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[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Okay, I want to bring another topic to the table, I love how you write Dean and Sam and the dynamic with the little sister, it's just very cute but now I have a question: How would the brothers face the adulthood of their little sister? I mean, it's no secret that the Winchester brothers have a strong codependency, but what would it really be like for them to see their little sister becoming an adult? I think to some extent Dean has already been through it with Sam, but Sam has never experienced that situation of seeing someone you raised leave or grow up since Dean was the one who took care of him and to some extent Sam knew that Dean was never going to leave

Going back to Sam, he may reach a point of compression with his little sister since he himself has been in that situation or I don't know, I guess I have some things that I think would happen with the two brothers:

-Sam and Dean find it difficult to accept that their little sister is growing up since they have always protected her and to a certain extent despite her age, they still see her as their little sister

-They could also feel abandoned, the last time one of the brothers sought to be independent (Sam) they did not speak for years, although this also has to do with John I don't know too many things, I think that's why I love reading Dean and Sam, they're so complex.

What do you think?

let it be noted that I want to study psychology

I think they would probably spend a couple of years struggling with it, to be honest. It would definitely depend on the personality of their little sister; if she was outspoken and independent, they’d be forced to realize her adulthood a little sooner, but if she was shyer or she liked being babied by her big brothers, they’d probably see her as a kid forever.

I think Dean would take the longest to see her as an adult—Sam’s his little sibling too, but she’s the BABY. He’ll never stop protecting her, but after a few years he will come to see that she’s an adult who can make her own decision.

But that doesn’t mean that Sam won’t be a tough nut to crack too—he’s a younger brother, but he’s also a big brother. He would probably be more subtle in his ways, but he would still treat his sister like a kid. If she started to stick up for herself and become more independent, I think Sam would be the first to back off, and he’d talk Dean down too. But again, if the little sister let them, they’d baby her forever.

On the flip side though, Dean would start to see her as an adult in some ways I think. For instance, in hunts or any dangerous situation, he’s never gonna stop protecting/babying her, but with decision making he would soon start to expect her to act like an adult. Here’s an example; the Men of Letters/Mary situation. When Mary chose them and Dean told Sam to pick a side, I imagine he’d be the same with his little sister; she may be the baby, but she has to choose family, too, in Dean’s eyes.

Alternatively, I think Sam would be the flip side of that; he’d be somewhere along the lines of “she’s just a kid, she shouldn’t have to choose sides,” even if you were an adult.

I think it really just speaks to the brother’s differences; Dean is protective as anything, but he needs the people around him to choose him, to choose family. Sam is a little less “needy” (for lack of a better word) in that way, and if you told him off he’d back off on the protectiveness.

TLDR; they’re both protective, but in different ways, and it would take them a long time to get used to their baby sister growing up

PS: I love getting these asks, thinking through different character dynamics is so fun!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

hi!! could you write shy!reader where Eddie bumps into the new kid at school and she gets hurt? I’m a sucker when it comes to Eddie doting on people 🙈

i tried to be so normal about this request but then proceeded to write 2k words for it so... hope you like it lol :D — the hawkins high freak takes the new girl under his wing after they run into each other. literally. (shy!r, meet ugly-ish, hurt/comfort, 2.2k)

You clutch a paper schedule in a pair of anxious hands, squinting to see through the scribbles there. Three boys in bright green lettermans made a total mess of it — writing directions in chicken scratch and doodling a sloppy map of the school over your classes. They said they were helping you, but really they’ve just turned you all around.

Fallen leaves crunchbeneath your feet as you walk past the vacant football field. West of the bleachers and down the dirt trail, the stranger with a harsh jawline and quaffed blonde hair told you. His directions lead you directly to a half-decrepit building in the thick of the woods. A strange spot for a biology lab.

You’re trying to make sense of the scrawled notes on your syllabus — eyes narrowed, and chin tilted downward — when you run into something tall and firm. You don’t hit the warm body hard enough to fall, but stumble back in fear enough to slip on the dewy grass. Like a cartoon character and a banana peel, you land comically on your ass.

“Shit. Sorry,” the towering stranger grimaces. “Didn’t see you there.”

Your wrists start to sting, burdened with the weight of catching your fall. “It’s okay…” you tell him anyway. ‘Cause everything’s always okay. Even when it isn’t. 

A ringed hand enters your vision then — lanky, pale, and tattooed. “Here. Let me help you up.”

