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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 years

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A Winchester’s Daughter 3/?

This is a SPN X OC X B99 TIE-IN

Maya is a 17 year old cop who is on the hunt for the dad, only, when she finds him, she also finds out the world in which he comes from.

Dean, Sam, Cas and Jack’s stay seemed to last a little longer than they had expected.

After two days, Sam found a case. Well...Maya did.

It was around 2 in the morning when Maya got a call from the station. She tried her best to stay quiet since Sam was fast asleep in Daisy’s office and Dean was fast asleep on the sofa.

Since Cas and Jack didn’t really sleep they had taken to touring the city at night.

“What time is it? Is everything okay?” Dean asked, sleepily as he rubbed his eyes.

He could just about make out the silouette of his daughter as she strapped on her side-arm.

“Everything’s fine.” Maya whispered. “I’m on call. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

However, those couple of hours turned into Maya coming in through the door around 7 in the evening.

“Hey,” Sam said, slightly bouncing from the coffee. “Whoa. What’s wrong?”

Maya didn’t talk, she just shook her head, lifted her hand, walked towards the sofa and sat down.

“Kid?” Dean asked.

Still no answer.

Dean and Sam looked worried to one another before looking back to Maya.

“Hey, talk to me. What happened?” Dean asked, sitting on the coffee table, tapping her knee to try and get her attention.

Maya sighed and sat up. “This is gonna sound stupid, but do you know anything about witches?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

For a week now, they had been hunting the witch.

Terry - along with a very frightening Amy - had managed to contact an agent in the FBI. Someone who Terry was in the academy with.

Thankfully, this Agent knew a thing of two about what went bump in the night. They managed to issue two badges, with the Director’s approval, for the Winchesters.

Granted, they had been hunted by the FBI once upon a time. But when the Director’s own daughter ended up with a poltergiest in her apartment and was saved by two Hunters, they were a little happier to hand over two badges to the boys.

But, even with the upside that the FBI would lay off the brother’s for a while, there was still a downside.

Maya was on the case with them.

And she got hurt.

“Lay her down in here.” Daisy directed as Dean carried his daughter’s unconcious body in his arms.

Dean lay Maya down in her bedroom, Daisy moving around Maya’s folders to make room.

“What happened?”

“Well, we killed the Witch. But not before she could get to Maya.”

Daisy looked to Jack. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“We don’t know. It all depends on her.”

“On her? What--” Daisy looked around confused. This might be normal for them, but not for her.

“She’s trapped in her own mind.” Cas explained. “The spell the witch cast..the only person who can break her out is, well...her.”

“Okay, then it should be easy.”

Dean shook his head. “Not if she doesn’t want to leave.”

“Why wouldn’t she want to....” Then it clicked with Daisy. “She’s living in her memories. They’re her greatest hits, aren’t they? That’s why you look worried.”

They nodded.

“Can’t- Can’t you do anything?”

Cas nodded. “I can. I can go into her mind and try and snap her out of it. It’s our best shot. But, I need permission.”

“Take me with you.”

That was all Dean said, but Cas knew what he also meant.

Cas didn’t like doing this without the actual person’s permission, but Maya needed to be saved. So, pressing a hand onto Maya’s shoulder and onto Dean’s arm, his eyes glowed and seconds later, they found themselves inside Maya’s mind.

It was all black and empty at first, but they could hear all her memories.

Slowly, as Cas reached out, the space around Dean began to change. It went from black and noisy to brown oak wood with walls surrounding them and plenty of pictures hung on the wall.

“She’s in here.”

Slowly, Dean and Cas walked down the hall before turning the corner into the living room. However, they found no-one but a woman.

She had a look of Maya, but it wasn’t her.

Suddenly, however, the Hunter and Angel turned when they heard the sound of a plates clanking together.

That was where they found Maya.

“Kid?”

Cautiously, Maya turned around. What was her dad doing in her dream?

“Dad?”

“Oh, thank god.”

Before Maya knew what was happening, she found Dean hugging her tightly. “You know me? You know who I am? You know who we are?”

“Yeah, of course I do. But...why are you in my dream?”

Suddenly, this was no longer feeling like a dream.

“This isn’t a dream, Maya. This is your memory.”

“My memory? Why would you be-” Then it clicked with Maya. “The witch. Oh, my God. I remember. She-She yelled something and then I blacked out.”

Dean nodded. “There’s not much time to explain but we need to get you out.”

“Okay, how?”

“You need to break yourself out.” Cas told her.

“Break myself out? How?”

“We don’t know.” Dean answered for the both of them.

“Well...has this ever happened to you two? What did you do?”

“We’ve...”

But Dean’s comment that he was about to say was cut short when the woman by the sofa smiled, leaned forward and picked up the plate. The plate that Maya had beside her just a second ago.

“Thank you, honey.”

Dean got a thought. “Remember when I died?”

“Which time?”

“Roy and Walt?”

Cas nodded but Maya cut in for a moment.

“Okay, the fact that you have to specify is concerning.”

“Sam and I...we basically lived through our memories until we could get out. What if that is what this is?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“Maya, do you remember what happened after this?”

“I...”

Suddenly, loud coughs came from the sofa and Maya rushed forward. She picked tissues from the box before holding them in front of her mom who pressed them to her nose and mouth.

“Mom, you need a hospital. Please, I can call grandma and she can help drive you-”

Maya’s mom shook her head. “No. No, it’s just a cold. I promise, honey, I’m fine.”

Maya’s mom leaned back but Maya stayed where she was, crouched beside the couch, watching her mom.

“This was two months before we found out.” Maya explained, everything becoming a little clearer now. “She’d had this cold for a week but part of me knew it wasn’t right. I remember that night I came down the stairs, she had fallen asleep on the sofa and I looked in the trash...” Low and behold, Maya found the used tissues in the trash can beside the sofa. “Blood.”

Maya didn’t say much after that. Just stood up, wiped her eyes and moved away from the living room.

“I need to leave.”

Except, as Maya headed for the front door, it seemed to open into another memory. And a change of clothes.

“Come on, honey. You don’t want to be late for your graduation.”

Maya’s mom left from the doorway after Maya gave a small nod and a smile.

“She looked like death warmed over.” Maya told Dean and Cas. “She tried so hard to put on a brave face. I remember...I remember, we went to Argo’s after this. She ordered a slice of apple crumble and a slice of pie for me.”

By the time they made it downstairs, the found themselves in a large hall. Maya was walking onto the stage, Cas and Dean in the audience. As much as it saddened Dean (and Cas) to see Maya go through her memories, he did a smile a little as seeing his daughter be handed her diploma.

This continued for a short while longer, going through some of Maya’s memories. Seeing her at birthday parties, first making friends with Daisy, Cas having to hold back Dean once Dean spotted a guy in Maya’s class walk up to her to ask her out.

But Maya was called away by a teacher.

And suddenly, with the whole place spinning, they landed inside a house covered in photo’s and and picture albums.

Maya felt like a dagger was being stabbed through her heart.

“What...what is this?”

“Maya?”

All three of them turned around at the sound of someone calling out to Maya.

Her mom.

Her mom was lay in bed, sat up, but even Dean and Cas knew it wasn’t good.��

“Maya?” Her mom called out again.

“Promise you’ll stay with me?” Maya asked, looking to Dean.

Dean nodded. “Promise.”

Maya could already feel her heart breaking with every step she took closer.

With care, Maya listed one foot off the floor and sat beside her mother facing her.

“Honey, I am so proud of you.” Maya’s mom began.

Maya tried her best to smile but the tears were already trying to fight their way out.

“I know. You’ve already told me.”

“And I love you. So much. So so much.”

Tears came from both mother and daughter, but her mom still smiled.

“Oh, honey.” Maya’s mom placed a hand to her cheek whilst Maya’s two hands gripped onto her mom’s other.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I have lived my life and it couldn’t have been better. I watched my beautiful intelligent daughter grow up.” Her mom made sure she was looking into her eyes. “You have his eyes.”

Maya’s mom smiled. “He would have loved you, I just know it.”

Maya ducked her head, more tears falling. However, her head lifted when she felt something be placed into the palm of her hand.

“Mom-”

“You don’t have to, but in case you wanted to.” Her mom told her. “I don’t know if it still works, but it’s his.”

“No, mom-”

“I’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

More tears fell.

“My beautiful daughter, Maya.”

Sobs escaped Maya’s lips as she gripped onto the napkin note and her mom’s hand.

Maya tried her best to force a smile but struggled. Her mom was fading and with each second, the sound of herown heartbreaking - for the second time - echoed in Maya’s ears louder than ever.

“It’s okay. You can go now. I love you, mom.”

“I love you, my beautiful daughter, Maya.”

Her mom’s voice slowly faded away as her soul began to leave her body. All that was left was the sound of tears falling, Maya’s escaping sobs and the sound of Dean’s boots across the floor as he picked up his daughter and held her tighter and closer than ever.

Before they knew it, they opened their eyes and found themselves back inside Maya’s bedroom.

Maya was sat up in her own bed, Dean sat facing her, still holding her.

Sam, Daisy and Jack were all confused but followed Cas out of the room as he waved his hand towards them all.

Cas closed the door on the father and daughter to give them their space.

“Is she okay? What happened?”

Meanwhile, inside the tears didn’t stop.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m here, kid. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Dean reassured her. “I’ve got you, kid.”

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 3 months

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Daddy’s Girl

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader

Synopsis: your life growing up as Dean’s daughter (ignores cannon)

You were born of Dean’s short-lived relationship with Lisa. When he was forced to leave his family behind to keep them safe, he was also forced to take you with him. He’d wanted to leave you, to keep you safe, but with Lisa and Ben’s memories wiped of him, you got wiped with him.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said as Dean held you in his arms. “There’s no way to erase you without erasing her, too.”

Despite how much Dean wanted to keep you safe, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret how things turned out.

…

Sam pursed his lips, and Dean couldn’t hold back his laugh when he spotted his brother covered in broccoli.

You started giggling when you noticed your father’s smile, but Dean clamped his mouth shut when he saw you laughing.

“Hey now,” he scolded, trying desperately to look stern despite still being able to see the broccoli in Sam’s hair. “Don’t throw food.”

“Is yucky!” You whined, kicking your feet.

Dean gave you his signature ‘dad glare’ and you gave him the puppy eyes that he was convinced Sammy taught you just to drive him nuts.

Neither of you were willing to give in, far too stubborn for anyone’s good. Finally, Sam broke the awkward silence.

“How about we try a new veggie?”

…

“What are you watching?”

Dean tore his eyes away from the screen to see Sam standing in the doorway.

“Saw, why?”

Sam scoffed, “Do you think she’s old enough for that?” He gestured to five-year-old you, curled up in your dad’s arms.

“She’s out like a light, she has no clue what’s going on,” Dean assured him.

“So what, she’s your new stuffed animal?” Sam chuckled.

“It’s called parenting, Sammy. Now shut up, you’re gonna wake her up.”

…

“Daddy, look!”

Dean rubbed his hands over his face, closing the lore book in front of him when you came bounding into the war room.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” He asked, his voice thick with exhaustion as he lifted you into his lap.

“I maked the Impala,” you grinned, showing off a pencil sketch of Baby colored in with a black crayon. “Uncle Sammy only helped a little.”

Dean could tell from the detail of the drawing that Sam helped more than a little, but he didn’t care.

“This is great!” He praised. “Baby would be so proud, looks almost as good as her.”

You giggled. “Can I hang it on the fridge?”

“I think it’d be a crime if we didn’t,” Dean insisted, standing up with you in his arms so he could carry you to the kitchen.

