Fangirl

That thing Hoechlin does with his mouth when he touches Dylan.

Edit: Oops!  He did it again!

“Hey,” says Stilinski, sotto voce, flipping his chair around so he’s straddling it and facing Derek. A flirtatious grin quirks his mouth. His very soft, very full mouth - not that Derek’s noticing it, because he isn’t. “I just wanted to say that I am totally okay with showing you around the school or, y’know, helping you find your classrooms if you get lost.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Stop hitting on me before Harris gives you detention.”

“Detention would absolutely be worth it. I’d better give you my number so you can call me if you need me.”

“I don’t need you. For anything.” Not to mention it’s impossible for Derek to get lost, even in an unfamiliar school, because he’s a werewolf and he can find his way simply by following his nose. Or his ears.

“C’mon, gimme a chance. I bet you could need me for a lot of things.”

“Stiles,” says another guy from next to Stilinski in a theatrical stage-whisper, “stop bothering the new guy. He isn’t your next Lydia Martin.”

“Shut up, Scott,” Stilinski - Stiles? - says, not bothering to look away from Derek. “And I’m very well aware he isn’t my next Lydia Martin. He’s endowed in ways Lydia isn’t. Ways I’m very interested in exploring.”

Funnily enough, even though Stiles is flirting with him, Stiles doesn’t smell like lust, or not mostly like lust; instead, he smells like nervousness and happiness and some unnamable emotion that niggles at Derek’s mind like the buzz of an unseen cricket.

It’s strange enough for Derek to stare at Stiles a little longer than he means to, and for Stiles’s smile to widen in response.

Soldier Boy Reaction gifs | The Boys 03.03 | The Boys 03.06

2022 Pride Month Queer Headcanons:

summary: you’re needy but chris wants to watch the game, there has to be some sort of compromise, right?

cw: choking, penetration, creampies, squirting, daddy kink, fem!reader, cockwarming

a/n: SORRY FOR THE WAIT🥲🥲🥲 hope y’all enjoy!!

@peakascum @floral-recs

“babe! the game is on!” you hear chris yell out from the living room, and you internally groan.

you usually loved game day; getting to snuggle on the couch and eat pizza while watching your boyfriend get all riled up was something you would usually be up to.

however

he just came back from a press tour and you were pent up from weeks without seeing him; all you wanted to do was mount him so he could pound-

“princess, what’re you doin the game’s about to start” he tuts at you while making his way towards you in the kitchen. his patriots shirt tight around his figure highlighting his thick biceps. god it was like he was doing this on purpose.

cw: penetration, fem!reader, daddy kink

“fuck yeah ride that dick baby” bucky groans out throwing his head back as his metal hand slams down on your ass causing you to whine as you clench down on his dick.

he moans at the stimulation looking down to see your little cunt swallowing him up. strings of slick connecting from his balls to your cunt appear every time you move yourself off his cock; followed by the sloppy pit pat of your ass meeting his thighs.

Title: In My Time of Dying

Pairing: Sam x Reader 

Word Count: 5,940 (I’m so so sorry)

Request by icandothis-oneday-at-a-time: This is a a little specific, but could you do a smutty/fluffy/angsty imagine where the reader was a hunter, and met the boys on a hunt. She’s a heavier girl, not huge, but plus sized with smaller boobs. And she was mentally abused by her ex, Dakota, and doesn’t tell the boys, who tease her constantly about her boobs; then she comes clean to Sam, and he comforts her and she loses her virginity to him? Thanks!

Anon Request: Hey I have a request. Can you do a samxreader one shot or imagine where the reader is chubby. Shes known the boys for a while and thinks sam only sees her as a sis/friend but tragedy causes him to reveal how he really feels.

Warnings: Emotionally abusive relationship, depression, swearing, angst (the next part will have more angst, fluff and smut)

A/N: This switches between Sam’s POV and the Readers. 

x 

“DEAN, QUICK GET THE CAR!” I yelled as I held Y/N’s wound.

 We were on a hunt, a demon hunt. We had been tracking it for six months. The one that killed Y/N’s family. She couldn’t have been more excited for a case, finally being able to get the asshole who was responsible for taking her family away from her.

 She grew up in the hunting life, her parents being hunters and their parents before hand, it ran in her family, just like it did on my mom’s side. Our families were close growing up, her parents would drop her and her sister off at Bobby’s when our dad would do the same. She and I were close, really close. She was my best friend. I could go to her with things that I couldn’t even think to tell Dean about.

