#Dean Winchester x Male!Reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eepwtf · 4 months ago

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UPCOMING BOTS / BOT DUMP!!

i’m a sucker for the fall season, every and any season CANNOT top the fall season at all. which is why i’m making (some) horror/halloween inspired bots—even if there’s like 70 something days till halloween. along with a few random bots i've done and going to do.

tvdu ☆彡

Kai Parker: 𓏲ּ ghostface au! 𓂃

after you caught his eyes, he had an inexplicable curiosity over you. every step you took, every conversation you had with other people, he was there, watching you from afar. of course, that didn’t sedate his curiosity over you. so, when someone in your orbit ventured a little too close, he took matters into his own hands—quite literally. he gutted the perceived threat, the world around him narrowing into a singular focus: you. to him, it wasn’t just a crime; it was an artistic expression, a violent confession of his feelings woven into a tapestry of blood and chaos. He crafted his work with meticulous care, each stroke of the blade a declaration of his affection. yet, in the heat of his actions, a twist of fate caught him off guard—there you were, witnessing it all. Elena Gilbert: 𓏲ּ halloween costumes 𓂃

caroline's halloween party loomed on the horizon, a spectral deadline that demanded perfection. every cobweb, jack-o'-lantern, and plastic skeleton needed to be meticulously placed. the entire event had to be flawless, a masterpiece of festive horror. you, however, felt a different kind of dread. social gatherings weren't your forte, and the thought of navigating a sea of costumed strangers made your stomach churn. but elena, with her infectious enthusiasm, had other plans. she'd already amassed an army of costumes for you to try on, each one more outrageous than the last. as she twirled before you in a dizzying parade of personas—from sultry vampire to whimsical fairy—her eyes sparkled with anticipation, silently demanding your opinion on each piece of clothing she’d modeled on herself. Elena Gilbert: 𓏲ּ cookies and kisses 𓂃

elena passion for baking was palpable, even if she wasn't a seasoned expert. what truly brought her joy was your presence in the kitchen, your willingness to join her culinary adventures. she cherished those moments when you'd sample her latest creations, those little baking treats she'd present with such enthusiasm. as you took that first bite, elena's eyes would light up, watching intently for your reaction. the moment you'd let out a contented groan of approval, a proud smile would bloom across her face, warming her from within. in those sweet instances, she felt a sense of accomplishment that went beyond the mere act of baking—it was about the connection, the shared experience, and the simple pleasure of making someone she cared for happy through her heartfelt efforts. Bonnie Bennett: 𓏲ּ season of the witch ( witch!user ) 𓂃

bonnie had gone to your place for witchcraft lessons, bringing some herbs you had specifically asked for, and of course, she brought the most important thing she needed for the lessons. herself. she knew that the lessons you were teaching her were more advanced, and that she needed to pay attention but as you began to explain the complex theories and gestures, she found her concentration wavering. your shoulder pressed against hers as you demonstrated a particularly intricate hand movement, the warmth of your body so close to hers, the subtle scent of herbs that clung to your skin, the intensity in your eyes as you spoke of each spell - it all combined to make her head spin.

Damon Salvatore: 𓏲ּ lost in your iris 𓂃

damon tried to fight his feelings for you, but you were his weakness. he sees you completely, and he’d do anything to have you near him. every glance you exchanged pulled him deeper into a world only you inhabited, where his heart raced and his resolve faltered. he yearned to lose himself in those captivating eyes, longing to feel the gentle spark of your existence beside him. Klaus Mikaelson: 𓏲ּ so confusing 𓂃

klaus wrestled with uncertainty, his feelings for you a tangled web of emotions. some days, he was convinced you harbored a deep-seated dislike for him, your every glance and gesture seeming to confirm his fears. other times, he caught himself nurturing a grudging resentment towards you, though he couldn't quite pinpoint its origin. despite all of that, he persistently suggested grabbing drinks. it had become his go-to solution, a way to bridge the gap between you two–or perhaps to blur the lines of your complicated relationship. so, inevitably, you'd find yourselves perched on barstools in some dimly lit establishment, nursing your drinks, surrounded by the hum of stranger's conversations. the atmosphere was always thick with unspoken words and lingering glances. sometimes, you'd manage to fall into an easy rhythm, laughing at shared jokes and swapping stories about your day. in these moments, the confusion would recede, and a genuine connection seemed possible. but more often than not, an awkward tension would creep in. silences stretched too long, laughter felt forced, and both of you would become hyper-aware of every word and gesture. ( this is actually my fav rn!! )

Klaus Mikaelson: 𓏲ּ his muse 𓂃

klaus always found himself getting lost in the dance of his hands across the canvas, transforming the lifeless white expanse into a vibrant masterpiece. the studio was his sanctuary, a world inhabited only by his artistic vision and you—his ethereal muse. in his eyes, you were the embodiment of perfection, and his brush strokes captured your essence without flaw. the art, a mirror of his perception, revealed no imperfections, for in his mind, you were utterly flawless.

spn ⟢

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ angels and halloween ( angel!user ) ᵎᵎ

you were an angel, which meant that you had no idea about humans, especially in their tradition of halloween. so when dean catches you staring at the halloween decor, and costumes in a store, he goes out of his way to make this a memorable halloween for the angel. he planned an elaborate evening, starting with pumpkin carving. your first attempt at pumpkin carving was... unique. the face you created had a lopsided grin and mismatched eyes, one comically larger than the other. next came costume selection, where the two of you went to the nearest halloween, a warehouse-sized space filled with endless racks of costumes and accessories. you browsed through countless options: superheroes, movie characters, mythical creatures. dean suggested a sexy devil costume with a mischievous grin, but you firmly declined, not finding the humor in it. ( i think this is my top 2 fav! )

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ insatiable ( vamp!user ) ᵎᵎ

dean’s fangs throbbed with an insatiable hunger, a primal urge he struggled to contain. every pulse of blood rushing through nearby veins called to him like a siren's song. the warmth radiating from human bodies sent shockwaves of desire coursing through his undead form. but resistance only seemed to intensify the craving. his heightened senses picked up on every nuance—the slight sheen of sweat on exposed skin, the rhythmic thump of hearts, the tantalizing scent of life itself. through it all, you observed him drinking in his struggle like a fine wine, with a knowing smirk playing at the corners of your mouth. your eyes sparkled with amusement, fully aware of the internal battle raging inside dean. you knew exactly what he craved—what he needed. and yet here you stood, taunting him, daring him to give in to his darkest impulses.

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ dark magic ( witch!user ) ᵎᵎ

dean wasn’t that awfully nice when it came down to witches or anything surrounding the supernatural. everything he stood suddenly disappeared when it came to you, logic fled and instinct reigned. your very existence seemed to weave an enchantment around him, bending his iron will as easily as a whisper bends a candle flame. in your orbit, he became a different man—softer, more open, as if you alone held the key to unlocking a hidden part of his soul. but your influence was not without cost. your magic, steeped in shadow, left a trail of upheaval in their wake. chaos bloomed wherever you tread, a dark garden of your own making. ( not sure i might stick with this plot, but am so hhhng im lazy )

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ might say somethin stupid ᵎᵎ

after a long, exhausting hunt, dean heads to a nearby bar to unwind. weighed down by the night's events, he orders a drink and surveys the room. his attention is quickly drawn to a stunning individual sitting a few stools away. intrigued, dean moves closer, captivated by their effortless beauty and presence. deciding to engage, he buys them a drink and leans in, confidently flirting with a playful question about their relationship status, hoping to shift the mood and distract himself from the tension of the hunt.

Sam Winchester: ๑ ︵ bloody date ᵎᵎ

it was catastrophic. sam knew, deep in his bones, what you truly were. he might have chastised himself for harboring feelings for you, convinced he was teetering on the edge of insanity as his heart clenched painfully within his chest at the mere thought of your presence. but fuck, you were worth it right? this date, however, shattered any remaining illusions. it was meant to be an intimate affair—small, meaningful, a cherished memory in the making. well, you sure as hell made it memorable for him to ever forget it. there you stood, fangs sunk deep into your helpless victim, crimson rivulets painting the edges of your mouth like some macabre artwork.

slashers ☆彡

Brahms Heelshire: ୭ ∿ i'll be good ∿

you had reluctantly accepted the nanny position, despite the suspiciously high salary. the isolated manor and eccentric heelshire family raised red flags, but desperation silenced your misgivings. nothing, however, could have prepared you for the absurdity of your charge – a porcelain doll named brahms. initially, you played along with the charade, following the strict rules set by the heelshires. but as days turned to weeks, an unsettling truth emerged. the real brahms was no doll, but a grown man, which in hindsight would be something to be freaked out about but for you it was fine, however the fact that the brahms could be a little too clingy was the problem. simple errands became ordeals. attempts to leave the property triggered tantrums, brahms clinging to you not wanting you to leave him.