…

“Dad!”

Dean staggered back in surprise when ten-year-old you launched yourself into his arms the moment he stepped into the bunker.

“Hey kid,” he chuckled, but his smile dropped when he noticed your strangled breaths, and how tightly you were clinging to him. “You ok? We weren’t gone that lon-“

“Someone’s in the bunker,” you whispered, and Dean now also noticed that you were shaking.

“What?” He demanded, lowering you to the ground and grabbing his gun with one hand, keeping his other hand on your shoulder protectively.

“I-I heard footsteps,” you stammered, still trying to catch your breath. “So I ran, and-and I was looking for a place to hide when you opened the door.”

“You’re sure it was footsteps?”

“I know what I heard!” Your stammer left you when your fear turned to annoyance.

“Ok, ok,” Dean soothed. “I believe you. Now, I want you to go and hide in my room, ok? Stay there, and don’t open the door unless it’s me, understand?”

“B-but…” you glanced around nervously, unwilling to let go of your father.

“I need you to do this,” Dean said. “I need you safe, ok? You’re gonna be fine.”

You nodded, but Dean’s jacket was still clenched between your fingers.

“C’mon now, go!” Dean gave your arm a gentle push, and as soon as the two of you were no longer touching you seemed spurned into action. You ran in the other direction, headed straight for your dad’s room.

Once the door was closed and locked behind you, you immediately went to sit on Dean’s bed, your arms wrapped around your knees as you tried hard to stop your trembling.

You assured yourself over and over again that your dad would take care of it; he’d get the intruder out, and it would all be ok. When you heard footsteps echoing through the hall, your heart lifted, sure that your dad was coming to get you.

But then the doorknob jiggled as someone tried to open it. It stopped, but still no knock came, no “hey, it’s me,” from Dean; nothing.

Until with a loud bang! the door flew free of its hinges.

You scrambled back with a cry of surprise, and your hand found something hard under Dean’s pillow. You snatched it up as the intruder—a tall man with blond hair and a dark suit—stalked towards you.

You lifted the object, surprised when you saw that it was Dean’s gun.

“St-stay back!” You warned. The man hesitated for only a second before continuing his advance towards you.

“You don’t have the guts,” he scoffed. He took one more step—he was only a couple of feet away—and reached out to grab you.

The gun kicked back in your hands as you fired, and you nearly dropped it. A look of morbid shock crossed the man’s face, but it only lasted for a brief second as he slumped to the ground at the side of Dean’s bed.

Your whole body was shaking. Your hands didn’t seem able to let go of the gun. You could feel blood on your face where it had splattered.

“Sweetheart?”

Your whole body flinched at the sound of your father’s voice. He was in the center of the room—you hadn’t even noticed him come in—and his hands were held out towards you.

“Sweetheart, give me the gun.”

Your hands went limp when Dean grabbed the gun. He tossed it onto his bed, his attention never leaving your face, which was turned towards the dead man on the floor.

“Hey, Y/N, look at me,” Dean demanded. Your eyes slowly found your father’s, afraid of what you might find there. But there was no anger, or judgment, not even surprise. There was only comfort, maybe a little worry.

“Let’s go,” Dean said, lifting you into his arms. When he saw you staring at the dead man, he cradled the back of your head in his hand and pushed your face against his shoulder as he carried you out of the room.

“I killed him.”

Your voice came out muffled against Dean’s shirt, and Dean’s heart constricted at the quaver in your voice.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he soothed, subconsciously rocking you in his arms like he used to do when you could barely crawl. “He was gonna hurt you, you defended yourself. You did nothing wrong.” Dean sighed. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I didn’t want you to have to do that.”

“I killed somebody,” you said again, and Dean’s arms tightened around you. He knew he couldn’t talk you out of this; not yet, you were still in shock. So he’d do the only thing he could.

“It’s gonna be ok, baby,” he soothed. “I promise.”

…

“Where is that girl?”

“You lookin for Y/N?” Sam asked as Dean wandered around the bunker.

“Unless we’ve got another girl living here I don’t know about,” Dean shot back.

Sam just rolled his eyes.

“She’s in the library doing homework.”

“Again?” Dean shook his head. “I think I’ve let her spend too much time with you, she’s becoming quite the nerd.”

“Don’t look at me,” Sam chuckled. “I told her to take a break like an hour ago. That nerdy behavior is all her.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean closed the book in front of Sam. “You both need a break.”

“Ok,” Sam shrugged. “Good luck, she’s just as stubborn as you.”

“We’ll see.”

…

“Hey!” You yelped in surprise when your dad lifted you up and out of your chair, Sam watching from the doorway with a grin on his face.

“No more books, you two have spent too much time being nerds this week.”

“But I have a paper to write!”

“You mean that paper you told me is due in three weeks?”

“Well…”

“Uh huh,” Dean said. “You’ve got time, so take a break.”

“On one condition; we watch Lord of the Rings.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam cut in.

“Oh come on,” Dean groaned. “Could you two be bigger nerds?”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t want to watch it,” you giggled, trying to squirm out of Dean’s hold since he still hadn’t put you down.

“I don’t remember asking for your input,” Dean huffed, setting you down on your bed and digging his fingers into your stomach. You squealed in surprise as your dad tickled you. “And I certainly didn’t ask for your sass!”

“Who-who do you thin-think taught it to me!” You giggled, squirming as Dean didn’t let up.

“Hey now!” Dean scoffed. “Now you’re just asking for it.”

Dean continued to scratch and poke at your sides, your stomach, and your neck until your face was bright red and your laughter was silent.

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean said as he let up, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way towards the Dean cave, Sam following behind.

“Yo-hou’re mean,” you giggled.

Dean just chuckled.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

#dean winchester #dean and sam #the winchesters #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #sam winchester x niece!reader

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castiwls · 3 months

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"sacrifice, that's what we do for the people we love"

being the middle child in the winchester family...

I’d imagine you being like two years younger than Dean and two years older than Sam. So like literally the middle child

Your memories of your mum are fuzzy but you can recall a few things

When Mary died you were only two so you didn’t really understand what was going on for a while.

When you all first left Lawernce you spent most of that first night in a motel room crying because you wanted your mom and your bed. (Dean had to comfort you cause John left his two toddlers and baby alone in a motel #dadoftheyear)

When you were like ten your dad told you about what he had been doing for the past eight years. You were terrified but he made you promise not to tell Sam. He also made sure you knew that it was your job to keep Sam safe.

Basically, you stopped being a child at ten.

You and your brothers were really close.

You and Dean basically trauma-bonded over hunting and also having wayyyy too much responsibility at a young age.

Out of you and Dean, you were more emotionally available so Sam tended to tell you more.

As he got older he would talk to you about getting out and stuff. While your dad and Dean were very much into hunting you and Sam were more of on the sidelines.

Sam got his love of reading from you. He’d always tell you about the books he was reading and what he was doing in class.

You’re the mediator for the family. It was always you who broke up fights. You were also able to calm your father down.

Mentioning in a passing comment that you didn’t want to hunt when you were like 15 and John flipped.

“If you don’t want to help kill the thing that killed your mom then you can get out.”

So you did. You left at 15 for 6 months.

In reality, you went to stay with Bobby but you never told your dad that.

Dean begged you to stay and would call every day. So would Sam.

Around this time Sam also started to want to leave.

“I wanna come stay with you.” You sighed leaning against the wall. The phone rested between your ear and shoulder. “You can't Sam. Dad would flip your too young.” He let out a frustrated noise but let the topic go. (for now)

Dean would also call often and beg you to come home.

“Look he didn’t mean it, alright. It was just a heat of the moment thing.”

You did eventually come back. (Bobby wasn’t happy but let you go)

Your brothers were overjoyed and you actually got an apology from your dad (shocker.)

Things were ok for a few years and then Sam got a bit older and started talking about school. He’d only talk to you about it though. It wasn’t that Dean hated the idea but he didn't understand.

One day when you were 18 and he was 16 Sam asked to talk in private. So you took him to a dinner near the motel and he told you about Stanford.

“One of my teachers thinks it's possible.” He pushed the pamphlet towards you. “I just need a signature from an adult and I know Dad won't sign it.” You quietly looked over the pamphlet for a moment. A sense of pride washed over you as well as relief. This was his way out. “Of course, I’ll sign it.”

You both kept it quiet for the next year and when his acceptance letter came in you both kept it to yourselves but you were so proud

#proud parent moment.

Though eventually, Dean found the letter.

“Did you know about this?” He asked holding up the letter. You felt your blood run cold as you grabbed the letter from him. “Yes. I did know.” You admitted. “It was me who signed the papers.” Your brother's eyes widened a look of betrayal crossed his face. “Why would you do that?” His voice began to rise as he spoke. “Because Sam deserves a future Dean.”

You two didn’t speak for a while after that. Dean got over it though.

When it came time for Sam to leave that's when all hell broke loose.

You’d never heard your dad yell so loud. He and Sam went back and forth for hours until your younger brother just walked out. You and Dean both followed him. After calming him down you went with him to the bus and said goodbye.

Dean was kinda non-plussed (inside he hated it and was worried sick). You were worried but happy that he was getting out.

When you and Dean went back to the motel John was furious. He blamed you (of course)

“This is your fault. You're the one who put all those ideas in his head and look what happened.”

Dean jumped in front of you and told him to back off.

“Sam’s his own person you can’t blame her for this!”

After this, you and Dean get closer. John starts taking more hunts alone meaning that you and Dean spend a lot of time just driving around.

You would probably class this as the first time in your life you felt truly happy. Hunting with Dean was easier and there were fewer arguments.

Sam would call u often to update you. When he told you that he’d met a girl you were so happy for him. (it really seemed he got out)

But then your dad went missing and Dean insisted on getting Sam to help.

You were glad to have both your brothers back but at the same time felt insanely guilty as you watched Sam fall back into hunting.

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rustys-lodge · 7 months

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Requested by anon : Can you write a spn fic of dad sam/dean where she texts her dad from her room about needing help because depression gets really bad and she wants to self harm? And dad just helps her ride the wave and comforts her. Thank you

Warnings : Depression, self harm

-------

And without a single warning, the door to your room flew open. And there he was, standing with that empathetic smile on his face.

You'd believe it if you couldn't clearly see the worry glistening in his eyes.

"Is this where my beauty needs help for her sleep ?"

Your lips quivered and a whimper left your lips, causing your dad's shoulders to slump.

Nice try. But the wound is too deep to close up with a simple joke. And the joke is not funny. But your dad got the memo, since he flew to your bed and sat himself beside you.

"Scooch" He commanded before bringing your upper half over his chest. So you layed diagonally on the bed, with your back up to his chest, giving him scape to wrap his arms completely around your neck.

You needed that. Badly. And when your whimpers got louder, your dad hugged you tighter.

"It's bad, dad..." You choked on a sob.

"I know...kid...i know" Your father planted a kiss on your head. And his hands let you go....discreetly traveling down your arms.

He was checking to see if you'd flinch...that would mean you did it again. And you know this move because you've been through this as well.

Him randomly touching your arms, squeezing from time to time to see if it hurts you. At first you pretended like it didn't. But at some point, you realized there's no need to pretend. He knows.

"I didn't do it." You informed him and a slight sigh of relief hit your ear.

"That's my girl." Another kiss fell on the back of your back of your head. "Give me those hands."

You complied and your dad criss-crossed your arms and set your hands on your opposite shoulders, before bringing his own arms over yours.

"I'm here now, kid."

And as weird and narrow as it may have seemed. You were wrapped in a loving embrace.

And although your drowning thoughts were not ceasing, warmth flooded your body and your muscles tensed down...you hadn't slept in a while. It's been hard..Really hard.