 Now she was dying in my arms and there was nothing I could do to save her, other than rush her to the hospital, even then, it was about half an hours drive away with Dean driving. She was captured by the demon about eight hours ago, we got here as fast as we could but by then, she was already tortured. She was broken, injured in ways that we could only hope she would survive from.

 I took my flannel off, wrapping it around her stomach wound, which was bleeding profusely. I felt my eyes fill with tears, I wasn’t about to accept that she was leaving me forever, I wasn’t going to let it happen.

Reader Request: Sorry, but I don’t really have anything specific, only that I want it on a hunt, if that’s okay? I enjoy reading the hunt ones and maybe something with Dean? If you can’t get round to it, don’t worry, I won’t mind. Thanks either way, and I love your work :)

Here it is! I hope you like it dear Anon!! 

***

The Impala pulled up to the old warehouse, that was said to be the location of Lilith.

“Alright.” you said. “Here we go.” Dean sighed. He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on your lips. This was a normality, in case one of you didn’t make it out alive. 

Sam was already standing outside of the warehouse, waiting patiently. You and Dean climbed out of the Impala and walked up to Sam, hand in hand.

“You sure about this?” Sam asked. “This is Lilith were talking about.”

“I want to be there.” you said. “I want to see that bitch die." 

"That’s my girl.” said Dean, pulling you close. “Let’s do this." 

The three of you burst through the warehouse door, where you were greeted by Ruby.

"Out of the way Ruby.” said Dean.

“That wasn’t very nice.” she said. 

“Back off Dean.” said Sam. He turned to her. “Where’s Lilith?" 

"In the far east wing.” she said. “Follow me.” The three of you followed Ruby. Sam following the closest, while you and Dean hung back a little bit. 

Finally, you arrived in a circular chamber, where Ruby said Lilith would be.

“Where is she Ruby?” Sam asked. She turned to face you, her eyes jet black. 

“Where you’ll never find her.” she smirked. 

“You double-crossed us.” said Sam, with realization.

“I told you Sammy!” said Dean. “She’s a demon! She can’t be trusted!” You watched as Ruby raised her knife. 

“Run!” you screamed. Soon, you, Sam and Dean were all running down three separate hallways, hoping to lose her. You came to a long corridor, where Dean had arrived at the other end. 

“Y/N!” he yelled. “Come on!” You took off down the hallway toward him. All of a sudden, Ruby appeared in front of you and a searing pain shot through your abdomen. 

“Not on my watch.” Ruby glared at you, pulling the knife out of your side just in time for you to slump to the floor. 

“NO!” Dean cried, running toward you. He scooped you up in his arms and began running. He exited the warehouse, you bleeding out in his arms. He opened the back door of the Impala and lay you down in his lap. Ruby stood in the doorway, grinning at Dean who was now crying, trying to reassure you that everything was going to be ok. Even when he knew it wasn’t. 

Suddenly, a bullet flew through her head and she crumpled on the pavement, revealing Sam, standing behind her, aiming the Colt. He then ran past her body, and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“Drive Sammy!” Dean cried. “Just drive!” He leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

“Dean…” you said weakly.

“Shh baby…it’s gonna be ok.” he said. “It’s all gonna be ok." 

Sam sped up down the road, heading for the motel. 

*Motel*

Dean gently placed you on the bed. He took one of your hands and put it on your wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but you took your hand away.

"Y/N?” he asked. “What are you doing?" 

"I don’t mind it.” you said. “Dying." 

"No.” said Dean. “You’re not going anywhere. Not without me.” His eyes welled up again. “When it comes time to go, I’m going with you. But not now.”

“Dean…” you said, reaching up and bringing Dean’s face down to connect your lips one last time. “It’s time for me to go. You have to let me go." 

"No. I won’t.” he said. “I won’t let you go. Please…" 

"I love you Dean.” you said, reaching over and touching his cheek. Then everything was gone.

*Dean’s POV*

“I love you Dean.” she said. Y/N’s hand resting on my cheek. Then, her hand slipped from my face. The light left her eyes. 

“I love you too Y/N.” I managed to sputter out. But it was too late. She couldn’t hear me. Y/N was gone.

