. You whine softly as your pussy aches, begging for release already as your folds are dripping in slick, a trail of it sliding down your cunt to your ass even.
Lifting his hips his tip nudges at the tight ring of muscle of your ass, his precum that hasn't stopped leaking as well as his spit that coated his cock acted as your only form of lube as he bullies his thick cock inside. With a broken gasp in both pain and pleasure at the new sensation you dig your nails into the flesh of his forearm that was wrapped around your stomach holding you against him. “Sam~ Honey- Fuck!” You blabber out in a string of jumbled together moans, losing track of where you were gonna go with your sentence once his cock pushes all the way inside, your hole sucking his cock inside.
“Atta’ girl, s’good f’me angel. God your ass is so fuckin’ tight” he cries out, he was already still on edge from just his fist but this feeling was gonna send him flying over it faster than he wanted. The pleasure of his cock filing your ass as well as his thumb which hasn't stopped playing with your clit has your pussy clenching around nothing.
“Baby, m’not gonna last long, it's too much” you moan out as his hips buck up and thrust into you, settling at a fast and relentless pace not giving you any more time to get adjusted. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay, j’ cum, just cum for me angel” he nods his head frantically, moans and desperate cries fill the room and you don't know what sounds are coming from who as you clench down on him.
Your body tensing up and your eyes screwing shut as your climax washes over you, a loud wanton moan falling out of your mouth. Worry about the other residents hearing anything long since past, Sam even felt a small ego boost knowing they were hearing you scream out his name. His hips not stopping their hard thrusting, Sam too lost in pleasure with his head buried in your neck as his cock pounds your ass making you see stars as you cum.
“Feel so good angel, holy shit squeezin’ me even tighter as you cum shit~” he groans out, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine as his breath fans across your ear. Your cum leaks out of your pussy, sliding down to Sams cock giving it even more slick for him to fuck up into you harder and faster, chasing his own orgasm.
“Gonna cum angel, but dont think im done with ya’ when i do, need to fuck that pretty pussy too. Been dreamin’ about that sense we met, need to make you all mine” he cries out as he turns your face towards his and crashes his lips against yours, kissing you like a man starved. His moans are muffled into the kiss as well as more whines of your name as he cums hard.
→ a/n: AHHHH last day of kinktober is tomorrow!! Im hoping i get to post the last day on halloween but i might not so if i dont expect it nov
sam winchester x witch!reader one shot
accidental thought sharing spell, mutual pining, humor, tension, soft sam!!!, a little implied smut
no use of y/n either
The spell was supposed to be simple. Like… embarrassingly simple.
A cleansing charm, something a child learning magic could’ve done in their sleep. So, naturally, it goes horribly wrong the moment Sam Winchester is in the room.
You’re standing in the middle of the living-room-area-turned-temporary-lab, candles glowing purple around the sigils you painstakingly painted on the floor. Sam is beside you, arms crossed, hair falling in his eyes as he studies the pages of your grimoires.
You loved that little forehead wrinkle he got when he concentrated too hard. You loved it way too much.
And unfortunately for you, you think this instead of saying it. Which wouldn’t be an issue, except the spell circle suddenly flares bright white, and Sam’s head jerks up.
Both of you stare at each other, unsure of what just trespassed. There was an odd buzzing in the back of your mind, but it stilled after a few seconds.
“Did it work?” Sam asked. You furrowed your brows and shook your head no, puzzled as to why the spell didn’t seem to finish properly.
And then, a masculine voice echoes against your skull.
she looks so cute when she’s confused
An audible gasp left your lips, realizing that Sam’s lips didn’t move an inch. You could tell he was just as confused now, giving you a doe eyed stare.
“Oh no,” you whisper. “Oh no.”
Sam rubs the bridge of his nose, other hand propped up on his hip like he’s about to give a lecture.
“What did you do?” Your name sounded stern rolling off his tongue. Before you could even try and give an explanation, Sam heard it.