With his arms still wrapped around your chest, your dad sung to you, considerably low, guiding you to sleep.

-----

Sorry for the never-changing ending. It seems that comfy fics cannot end any other way. Anyways, hope this helps someone on a lonely night !! ❤️❤️❤️⚘️⚘️⚘️

#winchester daughter #little winchester #father x daughter!reader #daughter reader #daughter!reader #protective father #dean winchester x daughter!reader #dean winchester xdaughter #sam winchester x daughter #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sister!reader #winchester sister #dean winchester x sister #sam winchester x sister

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ellieslittleburrow · 2 months

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Siblings

Summary : You live near campus, away from Dean and Sam. You haven't seen them in a while. How do you react when you find them right at your door?

Pairings : Dean and Sam winchester x sister

Warnings : nooone, just fluff.

A/N : Hi, babies ❣❣ I hope this is as refreshing to you as it was for me.

------

Oil sizzled as you set the stove on the lowest heat. You tossed the chopped up onions into the pan, filling the room with the familiar aroma.

The house phone rang. And you moved the pan aside before heading for the phone. You pressed a button, setting the phone near your ear when a familiar hum sounded.

Oh my god!

"Dean!" You excitedly shouted, earning yourself an "ouch" over the other line. You pressed a another button, opening the complex door for him and since you were only in the third floor, it only took him a quick minute to appear, followed by Sam.

"Hii" You opened your arms, running to embrace both of them. "What a surprise."

"Hey, kiddo." Dean tightly wrapped his arms around you, letting you go when Sam spoke.

"Hey, honey." Sam pulled you into a hug.

"I missed you both so much." Your voice vibrated into Sam's chest. "What are you doing here?"

"Eating, apparently." As Dean's voice went distant, you pulled away from Sam, spinning around to find Dean marching towards the kitchen.

You let out a little chuckle, following behind.

-----

After setting the plates and beers on the table, you plumped down on the couch, waiting for your brothers to join. And as all three of you started eating, an hour and a half of talks about life, uni, cases and john flowed seamlessly.

"So..." Dean coughed. "Anybody in your life....kid?"

You rolled your eyes at Dean's sudden change of voice. You knew this one, a low tone, manipulative and curious. You're not falling for it.

"Nobody, Dean." You smiled at him, not caring that he already knew you were lying.

"Are you sure about that? Because i'm pretty sure you don't wear size 12 flip floppers." He eyed the entry door and you snorted a laugh. Fucking hell..This guy's eyes..

"Leave her alone, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes before turning to you. "As long as you're happy, honey."

You smiled at his response....your eyes darting around the room when silence set in...

"Alright....Time to head out, Dean." Sam slapped his thighs, readying himself to get up when you pushed him back down.

"No!"

"We have to go, honey. We still have 5 hours to go before we get there." Sam argues and you shook your head.

"Please don't....it's only been an hour." You pleaded, looking over at Dean, who, to your surprise, was staring at you with pleading eyes.

He did not want to go either.

"Come on, Sammy. It's-" you spun around to get a look at the clock. "It's 6pm, don't you wanna get some sleep and head back for the road tomorrow morning?."

Sam grimaced. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, honey. I really do want to stay, but we could always stay over on our way ba-."

You turned to Dean, leaving Sam hanging. But Dean was already laid back, quiet, waiting for you to do all the dirty work. That's when Sam spoke again.

"Okay, how about this" He started, and your eyes grew wide, anticipating what's about to happen.

Sam straightened his back as he held his arms out, positioning one hand on top of the other, his right fist resting on top of his left palm. And as Dean understood the assignment, he got up, mirroring sam.

And in silence you watched, as for the very first time, Sam laid a rock, losing the fight as early as the first round.

You burst into laughter as Sam's eyebrows arose. Nobody expected that. And as you lifted your arms up, jumping in pure ecstasy, Dean grinned triumphantly.

"I won."

You nodded. "And you spend the night here."

Sam smacked his hands together. "Alright, then. Let's prep for a night in."

----

And we're done! If yall can spare a minute and tell me about my writiing pleaase? if i should change it up, if it's too repetitive and stuff. No pressure and thanks in advance ❣ 🖤🖤🥀🥀

#winchester sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #sister!reader #sam winchester x sister #dean winchester x daughter!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #sister x brothers #baby winchester #father figure fic #sibling fic #platonic!reader #dean winchester × platonic!reader

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voxmortuus · 10 months

Note

Don't mind me. I'm back. 173. for Soldier Boy please? 🙏🏻😁

✧*̥˚ PAIRING: *̥˚✧ Solider Boy x F!Reader ✧*̥˚ UNIVERSE: *̥˚✧ You ✧*̥˚ WORD COUNT: *̥˚✧ 336 ✧*̥˚ PROMPT: *̥˚✧ From THIS prompt list: 173. “there’s no one else here, be louder” ✧*̥˚ TRIGGER WARNINGS: *̥˚✧ Plot What Plot? | SMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT | Filthy Language | Degradation Kink | Hair Pulling | Taken from behind | Unprotected P-in-V | Implied Cream Pie | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ✧*̥˚ NOTES: *̥˚✧ I will literally write for any character you send me prompts for; I love branching out! So, thank you for sending me Love Quinn! This was a nice break from ATJ and others. ✧*̥˚ DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @nyxvuxoa ✧*̥˚ IMAGE CREDIT: *̥˚✧ Found here. ✧*̥˚ My Master Masterlist *̥˚✧

Roommates? They were gone. There was no one home, and here you were laying in your bed keeping your moans down as Solider Boy had his hands wrapped around your waist thrusting hard into you, the sound of flesh on flesh bounced around the room.

You could tell he was getting frustrated with your lack of verbal enthusiasm about his excellent pelvic thrusts. You were so used to having to keep your moans down due to your roommates. Common respect you know?

Licking your lips he snarled and gripped your hair and jerked your head back and snarled. “There’s no one else here, be louder.”

You blink a few times and with that jerk of your head and the tightness of his grip on your hair, you let out a soft moan.

"Louder." He demands.

Closing your eyes a moment you bite your lip and you close your eyes a little tighter and let out a heavy moan.

"And there it is. Good girl. Keep going." He praises.

Hearing that praise you whimper softly. Doing just as he praised. "Fuck." You moan.

"Fuckin hell… such a tight cunt you've got there Stupid girl. So fuckin wet." he snarls..

"Fuck me harder." You coax.

"Gonna ask nicely stupid girl?"

"Please fuck me… harder." You whimper.

"You want me to fuck that cunt harder?" He asked you softly.

"Yes! Fuck me harder!" You scream.

"You want me to fuck you harder… you better be loud about it." He states.

You begin to moan louder, your moans and screams bouncing off the walls escaping through the cracks from under your door and out the cracked window.

"Such a good fuck doll…" He mused.

Growling your jaw clenched as you gripped into the pillow ahead of you. Your breathing quickens, feeling him use you like the little fuck doll you are.

"Are you gonna fill me up?" You ask through moans.

"I'm going to fill you to the fuckin brim Buttercup… You're gonna fuckin ooze." He chuckled gripping you tightly.

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lost-between-letters · 3 months

Text

Pick me up?

Pairing: Dean Winchester & daughter!reader (she/her)

Requested by: @gabrielasilva1510

Word Count: 798

Warnings: crying, hurt/comfort (heavy on the comfort though)

Summary: Your night makes a turn for the worse. But you have a dad who actually picks up his phone and listens

A/N: look who's not dead (me). I decided to abandon the tag list because I'm not sure how updated it is anymore

This was worse than any monster he had ever faced before, Dean decided. Certain death by the next most freaky thing this world could come up with? A piece of cake compared to this.

His little girl. His pretty, brave, witty daughter shaking with gutwrenching sobs, clinging to his jacket like her life depended on it - mere seconds after he'd stopped the car in front of the house she and her friends had gone to for the night.

Dean wanted to go back into that frat-house, and find the fucker who made his girl cry like that. But Y/N was here, holding onto him, and if there was one thing he had learned on the road, then it was to know when to pick your battles.

So he didn't act on the violent thoughts threatening to cloud his mind and instead hugged Y/N tighter. He cupped the back of her head, easing over the messy up-do that must have come undone at some point of her night out, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Seeing Y/N smile again was more important than finding the cause of her tears. For now.

But it was freezing here, and he had a perfectly functioning car right behind him. A car Dean knew his daughter loved just as much as he did.

"Sweetheart, how do you feel about getting out of here?"

She burrowed her head deeper into his chest and nodded. "Please, dad."

So he carefully extracted himself from the hug and followed her around the car to open the door for her. She slid in without another word and immediately curled up in the seat.

It tore at his heart. To see his outgoing daughter - the same girl who'd faced down a phalanx of angry ghosts while giving her uncle shit for his fighting techniques - so small. Dean took off his jacket, draped it over her frame and got in the car himself before she could comment.

The first few miles, he let the radio wash over them, pretending that he didn’t hear the quiet sniffles from the passenger seat. Dean didn't have a particular destination in mind - and he didn't need one. Y/N was much like Sam in that aspect - she didn't need space, she needed background noise, and a moving vehicle to stop her mind from spinning. And what was better than the low rumble of the impala and abandoned roads?

Soon, Y/N was drumming her fingers on her knees in time with the song, and Dean knew the worst was over.

He dared to look over at her fully now. "Wanna talk about it?"

She snorted. "That's Sam's line."

"Watch it," he threatened playfully, almost embarrassed by the all-consuming relief he felt at that little laugh.

"You watch it, old man." She shot back, but she was smiling as well.

The smile faltered as a thought, or maybe a memory, crossed her mind, and Y/N leaned her head against the window. The street lights illuminated the tear tracks on her cheeks. "I don't wanna talk about it."

No. That just wouldn't do. His daughter was not allowed to be sad, and Dean was about to find out who would pay for this.

"Sweetheart -"

"Please, dad." She tugged his jacket higher around her shoulders. "Not tonight. I don't want to think about it anymore."

After a long moment, Dean sighed. It wasn't like screaming would help. She'd just get stubborn and close off.

It wasn't even like Dean wanted to rage. Not at her, at least.

So he took a few deep breaths like Sam had advised him to (and gotten mercilessly ridiculed for) and nodded. "Okay. Not tonight."

Y/N smiled genuinely for the first time since she called him crying. "Thank you. For coming and picking me up."

Dean reached over and squeezed her knee. "That's what dads are for, Y/N. I'll always come when you need me."

He would. He'd promised her when she was just a wrinkly frowny ball of newborn, tiny eyes blinking up at him in that wretched hospital. Dean would be there for his daughter, whether it was guns blazing and fighting or nights curled up under blankets with only chocolate and heating pads - because growing up was a lonely affair without someone you could hold onto. But his little girl would never have to find that out firsthand. Dean made sure of that.

"So you'll agree to watch Mamma Mia with me?" She looked at him hopefully, knees pulled up on the seat, her eyes still red and swollen. "Auntie Charlie got me the DVD, and it really would cheer me up now. Please, dad?"

Dean groaned. Since when had she gotten so devious?

"Fine, you little monster."

#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester & daughter!reader #supernatural fic

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yourmomxx · 10 months

Text

Family Line

father of mine masterlist

summary: the hunt for the monster starts. We find out what happened all those years ago between Dean and his daughter.

warnings: canon violence, child abandonment, swear words, angst, daddy issues, character death, descriptions of blood, descriptions of murder, this is written like an episode of Supernatural

word count: 8,5k

a/n: we did it, guys! this is the last part of the father-of-mine series. I’m really sorry about the late upload, but I do hope it was worth the wait! This might be the ending of this series, but not quite the ending of the story … thank you all so much for sticking around and supporting this story, sequels and prequels about dean and his daughter will definitely come!

pt1 pt2 pt3

Sioux Falls 2007

It was late at night, and in Bobby Singer’s Junkyard, the lights were still on. Accompanying the chirping tunes of the cicadas, a fading pop song from somewhere in the ‘70s was trailing out the windows.

