#sam x sick!reader

[trektraveler]

My Hero

Summary: Doctor Sam WInchester had fallen hard for the woman living just down the hall. She was easily the most adorable and the most accident-prone creature he had ever met! Yet for all the times he came to her rescue, he was too shy to make a move. Maybe he could work up his courage, if he got just one more chance...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Sam x Reader, Doctor!Sam Winchester x You

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Garth, Dean Winchester

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, fluff

One Shot

Word Count: 3700

Author’s Notes: I swear, every time I get sick all I want is a Winchester to come and take care of me. Is that really so much to ask?? I think not! This is my very first Sam x Reader fic! I have a few more ideas rattling around for the youngest Winchester brother, but this is decent practice. For now. Enjoy!

     Bang.  Bang.  Bang.

     “Coming, coming!”  Sam pulled t-shirt over his head as he trotted to the front door.  He’d been getting ready for bed when the insistent knocking started.

     The door swung open to a very nervous young man in a Wong’s delivery uniform.  Sam recognized him from the few times he ordered from them. 

     “Hey, its Garth, right?”

     “Yeah,” he shifted on his feet, his eyes round with worry, “You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

     Sam’s instantly shifted into his professional mode.  He was currently an attending at Lawrence General Hospital, having just moved back a year ago from L.A.  It had been an adjustment, but a welcome one.  Big city life didn’t suit Sam at all. 

     “I am.  What’s going on?’

     “I was dropping off an order down the hall to the lady in 302 and I heard this thud behind the door and now I can’t get her to answer.  I think something’s wrong.”

     Sam was already grabbing his medical bag, “Show me.”

     302.  He knew the woman who lived there.  More or less.  They kept running into each other.  He first discovered her fighting with the soap dispenser in the laundry room.  Then again when she locked herself out of the building during a thunderstorm.  And then last week when the elevator got stuck between floors.  He always seemed to be wandering by when she needed a rescue.  She was funny, smart, accident prone, and completely adorable. 

     Sam had been working up the courage to ask her out, but something always seemed to crop up.  An extra shift at the hospital or a birthday party for a colleague.  He knew it was an excuse.  For all of his professional success, Sam was, and always had been, extremely shy.

     “Y/N?”  He knocked loudly on the closed door, then tried the handle and found it locked. 

     “Alright, stand back,” he said to Garth.  In one powerful move, Sam kicked the door in, the heel of his foot landing in just the right spot to splinter the doorjamb. 

     “Damn,” Garth blew out an impressed breath, “You aren’t even wearing shoes.”

     You were laying in the foyer.  Curled on your side with your hair spread out like a halo.  A wallet sat a few inches away from outstretched fingers. 

     Sam was at your side in an instant, gingerly turning you over and searching for a pulse, “Y/N?  Can you hear me?”

     Garth hovered nearby, nerves in his voice, “Is she okay?”

     Sam ran a hand over your forehead, “She’s burning up.  Go see if you can find a washcloth and a glass of water.”

     His worry only grew when he carried you to the couch and you still didn’t come to.  He held your limp body up with one hand while he worked your hoodie off with the other, leaving you in a tank top and yoga pants.  He’d strip that off you too, if he had to.  Every inch of bare skin he touched felt like it was on fire! 

     “Why isn’t she waking up?”  Garth asked handing Sam a kitchen towel.

     “Dehydration.  With a fever this high, it can happen quick.”  Sam dipped the towel in the water filled coffee mug and bathed your face and neck.  Sure enough, his efforts were rewarded.

     You groaned, even that soft sound reverberated through your pounding head.  Everything hurt and all you wanted was to slip back into the blankness of sleep.   But it was so noisy!  Someone kept talking, like the parents in a Snoopy cartoon.  Unintelligible, insistent, and so annoying!

     Sam gently tapped your cheeks, “Y/N.  Come on, darlin.  Open your eyes for me.”

     With a bit of coaxing, you did as he asked.  Everything around you swirled and slowly came into focus.  Your head felt heavy and fell to the side, Sam was there and smiled down at you.  As a reflex, you smiled back before your fevered brain could catch up and tell you who you were looking at.

     “Hey… it’s my hero.”

     Sam chuckled in relief, “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”

     “You’re here.  That’s so nice… why are you here?”

     “You passed out,” he replied, pressing the cool cloth to your brow.  “Do you remember what happened?”

     You tried to search your memory, but everything was so fuzzy!  “Um, I came home from work… I was sick.  Felt really bad.  Everything hurt.  Achy and cold.  Headache.  Then I ordered soup from the place down on Main Street.  I dunno…I feel a little out of it.”

     There was a blood pressure cuff wrapped around your bicep that was inflating.  Where did that come from?  Sam was doing that doctor thing where they listen to you talk while taking vitals at the same time.   

     How did doctors do that?  Did they teach that in med school?  It seemed especially confusing to you as your thoughts kept skipping away and going down rabbit holes.

     Cool fingers felt under your jaw, pressing against swollen lymph nodes.  He always had such a gentleness about him.  Such grace.  Surprising for a man of his size, but he seemed to take such care with you.  Like you were the most rare, delicate creature in the world.

     Last week when you found yourself stuck in the elevator, it was Sam who answered your call.  He muscled open the doors single handed and lifted you up though the opening without breaking a sweat.  You were more than a little awe struck by his display of strength and chivalry.  If you’d had half a brain, you’d have invited him for coffee as a thank you.  As it was, you were preoccupied with being late to work.  A sadly missed opportunity with your handsome neighbor.

     “You came home from work, was that last night?”

     “Um, yeah.  Yes.  As if Mondays aren’t sucky enough.”

     Sam’s eyebrows rose, “That was two days ago.”

     “What?”

     “Today’s Wednesday.”

     That information had you on the move.  You sat straight up and instantly went white.  The room titled and if it weren’t for Sam’s hands steadying your shoulders, you probably would have slid right off the couch.

     “Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Not so fast,” Sam advised, forcing you to recline.

     “I gotta go call work… or… somebody.”

     “The only place you are going is to the E.R.”

     “No, I can’t go to the hospital.”

     “Y/N, listen to me.  You’re dehydrated to the point that you fainted.  Your fever is 103, that’s dangerous territory.” 

     Sam tried to be stern, but he just didn’t have it in him.  You looked so pitiful with your hair sticking to the sweat slick skin and the dark smudges under your eyes.  You were desperately sick and he wasn’t going to simply leave you without treatment.

     “I know a lot of people are scared of the doctor, but I promise I’ll be right there with you.”

     You swallowed, wincing at the feeling of knives in your throat.  “I’m not scared, I’m uninsured.  My job is new, benefits don’t kick in for thirty days.”

     Garth piped up, “You’re a doctor, can’t you just prescribe something and treat her here?”

     “It’s not that simple.  She needs to be admitted so they can get an I.V. going and get some fluids into her system.  And bring that fever under control.”

     He felt your head loll against him.  He looked down in alarm and found you’d lost consciousness again. 

     “Y/N?  Wake up, Y/N!” 

     This time no amount of effort would bring you around. 

     “Damn it,” Sam growled as he got to his feet.  He grabbed a notepad from your entry table and scribbled a list down.  “Do you know that walk-in clinic on 42nd street?”

     Garth followed him, “Yeah, I pass it on my way to work.”

     “Great.  My brother is on call there tonight, go in and ask for Dean.  Tell him it’s for me, he’ll help you.”  Sam tore off the list and thrust it into Garth’s hand, “Get everything and hurry!”

     Garth shoved the paper in his pocket, “What if they don’t believe me?  That clinic isn’t in the best part of town, junkies hassle them all the time.”

     “Dean will believe you but in case he doesn’t say Poughkeepsie.  It’s our go word, means drop everything.”

     “A secret code word, you guys must be brothers,” Garth muttered on his way out the door.

     You woke feeling warm.  Bundled up in something soft and secure.  Your eyes stayed closed as you enjoyed the luxurious feeling.  Most mornings you woke up stiff with your muscles complaining about the ancient futon you had yet to replace.  It was left over from college and the wood slats dug into your hips, but moving to a new town was expensive!  Anything like a proper mattress would have to wait until you had a few more paychecks under your belt.

     You stretched a bit, content to roll over and fall back into your dreams, but something tugged on your hand and pinched.  You frowned and tried again; it was like you were caught in a fishing net. 

     “What the hell…?”  You grumbled unhappily, determined to keep your eyes closed out of stubbornness.  You blindly felt around and found a tube and tape attached to your right hand.

     Your eyes popped open.  An I.V.?

     You weren’t in your bed.  You weren’t in your room!  Where the hell were you? 

     The dimensions matched your bedroom, but it wasn’t bare bones like yours.  This one was painted a lovely smoke grey.  Bookshelves lined one wall and a mahogany dresser matched it on the other.  The bed was the biggest you’d ever seen.  The headboard was massive and intricately carved.  The mattress was firm but yielding. 

     The bedside table housed bottles of medication, a stethoscope, a digital thermometer, and a glass of water.  You remembered being sick.  Sicker than you’d ever felt.  You remembered your boss sending you home then… nothing.  Just a blur. 

     You sat up slowly.  When the room didn’t spin, you decided to press your luck.  You pulled back the covers enough to dangle your feet over the edge.  Your toes found plush carpet.  You felt weak, but not dizzy.  And you were cold without the blankets.  Looking down you found bare legs.  You were wearing only your tank top and Wonder Woman underwear. 

     Fuck.  Where the hell are my clothes?!

     With a quick yank, you pulled the I.V. out and headed for the door. 

     “Yeah, Dean I know.  If I promise to wash and wax your car, will you get off my case?”

     “No way in hell you are waxing my Baby, do I need to remind you about Liza Raffaella in the eighth grade?”

     “Please don’t,” Sam groaned into the phone. 

     “It’s wax on, wax off.  Not wax on, go chat up a nerd girl for three hours while the wax bakes on in the sun!”

     “Sam?”

     Sam spun at the raspy voice behind him.  You were standing in the hall, your hand braced against the wall for balance.  You looked a little wobbly, but far better than you had in hours.

     “I gotta go,” he told his brother before ending the call.  “Y/N, hey.  How you feeling?”

     “Confused.  How did I get here and where are my clothes?”

     “Oh!”  Sam’s cheeks colored instantly as he grabbed a soft, woven throw from the back of an over-sized chair.  He draped it over your shoulders and ushered you to the sofa.

     “Sorry about that, your fever was sky high.  Needed to bring it down in a hurry.  Here, sit.”

     You sank down onto a couch that was just as comfortable as the bed you’d woken up in.  Sam disappeared into the kitchen then returned with a glass of ginger ale and some crackers.  He was rattling off something about Chinese takeout and your pants being in the laundry.  All the while he was fussing over you.  His long fingers found the pulse point on your wrist, and he produced a pen light from somewhere to check your pupils.

     After a few minutes, he realized you were staring at him, “Y/N?”

     “Sam, grateful that I am for your hospitality and bedside manner… I still don’t understand why I’m here.” 

     “Well, I figured it would be a better place for you to recover… with all the construction.”

     Now you were really confused, “Construction?”

     Sam rubbed the back of his neck and embarrassment turned his ears pink, “Yeah.  I ah… I kinda broke down your door.”

     “What?!”

     “You weren’t answering!  I just had a really bad feeling, and I would never have forgiven myself if something happened to you.”

     His gaze traveled your face then locked on your eyes.  “I was worried about you.”

     You looked at him, really looked.  He was beautiful, as he always was, but there was an edge of exhaustion to his features.  His five o’clock shadow was darker than you’d ever seen it.  The fine lines around his eyes and lips were etched deeper and his hazel eyes were slightly red.  Even his enviable hair was disheveled. 

     “So, you committed destruction of property to save my life?”

     “I did.”  He gave a nod, his tone teasing, “You gonna turn me in?”

     A small smile played around your lips, “Nah.  I might need your services again.  I have a habit of getting into trouble.  Nice to know I’ve got my own personal hero on call.”

     “You call, I’ll come running.”

Two Years Later:

     “That was not our first date!”

     “We spent the entire weekend curled up in my bed, it counts.”

     “I was unconscious!”

     “Not the whole time,” Sam countered, threading his fingers through yours, “Sometimes you’d wake up.  Of course, you were delirious.  You did have some of the most creative fever dreams… what was that one about the Catholic church hiding the existence of extra-terrestrials by dressing them up like the clergy?”

     “They were hiding dinosaurs, not aliens.  Tiny dinosaurs under their creepy old lady robes.  And still, not a date.  I think you’ll find most dating experts would agree with me on this.”

    “Dating experts?”

     “Your brother.”

     Sam huffed out a laugh, “Don’t be fooled by the rumors, he’s not the Casanova everyone thinks he is.”

     “I dunno, guy gets a lot of dates.”

     “First dates.  Ask him about his batting average for second dates.”

     “Oh yeah?  Got him beat, do you?”

     “Hands down.”

     Sam curled a finger under your chin and brought his lips down to meet yours.  You hummed happily as an electric spark zinged all the way down to your toes.  It was crazy that even after two years he still managed to excite you with just a touch, or a look.  You never had to doubt his feelings for you, he wore them openly and proudly.  He never missed the opportunity to hold your hand in the grocery store or to wrap his arm around your shoulders at the movies.   A kiss to the temple, a hand at the small of your back.  Every touch was filled with the warmth of the sun on a summer’s day.  Every night was filled with the heat and passion of desire that could never be sated. 

     You leaned into Sam’s side as he guided the two of you down the winding path that cut through the willows.  “So, tell me Doctor Winchester, why haven’t I been to your family’s estate before?”

     “I wouldn’t call it an estate, it’s just a few acres.”

     “I don’t care if it’s a patch of dead grass… you have horses!  Horses, Sam!  I’ve wanted to go horseback riding since I was ten.”

     “We might be able to squeeze in a lesson for you before we head home.”

     “Really?!”

     “I’ll bet you’re a natural, you’re already an expert with a riding crop,” he whispered in your ear.

     “Sam!”  You admonished him, instantly turning red, “That was a one time!”

     “Best birthday ever.  And to answer your question; you haven’t been here before because I was waiting.”

     The path curved and opened up to a decent sized pond.  A dock jutted out onto the clear, still waters and ended in an elaborate gazebo.  Painted a picturesque white and topped with a copper finial, hundreds of tiny fairy lights hung from the rafters glittering with magic and romance. 

     “Oh wow,” you breathed, following Sam down the planks.  “This is like something out of a book.  God, it’s beautiful!”

     “My parents built this place from the ground up.  Mom had this vision in her head about a pond where she could come and watch ducks.  Teach her kids to swim and fish.  So, one summer, Dad started digging.  I don’t think he even had a plan, all the neighbors thought he was crazy!  But he was stubborn and determined.  And he loved my mom more than anything.”

     You walked out to the end of the platform and leaned out on the railing.  Dragonflies danced along the surface of the water as the sun began to set and the crickets started to sing.  “He did a great job.  Did he build the gazebo too?”

     “Anniversary present,” he confirmed, joining you by the railing.  “This was my favorite spot when I was a kid.  Dean loved the garage, hanging with Dad and tearing apart trucks with the radio blasting.  I couldn’t stand the noise, so I’d come out here.  Even in the winter.”

     Suddenly, a swan flew down and landed in the middle of the water.  Graceful and noble, it glided across the water sending the slightest of ripples out in its wake.  As it turned, you could see a single black feather against the white of its tail. 

     “Oh!  I’ve never seen a swan with one black feather.”

     “He’s always had it, never could figure out why.  He showed up when I was ten and just never left.  I call him Solomon.”