I can’t believe he thinks I’m cute.. my palms are sweating I’m so nervous-
Sam stumbled back, hand rubbing the back of his neck as the realization hits him.
“Did you just..link our minds?!”
A nervous chuckle was all you could muster; you were scared to think or speak anything at this point. No need for Sam to know every sick and twisted thought you have. Mostly about him.
“Oh,” Sam mutters, looking anywhere but you. “That’s… that’s really not good.”
Sam started to pace but you paid no mind. The voice came again, beneath the nerves in your brain going haywire, like a quiet radio static.
she smells really good right now… focus! don’t think that
Your eyes go wide. “SAM.”
His face flushes scarlet red, a low whine coming from his mouth. “I’m sorry! This is impossible- you need to fix this!”
hour 1: chaos
“What do we do?” you demand as your thoughts are tumbling over each other, shuffling around pages of spells like a madwoman. Sam was across the table; several grimoires open below him.
he’s so pretty when he’s panicking
oh my God shut up brain
no DO NOT think about Sam’s arms flexing -
Sam swallows hard, eyes darting from you and back to the pages. You could feel the tension building like thick smoke around you.
“You’re thinking really loud,” he whispers.
“You’re HEARING really loud!”
He winces. Frustration isn’t a good look on you.
“Okay, okay, I’m gonna… uh… try to block you out.”
He tries. Eyes screwed shut, knuckles turning white from gripping the edge of the table, barely letting a breath out.
He fails miserably.
I can do this I can stop thinking about her and the way her cleavage looks so fantastic in that- NO STOP
“Samuel. Winchester.”
His head drops into his palms. You immediately find the first article of clothing in eyesight, jerking the hoodie on with the utmost determination.
“Please don’t say my full name right now.” He peaked up over his fingers and a pained look spread over his face, a groan heard from behind his palm.
You were confused at first until you glanced down and low and behold- it was Sam’s grey hoodie that pooled around your body.
holy shit she looks so good in my clothes I need to see that on her and nothing else
hour 3: Dean Finds Out
Dean strolls into the bunker library while you and Sam sit three feet apart, staring at opposite walls like two traumatized cats. Nothing worked, not listening to music with headphones on, not blasting a movie so loud it rattled the walls, not even sitting on completely opposite sides of the whole bunker.
The thoughts were still there, loud and proud to be heard.
“What’s with you two?” Dean asks, popping open a beer.
Sam sighs, fingers tangled in his mop of curls. “We had a magical mishap.”
You pout. “We can hear each other’s thoughts. This ones on me.”
Dean beams at the two of you like someone just handed him the Nobel Peace prize. “No fucking way... this is awesome!”
“It is NOT awesome,” Sam hisses.
Dean leans against the table, amused. “So… you two basically have no filter now?”
Sam gives him a curt nod, affirming what Dean said is true.
“So, Sammy… what’s the first thing that went through your head?”
His internal screaming hits your brain like an axe.
Don’t say her. Don’t say her. Don’t say her.
Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, glancing between Sams stressed state and your defeated form.
“Ohhhh. It was her, wasn’t it?”
Sam practically dives across the table. “DEAN.” Dean avoids Sam's body, skipping around the table like a taunting child.
“It was perverted, dirty thoughts wasn’t it!?”
He disappeared with Sam right on his heels. You didn’t even try to suppress a laugh hearing Sam tackle his older brother in the hallway.
hour 6: can't keep quiet anymore
Later that night, you walk past Sam in the hallway. Way too close. Your arms brush for a split second, a spark of awareness instant.
she’s so warm God, I wish -
You choke on your breath, stopping in your tracks.
“Sam—”
He backs up until his shoulders hit the wall, breathing hard.
“Please,” he murmurs, “I can’t control it. Every time you get close, it gets worse.”
You take a few steps back, but he doesn’t look relieved.
He just looks like he misses the heat already.
“Sam,” you whisper, “what exactly is getting worse?”