“It’s okay,” you dismiss with a shake of your head. “I got it.”

Your jaw clenches tight as you rise on your feet. The slippery mud threatens to pull you down again. Your wrists throb with a dull and distant ache. You stand, despite all that, before the stranger you’d stumbled into the back of. 

Eddie watches you wipe your dirt-covered palms together with a lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t have a clue who you are, but he’s getting a few ideas now. You’re a strong, stubborn, and shy little thing. Pretty, too. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he cautions with his palms spread awkwardly in front of him. He wants to make sure you’re alright, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Strong, stubborn, shy, and definitely skittish, he thinks to himself.

You shake your head again, finally glancing at the boy looming before you. His curls are dark and untamed, billowing in the early spring breeze. His deep chocolate eyes match the color of the frizzy strands — both equally as wild as the smile he looks at you with.

Your breath catches suddenly in your throat. You hadn’t expected to bump into him, of course, but you expected even less for him to be so pretty.

“I’m—”

“Don’t say okay,” he interjects before you can start. His plush lips quirk in a genuine smile a second later, to show he’s only joking.

You swallow hard, still hopelessly trying to rid the mud from your aching palms. “I’m… I’m— I’m fine.”

The boy scoffs a faint laugh. “Here. Let me see.”

He takes your wrists in his hands before you can protest. His fingers are long, gentle, and strangely warm as he brushes the mud off your scrapped skin — hardly flinching when it dirties his own. 

He wipes his palms on his jeans after, never minding how it stains the denim. Then he reaches a leather-clad arm behind you and plucks a leaf gently from your hair. He flicks it to the ground again.

“There,” he grins. “Good as new.”

“Thanks…” you sigh, voice wavering from a reason you can’t name.

“Why haven’t I seen you around before?”

“‘Cause I’m… I’m new.”

“Explains why you’re all the way out here,” he jokes. Most people only come around this side of the football field to buy weed off him, and you don’t exactly seem like the type. His chocolate eyes narrow. “You lost?”

You shift on your feet, feeling suddenly very silly about the whole thing. You’ve got to be a special kind of stupid to take advice from a bunch of jocks and hardly bat an eye when they lead you in the exact opposite direction. You’re too trusting for your own good. It’s embarrassing.

“I was, uh— I was just trying to follow this map, but…” you wave the paper in your clammy hand. “I think it just made me more lost.”

Eddie reaches out a ringed hand and takes the schedule from you when you hand it over. His face scrunches softly together as he squints at the sloppy scribbles. You can’t tell if he’s confused or if he needs glasses. Maybe both.

He can hardly make sense of the directions. And the map was designed in a very obvious attempt to confuse you — the sweet, shy girl who’s never stepped foot here before. Something redhot simmers in his chest ‘cause he can’t imagine doing this to someone. Finding someone who obviously needs help and doing them over for a couple measly laughs.

It’s got Jason Carver and the Dick Brigade written all over it. Literally.

“Who gave this to you?” he asks anyway, just to be sure.

You blink up at him with a pair of doe eyes, gaze glimmering with innocence. “Um… A couple of basketball players, I think. They were wearing lettermans, so…”

“Fucking Carver,” the boy grumbles under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing…” he sighs. “Here. C’mon. Let’s go.” 

“Where— Where are we…” you mutter in a mousy voice, trailing off when he stomps past you. You get a faint whiff of floral shampoo and woodsy cologne as he goes. Less inclined to stay alone in the unfamiliar forest, you decide to follow behind him. “O-Okay…”

You fight to keep up with his considerably longer strides as the stranger leads you back towards the school. His dark eyes flit over your schedule, squinting to see past the messy lettering covering the typeface. 

“No point in making it to your third period,” he announces suddenly, swinging the heavy metal door open with a ringed hand. The rusted hinges squeak in protest when he holds it open for you with his foot. You slide in past him. He walks on ahead of you again, letting the thing slam shut behind him.

“Why?” you ask the back of him, voice wavering.

“‘Cause you’re already fifteen minutes late. And take it from me— Mr. Kaminsky hates when people are late,” Eddie tells you, flashing you a stern look over his shoulder. “Trust me. I learned that the hard way.”

Your brows pinch as your face swirls with a distant panic. You couldn’t conceal your worry if you tried. The gravity of it all hits you, then — the fact that you’re following a stranger you ran into (in the most literal sense of the phrase), who’d previously been half-hidden away in the forest behind the school.