     “Is it just him?  I thought swans always paired up?”  

     “Well, that’s the thing, they do have mates for life, but he showed up alone.  And I know it sounds silly, but he was mopey.  He didn’t take a lot of interest in anything; he didn’t interact with the ducks or even pay any attention to me when I tried to feed him.  He was sad.  Some animals grieve and I think he was grieving for his lost mate.”

     “Poor guy,” you murmured, watching as Sam took a packet of birdseed from his pocket and tossed a bit out on the water. 

     “When I left for college, Solomon migrated and didn’t come back in the spring.  I thought I’d seen the last of him, but then I got a call from Mom this past summer.  He was back and he brought someone with him.”

     As if on cue, a second swan swooped down and landed beside Solomon.  Pure white and just as lovely.  They looked like a postcard, gliding on the sunlit water.

     “You’re kidding!  He found another mate?  I didn’t know swans would do that!”

     “Some do, special cases.  And Solomon’s no fool, he might have been content to be alone forever, but when that right one came along, he snapped her up.”

     “That’s amazing!”  You turned to Sam with a beaming grin, but stopped short when you realized he wasn’t standing there beside you.  He was kneeling. 

     “Sam.”

     He took both of your hands in his, tipping his face back to gaze up at you with such tenderness and devotion it made your breath catch.

     “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time.  I knew what I wanted to do and how I wanted it to look, but the words never came.  Everything I wrote seemed inadequate.  Even the word love falls short.  It’s not enough, it’s not big enough.  Being with you is a revelation, Y/N.  You call me your hero, but baby… it’s the other way around.  You rescued me.”

     Tears had already gathered in your eyes when he pulled out a blue velvet box.  A diamond solitaire sparkled inside like a star in the sky. 

     “I don’t know if I’ll ever have the words, but I swear to show you.  To treasure you, to make your happiness my mission.  To answer your call and to love you for all my days.”

     You dropped down to your knees and tackled him.  Your arms flung around his neck, nearly knocking him over in your enthusiasm.   He caught you with a laugh and kept the two of you from tumbling off into the water.  You kissed every square inch of the face you’d loved since he first rescued you.  And you laughed.  Joy bubbled up from your heart like effervescent Champagne.

     “You astonishing,” Kiss. “Brilliant,” kiss. “Romantic,” kiss, kiss. “Beautiful,” kiss, kiss, kiss.

     “Y/N… baby…”

     “Yes?” Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.

     His hands wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back slightly so he could look into your eyes.  He traced the curve of your face, fondly tucking your hair behind your ear.  You were always moving, always racing towards everything in life.  It was something he loved about you, your exuberance.  Your passion!  You burned so bright, his light even on the darkest days. 

     “Will you marry me?”

     Your brow creased in confusion before you realized, he didn’t actually say the words a moment ago.  You been so excited that he never got the chance. 

     “Yes,” you nodded, your forehead coming to rest against his. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

     Sam slipped the ring onto your finger, “Will you look at that?  Perfect fit.”

     “Guess that means you’re stuck with me now.”  You shifted so that you were sitting in his lap, your hand cupped his jaw, “I should tell you up front that I tend to get into trouble, there’s a good chance that you’ll be required to rescue me from time to time.”

     “Good thing rescuing you is my second favorite activity.”

     “Second favorite?”

     “Yeah,” he murmured against the curve of your neck, “Let me show you the front runner.”

     Before long, Sam had swept you away in a haze with his deft fingers and clever tongue.  The title of Hero that you bestowed on him became a running joke through the years and then a loving nickname.  But that didn’t make it any less true.  He’d always been a hero, and now he was yours. TAGLIST @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsurdity @starryeyeseunbyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetryy @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witchly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @panicking-outside-the-disco @haylie-spnfam4evr @lauraashley93 @foxyjwls007 @bluedragonflylady @foxyjwls007

[jasmines-library]

Hey I don't know if you've ever done a Winchester!sister story with the sister being really young and also much younger then her brothers, so I don't know if you would be able to do this request for me but I really hope you can:)

Anyway the request is 2 year old reader wakes her brothers up by crying and they get up and find her in her crib her onsie pajamas buttons is open as if she tried to get rid of it and then when Dean picks her up he feels the heat radiating from her.

Both Dean and Sam know they have to take care of the situation. Dean takes her temperature, and they find out she is sick and they take care of her and so on and so on. This is just a type of summary so you can change things as much as you like. I love a good fluff and angst story;)

Loveee your writing and can't wait for this story❤️❤️❤️

Sick Bug

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Summary: When you wake up feeling sick, your big brothers are there to help make you feel better.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Sickness

Exciting sidenote: I am 2 followers away from 1K!!

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You were crying again. Poor baby had been restless all day, tossing and turning as if you were trying to escape a force that wasn’t there. At first your brothers thought you were just over tired: the three of you had been on the road all day. Travelling with a toddler was dangerous business, so Sam and Dean tried not to do it often, but with Cas MIA and Bobby out of town they were left with no choice.

They had lay you down to rest not too long ago, but you had been restless since then. You had protested being put to bed in the first place, clinging to Dean with your little hands but after some coaxing he had managed to get you to sleep. That and you were absolutely exhausted and struggling to keep your little eyes open.

Then your eyes had come flying open and your little whimpers filled the room. You were too hot and felt like you were going to suffocate as your squirmed, trying your unbutton your pyjamas. Your head ached and your sinuses were uncomfortably blocked, throwing you off balance.

Dean rose slowly from his slumber, altered by your cries. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he made his way to your crib where you were sat up trying to struggle out of your onesie. Sam rolled over to glance at your from his bed. He hadn’t really been sleeping, but seeing as Dean had made his way over to you he didn’t feel the need to.

“What’s the matter, huh sweetheart?” Dean frowned as he reached out to pick you up. Your arms reached out instinctively to grab him as you continued to cry.

The second you were in Deans arms he became increasingly worried about the warmth that radiated off of you and he shot a look to Sam who, at his brothers concerning lack of speech, clambered out of bed and moved cumbersomely towards you.

You buried your face into the crook of Deans’s neck trying to hide from the ache. His skin provided some relief and you sniffled. Dean further furrowed his brow. Your skin was hot. Too hot.

“Sweetheart?” Dean tried to coax your face away from his neck. He brushed away the stray hairs that your cold flush of sweat had plastered to the edge of your face before pressing his palm to your forehead. “She’s warm, Sammy.”

“You feeling poorly, kiddo?” Sam asked, taking you from Deans arms. You clung to him closely and nodded feebly.

Dean moved quickly towards the first aid kit, rummaging around for the thermometer as Sam bounced you up and down gently in his arms to try and soothe you a little. The eldest Winchester’s movements were somewhat panicked as he pulled out the glass cylinder.

“Alrighty sweetheart, open up.” He tried to persuade you to place the tube under your tongue. When you finally stopped trying to turn your tired face away and they had convinced you to hold it in your mouth for long enough, Sam pulled out to reveal that the line had skyrocketed to 101.

“Fever.” Sam confirmed, showing his brother the thermometer. He shifted you in his arms. “Explains why she can’t sleep.”

Suddenly you were overtaken by a fit of harsh, dry coughs that tore through you. Sam winced, rubbing you back gently.

“S’mmy…” you blubbered gripping his shirt tightly.

“Shh. It’s alright sweetheart we’ve got you.” Sammy moved over to the bed, still cradling you in his arms. He looked up at Dean. Realistically he knew that you would be fine, but he had never dealt with anything like this before and it worried him.

Dean on the other hand knew how to handle the situation. He had dealt with Sammy being ill plenty of times when he was younger. But when he looked at your flushed and sweaty cheeks and the way your body shivered ever so slightly, he couldn’t help but feel awful. As though he should have found someone to take care of you instead. But watching you curled up in his brother’s arms he realised he had more pressing matters to worry about.

Moving back to the first aid box, he pulled out a dose of medicine, cursing silently when you were overrun by another coughing fit. It was followed by another whimper. Sam slowly removed the outer layer of your onesie hoping that he could cool you down quicker. Still you clung to him closely, too young to understand that you might get him sick as you sniffled against him, but Sam didn’t care. He would risk being sick if it meant taking away your pain.

“Here we go sweetheart.” Dean wandered back over, a cool glass of water on one hand and a medicine in the other: one of those small sachets that they kept on hand in case of emergencies. “This will help you feel all better.” He promised.

Reaching out you held onto the cup, and with Deans help took a few sips. The icy water soothed the back of your throat and you sighed in content, setting back into Sam a little. It took a little more convincing for you to take the medicine. Tired and overwhelmed you had tried to refuse the bitter taste. But in the end Sam had promised you that you would feel much better if you took it, so reluctantly you let the liquid slide over your tongue.

It wasn’t long after that that you began to grow tired. Your little eyes struggled to stay awake as you lay curled up in Sam’s lap. Dean had perched beside him, watching shitty cartoons to help keep him awake so he could monitor your temperature in case you got any worse. Though as your ragged breaths evened out into tiny half-snores, the medicine seemed to be doing its job as your temperature seemed to slowly fall back down to a slightly more normal number.

At some point, Sam had also fallen asleep. Rubbing circles on your back and smoothing over your hair had lulled him into slumber. Dean smirked and pulled the bedcovers over the two of you. It looked like you weren’t going back to your bed tonight.

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SPN TAGS:

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[creative-caramel-coffee]

Heyy, Can I ask you to write something with wandanat x reader where reader has a panic attack so strong that her girlfriends needs to take her to the shower because they are scared for her and they have to take her down from her panic attack? (like she has something like an heart condition so…)

Probably Panicking

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: R falls victim to a prank gone wrong.

TW: non-sexual nudity, panic attack, hyperventilating, spiders, past trauma (mentioned/ implied), trapped/locked in a room (100% needs a warning trust me)

A/n hope you like it :)

There was nothing funny about the prank. At least not to you. Yelena and Sam were always a problematic combination at the best of times but lately the pranks have been getting a bit much, so you had been hiding out in your room. Trying your best not to be their next victim. But of course your lack of presence in the tower had drawn Tony’s attention at breakfast, and he had immediately regretted it when he saw the looks on the prank masters faces.

You had been happily snuggled up in bed watching tv and munching on the bowl of cereal wanda had brought you before she went to training and Nat was off on a run seeings it was Wednesday.

So it came as a surprise when the door to your room opened. Yelena was stood there grinning like a madman. Suddenly she tossed a handful of animatronic spiders into the room and shut the door. Normally this wouldn’t bother you and you would just leave, so you stood careful not to stand on any of Tony’s little side projects he loved so much. You made your way over to the door and tried the handle. It didn’t budge. Feeling your heart beat faster you tried it again. The sound of them laughing on the other side of the door was echoing through your skull. Banging on the door you yelled at them to let you out. There was no response. Turning around you threw your shoulder at the door, it didn’t move. Defeated you slide your back down the door as your breathing began to pick up.

The room was cold. Too cold for the summer heat you were sure had been there moments before. You knew this coldness. This was hydra, but not. You were back there again, but you weren’t. You knew you were in your room but part of you was screaming to run to hide that they were coming. You were locked up again. You choked down a scream that began to press your lungs. Your breathing was fast an ragged, too short and yet it felt like no real air was entering your lungs at all.

“Y/n?” Yelena calls through the door, your silence worrying her. “Y/n/n? Can i come in?” She asks starting to worry, if she broke you Nat and Wanda would have her head. “If i come in you better have clothes on.” She joked. There was a still no reply. Before she could open the door she heard someone clear their throat behind her. Yelena froze.

“Yel what are you doing?” Nat asked hands on her hips.

“I swear it was just a harmless prank.” Yelena said.

“What was harmless prank.” Nat grits out slowly.

“We just put fake spiders in there and held the door shut.” Sam said shuffling around a bit.

“YOU HELD THE DOOR SHUT?!” Nat screamed

“And now she’s not responding.” Yelena whispered quietly.

“Move. Now.” Nat said pushing her sister out of the way. Carefully she opened the door. When she saw you pressed against the wall rocking back and forth with your head between your knees, she swore. Every part of her wanted to rush to you, but she knew that would make it worse. Slowly she walked over and pulled you into her arms.

The door opened slightly as two faces peered in, using her foot nat slammed the door still angry, she felt you flinch in her arms.

“Shh shhh shhh its ok, baby i need you to breathe with me. Come on.” She used her hand to guide your palm to her chest to feel her heart. Exaggerating her breathing to help you.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes Ms Romanoff.”

“Get wanda up here now.”

“Right away Ms. Romanoff.”

She held you tight trying to ground your shaking form as you continued to struggle to breathe. You were beginning to feel light headed. As if you could float away. Unsure of how much time had passed you heard wanda enter.

“Nat what happened?” She asked rushing to your side.

“My stupid sister locked her in our room as a prank.” She said still trying to slow your breathing.

“Baby. Y/n/n sweetheart i need you to breathe with me.” Wanda said. Tears were streaming down your face as wanda brushed them away with her thumb.

“Shit. Its not working, do you think you can carry her to the shower nat or do you want me to?”

“The shower?” Nat asked screwing up her face.

“Yes. It should help bring her out of it and ground her.” Wanda explained “it worked for my brother when he was like this.”

“Ok if you think it will help. I could also use one myself that run was pretty intense.”

Carefully they scooped you up, wanda used her magic to help remove your clothes and nat took off her running gear.

Holding you in her arms Nat turned on the water and you shivered as it hit your skin. You felt yourself begin to calm down.

“That’s it baby. Breathe. Just like that. Such a good girl. Your doing so well my love.” Nat cooed running her hands through your wet hair.

After a few more minutes your breathing was under control and you smiled weakly at nat.

After the shower wanda dried you off with a big fluffy towel wrapping you in your comfort clothes and carrying you over to the bed. You were still shaking slightly as you nuzzled into her side.

“Go to sleep love you must be exhausted.” Wanda said, running her hands through your hair.

“Where’s natty?” You asked half asleep.

“I think she went to talk to Yelena. Don’t worry they wont be bothering you again.”

“Don’t let her be too mean she didn’t know.” You said with your eyes closed.

“Yes but she made you feel bad and Natty’s gonna make sure she learns a lesson and doesn’t ever have it happen again my sweet. Go to sleep and don’t worry about it.”

“Ok.” You said too tired to fully process or protest what was happening.

Wanda smiled to herself as you dozed off and she heard yelling down the hall.

“You know she was at hydra honestly could you be more oblivious some times Sestra”

Wanda chuckled, knowing you needed her more she stayed by your side. Just like she promised she would. Whilst nat defended you and wanda kept you safe you knew life would be ok.

MASTERLIST

[lesbianpepsi]

Hi can you write about taking care of Sam when she sick and just fluff

hello honey, of course i can write a lil sick fic, especially if it's for Sam

I adore you, can't you see you're meant for me?

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Fem!reader

Request: Taking care of Sam whiles she's sick

Words: 1.863k

Warnings: sam having the cold? bad writing

—————————————————————

"I can't come over, I'm sick." Sam grumbled through the phone along with a few coughs.

You giggled at her words. "Boo, you whore." You replied thinking Sam was only trying to quote the iconic line from the iconic film, Mean Girls.

More harsh coughs were heard through the phone which slightly alarmed you since- no offence to your girlfriend- she wasn't the best at acting.

"What? Why are you calling me a whore?" Your eyes widened as you noticed Sam was in fact not quoting Mean Girls. "Wait, you're actually sick?"

"Why else would I say I'm sick?" The nasally sounding Carpenter sister questioned sounding confused.