“No…” I whispered, then I broke. I leaned over and kissed her soft, cold lips, hoping for some sort of reaction, but nothing. She was gone. Heaven? Hell? I didn’t know where. But I knew that I couldn’t get her back. Or could I? 

“Cas?” I asked weakly. “Please get down here.” I looked up, tears flowing from my eyes. “The hunt, it went wrong and…Y/N…” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. “Cas…please." 

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Hello Dean.” Cas’ voice was like music to my ears.

“Cas! Work your angel mojo! Get her back!” I cried.

“I can’t just bring a person back from the grips of death.” said Cas. “But for you, I will make an exception.” He walked past me and over to Y/N. He placed a hand on her forehead and allowed the ‘magic’ to happen.

*Normal POV*

You opened your eyes to see Castiel removing his hand from your forehead. 

“You have been healed.” he said. He then vanished, leaving you with a very teary eyed Dean.

“I couldn’t let you go.” he said, letting more tears fall. “I couldn’t. I love you Y/N.” He pulled you close.

“I love you too Dean.” you said. He leaned in and kissed you passionately, never wanting to let you go.

***

There you go! I hope you liked it! I’m so sorry for the cheesy ending. I wrote this imagine back in November, so I guess my on critiquing was different then. Either way I hope you enjoyed! Thanks so much for the request! Keep 'em coming! Sending hugs to my fellow Cheesies! Much love!

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: Light smut

Word Count:  1,012

Request:

Gif:

A/N: Listen to “9 Crimes” here!

The song is a male/female duet, so I decided to do the Reader and Dean’s POV of what they’re doing.

You sit at the bar with your whiskey in hand. You had come in alone, but you most certainly weren’t leaving that way. Not again. 

You couldn’t stand the thought of another night with an empty bed and no one by your side in the morning.

You didn’t care that you would never see the guy again, you just needed something, anything.

This whole thing was new to you. You’ve never “just hooked up” with anymore before. It wasn’t you. You liked knowing the person next to you. You liked knowing he enjoyed cherry pie more than apple.You liked knowing the way his name sounded on your lips. You liked knowing that the man at your side faced death and monsters every day without batting an eye, but still held you at night like he was scared he would never see you again. You liked knowing that you loved him.

But tonight, you wouldn’t even know his name. You didn’t want to. 

So when a man with bright blue eyes and probably five years younger than you bought you your next drink, you nearly choked it down, desperate to get back to your motel room before you chickened out of your plan. 

You push him through the door of your room, pushing down his blazer as his hands hold onto your hips, his fingers unlatching your belt.

He presses you against the wall, his lips leaving a burning trail down your neck as your fingers try to undo the buttons of his shirt, his hands pulling at the hem of your blouse and lifting it over your head. His lips pull away from your skin and he takes you in, from the trussed hair to your red lacy bra.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breaths and your breath catches in your throat. 

His eyes roamed over you as he laid you down, his hands trailing down your naked body.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He whispered before lowering himself down onto you, his lips meeting yours as you pull the two of you up further onto the bed, his legs entwined in yours, pressed fully against you, ready, and you waiting. 

Lips on your chest bring you back as he holds onto your sides and leaves a wake of kisses down your body, his lips lingering right above your waistline. 

Your place your hands on his cheeks and pull him back up to you, pressing yourself against him and pushing him back until he falls onto the bed. 

You waste no time in pulling down your pants, and he watches with excitement as you shimmy out of your jeans and toss them across the room.

You saunter up to the bed, your arms encasing him on either side of his hips as you lower yourself, moving your hands to this thighs and sliding them up until they find the zipper of his pants, smiling as he groans at your touch. 

It only takes you a few seconds to pull his pants off, and you climb on top of him, taking control of the night as you unhook your bra and pull off his boxers as his hands cup your breasts. 

It’s wild, rough and over before you can even think about what you’ve done. You don’t mind that he’s fallen asleep next to you. You enjoy the dip of the weight on the mattress, the sounds of his heavy breaths, because when you close your eyes, and you pretend your back in the bunker, falling asleep on the familiar memory foam mattress with the right man by your side. 

Dean takes another shot before he leans over to whisper in her ear, wondering if she wanted to get out of here. 

Of course she did. 

He throws his arm around her shoulder as he leads her out of the bar and into the Impala, taking her back to the bunker, back to the bed that you shared with him for all those months, always by his side when he needed you, even those nights when he thought he didn’t. 

But you weren’t there anymore, and this new chick was going to fill the void that was left. 