Patrick Bateman: ୭ ∿ touch starved ∿

patrick never considered himself a touch-starved person. in fact, he often thrived in the artificial perfection of his meticulously curated life. he relished the combination of power suits and high-stakes finance, his existence orchestrated with a calculated precision that left no room for vulnerability. but from the moment you entered his life, everything changed. he found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame, craving your touch in a way that defied his logical mind. in the upscale restaurants you frequented—places with starched tablecloths, crystal stemware, and prices that made most people wince—patrick's behavior shifted noticeably. while he once sat rigidly across from his dining companions, maintaining a respectable distance, with you he couldn't bear even that small separation. he'd guide you to the plush booth seating, sliding in close enough that your thighs touched beneath the table. as you perused the menu, his arm would find its way around your shoulders, fingers absently tracing patterns on your skin. during the meal, he'd lean in unnecessarily close to murmur observations about the food or other patrons, his breath warm against your ear. as the evenings wore on, patrick found increasingly creative ways to maintain contact. he'd reach across the table to adjust your napkin or brush an imaginary crumb from your cheek. Patrick Bateman: ୭ ∿ feeling bratty? ∿

patrick felt more on edge as time passed, a tightening coil of frustration that wound ever tighter within him. when the tension reached its boiling point, he reacted instinctively, striking out like a stray cat cornered and threatened, hissing and baring its tiny fangs. in that moment of vulnerability, his anger found an outlet in the nearest target—unfortunately, that target was you. deep down, he recognized his own insufferable behavior; he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. he watched as you scoffed at his provocations or simply ignored his taunts, and each dismissive reaction stoked the flames of his irritation. the more you turned away, the more desperately he sought your attention, despite knowing the fire he was playing with could easily burn him.

misc ⟢

Soldier Boy: 𓂃 ꒰ freak show ꒱

Ben never imagined he'd find himself at the entrance of a peculiar circus, its weathered sign proclaiming "freak show" in faded letters. for weeks, vought's pr team had hounded him relentlessly, insisting that this appearance would be "good for public relations" and "humanize" him in the eyes of the masses. ben had scoffed at first, but their persistence wore him down like water on stone. now, here he was, surrounded by wide-eyed gawkers and the constant buzz of excited whispers. as the show began, ben found himself oddly captivated. each act was more outlandish than the last - contortionists twisting their bodies into impossible shapes, fire-breathers painting the air with flames, and strongmen hefting weights that should have been beyond human capability. but then, as the ringmaster's booming voice announced the next act, the tent fell into a hushed silence. a single spotlight illuminated the center ring, and ben's breath caught in his throat. there you were. the aerialist.

Stiles Stilinski: 𓂃 ꒰ favorite monster ꒱

stiles was well versed when it came down to the supernatural, he read every book, myth, and stories when it came to the supernatural. was well aware of the dangers of ghosts, werewolves, vampires the whole gist, you name it he undoubtedly knows it all. of course, you were a different case, a unique case that even though he knew the dangers about being a vampire he couldn’t for the life of himself get away from you. every late-night conversation and shared secret made it harder for him to keep his distance. as the two of you walked through the forest, discussing everything from pop culture to existentialism, it was at the very instant that your sudden laugh made his heart race. the warmth in your eyes and the way you would brush your hand with his rendered him utterly transfixed. he wondered how it was possible to feel so electrified and safe in the presence of someone who was, by all accounts, a threat. Stiles Stilinski: 𓂃 ꒰ you're ghostface ꒱

stiles didn’t know what to expect when the rumors of a serial killer began circulating in their small town. the gossip, dripping with fear and intrigue, shattered the fragile peace of beacon hills. as he stumbled through the dimly lit alley, the unmistakable glint of a knife illuminated by the flickering light from the nearby streetlamp caught his eye, and as the scene grew clearer, every hope he'd entertained shattered like glass. you, standing over a crumpled figure on the ground, the knife still gleaming in your hand, ghostface mask perched above your head. stiles had known you—i mean, really known you. the fact it was you, who was said killer made his stomach churn. he felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath him, leaving him suspended in disbelief.

Madison Montgomery: 𓂃 ꒰ bitchy!user ꒱

madison's initial reaction to your caustic demeanor was a blend of irritation and intrigue. it catches her off guard; she's unaccustomed to having her façade challenged so directly. your unwavering stance and refusal to be cowed gnaws at her composure, chipping away at the armor of superiority she's cultivated. yet, beneath her outward indignation, she finds herself grudgingly impressed. your razor-sharp retorts and quick wit present a novel challenge—one that simultaneously infuriates and exhilarates her.

Madison Montgomery: 𓂃 ꒰ tobacco lips ꒱

before her death, madison was already dead inside. numb to the world, she craved to feel—anything. she chased oblivion through a haze of flesh, drugs, and alcohol, desperately seeking to drown the echoes of her past. each indulgence was a futile attempt to erase the memories: her mother's absence, her asshole of a father, the relentless scrutiny of the press, and the string of lovers who had taken pieces of her without leaving anything in return. she had found her way to the nearest bar, her face, heavily caked with makeup, felt like a mask weighing her down. her once-pearly teeth, now tobacco-stained, hid behind a sneer. the dress she'd chosen, meant to turn heads, only succeeded in making her look cheap rather than alluring. she navigated the crowded gathering with a practiced arrogance, projecting an aura of superiority she didn't feel. a fresh cigarette dangled from her lips, the filter stained with lipstick—a silent testament to her desperation. her words flowed freely, empty promises spilling from her mouth to the eager ears of men old enough to know better. then, through the haze of smoke and poor decisions, she saw you. beautiful, poised you—the coven's rising star, their future supreme. you stood surrounded by distinguished men, everything madison's admirers lacked. everything madison herself lacked. shame crashed over madison, as darted out, trying to get away from your sight.

might fix some of these but …. probably not anyway! @eppwtf on c.ai 😛

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supernaturalscribe67 · 1 year ago

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Lucky

Words: 4,699

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Dean/Sam Winchester x Trans!FTM!Winchester!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Mention of surgery, references to top surgery recovery, slight gore (maybe?), language (also, maybe?), loving and supportive family members, fluff

Summary: Top surgery was never something the reader thought was possible. With the help of Sam, he was able to make his dream come true, and his brothers are there for him to help while he's in recovery.

Request:

I would absolutely love Dean and Sam with a younger trans brother who just got top surgery and is in recovery? Just fluff of like helping him wash his hair or getting things for him and reassuring them? Love your content so much!! It so nice to see some more trans content in the supernatural fandom :)

@cometcreates

A/N: I am so sorry this took a little longer to get out than I planned - work has been extremely hectic and draining recently - but I hope you like it! Let me know what you think! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Much love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

People define luck in many different ways. Some say luck is a dollar bill lying on the ground, some say it’s a passing grade once they get their tests back, and others say it’s their true love. (Y/N), however, would define his luck as waking up every morning in the Men of Letters bunker with his brothers.

Years ago when he came out to his older brothers as transgender, although they were a little confused at first, they were fully supportive. They did everything in their power to make sure that their little brother was comfortable, not only in their home and out in public but in his skin as well. They purchased a binder for him, got him better clothing, adjusted rather quickly to his name and pronoun change, and got defensive - sometimes a little too much - whenever someone misgendered him. With all that they were doing for him, (Y/N) couldn’t imagine how luckier he could get. He already had an amazing support system, what else could he need?

At the end of last year, Sam approached him and asked him if he had been wanting to get top surgery, something they had talked about once or twice, but never regularly. When (Y/N) showed his interest in getting the surgery, Sam told him that he had done some research about different places where he could potentially get the procedure done, as well as all the criteria that certain places needed for him to qualify. After they sat and talked for a while, they concluded that, with Sam’s assistance, they would get started on (Y/N)’s journey toward top surgery.

The months following consisted of semi-monthly visits with a psychologist Sam found in Hays, KS - all of the medical professionals required a steady diagnosis of gender-dysphoria from a registered psychologist to be able to consider the patient for the operation - as well as reading up on the aftermath of the surgery and what was to be expected. Of course, (Y/N) knew he would get all of the information from his surgeon before it was done, but he wanted to make sure he was well-informed and nothing was left out of the consultation.