His eyelids fall shut, almost like he was surrendering to the thoughts in his mind.
how much I want her. how long I’ve wanted her. how I don’t know if I’m supposed to say it out loud
A sharp inhale from where you stood made Sams eyes fly open, another blush creeping up on his neck.
“Sam,” you breathe, “you-”
He cuts in, voice low and raw and exhausted.
“Please act like you didn’t hear that.”
hour 12: Midnight Confession
You’re sitting together in the dark of the map room now. No candles, no spellbooks, just the low hum of the bunker’s lights, the soft sound of Sam breathing next to you on the couch.
His thigh brushes yours again as he shifts.
“I can’t keep pretending I don’t.. don’t feel things,” he says quietly.
There is a thundering in your heart at his words. For years this is the one thing you wished you would hear from him, your soft giant of a man.
“Sam,” you whisper, “I had no idea...”
He laughs painfully, trying to keep the tension light.
“That’s the thing. I never wanted you to know, at least not like this.”
His thoughts brush yours gently, hesitant.
I’m scared she doesn’t feel the same
You reach out and squeeze his hand, entangling your fingers. His face immediately softened.
“You really think I don’t?”
The thoughts swirling your mind slip out right on time.
I’ve been in love with you since the first time you killed that spider in my hotel room
Sam’s breath stutters, a smile ghosting his lips.
“That was not my finest moment I’ll admit- crying over a bug... I’m supposed to be a big bad witch.” You joked so you wouldn’t feel the overwhelming anxiety from just confessing your love back for Sam. The same emotions you've been hiding successfully since you first met the Winchesters.
He lifts your chin with trembling fingers. “You love me?”
His voice is so gentle, so sweet and mesmerizing and it nearly breaks you.
“I do,” you breathe out.
His thoughts wrap around you like a blanket; warm, emotional, unguarded.
then I’m done pretending I don’t love her back
hour 16: The Not-Kissing Lesson
Sitting on his bed now, with your knees touching, his hand still holding yours, everything feels fragile and perfect and warm.
Sam’s gaze drops to your lips.
“Sam…” You exhale shakily. “We shouldn’t-”
“We probably shouldn’t,” he agrees, impatience laced around his words.
Neither of you move, but it was not long before his thoughts whisper against yours.
I want to kiss her so badly it’s killing me
You whimper before you can stop it. Sam inhales sharply, eyes darkening.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I shouldn’t have thought that so loud.”
You shook your head, “No, don’t apologize. I just… I want that first kiss to be, I don’t know, real? Genuine? Not that it wouldn’t be- but I just want better circumstances.”
He chuckles, nose scrunching up in a way that makes the coil in your stomach do a flip.
“Fair point.” Then, softly, “Tell me something you’ve never said out loud.”
Nerves on fire and rattling around every crevice of your body, you swallow.
“I think about your hands,” in a low whisper.
Sam’s breath catches, his large hand stilling in yours.
“…Doing what?”
His voice is barely a sound, if you guys weren’t inches away there was no way you’d be able to hear.
You flush violently. And he hears every thought you try so desperately to bury.
I think about his hand wrapped around my throat.. and and sucking on his fingers while he rams into-
Sam moans so loud you’re surprised Dean doesn’t hear from his own room. He rubbed his face with a shaky hand.
“God, this spell is going to kill me.”
Hour 24: The Spell Breaks
By the next evening, after a lot of sexual tension and pulling out your own locks of hair, a reversal spell was found.
You’re both kneeling in the candlelight, and Sam helps you steady your hands. The incantation starts flowing past your lips like wind whispering through the trees. The magic flickers, sparks, burns bright yellow, and then- silence.
Sam gives you a weary look. The quiet was so loud but you had to be sure the spell worked, and it did. The only thoughts in your head now were just yours.
No more shared thoughts.
Just you and him.
Sam blows out a puff of air he was holding, chest rising with a slow breath. His whole body physically relaxed and it brought a grin to your face.
“So,” you whisper, “back to normal again, huh?”
He studies you for a long, intense moment, head cocked to the side.
“Normal,” he repeats thoughtfully, “was overrated.”