He doesn’t say anything to her as he drives back, just lets the music float through the car until they arrive. 

He leads her in slowly, holding the door open for her and letting her go in first. He doesn’t take her hand at all, just silently has her follow him down the quiet hallways of the bunker until they reach his room, letting her enter first and look around until she tosses her purse to the side and comes at him full force, her lips fervently on his while his hands trail down her body, cupping her backside as he lifts her off the ground and her legs wrap around his waist.

He carries the two of them to the bed, not breaking their kiss until he lets her fall onto the mattress with a bounce. 

He pulls his shirt over his head and kicks off his shoes as he undoes the buckle on his pants, her stripping down just as quickly until both of them are left in their underwear. 

Like a predator, he leans over her, his eyes holding hers as he lowers himself onto the bed, the weight of his body landing on her as they shimmy up the mattress together, the friction of their movements causing him to groan as her hands go behind his back, her fingers lightly scraping along his skin, and for a second, he forgets where he is. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: body image issues, swearing, fight

Words: 2203

Requests: 

A/N: I decided to combine these two requests since they would have resulted in very similar stories.

IMPORTANT: I know this topic can be very sensitive, and as someone who has had her own struggles with weight/body image/eating disorder, I just want to tell each and every one of you that you are so much more than a number on the scale, whether it’s high or low. People who love and care about you do not care about your jean size. What matters is being the healthiest and happiest version of you, no matter what that looks like.  "Healthy" is different on every single body type. And most important is a healthy mind. Being able to have a comfortable relationship with your body is SO important. 

But if you are struggling, it’s okay, because recovery is such a beautiful thing and I promise you it’s possible. Recovery from an eating disorder, or just recovery from hating yourself and/or your body. 

Also, eating disorders do not come in one size. Even when I was at my lowest, I was never “anorexic.” But that does not mean I didn’t have an eating disorder. And just because you don’t fall into the stigma of what eating disorders look like or weigh, does not mean you don’t need help. I use to think I didn’t have one because I didn’t look anorexic and for the longest time didn’t consider myself in need of help because of that. Unhealthy relationships with food and your body are a disorder.

If you ever need help, please call 1-800-931-2237, it’s the hotline for the national eating disorder association. 

I’ve worked for them and still volunteer when I can. It’s a beautiful organization that can help you so much.

I love you all, and you’re all so beautiful ❤️‍

—-

As you get ready for the night out, you stand in front of the mirror, looking yourself up and down.

You sigh, your eyes falling to the ground as you turn away from your reflection. 

All you ever see is someone who’s too skinny, who was always teased and picked on for something out of your control.

Chicken legs.

Eat a burger.

Only dogs want bones.

Real women have curves.

You tried to gain weight over the years, but it just wasn’t something your body did. 

But it made you feel less womanly.

Guys always looked over you at bars, and people still thought you were in school because of how young it made you look. 

And it crushed you when the three of you were investigating the Pishtaco in Stillwater, Minnesota and Dean had made a comment about liking “a little extra cushion.” You had no cushion. And it sucked knowing the man who you loved wouldn’t want anything to do with you. 

You jump as someone knocks on the door, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Ready, Y/N?” Dean yells through the door.

“Coming!" 

You grab your purse and avoiding the mirror as you run out into the hallway.

The boys are already waiting in the car by the time you get to the garage. 

You see Dean’s eyes follow you, first in his sideview mirror, then in the rearview mirror as you jump into the back. 

"You look nice.” He comments as he turns on the engine and pulls out of the garage.

You give him a small smile, thinking he’s just being kind.

“Thanks.” You mumble, fidgeting with your bracelet. 

Only ten minutes later the three of you are at the bar. Dean has taken the liberty of getting you each a shot of whiskey and a beer. 

The three of you cheers as you shoot back your drink. 

You might be small, but you’re not a light weight.

Dean takes your empty glass and turned to get the bartender’s attention.

“Well that was impressive.” Your head snaps to your left as someone takes the seat next to you. 

He has bright blue eyes and blonde hair gelled up in the front. He’s in a suit, like he just came from work, and boy does it fit him nicely. 

You look over your shoulder, looking around for another girl.

He’s not, is he talking to me?

“I’m sorry. Me?” You point to yourself with wide eyes.

He laughs, his eyes crinkling and he shakes his head.

“Of course.” He smiles bright, confident.