"Oh shit I'm so sorry, Sam. I thought you were- you know what never mind. I'm coming over now." You said briskly as you put the call on speaker mode, rushing to put your converses on.

"You don't have to come over, it's fine." Sam said to which you shook your head at, as if she could see you. "I'll be over in ten." You told her as you finished tying your shoes, running over to grab your phone, wallet and keys before walking out of the door.

"You live thirty minutes away."

"I'll be there in ten."

—————————————————————

You somehow managed to arrive at Sam's and Tara's apartment in ten minutes and with a bag full of items.

Knocking on the door three times to announce your arrival you opened the door and walked in.

Tara was sat on the couch with the Babadook playing on the Tv, she turned her head to look at you, giving you a smile. You gave Tara a little wave with your free hand as you swiftly closed the door.

"Hey Y/n, Sam's in her room." She told you to which you smiled appreciatively at. "Hey Tara. How've you been?" You asked as you walked over to stand behind the couch, looking down at Tara.

She shrugged her shoulders weakly. "Alright, thanks for asking. I'm feeling much better than I was a few days ago."

"You were sick too?" You asked her. She nodded her head. "Unfortunately. Mindy had a bad cold and she gave it to me, and every time I get sick Sam also gets sick. So now she's rotting away in her bed."

You chucked at the thought of Mindy passing her cold to everyone in the group, thankfully you hadn't gotten it yet.

"Sibling connection." You teased before you glanced towards Sam's door. Tara giggled nodding her head, it was truly an annoying connection.

You began to walk over to Sam's room before you abruptly stopped and shoved your hand into the bag, pulling out a bottle of Cherry Coke and a small box of Nerds as you turned back to look at Tara.

"I almost forgot." You said making Tara turn to look back at you. Her eyes glanced at your hands and her eyes widened with excitement. You tossed over the drink and sweets that Tara horribly failed to catch.

"Thank you!" She yelled out in a sing song voice already opening the Nerds to get a handful. You laughed as you continued your original plan to walk towards Sam's door.

You gave it a gentle knock before walking inside. The room was utterly void of any light other than some of the light peeking through her curtains.

"Sammy, you alive?" You joked lightly as you walked over to the curtained window, pulling them apart only a bit to allow more light inside so you could actually see your girlfriend.

Sam grumbled as she shuffled around in her bed. "Barley." She said in a raspy nasally voice that made you sigh, she sounded really sick.

Kicking off your shoes you moved to sit by Sam on the bed. The sick girl turned away from you hiding her face in the pillows.

"I don't want you also getting sick." She mumbled as she let out a heavy breath. You pushed yourself closer to Sam as you placed the bag on your lap, searching through it for specific items.

"Well I'm here now and I'm not leaving until you're back to your non-sick self." Sam grudgingly rolled over with her face landing softly against your elbow.

You shuffled further down until Sam could lay her head on your shoulder. Turning your head to look at her you noticed she looked really ill.

Darker bags than usual were laying under her eyes, the end of her nose and the skin around her nose red from having to use a tissue so often, she was also boiling. Even through your hoodie you could feel the heat radiating off of Sam.

"Oh baby." You whispered with sympathy, Sam groaned next to you. "Don't pity me."

You rolled your eyes at her stubbornness. From the bag you pulled out a myriad of items: a packet of Ibuprofen, a box including sachets of cinnamon tea (Sam's favourite), a packet of tissues, a bottle of cold water and of course some soup.

"Have you taken any pills today?" You asked her to which Sam shook her head 'no'. You passed over the pack of Ibuprofen along with the bottle of water. "Take two now and then in a few hours if you've still got sore thighs you can have another two."

"How'd you even know my thighs hurt?" Sam asked pulling away from you to sit up on the bed, her back now against the headboard.

You copied her movement as you watched her take out two pills from the packet.

"Every time you're sick your thighs always hurt, I remember you telling me." You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sam's eyes gazed at you as she popped the pills in her mouth before taking a large sip of the water. She swallowed it after a few seconds and kept the bottle on the bedside table.

She coughed once as she nodded her head, giving you a smile. "Thank you." You smiled sweetly at her as you grabbed her hand, interlocking your fingers with a gentle squeeze.

"How about I go make you some soup and some cinnamon tea then we can watch anything you want." You suggested as you picked up the tomato soup can with your free hand, a bit basic but it was Sam's favourite.

She nodded her head slowly at your words, smiling weakly. "Yes please." She croaked out in a nasally voice.

You gave a curt nod before getting out of the bed, Sam let out a low groan as you dropped your interlocked hands.

"I'll be quick, you pick a show or movie while I make you your soup okay?" You said as you manoeuvred your hoodie off your body, dropping it in the floor.

"Fine." Sam exaggerated. You smiled at her once more before grabbing the box full of sachets and tin once again before leaving the room.

It didn't take long until you were back by Sam's side with a bowl of tomato soup, a small plate of toast and one cinnamon tea for Sam.

(While you were gone Sam had put on your hoodie which made your heart soar at the sight)

"You're the best." Sam thanked as she took the bowl from your hands, taking a small spoonful to which me moaned in satisfaction at the taste.

You beamed with pride as you moved closer to Sam's side until your shoulders and thighs were touching.

"Did you choose what you want to watch?" You asked her as you stole a toast off the plate on her lap. "Don't you dare get crumbs in my bed." Sam threatened as she turned to give you a serious look.

You sighed leaving the bed to stand up as you ate your toast. "What movie or show?" You repeated with a mouthful of toast.

"What's that tv show you keep watching when I'm at yours?" Sam questioned back as she took another spoonful of the soup.

"Brooklyn Nine Nine?"

"No I don't think so."

"Schitts Creek?" You guessed again.

Sam shook her head 'no.' "Derry Girls?" You asked in a more hopeful tone as you took one final bite of your toast.

"No, it's not a sitcom."

Dusting off the crumbs on your shirt you went to sit next to Sam again. "The End Of The Fucking World? Hannibal?" You tried again.

"Is the main character a Russian blonde woman?"

Your eyes widened as you finally figured out what show Sam was talking about. "Killing Eve?"

"Killing Eve, that's the name. Yeah Killing Eve." Sam confirmed as she took her own slice of toast dipping it into the soup. You grinned with satisfaction as you grabbed the TV remote, logging into Netflix to find Killing Eve.

"You know if you just said that in the beginning I would've guessed it a lot faster." Sam rolled her eyes as she took a bite of the toast.

As the opening scene to the first episode played Sam had enough of her food for now and placed them on top of the bed side table. Replacing the bowl and plate with her cup of tea.

You felt Sam move closer to you as she leaned her head on your shoulder, one hand holding the hot cup of tea and the other laying on your leg.

Wrapping an around her waist Sam relaxed even further into the touch. Sam was usually the one wrapping an arm around you, or usually being the big spoon, but when she's sick she settles for allowing you to be the bigger spoon.

"You're the best girlfriend ever." Sam said as she took another slow sip of her cinnamon tea, the smell wavered into your nose.

You chuckled at the compliment. "I know right." Sam rolled her eyes playfully as she took another careful sip of her tea.

"I take back my statement." She threatens with seriousness, you gasped dramatically as you placed a hand on your chest. "Oh how you wound me, my love." You say playing into the dramatics.

Sam laughed in a dry tone which still managed to make your heart skip a beat at the sound.

"Fine I'll take it back, just because I love you."

"I knew our love would conquer all."

The two of you stayed in comfortable silence till the end of the first episode of Killing Eve.

Sam had finished her tea and was fully cuddling into you at that point, making you pass her the bottle of water every now and again.

As you pressed play for the next episode Sam spoke up. "Thank you for coming over and taking care of me."

You smiled warmly as you kissed Sam's forehead, the skin cooled down a bit compared to how hot it was earlier.

"It's my duty as your girlfriend, Sam. You don't need to thank me." You reassured her as she let out a hum.

"Still, thank you." She said as you felt her press a featherlight kiss to your neck. You beamed with love at the contact, your smile somehow widening.

"I love you so much, Sammy."

Sam rolled her eyes at the nickname as a smile of her own played on her lips. "I love you so much more, Y/n."

[hunterscabin]

Fever

Request: Hi! I love your writing :). Could you write one where the reader has a really high fever, increased heart rate (like Sam in the one episode) and the brothers have to bring it down and take care of her. - Anonymous

Pairings: Dean x Reader; Sam x Reader

Warnings: Sick reader; hurt/comfort; fluff; the tiniest pinch of angsty Sam 

Word Count: 1.8k

"Is she getting ready for a hunt or a date?" Dean paced in front of the Impala while fiddling with his gun. "These werewolves aren't gonna kill themselves."

Sam let out a soft chuckle. Dean wasn't a patient man, but he had a particularly hard time waiting on you. "I'll go see what's taking her so long."

"Y/N?" Sam called for you down the hallway. "Dean's getting antsy." He reached your room and knocked loudly. "Normally I'd enjoy watching him squirm, but we've got a head start on this pack. We should really get going."

When you didn't respond, Sam checked to see if the door was locked. It wasn't, so he nudged his way in to find you buried under your covers. "Y/N! What are you still doing in bed?"

You turned your head toward the door with a groan. Sam's tone softened when he saw your complexion.  

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, walking toward your bed.

"I think it's the flu." The simple act of rolling over had the room spinning, and you squeezed your eyes shut to quell the nausea.

Sam moved his hand to your forehead and was surprised by how warm you felt. "You're burning up."

"I don't think I'm going to be much help today."

Sam knelt down to see his own puppy dog eyes looking back at him. He rubbed his thumb across your forehead and gave you a sympathetic smile. "I'll be right back."

Sam returned with a glass of water and some cold medicine. He helped you sit up and handed you two small pills. You took them quickly and set the glass of water on your nightstand.

"Dean's gonna be pissed," you remarked nervously, as you nestled back into your mountain of pillows.

"Don't worry about Dean," he assured, tucking you in. "I’ll take care of him.”

You watched through hazy eyes as Sam disappeared into the bathroom to wet a washcloth. He came back, crouching next to the bed, and placed the cool towel on your forehead. You sighed at the small relief it provided.   

“We should be back in a few hours.” Sam picked up your phone from the nightstand and gave it a wave before placing it next to your pillow. “Call if you need anything"

You responded with a weak smile. Sam switched off your lamp and stood to leave. He turned back as s he closed your bedroom door and saw that you were already sleeping. 

"I'm gonna get cleaned up and then check on Y/N." Sam dropped his muddy boots by the door.

"Tell her she missed a good one." Both men were covered in the evidence of their successful hunt. “Let me know if I can get her anything.” Dean gave his brother a hearty clap on the shoulder and turned to his bedroom. 

A quick shower and a clean pair of clothes later, Sam was outside your room. Not bothering to knock, he pushed the door open and leaned against the frame.

"Feeling any better, Y/N/N?" Sam whispered. When you didn't say anything, he tried again, raising his voice. "Y/N/N?" 

Growing concerned at your silence, Sam moved into your room, his long legs closing the distance between you in three easy strides. When he reached the bedside table, he turned on the lamp. In the light, he could see a thin layer of sweat covering your face and neck. 

"Y/N." Sam lifted his hand to your forehead and was alarmed to find that your fever had worsened. When you didn't so much as stir at his touch, Sam started to vigorously rub your arm. "Y/N/N!"

Sam placed his fingers on your neck. Your heart rate was rapid, and in checking your pulse, he noticed your breathing was shallow. He tried to rouse you once more and when you still didn’t respond, panic rolled through him in waves.

“Dean!”

Dean had just shrugged a clean flannel over his shoulders when he heard Sam yell his name from the other side of the bunker. He immediately took off, haphazardly fastening buttons as he ran down the hallway. Dean heard his name a second time and followed his brother’s voice to your room. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of Sam hovered over you, trying to shake you into consciousness.

"She won't wake up." Sam's voice lilted in fear. 

Dean marched toward the bed, moving Sam aside. He cupped your cheek and winced at the heat radiating off of you.

"Y/N!" Dean shouted gruffly. He knew his attempt was in vain, but he was still heartbroken when you didn't respond.   

"Sammy, we have to get her fever down." Dean pressed two fingers to your neck, confirming what Sam already knew. "Her heart rate is way too high."

Dean ran through their limited options before instructing Sam to run a bath. Sam darted toward your bathroom without question.

"Not too hot, not too cold." Dean instructed at the sound of running water. 

"I've got it, Dean." Sam’s tone was strained and agitated. 

Dean pulled off your covers. The cool air hitting your damp skin was enough to stir you into a state of semi-consciousness. You let out a long moan. 

“Y/N?” Dean held your face in his hands, willing your eyes to open. 

You leaned into his touch but could only respond with another whimper. Dean sighed in defeat. 

“I’m right here, Y/N/N.” Dean soothed, gathering you in his arms. “I’ve got you.”

When Dean entered the bathroom, Sam quirked his head in apology. Dean nodded knowingly; whenever you were hurt or in pain, they were both on edge.  

You let out another groan and Sam immediately stood to check you. 

"Is she awake?"

"Barely." Dean shifted you in his arms and motioned for Sam to take you. 

Not wanting to embarrass or expose you, the brothers kept you in the tank top and sleep shorts you were wearing. Dean cuffed his jeans and straddled the side of the bathtub, one foot submerged in the water and the other securely planted on the tile floor. Once his brother was positioned, Sam gently lowered you into the tub. Dean leaned forward to help support you.

As soon as your body made contact with the water, your teeth began chattering and your intermittent whimpers became a steady cry. Both brothers could feel your body tense, and they grew concerned about your already racing heart. 

“You’re okay, Y/N/N.” Sam palmed your cheek. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

It felt like someone had replaced your eyelids with steel doors, and the energy it took to try and open them made you nauseous. When your Y/E/C eyes finally appeared, they were met with Sam’s relieved face.

“Hi, baby girl.” Keeping his eyes on you, Sam took his hand from your cheek and grabbed a washcloth. He dipped it in the lukewarm water before wringing it out with both hands.

You were becoming more alert with each passing moment, and seeing Sam at the other end of the bathtub made you realize that he wasn’t the one keeping you upright. In any other instance you would have immediately assumed Dean was behind you, but the fever had made you incoherent, and your normal instincts were inaccessible. Anxiety swept through you at the thought of being held by a stranger in your vulnerable state, and you began to fight against Dean.

Sam saw you crane your neck to see who was behind you and understood your confusion.

“Y/N,” he dropped the washcloth and grabbed your hands, “Y/N/N, look at me. You’re okay. It’s Dean.” 

“It’s me, sweetheart.” Dean shifted so that you could see him. “It’s just me.”

It took you a moment to register Dean’s face, but once you knew it was him, you let out a shaky breath and relaxed into his arms. 

“That’s my girl.” Dean leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, relieved to feel that your feverish skin was cooling. “I’ve got you.”

Sam grabbed the floating washcloth and ran it over your face and arms. He stopped momentarily to check your pulse. The steady beat of your heart on his fingertips reassured him, and he nodded to Dean that the bath was helping. 

Once he was satisfied with your temperature, Dean lifted you out of the tub and placed you in his brother’s arms. Sam wrapped you in a warm towel and held you close before sitting you on the stool in front of your vanity. 

"Y/N?" Your tired eyes met his. "Do you think you can get yourself out of these wet clothes?"

You mumbled incoherently but found the strength to pull yourself to your feet. You gripped the counter top, and Sam helped steady you while you found your balance. 

"I'm going to hang your robe on the door." Sam closed the door and stood vigilant on the other side, ready to charge back in at the first sign of any distress. 

Gravity’s hold prayed on your weakened state, and every step, every reach was painfully exhausting. Time felt as languid as your movement, but after much effort, your wet clothes laid in a heap on the floor, and you had almost successfully wrapped yourself in your robe.