On the small wooden table in the kitchen, Dean and Sam Winchester had spread out a multitude of lore books found in Bobby’s bookshelf, some worn out, some torn, and Sam was currently leaned over a particularly ugly-written paragraph dedicated to the magical use of a pan’s flute.

“Dean, I can hear you being silent.” Sam raised his head to look his older brother in the eye. “What is it?”

Dean shrugged, threw a look at the numerous variations of old books about supernatural creatures laid out in front of them, then at his little brother.

“You’re overworking yourself, Sammy,” Dean pointed out. The keyboard clicked as he typed something on the laptop.

“Dean, we’ve been over this,” Sam said. “I’m just trying to find a way for you to not die. You can’t exactly blame me for that.”

“Yes, exactly, we’ve been over it,” Dean countered. “And I told you there’s no way around it. I made a deal, that’s it. Period, no refunds.”

Sam clenched his jaw. “Well, I don’t want that to be it.” He muttered under his breath.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself when they heard the sound of tiny footsteps over the floor.

Dean perked up and turned his head.

“Hey, my little love.”

A while ago, the soft tone in his brother’s words would have caught Sam completely off guard. By now, he was already getting used to the way Dean’s eyes had a different look in them – one of pure love – and he spoke with a softness as if his words alone should wrap their recipient up in satin cloth.

Sam turned around to look at who Dean was talking to, and was not surprised to see a small girl trutting towards them, little legs still uncoordinated after only just waking up. Her small fists were rubbing her squinted eyes, the light in the living room must be blinding her.

Y/N made her way over to Dean and made grabby hands up at him.

Dean chuckled and picked his daughter up under her arms, placing her carefully on his thigh as she nuzzled into his dark flannel shirt.

Sam smiled at the contrast of Dean’s shirt, and her bright yellow children’s nightgown with the washed out Led Zeppelin-logo printed on.

Dean’s big hand was rubbing circles on her back, as he craned his neck to bow it down to her.

“What are you doing awake so late, sweetheart?” He hushed.

Y/N nuzzled her nose into his neck. “’d a bad dream,” she mumbled.

Sam could see the emotion cross over his brother’s face for a brief second as he made eye contact with him.

They both knew that this could – would – happen. That little girl had been through so much already, at her young age, had seen and lost things no child should ever see or lose.

They both had known that nightmares would probably eventually start haunting her, but yet, they had still not been prepared for when it was the time.

Dean didn’t know what he should be feeling, his daughter had had a nightmare, and all he wanted was to wrap his arms around her, keep her there, and kill everything in her way to becoming happy.

But he knew he couldn’t do that. And that’s why he wanted to, so much more.

“Really?” He asked instead, hand not leaving her back. “Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

“Everybody was leaving me,” Y/N sniffled, small fist rubbing her nose. “You, Auntie Ellen, Jo, Uncle Sam, Grandpa Bobby.” Another sniffle.

“I was all alone.”

Dean felt like sobbing. A heavy weight had latched itself on his heart. Oh, his little girl. How much he loved her.

“Sweetheart, it was just a bad dream,” he promised to her. “We are not going to leave you alone, I swear.”

Y/N pulled her face from the crook of his neck and looked up at him with red rimmed eyes.

“Pinky promise?” She asked.

Dean lifted his free hand and linked his pinky finger with hers. “Pinky promise,” he said.

Something told him he had made a mistake. But he couldn’t care right now.

Still, he felt like a liar.

“Now,” he said, a conspiratorial tone in his words, “What do you say we get you back to bed and I stay until you fall asleep, hm? How does that sound?”

Y/N didn’t fuss long about it, she just nodded her head and nuzzled closer to him.

Dean understood the silent command, and lifted her into his arms as he stood up. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Sam looked after them as they disappeared up the stairs. Now alone, he turned his attention back to his research. Why he was reading everything about the dog Cerberus right now, he couldn’t quite decipher, but he was grasping onto every straw.

A few minutes passed by, and Dean was still not back. Another few, another few.

Sam frowned as he looked at the clock on the wall. 5.13 in the evening. Sam realized now that the clock was broken.

Curtly, he stood up from the table and climbed the stairs to the bedrooms.

The door to Y/N’s room was open, hiding the colored sign she had written her name on (with Dean’s help) to inform everyone of her territory.

Careful to be quiet, Sam stepped closer to the threshold, peeking into the dark room. A dim night light in the form of a crescent moon was burning on the nightstand. In the bed laid a small bundle of blankets and stuffed animals, which Sam could only guess was Y/N.

Next to her, holding the girl in his arms, Sam spotted Dean, probably holding on for dear life on the edge of the narrow bed.

Sam smiled at them.

Through the silence, a soft, hummed melody reached Sam’s ears, and he perked up.

He knew that song from somewhere, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Na-na na na. Nana na-a.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Dude, are you singing her Smells like Teen Spirit?”

Dean looked at him, grinning. “Yeah. It’s a classic.” As if it was the most obvious thing in the world and Sam was the stupid one.

“I mean, look at her,” he said, his gaze shifting to his daughter again. “She’s gonna be a badass one day. Right? One day, you’re gonna be as badass and cool as your daddy.”

Oh yeah, that girl was out like a light.

Sam just shook his head chuckling. “All right, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Dean didn’t answer him, but he knew he heard him.

A few minutes after Sam had left, currently sitting at the kitchen table again, starting a new chapter of the same book, Dean came downstairs.

Wordlessly, he took his seat across from Sam, and pulled one of the lore books closer to him.

And though he had an idea where his brother’s new sense of determination came from, Sam didn’t say a word when Dean started reading.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

Now

When you called, for a brief second Sam was worried that Dean was gonna crash the car. The way his face morphed into shock, concern and then anger, while he was talking to you on the phone had his little brother worried.

After you hung up, Sam pretended not to notice the way Dean pushed further into the gas pedal.

The first rays of the morning sunlight made their way over the hills, when Sam and Dean arrived at the Group Home. Dean didn’t bother with a neat parking maneuver, and just turned the motor off, then made his way with fast steps over to the castle.

Sam trailed behind.

They had no problem entering the building, Maria had given them an official key card for their investigations. Dean stormed down the hallways with a fast step, as if he had memorized the entire way by heart.

Sam wouldn’t blame him.

You were sitting on your bed when they came in. Or more, cowering there.

Sam was all too familiar with the look of disturbed terror in your eyes, even when you firmly avoided looking at either of them.

“Y/N?” Dean moved a step forward, stretching his hand out towards you as if to soothingly touch your shoulder, but hesitated in his movement and pulled away.

Sam threw him a worried look that Dean didn’t seem to catch.

“What happened?”

Your fingers were continuously drumming against your knee pulled close to your chest.

“’d a bad dream,” you mumbled. Sam could hear the fear in your voice. Dean sat down in your chair opposite the bed.

“When I woke up, there was …” You swallowed and hardly squinted your eyes. “I don’t know what it was. Looked like two yellow … eyes.”

Sam couldn’t help the disgusted twist his face made at the word. He couldn’t imagine waking up to something like this.

Dean exchanged a look with him. Your story confirmed their theory even more.

On the bed, you had gone quiet again. Your fingers were still drumming an uneven pattern on your skin.

This didn’t make sense. This didn’t make sense. She was dead, Cass was dead. Roy was dead. Dean Winchester was here. He left you, and now he was here, but not for you, no, but for Roy. They were all dead.

And you were next.

“Have you ever heard of an alp?” Your head snapped up as Dean’s question pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“An Alp?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “I mean - yes, I came across that lore when I was still taking German literature.”

“You took German Literature?” Dean regretted his question as soon as he asked it.

“Yes,” you answered, but something had shifted in your tone. It was low and pressed. Shit. He knew he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. Sam felt like smacking his brother across the head.

“So you know what they are?” He asked instead, and you shrugged, looking at your feet again.

“Yes, well, I know that the Germans believed that an Alp would sit on their chests while they slept, and it would feed on their good dreams - plaguing the sleeping person with terrible nightmares. That’s why they used to have shortened beds, because if they weren’t lying down, the alp couldn’t sit on their chest.”

While you talked, realization hit you like a brick. Or more like a huge wave, rather, if the feeling of being violently ripped of all air was anything to go by.

“Oh my God,” You breathed out. “Cass and Roy both had nightmares before they died.” You looked between Dean and Sam with shock-widened eyes. “This Alp thing was the reason for all of this, right? I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

“Not if we have a say in it.” Dean’s jaw remained stoically clenched as he spoke his promise.

“What did you dream about?” Sam asked.

You ducked your head even further into yourself and picked at the skin next to your nails. “’s it important?”

“It could be.”

You took a deep breath and bit the inside of your cheek. “Same as Roy,” you simply said. “Worst day of my life.”

And, okay. Sam didn’t get into college for being slow, he knew exactly what day that was. And judging by the brief flicker of emotion crossing over Dean’s face, he knew, too.

But he didn’t address it and only cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Look, if it really is an Alp – which it probably is – then we already know how to get rid of it.”

“We would lure it into a trap. You know, get us some … bait and then just –“ Dean symbolically dragged a finger across his throat.

You raised your eyebrows in concern. “And how do you think that’s gonna work?”

Admittedly, this hadn’t been your smartest moment, but given the circumstances you were in, you figured you could be forgiven.

Sam dipped his head. “That’s where you come in.”

“You can always say no,” Dean carefully offered. “If you don’t want to do it.”

You lifted your chin in the air. “This thing is the reason two of my best friends are dead,” you said. “I want to pay back the favor.”

Sam nodded. “Alright then.”

“So you guys got a plan?” You asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look and Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we do.”

—

It was loud in the cafeteria. It always was. Today, though, you were especially aware of it, because most of the noise was heavily directed towards you.

Or rather, about you, which had just the same effect in your opinion.

You had barely entered the big room and had already felt a few dozen eyes fixated on you. The whispering had started when you got closer to the buffet, and the occasional double-take and looking-fast-away-when-she-is-looking had continued when you had sat down.

Of course, how else should it be, you had been given the rehearsed “My condolences” or “I’m so sorry for your loss”.

Long story short, to you it felt like the day of Roy’s death all over again.

Except this time, they were serving pasta, and not chicken with rice.

It was days like these (which, in your opinion, had been happening far too often over the past few weeks), that made you hate this place even more. It’s not like you had had a reason for that before, the supervisors were nice, so were the helping staff and, of course, Maria.

Maria, who had taken you under her wing from the first day you arrived here. She had acted like a mother towards you, the one you had never had, no matter how hostile you had acted towards her.

Still, as you grew older, the whole thing felt simply more washed out and sickening.

Maybe this really was just a side effect of puberty, as your gynecologist had said.

As you let your gaze travel over the many familiar faces, you couldn’t help but notice that Finn wasn’t under any of them.

Finn, your beloved Finn. You then suddenly remembered the text conversation the two of you had had the other night. Before, well – everything. You still needed to stay true to that.

Silently, you made a note to yourself in your head, to drop by his room straight after lu-

A broad silhouette squeezing into the seat opposite you blocked your view over the hall, and your eyebrows shot up as you realized who it was.

“Uhm, hello?” You asked as Dean folded his hands on the table.