Then he cups your face with both hands, leans in and finally kisses you like he’s been waiting months for you to know exactly what he felt. It was the most blissful, delicious kiss you’ve ever experienced.
Something about the way Sam caressed your cheek in his hand made you kiss him harder, tongue exploring the inside of his mouth. It was sloppy and loud and maybe your teeth clanked a few times, but it was still perfect because it was Sam.
If only he could hear the filthy thoughts roaming your mind now, he would be doomed.
-
so like hey, one shots are kinda hard to do LOL. i hear its easier to write when i have a whole background story but ITS OKAY! we are learning <3 this was so cheesy and i wrote it so fast but i hope you like it anywayyyyys
Hii I loveee Nelli and the boys. Could you do one where after a hunt they were all frustrated and tired and she just acts out, and how Dean and her argue to where Sam steps in and scolds her for it. Which hurts her because he’s never the one to get on her it’s usually Dean! :)
Completely done with it
It had been a brutal, seventy-two-hour hunt in the muddy woods of Ohio, a pair of stubborn rawheads that refused to die easy.
Dean’s shoulder was aching, Sam’s ribs were purple, and all three of them were caked in dried mud, sweat, and cheap diner coffee, the brothers were at least, because Nelli was not allowed to drink coffee. Sammy’s rules.
Dean tossed his leather jacket onto the nearest chair in the main room, letting out a long, exhausted groan as his back cracked. “Man, I am gonna sleep for three days straight,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “Or at least until the beer runs out.”
Who would have guessed that…Dean and his beer obsession…
Fourteen-year-old Nelli slumped into one of the heavy wooden chairs at the library table, her arms crossed tight over her chest, staring blankly at the map spread out in front of her. She was exhausted, running on pure adrenaline and about three hours of broken sleep, and her teenage angst was dialed up to eleven.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dean said, turning toward her as he unbuckled his gun belt. “Do me a favor. Take the weapons duffel back to the armory and start wiping down the machetes before the blood sets in and rusts the steel. I gotta check the oil on Baby before I pass out.”
Nelli didn't move an inch. She didn't even look up at him. “Do it yourself.”
Dean stopped dead in his tracks, his green eyes narrowing. He was way too tired for this. “Excuse me?”
“I said do it yourself,” Nelli repeated, her tone dripping with teenage attitude. “I'm not your maid, Dean. I just spent three days in a swamp getting eaten alive by mosquitoes while you guys did all the actual hunting. I'm not cleaning your knives.”
In Nelli's head, it was a completely valid stand. She was fourteen now. She felt like they still treated her like a little kid when it came to the danger, dragging her along just to keep her in sight, but turned her into the cleanup crew the second they got back to safety. She was sick of getting the boring, dirty work while they treated her like baggage.
“Hey, don't start with the attitude, rugrat,” Dean barked, his voice dropping into that strict, no-nonsense register. “We're all tired. Nobody gets a free pass. I asked you to do one simple job, so get your feet off the table and move.”
Nelli finally looked up, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. “No! You always do this! The second we get home, you start bossing me around like I'm six years old! 'Nelli, carry this. Nelli, clean that.' Why doesn't Sam have to do it?”
“Because Sammy spent four hours digging a grave while you sat in the truck listening to music!” Dean snapped back, stepping right up to the edge of the table, his patience completely threadbare. “I am not playing this game with you today, Nelli. I'm sore, I'm bruised, and I've got a headache the size of Texas. Take the damn bag to the armory!”
“Make me!” she shrieked, kicking the heavy wooden leg of the table so hard it rattled the lamps. “I'm not doing it! You're not my boss, Dean!”
“I am the adult here, which makes me your boss!” Dean yelled, pointing a stern finger straight at her face.
Talk about sounding like John Winchester…
“I hate you!” Nelli yelled, her voice cracking with a mix of exhaustion and childish rage as she stood up so fast her chair screeched against the concrete floor. “You're just a giant jerk who likes pushing people around!”