Thinking you had been quiet for too long, Sam knocked on the bathroom door, and you gave a small hum, letting him know he could enter. He opened the door to find you fumbling with the terry cloth belt.  

"Let me help, Y/N/N." His voice was soft and comforting. Once he secured the knot, he lifted you in his arms and carried you back into your room. 

Your head lolled to find Dean tucking clean sheets under the mattress. He smiled at the sight of you in Sam's arms, snuggled in your fluffy robe. 

"Thank you, Dean." you murmured. 

"Anytime." Dean winked as he pulled back the comforter, and Sam sat you on the edge of the bed. Dean handed Sam two small pills and a fresh glass of water. You took the medicine from Sam's hand, and he brought the water to your lips. 

A shiver ran through your body, and Sam lifted the collar of your robe before easing you onto your pillow and pulling the covers over you.

“Sammy?” Sam smiled, thankful that you’d regained enough strength to speak. “Stay, please.”

“Of course.” Sam brushed the hair away from your face and dropped a kiss on the top of your head before moving to sit in your reading chair.

“You too, De.”

“I’m right here, sweetheart.” Dean sat down on the trunk at the end of your bed and reached up to rub your leg.  

Their comforting presence allowed you to relax, and you quickly surrendered to sleep. No illness could compete with the love of Sam and Dean Winchester.

Masterlist

[stardust-goddess]

Covid Sucks

Dean Winchester x Sick! Reader

Summary: Reader has covid and Dean takes care of her.

A/N: The universe might be out to get me or looking out for me by giving me covid the day after my birthday lol. Since I’ve been stuck in bed I decided to write this up. I apologize if it isn’t as good as usual, I’m still not feeling that great. Thank you as always for the support,likes, reblogs, etc. it means so much to me. Enjoy💕

Warnings: Should be mostly fluff. Mentions of being sick and covid.

You really didn’t think anything of it at first. You had always had seasonal allergies, especially when the temperature liked to change from hot to cold and back in the span of days. When you woke up this morning with congestion and a slightly scratchy throat, you chalked it up to just that. You had been in the bunker all day, specifically in the library. You hadn’t been a hunter for as long as the boys have, so you tried your best to research when you could on all the different supernatural creatures out there.

As the day progressed, you started feeling a little worse. By dinner time, you were starting to think that maybe it was more then just allergies. In addition to your congestion and sore throat you now had a headache, body aches, and chills. Rubbing your hands up and down your arms discreetly to try and get some warmth, you knew the boys would notice soon, especially Dean. You and Dean had only been dating for a few months, but he was very attentive and good at reading you. You had always been a little sensitive anyway, having trouble masking your emotions. You were pretty much an open book, and Dean knew you very well. You hated getting sick, and you hated worrying Dean, but you knew that once he noticed there was no trying to hide it.

Eating small bites of your dinner, you are vaguely aware of the conversation the boys are having about a possible hunt. Feeling a little out of it, you don’t realize right away that Sam is trying to get your attention.

“Y/N, you ok?” Sam looks at you confused and a little concerned.

“Sorry, yea must of zoned out. What did you say?” You replied, trying to sound more cheerful. But you knew it was only a matter of time before you were caught. Dean’s eyes zeroed in on you, giving you a once over as you answered Sam’s question. You looked a little paler then usual, the skin not covered by your t-shirt and pants covered in goosebumps. Every now and then you’d give a little sniff that sounded like you were trying to clear your sinuses.

“You feeling alright baby” Dean speaks up, watching you carefully.

You tensed slightly, yup you were caught. But in your foggy headspace you still tried to cover it up.

“Yea my allergies have been bugging me today, but other then that I’m good.”

“Allergies huh?” Dean says in disbelief. He gives you a no nonsense look before leaning over placing his lips on your forehead for a minute before leaning back “Do your allergies usually give you a fever? You’re warm.” Dean said with a look of concern. Slumping in defeat you let out a small sigh that makes your breath catch and causes a cough. Quickly turning away to cough in the crook of your elbow, Deans suspicions are confirmed.

“Ok so I might be getting sick, but I’m sure it’s just a cold or something.”

Standing up Dean takes your hand and helps you stand, before guiding you to the bathroom. Sam following along behind. Dean flicks the light on and has you sit on the closed toilet seat, rummaging through the medicine cabinet. Sam leans up against the door to watch. Grabbing the thermometer Dean turns to you, gesturing for you to open your mouth. You do so and Dean gently places the thermometer under your tongue. Muffled you try to speak.

“Guys I’m sure it’s nothing, really-“

“Baby stop, don’t jostle the thermometer” Dean says, cutting you off and giving you an exasperated look. Pleading with his eyes to let him help you.

Defeated you sit quietly. You knew he was doing all of this because he cared, you just didn’t want to be a bother. Finally hearing the little beep, Dean grabs the thermometer and looks at the digital screen.

“100.5, let’s make sure it doesn’t get any higher.” Turning back to the medicine cabinet, Dean grabs the bottle of ibuprofen. Shaking two in his hand he passes them along to you, grabbing a glass of water for you as well. Crouching down in front of you Dean watches as you take the medicine. When your finished, he moves the glass on the counter for you and then places a hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles.

“What are you feeling right now baby?” Dean hated when you got sick. He was already protective of you, and you being sick increased that feeling tenfold.

Not trying to hide it any longer you reply. “I feel cold, my head and body hurts on and off, I feel congested, and just gross all around.” Raising two of your fingers to your temple when you start to feel the ache come back, you rub at it gently. A slight look of discomfort takes over your face, that doesn’t go unnoticed by Dean. Replacing your hand with his, Dean takes over rubbing before turning to look at Sam in the doorway.

“What do you think Sammy?”

“Sounds like covid to me. The store in town should still be open, I can run and get some tests to make sure.”

Groaning you slump forward pressing your forehead against Dean’s shoulder. “Covid sucks.”You whine. You hated this. Dean holds in a chuckle at your outburst. Even when you were sick you were still adorable.

“Alright, come on let’s get you into bed while we wait for Sammy.”

After getting you settled, Dean sits next to you. Grabbing your hand and running his thumb along your knuckles. Deciding to ask the question that had been on his mind.

“Y/N? Why did you try to hide this? This could’ve ended up being so much worse if left unchecked. You’re health is important and I don’t want anything to happen to you”

You looked at Dean, seeing deep concern in his eyes. “I just hate worrying you and having you take care of me like I’m a child or something. When I woke up this morning I really did think it was my allergies, but I just felt worse as the day went on. I figured I could just handle it on my own. I’m sorry if I made you mad.” You look down at your lap, embarrassed that you tried to lie.

Tilting your chin up so you’re looking back at him, Dean tucks some hair behind your ear that fell forward when you looked down.

���I’m not mad baby, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to hide things from me. I know I’m not the best at that myself, but I’m trying. You are never a bother to me and I don’t want you to have to go through things by yourself. You, your health, and your happiness are my priority. You can tell me anything and everything and I’ll always be there to help you. I love you and I’m not going to be mad or annoyed if you need me.”

You feel your eyes well up at his sweet words. He may not have always expressed it but you knew deep down he was a nurturing person. That was one of many reasons as to why you loved him. He had such a good heart.

Wrapping your arms around him you burrow your head into the crook of his neck. “I love you, Dean. You’re my priority too.” Wrapping his arms around your waist Dean pulls you into his lap, making sure your comfortable. He kisses your temple then places his chin on your head. Holding you close as you continue to wait for Sam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After taking a test it was confirmed, you had covid. Dean had already gotten it a few months prior, luckily before you were dating so you were safe back then. Since you were dating now and sharing a room, there was no issue with him being in bed with you and taking care of you. Sam however hadn’t gotten it previously, which meant you were confined to your bedroom. You knew you were going to be bored, but you didn’t want to risk Sam getting sick and knew that this was necessary. Dean had also made it clear that he wasn’t going leave you alone, so at least you had him to keep you company.

Waking up the next morning, you let out a little groan. You felt worse then yesterday. There didn’t seem to be any new symptoms, but you’re current ones felt more intense. Trying to get more comfortable you take note that your by yourself, Dean’s side of the bed cold. He must’ve gotten up before you. Slowly pulling yourself up you lean against the headboard. Cradling your head in your hands and rubbing your forehead to ease the intense ache. Hearing the door open you look up, Dean coming into the room with a tray in his hands. Placing the tray on your night table, Dean takes a seat at the edge of the bed on your side facing you.

“Morning baby, how are you feeling”

“Not great, honestly I feel worse then I did yesterday.”

Frowning a little Dean leans over and grabs the thermometer off the tray he brought in. Taking your temperature you wait for the beep.

“101 still not terrible but hopefully it doesn’t get any higher then that.”

Grabbing the ibuprofen next he gives you another dose to take.

“Are you hungry? I made breakfast.”

“A little bit.” You reply slightly surprised that despite all your symptoms you still had an appetite. Dean takes the tray and puts it on your lap, before standing and rounding the bed to go back to his side. You notice two plates of eggs and toast, one for you and one for him.

“Don’t force yourself to eat it all if you don’t feel up to it, but at least eat a little. Do you need me to help you?”

“I can do it, thank you though.” You reply picking up your fork and starting to eat. Satisfied that your ok, Dean grabs his plate and eats as well. You get through about half of your plate before your feeling full. Taking the tray to move it off the bed, Dean beats you to it.

“I got it, let me clean this up and I’ll be right back.”

Watching Dean leave the room you scoot down a little further into the bed. You don’t want to fully lay down due to your full stomach but don’t want to be fully upright either. Entering the room again Dean gets back in the bed pulling you closer and wrapping his arm around you so you can burrow into his side.

“Comfortable?”

You nod against his chest, relaxing into his embrace further when his hand starts rubbing up and down your back.

“Wanna watch a movie?” You nod again and Dean grabs the remote for the TV. Scrolling through the options and settling on your favorite. Dean keeps the volume a little lower then usual so it wouldn’t make your headache worse. You smile at Deans actions “Thank you Dean, I love you.” Dropping a kiss to your forehead Dean gives you a smile in return.

“I love you too baby, now rest up. I’ve got you.”

Relishing in his warmth you felt content. Yea covid sucked, but Dean would be there to make it better.

[messylxve]

I am currently sick, with a stuffy nose and crying over Finnick Odair…again

He’s so pretty it’s not fair 😭

[samandcolbyownme]

can maybe do something with Vampire sam and demon colby

I just recently did one! Love Sick.

If you click on the red, it’ll take you right to it! I can definitely do another but it won’t be for a little bit.

[verxn]

Sick day

Description: you’ve been keeping quiet about you being sick with a little cold you’ve caught because you didn’t want Tom to stop everything he was doing just to take care of you, that is until he still finds you in bed.

Pairing: Tom holland x black fem reader

Note: just another shitty writing :-(

-

Tom woke up and looked around the room, everything seem a bit…off, usually y/n magenta silk bonnet would be on the dresser next to the scarf she puts on before bed, her clothes would be thrown on the end of the bed and there would be 3 pairs of shoes since she can’t seem to decide what to wear.

Tom looked to the side, to see his wife sleeping peacefully, her beautiful dark skin shined because the light shined through the curtains. Her hair was wrapped up or so she thought, her box braids slipped out of the bonnet and scarf. Y/n started to cough in her sleep, it went from small coughs to being awoken up from coughing.

“Hey honey, you okay?” Tom said to his wife while running to her side. She nodded still coughing, she then pointed to the little trash can across the room “hand me that” she said in between the coughs

Tom got up and put the trash in front of his wife as spit in the trash. “Yuck” y/n said putting the trash to the side of the bed “y/n are you sick?” Tom asked rubbing her back “yeah but I’ll be fine in no time, you can continue your work, no need to worry” she said with a weak smile

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, you can barely move” he said with a concerned look painted on his face, she frowned because she knew this would happen. “I’ll be right back” Tom said while grabbing his phone and walking out of the bedroom.

Y/n sighed and laid back down in bed, before she knew it she was gone, Tom walked back in and saw her sleeping quietly. He tucked her in and tried to at least put her braids back in the bonnet so they won’t get messed up.

He kissed y/n’s forehead and exited out the room to make some soup for her.

-

When he was finished he brought the hot bowl of soup and some crackers to her, placing it on the nightstand beside the bed, he tapped her. “Honey wake up, I made soup” he said softly

Y/n sat up groggily and sighed, she rubbed her eyes tiredly and looked at the soup. She grabbed the bowl and started to eat some, she ate half the soup and some crackers.

Then proceeded to lay back down, her husband looked at her while she drifted back to sleep, tom placed the damn near empty soup bowl back on the nightstand and sat down at the end of the bed watching over y/n as she slept peacefully.

-

This song was kinda my inspo….it was literally playing when I was writing this🧍🏾

[thatsgoodsquishy0]

Pairing: F!Reader x Ranger!Sam Coe Rating: M+ Bio: Set during Sam’s younger years working as a Freestar Ranger alongside his wife, Lillian Hart. Whether circumstance, or impossible luck, you're given a second chance at life, ultimately growing close to The Coes. You take a shine to Cora, but the family dynamic is something else entirely, albeit a little overwhelming, as you realize the toll Lillian's absence has taken on the family, but more specifically, her husband. Sam Coe is witty, charming, and ambitious; a man who knows what he wants and stops at nothing to reach his goals, but when his wife seems to prioritize her career over her family, it's hard not to notice the strain growing inside him. Your friendship may be just the support Sam needs, even if the temptations for something more linger, and when your past threatens your future, where will your morals lie? Will you end up back where you started? Chemistry is a cruel mistress chapter i: Bound cross-posted to AO3 credit of course to the lovely @seraaphiel for keeping the Ranger!Sam spirit alive & @cafekitsune for the divider. special thanks to @fangbangerghoul and @bearlytolerant for literally hyping me up every day to write this fic. your endless support and love inspire me more than you know. and THANK YOU to the readers who've enjoyed this journey so far!! <3

i listened to this song from the Red Dead Redemption II soundtrack pretty much on repeat while writing. it fits the vibe of the chapter, and if you'd like a little extra immersion, feel free to play it whilst reading.

ii. MAN OVERBOARD

You stood beneath the torrent of water, your skin gently scalding as you waited for your body to adjust to the temperature. When it did, you sighed and stared at the shower wall, gaze blank. Your hair felt heavy, weighed down by the stream and caked with blood that was slowly breaking away. You looked down at your feet. Grime and gore snaked through the grout of the tile floor, slipping into the holes of the drain, gurgling as steam enveloped the shower.

Minutes passed. You waited for the water to run clear. Streaks of diluted red flowed down your chest, past your stomach, and in between your legs, reaching the bottom. You lifted your hands, eyes glaring at the bracelets of purple and black wrapped around your wrists. You turned your palms towards the ceiling assessing the rest of your injury, only to find your hands trembling; inflamed with anger. A scream simmered in your throat, ready to boil over. Whether the heat of the water or justified wrath seething within, your face reddened and nostrils flared. Your lips curled as you parted them, ready, but then, you drew a steady breath instead; a warning to yourself to behave, be civil, because this was not your space. 

You were a trespasser. 

You quickly grabbed for the nearest shampoo bottle and squeezed a handful into your palm, lathered it up, then rocked your hands back and forth against your scalp. Frothy bubbles of red poured down and settled between your toes. You swiped your foot towards the drain, flicking away the bubbles, splashing your soles against the floor. You shivered as the water devolved to luke-warm, and frantically, you scrubbed your skull raw. You closed your eyes. Rinsed. Grabbed another handful of shampoo. Lathered. Scrubbed. Rinsed. 