The consultation went well, and, after waiting for an eternity in the examination room, the doctor finally came in and set up the date for the surgery. (Y/N) was over the moon, and he immediately began to count down the days. Sam and Dean helped him get all of the necessary items he needed for the surgery recovery; various snacks, scar care creams, a surgical binder, a mastectomy pillow, and an extremely cozy blanket that he had begged them to buy. Even after they had gotten everything on the list, occasionally, they would buy something they thought would be beneficial for the recovery period.

Then, they waited. Day after day went by and (Y/N) found it difficult to focus on hunting rather than the anxiety and anticipation that bubbled within him, but his brothers kept him grounded in times of distress. They could tell just how excited he was, and they never wanted to dampen the mood by turning his focus back on the job. They wanted him to keep that enthusiasm even after he had the surgery. When the day of the surgery came, they didn’t even try to calm his excitement. Just seeing how happy he was made them feel the same.

The surgery went well. The recovery was going to be the hard part. The doctor made sure to prescribe him pain medication, which the brothers had picked up before they left the surgical center to head back to the bunker, and gave him a pamphlet describing all of his recovery needs in grave detail. Of course, they had already been well-prepared for the occasion, but it was nice to have it on hand. (Y/N) stayed in the hospital under observation for two days until he was finally released, clad in nothing but a pair of shorts, some slides, his surgical binder, the drainage tubes and bulbs connected to each incision underneath the binder, and one of Sam’s flannels that rested against his shoulders, keeping the front open to allow his chest to breathe. After he was wheeled and loaded into the back of the car, the three brothers made the drive back home.

By the time the Impala edged its way into the well-lit garage, the sun had gone down, and the night sky was littered with stars. It wasn’t a long way to Lebanon from Kansas City, about five hours depending on traffic, but the trip wasn’t entirely painless. (Y/N) was thankful for the medications he was given after his surgery, but the bumpy backroads in Kansas were ruthless and did little to provide a comfortable drive home. He initially tried to sleep through the journey, but every pothole they hit - accompanied by an apology from his oldest brother - sent another wave of discomfort coursing through his chest. He had never felt more joy in his entire life than when he saw the familiar dirt road as he and his brothers got closer to the bunker.

Dean parked the car and killed the engine. He turned, arm draped over the back of the front seat. “You feeling okay?” He asked.

(Y/N) glanced over at him and gave a small nod. He adjusted himself and winced as the pain shot through his arms and chest. “Just sore, hurts like hell. When am I due for my next round of meds, Sammy?” He turned to his older brother in the passenger’s seat.

Sam looked back at him for a moment and then down at his phone screen. “You should be able to take some more now. Why don’t we get you inside and into your bed first? That way we can get you something to eat and drink with your medicine.”

“No food,” (Y/N) groaned. “I don’t feel like eating now.”

“You have to eat something.”

“Fine, I’ll eat some crackers, or something small, or one of those snack cakes I got, but I really can’t eat anything filling right now. I’ll eat some more in the morning when I’m feeling better.”

“Alright,”

“Now, can someone let me out? These doors are surprisingly heavy.”

“Yeah!” Dean said, quick to jump out of the car and head towards the back passenger’s side. He opened the door and held out a hand.

(Y/N) smiled weakly as he reached over and grabbed Dean’s hand. He was slow to move out of the seat and plant his feet on the ground. When he stood, his legs shook, but he let out a sigh of relief. His legs were weak. The recovery had consisted of laying in his hospital bed and, occasionally, getting up and taking a few steps inside his room, just to keep the blood flowing in his legs. With the lack of energy he had and the five-hour ride back, his legs felt completely numb, as if they were made of Jell-O.

Dean held (Y/N)’s hand tightly while his opposite arm wrapped around his waist. He moved him away from the car and shut the door. The two of them made their way to the bunker door. Sam jumped out of the car and caught up with them as they walked inside. When they were greeted with the metal stairs that landed in the War Room, (Y/N) stopped. He let out a sigh of defeat.

“This is going to hurt like Hell,” he mumbled. He reached a shaky arm over and grasped the railing until his knuckles paled.

“We’ll take it slow,” Dean nodded softly.

(Y/N) returned the nod and they began to walk down the stairs, one step at a time. The entire time they walked, Dean held onto him tightly, both of their eyes cast down towards the steps. Each step, despite the snail’s pace they walked at, made a jolt of pain shoot through (Y/N)’s back. A pained expression crossed his face multiple times as he pressed his lips together tightly.

Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairs and another contempt sigh left (Y/N)’s lips. Sam brushed past them.

“I’m going to grab your crackers and water and meet you in your room, okay?” He placed a gentle hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder.

“Sounds good,” (Y/N) flashed a thumbs-up towards him before Sam walked down the hallway, toward the kitchen.

(Y/N) was a little quicker when they walked through the halls, and he was thankful when they reached his room. He wasted no time parting himself from his brother and making his way over to his bed. Despite his shaky legs, he held himself up well. He turned on the lamp on his nightstand, illuminating the room with a faint yellow glow.

His bed was neatly made with multiple pillows resting at the head - the doctor recommended that he slept elevated for the first week or so and then slept on his back for several months afterward. It would be an adjustment, but (Y/N) knew that he could get used to it.

He climbed into his bed, careful of the collection bags on his chest, and crawled underneath the layers of blankets. Instantly, he relaxed into the plush mattress, head resting on the stack of pillows behind him. Dean waltzed deeper into the room, eyeing him carefully.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Better now that I’m in bed,” (Y/N) looked over at him. “Although it just feels like I’m in another hospital room.”

“At least you won’t be eating any more hospital food,”

(Y/N) grimaced. “Don’t remind me of that, I’ll throw up.”

Sam entered the room, a bottle of water in one hand, the white bag with (Y/N)’s prescription narcotics tucked under his arm, and a small sleeve of saltines in the other. He set the water bottle and saltines down on the bedside table and opened the bag. He took out the orange pill bottle and fished out an oval-shaped white capsule. He handed it to (Y/N), who took it gratefully. He popped the pill into his mouth and drank some water to wash it down.

“You should probably empty those soon,” Sam said, gesturing towards the bags that rested against (Y/N)’s stomach.

(Y/N) glanced down at them and shook his head. “The doctor said every twelve hours should be good. They changed them right before I left the hospital, so they should be fine for right now.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you need anything? TV? Books? Some snacks?”

“I’m good, thanks. I think I’m going to catch some shuteye for a bit. That car ride took all the energy out of me.”

Sam nodded and turned to walk towards the door. “If you need anything, let us know.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

“Seriously,” Dean piped up. “If you need anything, even if it’s small, just holler or shoot us a text.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle. The overprotective nature of his brothers was something that never changed. “I promise I’ll call if I need anything.”

Dean and Sam both gave him a small smile before they turned and left the room, closing the door behind them. (Y/N) marveled in the silence. No nurses walking outside of his room, no snoring from his brothers on the pull-out beds, no heart monitors beeping constantly. It was peaceful. He reached over and turned off the lamp light, flooding the room, once again, with darkness. The darkness was something he missed. He would never take his pitch-black room for granted ever again.

He awoke six hours later, around the time when the medication began to wear off and the pain resurfaced. He had tried to reach over to the nightstand and grab the pill bottle, but his arms were too stiff. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, a grunt falling from his lips. The pain wasn’t as bad as it had been the day after surgery, it was mostly the sore tenderness he felt in his chest and back that bothered him. When his feet touched the floor, he was able to lean over and grab the pill bottle with ease. He uncapped it, took out another capsule, and popped it into his mouth, followed by a drink of water. The medication would start working in twenty minutes or so.

The ache wasn’t only in his chest and back, however. As he downed the water, he felt it fall into his stomach. A gurgle sounded from his gut and he placed a hand over it. He probably shouldn’t have taken the medication on an empty stomach. He needed some food. For a moment, he considered the saltines on the bedside table but quickly tossed out the idea. They didn’t sound as appetizing as they had before he went to sleep, and even then he had only accepted them to make his brother feel better. He wanted some real food. He wanted some of the snack cakes that he got for the occasion. The real question was; could he get up and walk to the kitchen by himself without bothering his brothers? It was still early, so they were most likely asleep. They had been with him the entire time he was in the hospital, and he wanted to make sure that they got the sleep they deserved.

