FN Gothic: You are on chopped. Alex Guarnaschelli is tasting your dish. “Its so…daddy” she says. You gasp. You look down and realize you have a pot belly and are wearing 1996-circa faded denim jeans with loafers. Your hands are calloused and hairy. You can’t see. You put on your glasses. ‘Since when do I need glasses?’ you think. You now clearly see the judges. They all look like you. They are all average BBQ dads with salt and pepper goatees. Ted Allen makes a dad joke. You scream, but the only sound that comes out is a hearty, dad-like chuckle. You realize you are standing in a backyard. Someone asks if you want mustard on your burger. You are crying
Summary: Jensen and Y/N had a love that happens once in a lifetime, until it slipped through their fingers. Years later, he has moved on, but deep in his heart she will always be the one he dreams of. Y/N returns with a secret he’ll never know.
Characters: Jensen, Reader (Y/N)
Word Count: 2935
Warnings: ANGST, fluff, romance, sadness, guilt, pain, regret, tears…. I could go on.
You sit at the small coffee bar table all alone, fingers worrying at the cup of forgotten coffee going colder every moment, your knees are pressed tightly together below the tabletop, ankles crossed and one foot bouncing in double-time to the heartbeat you can feel at the back of your tongue. A shadow passes across your hands and you glance up to the glass door and expansive floor-to-ceiling windows. Hipsters in their chill wide cropped pants scoff at the new professionals in knockoff Stella McCartney. Still, every one of them has a phone pasted to their cheeks. Sun spots like camera flares from adjoining windows draw the straggling hopefuls in to see and be seen. Everyone chooses their part to perform. Great. This makes it easy to get lost in the slew of fake laughter and too-wide eyes.
‘This is pointless. Why did I even bother? What do I hope to accomplish?’ you whisper to yourself as your eyes range over the table top and the usual spotty utensils strangled in a paper napkin next to your elbow. A presence stops next to the chair opposite you. Without raising your head, you take your hands from the cup and curl your fingers into fragile fists, eyes clenched shut in a silent prayer for mercy. With the contained effort of purpose, you lay your trembling palms flat on the surface in front of your cup. Only then do you open your eyes and turn your face up. To him. That one special “him”.
“I am wearing my favorite indigo hand-blocked Malian wrap which I purchased from the artist 15 years ago, a small indigo scarf from Senegal, a vintage Liz Claiborne (LizWear) pinstriped jumpsuit, an all purpose Zara denim duster found at Salvation Army, and my trusty Pumas.I just need to be comfortable in my clothes at all times. I also look to the way indigenous people around the world cover themselves; layers of prints, textures, and patterns that serve a purpose but are also beautiful to look at to me. I love denim in all shades, fades and washes in blues and greys. I like to mix patterns, and I definitely prefer vintage pieces.”
Requested by Anon: Reader finds Tony on a random roof in New York. He’s all suited up and only there to think, and the reader waltzes into his path because she’s also there to think. They joke and make each other smile, even if both of them were trying to be alone (and maybe to cry tbh) Cute fluff between strangers.
Sam x Daughter!Reader, takes place in S12 E2, so (duh) warning: SPOILERS
Part One This is going to be a series I write over the course of Season 12 using the episode plot lines to mix on with my own ideas. This parts particularly long btw I got a tad carried away
Wincing, you turned your head in attempt to look away from the sight
but your eyes wouldn’t leave his mangled body. Sam Winchester, your Dad was
screaming in pain. You’d only just met him, but in this situation that didn’t matter. It could of been a complete stranger sat in that chair, in some ways it was, but you still wanted them to be okay. You didn’t want to see anyone else get hurt.
They dragged a blade down his chest, tracing the rips on his shirt. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, throwing his head back
and breathing heavily. Crimson trickled down him from all the wounds they’d abused onto his body.
‘Control the pain’ Your Mum’s
words ran through your brain as you continued to stare in disgust. You willed
him on silently, wanting him to stay as strong as he had so far. What was it Ms
Watt had said? “No one can withstand that
much pain and not break.”.