“You told everyone I was dead?” He asked, purposely skimming over your question.

You frowned and opened the small package of parmesan. “Well, aren’t you? About six times?”

Dean frowned and you caught him counting something under his breath with his fingers.

You shook your head, making a point of ignoring him and poured sauce over the dry spaghetti.

“That’s not even my point.”

“What, you’re saying you didn’t barge into the middle of my lunch – after the night I had – to scold me over the inaccuracy of your death rate?” You clicked your tongue. “Surprise.”

Dean apparently didn’t deem it necessary to address your sarcastic tone. That, or he knew just how much he deserved it, which you were fine with, either way.

“Look,” he started, and Jesus, this was going to be serious. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened last night.”

Confused, you tilted your head.

“I mean about the dream,” Dean quickly added. “I mean, we both know what it was about, and I just …” He cut himself off, cleared his throat, and let out a short breath that was probably supposed to be failed attempt at a laugh.

“I’m not a big … talking guy, you know? But I just … I always told myself, if I ever had kids, that I would be different then. That …” He stopped again.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

You scoffed. “You’re a bit late for that,” you spat. “I mean, it’s been what, almost a decade? ‘Sorry’ travels far, but not that many years.”

“I know that,” Dean said, “But I want you to know, that-“

“Well, I don’t want to know!” You interrupted him. Maybe too loud, if the simultaneous turn of heads was anything to go by. “I don’t want you to tell me anything. No excuses, no explanations, I want, and I need absolutely nothing from you, you understand?”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek.

“Believe me, I do.” He said. “But still-“

“No!” The dishes clattered as you slammed your hand on the table. “Dean, you don’t understand! You just left me here, at this orphanage –“

“It’s a group home.”

“Same thing, Dean!” You snapped. “Just a fancier word.”

Dean carefully pulled his hand away from the table, folding it with his other in his lap. You could feel him watching you, but you consequently avoided his gaze.

“Look, I’m not gonna have this conversation right now,” You decided. “I am going to go talk to my best friend, and when I go to sleep, I’ll try not to get killed! So goodbye.”

And with that, you picked up your still full lunch-tray, dumped it on one of the cleaning wagons, and made your way out of the cafeteria.

You never turned around to see Dean looking after you.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

St. George, Louisiana 2012

Dean Winchester was standing by a window. Through the clean glass he had a clear view of green gardens, well-kept flowers and trees leaning in the soft breeze of the wind.

Further away, he spotted the tall hedge walls of something that had to be a garden maze.

“I hope you know just how grateful I am for what you and your brother did for me.”

The voice of Maria Whitlock lifted Dean out of his thoughts, and he turned around to face the older woman.

She spoke in a soothing tone, one that reminded him of a mother he never had, but learned to long for.

Dean nodded. “That’s our job.”

Maria gave him a look and tilted her head. He was standing in her office, a neatly tidied room with a shelf for books and files, and a rather expensive looking desk. Very clean as well.

“What you decided to do was probably very hard,” she continued. “But I can assure you, in most cases, it turns out to be the better option for both parties.”

He didn’t like the way she talked about his plan like it was a good thing, when it wasn’t. It didn’t make him a good person for doing it.

“I’m sure, Dean, that there will be a lovely family out there who will take care of her –“

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant.” He quickly interrupted her. It was the first time in here he had spoken more than for words. “I don’t … I don’t want someone else to take her in.”

Maria raised her skeptical eyebrows at him. “Do I understand correctly, Dean?” She asked. “You want her to just - stay here?” And her tone was implying exactly what she held of that idea.

“Look, I know how that sounds.”

“I really hope you do.”

“But my job doesn’t allow me to properly take care of her. When Bobby was still - well, she stayed with him, and we visited her from time to time.”

Maria nodded. “I understand. But what you have to understand, is, that this will surely not be easy for her. Whereas many of the elder children indeed do live here, the younger ones are usually adopted by a foster family who can take care of them. Who can love them,” she added.

Dean looked out the window again.

“I understand that,” He said. “But this is how I want it.”

He couldn’t see Maria behind him, as he was turned away from her, but he could well sense the way her observing, maybe judging gaze was burning between his shoulder blades.

“Well, then.” She sighed.

And as Dean watched the flowers dance in the wind, listening to Maria shuffling through her papers, he couldn’t help but think that this might be one of the most selfish decisions he has ever made.

—

Soft wind was tugging at Dean’s hair. Somewhere in the distance he was aware of the rippling water of a small fountain.

Dean tried to not actively think of what he was doing here. Of the consequences his actions would inevitably cause. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Y/N’s hand was holding his in a strong grip, as they walked up to Maria and he greeted her.

Maria leaned down to be on eye level with his daughter and smiled at her.

“Hello Y/N, it’s very nice to meet you. Your Dad has told me so much about you! I’m sure you’ll settle in here just nicely.”

Dean crouched down and placed both his arms on Y/N’s for her to look at him. She had been eyeing Maria and the castle suspiciously.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he started. “Maria is really, really nice. And because Uncle Sam and I have to work so much, she is going to take very good care of you.”

Y/N averted his eyes and stared at her shoes. Then, sh burst forward, slung her small arms around Dean’s neck and buried her face in his chest.

“I wanna go with you,” she mumbled into his jacket. Dean sighed. With a heavy heart, be broke out of the embrace. “I promise I’m old enough, I want to go with you!” She pleaded again. With every word, Dean’s heart shattered just a bit more.

“Look, you remember when you stayed with Grandpa Bobby for a while when me and Uncle Sammy had to work?” She nodded, sniffling.

“This is gonna be just like that. I promise.”

Y/N sniffled again. Then she held out her hand to him. “Pinky promise?”

I promise that we’ll be fine.

I promise that we’d never just leave you alone.

I promise that Grandpa Bobby will be alright.

Dean pulled Y/N into his chest again. He breathed in deep, as if that would somehow help him savor this moment, savor her to be engraved in his brain to never forget. His little girl, the only thing good and pure in his life.

“Have fun, sweetheart,” he said when they broke apart again.

He stood up, and even though he wasn’t that old, everything in his body hurt at the movement.

“But I don’t know anyone here!” Y/N said again. It has been her go-to argument the entire car ride to the castle.

“I want to go with you and Uncle Sam!”

“Y/N!” The sharpness in Dean’s tone felt like it was cutting him. “I said you can’t.”

Her bottom lip started to tremble, before a big tear rolled down her cheek. Then another one, and another one, until she was full-on sobbing.

“Please, Dad!” She cried, and Dean’s heart shattered.

Behind her, Maria put a caring hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, sweetie, say goodbye to your dad.”

Y/N violently shook her hand off her body. “No! No, I don’t want to go with you! I want to stay with my dad!”

Maria and Dean exchanged a look. In her eyes, he recognized something that told him to change his mind.

It took everything in Dean to turn around and walk away.

He fixated his eyes on his car a few feet away from him. He wasn’t walking very fast, but with the weight that felt tied to his feet, it was the best he could do.

Behind him, Y/N kept crying. And as she was pleading and pleading, for him to come back, for him to stay, the feeling of realization started heavily sinking in, that he was really waking away.

Not only from this situation, from his daughters cries, but from her. From his child.

His feet felt even heavier.

When he reached the car door and opened it, he didn’t feel anything. Everything happened in a haze. He vaguely registered starting the car and pressing his foot on the gas pedal.

His daughter’s sobs were still replaying over and over in his mind like the sounds of a broken vinyl, as the naked road flew by the dirty windows.

Sam didn’t address the single tear that rolled down his brother’s cheek. And Dean just kept driving.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

Now

Since forever on, you had never been quite good with your emotions. Portraying them, talking about them, feeling them.

It was an obstacle.

Looking back at it, you figured it was probably somehow running in your family, the whole being emotionally unavailable thing.

Could that be inherited? According to your biology teacher, yes, but you didn’t know how well you believed that.

Nevertheless, as you knocked on the cold door that was the entrance to your - only left – best friend’s room, emotions welled up in your throat as choking as a tidal wave clashing its weight over your head.

It was dark in there. The curtains had been pulled closed and the thick material wouldn’t let a flicker of daylight in the room.

A smell hung over the entire place, of stale air and leftover food, and the sensation of hopelessness. Finn was sitting on the edge of his bed, a dark silhouette staring crooked at his hands in his lap, only illuminated by the weak light of the bedside lamp.

Without properly acknowledging him, you took quick strides to the other side of the room, and without further ado, ripped his curtains open.

The sun was already lowering down the horizon again, but the leftover light was still enough to turn the dark silhouettes in the bedroom into concrete shapes, of dirty plates, glasses, and clothes scattered all over the floor.

From his place on the bed, Finn groaned lowly, like a small bear being awaken from hibernation.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes as you sat down next to him. The bed dipped under your weight and you moved over a few study sheets that laid on his duvet.

“Hey,” you said.

Finn dropped his hands into his lap again and turned his tired gaze on you.

“Hey,” he said back.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Finn’s eyes tiredly scanned the room around him, the mess it was in, and then shook his head.

“Nah.”

“Alright.” You weren’t, really, but that conversation could wait until another time.

“How you holdin’ up?”

Finn tilted his head to you in a way that said ‘Ain’t it obvious?’ and you shrugged in response. “Stupid question, got it.”

Finn sighed.

There was a silence building between the two of you that you didn’t like. You kept yourself from fidgeting impatiently on the sheets.

“I just-“ Finn cut himself off and ruffled his hand through his hair. “Ever since – well, yesterday – I’ve been thinking about …”

He broke off again, blinking with his face towards the ceiling to avoid the falling of tears.

“Y/N, the last thing I said to her, was – we fought.” Finn’s confession was almost a whimper as he looked at you, awaiting your reaction.

Your heart broke at the look in his eyes, so clouded full with guilt and self-loathing, you almost didn’t recognize him.

“Oh, Finn, she loved you.” You sighed, and placed a gentle yet firm hand on his arm. “She knew what you were going through, what we were all going through. And trust me, she never, not for a second, held it against you. That was one moment out of almost ten years we all spent together. It didn’t mean anything, not in the long run.”

Finn sniffed and rubbed his nose, diverting his gaze to his hands again.

“Finn, she didn’t die hating you.” You put emphasis on every word as much as you could, because you wanted him to hear you, to understand, to believe. You didn’t want to let him wallow in his own self-destructing thoughts about something that wasn’t even true, not in the slightest bit.

Finn just hummed, but didn’t meet your eyes, just kept them trained on his lap. You sighed and let your hand slowly slide from his arm.

For a while, it was quiet again.

“My father is here,” you then blurted out.

Finn’s eyebrows shot up. “The one that died?”

“Yeah.” You weighed your head. “In my defense, I thought he died too, until he showed up in a fancy suit, investigating my best friend’s murder.”

The typical phrase of ‘seeing gears turning in someone’s head’ was the only way you would describe what you were seeing displayed on Finn’s face right now, just before the realization hit him.

“Wait, your father’s one of the hot FBI agents?”

You pursed your lips and nodded.

Finn blinked in disbelief.

“Wow,” He breathed out.

“Yup.” You said, popping the ‘p’. “Just got a lot less hot, huh?”

Finn raised his hands in surrender and shook his head. “For my own safety, I’m really not gonna answer that.”

You let out a laugh and playfully shoved him with your shoulder.

“Idiot.”

Finn grinned. “You love me.”

You hummed. “You’re right, I really do.”

A long while later, the door closed behind you again with a click.

Finn had to promise you to get in touch with you if he felt the need to, and to at least try and keep his room in order. After a brief conversation of how his view of himself and his ‘need to call you’ was very different from yours, you had hugged him and decided to leave.