(Y/N) placed his hands on his knees and let in a deep breath, his eyes falling closed for a second. With a quick exhale, he hoisted himself off of the bed. His legs quivered, and he had to reach back towards the bed to steady himself. After he stood for a couple of minutes, the blood seemed to flow back through his legs. They were unsteady, but less than they had been before. He shuffled his way towards his door and opened it, glancing up and down the hallways. He then made his way towards the kitchen. The sound of his stomach growling echoed throughout the corridor.

“Damn, I’m getting you food, calm down,” (Y/N) mumbled to himself.

It took a lot longer for him to get to the kitchen than it had taken to get to his room the night before. He was slow, uncomfortably so, and he hated it. He felt like an old man. At least I’m an old man without tits, he thought.

When he got into the kitchen, he walked over to the pantry shelves and glanced up. Sat on the second highest shelf were the cupcakes that he had been craving. Those delicate, chocolatey, packaged goodies. They were teasing him with the pictures on the front of the box. He wanted one so bad, and he couldn’t even reach them. He could barely lift his arms enough to reach the shelf directly in front of him. He tried to scour the shelf in front of him for something that sounded at least a little bit appetizing, but nothing made his mouth water as much as the soft, chocolate cakes near the top of the pantry.

Curse you, Hostess.

Just as he was about to give up and pick something from a more accessible shelf, the sound of padded footsteps echoed down the hallway. (Y/N) turned his head towards the door as Sam entered. Sam furrowed his brows.

“Hey, what’re you doing up?”

“Oh, the pain medicine wore off, so I took another one. Plus I’m starving,” he then turned his gaze back to the cupcakes.

“Do you want me to make you something for breakfast? I can make scrambled eggs.”

“Sure,” (Y/N) shrugged. “But…I really…want a cupcake.”

“For breakfast?”

(Y/N) looked back at Sam. His bottom lip was pushed out in a small, child-like pout. His eyes were big and his brows were tilted up slightly. It was his own signature puppy-dog eyes. Sam’s puppy-dog eyes were good, but (Y/N)’s was better. Those eyes were the reason behind him getting to pick a place to eat or what movie they watched most of the time.

Sam sighed as he walked over, grabbed the box of cupcakes, and ripped it open. He took out a package and handed it to (Y/N). (Y/N) beamed and ripped the plastic open. He took a big bite of the cupcake and hummed happily.

“Ok, you have your cupcake, but I’m still going to make you some scrambled eggs. You need to have some real food in you.”

“Cupcakes are real food, Samuel. Maybe you’d be happier if you ate one once in a while.”

“And maybe you’d be happier if you ate healthier.”

(Y/N) stuck his tongue out at Sam. Sam rolled his eyes and smirked before he walked over to the fridge. Meanwhile, (Y/N) trudged over to the table and sat down.

“You should probably change your bags soon,” Sam said.

(Y/N) glanced down at the bags and noticed that they were halfway full. He cursed under his breath. “Let me enjoy my cupcake and then I’ll empty them.”

“Do you need help?”

“Nah, I got it, thanks, though.”

Sam smiled and nodded. Without hesitation, (Y/N) shoved the rest of the cupcake in his mouth, a hum of pleasure emitting from his throat. Sam grimaced and turned away. (Y/N) glanced over at him.

“Don’t judge me,” he mumbled with a mouthful of food before he stood up and made his way to the bathroom to drain his bulbs.

Three days had passed, and (Y/N) had already started feeling better. His movement had increased, the pain was starting to diminish, and the fluid that filled the bulbs slowed. His mental health had noticeably improved and every time he looked in the mirror, admiring his newly sculpted chest, the smile would never fail to stick to his face for hours on end. One thing that he didn’t like about the recovery process though, something that stayed a consistent issue, was the lack of personal hygiene.

When his doctor told him that he wouldn’t be able to shower for a while after the procedure, he didn’t think that it would affect him as much as it was. Granted, he still took whore baths, using a damp washcloth and some soap to clean his body off the best that he could, but he could still feel the grime that coated his skin. Specifically, his hair was what bothered him the most. It was wet with grease to the point where it could stand up without any assistance from haircare products. (Y/N) felt disgusting. He needed to get his hair clean, quickly, and he couldn’t do it by himself. If he leaned over too much, the strain on his chest would cause the pain to flair up. He needed help. Sam had been busy researching and assisting other hunters who had called while the brothers were on a break from hunting themselves, so (Y/N) went to the next best person.

(Y/N) knocked on Dean’s door rhythmically. A faint ‘come in’ sounded from inside. He opened the door to see his brother on his bed, lying on his stomach, eyes glued to the television screen in front of him.

“Hey,” Dean said with a smile. “How’re you doing, kiddo?”

“Pretty good. The pain’s not as bad today. I was wondering if you could help me with something, though.”

“Sure,” Dean reached over, grabbed the remote, and turned off the television. He shifted himself so that he was sitting down on the edge of the bed. “What do you need?”

“Can you wash my hair for me?”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to shower yet.”

“I can’t get my chest wet, but I can clean the rest of my body. I’ve been taking whore baths for the past couple of days, but I haven’t been able to get my hair cleaned. Could you help me with that?”

Dean hummed and pursed his lips. “Yeah,” he said as he stood up. “Meet me in the bathroom, I’ll be in there in a bit.”

(Y/N) didn’t wait in the bathroom for long before Dean rounded the corner, a chair dragging behind him. He placed the chair in front of the sink and gestured to it.

“Sit,” he said.

(Y/N) awed. “It’s like a trashy hair salon.”

Dean rolled his eyes and chuckled. He grabbed the shampoo and conditioner from the bathroom cabinet as (Y/N) sat down in the chair. He leaned his head back so that it rested against the cool basin. Dean walked over to the sink and glanced down at his head. He grimaced.

“Damn, kid, you definitely need to wash that hair.” he reached down and touched a lock of his hair, wincing as he pulled his hand back, studying the sheen that the hair left on his fingers. “Ew.”

“Thanks,” (Y/N) deadpanned.

Dean smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you all cleaned up.”

Dean turned on the hot water, the spout shooting out the liquid into the sink. Dean began to run his fingers through (Y/N)’s hair. (Y/N) instinctively closed his eyes. Dean wet his hair, pouring the water over the locks with his cupped hands.

(Y/N) could remember the last time he went to the hair salon. He was young, around the age of six, and Bobby had taken him to get his hair done. Even though Bobby seemed uncomfortable the entire time he was there, he wanted to make sure that (Y/N) had a somewhat normal childhood experience. (Y/N) was ecstatic, and enjoyed every minute of the haircut. His favorite part, however, was when the stylist was washing his hair. It was something about the way her fingers caressed his scalp, massaging the product into the roots of his hair, that brought an overwhelming sense of bliss. Dean’s fingers weren’t as gentle and soft as the stylist’s, but he sure knew how to give a good head massage.

Two fingers gently tapped against the side of (Y/N)’s head. He opened his eyes and looked up at his brother. He hummed in acknowledgment.

“I said ‘Do you like it’?” Dean repeated, a smirk curled into the corner of his lips.

(Y/N) slowly nodded. The suds dripped down from the side of his head and caressed the outside of his ear. “Feels nice. You should have gone to cosmetology school.”

Dean laughed. “I meant your chest. How do you…feel now?”

“Oh,” (Y/N) let out a short laugh. “Honestly, I feel great. I don’t have to bind anymore, which means I won’t have to worry about hunts and catching my breath. I no longer have to worry about if clothes will fit me because of my chest. I don’t look in the mirror and hate what I see…” his voice trailed. “I look in the mirror and I see me. The me that I was supposed to be.”

The two of them were silent for a while as Dean poured water over his hair, washing out the soap. His fingers caressed the back of (Y/N)’s scalp, watching intensely as the conditioner ran down the drain.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, Sammy and I always saw you as our little brother. I mean, you never really did all that girly crap - makeup, playing with dolls, stuff like that. You were always interested in playing with the mud. The amount of times that you would get in trouble with Bobby because you would bring mudpies into his house, or whenever you would track mud inside when it was raining. He got so pissed,” he chuckled, and (Y/N) joined him.

“But then you got older,” he continued. “And it started to seem like you weren’t really my brother. But…something wasn’t right. I knew something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Calling you my sister felt wrong. I started calling you my little brother again whenever I told people about you, and then it felt right. When you told us you were transgender, it all made sense to me. It clicked. You never really were my little sister. You were my little brother, just with a few extra parts. Now that you got your surgery, I can see just how happy you are. How comfortable you are, and that means more to me than anything else.”