You swallowed nervously when Toni paused. It was always more worrying
when they’d stopped. The Men Of Letters were unpredictable, if nothing else.
She smirked and looked between the pair of you. “Let’s see how much family
means to you, shall we?” She declared softly, lifting your Dad’s chin with the tip
of the blade before wiping it’s bloody sides on his ripped shirt dyed with blood.
She strode over to you as confident as ever. Your wide eyes watch her.
Her hand hit your face. Just once. One clean hit.
“That’s for getting me into this mess” She hissed as though she wasn’t sure whether she should have sad it. “I don’t like getting my hands dirty.”
You smile politely “And yet here you are.”
“You’d be dead if it weren’t for my orders.”
“Since when do you follow your orders?!” You argue. It came out more loudly and angrily than you’d expected it to.
She smiled coldly before grabbing your forearm, clearly you’d hit a mark. You grunt in pain as
her thumb slowly sank into the stitches she’d given you last week from the
bullet wound. Her finger nail dug through the wound as remnants of blood
trickled down your arm. Painfully slow, she continued until she reached the
bone. You screamed in pain and shut your eyes.
“How about now, Sam?” She called over your gasps, tilting her head in his direction but her eyes never left where she applied the agonising pressure.
Control the pain.
You weren’t looking at him but you knew he still wouldn’t say..and rightfully so. You shook your head just to make sure, to reassure him you were on board with it.
“I wonder how far we can go. Tell me, would you let her die?”
“Leave her alone.” He growled.
Blood and puss spilled out and along your arm. Toni wiped her hand on a
flannel by the sink in the room. “I suggest you prepare yourself. What was it
your Mother always said? Control the pain.” She grinned, as if amused by your Mum’s words. As if she knew just how much you wouldn’t be able to
“Believe me I’m trying.” You mumble, catching your breath back and staring down at the broken threads.
“Hey, are you okay?” You Dad asked form the chair he’d been re-tied to.
He’d definitely taken the worst of it today. He had done since he’d arrived. And still he wanted to know if you were okay? Of course you were, anyone would be compared to what pain they were putting him through!
You nodded weakly, staring bleakly at the wound she’d opened up again. Returning his concern, you managed a “You?”
You didn’t see him smile lightly at this. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.” You sigh, leaning against the harsh uneven stones behind
“It’s not your fault.” He sounded almost amused by the idea. What could a kid have done to make all this happen? If only he knew.
“It kind of is…the only reason they’re interested in you is because of me…” You paused, racking your brain before adding “well, and the whole apocalypse thing.”
He chuckled. Despite everything- he chuckled. ”Not that you’re the only one’s to save the world.” You note. ”Seriously?” He sounded curious. Interested in what you had to say- a first for you. It was strange, to be having something close to a conversation in such a position. Tied up. Chained down. And yet talking.
“Seriously, America isn’t the only place in the world you know. Last known
apocalypse threat was in Norway.”
“Right, of course.” He nodded, going along with it.
The room fell silent as you watched the sun rise slowly from the cracks
in the barricaded doors. It wasn’t too uncomfortable. Just quiet. Neither of
you wanted to say or ask much with the cameras recording it all. You knew he had questions, your Mum always told you how you got your never dying curiosity from your father. Hell, you had questions too but what could you possibly ask? Where to start? You hoped he would. for you.
“Look, there’s no easy way to ask this, but…did they…did they…kill your Mom?” He asked, his American
accent now more dominant than before.
“…Yeah,” You nod, looking up at him for once “If you step out of line they’re not very forgiving.” You sighed.
“I’m sorry-“ He paused but it still sounded as though he had more to say when the door
swung open. Your heads turned to see Toni back, she had that mischievous look to her and you didn’t like it one bit.
“Oh go screw yourself.” Sam spat, making you smirk a little.
“Three Winchesters in one room, it must be my lucky day.”