“That is enough, Nelli!”
The sharp, echoing roar slammed through the war room like a thunderclap.
Both Dean and Nelli froze instantly.
Sam stepped out from the hallway, setting a heavy crate of salt down on the concrete floor with a dull, forceful thud. His jaw was set tight, his tall frame towering over the space, and his hazel eyes were blazing with a rare, cold fury. He didn't look like the gentle, patient older brother who usually stepped in to cushion Dean’s sharp edges or offer a soft smile after a rough day.
He looked furious.
Nelli’s mouth stayed half-open, her chest heaving as she stared at him in absolute shock. In fourteen years, Sam had yelled at her maybe three times, and it was always because she had done something dangerously stupid on a hunt. He never yelled at her for throwing a fit. He was the one who listened. He was the one who took her side when Dean got too stubborn.
“Sammy—“ she started, her voice faltering, the cocky teenage bravado evaporating in a single second.
“Shut it, Nelli,” Sam commanded, pointing a long, rigid finger directly at her. His voice wasn't just loud; it was deep, authoritative, and laced with complete, utter disappointment. “I am sick and tired of listening to you throw a tantrum every time you don't get your way!”
Nelli flinched hard, as if he’d actually struck her. A sudden, hot prickle stung the backs of her eyes, but Sam didn't back down.
“You think you're the only one who's tired?” Sam demanded, taking two long, heavy steps toward the library table. “You think Dean and I are out here enjoying ourselves? We just spent seventy-two hours tracking two rawheads in the pouring rain, getting tossed through tree branches, and digging six-foot holes in thick mud while you sat safe in the Impala! And the second we walk through that door, Dean asks you to wipe down a few blades, and you talk to him like he's dirt on your shoe?”
“I—I didn't mean—“
“I don't care what you meant!” Sam snapped, his tone cutting her off like a knife. “He's your older brother. He takes care of you, he feeds you, he makes sure you're safe every single second of your life, and you stand there and tell him you hate him over a bag of weapons? You are acting like a spoiled, self-centered brat, Nelli, and I am completely done with it!”
Dean stood completely motionless off to the side, his own anger instantly vanishing, replaced by a look of sheer, stunned disbelief as he watched Sam lay into her.
Nelli felt her chin tremble violently. The harsh, stinging words tore through her far deeper than any of Dean’s stern barks ever could. Dean yelling was standard procedure, it was just how they operated. But Sam? Sam looking at her like she was a selfish disappointment felt like a physical weight crushing her chest.
A big, fat tear finally spilled over her eyelash, tracking down her dusty cheek. She bit down hard on her lower lip, clutching her arms tightly around her stomach as she stared at Sam, completely heartbroken and utterly stripped of all her fight.
Nelli didn't say another word. She couldn't. The sting of Sam’s words was so sharp it physically hurt. With her head hung low and tears silently streaming down her face, she picked up the heavy leather weapons duffel, her shoulders slumping under the weight, and hurried off down the hallway toward the armory without looking back.
The heavy iron door of the armory clicked shut, leaving the main room in a thick, stunned silence.
Dean stood frozen for a few seconds, his hands resting on his hips, his jaw slightly slack. He looked at the empty hallway, then slowly turned his head to stare at his brother.
“Well, damn, Sammy,” Dean finally breathed, a mix of genuine shock and a half-amused, disbelieving smirk breaking across his face. “Remind me never to get on your bad side. I think you just stripped the paint off the walls.”
Sam let out a heavy, exhausted sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as the adrenaline bled out of him. He slumped into one of the chairs at the table, looking completely drained. “I'm serious, Dean. She can't keep talking to you like that. You let her get away with way too much because she's the kid, but she's fourteen now. She needs to get it together.”
“Hey, no argument here,” Dean said, walking over and grabbing two cold beers from the small fridge, popping the caps off and sliding one over to Sam. “Trust me, I was two seconds away from grounding her until she's thirty. But…” Dean paused, taking a long swig of his beer before looking down the hall with a furrowed brow. The amused smirk faded into genuine concern.