The conditioner was gone. (Y/N)’s freshly washed hair laid against the basin. Dean reached over to the cabinet and grabbed out a small hand towel. He ruffled the towel against (Y/N)’s damp hair, making sure to get all of the water off of the side of his face and his ears. When his face was dry, he helped him sit up.

“And me seeing you like this, I have never felt more proud of you,” Dean concluded.

(Y/N) glanced up at Dean, brows raised. His wet hair dripped onto his naked shoulder. “Really?” He asked in a quiet voice.

Dean smiled softly. “Yeah. I’m proud that you told Sam and me how you felt. I’m proud that you got the courage to go through with the surgery, and,” Dean knelt in front of the chair. “I’m proud to call you my baby brother.”

A lump had formed in (Y/N)’s throat. His eyes glimmered with tears that pooled in their corners. Without saying anything, (Y/N) reached forward and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling him into a loose embrace. Dean placed his hands on (Y/N)’s back and smiled into the hug.

“I owe you and Sam so much,” (Y/N) spoke softly. “You guys take such good care of me.”

“You don’t owe us anything. That’s just what big brothers are supposed to do.”

“Not even if I bake you a pie?”

“Now, if you decide to bake a pie, I won’t turn it down,” Dean pulled away and held his hands up.

(Y/N) sniffled and wiped the tears away. “I should make Sammy one of those fancy salads he likes.”

“Oh, he’ll go crazy for that,” Dean mumbled. “Him and his damn rabbit food.”

“You go crazy for pie, though.”

“Yeah, but pie is good. Actually good.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, causing Dean to chuckle. Dean stood up and brushed his jeans off, stretching his arms above his head.

“What do you say we get Sammy and go watch a movie?” Dean asked.

(Y/N) smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Great! You go get Sammy and I’ll get the snacks.”

Dean turned and jogged out of the room. (Y/N) stood and tilted his neck from side to side, noting the small strain in his muscles. (Y/N) grabbed the back of the chair he had been sitting in, but stopped as he saw himself in the reflection of the small mirror. His eyes scraped over his body, from his head down to his exposed hips. He shifted so that he could see his torso from the side.

It was almost as if he was in a dream. Like, at any moment, he would blink and wake up in his bed with his breasts still attached to his chest. For years, he had been wanting to get top surgery, but it never seemed like something he was able to achieve. Never in his wildest imagination did he see himself standing in front of a mirror and feeling proud of the body that he stood in. He no longer saw the body of a woman, the man he was trapped inside and desperately attempting to claw his way out. He saw a man, who he truly was, the real (Y/N) Winchester.

And as he stared at his chest, a smile appearing on his lips, the words Dean spoke echoed in his head;

I’m proud to call you my baby brother.

Now, (Y/N) Winchester could confidently say that he was the luckiest man alive.

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pinkiebieberpie · 1 year ago

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Hiya! Hope you're doing good! May I please request going on a flight with Dean and calming him down, just watched episode 4 and he was totally freaking out (it was honestly kind of cute) or maybe just being with Sam and Dean in the events of episode 4 (season 1) whatever you want really :)) Sorry if this is confusing 😭😭

hi!! i hope you have a good day, too 🩵 not gonna lie a needed a moment and i was like 'what the hell happened in s01e04' 😭😭 BUT NOW I REMEMBER AND I LOVE IT!! thank you for the request!!

that's a fact that dean is scared of flying, and he acts like a baby all the time you are at the airport,

"that's why i love my baby so much, she can't fly"

"dean, it's just a plane, not a monster and you are fighting those everyday"

"there is a monster on a plane" sam being usefull as always 😭😭

"planes are worse than monsters" dean being a stubborn baby again,

"do you want me to hold your hand?" y/n whispered with a gentle smile, doing anything they could to help him,

dean is never scared, but when he is? he's somehow the cutest human alive 🥺

he wanted y/n to hold his hand but only if sam wouldn't know about that,

what a silly little baby!!

supernatural masterlist

#supernatural #dean winchester #jensen ackles #dean winchester fic #dean winchester ff #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester au #dean winchester angst #dean winchester spn #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x male!reader

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 2 years ago

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Spider Infestation

Pairings: Dean Winchester x teen!reader (brief mention of Sam)

Imagine: being scared of spiders is not fun, especially not when they appear out of nowhere

Warnings: spiders, fluff, a bit angst? (Idk really), not proofread

A/N this is brought to you by the big spider on my wall that appeared out of nowhere scaring me to death (no for real my family literally ran to my room thinking I died or something)

Secondly this is short so sorry about that I guess but I had to write something to bring me comfort so this is what came from that, anyway enjoy. (I’m not actually scared of spider I just think they are disgusting, but I do however get scared when a spider appears out of nowhere when I turned back a second later)

A scream left your lips as soon as you saw the spider on the wall beside your head. You’d just been minding your own business as you readied yourself for bed, turned away for one second and when you turned back the scream left your throat before you could stop yourself.

You made a half sprint from your place by the bed, away towards the other side of the room while your eyes were still glued to the spider. You looked on in horror as the huge spider was about to crawl away. It’s big long hairy legs making invisible prints all over your wall.

Dean (followed by Sam) who’d heard the scream ran into your room gun in hand thinking it was a threat. He swung open your door, wide open and scanned the room for any kind of danger. Instead his eyes locked onto your scared form in the corner of the room. He lowered his gun and walked over to you slowly so as to not startle you.

“What’s going on?” His eyes looked at you in concern and when you didn’t answer he followed your eyesight and saw you were just staring at an empty spot on your wall. He’d think you’d seen a ghost had it not been for the fact that you weren’t the slightest bit scared of them.

“Hey kid, what’s going on” he slightly waved his hand in front of you to get you to look at him but it didn’t seem to work, he saw tears glistening in your eyes and got even more worried.

Slowly but surely you shook out of your fearful state and answered Dean's question with one word. “Spider”

The older hunter couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as his face went into some kind of relief, and a small smile plastered itself on his lips. Thankful you hadn’t seen an actual ghost or something else that’d want to kill you, (though in your mind the spider was definitely out there to kill you).

Walking out of the room you stayed outside, Sam having long gone to sleep as he told Dean to deal with it with a tired yawn. Dean who as told to deal with the spider went and got some paper before he walked into your room to find the spider. When he found it he walked over to you with the spider and you whimpered away in fear and the grin that was plastered on his face as he brought the spider closer to you was quickly wiped of his face and he went to flush it down the toilet when you stopped him.

“No, don’t kill it!” Dean couldn’t help but to chuckle once more. For being so afraid of something you still seemed to not want to kill them. So instead he went over to the door and let the spider out.

When he came back once more he found you staring at yet two other spiders and he went through the procedure once more. Not long after that he went to his bedroom once more to get some sleep.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you later in your bed. You couldn’t sleep still thinking there were more spiders in the room. What if they were to crawl up in your bed and infest your blanket or start crawling over you. No you couldn’t be in your room for the night so you quietly went over to Dean’s room and knocked gently on the door. Hearing Dean’s voice grumble a tired come in, you opened the door and went inside.

“Hey”

“What do you want?”

“Can I maybe sleep in here with you?” Dean’s head lifted up from the pillow and he looked at you with tired eyes.

“Why?”

“I’m scared, what if there were more spiders or-“ you were cut off by Dean shuffling to the side of his bed and opening up the covers for you to get inside. Walking over to the bed you carefully laid next to him and he laid the blanket over you while also inviting you into a hug. You cuddled close to him and took in the comfort he offered. You were sure no spider would get you know.

#x reader #x teen #x teen!reader #x you #supernatural #supernatural x teen #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x teen!reader #dean winchester x you #spn x teen!reader #Dean Winchester x teen #Dean Winchester x gn!reader #dean winchester x female!reader #Dean Winchester x male!reader

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wildgirllz · 2 years ago

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hi hello!!! i hope you're having a good day today! <3

i hope this isn't too specific, but can i request a dean winchester x male reader where they were childhood bEsT friends (they had the biggest crushes on each other but they could never admit it), but reader ran away from home when he was a teen and never got the chance to say goodbye to dean, and now dean and reader accidentally run into each other years later after they're both adults and on a case, and they have a mixed feeling reuinion because dean is OVERJOYED to see reader again, but also he is upset that reader never told dean where he was going, or even said goodbye? tysm <3

Ofc!! Here you go <3

Runaway

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Angst, but a happy ending :)

It was just another day on the job for Dean Winchester, the hunter with the rugged good looks and the devil-may-care attitude. He had been hunting monsters with his brother, Sam, for years now, and while the work was dangerous, it was the only life he knew. He was good at it, and he liked the thrill of the hunt.