Holy shit. He’s flirting with you.

“I’m Andrew.” He puts his hand out and you take it.

“Y/N.” You smile, excited that this guy, this good-looking guy, is actually flirting with you.

This wasn’t typical for you. 

Before you met the boys, it was always hard for you when you went out to bars with friends. They were constantly getting hit on and having drinks bought for them while you sat on the sidelines, unnoticed. 

With the boys, at least you had the excuse to tell yourself no guy would hit on a girl surrounded by two huge men, whether you were dating them or not. 

“Can I buy you a drink?" 

You are about to say you’re all set, that your friend already got you a beer, but how many times does a guy who’s not Dean buy you a drink?

"Coke and whiskey." 

His head cocks to the side as the start of a smirk forms on his face.

"My kind of girl.”

He turns away to get your drink, and you have to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from grinning like an idiot. 

A hand lands on your shoulder, and you spin in your chair to see a pissed looking Dean.

“Is he bothering you?” Dean glares at Andrew, who is still talking to the bartender. His grip on your shoulder is tight, and you can feel his fingers digging into your skin. 

You swat his hand away, pushing on his chest to make him leave.

“Go away, Dean.” You hiss under your breath, desperately trying to make him leave before Andrew turned around.

If it was one thing Dean Winchester did well, it was intimidation. And you hadn’t even gotten you’re drink yet.

Dean doesn’t budge though, your hand not even unsettling him one bit.

“Seriously, Dean, beat it." 

Dean’s eyes snap to yours and he scans your face, trying to tell if you’re serious or not.

"Really?” He throws his hand over your shoulder. “This guy?” His voice is tight and you don’t miss the the twitch in his jaw. 

“Yes, Dean, this guy. No go away.”

“Everything okay?” A cautious voice comes from over your shoulder.

You turn around and face Andrew, giving him a big smile.

“Everything’s fine. Just ignore him.” You hear Dean huff but you don’t bother looking back at him.

Why can’t he just give me this?

Andrew slides you your drink and you thank him.

—-

Three drinks later, Andrew’s hand is on your knee, and you’re leaning into him. 

You’ve learned to ignore Dean’s scoffs and his attempt to pull you away from Andrew, and you think at this point he’s given up trying.

You had no idea why Dean was being such a brat about it. He was always flirting with girls and buying them drinks, so why couldn’t a guy do it for you? 

You lean closer to Andrew, your eyes travel to his lips, and without a thought, you lick yours.

Andrew’s hand begins to travel up from your knee, landing on your waist as his fingers lightly grab hold on the skin under your dress. 

Andrew’s fingers brush your hair behind your ear, and just as your lips are about to touch, a hand grabs onto your shoulder and pulls you back.

“Time to go, Y/N.” Dean’s gruff voice calls from behind you.

Andrew looks over your shoulder, his eyes on fire, and he stands so quick his bar stool falls to the ground.

“What the hell is your problem, asshole?” Andrew yells, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. “You’ve been bothering us all night. She’s fine. Now back the fuck off, dude.”

Dean squares off his shoulders and his fists clench.

“Dean…” Sam calls from behind him, trying to stop his brother from doing what he was about to do. 

“My problem is she came with us, and she’s leaving with us.” Dean spits. 

Now Andrew rolls his shoulders back and his jaw tightens. 

Someone’s about to get hit, it’s just a matter of who will throw the first punch.

“That’s enough!” You shout, standing from your seat. 

You turn to Dean, your jaw tight and your eyes prickling with tears. 

You’re embarrassed and pissed and can’t understand why Dean can’t let you have this one time. 

Finally a guy found you pretty and interesting and really wanted to get to know you, and Dean completely ruined it. 

“Fine, we’re leaving, but just because you have now effectively and completely ruined my night. You and Sam go to the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Dean’s eyes snap to yours, and you can see them flash with regret, but only for a moment.

“I’m not leaving you in–”

“Now!” You scream at him, your hands shaking in anger. 

Sam puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and with a huff, he shakes Sam off and storms out of the door, slamming it after him.

Sam just shoots you an apologetic smile as he follows his brother out.

When the two of them are gone, you turn back to Andrew, who’s eyes are still on the door.

“I’m so sorry about that.” You wring your hands together and look at your feet.

“It’s not your fault.” His body relaxes.

“But uh, maybe I’ll see you again.” You smile up at him, shrugging your shoulders as if it’s nothing.