It’s all a bit odd when you think about it. This. Him. You. 

But this strange boy, dripping in silver and all black, is the very first person to show you an ounce of kindness all day. You don’t know why you’re following him so blindly — only that you don’t mind it as much as you should.

“Okay. So. Uh… Where are we— Where are we going, then?” you squeak behind him.

“Right here,” he answers, stopping short in the middle of the hallway. 

Still a few paces back, you don’t hopelessly bump into the back of him like you did before. You watch with wide and curious eyes as he wraps a pale hand around a rusted door knob. The heavy wooden entrance squeals when he opens it.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” the boy jokes with a crooked grin. Everything about the pink expression glitters with mischief. He flicks on the light switch, letting the flourescent lights buzz on in protest. “Well, not abode— I don’t live here, but… You get it.”

The room smells overwhelmingly teenage boy. A mixture of cologne, sweet soda, and sweat. Most of the chairs have been stacked on top of each other and pushed to the edge of the room to make space for the long wooden table in the center. Binders, notebooks, and miscellaneous figurines sit scattered on a gameboard.

“Is that D&D?” you wonder quietly.

Eddie lights up at the question. “You play?” he asks as he saunters to the desk shoved in the very back corner of the room.

His excitement makes you regret your answer. 

“No…” you waver, then quickly follow. “But I’ve— I’ve heard about it.”

“I’m president of the Hellfire club,” he tells you, nodding to the poster on the wall. The demon in the center of it isn’t nearly as intimidating when you can tell it’s handmade. “You should join.”

The boy eyes you expectantly as he rounds the metal desk. You shift your weight on your feet and wring your clammy hands together. He tilts his chin to his chest and peers at you from underneath his lashes. “Think about it?” he presses.

You nod once. “Sure.”

He ducks down then, out of view behind the bulky desk. You stand awkwardly in place while the boy rummages through the drawers. “Ah, here we go…” you hear him murmur after a few moments — followed by a dull thud when he bangs his head. “Shit!” he swears under his breath before rising to his feet again.

You hide your smile behind your scrapped palm as he walks back over to you. His cheeks glow faintly pink as he rubs the crown of his head with his hand — the one not clutching a first-aid kit. “Here. Shit down. Let me look at your hands,” he urges, still worried about you despite his throbbing skull.

You shake your head rapidly in response. You’re not used to being doted on like this — or at all, really — but especially not from a metalhead, wild-haired, pretty-faced stranger. “No. I’m— I’m okay.”

His chocolate eyes go wide and softly stern. They glimmer playfully down at you as his brows raise behind his fluffy bangs. “What we’d just talk about?” he teases.

You swallow down the rest of your protests. “Right…”

You sit in the chair adjacent to the one at the head of the table. The cheap plastic is a stark contrast to the heavy wooden throne the stranger descends upon — with a sort of ease that tells you he sits there often.

He digs into the opened first-aid kit and pulls out a bandaid for you. He fumbles with the packaging for a moment before ripping it open with his teeth. 

“It’s okay not to be okay, you know?” he tells you, mostly muffled until he spits out the paper in his mouth. It lands on the floor at his feet, but he doesn’t seem inclined to pick it up. “Tell me I’m a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

Your face screws in offense. “I wasn’t—”

“I’m teasing,” he interjects softly, peering at you with a pair of button eyes. “Even though I am a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going.” He takes your palm between his warm and gently calloused ones. He smooths the large bandage over the raging scrape below your thumb with an impossibly delicate touch. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. Again.”

“It was my fault,” you murmur, gaze averted to the boy’s kind hands — at the six tiny bats tattoed in the junction of his thumb and forefinger. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s just a scrape, anyway, I can handle it.”

“Agree to disagree,” the boy says with a lopsided smile, brushing his thumb over the bandage to smooth it out. He gives your fingers a small squeeze before he parts from you. “There you good. Good as new.”

Your hands buzz with the longing to feel him again. You bring both of them to your lap, wrenching your fingers into a knot and hoping your face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “Thank you…” you murmur, trailing off when you realize you don’t know the kind stranger’s name.

“Eddie,” he finishes for you.

“…Eddie.”

“You can stay in here with me if you want,” he offers with a nonchalant shrug — trying to be cool despite his thundering heart. “Third period’ll be over in, like, twenty minutes. I can walk you to your next class— you know, make sure all the freaks leave you alone.”