“What?” Sam asked, looking up.
“It's just... you never lay into her like that, man,” Dean said softly, leaning his hip against the table. “I mean, I'm usually the bad cop. You're the one who hands out the ice cream and tells her it's okay. You hit her pretty hard, Sammy. I think you broke her brain a little bit.”
Sam stared at his bottle, a sudden wave of guilt washing over his tired face. “I know. It's just... we're all running on empty, Dean. I lost my temper.” He looked toward the hallway, hearing the faint, rhythmic sound of a rag scraping against steel coming from the armory. “I guess I should go talk to her.”
“Give her five minutes to finish the machetes first,” Dean muttered, though his eyes stayed fixed on the dark hall, already feeling that familiar tug in his chest to go check on their kid sister.
Sam gave it a few minutes before pushing himself up from the table, taking a slow breath as he walked down the dimly lit hallway toward the armory. The heavy metal door was propped slightly open, and inside, Nelli was sitting on a wooden stool by the workbench, aggressively scrubbing oil onto a blade with a rag. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her jaw was set in a tight, angry line.
Sam leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice dropping back into its usual gentle register.
Nelli didn't look up. She just kept furiously wiping down the machete, the rag making a harsh shhh-shhh sound against the steel. “What do you want, Sam? Here to tell me I'm ruining the family balance again, or is it already time for the next lecture?”
Sam winced slightly at the bite in her voice, stepping fully into the room. “Look, bug... I came to talk. I know I came down on you pretty hard out there.”
“Oh, really? I hadn't noticed,” Nelli snapped, her tone dripping with thick sarcasm as she finally tossed the rag onto the bench and picked up a hunting knife to start on next. “I thought that was just your new fun way of saying 'welcome home.' Really sets the vibe.”
“Nelli, come on,” Sam sighed, running a hand over his face. He walked over and sat on the edge of the workbench near her, trying to catch her eye, but she deliberately turned her head away. “You know you were out of line with Dean. You were acting out, and you said some nasty stuff to him after a seventy-two-hour hunt.”
“And you sounded just like Dad,” Nelli shot back, her voice cracking slightly on the last word, though she tried to cover it with a sharp glare. “So congrats, Sam. Gold star for you.”
That hit Sam right in the chest, making him go quiet for a beat. He looked at her closely, seeing right through the snappy comebacks to the genuine hurt sitting right beneath the surface. He knew why she was throwing up walls, it was easy to roll off Dean’s stern barks because they argued like cats and dogs all day, but getting chewed out by Sam was a whole different story.
“I shouldn't have yelled at you like that,” Sam admitted softly, his voice gentle and completely serious now. “Calling you names wasn't right, and I'm sorry. I was exhausted and stressed, but that's no excuse. I snapped, bug.”
Nelli stared down at the knife in her hands, her thumbs tracing the dull back of the blade. The defensive, witty front started to crack, her lower lip giving a tiny, betraying tremble. “You've never yelled at me like that,” she mumbled, her raspy voice barely above a whisper. “Not ever.”
“I know,” Sam said softly, reaching out to gently catch the edge of her sleeve until she finally looked up at him. “And I hate doing it. But you gotta realize, Nelli... we're a team. When you're hurting or tired, we get it because we are too. But taking it out on Dean when he's just trying to keep things running... it's not fair to him, and it's not fair to you.”
Nelli sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve, the fierce teenage attitude completely melting away into the fourteen-year-old who was just plain wiped out. “I was just tired,” she muttered quietly, staring at her sneakers. “And my feet hurt.”
Sam let out a faint, warm huff of a laugh, reaching over to ruffle her messy hair. “I know, kiddo. We're all dead on our feet. Come on, finish up that last knife and go get some sleep. Dean's already half-asleep on the couch, but I'm pretty sure if you apologize, he won't even remember why he was mad.”
Nelli dropped the knife onto the workbench, turned around, and buried her face straight into Sam’s chest, wrapping her arms around his waist as tight as she could.