Andrew’s eyes go to the door for a minute, before they return to you.

“Yeah, maybe.” He smiles, but it’s a pity smile. And right then and there you know you’ll never see him again. 

Your shoulders fall and you try to offer him a smile so he doesn’t see your hurt.

You grab your coat and head for the door, not saying another word.

The impala is already running when you get to the parking lot, and you hop in the backseat without a word, keeping your gaze out the window because you don’t even want to look at Dean right now. 

The ride back feels like an eternity, and when you’re finally back to the bunker, you slam your door as you get out, storming out of the garage and to your room.

“Y/N!” Dean calls after you. “Y/N wait up!”

You turn on your heel and Dean stops dead in his tracks a few feet away from you.

“What the hell is your problem?” You scream. “Why couldn’t you let me have one night, Dean? Why couldn’t you let me enjoy a guy finally being interested in me and thinking I’m pretty? I never get a chance to feel like that. And you ruined it!” Tears begin to stream down your cheek, but you don’t even care. You want him to see how much he hurt you tonight, how he ruined everything for you. 

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?" 

"I’m talking about how no guys ever want to flirt with me, or buy me drinks, or even look my way! How I’m not pretty enough and how I’m too skinny for guys to even want to come and say ‘hi’ to me. And I finally got that! And you had to be a dick and ruin it for me!”

Dean’s eyes dance back and forth, like he’s deciphering your words. His eyes squint and his mouth forms that little “o” he gets when he’s trying to figure out what to say. 

“I—what?” He stutters. 

“You know what?” You throw your hands up. “Forget it. I’m going to bed.” You lie. You know you won’t be sleeping. You’ll be up, clutching you pillow to you as you try to keep your cries silent.

You turn and continue to your room, done with this conversation. 

When you finally reach your room, you slam the door and lean down against it, pulling your knees to your chest and holding yourself tight.

You only get a few tears out when there’s a knock on your door. 

You lift your head and roll your eyes. 

“Go away, Dean!" 

He doesn’t answer, just knocks again. 

"I said go away!" 

"Y/N, c'mon.” He pleads. 

You clench your jaw and stand up, grabbing the handle and pulling your door open swiftly.

“What?” You snap.

His eyes fall and his body is hunched as he takes you in. 

“You don’t really feel like that, do you?” His voice is hesitant, like he’s not sure if he should be asking or not. 

You roll your eyes as your shift your weight. 

“Go to bed, Dean.”

You go to slam the door in his face, but his hand catches on the wood, stopping you. 

“You know that’s not true, right? Any of it.” You scoff and look at the door frame, avoiding his gaze. 

“How can you really think guys don’t want anything to do with you?” You don’t respond, just lean against the door, still avoiding looking at Dean. “Y/N, guys can’t keep their eyes off you! Not just a bars, but everywhere we go! It drives me crazy!”

Your eyes snap to his and your jaw drops a bit.

“What?" 

His head drops and he catches the back of his neck, his feet scuffling.

Is he, nervous?

"Look, whether you see it or not, Y/N, you’re beautiful. Gorgeous, actually. I don’t understand how you don’t know it, but you turn heads. Everywhere you go. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have done what I did tonight, but seeing that guy get to do what I’ve always wanted to, it drove me crazy. And that’s no excuse. Because I ruined your night. And I’m really sorry. But don’t think for one minute that you’ll never get another chance like that. A girl like you, you could get anyone you wanted. And next time I won’t interfere with that.” His head drops as he finishes his little speech.

You’re just standing there with your mouth open. 

You, you don’t even know what to say.

Never in your life did you think Dean Winchester would find you beautiful.

Gorgeous, actually.

“Are you….are you serious or is this some sort of joke?”

His eyes snap to yours and his face falls.

“Why would this be a joke?" 

You don’t say anything, just duck your head and bite your lips.

"Well, it’s not. I really hope you can see that." 

His feet disappear from your view, and you listen as his footsteps disappear down the hallway before quietly shutting your door.

You walk over to the mirror, and look yourself up and down.

You look at your curled hair, and cute dress, and high heels, and you smile. 

Characters: Dean, Reader Warnings: OC death  Summary: After the passing of her mother, the reader decides to finally time to find her father.  Words: 

Request: 1949

A/N: Thank you sweet, Anon! I hope you like it!