Before you had walked out, your hand had rested on the handle, and you had turned around to Finn, not quite looking him in the eye.

“You know I love you too, right?” You had said. “No matter what happens.”

Finn frowned, but if he got suspicious, he didn’t mention it. “I know. Same here.”

You swallowed and nodded.

Then you left the room.

Now you were standing outside of his door, gaze drifting into the distance, and the same weight that had been lifted off your shoulders replaced by another one, just as heavy.

Funny, how, even if indirectly, saying your Goodbyes, made the lingering presence of death looming over you like a dark shadow much more real. If only one thing went wrong tonight, then-

You shook your head at the thought. No, Sam and Dean were going to take care of it, they promised. You had to put their trust into them with this.

But if tonight really was it, then you were content with the feeling that the last conversation you had, had been with Finnegan Beckett.

The walk back to your room stretched longer than usual.

Sooner than you would like it to, the sun disappeared behind the hills and night reigned over the land.

Sam and Dean were standing in your room, rehearsing their – honestly, pretty vague – plan with you, making sure you knew exactly how everything would go down. To be fair, you didn’t really play a big part in the whole thing, but it was nice having some sort of reassurance.

“Alright, so you know what to do?” Sam questioned once again.

Slowly, you nodded your head. “Lay still and look pretty,” you joked. “And try not to get killed.”

“Leave that last part to us,” said Dean. “You don’t have to worry about anything. By the time you wake up, everything will be over.”

You nodded.

You had seen it in Dean’s eyes, that he wasn’t all in with the idea of using you as bait, but you had done it nevertheless.

You weren’t a little child anymore, especially not his, he wasn’t going to decide what you wanted or not wanted to risk.

You took a deep breath that lifted your shoulders and huffed it back out. You were going to do this. It was easy.

—

Like hell it was.

Whoever told you you had the easiest part of the plan had been fucking lying to you. Turns out, sleeping is way harder with the knowledge of probable death hanging over your head like a dark cloud.

Every time your eyes slipped closed, a glimpse of doubt squeezed its way into your mind. What if Sam and Dean didn’t make it? What if everything went wrong? What if, in the end, you did die?

The sheets were already pooling crumbled by your feet when you slipped out of consciousness.

The mass of hot bodies pressing together and towering over you was clamming. A figure was running away from you, you were chasing after it. You smelt old leather and gunpowder. It made you feel comforted. You wanted more of it.

Gravel clattered underneath your boots as you got out of the car on your own, like all the big girls would.

“Look, Daddy!” But Daddy wasn’t there.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” There she was again, the nice girl with the black hair. She held out her hand and you went to grab it, her warm presence looming you in, and then the floor opened up under your feet and you were falling into nothingness.

Your heart pounded rapidly in your chest, as you startled awake in your bed, feeling your lungs tighten up and making it hard to breathe.

Your panicked gaze flew to the door of your room – wide open, the light of the hall casting a dim shadow into the room.

“Wha- Sam! Dean!” Hastily, you pulled the covers off your body and hurried out the door. Something must have gone wrong, terribly, terribly wrong.

You followed the sound of footsteps and scuffle down the hallway, turned the lights on where it had gone off at a few junctions.

Your breathing was still shallow, but you pushed through that and your still dazing mind, adrenaline pumping through your veins with every step you took.

Rapidly turning around another corner, you almost stumbled over the long legs of Sam’s body on the floor. You came to an abrupt halt and kneeled worried next to him.

“Sam? Oh my God, are you-“

Sam groaned and moved his head, eyes still pressed shut. “’s strong,” he babbled, and you tried your hardest to understand what he was saying.

By the way he was slurring his words, you had well reason to think he had suffered a concussion.

“It’s alright, stay here,” you ordered him, as he tried to sit up.

Only then, you first noticed the struggling noises a few feet away from you, and lifted your eyes away from Sam to check where they were coming from.

What you saw almost made your heart drop into your stomach.

Not that far away from you, maybe a few armlengths, was Dean, laying on the floor on his back just like his brother. But he was wrestling with something sitting on his chest, something small and hairy, hunchbacked like an old witch but only with the size of a cat.

The thing, which had to be the Alp, had long, bony limbs, and was fighting tooth and nail, hissing, biting and scratching, against Dean.

It reminded you of a gremlin, of sorts.

In your head, you heard Roy’s voice scold you, “There’s a distinct difference between all supernatural creatures. Elves don’t equal fairies, and gremlins don’t equal goblins, because while gremlins are fuzzy and cute in the beginning and only bad later when they turn, goblins have always been known for harassing humans.”

Alright, so no gremlin then.

Near you, Dean was still rolling around on the floor, fighting for the upper hand with the Alp.

Your heart sped up as you realized that something had to be wrong. Because why wasn’t he just killing it?

“So how do you kill it?”

Sam pulled something out of his duffel bag and turned it in his hands, the dim light of your lamp reflecting on the material. “Silver dagger dipped in vampire blood.” He spoke.

“Wait – vampires bleed?”

Dean scoffed. “This isn’t Twilight, kiddo. Yes, vampires bleed.”

You shrugged and inspected the phial he had laid into your hand. “I was thinking more of Fear Street, but alright.”

Dean ignored that he didn’t know what that was, but made a mental note to look it up later.

Sam stuffed the dagger back into his arsenal.

“You don’t have to worry about that part, though,” He assured you. “That’s what we’re here for.”

Dean nodded. “He’s right. You just dream sweet, and we’ll handle the rest. Fool-proof.”

You nodded, passing Dean the blood back. You could only hope they were right.

The shining silver of the dagger caught your eye. It had most likely been scattered away from Dean and landed near a wall, far out of his reach.

You took quick steps over to pick it up, Dean’s struggling grunts making you alert, and probably the reason why you didn’t think about what you did next, you just did it.

The silver dagger felt light in your hands, coated in the dark fluid of what had to be vampire blood. The blade reflected the clinical white light from the hallway as you lifted it up over your head, and, using the strength of both your hands, pushed it with force into the monster’s upper torso.

The squelching sound it made, as it penetrated bristly fur, skin, and organs, would later make you feel repulsed and gagging, sort of like nails scratching on a blackboard, but in this moment, you just clenched the dagger tighter and pushed it further into the monster’s chest.

The screech it let out could not be compared to any animalistic sounds you had ever heard before. In a swift move, you pulled the weapon out of the Alp’s body, and the small creature slumped to the floor right next to Dean.

You waited for a second. Two, three panting breaths. Dean was the first to move. He put a hand somewhere where the thing’s neck should be.

Then, swallowing in-between his hard breaths, he nodded. “Done,” was all he said. But it was enough for a sigh of relief to leave your tired lungs, and you sunk to the ground right next to him.

Looking closer at its lifeless body, the Alp had more similarity with one of those dead, stuffed animals that hunters hung in their houses as trophies. But maybe that was just rigor mortis.

Through your haze, you barely registered Dean clapping a firm hand on your shoulder. You turned your head to look at him, eyes suddenly feeling heavy as the adrenaline was wearing off. Like sucking air out of a balloon.

“You did good today, kid.” He said, and though you were tired, in his eyes you could see that he meant it. It filled your chest with a warmth that hadn’t been at home in there since … God knows when, and it made you smile.

Near you, Sam staggered closer, still holding his hurting ribs, and tilted his head as he squinted his eyes at the lifeless Alp before you.

“Is it just me or does it … look like a cat?”

You and Dean both looked over at him, and then at the dead monster on the floor.

“Looks more like a gremlin-goblin hybrid,” You panted. “A gromblin.”

Sam threw you a look of pure confusion, while Dean was grinning proudly. You smiled back. It felt honest.

And very likely, it was.

-- It was quiet again.

From the fight and struggles a few days ago was no trace left, as you stood by your desk and sorted through some old photographs you had replaced on your wall.

The pictures you were sorting through mostly showed you, Finn, Roy and Cass together.

At school, at the movies, going out to eat.

You sighed and plucked some tape from the back of another one.

Right at that moment, a knock sounded from your door. Without even looking up from Cass and Roy smiling at you, holding a stray cat, you let out a “Come in,” at the person on the other side of the door.

The familiar sound of the hinges creaking signified the opening and closing of the door. And then, Dean Winchester was standing in your room.

“Uhm …” He was rubbing his neck awkwardly, as you looked at him expectantly.

“Hey. What’s up?” You asked, and put the photographs in a drawer.

Dean took a deep breath and looked at you. He wasn’t wearing the same casual clothes as he had been that terrible night, but had settled on his FBI suit again. Maybe for effect.

“Look, I was just-“ Dean fumbled for a second and then took a seat on the small chair that was standing around. “We should talk. This time for real.”

You tilted your head, and avoided looking at him.

Dean didn’t wait for any response, he simply kept talking. Maye rambling.

“I know I already tried, but it wasn’t my best, so I …” He sighed.

“I never explained anything to you. why things went down how they did. Y/N, please look at me.”

You had sat down in your deskchair, pulling your legs to your chest and now did your best to fix your eyes on Dean.

“What we do, the hunting … it’s no way to grow up for a child. I know how that is. And I never, ever, wanted that for you. I already had plans to end things sooner than they did, but then ..” He shook his head. “Didn’t work out. So, when Bobby died, I saw no other chance than to get you somewhere else. And I took that chance to just … remove you from my life, as hard as it was.”

“But I promise you, Y/N, it was all just to keep you safe. I never would’ve done it if there had been another way. And I wanted you to know that.”

Dean stood on his feet again and placed the chair back on its original spot. You looked away as he reached for the door handle, to get out of your life, again.

“So you’re just gonna leave? Again?” Your words were accusing and they were meant to be that way, but still you almost felt bad, as Dean dropped his hand by his side and let out a sigh.

“Like I said, it was for the best. Still is, in my opinion.”

“What, to remove me from your life again?” You jumped out of your chair, fury burning in your eyes and voice growing louder with every word you spoke.

“Y/N, you don’t get it-“

“No, you don’t get it!” You jelled at him. What was burning in your eyes were now more tears than anger, but it didn’t matter.

“For years, I’ve been trying to … to figure out what I did wrong. For years, I’ve been trying to do better, every day, I wanted to be better, because I thought —. I thought that if I had good grades, and if I started working out, and if I was always on my best behavior … I thought that you would come and get me. But somehow you never did. And I just … I don’t understand, I want you to tell me, what did I do wrong, what made you leave, because I swear, I’ll change. I’ll change, and I’ll work on it, just please…” A begging undertone accompanied your tear-choked words. “Don’t leave me here again.”

Wordlessly, Dean quickly crossed the room and put his arms around you. it took you a second to realize what was even happening, before you clung to his suit jacket, digging all your strength into it, as if the fabric was the only think that kept you from drowning in black water.

You felt the shadow of warmth, as Dean turned his head to press a featherlight kiss into your hair.

“I regret having to leave you.” He murmured next to your ear. “But what I do not regret is keeping you safe. Even if that meant leaving you.”

You sniffled, and pulled away from him. Dean’s own face wasn’t full of fresh tear stains, but still you could see the sincerity and something like sadness on his features.

You wiped your cheeks to clean them off the drying liquids.

“I’m older now,” You said, and Dean scoffed, already knowing where this was headed. “No, please, listen to me! I’m older, I can make my own choices, take my own risks. You saw how great I was a few days ago!”

“Yes, but that was one monster!” Dean countered. “Out there, there are hundreds of those things. We don’t get enough sleep, no nice food, not even nice beds! Trust me, Y/N, compared to this-“ he gestured around your room, “what we do has nothing on it.”