“I just... I just wished Dean would've understood that I was just tired,” she sobbed softly, her voice muffled against his shirt. She squeezed her eyes shut, a fresh wave of tears soaking into the fabric. “And now I know both of you are mad at me. You hate me, and Dean thinks I'm a jerk, and I ruined everything.”
Sam’s heart melted completely. He wrapped his long arms around her, pulling her close and resting his chin on the top of her head.
“Hey, bug, listen to me,” Sam whispered, gently pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as he rocked her back and forth. “Nobody hates you. Nobody is mad at you anymore, okay? Dean loves you more than anything on this planet, and so do I. We were all just running on empty and snapped at each other. It happens.”
Nelli sniffled, her shoulders shaking with a small hiccup as she slowly let go of his waist, looking up at him with watery eyes. “Promise?”
“Promise,” Sam said with a warm, reassuring smile. He reached over, took the last knife out of her hands, and pointed a finger down the hallway toward the bedrooms. “Now, go take a shower and get into bed. I'll finish wiping down the rest of these blades for you.”
Nelli blinked, surprised. “Really? But you said—“
“I know what I said,” Sam interrupted softly, ruffling her hair one last time. “Consider it my apology for losing my cool out there. Go on, get some sleep.”
A tiny, relieved smile finally broke through her tear-stained face. “Thanks, Sammy,” she whispered, stepping back and wiping her nose with her sleeve before heading out of the armory, ready to finally crash.
Nelli padded down the quiet corridor, her sneakers squeaking softly against the polished floor. She stepped into the main room, expecting it to be completely empty, but Dean was still there.
He was sprawled out on the heavy leather couch, one arm flung over his eyes and his boots propped up on the edge of the coffee table. The moment the heavy iron door clicked shut behind her, his ear twitched, and he pulled his arm back to look at her.
A slow, tired grin spread across his face, his green eyes glinting with familiar mischief.
“Well, well, look who survived Sammy’s wrath,” Dean said, his voice gravelly from fatigue. He sat up slowly, wincing as his sore back popped, and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I gotta admit, kid, I didn't think he had it in him. You really brought out the big guns today. I thought he was gonna make you write an essay or something.”
Nelli stopped near the end of the long library table, dragging her feet. She was completely drained, her eyes heavy and sore from crying, and her whole body felt like lead. She just wasn't in the mood for Dean's usual teasing.
She let out a tiny, miserable huff and crossed her arms, looking down at her sneakers. “It's not funny, Dean.”
Dean’s playful smile faltered, catching the soft, utterly defeated note in her voice. The snappy, sarcastic teenager from thirty minutes ago was completely gone, replaced by a fourteen-year-old who looked like she was about to fall asleep standing up.
“Hey,” Dean said, his tone softening instantly as he patted the cushion right beside him. “Come here, kiddo. I'm just messin' with you.”
Nelli hesitated for a second before dragging her feet over to the couch. She sank down onto the leather cushion beside him, her whole body practically slumping into a heavy, miserable lump.
Without a word, Dean reached over, hooked his arm around her shoulders, and hauled her right into his side. Nelli didn't fight it this time. She just let her head fall heavily against his chest, her forehead resting against the worn leather of his jacket as a long, shaky breath escaped her lips.
Dean wrapped his big arm securely around her, resting his hand on her hair and gently resting his chin on top of her head. He let the quiet of the bunker settle over them for a long moment, listening to the soft hum of the hum overhead and the steady rhythm of her breathing.
“Look, Nels,” Dean began, his voice dropping into that quiet, gravelly tone he only ever used when it was just the two of them. “I know. Alright? I know this life is absolute crap sometimes. I know it sucks that you don't get to have a normal room, or normal friends, or just come home from school and complain about homework instead of helping us wipe down machetes.”
He squeezed her shoulder gently, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles into her arm.