By the time you finished, you felt as though the nerves in your wrist might snap. Your vision blurred by a mix of water and tears, your legs buckled as if they were jelly. You slid back against the wall and curled your legs into your chest as you rested your forehead against the fresh bruises on your kneecaps. Underneath the water with your lips locked, you allowed yourself to cry, tears streaming into the rushing cool. If no one heard you, it would be okay. 

You were owed this, and with time, vengeance against him would owe you, too. 

Sam 

The mission was straight and narrow, albeit improvised, but when it came to the badge, Sam was no stranger to unscripted moments. Hell, he enjoyed spontaneity most of the time, but when an innocent’s life entered the picture, there were strict rules he followed – a code to adhere to; be on the same page. Disagreement was a form of arguing, and arguments led to distractions, and distractions got you killed. Sam lounged back in his chair, his feet propped on the desk and arms crossed against his chest as he waited for Lillian to finish her debriefing with the Marshal. He knew this was coming, still he bit the inside of his cheek. He had every right to that conversation, yet she kept him on the sidelines, as if he were a witness, but maybe it was best that way. Lillian’s memory was exceptional and she’d have a thoroughly combed-through report for Marshal Blake, all the while Sam brushed past details he thought were trivial, like what time the ship was ambushed.

But there was nothing in that report about Sam recognizing the rescued woman.

Weeks ago, he was sitting at the bar nursing his second thumbs worth of whiskey, his attempt at unwinding from the day proving idle as he drank. His hat was warm against his head, the beginning thrums of a migraine settling in. He shut his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. Cora was just getting over a fever, which meant she’d spent more than enough time with Jacob. 

He counted — four days. Four days without her. He was stir-crazy, his father’s intuition scratching at his bones as every waking thought flashed to the Coe Estate, little Cora putzing around and Jacob’s manipulative eyes beaming upon her as he planned her entire future. Bet that just got his bastard heart beating with pride thinking she’d carry on the legacy someday -- the dreaded Coe legacy, at least, the one Jacob twisted to fit into his narrative. 

Sam’s lips grimaced against the rim of his glass as he took a sip.

His absence was justified (warranted, at least, by his leaders), but one day without his daughter was tough enough. Four days was agony, and Lillian wasn’t much comfort considering the only conversations they seemed to share were Ranger-related. 

The Rangers could wipe out every single drug lord in the Settled Systems and Sam still wouldn’t sleep a wink – not without twinges of guilt stabbing him through the night.

He signaled for a third glass of amber liquid, and for a fleeting second imagined the opportunities of fatherhood and marriage away from the Freestar Rangers.

As soon as his drink manifested in front of him, he tabled the thought, thanked the bartender, then lifted the edge of the glass to his lips. He took a burning swig, familiar heat landing in his stomach as he wiped his mouth, and then, he saw her; face plastered on the tv screen, a lifted curve to her lips and a gleaming kindness in her eye —  a complete departure from the woman Sam would later carry out of a fried spaceship filled with dead bodies. The camera focused on a plaque sandwiched between her and another adult, some official maybe, outside a storefront.

… but which store was it again?

Sam shook off his recollection, his focus turning to Lillian’s chestnut brown ponytail as it swung to the side as she spoke. Her hip jutted out just a tad; one of the few mannerisms Sam picked up on over the years. His gaze lingered with anticipation, tracing modestly all the ways the ranger’s outfit hugged her body. Some days, he couldn’t believe they were a young married couple fighting the good fight, and other days, it was suspicious; this future he never conceived for himself, laid out by a woman who shared his last name, and was the mother of his child. 

Sam guessed she was wrapping up her conversation; the body cue being a slight turn away from the other Ranger, as if her mind were there, but her body was ready to leave. She caught his stare, but offered little more than a cocked eyebrow and neutral gaze. Sam gifted a smile, teeth and all, to his wife as she traveled closer. 

“Feet down,” Lillian said, her southern drawl popping out. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Sam uncrossed his arms as he sat upright in his chair, adjusted his hat. “So, what’d the Marshal have to say?”

“You’re gonna love this. Turns out that ship we ambushed? Stolen. Reported weeks ago. We’ll have to notify the owner of its condition and locale, which unfortunately means more paperwork on our end.”

“I don’t think they’re gonna want it once we tell’em, well, whatever it is we’re gonna tell’em.”

“That won’t be our problem. Marshal said if that woman was found on that ship alive, chances are she’s involved.”

“You don’t think, wrong place, wrong time? Sort of thing?”

Lillian shook her head. “I get the sick feeling they were keeping her for something.”

“Which means there was some serious illegal shit happenin’ on that ship,” Sam stated, his mind recalling what lined the path to the cockpit; dead bodies, ecliptics, … cases of harvested organs.  

His stomach churned. 

Lillian grabbed a slate from her pocket, pushed a few buttons, then brought the screen closer to Sam.“These were the ship’s last inputted coordinates. I had them downloaded before we left. Once we crack this, we’ll know where they were headed. Hopefully that, plus any information this woman is willing to spill, should give us enough of a lead.”

“You really went the extra mile, Mrs. Coe.” He stood from his chair, closing the distance between them. He traced the outline of her lips, his eyes noting the divot on the top in the middle. He could kiss her now, hell, he wanted to, if not for the active duty reminder on her chest.

“Oh, Sam. I’m just doing my job.”

“And you do it so well,” he replied. 

Her smile beamed, as if that was her favorite compliment to hear from him. Sam leaned his palms against the desk, and dropped his head forward, stretching out his neck. “Should I grab us some Terrabrew?” A longing in his heart guided him closer, practically breathing her own air as the gravel in his voice barely whispered. “Could be a long night.”

“I’m alright, thanks.” She grabbed his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Shouldn’t be a long night if she cooperates,” Lillian said.

Sam’s hands itched to grab her waist, but his restraint knew better. “And if she doesn’t?” 

“Then we’ll have to use oppressive measures.”

He pressed his lips together immediately, words backpedaling against his tongue.“I — um, I thought we weren’t gonna go that route. She’s been through enough, don’t you think?”

“That was before she became a possible suspect, Sam. Don’t go soft on me now.”

“Ain’t going soft on you, but we gotta look at it differently. If we go in there yelling and screaming at her, she’s gonna clam up, then we’ll absolutely get that long night.” 

Lillian paused, grazing over his innuendo as she pursed her lip. “If that’s what you think we should do.”

Instinct nudged at Sam’s subconscious. He’d done this before; hell, he was an expert at this point. The only achievable method towards controlling the unattainable was befriending the impossible; becoming a false ally. The Coe name wouldn’t work in this scenario, he knew that, but the skills collected throughout his years as a rebellious adult taught him a thing or two about word play, specifically, verbal disguise — manipulation. 

“I mean … if that’s what you think would work,” he double checked. “I just think if we get her to trust us, she’ll lay her cards out on the table.”

Lillian cocked her head, arms crossing in front of her chest as she stifled a frown, leaned back against the desk. “It could work, and it could not. We can’t risk this plan failing. What if she refuses to tell us anything at all?”

“She won’t.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Cuz even if she was involved, nearly getting shot by ecliptics wasn’t part of the plan. If we didn’t show up when we did, guns ablazin, she’d be dead.” 

“But how can you be so sure?”

Twice. She disagreed with him twice, now, which was conventional and always came from a place of concern, but even something as routine as administering a trauma pack to a survivor shouldn’t have been a slippery slope, yet the argument steamed up a train of thought that chugged at his brain. Comparatively, Lillian’s motives centered around the heart of what it meant to be a Ranger; Frontier Justice — protecting and preserving the best interests for the Freestar Collective, but her experience with the seedy Underbelly of the black market was only surface level. Sam didn’t write the book when it came to smuggling, but he definitely had his hand in a few chapters. He recognized his talents, beyond piloting a ship. Lillian was due for that reminder. 

Down the hall, the woman waited in the room. Confidence swelled inside his chest. He was capable of making Lillian and The Rangers proud.

He met Lillian’s eyes, speaking directly into them as not only her partner, but her husband as well. 

“Let me talk to her.”

The Ranger’s interrogation room consisted of three gray walls with an accent brick wall mixed in, a table and a chair, and a single two-way mirror. Sam had listened to many culprits inside the square asylum, a place he’d heard justifications ranging from misunderstandings in a bar to cold-blooded murder. Innocent until proven guilty was an old earth law, but credibility lurked within the ancient rule still, even if the Ranger’s didn’t out rightly practice it. He’d give this woman the benefit of the doubt until his morals persuaded him she was liable enough for arrest. 

But that’s if he could get her to speak. 

Lillian’s focal point consisted on cracking the coordinates for the ship’s final landing, as well as finding the owner of the stolen vessel. Sam knew she preferred to have her hands full rather than empty, sometimes taking on more than he thought she could handle, but he respected his wife’s decisions, knowing her ambitions meant new leads for the Rangers to follow, and he snatched up any opportunity to assist where he felt the most helpful. 

A rush of adrenaline pumped through his veins as he took a breath, remembering the mission, remembering what Lillian expected, what The Rangers expected. The door creaked mildly as he pushed it open.

If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought he entered the wrong room. 

She appeared human; a near perfect clone of the woman he’d caught a glimpse of on TV. The air smelt of dust and earth, but there was a trace smell he could only describe as the planetside scent of a descending waterfall. Sam met her anonymous stare, his own nameless as he sat down and cleared his throat.

“Do you remember me?” He asked.

She nodded her head. A flatness to her eyes.

“How are you, uh, feelin?”

“Fine.”

Was she already lying? How could he be so sure? What answer did he expect to hear the moment the question left his lips? He asked out of courtesy, a spark to break the ice, but it felt out of place, like forced small talk, but fact of the matter was she didn’t weep or fold into a blubbering, nonsensical mess, like he predicted.

Strangely, a sense of reverence led Sam forward. 

“Can I get you some water?”

“No.”

Her composure remained as stiff as her back against the wood slats of the chair. Whatever her angle, he had to play his hand logically. Stamp the obvious on the forefront of his brain; she was here for a reason.

“Alright. I’m gonna ask you some questions. I know you’ve been through hell and back, but I need you to answer them honestly, okay? We want whoever did this to you to face severe punishment. I’m sure you want that, too … you do, right?”

In that moment, it was as if the gears stuttered within the mechanism of her brain as her face hid any indication of an answer. Sam waited, greatly anticipating her response, his elbows propped on the table and folded hands inches away from his chin. He tilted his head, and when she still didn’t speak, he verbally poked her. “Ma’am? Do you want justice against the one who did this to you?”

Her face shot up, eyes cold. “I do.”

“Alright then,” he began, leaning forward, his hands dropping onto the table. “We’ll start from the beginning, ease ya into it. What do you remember before the events of last night?” 

Her hardened persistence remained, but he noticed the small lax in her shoulders as she took a breath. Her eyes closed. “I was at my friend’s apartment, just needed a box of my things that I’d forgotten,” she recalled, opening her eyes, her hues connecting to Sam’s. “I couldn’t just leave it there, but I thought about it. I thought about turning around and going back home, but I didn’t.”

“Must have been important to you — whatever was in that box.”

“I – I like to collect old Earth books. Sinclair’s pays me to refurbish them as best I can, and then I donate extra copies around the Settled Systems.”

Sinclair’s. That was the storefront she posed in front of on TV. 

He leaned back against his chair, his cowboy hat tipped gently, shadowing his forehead under luminescent ceiling lights. “My daughter? Loves books. She just goes crazy for them. Of course, she can’t read them yet, but when I read to her, she giggles her little head off.” He offered a lightness in the room, sharing something normal, something friendly, something … definite, as the real questions simmered on the tip of his tongue.  “Did you ever get your books back?”

“No.”

Sam frowned. “I imagine those books took some hard work to find. When this is over, would you like us to help track them down for you?”

She smirked, thinly, neither coy nor aggressive. “You won’t find them. They were jettisoned into space. Besides, it’s not that important.” She averted her eyes. “Not anymore, at least.”

He could hear the subdued ache within her words, but he still wasn’t pushing her enough.   

“How did you find out your things had been scrapped?”

“I just … sort of assumed.”

“You assumed?” Sam repeated.

“Well, I … I really don’t remember.”

“Could you try?”

“I am trying, sir.”

“It’s Sam. Just Sam is fine.”

“Okay, Sam,” she said. “It’s all just … I don’t know. Blurry.”

  “It’s common for foggy gaps in the memory when you’ve gone through … everything you’ve gone through.” He switched directions, like a sly fox cornering his prey. “Those assumptions you felt, they came from somewhere, and you didn’t leave the apartment. Did your friend ever come back?”

“No, I never saw him,” she said, an unusual rise in her vocal tone. 

“If you never saw him and you don’t remember what happened last night, then how did you get on that ship?”  

“Sir — Sam, I – I don’t know –”

“ – cuz that’s a large chunk of time not accounted for, and suddenly you just, don’t remember?”

“Like you said, brain fog and —”

“No, your selective memory’s not adding up, and I’m willing to bet credits you've been lyin’ for some time now.”

“No I’m not lying it’s just — fuck,” her voice cracked on the swear, her hands quick to cradle her head. Sam stared at the deep purple and blue bruises bound around her wrists. His throat burned. He twisted his focus elsewhere. “Look,” she started, “It’s not that I don’t want to help you, okay? I’m just – so fucked.” Her breaths shortened, raspy and thin as her forehead met the table with a thunk, arms barricading her face. 

Inside the small of the room her confession lingered. The air was flexible now, much to Sam’s chagrin, knowing that whatever, or whoever, possessed her to lie to his face still controlled her thoughts even after all the nightmares she endured. 

But lying to a Ranger — that was a punishable offense. 

Muffled sobs clogged the room. An ache of sympathy lumped in Sam’s throat. He knew his duties, abided by them each time he fastened his badge to the uniform, but something about her confession pulled on his judgment. No moments of clarity graced this woman as she continued to wail, her pain amplified by what Sam could only imagine was the threatening fear of fate now that she’d confessed. 

He swallowed. “I, um, uh … well, I appreciate your honesty, and if you could continue to give me that, I’ll … I’ll try and help you as best as I can.” He paused, quickly adding, “I can’t promise anything, but, if you tell me the truth from here on out … you have my word that I will try. Alright?”

She sniffled, her eyes slowly poking out from the crevice of her forearm, cheeks dampened and lips swollen. She considered him with a long pause, and finally, as silence embraced the room again, he watched her sit up. “I don’t know how you could help me.”

“We’re reasonable,” Sam encouraged. “And what we do holds alotta weight, being the law and all.”

“No, you don’t understand. There’s nothing the law can do.”

He stifled a chuckle. “You’d be surprised.”

“I would be, actually, considering — fuck, okay.” She inhaled, long and purposeful, as if bracing herself. “I just don’t know, Sam. I’ve backed myself into a corner here and —”

“Then let me help you get out.” He tugged his body forward, catching uncertainty in her eyes as her gaze shuffled around the room, before finally attaching to his. “What are you scared of?” 

“Everything.”

The room seemed to shrink. A sparseness filling Sam’s lungs as he breathed the gravity of her response, and the strain of it all – organs, murders, human smuggling, unbridled fear. His morals never disobeyed him, but the law … the law had its limits.

The Ranger pored over the suspect sitting across from him, and for a moment, her visage morphed to the woman he regarded on TV. The brightness in her eyes, her strong posture, and a smile that stretched across her face. No blood. No bruises. No tears. 

“You were on SSNN, weren’t you?”

“Yes .. I was.”