—-

You sit in your parked car, just staring out unto the graveyard. 

The ceremony had ended over an hour ago, but you wren’t ready to leave just yet.

You had know this was coming from the moment the doctor called. You had been preparing yourself since you held your mother’s hand tight when the doctor spoke the word “terminal” with a grime look on his face.

But now that it was here, you felt like a ferrel animal tossed into an arena, panicked with no where to go. Except, you did know where to go. Sort of. It was more you knew where you were going to go.

It was never a secret to you who your father was. His name was written in your mother’s messy scribble on your birth certificate. But it was a secret to him that you existed. Mom just never got a chance to tell him before he left that she was pregnant, and when she tried to call him, the number had been disconnected. She always figured he was dead–apparently it wouldn’t be a surprise if he was, though you had no idea why, but you were ready to find out.

You never felt the need to know your father; your mother and you were always well off, and it just being the two of you made you best friends. You recognized the missing component of your family, but you never yearned for it.

But with your grandparents long gone, and your mother now passed, your family was gone, and you weren’t ready to be alone. 

You mother mentioned your father was from a city about a day’s drive from where you were now. 

You didn’t have much to go on; just a name and a picture your mother had snapped of him when she was going through a photography phase when she was 19 and unknowingly knocked up. 

You turn the key and jumpstart your engine. You put the car in drive and begin your journey to Lawrence, Kansas to find Dean Winchester. 

—-

Three days laters, you’ve found your father’s childhood home that apparently burned down with his mother inside when he was just 4. You found his mother’s–your grandmother’s–tombstone, where you left lilies. 

You also found that your father had quiet the past. 

As you dreaded through news archives at the local library, where you found his old home address and learned that his father’s name is John, and he has a younger brother named Sam, you also found his arrest records; breaking and entering, assault, impersonating an officer, tax evasion, tax fraud, credit card fraud, and one that made your heart stop: murder. 

“What kind of men were you into, mom?” You whisper to yourself as you stare at the mugshot of a man who shared your eyes and nose.

But it turned out, your mom was right in her assumption; he was dead. Apparently he was killed in St. Louis while fleeing from the police after kidnapping some woman and trying to kill her.

That was 13 years ago. He was 26, you were 7. 

You looked for a death certificate or obituary for John or Sam, but found none. 

Your father may be dead, but maybe you had a chance to find your grandfather and uncle. 

The problem was, you weren’t able to find anything recent on John or Sam. It was like they had fallen off the face of the planet.

No news, no facebooks.

You managed to find a picture of a floppy haired man labeled “Sam Winchester,” from an archived issue of the Stamford Daily, but nothing on John. 

With the picture printed, you headed out to explore the city to see what you could find. 

—-

Hours after leaving the Lawrence Memorial cemetery, you had made your way downtown to ask around if anyone knew Sam or John Winchester. A few older citizens recalled them from years ago, before the fire, but no one had seen them since then.

You tried asking at the grocery stores, barber shops, and bars, but no one seemed to know who they were.

After four hours of useless searching, you decide to head to a nearby diner for some lunch.

“What can I get ya sweetheart?” The waitress who has to be in her early 50’s asks.

“Coffee, black, and an omelette with a side of hash browns. Thanks.” You hand her back the menu and wait for your food.

You look around the diner, taking in the small amount of customers; an old couple having an early lunch, a few lone stragglers at the counter, each with a coffee and newspaper, and a young girl and boy who are probably skipping class.  

The waitress returns with your food, and as she puts it on the table, you pull the picture of Sam out of your pocket.

“Excuse me,” you catch her before she leaves.

“Yes?”

“By any chance do you know this man?” You show her the picture. “I know it’s old, but his name is Sam Winchester. Or maybe his father, John?”

She brings it to the tip of her nose, squinting as she examines it.

“Sorry hun, can’t say I do.” She hands it back to you.

You’re not even disappointed, at this point, you’re not surprised.

“Thanks.” She gives you a smile and turns away. 

Once you’re done, you drop your cash on the table and head out to the parking lot to your car. You don’t really know where you’re going next, but you figure you can head back to your motel room to regroup. 

As you put your key into the door lock, someone slams your body against the door, and you can feel something cold pressing against the back of your neck.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. I’m being mugged.

You close your eyes as you’re pressed even harder against the car.

“My wallet is in my right coat pocket. You can have it. Please just don’t hurt me.” You plead.