You purse your lips to the side of your mouth in attempts to hide the beam tugging there. It only halfway works. “That’d be great,” you tell him in a mousy voice. “Thank you…”

Eddie swallows hard and leans forward again. You can smell the nicotine on his breath and the musky cologne on his neck. His face hardens into a gently solemn look. 

“And don’t… Don’t hang around Jason Carver and his goons anymore, okay?” he tells you, sounding like he’s half-pleading. “Those assholes that fucked with your schedule? They’re bad news.”

Feeling like he must know this better than anyone else, you nod firmly in response. “Okay,” you answer, though it comes out in a whisper when the word gets caught in your throat. Something about having Eddie to you is making your body go all funny. It’s weird.

“Stick with me, okay?” the boy smiles, pink and pretty and petaled, as he slouches back onto his throne again. “I’ll take care of you.”

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hey! Just wanted to say I love you Winchester x little sister fics!! They are so sweet! I love when they come up on my dash!

I’ve missed quite a few lately I’m gonna have to catch up on them! Any way love them!! 🤍🤍🤍

Awww thanks so much! 💜

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

What is your opinion of Mary? Personally I try to understand her but I feel like she was never really a good mother and her attitude throughout the seasons even makes it seem like she doesn't want to be one (even though she says otherwise) I don't know, I try to understand her but I just can't , I will always support that Jody and Ellen were Sam and Dean's true mother figures. The same thing happens with Bobby, he is the boys' real father but hey, I think we all know that John was an idiot.

Honestly I’ll take John over Mary any day. Say what you will about some of the crap that he did (and I sure do), but at least we all knew he cared about Sam and Dean, enough to go to hell for Dean. I don’t really like Mary—as a person she didn’t seem to care about Sam and Dean, and as a character she wasn’t interesting to me.

I think it was really interesting for the writers to decide to take a character that had really just been a plot peace—the character of “mom”—and make her an actual person, I just don’t like the actual person.

I really wish that Sam and Dean had got to keep that image of a perfect mom, I think it was good for them to have something from their childhood that was pure, but I understood the writers wanting to add depth to it, even if it sucked for Sam and Dean.

But no, I don’t like Mary, most of the time she just annoyed me and the rest of it it felt like she was betraying Sam and Dean one way or another.

Side note: I also think the line where she says “I am not just a mom” is such a meta line, because it feels like the writers telling us that this character—that for a ton of the show was just “mom”, like “we’re doing this for mom, because the demon killed our mom”, but there was no actual person behind it—is no longer “mom” but “Mary”. Personally, I liked “mom” better.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hi! I was wondering if you would do another Beau arlen × daughter reader. I would be very happy if you do.

I’ll probably end up doing another one eventually, but did you have a specific request in mind?

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hi, can i request a daughter/sister reader where she is a little toddler and gets a big cut/boo boo? The brothers have to distract her while one of them bandages her up, there's lots of crying and yelling but soothing on the brothers part.

Here you go

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Band-aids and Biker Gangs

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: the brothers’ baby (toddler) sister gets (minimally) hurt, and they come to the rescue

“De, I want more pie!”

“You already had two pieces.” Dean argued with his three-year old little sister as they left the diner with Sam and their side.

“I’m pretty sure you have only yourself to blame for this,” Sam chuckled. “Your addiction got her addicted.

“I’m not—“ Dean took his eyes off you to argue with Sam, and you took the opportunity to run ahead, going for the Impala. You’d almost reached it when a group of motorcyclists swerved into the parking lot. They cut around you, but one came so close that he had you stumbling backwards, a scream of terror leaving you as the roaring engine passed about a foot away from you. In your attempts to get away, your foot hit the curb and you went down hard.

All of this happened in mere seconds, and Sam and Dean could do nothing but watch. That is, until the motorcyclists had passed and you were lying on the street, crying.

Dean reached you first, his instincts kicking in just a second before Sam’s. As soon as he reached you, he was checking for injuries—your hands were cut up badly because of the small rocks covering the pavement, but other than that you seemed unhurt.

Dean’s heart twisted when he noticed you sobbing and trying to pick pebbles out of your palms.

“Hey, hey.” Dean grabbed your hands. “It’s ok sweetheart, let me do that.”

He heard you whimpering, and looked up to see your staring past him, your little body shaking. Dean turned around to see the biker gang watching the both of them.