“I saw you. In front of a store – Sinclair’s maybe? You were smilin’ and holding a plaque of some kind.”

Her eyes bulged, almost as if she’d forgotten as she touched her throat. “My citizen’s award.”

Sam nodded, a thin smile of respect growing on his lips. “Tell me how you got that.”

“... I traveled to a LIST settlement that specializes in fostering families affected by the Colony War. On my trip back, a reporter for SSNN took a seat next to me and … I guess the rest speaks for itself.”

“That’s really amazing. I’m sure those families really appreciated your doing that.”

She gave a half smile; humble but acknowledged. 

Sam continued, “So, how does someone like you end up mixed in with the garbage of this mess?”

She faintly shrugged, shaking her head. “How do any of us end up in the messes we make?”

“Dumb decisions, not thinking about the consequences, … trusting the wrong people.” Sam observed her cadence, gauging any type of reaction that might reveal the rest of her; a twitch of the lip, an averted gaze, something.

“Was your friend involved?”

Nothing. 

“Maybe they bit off more than they could chew? Ran into the wrong, very wrong, crowd? And now you’re payin’ the price because you … you stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, too?”

He caught the clench of her jaw. 

“Hell, maybe your friend doesn’t even exist.”

Her face flushed a bright red. “No that’s –”

“Not what? The truth? The truth that’s gonna be your saving grace if you just cooperate with me?”

“Fuck! I’m trying! Okay?!” She slammed her palms on the table, alerting Sam’s trigger finger as his hand flinched to his sidearm, but he didn’t retrieve it as she bellowed. “You think this is easy for me? Huh?! My life is on the line here. Again! And he’ll do much, much worse to me now than whatever those ecliptic fucks were paid to do!”  

Sam raised his hands, his voice calm and diffusing. “Easy. Just — take a breath, and tell me about this he.”

She laughed, a frown etched across her face as she ran her fingers through her hair and held her head. “Might as well, right? I’m as good as dead.”

“That ain’t gonna happen,” Sam said. 

“You have no idea what you’re up against.”

“I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with death. Try me.”

His challenge left her rigid, or so Sam thought, until she regarded him earnestly, the whites of her eyes growing pale as she spoke. “How can you be so sure I’ll be safe?”

That damn question again; poking and prodding at his abilities as if his intuition was nothing but a fluke, as if his experience was nothing but fictional. For god sakes, he wouldn’t be alive if it were and he wouldn’t be the man he was today without it teaching him, guiding him, encouraging him. 

As long as this woman revealed what she knew to Sam and The Rangers, he would do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t suffer at the hands of this — this tormentor. Sam was a man of his word.  

“I just am.”

The woman lowered her head, eyes low as if reflecting on what’s to come. Defeated, but not hopeless. 

“Now, can you tell me who he is?” 

“He is … a plague. A disease. The cause of so much suffering across the Settled Systems, and he is … everywhere.”

Sam cocked his eyebrow. “Who?”

“Медведь. The Bear.”

[kaunis-sielu]

Sick: 2

“Hello?” Helen says.

“We have an emergency. Something is wrong with Sam.”

“Are you sure you need me?” She asks and you get a sick feeling in your stomach, she thinks this is a fake call.

“Cho! This isn’t a Thor is in his underwear running around the compound kind of call! This is a get here now!”

“Oh, oh my god.” She says as it seems to click for her that you’re absolutely serious. “I’m so sorry,” you hear her say, “There’s an emergency at the Tower, I have to go.” You can hear her parents say something but you don’t know what, “I love you guys.” She says to them, “I’m on my way.” She says to you and you can hear her moving.

“Shit. We need to check on Clint and Tony too. They didn’t show up for movie night.”

“You should stay away from them.” She says, and you let out a quick laugh,

“Helen, I’m probably the best person to get close to them. I don’t get sick, not since my accident.” Ever since you’d been given this power you were unable to get sick, not a cold, not a flu, not even an infection.

“Okay fine. Just keep everyone else away from them.”

“Bucky carried Sam to the hospital wing.”

“Have him decontaminate. Try and keep Sam cool until I can get there. Cool cloths would be best. Cool the room down too.”

“Okay.” You agree sprinting into the room. “Bucky, strip and decontaminate.” You tell him and when he looks at you like you’re crazy you shrug and say, “Cho’s orders.”

“For the record I didn’t say it like that.” She says over FRIDAY but Bucky is already pulling off his shirt on his way to the decontamination shower.

“FRIDAY send DUM-E with some clothes from his room.”

“There should be a pack in there for him.” Helen tells you, you can tell that she’s in a car now, heading toward you, “Get Sam cool.” You hear the shower turn on and make your way to the sink. You pull out some pillowcases and turn on the cold water. You’re wringing out the extra water when Steve pulls open the door.

“Stop!” He freezes in the doorway, “Sam is sick, we’re not sure what’s wrong because I helped him this morning and now he’s unconscious and burning up. You need to stay out.”

“I have the serum.” He reminds you but you’re still not exactly comfortable with him coming in.

“Mask up.” You tell him, and Steve nods then pulls a mask off of the wall as Bucky comes out of the shower in clean clothes with his other clothes in a yellow biohazard bag. “You too Buck. Mask up.”

“Yes ma’am.” He teases as Steve throws him a mask.

“Doll, please mask for my sanity.” Steve asks and you give him a fond little eye roll but you do as he asks and grab a mask from the wall and tug it on your face.

“Steve get out of here. Bucky you’ve already touched him since you carried him in here so I need your help. Cho said to keep him cool, I need you to turn down the heat in here. Then we need to check on Tony and Clint.” You tell him as Steve helps your wring out the wet pillow cases. “Steve go.” You order him and his concerned eyes meet yours. “Please.” He nods as Bucky crosses the room and turns the thermostat down.

“Should I tell the others?”

“No.” You tell him glancing over your shoulder at him, “We don’t need to start a panic.”

“Okay.”

“Just go back to the movie. Bucky check on Tony and Clint. If they’re like Sam get them here then shower again and go to the movie.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks as he too moves toward the door.

“Yes.” You pack the wet cloth around Sam. You cut the shirt off of Sam and place one of the pillowcases over him, you try to think of what else you can do to keep him cool. You’re not sure you’re powers will be much help but you gently touch his cheek anyway. “Keep sleeping Sam, keep sleeping so you can keep fighting.” You can’t help but murmur.

Before you know it Bucky comes back into the hospital wing with Tony slung over his shoulder. You can’t help but notice how much gentler he’s being with Tony than he was with Sam.

“His temp up too?” You ask as Bucky puts Tony on a bed next to Sam.

“Yea, I haven’t checked Clint yet but I’m not optimistic if these two are like this.”

You throw more pillow cases into the sink as Helen comes rushing in.

“Tony too?”

“Yea, I told Steve to keep his mouth shut and get out of here. Bucky is going to go and check on Clint.”

“Do you have any idea what this could be?”

“Sam just didn’t feel good. I didn’t get any specifics but it felt like the beginning of the flu or a really bad cold. Nothing that should do this.” You tell her gesturing to your unconscious friend. Helen puts on some hazmat gear as Bucky hurries back out of the hospital as you wring out the towels for Tony.

“I put Sam to sleep, you want me to do the same to Tony?” You ask as you cut his shirt off too, when he wakes up you’re never going to hear the end of this, cutting one of his soft, expensive shirts.

“Yea,” She agrees as she puts an IV in Sam, “I want to draw blood too.”

“I thought you might. Once I’m done with Tony-“

“You’ll have to get to work on Clint.” Bucky interrupts and your gaze swings to the doorway where he’s supporting Clint who is clinging to consciousness.

“Shit.”

“Bucky, shower again. We’re putting you in the quarantine room.” Helen says as she moves to the other side of Sam to draw blood.

“Yea.” Bucky agrees, not seeming surprised by this information before easing Clint onto one of the beds. Clint’s body shakes with coughs and you move to him.

“Clint?”

“Do it.” He croaks answering your unasked question and after a quick glance over at Helen who nods you place your hands on him and let him sleep. He’s not as hot as the other two but you know that if you’re not careful he’s going to be.

You and Helen run around like crazy for the next couple of hours, you focus on keeping their temperatures down and she focuses on trying to figure out what the hell they’re sick with. You’re so drained, you’ve never constantly had to use your powers like this, and it doesn’t seem to be doing much good.

You don’t leave until the sun is up. Steve is standing on the other side of the glass, tapping it gently.

“Honey. You need to get some sleep.” You see him say the words more than you hear them.

“I know. I’m going to take one of the quarantine rooms.” You say back and he frowns. You know he worries, you are, or were, only human and still needed to sleep.

“Honey,”

“I know. I know. But I can’t leave them Steve. What if something happens because I left?” You tell him through the glass, your eyes filling with tears.

“You can’t help them if you don’t take care of yourself.” You know he’s right, in your head you do but in your heart you can’t leave them. “I’ll come in there.”

“FRIDAY has strict instructions to not allow anyone else in.” You counter and he looks amused.

“You think that would stop me?” He challenges and you frown at him.

“I hope the serious threat of illness or death would.”

“You need sleep.”

“I know but how am I supposed to when our friends could die?” You ask your voice breaking and Steve presses a hand to the glass.

“Honey, please come out.” He says, the concern is evident in those bright eyes of his. “Please.” You glance over your shoulder at Sam, Clint and Tony. “You can’t help them if you’re exhausted.”

“I agree.” Helen says sleepily, “but she can’t come out.”

“What?”

“I’ll watch over everyone and keep working until Jemma gets here but you need to take a breath and be quarantined from others. You and I are already exposed.”

“I’m a super solider.” Steve argues but Cho shakes her head.

“We can’t take the risk.” When she sees how crestfallen he looks she adds, “I’m sorry.”

“You’ll go to sleep?” Steve asks and you sigh heavily,

“Yes.” He studies you for a second, as if he’s trying to decide if he believes you or not. “I promise.”

“Okay. I’ll come by later okay?”

“Okay, I love you.”

“I love you too Honey.” Steve says before Helen ushers you into one of the quarantine rooms.

“You’ll wake me if you need me?”

“Yes.” She promises before she closes the door and you go to sleep.

Tag list:

@foxyjwls007 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @killcomet @wonderlandfandomkingdom @abschaffer2 @capsiclesdoll @patzammit @sass-masterkittenmama @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

[jasmines-library]

Hello!! I was hoping I could request for a Winchester sister reader that's taking care of the brothers when they're sick? Maybe making chicken noodle soup for them and stuff! Just something cute, I just need some comfort 🥹 Thank you if you take my request! 🫶

Noodle Soup

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Note: Sorry its a little short, I wanted to get some spn out for you all tonight because its been a hot minute since I wrote for spn and I’m ashamed

Word Count: 1k

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

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You never thought you would ever say this, but the infamous Dean Winchester was sick. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he would ever say it. Not out loud at least, but this morning, he could hardly drag himself out of bed and he was hit with a migraine and blocked sinuses that completely threw him off balance.

 It put him in a bad mood as he tried to make his way to the kitchen, grumbling something about how he was fine. He was betrayed by the dry cough that left him heaving and leaning heavily on the side of the counter. You considered getting up many times as you watched him from the kitchen table as you scanned the papers for any possible hunts, but you knew his foul mood would more than likely end in an argument that you didn’t want to be involved in. What finally made you push your chair out from the table to put a stop to Dean’s antics was when he was fumbling around with a pan and dropped it on the floor with a clatter. 

“Alright. That’s it. ” You linked an arm around him, pulling him away from the counter. 

“Get the hell off me, Y/N.” Dean tried to push you away. “I’m fine.”

“Dean.” You gave him a look, narrowing your eyes at him stubbornly. “You can barely stand straight.”

He tried to turn back to the kitchen. “Piss off.”

You took his arm and dragged him back to the sofa. He sank back into it with a cough. 

“Stay put.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and grumbled, but made no attempt to stand. 

Sighing in content, you made your way back to the kitchen to make a start on breakfast when you heard another set of lumbering footsteps echoing through the bunker. 

“I swear to god, Dean-” You started, making your way out of the kitchen only to come face to face with a very gruff-looking Sam. His hair was tousled and his eyes had dark shadows beneath them. 

“Sammy?” You frowned. 

“Hey y/n/n” He greeted. His voice was hoarse and scratchy, as if someone had replaced it with sandpaper. Perhaps it was not just one set of coughs and sneezes that kept you up last night. 

“You too, huh?” You asked as he plonked himself on a stool in the kitchen. 

Although less stubborn than his older brother, Sam still hesitated for a moment before sighing. 

“Yep. I think we must have picked it up at the bar on the last hunt.”

It made sense. The two of them had gone out to the bar the other nights while you scouted out the local town. You weren’t sick, so it seemed to add up.

Sam groaned, rubbing his temples to try and ease the pressure. 

“Why don’t you go and join Dean? I’ll bring some food out in a bit.”

Nodding, Sammy took his leave, stumbling back to his brother. 

~

“Alrighty…” You balanced two bowls of steaming soup in your hands and you pushed open the door with your foot. 

Your brothers didn’t seem to have improved much since this morning. Stubbornly as ever they both sat bundled up in blankets on the couch, wallowing in their own self pity and watching whatever they could find on the TV to keep themselves entertained. In the meantime, you were making sure that they were well cared for: making sure their temperatures didn’t get too high, or handing them painkillers to help with the headache. It was only fair, they had spent countless hours looking after you in the past when you were ill. 

That was why you found yourself in the kitchen nursing a bowl of chicken noodle soup. It was your mother’s recipe; something that John had stashed away at the back of his journal. You could see why: it was the perfect remedy for a day like this. 

Handing a bowl to both of your brothers, you watched as they sipped the steaming liquid and twisted the noodles around on a fork. Glad to see that they could stomach food, you went back into the kitchen to grab your own bowl. Your two brothers had sprawled themselves out across the length of the sofa, so you took a seat on the floor with your head leaning against Sam’s legs. 

“Thank you.” Dean said as you took your seat.

“It’s not a problem.” You told him.

“We should be the ones taking care of you.” Dean continued.

You frowned, deepening the creases on your forehead. “Says who?”

Dean faltered. “Us.”

“Let me take care of you for once.”

The three of you stayed there for the rest of the day, talking and watching films through half lidded eyes and checking that your brothers were feeling okay. But, a few hours and a mountain of tissues later, they had finally drifted off to sleep.

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SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr @aestheticdaisies @xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys @inlovewhithafairytale @harleycao

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[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

My Hero

Summary: Doctor Sam WInchester had fallen hard for the woman living just down the hall. She was easily the most adorable and the most accident-prone creature he had ever met! Yet for all the times he came to her rescue, he was too shy to make a move. Maybe he could work up his courage, if he got just one more chance...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Sam x Reader, Doctor!Sam Winchester x You

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Garth, Dean Winchester

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, fluff

One Shot

Word Count: 3700

Author’s Notes: I swear, every time I get sick all I want is a Winchester to come and take care of me. Is that really so much to ask?? I think not! This is my very first Sam x Reader fic! I have a few more ideas rattling around for the youngest Winchester brother, but this is decent practice. For now. Enjoy!

Bang.  Bang.  Bang.

     “Coming, coming!”  Sam pulled t-shirt over his head as he trotted to the front door.  He’d been getting ready for bed when the insistent knocking started.

     The door swung open to a very nervous young man in a Wong’s delivery uniform.  Sam recognized him from the few times he ordered from them. 

     “Hey, its Garth, right?”