The person behind you doesn’t say anything.

Rather than reach for your pocket, his hand goes to your shoulder and he pulls you around, facing him. 

“Why are you asking about the Winchesters?” He demands.

You squint your eyes, the sun too bright from this angle.

He’s tall, but not much taller than you. His broad shoulders are covered in a worn leather jacket, one you had seen in the diner, and you can see the butt of a gun hiding inside. 

The blade goes to your throat, and he steps even closer, blocking the sun.

Your eyes go wide.

“Holy shit.” You gasp. His eyes narrow a bit.

“You’re suppose to be dead!” You yell at him. Now his entire face scrunches up and he starts looking around the parking lot to see if anyone heard your outburst.

“Listen lady, who the hell are you, and what do you want with my family? And why am I suppose to be dead?” His fingers tighten their grip around your shoulder. 

“Well this isn’t really how I wanted to do this, but the knife at my throat doesn’t give me much of a choice now does it?” He looks at the blade, and lowers it away from your neck, but keeps it poised as if he needs to attack at any minute. 

Paranoid much?

“Do what?” He grunts.

“You’re Dean Winchester, yes?” He stares you down, his green eyes scanning your face for the motive he has yet to figure out. 

You take his lack of response as a yes.

“I’m your daughter." 

His body recoils from you and his eyes quickly look around the area as his head cocks to the side, like maybe he’s heard you wrong. 

"Excuse me?” He spits. “I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to pull, but it ain’t funny, kid." 

You huff.

"I’m not pulling anything!” You yell in defense. “My mother’s name is Cindy Brackman. She lived in Hamilton, Idaho and the two of you met when you were 19. Apparently you and your dad were on vacation or something there that summer and you met my mom. She was a photographer. You left before she had a chance to tell you she was pregnant. And she tried to call but your phone was disconnected.”

His face goes blank as he listens to your story, and his eyes seem to be looking over your shoulder. You could tell right away that he recognized your mother’s name as his face seemed surprised at her mention, but he had yet to actually say anything.

“Look, I know this is hard to believe, but I’m not here for money or anything like that.” His gaze snaps back to yours. “I’m just trying to find my family is all.”

His eyes look you up and down, and you can tell he’s sizing you up.

Someone’s got major trust issues.

“So why now? Why after, what? Twenty years, you come looking for me?" 

Your shoulders fall and a lump in your throat that keeps you from swallowing makes it harder to breathe. 

"Um,” you swallow and shut your eyes, your teeth biting the inside of your cheek. “She passed away.” You say quietly. “About a week ago.”

His hand falls away from your shoulder and you open your eyes. The knife is no longer pointed at you, but hanging at his side. 

“I have no one left. I’m just looking for my family.” You shrug. You can hear the pain in your voice, and you don’t him to think you’re trying to guilt him letting you into his life.

“Look, I know this is a total shocker and confusing as hell, but I don’t want you be okay with this if you’re not. I just want you to be honest about it. If you want me to stay, I will, but otherwise I’ll head back to my motel and head home. I’m a big girl. I haven’t had a father for the last 20 years, not having one at all won’t be that big of a deal.”

Though you really do want to get to know him, if you’re going to be nothing but a burden to him, you don’t want to waste your time. 

He’s silent for a moment, just staring at you.

“You look just like my mother when she was younger.” He finally says, a small smile on his lips.

You duck your head and smile. 

You never really looked like your mom or her family, and people always found it hard to believe you were related. 

“I’m sorry she’s dead.” You say earnestly.

His lips part and his eyes scrunch again. 

“How’d you know that?”

You shrug. 

“I did my research. That’s how I knew about John and Sam.” You pause and bite your lips, not sure if you should ask, but do anyways. “Are they–”

“My dad died years ago.” He finishes for you. “But Sammy’s still around. It’s just me and him." 

You were curious if he had any other kids. Maybe you had a brother too.

"I don’t have any siblings, do I?”

Dean laughs and shakes his head.

“God I hope not. I have a feeling you’re going to be more than enough." 

You laugh and smile up at him.

"Let’s go get your stuff. Family doesn’t stay in motels.” He puts a hand on your shoulder. 

“Thanks…dad.” You try with hesitancy and a big smile hoping he’ll be okay with it.

His eyes go wide and he looks like he might have had a mini aneurysm. 

“Sorry, just trying it out.”

He laughs with a sigh.