“I get why you're angry,” he continued softly. “Heck, I'm angry half the time, too. You're fourteen, you're exhausted, and you feel like you're stuck in the middle of two big brothers who are constantly telling you what to do, where to go, and how to stay safe. It's a lot to carry, kiddo. Way too much for a kid your age.”
Nelli stayed completely still, her fingers slowly tangling into the hem of his shirt. She didn't say anything, but Dean could feel the tension gradually melting out of her small frame as his words sank in.
“I'm sorry I barked at you earlier,” Dean admitted, pressing a soft, firm kiss into her messy hair. “We were all running on fumes, but that's no excuse for me to push you around. I don't ever want you to think you can't be mad, or that you have to pretend everything is fine. You get to throw a fit every once in a while, rugrat. That's your right.”
He let out a low, tired breath, shifting slightly to make sure she was comfortable. “Just... don't go thinking Sammy or I don't see you, or that we don't care. Everything we do, every strict rule, every weapon lesson, every annoying order, it's all just because keeping you safe is the only thing that keeps me and Sam going. You're our whole world, Nels. Got it?”
Nelli let out a tiny, shaky hiccup, her cheek pressing firmer against his chest as she nodded softly against him. “Got it,” she mumbled, her raspy voice barely audible over the thump of his heartbeat.
“Good,” Dean whispered, pulling the soft throw blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over her shoulders, tucking her in tight against his side. “That’s good, kiddo.”
Not even ten minutes later after she fell asleep Sam walked softly out of the hallway, holding a clean glass of water in one hand. He stopped at the edge of the rug, his tall frame leaning against the archway as he looked over at the couch.
Nelli was completely dead to the world, wrapped tight in the flannel throw blanket with her head pillowed heavily against Dean’s chest. Her breathing was slow, deep, and steady, finally asleep after such a long day.
Sam set the glass on the side table and stepped over, bending down to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. He pressed a warm, quiet kiss to the top of her head before straightening up, making sure not to wake her.
Dean shifted slightly, keeping one heavy arm locked around her shoulders so she wouldn't slide off the cushion, and looked up at his brother with a tired, quiet smirk.
“Look at that,” Dean whispered, keeping his voice barely above a murmur. “Sleeping like a rock. Guess your big scary lecture didn't traumatize her for life after all.”
Sam let out a breathless, silent laugh, shaking his head as he pulled up a wooden chair to sit near the couch. “Shut up, Dean. I still feel terrible about it. She thought we both hated her.”
“Ah, she knows better,” Dean said, his eyes dropping down to look at her small, peaceful face. He smoothed down the top of her messy hair with his thumb. “She was just overwhelmed, Sammy. Fourteen's a rough age under normal circumstances. Add in... well, our crazy life, and it's a miracle she doesn't blow her top more often.”
Sam folded his hands, his expression turning thoughtful and a little somber as he watched her sleep. “She's growing up fast, man. Sometimes I forget she's not six anymore, asking for juice boxes and hiding behind your legs. She's got real opinions, real anger... she's starting to see how messed up everything around us really is.”
"Well, to be fair, she’s always done that.” He smiled warmly, looking down at the sleeping teenager. “Even when she was six, she’d still be a pain in our asses, in the best way possible.”
“You’re right about that,” Sam sighed, now smiling at himself. “I still can't believe I shouted at her…”
“Sam—“ dean started, but was soon cut off.
“She said we talked like Dad, Dean. Like Dad.”
Dean could practically taste the disgust in Sam’s voice. It was always there when he talked about John.
If the eldest didn’t know any better, he’d say that Nelli didn't mean it. And a part of him wanted to believe she didn’t.
But he knew, he knew, that sometimes he does sound like John. And so does Sam.
That’s something they’d never forgive themselves for. Both brothers knew what having a John Winchester in your life meant, especially at a young age, and it was something they’d never want their kid sister to experience.
They both swore she wouldn’t.
A/N: so I got this lovely request and I just HAD to get it done. It was so fun to write!
About the actual story, get ready cause the next chapter will be up in a few hours, I’m finishing the last edits so that’ll be quick.