As he walked through the crowded city street, Dean felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in years, not since he was a teenager. He glanced around, trying to figure out what was causing the sensation, and then he saw him.

(Y/n).

Dean's childhood best friend. They had grown up together, spending countless hours exploring the woods and getting into all sorts of trouble. They had been inseparable, until (Y/n) had disappeared one day, without a word.

Dean had never been able to forget (Y/n). They had had a crush on each other when they were teenagers, but they had never been able to admit it. And now, here he was, standing in the middle of the street, looking just as handsome as ever.

Dean walked up to him, feeling a mix of emotions. He was overjoyed to see (Y/n) again, but at the same time, he was upset that (Y/n) had disappeared without a word.

"(Y/n)?" Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

(Y/n) turned around, and when he saw Dean, his face lit up with a smile. "Dean!" he said, his voice filled with surprise and delight.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, lost in memories of their childhood. Then, Dean spoke again. "Where the hell have you been, man? You disappeared without a word."

(Y/n)'s smile faded slightly, and he looked down at the ground. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just leave like that. I just... I had to get away, you know? Things were tough at home, and I needed to figure some things out."

Dean frowned. "What kind of things?"

(Y/n) shrugged. "Just... stuff. Family stuff. I don't really want to talk about it."

Dean nodded, understanding that some things were best left unsaid. "Well, it's good to see you again," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "What are you doing here?"

(Y/n) hesitated for a moment, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to answer. "I'm a hunter," he finally said. "I've been working on my own for a few years now."

Dean raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Really? You're a hunter?"

(Y/n) nodded. "Yeah. It's not easy, but I like it. It's... it's kind of like being a superhero, you know? Saving people, hunting things. It's a rush."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I've been doing it for years."

They chatted for a few more minutes, catching up on old times and exchanging stories about their hunting experiences. Dean was glad to see that (Y/n) was doing well, but at the same time, he couldn't help feeling a twinge of hurt that (Y/n) had never reached out to him.

After a while, they parted ways, with (Y/n) promising to keep in touch. Dean watched him go, feeling a mix of emotions. He was happy to have seen (Y/n) again, but at the same time, he was hurt that (Y/n) had never told him where he was going, or even said goodbye.

As Dean walked back to his hotel, his thoughts were consumed by (Y/n). He couldn't believe that after all these years, they had run into each other again. It was like fate had brought them back together.

But at the same time, he couldn't help feeling angry and hurt. He had spent years wondering what had happened to (Y/n), worrying about him, and missing him. And (Y/n) had just disappeared without a word.

When he got back to the hotel, Sam could tell something was bothering him. "What's wrong, Dean?" he asked.

Dean sighed heavily. "I ran into (Y/n) today," he said.

Sam's eyes widened. "Really? How is he?"

"He's... he's good," Dean said, still lost in thought. "He's a hunter now, apparently. He's been on his own for a while."

Sam looked at him quizzically. "And that's a bad thing?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. It's just... it's weird, you know? We were best friends, and then he just disappeared without a word. And now he's a hunter, and I had no idea."

Sam nodded sympathetically. "I can see why that would bother you," he said. "But hey, at least you got to see him again. Maybe you can reconnect."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right. Like he's just going to waltz back into my life like nothing happened."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe he will. Or maybe he won't. But either way, you should try to make peace with it. Life's too short to hold grudges."

Dean nodded, knowing his brother was right. But it was easier said than done.

The next few days were a blur of hunting and killing, and Dean didn't have much time to think about (Y/n). But he couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed between them. They had been such close friends as kids, and now they were practically strangers.

It wasn't until they finished the hunt and were packing up to leave that (Y/n) showed up again. He was standing outside the hotel, looking nervous.

"Hey," he said, his eyes darting around nervously. "Can we talk?"

Dean hesitated, unsure. "I don't know if there's anything left to say," he said finally.

(Y/n) looked at him pleadingly. "Please, Dean. I need to explain."

Dean sighed heavily. "Fine," he said. "Let's talk."

They walked to a nearby park and sat down on a bench. (Y/n) took a deep breath and started talking.

"I know I disappeared without a word," he said. "And I'm sorry. But you have to understand, things were really bad at home. My parents were fighting all the time, and my brother was getting into trouble. I didn't know what to do, so I just... I ran away."

Dean listened, his anger slowly melting away. He could hear the pain and desperation in (Y/n)'s voice, and he knew that he had been through a lot.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," (Y/n) continued. "But I was scared, and I didn't know what else to do. And then, after a while, I was too ashamed to come back. I didn't know how to face you.”

Dean nodded, understanding. "I get it," he said. "But you could have at least told me you were leaving. I spent years wondering what had happened to you, worrying about you. And you didn't even say goodbye."

(Y/n) looked down at his feet. "I know,"

There was a moment of silence between them, and Dean couldn't help but feel conflicted. On one hand, he was glad to finally have some closure and hear (Y/n)'s side of the story. On the other hand, he was still hurt that (Y/n) had left without a word.

"I'm sorry," (Y/n) said softly. "I should have told you. I should have said goodbye."

Dean took a deep breath and looked over at his old friend. He could see the sincerity in (Y/n)'s eyes and knew that he meant what he said.

"It's okay," Dean finally said. "I forgive you."

(Y/n) looked up at him, relief flooding his face. "Thank you," he said.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before (Y/n) spoke up again. "I missed you," he said softly. "A lot."

Dean felt his heart skip a beat at the words. He had missed (Y/n) too, more than he had ever let himself admit. They had been each other's confidants, each other's first crushes. But things had changed, and they had both gone down different paths.

"I missed you too," Dean finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

There was a moment of silence between them before (Y/n) spoke up again. "I know we can't go back to how things were," he said. "But... maybe we could try to be friends again?"

Dean thought about it for a moment before nodding. "Yeah," he said. "I'd like that."

(Y/n) smiled, and they sat in comfortable silence for a while longer. Dean couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over him as he sat there with his old friend.

As they got up to leave, (Y/n) turned to him. "Hey, Dean?" he said.

"Yeah?" Dean asked.

"Thank you for forgiving me," (Y/n) said. "It means a lot."

Dean smiled at him. "Of course," he said. "We were always meant to find each other again."

(Y/n) smiled back at him, and they walked back to the hotel together. It wasn't a perfect reunion, but it was a start. Dean knew that there was still a lot of healing to be done, but he was willing to try. He had missed (Y/n) too much to let him go again.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester au #dean winchester smut #dean x reader #Dean Winchester x male!reader #Dean Winchester x m!reader #dean winchester x male reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #dean winchester angst

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deansfleshlight · 2 years ago

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okay so hi i just wanna put this out here. i joined the fandom mid 2022 and fell in love with dean. i dont really ship him w anyone in canon but i do love some destiel fanfics, i read a lot of em. tho i read dean x reader fics more. i dunno why i wrote this anyway but uhh well i need some help. i actually kinda prefer dean topping when im reading destiel fics or a dean x omc fics because i personally think that him bottoming is a little out of character, which is fine if u disagree ig its just me i dunno. well idk but i think ive ran out of bottom!cas x top!dean fics to read on ao3 so im asking for help. i already got a lot of hate from twitter because of this preference but umm well be kind pls im so bad at this😭

#dean winchester #castiel #deanncastiel #deancas #dean and cas #dean winchester x male!reader #dean x reader #top!dean #bottom!cas #bottom cas #top dean #top dean winchester #bottom castiel #fanfics #fanfiction recommendation #supernatural #spn fanfic #spn

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certifiablyseth · 2 years ago

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SOO ADORABLEE

intertwined

Pairing → Dean Winchester x GN!Reader (no pronouns mentioned)

Summary → You got hurt on a hunt and Dean is angry at himself. You just want him to get some sleep, so you drag him back to bed after some gentle convincing.

Warnings → Fluff? Teeny weeny bit of angst if you squint enough-

A/N → I literally have just been waiting to watch the full episode of spn but I freaking saw a gif of Sam and his old man wig and was like NOPE-

I can’t do it! I literally cannot bring myself to watch the last few episodes, I have basically learned how this ends through tumblr and I’m scared :,))

Notes → Nothing lol

Word Count → 867

Requested → No

This was the millionth time you’d turned over in bed. Yet again, finding the opposite side of it, empty. You knew he’d be beating himself up somewhere else in the bunker.