“Take her,” Dean said to Sam without even looking at him as he stood and went straight for the biker that had almost run you over.

Sam lifted you into his arms, letting you wrap your arms around his neck as he rubbed your back.

“Shh, it’s gonna be ok,” he whisper-spoke to you, rocking you gently but making sure to keep you faced away from the men. He watched Dean carefully, prepared to step in only if he had to—he didn’t want to let you go for a second, not when you were shaking and crying in his arms.

Thankfully, Dean had it handled.

…

“Hey!” There was no question as to why Dean was approaching the biker—he was pissed, and everyone knew it.

“You got a problem with me?” The biker demanded.

“Yes, actually, I do. That’s a toddler over there, that you coulda killed!”

The man was unbothered.

“I had it handled.”

“Well, do you wanna know what I think?” Dean was nose to nose with the man, all but shaking with anger. “I think you’re gonna get on that oversized tricycle, and you’re gonna clear out.”

A few of the other bikers stepped forwards, but the man held them back with an “I’ve got him.”

“Or what?” The man spat. Dean scoffed, a smirk twitching on his lips a split second before he knocked the man flat on his back. Before the man’s buddies could even react, Dean had his gun out and aimed at the man on the ground.

“What about now?” Dean growled. The man got up slowly, brushing himself off and staring warily at Dean’s weapon.

“We were just leaving anyway,” he huffed, and within a minute him and his friends were gone, making sure to give you and Sam a wide berth.

“Hey.” Dean’s rage was gone in a moment, replaced by soft eyes and gentle touches as he pulled you into his arms. Sam released you without protest. “How are we doing, huh baby?” Dean asked gently.

“‘M ok,” you sniffled, resting your head against Dean’s shoulder and all but burying your face against his neck. He’d never felt you hold him as tightly as you were now, and he felt compelled to tighten his arms around you too, making sure you felt secure.

“Let’s get you back to the motel and we can take a look at those hands, ok?” He suggested.

“It hurts,” you whimpered, each word coming out between shuddering breaths as you tried to speak through your tears. But you made no other protest as Dean carried you to the Impala. However, when he tried to bundle you into your car seat, you started to cry harder, refusing to release your clad-iron grip around his neck.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Sam soothed as he reached out and pried you from Dean’s arms. “I’ve got you, you can sit with me.”

Dean went over to his side as Sam sat in the passenger seat, securing you in his lap. They wouldn’t normally do this, as it wasn’t the safest way to travel, but the motel was only minutes away, and neither brother was able to resist you when you were upset.

You calmed down during the drive to the motel, the gentle purr of baby lulling you as the pain in your hands faded to a dull ache.

Sam carried you into the motel room, and when the brothers entered Dean went straight for the first aid kit. When he turned to you and Sam, he grinned when he saw Sam already distracting you, making silly faces while you giggled and kicked your feet. You were so happy that you hardly noticed Dean gently grabbing onto your wrist. That is, until he rubbed disinfectant on your palm. You were mid-giggle when it turned into a whine, and you struggled to pull your hand from Dean’s.

“Stop it!” You started to cry again when Dean wouldn’t let go of your hand.

“Hey, hey…” Sam brushed a few of your tears away. “De’s just fixing up your hand, you’re ok.”

“It hurts!” You yelled at him. He wasn’t fazed by your anger, knowing you were just hurting, and he spent the next few minutes calmly comforting you as Dean finished up with your hands.

“Ok.” Dean finished off each bandage with a gentle kiss to your hands. “You’re all done.”

You held your arms up and let Dean pick you up, wrapping your arms around his neck and burrowing against his shoulder.

“Thanks, De,” you mumbled. He could still hear you sniffling.

“You bet,” he said softly. “You were really good, you know.”

“Yeah,” Sam chimed in. “Good enough, I think you deserve some ice cream.”

“Ice cream!” Your head popped up, and both boys chuckled.

“C’mon, baby,” Dean grinned. “My treat.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Dang my brain always went “make of run events”, didn’t know what it meant but I never questioned it

All this this time I thought your url said Maker of Unrest and now that I look closely at it I realize it says Maker of Rune Vests.

XD your brain gave me a cooler url than I gave myself, for sure! I like knitting and I’ve knitted vests with runes on them.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Am I that easy to forget?-Sam ending

A/N: Sam coming to make everything better.

