drift cuff

On The Door Step - part 1

Parings: Dean x Sister!Reader x Sam

Summary: In 2000, John Winchester opened the door to his current motel room and found a little girl at his feet, sleeping peacefully with a fuzzy white blanket tucking her in a wicker basket. Now, nearly 16 years later, (Y/N) has still yet to find herself in the world of the Winchesters.

prologue

Warning: Slight season 10/11 spoilers, moody teenager, cursing, angry Dean, mentions of character death

Words:  1,332

A/N: Hi again, just wanted to thank everyone for the notes on the prologue. After a while of thinking over the story, I have discovered what I wish to do with it! And I apologize in advance for long periods between posts. Enjoy!


My bare feet feel cold against the bunker’s tile floor as I make my way to the kitchen in the dark. The sleeves of the huge hoodie Sam bought me last Christmas cover my hands, keeping them warm from the chilly air. Expecting to see my brothers sitting at the table, their faces glued to computer screens and bodies jittery from caffeine, my heart sinks closer to my stomach when I find the kitchen empty.

“Where the hell are you?” I breathe into the empty space.

I check my phone, reloading my messages. Nothing. Radio silence.

Sam left me at the bunker a week ago, telling me he had to stop Dean from doing something stupid again. He’d given me a hug, a kiss on the forehead and then rushed out the door in a blur. Other than a message explaining how I have to stay in the bunker and that they’ll call me out of school until further notice three days ago, there’s been nothing.

Balling the ends of my sleeve into my hands, I cross my arms and sink into the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. The dark thoughts I have been fighting so hard to keep back come creeping back in.

I haven’t even heard anything from Castiel or Charlie… At least one of them would give me some kind of update.

I run my fingers through my hair, slightly pulling at the strands as I can feel the tears weld up in my eyes. They can’t be dead. They’re Winchesters.

Just as I’m edging on the ledge of an anxiety attack, my phone lights up and vibrates against the tile floor. I scramble to pick it up, dropping it in the process of switching the small green icon to answer the call from Sam.

“Sammy?” I ask weakly, biting on my thumbnail and hoping it’s not an officer calling me because they found their bodies.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Sam says calmly and releasing a sigh. “I’ve been meaning to call, but things have been… busy.”

I roll my eyes. They’re always hiding things, or trying to hide things from me. They dropped me off at a library before they asked the man who cut off his arm questions and they also tried to cover up the fact that that man’s family was going to burn the bunker to the ground (I wasn’t home for that either, they thought it would be best to drop me off at Jody’s for the weekend).

They can never tell me everything.

“Is Dean okay? And have you heard anything from Charlie, she hasn’t been answering.”

Sam takes a moment to breathe deeply, and I can just imagine how tired and stressed he looks. A heartbeat later, Sam’s ready to talk.

“(Y/N), Charlie’s dead.”

“What?! When?!”

“She’s been dead for a couple of weeks, (Y/N/N).” Tears well up in my eyes, and I have to fight them from falling. “Dean killed the men that did it.”

Of course he did.

“Castiel isn’t doing to well, but the three of us will be home soon.” With that, Sam hangs up and I close my eyes as a few tears trail down my cheek. She was my best friend. How could they not tell me? How come it took so long to tell me?!

I can feel the slow simmer of my blood beneath my flesh and my eyes flicker to the digital clock on my phone’s screen. I have an hour to get to school.


My fingers hold the ice pack against my eye lid as my body shifts in the chair across from the principal’s office door. The secretary judges me from her thick pink rimmed glasses, and I glare back at her in response. My leg bounces with the left over adrenaline from the fight that had just taken place in my math class. To be honest, I don’t know the kid that I started this fight with, I’m not even sure he deserved it, but I had to do something.

“Winchester,” Principal Young calls from her office door, just as Dean and Sam walk into the front office. They both catch the eye of the secretary, and I snicker as she ogles at them. Dean glares at me, silently asking me if I think this is funny (he’s completely unaware of the old woman practically drooling over them). 