No matter what you tried he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself, at least not anytime soon.

Yet, deciding you didn’t want to try and fall asleep again without Dean by your side, and deciding that he also needed sleep (though he’d deny it). You rose from the bed and stood, carefully placing most of your weight on your right leg.

You limped your way outside of Dean’s room, hand along the walls for a bit of extra support.

Keep reading

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x gn!reader #dean winchester x male!reader #dean winchester x gn reader #dean winchester x male reader #spn x reader #supernatural x male reader #male reader #supernatural x reader #dean winchester

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hhoneylemon · 17 days ago

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𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

headcanons

Love Languages

acts of service

he’s the one post that’s like my love language is acts of service but all i know to do is kill

he will murder anything that hurts you. he is very protective but it’s cause he loves you, ‘kay?

does little things; picks you up your favorite snacks and drinks when he gets supplies, always makes sure there’s enough coffee for you.

he’ll bother making sure the impala always has a blanket or one of his jackets for you. he likes making sure you’re comfortable!

physical touch

please please please cradle his face it brings him so much comfort. he melts into it and gives you these big sad eyes and all you can do is kiss his forehead or just utter a ‘i love you’ or ‘you’re so pretty’

likes to just lay with you. he’ll take naps while you research, head plopped in your lap and body splayed across the bed. maybe instead he’ll rest his head on your shoulder and throw an arm around your torso. you get the point.

sometimes boots sam into the backseat so that he can have his passenger prince(ss). hand holding yours or holding your thigh, his mood automatically better than when you’re in the backseat.

words of affirmation

now, he himself does not convey his thoughts and feelings into words often. something something toxic masculinity.

he does, however, seriously appreciate when you tell him how you feel.

he’s a puddle in your hands as you remind him that you love him and that he’s so good to you and that he’s soo handsome. he’s looking at you with puppy eyes and his lips look so soft it’s not your fault if you give him a little kiss.

Dates

drives in the impala. he’ll drop sam off back at the motel or at a bar or restaurant and will just drive around with you. holding your hand, his music playing through the car. whenever you stop at a red light, he turns to you and gives you a soft look and sings a line of the song to you.

crappy diners. there are millions in the us, you make a list of your favorites just for fun. it’s just eating food and talking while doing so, it’s so simple yet so rejuvenating. he loves doing this with you, escaping his life for the hour you spend together.

watching tv or movies from the motel tv. cuddled in bed, he’s wearing his sleep shirt and a pair of boxers, arms around you and head on your shoulder. you could be watching anything from children's cartoons to horror films, he doesn’t mind as long as you’re in his arms.

coffee shops. on an off day, you two can actually sit in a coffee shop rather than grabbing a coffee and running off to investigate people. feet touching under the table, sipping coffees while people watching outside. he tells you that you two could’ve still been in bed, hearts replacing his pupils.

lying in bed talking. this technically doesn’t count as a ‘date’, but i’m putting it here; he’s wrapped you in his arms and is resting his head on your chest. speaking in whispers so that you don’t wake up sam, you’re pouring your hearts out to each other. you could also he arguing about whether or not a hot dog is a sandwich or not, the conversations are endless.

concerts. it was said the brothers would catch a few on their off days, so why can’t you two? he looks to see which artists you both like are touring and where, then just takes you out of the blue. never tells you so that he can see the surprise and then the excitement. he sings along loudly and terribly, but he holds you close and sways you and kisses your temple, so you don’t mind.

Kisses

he loves kissing you. he loves your skin against his lips. he loves you <3

unsurprisingly his favorite is kissing your lips. melting into you while sitting, making out with you in the car, small kisses to wake you up. he doesn’t appreciate pecks. if you give him one he’s chasing you and giving you a proper kiss.

his absolute favorite kinds of kisses are the ones where you’re both desperate for each other. teeth clinking, lips melding and breathing heavy as you break apart, noses bumping together if you lean in too quickly. it reminds him you want him just as badly as he wants you.

kisses your forehead after he comes back from a hunt, then hugs you. he just needs a moment to ground himself, and then he’s kissing the top of your head and sighing into your hair.

cheek kisses are greetings and goodbyes. you bring him coffee in the morning while he’s talking to sam, he gives you a cheek kiss and a small ‘hello’. he’s about to leave to pick up food for everyone, he kisses your cheek after getting your order. the only time they aren’t hello’s/goodbye’s are when he’s leaving and coming back from a hunt. then it’s a loving kiss to the lips, slow and meaningful.

something he likes, kisses to the knuckles. they have freckles on them, like his nose, so of course you have to show them love. you press a kiss to each, then in between. then, of course, are the knuckles on his fingers. then the back of his hand. makes him so giddy, he’s smiling and blushing and gazing at you like you’re the whole world.

he would also love the one trend. i’m sure he’d love you kissing his bicep while wearing lip gloss/lipstick of some sort. a. it makes him feel strong and b. it makes him feel loved <3

Random

if anything bad happens to you ever he’s so so sad and it’s automatically his fault and his duty to make it up to you. kisses your cheeks and holds you to his chest and cradles your head and he’s mumbling about how he’ll make it all better.

gets so flustered if you press the right buttons. if you can respond to his flirting with a witty response or a better line he’s blushing and looking at you with awe. he’s fallen for you at least three times already.

he’s a mean fighter. gets defensive, yells and gets angry. if he gets mad enough he’ll throw or punch something. after his initial burst he takes one look in your eyes and feels a wave of terror and he’s mumbling apologies and trying to breathe calmly. he’s got tears pooled in his eyes when you hug him and forgive him. he’s never wants to upset you.

he’s still a kid at heart. when sam’s out at the library or getting food or spending the night elsewhere, the two of you settle into the motel bed. cuddled together, dean’s head on your chest as he watches the tv. some cartoon is playing, maybe it’s scooby doo, maybe it’s gummi bears, maybe it’s ducktales. please humor him, it makes him feel so warm and cared for.

has made you multiple mixtapes. one is his favorite songs, one is songs that remind him of you, one is songs that are “written for us”, one is songs he knows you like. blue oyster cult, led zeppelin, van halen, aerosmith commonly adorn them. the thought is sweet and the fact that songs are rarely put on multiple tapes is lovely.

his favorite photo he’s taken on his phone is of you sitting on the impala’s hood. “it’s my two babies in one, c’mon”

please let him small spoon. it means everything to him to be able to trust you with being vulnerable like that. he likes hugging your arms while they’re wrapped around him, he sleeps harder than he ever has in his life. does like to spoon you though. sometimes he just needs to remember you’re real, or he feels like he needs to protect you. holds you close to his chest and curls around you to keep you safe.

following that, i feel like there are some nights he doesn’t want to cuddle. he just needs a moment to himself to recharge and feel better. he’ll lay on one side, arm hanging off the bed. he sleeps well with you just beside him, he can feel your heat trapped in the blankets. sometimes he’ll wake up from a nightmare and just roll over and hold you, sometimes you’ll wake him and he just rolls over to hold you.

honestly a bit of a bully. it’s all lovingly, but there are times he calls you stupid or another softer insult. he is kind of a jerk so he’ll say something to rub you the wrong way and when he notices you seem put off, he’ll think over what he said and frown and apologize. he doesn’t mean to come off that way, he’s so sorry :( please forgive him with all the little smooches he’s giving you.

#sorry he’s a wet eyed pathetic guard dog in my eyes #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #spn x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester headcanons #gn reader #fem reader #male reader

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boypied · 25 days ago

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STARVING FOR INTIMACY

pairings: dean winchester x male reader

summary: dean helps touch starved reader through his first time, after he picked him up from his work at the diner.

requested by: anonymous

word count: 555

warnings: smut, first time, unprotected sex, breeding.

Dean's eyes dart down towards your backside as you strut across the diner floor. You grip onto your note pad and walk over to Dean's table, making eye contact as you start talking to him. "Hello! I'm Y/N, and I'll be your server today." you say in your happy manufactured waiter voice. While you read out the specials to him, he completely ignores what you've been saying and just admires your body and your face. He gently nibbles his bottom lip, "how old are you?" He interrupts you pulling you out of your bored trance. "I'm eighteen" you say to the very attractive customer.