     “Yeah,” he shifted on his feet, his eyes round with worry, “You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

     Sam’s instantly shifted into his professional mode.  He was currently an attending at Lawrence General Hospital, having just moved back a year ago from L.A.  It had been an adjustment, but a welcome one.  Big city life didn’t suit Sam at all. 

     “I am.  What’s going on?’

     “I was dropping off an order down the hall to the lady in 302 and I heard this thud behind the door and now I can’t get her to answer.  I think something’s wrong.”

     Sam was already grabbing his medical bag, “Show me.”

     302.  He knew the woman who lived there.  More or less.  They kept running into each other.  He first discovered her fighting with the soap dispenser in the laundry room.  Then again when she locked herself out of the building during a thunderstorm.  And then last week when the elevator got stuck between floors.  He always seemed to be wandering by when she needed a rescue.  She was funny, smart, accident prone, and completely adorable. 

     Sam had been working up the courage to ask her out, but something always seemed to crop up.  An extra shift at the hospital or a birthday party for a colleague.  He knew it was an excuse.  For all of his professional success, Sam was, and always had been, extremely shy.

     “Y/N?”  He knocked loudly on the closed door, then tried the handle and found it locked. 

     “Alright, stand back,” he said to Garth.  In one powerful move, Sam kicked the door in, the heel of his foot landing in just the right spot to splinter the doorjamb. 

     “Damn,” Garth blew out an impressed breath, “You aren’t even wearing shoes.”

     You were laying in the foyer.  Curled on your side with your hair spread out like a halo.  A wallet sat a few inches away from outstretched fingers. 

     Sam was at your side in an instant, gingerly turning you over and searching for a pulse, “Y/N?  Can you hear me?”

     Garth hovered nearby, nerves in his voice, “Is she okay?”

     Sam ran a hand over your forehead, “She’s burning up.  Go see if you can find a washcloth and a glass of water.”

     His worry only grew when he carried you to the couch and you still didn’t come to.  He held your limp body up with one hand while he worked your hoodie off with the other, leaving you in a tank top and yoga pants.  He’d strip that off you too, if he had to.  Every inch of bare skin he touched felt like it was on fire! 

     “Why isn’t she waking up?”  Garth asked handing Sam a kitchen towel.

     “Dehydration.  With a fever this high, it can happen quick.”  Sam dipped the towel in the water filled coffee mug and bathed your face and neck.  Sure enough, his efforts were rewarded.

     You groaned, even that soft sound reverberated through your pounding head.  Everything hurt and all you wanted was to slip back into the blankness of sleep.   But it was so noisy!  Someone kept talking, like the parents in a Snoopy cartoon.  Unintelligible, insistent, and so annoying!

     Sam gently tapped your cheeks, “Y/N.  Come on, darlin.  Open your eyes for me.”

     With a bit of coaxing, you did as he asked.  Everything around you swirled and slowly came into focus.  Your head felt heavy and fell to the side, Sam was there and smiled down at you.  As a reflex, you smiled back before your fevered brain could catch up and tell you who you were looking at.

     “Hey… it’s my hero.”

     Sam chuckled in relief, “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”

     “You’re here.  That’s so nice… why are you here?”

     “You passed out,” he replied, pressing the cool cloth to your brow.  “Do you remember what happened?”

     You tried to search your memory, but everything was so fuzzy!  “Um, I came home from work… I was sick.  Felt really bad.  Everything hurt.  Achy and cold.  Headache.  Then I ordered soup from the place down on Main Street.  I dunno…I feel a little out of it.”

     There was a blood pressure cuff wrapped around your bicep that was inflating.  Where did that come from?  Sam was doing that doctor thing where they listen to you talk while taking vitals at the same time.   

     How did doctors do that?  Did they teach that in med school?  It seemed especially confusing to you as your thoughts kept skipping away and going down rabbit holes.

     Cool fingers felt under your jaw, pressing against swollen lymph nodes.  He always had such a gentleness about him.  Such grace.  Surprising for a man of his size, but he seemed to take such care with you.  Like you were the most rare, delicate creature in the world.

     Last week when you found yourself stuck in the elevator, it was Sam who answered your call.  He muscled open the doors single handed and lifted you up though the opening without breaking a sweat.  You were more than a little awe struck by his display of strength and chivalry.  If you’d had half a brain, you’d have invited him for coffee as a thank you.  As it was, you were preoccupied with being late to work.  A sadly missed opportunity with your handsome neighbor.

     “You came home from work, was that last night?”

     “Um, yeah.  Yes.  As if Mondays aren’t sucky enough.”

     Sam’s eyebrows rose, “That was two days ago.”

     “What?”

     “Today’s Wednesday.”

     That information had you on the move.  You sat straight up and instantly went white.  The room titled and if it weren’t for Sam’s hands steadying your shoulders, you probably would have slid right off the couch.

     “Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Not so fast,” Sam advised, forcing you to recline.

     “I gotta go call work… or… somebody.”

     “The only place you are going is to the E.R.”

     “No, I can’t go to the hospital.”

     “Y/N, listen to me.  You’re dehydrated to the point that you fainted.  Your fever is 103, that’s dangerous territory.” 

     Sam tried to be stern, but he just didn’t have it in him.  You looked so pitiful with your hair sticking to the sweat slick skin and the dark smudges under your eyes.  You were desperately sick and he wasn’t going to simply leave you without treatment.

     “I know a lot of people are scared of the doctor, but I promise I’ll be right there with you.”

     You swallowed, wincing at the feeling of knives in your throat.  “I’m not scared, I’m uninsured.  My job is new, benefits don’t kick in for thirty days.”

     Garth piped up, “You’re a doctor, can’t you just prescribe something and treat her here?”

     “It’s not that simple.  She needs to be admitted so they can get an I.V. going and get some fluids into her system.  And bring that fever under control.”

     He felt your head loll against him.  He looked down in alarm and found you’d lost consciousness again. 

     “Y/N?  Wake up, Y/N!” 

     This time no amount of effort would bring you around. 

     “Damn it,” Sam growled as he got to his feet.  He grabbed a notepad from your entry table and scribbled a list down.  “Do you know that walk-in clinic on 42nd street?”

     Garth followed him, “Yeah, I pass it on my way to work.”

     “Great.  My brother is on call there tonight, go in and ask for Dean.  Tell him it’s for me, he’ll help you.”  Sam tore off the list and thrust it into Garth’s hand, “Get everything and hurry!”

     Garth shoved the paper in his pocket, “What if they don’t believe me?  That clinic isn’t in the best part of town, junkies hassle them all the time.”

     “Dean will believe you but in case he doesn’t say Poughkeepsie.  It’s our go word, means drop everything.”

     “A secret code word, you guys must be brothers,” Garth muttered on his way out the door.

     You woke feeling warm.  Bundled up in something soft and secure.  Your eyes stayed closed as you enjoyed the luxurious feeling.  Most mornings you woke up stiff with your muscles complaining about the ancient futon you had yet to replace.  It was left over from college and the wood slats dug into your hips, but moving to a new town was expensive!  Anything like a proper mattress would have to wait until you had a few more paychecks under your belt.

     You stretched a bit, content to roll over and fall back into your dreams, but something tugged on your hand and pinched.  You frowned and tried again; it was like you were caught in a fishing net. 

     “What the hell…?”  You grumbled unhappily, determined to keep your eyes closed out of stubbornness.  You blindly felt around and found a tube and tape attached to your right hand.

     Your eyes popped open.  An I.V.?

     You weren’t in your bed.  You weren’t in your room!  Where the hell were you? 

     The dimensions matched your bedroom, but it wasn’t bare bones like yours.  This one was painted a lovely smoke grey.  Bookshelves lined one wall and a mahogany dresser matched it on the other.  The bed was the biggest you’d ever seen.  The headboard was massive and intricately carved.  The mattress was firm but yielding. 

     The bedside table housed bottles of medication, a stethoscope, a digital thermometer, and a glass of water.  You remembered being sick.  Sicker than you’d ever felt.  You remembered your boss sending you home then… nothing.  Just a blur. 

     You sat up slowly.  When the room didn’t spin, you decided to press your luck.  You pulled back the covers enough to dangle your feet over the edge.  Your toes found plush carpet.  You felt weak, but not dizzy.  And you were cold without the blankets.  Looking down you found bare legs.  You were wearing only your tank top and Wonder Woman underwear. 

     Fuck.  Where the hell are my clothes?!

     With a quick yank, you pulled the I.V. out and headed for the door. 

     “Yeah, Dean I know.  If I promise to wash and wax your car, will you get off my case?”

     “No way in hell you are waxing my Baby, do I need to remind you about Liza Raffaella in the eighth grade?”

     “Please don’t,” Sam groaned into the phone. 

     “It’s wax on, wax off.  Not wax on, go chat up a nerd girl for three hours while the wax bakes on in the sun!”

     “Sam?”

     Sam spun at the raspy voice behind him.  You were standing in the hall, your hand braced against the wall for balance.  You looked a little wobbly, but far better than you had in hours.

     “I gotta go,” he told his brother before ending the call.  “Y/N, hey.  How you feeling?”

     “Confused.  How did I get here and where are my clothes?”

     “Oh!”  Sam’s cheeks colored instantly as he grabbed a soft, woven throw from the back of an over-sized chair.  He draped it over your shoulders and ushered you to the sofa.

     “Sorry about that, your fever was sky high.  Needed to bring it down in a hurry.  Here, sit.”

     You sank down onto a couch that was just as comfortable as the bed you’d woken up in.  Sam disappeared into the kitchen then returned with a glass of ginger ale and some crackers.  He was rattling off something about Chinese takeout and your pants being in the laundry.  All the while he was fussing over you.  His long fingers found the pulse point on your wrist, and he produced a pen light from somewhere to check your pupils.

     After a few minutes, he realized you were staring at him, “Y/N?”

     “Sam, grateful that I am for your hospitality and bedside manner… I still don’t understand why I’m here.” 

     “Well, I figured it would be a better place for you to recover… with all the construction.”

     Now you were really confused, “Construction?”

     Sam rubbed the back of his neck and embarrassment turned his ears pink, “Yeah.  I ah… I kinda broke down your door.”

     “What?!”

     “You weren’t answering!  I just had a really bad feeling, and I would never have forgiven myself if something happened to you.”

     His gaze traveled your face then locked on your eyes.  “I was worried about you.”

     You looked at him, really looked.  He was beautiful, as he always was, but there was an edge of exhaustion to his features.  His five o’clock shadow was darker than you’d ever seen it.  The fine lines around his eyes and lips were etched deeper and his hazel eyes were slightly red.  Even his enviable hair was disheveled. 

     “So, you committed destruction of property to save my life?”

     “I did.”  He gave a nod, his tone teasing, “You gonna turn me in?”

     A small smile played around your lips, “Nah.  I might need your services again.  I have a habit of getting into trouble.  Nice to know I’ve got my own personal hero on call.”

     “You call, I’ll come running.”

Two Years Later:

     “That was not our first date!”

     “We spent the entire weekend curled up in my bed, it counts.”

     “I was unconscious!”

     “Not the whole time,” Sam countered, threading his fingers through yours, “Sometimes you’d wake up.  Of course, you were delirious.  You did have some of the most creative fever dreams… what was that one about the Catholic church hiding the existence of extra-terrestrials by dressing them up like the clergy?”

     “They were hiding dinosaurs, not aliens.  Tiny dinosaurs under their creepy old lady robes.  And still, not a date.  I think you’ll find most dating experts would agree with me on this.”

    “Dating experts?”

     “Your brother.”

     Sam huffed out a laugh, “Don’t be fooled by the rumors, he’s not the Casanova everyone thinks he is.”

     “I dunno, guy gets a lot of dates.”

     “First dates.  Ask him about his batting average for second dates.”

     “Oh yeah?  Got him beat, do you?”

     “Hands down.”

     Sam curled a finger under your chin and brought his lips down to meet yours.  You hummed happily as an electric spark zinged all the way down to your toes.  It was crazy that even after two years he still managed to excite you with just a touch, or a look.  You never had to doubt his feelings for you, he wore them openly and proudly.  He never missed the opportunity to hold your hand in the grocery store or to wrap his arm around your shoulders at the movies.   A kiss to the temple, a hand at the small of your back.  Every touch was filled with the warmth of the sun on a summer’s day.  Every night was filled with the heat and passion of desire that could never be sated. 

     You leaned into Sam’s side as he guided the two of you down the winding path that cut through the willows.  “So, tell me Doctor Winchester, why haven’t I been to your family’s estate before?”

     “I wouldn’t call it an estate, it’s just a few acres.”

     “I don’t care if it’s a patch of dead grass… you have horses!  Horses, Sam!  I’ve wanted to go horseback riding since I was ten.”

     “We might be able to squeeze in a lesson for you before we head home.”

     “Really?!”

     “I’ll bet you’re a natural, you’re already an expert with a riding crop,” he whispered in your ear.

     “Sam!”  You admonished him, instantly turning red, “That was a one time!”

     “Best birthday ever.  And to answer your question; you haven’t been here before because I was waiting.”

     The path curved and opened up to a decent sized pond.  A dock jutted out onto the clear, still waters and ended in an elaborate gazebo.  Painted a picturesque white and topped with a copper finial, hundreds of tiny fairy lights hung from the rafters glittering with magic and romance. 

     “Oh wow,” you breathed, following Sam down the planks.  “This is like something out of a book.  God, it’s beautiful!”

     “My parents built this place from the ground up.  Mom had this vision in her head about a pond where she could come and watch ducks.  Teach her kids to swim and fish.  So, one summer, Dad started digging.  I don’t think he even had a plan, all the neighbors thought he was crazy!  But he was stubborn and determined.  And he loved my mom more than anything.”

     You walked out to the end of the platform and leaned out on the railing.  Dragonflies danced along the surface of the water as the sun began to set and the crickets started to sing.  “He did a great job.  Did he build the gazebo too?”

     “Anniversary present,” he confirmed, joining you by the railing.  “This was my favorite spot when I was a kid.  Dean loved the garage, hanging with Dad and tearing apart trucks with the radio blasting.  I couldn’t stand the noise, so I’d come out here.  Even in the winter.”

     Suddenly, a swan flew down and landed in the middle of the water.  Graceful and noble, it glided across the water sending the slightest of ripples out in its wake.  As it turned, you could see a single black feather against the white of its tail. 

     “Oh!  I’ve never seen a swan with one black feather.”

     “He’s always had it, never could figure out why.  He showed up when I was ten and just never left.  I call him Solomon.”

     “Is it just him?  I thought swans always paired up?”  

     “Well, that’s the thing, they do have mates for life, but he showed up alone.  And I know it sounds silly, but he was mopey.  He didn’t take a lot of interest in anything; he didn’t interact with the ducks or even pay any attention to me when I tried to feed him.  He was sad.  Some animals grieve and I think he was grieving for his lost mate.”

     “Poor guy,” you murmured, watching as Sam took a packet of birdseed from his pocket and tossed a bit out on the water. 

     “When I left for college, Solomon migrated and didn’t come back in the spring.  I thought I’d seen the last of him, but then I got a call from Mom this past summer.  He was back and he brought someone with him.”

     As if on cue, a second swan swooped down and landed beside Solomon.  Pure white and just as lovely.  They looked like a postcard, gliding on the sunlit water.

     “You’re kidding!  He found another mate?  I didn’t know swans would do that!”

     “Some do, special cases.  And Solomon’s no fool, he might have been content to be alone forever, but when that right one came along, he snapped her up.”

     “That’s amazing!”  You turned to Sam with a beaming grin, but stopped short when you realized he wasn’t standing there beside you.  He was kneeling. 

     “Sam.”