I quickly make my way to the small office and take a seat in front of the wooden desk, my hands between my legs and my head ducked down. Young takes his seat at the desk, pointing to the other two uncomfortable chairs for my brothers to sit. Once they do, he sets to work, explaining that I have one last chance to clean up my act or I’ll be expelled.

Young finishes by giving the same spiel that he’s given me before. “You’re a good student,” “You have good grade, you just need a better attitude.” The same tune… yadda yadda.

Frustrated, I drop kick the ice pack into the parking lot once we were excused. Dean is the first to speak up.

“So, what? We come home and you decide you just have to punch the first kid you see?” He hollers, tossing my book bag at me. My bag drops to the concrete, the zipper undoing and spilling the contents. I watch the blank notebook papers dance in the air, tucking my hair behind my ears before bending down to pick it up.

“Dean-”

“No, Sam! I wanna know!” Dean continues to yell, tossing his hands up. “Every time we’re gone, you’re “the best student of the school” but when we’re here, you seem to lose your fucking mind!” 

“Dean!” Sam shouts at our brother, pulling on his shoulder to force him to stop. “You’re making it worse.”

My body feels extremely warm and my cheeks are damp with tears I hadn’t realized I was shedding. My stomach clenches tight and my vision blurs with the unsheded salty water and my shoulders quiver and the palms of my hands dig into my eyes as the reality really sets in that Charlie is gone.

“(Y/N)?” Dean kneels down and places a hand on my shoulder.

“I miss her,” I meet his eyes, my voice quivering. I haven’t cried this hard since Sam dragged Dean’s wounded body to his room, telling me that Metatron killed him.

Dean pulls me into his chest, my fingers wrapping tightly around the flannel. Dean hugs me tight, smoothing out my hair, mumbling, “I miss her too.”

After several long minutes of my brothers giving me hugs, Sam walks me to the car with me tucked under his arm, promising me that we’ll get back to the bunker and we’ll sit down and watch whatever movie I want. No matter how cheesy and romantic it is, we’ll watch it.

Castiel greets me with a weak smile as I take my spot in the back of the Impala, and my eyes drift to the cuffs around his wrist. My eyebrows raise, “why is he cuffed?”

“Rowena did something,” Sam answers bluntly. “We’re taking precautions.” Nodding along to Sam’s words, I tuck my bag between the seats and smile at Cas.

“Would you like me to heal that?” Castiel huffs out, slowly raising a hand towards his own eye. Before I can speak, Dean interrupts.

“Cas, you need your strength.” Cas seems to ignore my brother, still watching me as he waits for an answer.

“No, I’m good.” I sniffle, forcing a large smile. “It adds character anyways.”

Castiel smiles weakly before resting his head back and slightly closing his eyes. Dean speeds out of the parking lot, Sam grumbling something underneath his breath, and I lean back into the seat, my eyes growing heavy as I watch the trees pass by.

I’ll never forget you, Charlie. I close my eyes, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she can hear me wherever she is.


Next

Love to Hate You (part 8-Finale)

Words: 2.3k

Summary: An innocent prayer complicates your life with Lucifer.

Warnings: Sexual themes (non-descriptive) and violence.

A/N: Here is our finale. If you’d like to be added to my master tag list, shoot me an ask or DM (Tumblr doesn’t always give me notifications on comments and reblogs.

—————

Lucifer rolled off you with a huff and pulled you to his chest. He grinned up at the ceiling while letting his fingertips drift lazily along your skin. “Told you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help giggle at the same time. “Yes, yes. The great and powerful Lucifer is always right.”

“You can mock me all you want Princess,” he cooed as he rolled on top of you again. “but it only makes me want to break the record again.”

You giggled as you ran your fingers through his blonde hair. “Such a cocky boy. You think you’re such a gift.”

“The gift that keeps on giving.” He said with a cheeky grin before capturing your lips in another passionate kiss.

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