She dragged in a tall
man, his arms chained much like yours only unattached to the wall. He had a
leather jacket, shorter hair and loose jeans complete with combats. A Hunter
for sure. Flecks of dirt where speckled across his sweating brow and grass-stains smudged his jeans at the knees where the denim had faded.
“Dean?” Your Dad’s face went ashen. You frowned for a second in thought. “I’m just as pleased to see him as you are.” She dragged him down the steps and connected his chains to the ceiling. His face was plastered with anger and regret. No doubt regretting his previous actions. He’d probably landed on the mark just outside the trapdoors. They teleported trespassers in- which would have been nice to know before you’d planned your escape last week. You were originally on the chair in the room, but after that attempt- which, mind you,would have worked if it weren’t for that teleportation symbol- they chained you up.
You look up at the open door, eyeing a possible escape route before turning your attention back to the man: ‘Dean’.
“I thought you were dead.” Sam looked so relieved you would have
thought he’d been released.
“I’m not sure that I’m not” His green eyes fell on you but you were already
observing him “Who’s the kid?”
You snort quietly: ‘Kid.’
“That’s uh…my uh…daughter.”
You looked away when Dean stared back at you. You hadn’t noticed Toni getting out a new instrument of torture until now.
Dean’s face fell to a confused and shocked frown as he looked at you.
“How long was I gone?” Dean joked, busying himself with comedy as he struggled
to take it in.
“Not that this isn’t a beautiful family reunion or anything, but I‘d love to get back to the main point here.” Toni smiled,
her sinister eyes watching the three of you. “Did you know, Dean. Bodies have certain pressure points of intense
pain when prodded. There’s the earlobe, under the belt of course, and my
personal favourite: just under the eyelid-”
You gave up listening to her ramble on when you heard the quietest of footsteps. You turn your eyes toward the doorway at the top of the steps and see the shadow of someone. The silhouette was perfectly still and armed with a gun. You tried to rack through names in your mind to figure out who this was but no one made any sense. It couldn’t be Mick could it? The shadow jolted into motion and swung so they were on their side. This time you could see the body. It was a female, dirty blond hair and angry eyes. She wore a jacket over a t-shirt, jeans, and brown boots. And she was staring directly at you.
You looked back over to Toni who continuing to talk, prod, and demand answers- oblivious. You looked back at the woman and nodded.
She nodded back before cocking her gun and holding it up to the back of Toni’s head. “Get away from my boys.” She spoke coldly and firmly. Toni turned to face the woman. “Drop it.” She moved her gun to point at the metal rod and then back to her face.
“…Mom?” Your Dad stared in shock at this rescuer. “Yeah, I know.” Dean nodded, smirking at his brother.
“Ground.” Toni continued to stare. The woman stepped forward and kicked her to the floor. “That’s the ground.” Never lowering her firearm, she stepped backwards and found the keys to your chains. She glanced over to you, as if considering whether she could in fact trust you or not. Without any more hesitation, she tossed them to you and you caught them despite the chains. You unlocked your left, then your right, the cold metal finally falling away from your wrists.
You jumped to your feet, instantly into fight-mode. Careful to avoid the radius Toni could reach, you stepped around her and unlocked the chains so Dean was free. As you pressed the key into the lock you heard the shouts of the women. A gunshot. Another shout. Punches. A kick. You tried to drown out the distractions, there could be a gun aimed directly at the back of your head for all you knew at that moment. A millisecond away from death. But you had to free them before you could worry about yourself. Finally, the chain’s unlocked and you caught a “..Thanks, Kid…” as he raced to join the fight, his hand patting your shoulder for a second as he rushed past. You avoided them and grabbed a knife from the table in the corner to cut your Father free.