You shook your head. “But you’re together when you do it. You and Sam. And I just want that, I want to be with you.”

Dean sighed and took a step back.

“Please, Dean, I’m begging you!” You urged. “You said you never wanted to come back here, but now you had to, I mean – don’t you think that’s some sort of … sign or something?”

“I don’t believe in signs.”

“Well, screw signs, I’m here!” You pointed to yourself. Your voice was desperate, but so were you.

“I am here, and I want you to take me with you.” And in a whisper, you repeated, “Please, Dean, this time – let me come with you.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, Dean heavily sighed and pulled the chair closer to him to sit down.

The church bells were tolling a loud, fast tune. It was ironic, you thought, and you didn’t know if you should cry or laugh about it.

You watched as two dark caskets were lowered down into the earth, into two separate 6-feet deep holes right next to each other.

The gravestones had not yet been prepared, but you didn’t exactly need those anyway. If the huge pictures were any indicator on who was getting buried here.

This was your last time saying Goodbye. To Cass and to Roy, and, unfortunately, to the last one remaining.

Funerals weren’t for the dead, you had once read somewhere, they were for the living, for those seeking closure in their desperate times of grief.

You had thought it to be bullshit, what difference would a burial make in a journey of overcoming the loss of someone so important?

But, as you threw a full hand of dark earth onto each of the dark caskets, you somehow understood. It was one weight less.

They were still here, some part of them. Something you could always come back to, they hadn’t just vanished off the back off the earth. That thought was, indeed, comforting.

Damn life lessons that are right.

“Hey,” you suddenly heard a voice next to you, and were a bit surprised to see Finn standing there.

You had been too lost in your own thoughts to even notice him approaching. The lack of sleep probably didn’t help your attention skills much, either.

“Hey,” you answered.

“Look, I need to tell you something,” you started, just at the same time as Finn said, “I know what you wanna say.”

Both of you let out quiet laughs.

“You first,” He said.

You took a deep breath and avoided looking at him, scanning the gravestones before you as if you had known everyone buried under them personally.

“Sam and Dean,” you started, “I mean, they’ve been here for a while and honestly, I never even thought I’d see them again. So I never really thought about what would happen if they would just – show up, you know?”

Interesting, Peter Gravill only lived to be 57 years old.

“But now they’re here, and I just-“

“I get it.” Finn suddenly interrupted you. Your head whirled around so fast you were afraid you were gonna get whiplash.

At your confused look, he added, “I mean, if my parents suddenly showed up on my doorstep and gave me the option of going with them –“ he shrugged his shoulders. “-I would most definitely take it.”

Before you could even think about it, you already lunged forwards and wrapped your arms around his body, burying your face in his neck and holding him tightly.

The hot feeling of tears burned behind your eyes, but you managed to put them away. You pulled Finn even closer.

“Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”

“You’re still younger than me.”

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

The hug lasted endless, but endless went by way too quickly. You fixed Finn’s suit jacket, apologized for the tear- and make-up stains you had gotten on the expensive material, and waved him a last Goodbye.

Down by the parking lot, a black car was already waiting for you, two adult men leaning against it. They had been watching the entire thing go down from a safe distance, not wanting to interfere in either the funeral, or the emotional Goodbyes.

Sam tried not to think about what laid ahead of them, or behind them, as his niece walked towards them, away from the graves of her best friends, and leaving the only one that was still alive, behind.

His niece. How long hadn’t he said that title, let alone thought it.

He liked the familiarity of it. The rightness.

Dean opened a creaking car door for you, as you reached them.

“You ready?” He asked.

Sam could see your shoulders tighten, as you lifted your chin, and looked his brother straight in the eye.

“Yeah.”

Dean nodded, and you got in the backseat. He slammed the car door closed behind you. With one last look at his younger brother, Dean rounded Baby and took his place as the driver, Sam claiming shotgun.

Behind them, you leaned your head against the window as the engine roared and you drove off.

The car smelt like leather and gunpowder. It made you feel comforted.

And in the backseat of an old 1967 Chevy Impala, listening to the music that was a mix of Metallica, Kansas and Billy Joel, you slept the best night’s sleep you had had in weeks.

taglist:

@psycho-magnotheric-slime , @openmindedperson2200 , @emily-roberts

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marie-swriting · 1 year

Text

Oui, Je Comprends - Dean Winchester

Masterlist

Résumé : Dean, ton père, doit venir te chercher au centre commercial, car on t'a attrapé en train de voler. Vous devez maintenant avoir une conversation concernant ton comportement.

Warnings : Y/N a 15 ans, vol, mauvais amis, sentiment d'être exclue, dites-moi si j'ai oublié d'autres warnings !

Nombre de mots : 1k

Version Wattpad

Version anglaise

Prompt List : PL n°1, n°6"Cut the crap and tell me what happened." (Arrête tes conneries et dis-moi ce qu'il s'est passé.)

Assise sur la chaise, ta jambe tremble appréhendant le moment où ton père, Dean Winchester, va arriver. Dans ta tête, tu imagines tous les scénarios. Tu essayes de deviner toutes les réprimandes, te préparant à voir la déception et la colère sur son visage.

Tu joues avec tes mains quand tu entends la porte un peu plus loin s'ouvrir. La voix de ton père augmente ton anxiété. Il discute avec un vigile, s'excusant du désagrément causé par ton inconscience. Quand l'affaire est réglée, il te rejoint. Tu tentes de sourire innocemment, mais il n'y prête pas attention et te fait un signe de tête, t'invitant à quitter le lieu. Le silence de Dean te stresse un peu plus. Tu te dis que, peut-être, il attend juste d'être dans l'Impala pour te sermonner, mais ce n'est pas le cas. Il se met à rouler, sans rien dire. Il n'allume même pas la radio. Tu sais que tu es vraiment foutue. Tu avais peur de l'entendre crier, mais son mutisme te perturbe plus. Arrivés au motel, tu tentes de quitter la voiture mais il te retient en t'interpellant. Tu te tournes vers lui, sans le regarder. Il pousse un soupire avant de parler :

- Je t'écoute, qu'est-ce que tu as à dire pour ta défense ?

- Euh, je te jure que ce n'est pas si grave que ça a en l'air. C'est une histoire stupide et je suis sûre que...

- Voler dans un magasin tu appelles ça une histoire stupide ? t'interrompt-il, agacé de ton immaturité.

- C'est pas comme si je t'avais jamais aidé à pirater des cartes bleues.

- Change pas de sujet ! Mais enfin, qu'est-ce qui t'a pris de tenter de voler ce tee-shirt, Y/N ?! Tu en avais besoin ? Tu aurais pu me le dire au lieu de commettre un vol dans la première boutique venue.

- Ce n'est pas ça ! t'exclames-tu avant de marmonner : Je n'avais même pas besoin de ce tee-shirt, en plus.

- Alors, pourquoi tu l'as volé ?

- Bah, c'est pour ça que je te disais que c'était une histoire stupide, tu sais, dis-tu, essayant de minimiser ton action. Franchement, en y repensant, je me dis que...

- Arrête tes conneries et dis-moi ce qui s'est passé, s'énerve-t-il. Je veux la vérité, j'ai été assez patient !

- Après les cours, on est allés au centre commercial, commences-tu.

- Qui ça "on" ?

- Mes amis du lycée et moi. J'ai enfin réussi à avoir un groupe d'amis, pour la première fois de ma vie, alors je les ai suivis après les cours. Au début, ils ne volaient pas... Puis, ils ont commencé. Je voulais pas au début, je te le jure ! Mais ils m'ont dit que je pouvais me permettre de prendre ce tee-shirt, que c'était rien. Ils ont dit que rien n'arriverait.

- On voit le résultat ! Et comment ça se fait que tes amis étaient pas avec toi quand je suis venu ?

- Ils sont sortis avant moi de la boutique. J'appréhendais, j'avoue. Et quand je me suis décidée à partir, l'alarme s'est déclenchée et...

- Laisse-moi deviner, tes amis ont fait comme s'ils te connaissaient pas et t'ont laissé dans ta merde ?

- Ouais, on peut dire ça, réponds-tu, honteuse.

- Tu te rends compte qu'à cause de ta bêtise, on a dû arrêter notre chasse, avec Sam ?

- Je sais.

- En plus, pour une raison débile.

- Je sais ! t'exclames-tu, ne supportant plus ses réprimandes. Et je suis désolée, papa. Vraiment. Je savais que je ne devais pas le faire, mais je l'ai fait quand même. Je... Je voulais juste être intégrée dans ce groupe, d'accord ? avoues-tu en évitant son regard. C'est la première fois que j'ai réellement pleins d'amis. D'habitude, quand j'arrive dans un nouveau lycée, je n'en ai pas. Si j'ai de la chance, seulement un ou deux, mais pas un groupe entier. Je voulais qu'ils me trouvent cool, je voulais avoir une vie d'adolescente normale avec pleins d'amis, même si on reste ici que quelques semaines. Je sais que ce n'est pas une excuse, mais ça fait du bien de se sentir inclue pour une fois, tu comprends ?

Suite à ta tirade, tu passes ta main sur le visage, fatiguée de la situation.

- Oui, je comprends, dit Dean, te faisant tourner la tête vers lui. J'aurais voulu que tu n'aies pas à grandir comme ça. Ecoute, Y/N, ce que tu as fait aujourd'hui était totalement irréfléchi, mais je te comprends. Mais ça n'empêche pas que tu as tenté de voler et que tu as interrompu une chasse, te rappelle-t-il et tu te prépares à entendre ta condamnation. Je veux bien fermer les yeux pour cette fois si tu me promets deux choses.

- Lesquelles ? demandes-tu, surprise.

- La première, ne vole plus jamais.

- Donc, je ne peux plus t'aider à pirater des cartes bancaires ? questionnes-tu avec un léger sourire.

- Tu m'as compris, déclare Dean en roulant des yeux.

- La deuxième ?

- Arrête de traîner avec ces ados. Ils sont pas tes amis. Ils t'ont fait faire quelque chose de con et ils t'ont laissé tomber à la première occasion.

- Je te le promets. Merci papa, d'être aussi compréhensif.

Tu le prends dans tes bras pour montrer toute reconnaissance. Dean pose un baiser sur ta tête avant de s'éloigner et de racler sa gorge :

- Ouais, mais te réjouis pas trop vite. Tu vas faire la lessive, t'informe-t-il en quittant la voiture.

- Quoi ?! t'écries-tu en le suivant. Mais il y a au moins une semaine de vêtements à laver et les machines sont en panne. Je vais devoir le faire à la main !

- Tu veux la punition que je t'avais prévu à la base ?

- Non.

- Alors, on est d'accord. Allez, viens. T'as du boulot.

Dean rigole en te voyant lever les yeux au ciel face à son ordre. Malgré ton mécontentement, tu ne peux t'empêcher de te sentir chanceuse d'avoir un père à ton écoute.

Masterlist

{Ceci est mon blog secondaire donc je répondrai aux commentaires sous le pseudo @marie-sworld}

#marie swriting in french #supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x daughter reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #dean winchester #tumblr français

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pink-sparkly-witch · 6 months

Text

Everything

Summary: Dumped by her boyfriend, Y/N goes home with her tail between her legs, praying that her roommate, Dean Winchester, isn’t there to witness yet another failed relationship. But fate doesn’t work that way, and what seems like the universe conspiring against her might actually be what she’s needed all along.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, language, douchebag ex, Dean’s a bit of a dick at first, insecurities, heart to heart, frenemies to lovers

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I’m so sorry. This summary is awful. I hope you enjoy whatever this is 😅 Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

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The rain pours down, and thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance. You laugh bitterly at how the weather reflects your mood. Rain soaks your hair and clothing, your feet sodden and squelching; the stilettos you’re wearing offer zero protection from the torrents of water falling from the sky and running down the sidewalks.