     He took both of your hands in his, tipping his face back to gaze up at you with such tenderness and devotion it made your breath catch.

     “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time.  I knew what I wanted to do and how I wanted it to look, but the words never came.  Everything I wrote seemed inadequate.  Even the word love falls short.  It’s not enough, it’s not big enough.  Being with you is a revelation, Y/N.  You call me your hero, but baby… it’s the other way around.  You rescued me.”

     Tears had already gathered in your eyes when he pulled out a blue velvet box.  A diamond solitaire sparkled inside like a star in the sky. 

     “I don’t know if I’ll ever have the words, but I swear to show you.  To treasure you, to make your happiness my mission.  To answer your call and to love you for all my days.”

     You dropped down to your knees and tackled him.  Your arms flung around his neck, nearly knocking him over in your enthusiasm.   He caught you with a laugh and kept the two of you from tumbling off into the water.  You kissed every square inch of the face you’d loved since he first rescued you.  And you laughed.  Joy bubbled up from your heart like effervescent Champagne.

     “You astonishing,” Kiss. “Brilliant,” kiss. “Romantic,” kiss, kiss. “Beautiful,” kiss, kiss, kiss.

     “Y/N… baby…”

     “Yes?” Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.

     His hands wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back slightly so he could look into your eyes.  He traced the curve of your face, fondly tucking your hair behind your ear.  You were always moving, always racing towards everything in life.  It was something he loved about you, your exuberance.  Your passion!  You burned so bright, his light even on the darkest days. 

     “Will you marry me?”

     Your brow creased in confusion before you realized, he didn’t actually say the words a moment ago.  You been so excited that he never got the chance. 

     “Yes,” you nodded, your forehead coming to rest against his. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

     Sam slipped the ring onto your finger, “Will you look at that?  Perfect fit.”

     “Guess that means you’re stuck with me now.”  You shifted so that you were sitting in his lap, your hand cupped his jaw, “I should tell you up front that I tend to get into trouble, there’s a good chance that you’ll be required to rescue me from time to time.”

     “Good thing rescuing you is my second favorite activity.”

     “Second favorite?”

     “Yeah,” he murmured against the curve of your neck, “Let me show you the front runner.”

     Before long, Sam had swept you away in a haze with his deft fingers and clever tongue.  The title of Hero that you bestowed on him became a running joke through the years and then a loving nickname.  But that didn’t make it any less true.  He’d always been a hero, and now he was yours. TAGLIST @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsurdity @starryeyeseunbyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetryy @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witchly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @panicking-outside-the-disco @haylie-spnfam4evr @lauraashley93 @foxyjwls007 @bluedragonflylady @foxyjwls007

[hunterscabin]

That’s What I’m Here For

Request: Can you please write an asthmatic reader and Sam and Dean help calm her during an attack because they know what to do - helping her count and breathe and use the inhaler because it’s a really bad attack (I live for whump!) - Anonymous

Pairings: Sam x Asthmatic!Reader; Dean x Asthmatic!Reader

Warnings: Asthma attack; panicked reader; whump; worried Sam & Dean; fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

Author’s Note: Thank you for the prompt, Nonnie! I actually have asthma, so this was somewhat cathartic to write. I hope you enjoy!

Morning had always been your favorite time to run. There was something so calming about watching nature wake up: the sun rising over the treetops, birds greeting the day with their happy chirps. Living the stressful life of a hunter made you truly appreciative of these peaceful moments, and you did your best to incorporate them into your daily routine. 

You were on a small trail that looped around the woods near the bunker. It stretched roughly two miles, the perfect length for a morning jog. Although you maintained a steady pace, you noticed your breathing rate increase around the one and a half mile mark. Wanting to enjoy the tranquility of the outdoors a little longer, you shrugged off the warning sign. Now, on the last leg of your run, a familiar sensation tugged at your chest. 

Slowing your pace, you reached into your running belt and felt for your inhaler. When you found nothing, you tried the other pocket. It wasn’t there. 

“How could I be so stupid,” you wondered. Asthma had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember, and you always had an inhaler with you in case of emergencies. 

Panicking would surely make things worse, so you ran through your usual mantra of reassuring phrases:

“You can still talk, which means you’re getting enough air.”

“Your inhaler is close.”

“Sam and Dean will be able to help." 

While your personal pep talk kept your mental game in check, the tightness in your chest continued to twist, and you were beginning to feel your throat constrict. By the time the bunker came into view, you were in the throes of a full-blown asthma attack. 

The bunker door was twice as heavy in your current condition, but with a weak heave, you managed to nudge it open just enough to slink through. The door closed behind you with a thud, and you braced yourself against the loft railing. 

"Y/N,” Sam called when he heard the bunker door close, “Dean found a hunt while you were on your run.” When you didn’t reply, Sam shouted after you again. “We’re in the library!”

No longer able to support yourself, you fell to your hands and knees gasping for air. 

“Y/N?” Dean yelled a little louder, thinking you may not have heard Sam. When you still didn’t respond, the brothers exchanged a worried look. 

You needed help, but you could no longer speak; there was no way you had enough breath to call downstairs. Trying to conserve what little energy you had left, you kicked over a small bucket of bullet casings sitting next to the door. At the sound of shells loudly scattering across the floor, Sam and Dean darted toward the stairs.

“Y/N!” Sam and Dean’s speed increased when they saw you on all fours. They quickly scaled the staircase and were next to you within seconds. Dean landed at your side and placed a hand on your back. Sam knelt in front of you, taking your face in his hands. 

“Y/N/N, what’s wrong?” Sam’s hands moved from your cheeks to your shoulders and down your arms as he felt for injuries. 

You responded by placing a hand on your chest.  

“Y/N/N, are you having an asthma attack?" 

Your eyes widened in confirmation and both brothers began to move on autopilot. 

"Where is your inhaler?” Sam couldn’t hide the concern in his voice. He and Dean had been helping you cope with asthma ever since you joined them, but it never got any easier seeing you struggle for air, especially when an attack was this bad. 

You tried to respond, but all that came out was a stifled wheeze. Sam knew they were running out of time. 

“I think she keeps one on her nightstand?” Dean offered. Again, words failed you, but found the strength to nod “yes.” As soon as he had confirmation, Sam shot up and ran to your bedroom. Without Sam to lean on, you began to sway, and Dean slid behind you for support. 

“Lean against me, Y/N/N.” Dean eased you into a seated position between his legs. Your fists gripped the rough material of his jeans as you fought for air. 

“I know it’s hard, sweetheart, but try to relax.” Dean’s big hands enveloped your upper arms. He massaged them as he ran his thumbs across your shoulders. Your head lolled back in the crook of his neck. 

“That’s my girl,” he soothed, “Try to match my breathing.” You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, but no matter how hard you focused, you could not calm the urgency coursing through your body. You were fighting a losing battle against the panic churning inside you when you heard the comforting sound of Sam’s boots growing louder as he bound up the stairs. 

Sam crouched down, and you reached out a shaking hand to take your inhaler from him. “I’ve got it, baby girl.” Sam flashed you a sympathetic smile, “You just relax against Dean.”

Sam wrapped one hand behind your neck and eased the pump between your lips with the other. 

“Ready?” You nodded weakly and Sam released a puff into your mouth. Sam’s heart dropped as he watched most of the medicine billow past your lips. 

“I know it hurts, Y/N, but you have to do your best to take a deep breath.” Sam’s hand left your neck. “When you feel ready, squeeze my hand, and I’ll give you another puff, okay?”

You closed your eyes, mustering all of the strength you could and squeezed Sam’s hand. He discharged the medicine, and you took a shaky but complete breath. 

“That’s it, Y/N/N,” Sam encouraged, “Let’s do a couple more.” After two more puffs, the tension in your throat eased. Sam set down the inhaler and grabbed your other hand.

“Slow breaths, Y/N/N,” Sam lowered his head to yours, “Look at me, baby.” Sam took a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled slowly through his mouth. You followed his example and took a shaky breath of your own. 

“In: one, two three,” Sam coached, “Out: one, two, three, four, five.” He could see your face begin to relax as the medicine took its full effect. 

“Good job, Y/N/N. In: one, two, three. Out: one, two, three, four, five.” 

Sam guided you through counting your breaths until your breathing evened and returned to a normal rate.  

“How you feelin’, honey?” Dean questioned behind you, his hands still rubbing your arms. 

“Better,” you replied in a raspy voice. “My chest is still tight.”

“We’ll get you downstairs to your room and set up a breathing treatment.” Sam assured. Both brothers were surprised when you shook your head “no.”

“Sweetheart,” Dean’s voice was gentle but firm, “you need a breathing treatment.”  

“I know,” you wheezed, “Sammy’s room." 

"You want to go to my room?” Sam asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. You usually wanted Dean after a particularly bad attack. When you nodded “yes,” his heart swelled. “Of course we can go to my room, Y/N/N. C’mere.”

Sam got on one knee and scooped you up in his arms. He carried you down to his room and laid you on the bed. He turned to go prepare your breathing treatment, but you grabbed his hand. Dean saw and smiled at his younger brother. “I’ve got it,” he mouthed across the room.

Sam walked around to the other side of the bed and propped up several pillows. He took off his boots and crawled in, leaning against the headboard. He reached over and pulled you to him, lifting you onto his chest. He used a pillow to support your back, knowing that being elevated would help your breathing. 

Dean came back with your nebulizer and set it on the bed next to Sam. He filled the cartridge with medicine and attached the tubing to the mask. Dean gently lifted your head and placed the mask over your nose and mouth. He turned on the machine, and you began breathing in the mist, feeling relief almost immediately. Dean leaned in, placed a kiss on your forehead, and then looked down to his brother. 

“I’m gonna get her some water, you need anything?" 

Sam shook his head. All he needed was to know that you were okay. Dean left for the kitchen and Sam tightened his grip around you.

"Thank you, Sammy,” you muttered through the mask. Sam exhaled in amusement at your gratitude. As if there was anything he and Dean wouldn’t do to keep you safe. 

“Anytime, Y/N/N,” he placed a kiss on top of your head, “That’s what I’m here for."

Tags: @senjoritanana​

Masterlist

[ficsforfundota]

Sam Winchester/Any Gender Reader/Dean Winchester -Omega Verse - Home Sick

—-

Sam and Dean paced as you whined in your sleep. You were their omega and you weren’t feeling well, it wasn’t heat, but it was something.

The three of you had been on the road for a month and a half. Sleeping in the impala and shitty motels.

“Sammy you’re the egg-head. What’s wrong with our mate?”

Sam shrugged as you cuddled into their flannels taking in their scent to ease your sickness. “I think (y/n) is just not feeling well.”

“I think we should get them to an omega specialist just to be sure, I know I usually hate doctors but I think we should.”

Sam bit his lip but nodded. Your papers while forged with fake names and addresses were fully up to date and they had marked you as theirs in various ways to ensure there was no chance the state could call you an unattended or unclaimed omega. Sam riffled through his satchel and pulled out the one thing they both found upsetting about omegan life.

Your collar.

Their names were etched onto the back, along with Bobby’s address, and your name was scrawled in fancy font across the front of the tag.

To them collars meant your choices were gone, that you belonged to them and didn’t get to be your own person. They had bonded you, you bore their bite marks across your scent glands and the junctions of your neck and shoulders. They had claimed you as theirs and they didn’t see a need for the collar unless you were in situations you had to be around general population, which was a lot in your line of work.

If you were being honest you’d gotten used to the collar, and it meant they owned you, but you obliged to their distaste of the collar and wore it when they bestowed it upon you.

In your sleeping state Sam got the collar around your neck. “Let’s go then.”

Dean nodded and started up Baby. You whined again in your sleep curling into yourself. Sam groaned seeing you look so sad.

They drove to the nearest Omega Hospital. Sam picked you up and carried you inside while Dean held the folder of your various omega files the many states required of you.

Undocumented omegas were illegal, and they refused to lose you to state laws. A demon or monster was better then that. As soon as you three entered the beta staff made their way towards your little family.

“What can we help you with?”

“Our omega, they’re not feeling well. Started a few days ago, got them pain pills, tried to knot to see if they just needed a fill, tried baths, massages. Sleep. They’re still acting off, we just wanted to see if the docs could figure anything out.” Sam replied laying you on a metal table. The paper crinkled as you were laid down.

“Names, and do you have their files?”

“I’m Sam Smith, this is my brother Dean Smith we share our omega. They’re name is (Y/N) Smith.

“Birth last name?”

“Winchester.” They lied.

The women nodded and jotted down information. Dean handed her the files and she began to look them over. All actual check ups, just with the fake last names for them and giving you theirs. Legally unmarried but with the bond marks you could take their last name.

Sam watched you curl into their flannels, that even in your sleeping state you refused to give up, he frowned when you whined.

“Room twelve, best if you both stay close. Clear to me they need your scent close.”

The two nodded, Sam picked you up once more and carried you towards the room. Laying you on a softer chair the paper still crinkling with any movement you made the boys waited with concern as you whined in your sleep.

The doctor stepped in and looked you over with a soft smile. “The names Dr. Strode but my friends call me Woody. What seems to be the matter?”

Sam explained what he told to the nurse once more. The doctor nodded and looked over your charts a few more times before he began to run the tests he could while you slept.

“What’s wrong doc?”

“See the funny thing is from what I can tell they’re fine, but answer me some questions.”

The boys nodded. “Anything.”

“How long have you three been bonded?”

“Eight years.” Sam replied quickly. “Courted for three.”

“When was their last heat?”

“A month ago.” Dean remarked with a glazed eye smile. “We helped (Y/N) through it.”

“Alright now, how’s their nesting been?”

“Well we travel a lot, (y/n) hasn’t really been able to have a regular nesting spot.”

“How long have you been traveling for?”

“This is the longest at one time, nearly a whole month. But we are used to traveling you don’t think that’s the problem do you?”

“If omegas can’t regularly nest they do get home sick. That may be it, or they’re just getting a common cold. Omegas are pretty hearty, they bounce back fast so you don’t often know they’re not feeling well till they get worse before they get better.” The two alphas nodded watching you roll slightly snuggling into their tops. “Now I see your omega is holding onto your clothes, have they been doing that for a long time?”

“Usually have something of ours on or with them, but at night (Y/N) sleeps with us. When our ‘mega does nest our clothes are usually a big part of it.”

“So it may be a nesting issue.”

“How do we remedy that when we are on long trips?”

“Designate the back seat for them to nest, or if you have a long term motel or hotel get two beds. One for (Y/N) to make a nest.” The softer turned around and grabbed a few pamphlets off the wall.

Traveling with omegas.

Nesting habits of omegas.

Ways to ensure omegas stay happy while missing home.

“These should help, read them over. Try to stop by home on occasion during your trips if you can or, if you know you can’t find a few things you can bring from home that are easy to travel with and allows them to get a sense of that security.”

The two alphas nodded. “Thank you.” Sam said picking you up happily kissing your sleeping frame. Dean shook the doctors hand and followed Sam out looking over the pamphlets.

“Says comfort food will also help, things that reminds the omega of home when we aren’t.” Dean muttered as he looked over the traveling pamphlet. “Our traveling can’t interfere with our love.”

“It never had before, probably just with the apocalypse and all security is better. I understand their struggling, and I feel it too. We just process it differently as alphas.”

Dean nodded leaning back to give you a kiss before he started the car back up again. He was just happy there wasn’t anything terribly wrong, they both loved you more then anything and you meant the world to them.

[samandcolbyownme]

Love Sick [coming soon] is already another one of my favorite one shots. I’m so exited to get it out for you guys. I’m working double time to get it out!