Just as expected, Dean and the lady had the upper hand…but Toni slit the palm of her hand with the metal and suddenly the lady fell to the floor. She clasped her hands round her throat and gasped for air. “Stop the spell.” Dean practically screamed. “If you kill me, you die with her.” Toni smirked, manipulation was something she enjoyed a little too much. You shook your head, knowing the truth and strode over to Toni, knife still in hand. She watched you, her face becoming more and more worried as you neared. You ignored Dean’s warnings for you to stay back. A small smile crept on your face and only one thought was on your mind: revenge.
Raising the blade, you stabbed it straight through her palm and into the wall behind her- preventing her from moving any closer. She screamed in pain and thrashed her free hand out to try and punch you. You blocked with ease, twisting her hand round until a small crack sounded. She screamed once more. Revenge? Tick.
“Oi! Leave her” A London accent filled the room. You noted the point of authority he used to hold over you and you shook your head in disbelief before turning round and glaring at him. “Alright.” You greet coldly. You step back from Toni at your own accord. Hovering between joining your Father and remaining solo. You didn’t notice your Dad step towards you.
Mick looked at you with disappointment. He had the audacity to look down at you as iif they were your orders to ignore or as if it was your mission to fail. He walked over to Toni, pulling your blade from her hand. She cried out. “You had specific orders, Bevell,” He wiped the blade and set it back down on the table before turning to face your Father, his brother, and his Mother. “I’m sorry about Bevell, Lads. I really am. She’ll be dealt with back in London, trust me.” You wondered if he meant that or not. You wondered if you could ever trust him again.
You wondered if you’d ever get the chance.
“And Sam, Y/N’s your problem now. I don’t particularity give a damn whether you want her or not but she’s not use to us anymore…” You look down at this, you’d thought maybe he meant what he’d told you before. Apparently not. You were just another tool to gain America’s trust.
The rest of what he said was what you’d heard him practice a thousand times. You could have listened, but what was the point? You’d learnt the entire speech at this point. You could recite it for him if he was that desperate. But, something told you he wasn’t.
The one thing you’d failed to notice thus far was a stiff figure stood close to Dean. He had a long tan-coloured trenchcoat, white shirt, and blue tie. He looked strangely formal- it suited him. You looked at the man, who was watching Mick with a small frown on his face. Who was he? And why didn’t he look quite right? There was something slightly odd about him that made him different from the rest of you…but what?
When Mike had finished his proposal and left you felt the room fall to silence. How many eyes were on you? Sighing, you make your way over to the table and open up the draw. Maybe they’d left it behind for you.
“So she’s your…kid?” Dean asked, clearly not picking up on the fact that you didn’t appreciate the use of the word. “..Uh, yeah. Her Mum was uh, before I met Jess. I had no idea…” Your Dad said what anyone would have said. About how shocked they were to have found out. But you were to busy rummaging through the draws to find it. Despite the tense atmosphere, you smiled to yourself when you saw it- your Mum’s pistol. She’d left it to you and it was the one thing the Men Of Letters respected as rightfully yours, no questions asked. You checked the ammo to make sure none had been used before tucking it in your jacket and finally looking up.
As suspected, four pairs of curious eyes were on you. You shifted awkwardly, unable to stare back any longer. “We should get going.” The man who you still didn’t know declared. His voice was deep and gruff, but sympathetic also. You were too tired to question anything. “Yeah, come on.” Dean nodded, steering past you to the stairs and open doorway. The Lady followed. The man in the trench-coat was next. Then your Father. But unlike the others, your Dad stopped in the doorway. “You coming?” He asked, smiling encouragingly. You were taken back by this. After everything, all the vague pieces of information Mick and Toni offered and their obvious associations with you and yet he still wanted you.
“You mean…you actually want me to come?” You ask quietly, finally understanding the feeling of being wanted. A man who you barely new was willing to accept you into his household. Hell, you were even from different countries. “Y/N,” He took in a deep breath, this was the first time he’d said your name “You’re my daughter..” He stepped down so he was closer to you “Of course I do.” He tilted his head back slightly to gesture you out of the room “Come on then, let’s go.” His arm loosely held your back as he gently took you away from the room.