You’re grateful for it, truth be told. At least this way, no one knows the mascara that runs in black streams down your cheeks is from the tears you’ve been crying over that asshole. The asshole you’ve been dating for two months who just dumped you at your local bar while sitting next to his date for the night.

Fuck, how did this become your life? How did you become this gullible, desperate woman who keeps falling for these kinds of men? Men who date you and sweet talk you, saying all the right things until they get what they want from between your legs and then leave you for someone prettier. Someone younger.

Maybe the asshole’s right. Maybe you are the type of girl to have a fun time with, not the kind to take home to meet someone’s mother. But fuck, that hurts to admit and fuck, you lose more of yourself with every asshole that spews those kind of lines to you. If you’ve said it once, you’ve said it a million times. You’re done with men. And this time, you mean it.

You turn the corner onto your street and stop in your tracks. Dread settles in your stomach as you see your roommate’s car parked on the side of the road. He just had to choose tonight of all nights to stay home, didn’t he? That’s all you fucking need right now. You consider turning around and walking away. Hell, he wouldn’t miss you. You were meant to be staying at the asshole’s place anyway.

But, this is your home. Well, the place you live, at least, and you need to go there eventually. Might as well get it over with. Your lip trembles, knowing you need to face the one person you really don’t want to right now, especially in this state. He already thinks you’re pathetic enough as it is.

You walk up the stairs, dread settling heavily in the pit of your stomach the closer you get to the door. You cast up a silent prayer that the only reason Dean is home is because he’s got female company over. At least then, you can get in, grab some whiskey and get to your room quietly and unnoticed.

“Hey, what are you doing home so early? Thought you were staying at Chuck’s tonight?” Dean says from the couch, not even turning to look at you.

“Yeah, well, plans change. Why are you here? Thought you’d be chasing some skinny ass, barely legal bitch at the bar.” Your tone conveys pure disgust, and you curse yourself for it when he turns to look at you. And, of course, he laughs.

“What the hell happened to you?” he buckles, scanning your absolutely hilarious appearance. “You look like someone threw you in the river and left you to claw your way back out again!” Dean laughs, and you huff, desperately trying to stop the fresh batch of tears threatening to stream down your face.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Dean, there’s a torrential downpour out there.”

“Yeah, that explains the puddle at your feet, but not the rest of you, bitch,” he laughs, and that does it. You know he’s not being serious; you constantly hurl insults at one another, and it doesn’t usually get to either of you, but this time, it hits differently.

“The only reason I kept you around so long is because you’re like a bitch in heat. Always needing to be fucked. But that’s all you’re good for, and it grows old pretty quickly.”

Your eyes water, and your lip trembles. A sob escapes unchecked, and you wish the floor would open you up and swallow you whole. “I’m going to bed,” you mutter and turn to walk away.

“Y/N, wait,” Dean says, his face softening into concern.

“What, Dean? What? You wanna laugh at me more? Call me a bitch again, huh? Look, I know you don’t like me, but you know what? A little compassion can go a long way. Some humanity might make me actually believe you have a heart.”

Your mind replays every conversation you’ve overheard Dean having about you with his brother, his friends, and his conquests, and your heart sinks to the floor at how true your words are.

“Who? Her? She’s just my roommate. Baby, you don’t have to worry about her. We’re not even friends, and she’s not my type. She’s basically my live-in maid. She cooks and cleans for me and pays me for the privilege.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, what happened?” Dean asks, stepping towards you, frowning when you step back.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sniffle.

“Come on, you’re upset. Talk to me, tell me what’s going on.”

“Why? So you can make fun of me like you always do? We're not even friends, Dean. Stop pretending you give a damn about me.” The hurt furrowing his brow surprises you, and you scoff. “Don’t look so hurt, Dean. I’m only repeating your words back to you. I’m the live-in maid, remember?” you turn and walk quickly to your room, slamming the door.

Whiskey will have to wait until Dean’s gone to bed.

It’s been quiet in the main section of the apartment for over an hour now. It’s probably safe to assume Dean has gone to bed, and you can get the whiskey you’re so desperate to drown yourself in.

Leaving the sanctuary of your bedroom, you pad down the hall in your bare feet, trying to be as quiet as possible. Dean is a light sleeper, and he’d complained before about you waking him whenever you get up in the middle of the night suffering from a bout of insomnia.

“I was wondering when you’d come out,” Dean’s voice makes you jump as it rings from the small dining table by the kitchen window. He’s sitting in the dark, with just the moon’s light shining enough to see his silhouette. “I was getting worried,” he states, sipping from a tumbler.

“Oh, so you do have a heart?” you respond. It’s a bitchy comment, and you know it, but you’re in defence mode after Chuck. “Might want to show it once in a while.”

“Nah. Makes me look weak,” he chuckles. His joke caught you off guard, and you let out a little huff of laughter. “See? I knew I could make you smile!”

“Barely,” you quip back and sit across from him, grabbing the whiskey bottle and filling the empty glass Dean must’ve put on the table for you.

“What happened, sweetheart? You left here tonight looking stunning and happy, and when you came home—”

“I was crying, and you called me bitch,” you state, watching Dean’s head drop.

“Not my finest moment, I admit,” Dean says as he reaches for the bottle and refills both glasses. “I didn’t know how upset you were, and I was only teasing you. If I’d known that it wasn’t just the rain that made your mascara run, I’d never have said it, and I hope you know that.”

“I really wanna believe that, but you’re always saying hurtful things,” you say, draining your glass.

“The things you said earlier,” Dean nods. “I didn’t mean… look, Y/N, you’re a beautiful woman, and some of the girls I bring home get jealous, you know? I say those things to keep them sweet.”

You nod, thinking it’s a fair excuse. Dean does have a lot of women over, and you’ve pulled out the sting from more than a few of them.

“As for what I say to Sam and my friends, well, they tease me about living with a pretty girl and don’t believe me when I say we’re just roommates,” Dean continues. You have to admit that was also sound reasoning. It didn’t excuse it; he was still a dick, but you understood it a little better.

“It’d just be nice if you stopped for a second and thought of me as a person with feelings before you say those kinds of things in front of me,” you say, filling your glass again.

“Alright, sweetheart, I promise I’ll work on that,” Dean agrees, and you notice he’s watching you intently.

“What?” you ask, feeling uncomfortably exposed under his gaze.

“What happened with Chuck,” Dean asks again.

“I don’t want to tell you,” you sigh.

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing,” you whine and hit your head on the table.

“Come on,” Dean says, topping up their glasses again. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I promise whatever it is, it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“I got to the bar, and Chuck was there with another woman. He told me we were over and that Anna was his date for the night. Then, to rub salt in my wounds, as I was walking away, he told me that all I was good for was a great time in bed. Always up for anything, like a bitch in heat.”

“And then you came home, and I called you a bitch. Y/N, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Dean takes your hand in his, and you can see that it’s a genuine apology, and he really does feel awful about it. “You know he’s wrong, right? You’re worth so much more than that?”

“I don’t think I am. He’s not the only guy to tell me that,” you shrug. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m done with men and dating.”

“You don’t mean that. You think I don’t know about all the romcoms you watch on Netflix? All those girly books you read.”

“Yeah, well, a fat lot of good they did me. I’m starting to see why people are boycotting Disney Princess movies because they’re filled with romantic disillusionment and give a false idea to women that their Prince Charming exists somewhere out there.”

“This is more serious than I thought if you’re losing faith in the Disney Princesses!” Dean chuckles, and it makes you smile slightly. “Seriously, though, I think this is more about the men you date than you, sweetheart. They are way out of your league.”

“I am not out of anyone’s league, Dean. If anything, it’s probably the other way around,” you huff a bitter laugh.

“I’m out of your league,” Dean says quietly.

“You have that backwards. I’m the one out of your league. You’re gorgeous and charming, and I have seen the girls you bring home, and they are the most stunning women I’ve ever seen. I can’t compete with that.” The words spill out of you before you can stop them, and you think Dean might be blushing, but it’s hard to tell when the only sliver of light comes from the moon shining through the kitchen window.

Dean laughs, and it takes you aback slightly. “I have called you beautiful or some other variation of it several times tonight, and not once have you picked up on it. Those women are hot, sure, but you… You are on a whole other level of hot. You are stunning and so much classier than they will ever be.”

You scoff at his words, not believing them but not wanting him to know they affect you. You know Dean’s type, and it is definitely not you. “You don’t have to try and make me feel better, Dean.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. There’s a reason Sam and Cas and Benny are on my case so much about you, and it’s because I really, really, like you—”

“So, all the insults and barely tolerating my presence was what,” you smirk over at him, “you pulling my pigtails and pushing me over in the playground?”

“When you put it like that…” Dean cringes. “I guess it was. Look, you’re hurt and sad, and we’ve had a lot to drink, so I’m not going to push you to tell me if this is one-sided, but I will talk to you tomorrow when we’re both sober.”

The warmth of the sun wakes you, and you stretch in its gentle heat. You’re not nearly as hungover as you should be, and for that, you’re grateful. Dean had some interesting things to say last night, and you’d rather your brain was running at full capacity.

Quietly, you make your way to the kitchen, mindful that Dean’s door is closed, so it’s likely he’s still sleeping, and start the coffee machine.

You busy yourself with clearing up from the night before. You rinse dishes, put them in the dishwasher and put the almost empty whiskey bottle back in the cupboard. You grab your and Dean’s favourite mugs and place them next to the coffee machine.

Taking the cleaning spray, you spritz all the surfaces and wipe them down while patiently waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

“How did I manage to find the only person in this city who likes cleaning?” Dean’s groggy voice sounds from the doorway, and you smile.

“Morning, Dean,” you say as you pick up the coffee pot and fill his mug. You place it on the breakfast bar and fill your own before hopping onto one of the stools and making yourself comfortable.

“Morning, sweetheart. Thanks,” Dean says as he picks up his mug and takes a sip. “So, about last night…”

“Wow,” you chuckle. “Straight to the point, huh?”

“I’ve wasted enough time, and now that my feelings are out there, I can’t sit on this any longer,” Dean pauses to take another mouthful of coffee. “I meant what I said. I like you, Y/N. I’m sorry if anything I did when I was in denial of my feelings hurt you. And I’m sorry for pushing you away and making you think I hated you so you wouldn’t find out how I really feel.”

“Dean, I don’t know what to say,” you say. “I used to like you in that way, but with how you were with me, I turned it off because, for the past year, I’ve been thinking you don’t like me, and I don’t know if anything is still there for you.”

Dean nods, looking a little deflated by your words, but it’s clear he accepts them. “Can I at least try and make you get it back?”

“I don’t know—“ you begin, but Dean cuts you off.

“Please, Y/N. One date is all I’m asking for,” Dean begs, and you feel your resolve waning. You know you still have feelings for him.

“I’ve seen the girls you bring home, Dean. And I’m nothing compared to them,” you try. It’s your last bit of fight, the last time you’ll be able to give him an out from this.

“You’re everything, Y/N. And I mean that. You are smart, funny, kind, beautiful… you’re everything they weren’t. Please,” Dean begs again. “Just one date. Let me prove it.”

“Okay,” you nod with a small smile.

“Yeah?” Dean says, breaking out into a boyish grin.

“Yeah. I’ll go on a date with you, Dean.”

“Awesome!” he grins, looking like he just answered the million-dollar question. “I promise you won’t regret it!”

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#everything #au dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #au dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst

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