Make sure you read this part before you read this part? (<- I’m so good at this)

25 Days of Holiday Tales Masterlist

Sam x Sister!Reader

Keep reading

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Anything for you Babe

Request: Heeeey, I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is their half-sister and it’s her first Christmas without her mom and she’s upset so Sam or Dean cheer her up and can you make it really fluffy pls and thank you xo    

A/N: Reader is a teenager who is experiencing her first Christmas without her mom who died of cancer. I went for Sam cheering the reader up, mainly because I tend to focus on big bro Dean too much.

Warnings: Parent dying of cancer.

25 Days of Holiday Tales

Dean x Sister!Reader     Sam x Sister!Reader

You sat cross legged on your bed as you flipped through the scrapbook your mom had made you. It chronicled everything in your life, from your birth all the way up until she was too sick to do it. The last thing she had put in the book was your most recent birthday that you had celebrated with her, Sam, and Dean. That was also the same day she told you that the cancer was going to kill her and that she needed Sam and Dean to agree to take you in when the time came.

Closing the scrapbook and placing it next to you, you let out a shuddering breath as the tears began to silently flow down your cheeks. You missed your mom. It was your first Christmas without her and it sucked. Sam and Dean had taken off a week ago for a hunt in New York, promising they’d try their hardest to make it back in time for Christmas so that you weren’t alone. It was an empty promise and you knew it. Lebanon to New York was a two day drive, meaning they’d have to wrap up the case in only two days to ensure they’d be back in time. Dean had called this morning saying that they were wrapping it up and would be on their way soon. Today was Christmas Eve, meaning they wouldn’t get here until after Christmas.

Letting out a sigh you buried yourself in your blankets and stared at the Christmas lights on the small tree you had in the corner of your room. Sam had gotten it for you before they left, saying that you could all decorate it when they got back from the hunt. However, after realizing that you weren’t going to be celebrating the holiday with your brothers you decided to decorate it by yourself.

Keep reading

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The feminine urge to cut your own bangs when hormonal is so real…

I blame Taylor Swift for looking like a babe with bangs and having hair similar to my type

PS. I also just got the Lover vinyl and I’m obsessed, it’s so GORGEOUS

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hello can you write a daughter Winchester fic.Dean's the dad and the daughter has her first period? Sam and dean help her through it cause she's crying and she's scared and she doesn't really know what to do? She's awkward but surprisingly the brothers are cool as shit cause deans like I'm a single girl dad and i know I have to support you through this??? Thanks love xoxoxox

Hey, requests are closed right now but I actually got another request while they were open that’s the same as this, so here it is!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hello

Can you write a daughter Winchester fic (either dean/sam) she has her first periods? And she's shy so she doesn't know how to tell her dad and she's crying? Btw I love your work💗

You bet!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hexed?

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader, Sam Winchester & niece!reader

Requested by anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: you get your period for the first time, and Sam and Dean help you through it

Warnings: blood, period, crying, fluff

You awoke in the middle of the night, unsure at first what had woken you up. Then a sudden, stabbing pain in the pit of your gut had a pained gasp escaping your lips.

“What…” you mumbled as you pulled your blankets aside and clicked on your lamp. Another gasp, this time one of shock, came out as you saw blood covering your sheets and blankets. The gasp was followed by a whimper as another wave of pain washed over you.

You didn’t understand; you hadn’t been injured anywhere recently, and certainly not down there…

The only thing you could think of was a witch—Rowena had been around lately, and though she seemed to be on your side, could you really be sure? She could have left a hex bag in your room, something that would make you bleed to death! You checked your mouth, your nose, your ears—anywhere else that you could be bleeding from—but nothing; it was just between your legs. Your chest was tight, your throat constricted, as panicked gasps left you. You tried to take deep breaths—you needed to keep calm—but it wasn’t very effective.

You wanted to go and get your dad and Uncle Sam, but first you decided to do a quick sweep of the room; you didn’t find any hex bags.

You made your way awkwardly towards your fathers room, very aware of the blood running down your right leg. Your hands were shaking as you reached out to knock on his door, and when you looked down you realized that all of you was shaking.

Dean opened the door, rubbing his face and looking half asleep.

“N/N? What are you doing up?”

“I-I-I…” you swallowed hard and tried again to speak past your tears. “I think I got hexed.”

Dean was suddenly alert, his eyes fully open and his stance straight.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Im ble-bleeding and it won’t stop,” you sobbed.

“Bleeding? Where?” It was too dark for Dean to see the growing stain on your pajama pants.

“Um…my-my…” you were suddenly shy, struck with how awkward it felt to talk about this with your father. You clammed up, alarming Dean.

“Commere,” he said, opening his room for further and gesturing you in. He clicked on his bedroom lamp and looked you up and down. It took him mere seconds to see the blood on your pants, and to your surprise he relaxed completely. “Oh kiddo…”

His lips began to twitch ever-so-slightly, and now it looked like he was having an internal battle. Was he…

“Are you smiling?!” You demanded. “Dad, I could be dying!”

A single second of laughter escaped him before he schooled his features, noting how scared you were.

“Honey, you’re not dying, I swear. This is totally normal.”

“Normal? How could this be normal, I’m bleeding!” Dean’s nonchalance just made you more frustrated, which just made more tears fall.

“Hey, hey ok,” Dean’s voice was gentle and understanding. “Just take a seat and I’m gonna go get Sam. He can get you what you need for this and while he’s gone I’ll explain it.”

“Do-do we have to tell Uncle Sam?” You mumbled, still embarrassed, but less panicked.

“Trust me, Uncle Sam knows what this is too. It’s not gonna bother him a bit.”

“Ok.” You nodded your assent. “But-but I can’t sit on your bed, I’ll get blood all over your sheets.”

“Just sit, I’ll wash them later, ok?” Only after you’d hesitantly sat on your dad’s bed did he leave to get Sam.

…

Dean was just wrapping up his explanation when Sam returned with a Walmart bag and a gentle smile.

“Hey there,” he greeted. “How are we doing?”

“Um—ok,” you mumbled. Now that you understood you weren’t dying, you were more embarrassed than anything. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“Don’t apologize,” Dean insisted. “I should’ve told you earlier, I just…I thought I’d have another year or two.” Dean ruffled your hair. “You’re growing up fast, kiddo.”

Your lips twitched up—only a little—and Dean grinned before turning to take the bag from Sam.

“Ok, what do we have here?”

“Uh—“ Sam scratched the back of his neck. “Well I asked this lady that was buying some of this stuff herself, just to make sure I got everything. I got pads and tampons, because she said that Y/N should get to pick. Then I got a heating pad—that’s supposed to help with cramps. I got this one that you can plug in, it looks easy to use, but then I got this one shaped like a teddy bear that you can put in the microwave.” Sam reached into the bag as he spoke, pulling out each item in turn. Sure enough, he pulled out a little brown bear, and you smiled. “And then I got a lot of chocolate, and some, uh…” Sam pulled out a bottle. “I don’t really know what they are, but it’s supposed to be better for cramps and stuff than Advil, so…”

Looking at all the stuff on the table, you felt incredible overwhelmed. You needed all this stuff?

“Ok.” Dean clapped his hands together. “I guess you should start with these.” He held out the box of pads and the box of tampons. You took them both, reading the instructions on the back carefully before taking both boxes with you to the bathroom. You returned a few minutes later to both men busy at work—Dean taking the sheets off his bed while Sam was returning from your room with clean clothes.

You took the clothes from Sam and retreated back into the bathroom, and after a quick shower to clean yourself off, you emerged again in clean pajamas. Dean was just returning to the room with the teddy bear fresh from the microwave, and Sam had gotten you a water bottle.

“Do you want us to take this stuff to your room?” Dean asked, and you saw his question for the open invitation that it was.

“Could I stay in here?” You asked, and Dean smiled.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m gonna go get some clean sheets, and then we can go back to bed, ok?”

Not ten minutes later, Sam had returned to his room and you and Dean were getting comfortable in his bed.

“Just let me know how you’re feeling in the morning, and we’ll go from there ok?” Dean said.

“Ok,” you mumbled sleepily, burrowing into Dean’s side. “Hey dad?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure, kiddo.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

I know that requests are closed but I wanna request that you get yourself a nice snack in my name as a thanks for so many great fics you've been posting ♥ I'm always super happy when I get the notification that I was tagged in one of your works!

You are literally the sweetest! 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 Thank you! 💜

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do one with where the reader is Sam and Dean’s little bother who’s 13 and maybe got diagnosed with OCD?

Hey, sorry requests are closed right now, and I’ve never done a male pov so I don’t know if I’d be that good at it