Dean's eyes lighten up with hunger when he hears what you say, he leans back against the padding of the booth chair. "Are you a virgin?" He asks in a soft yet seductive voice pulling you into a trance, you slowly nod your hear "yes.." You mumble out in a quiet voice. "Are you going to order or not cause I need to get to other tables" you say to Dean, he stares at you for a moment until you turn to walk away until he grips your arm. "Come with me" he whispers in your ear as he pulls you out of the diner and towards his car, yet you don't feel scared or panicked...you feel a sense of safety.

It's not long until you're in the back of his car with your shorts thrown in the front seat and Dean's cock in your tight virgin ass. The way his fingers traced along your back sent shivers down it as your body contorted with pleasure as inch by inch his cock buried itself inside your hole. No condom, completely raw, with a random customer from the diner. This wasn't like you at all...but he was perfection. Dean grips onto your hips and begins to piston fuck you back and forth making the car rock and anyone who walks past will immediately know what's going on in there.

His hand darts round to cup your mouth, keeping your quiet as he pumps back and forth. It doesn't take long for him to spill his load inside your asshole. It was supposed to be a quickie anyway, but it was the perfect first time, "short but sweet." You mumble out to Dean, causing him to roll his eyes after he cums so suddenly. "Still aren't satisfied.. fine" he mumbles out as he begins to piston fuck you still, feeling his cum slosh around inside your hole as he pumps himself inside you over and over again.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt him hit your g-spot over and over and over until your body and cock couldn't take it anymore and you free-handedly shot cum out of your tip and all over his leather seats. Your body becomes limp against the cool seats as Dean breaths heavily slowly pulling his semi-hard cock out of your asshole, he chuckles to himself. "Fuck...been a while since I fucked a virgin. You're my favourite, " he says softly as he gently pecks your cheek as he climbs over into the front seat, and he begins driving to a more secluded area. Where you both can rest up. Dean climbed back into the back seat, and you both couldn't keep your hands off each other.

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godjustkys · 29 days ago

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THEME: it's just hate sex with dean..

CHARACTER: male reader x dean winchester

NOTE: as promised, dean winchester one shot. also!! requests are open.

WARNING: breeding kink,, clothed sex,, dirty talk,, degradation,, slight dacryphilia,, hair pulling,, short and not proof-read :(

“..hhhfuck—” dean breathed out lowly, grasping onto the table's edge for dear life. his back was arched slightly, forehead pressed against the wooden surface itself.

dean was bent over a table, and you were fucking him from behind. your hands holding his hips firmly, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. sure, it was stable, but it wasn't fast enough for dean. he wanted you to be rougher. “Don't be a bitch, dean.” you cooed gently, pushing one hand up dean's spine, the action more sensual than anything. “let me hear you.” in response, the other just gritted his teeth, letting out a small frustrated groan. how could he let this happen? he hated you, he hated every single bone of your body.

“you- fuck like a virgin.” dean mumbled out, his tone bitter. “this your first time? you experimenting, huh?” he quipped, lifting his head up and turning it to the side, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. You let out an amused scoff in response, suddenly pushing your hips forward, the action harsh and quick. it made dean stumble, knees buckling for a moment, his grip on the edge tightening. he turned his head away immediately clenching his jaw.

“don't try to taunt me, dean. you're the one taking my cock like a damn slut right now. i can feel you clenching around me,” you spoke, leaning forward, your chest just above his back. “shh-shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch—” dean responded with a strained voice, his face twitching in annoyance. or maybe from the fact that he was holding back so many sounds. he pretended like he didn't like what you said, but god, he only got harder. his abdomen tensed too. fuck. “listen to yourself right now..” you muttered, your lips right next to his ear. “the little gasps? yeah, you love this,” your tone took a more confident edge.

dean hadn't even realized that he was gasping, letting out soft breaths that soon evolved to pants. “Mmhhm—” he let out an agitated groan that turned into a humourless chuckle. “you- keep telling yourself that-” he choked out. “oh, I don't need to. you think I would've been able to get you into this position if you didn't want it? aren't you a big, strong hunter?” you teased, moving one hand to the back of his neck. soon enough, you gripped his hair, pulling his head back. “so, tell me,” you urged him, pressing a kiss to his throat. “tell me how much you want this. how much you want my cock, how good you feel right now.”

dean kept quiet, his breathing laboured and heavy. his eyes fluttered shut as you continued kissing his throat, eyebrows stitched together. “go to hell.” he spoke as he tried to squirm out of your grip. “no, no dean,” you pressed gentle kisses against his skin again, making your way from his throat to the nape of his neck, letting go of his messy hair. “not what i asked for,” the moment you said the word 'asked' you thrusted in deeper, as if enunciating your point, making dean squirm even more. “but I'll let it slide.” you breathed out, eyes boring into the back of his head.

“shhh..shit. fuck fuck fuck-” dean groaned out, his eyes screwed shut. “you're a bastard-” he said before letting out a mewl, of all things. you let out a small chuckle, letting your pace increase - you couldn't torture dean for long, you were starting to feel bad with all his jittery squirming. “mhm? what else?” you inquired softly, so innocently, as if you weren't pounding him from the back. dean could take this, of course he could. But then, both of your hands moved back to dean's hips, grip firm, as you pulled him against you. essentially, making his ass meet your pelvis.

“hhn!” he gritted out, his fingers curling up around the edge of the table. “d- don't you manhandle me.” he protested weakly, his thighs tensing and hips stuttering. “that's not manhandling, dean. d'you want me to, though?” you asked gently, keeping your pace steady. of course, no response from the man under you. he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't curious as to what manhandling felt like, but he didn't have it in him to ask for that. let alone from you, someone he loathed. he's chastising himself for even letting this happen. his pride - wounded.

as dean continued his silent treatment of sorts, you decided for him. why the fuck not? gotta have some fun in a way, right? you pulled out, only momentarily, as you flipped dean over to his back with ease, earning a small, barely even audible yelp from the hunter. you pushed your way back in with slight resistance, dean's abdomen tensing as you did, his hands scrambling to grasp at something. well shit, his hands couldn't reach the table's edge anymore. and reaching for the edge above him would be uncomfortable. you noted his actions, realising immediately that he didn't want to touch you.

“damn, not even gonna put your hands on me?” you asked with a slightly offended tone, shifting on your feet to find a better, more comfortable angle. “c'mon..” you groaned out, one hand gripping dean's still clothed thigh, the other moving up to grip his jaw. “you want to, right? fuck your ego, dean. just do it.” you urged, your face so close to his. his vision was slightly unfocused, his toes curling just a bit. the thought was so tempting. his mind was starting to get lost in the pleasure you were providing, his skin tingling under your touch. “ain't happening.” he managed weakly, his face a.. a scowl? seriously?

“what a bitch,” you muttered in disbelief. “i've already got you where I wanted to, what's the point of giving me attitude, hm?” you pressed, the sound of your (unbuckled) belt buckle getting progressively louder due to your thrusts getting deeper. the slick sound of your cock going in and out of dean's hole progressing in volume, too. dean almost bit his tongue while trying to contain his noises. he wasn't going to give it to you. “baby, you've gotta be more compliant than that..” you cooed gently, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips that dean didn't return. he wanted to. fuck you were so hot. soft groans escaped his throat, his lips pressed to a thin line as his hands gripped at literally nothing.

“how 'bout we make a deal, hm?” you suggested suddenly, your thrusts slowing down but not stopping. that grabbed dean's interest. “you stop holding back.. and I won't mention this, ever again.” he shot you a skeptical look. you? not talking about this? what a joke. “i promise.” you added, your tone almost pleading. “i just gotta know how good I make you feel. that's enough for me.” you breathed out, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin of his thigh. “i'll kill you- if- if you don't keep that stupid promise.” dean threatened, albeit with a shaky voice. he was far too easy to deal with.

finally, after what seemed an eternity, one of dean's hands found their way to your shoulder, the other reaching to hold onto your waist - or more so your shirt. due to his newfound compliance, you could give it your all without him trying to hold back. you pushed your cock all the way in, because you hadn't yet. safe to say that the man you were currently fucking the living daylight out of didn't know you weren't bottoming out. “Ah!- motherfuckerrrr-- mmhh—” he whimpered out in a broken voice, his hand moving from your shoulder to the side of your neck. his face was scrunched up, eyes shut tightly.

what heavenly sounds. you let a smile creep up onto your face as you kissed him, passionately, this time dean reciprocating the kiss even if he was a bit late. he let out deep grunts every time you thrusted in, your mouth just devouring the damned sounds. you didn't waste a second, pushing your tongue into his mouth and swirling it against his. dean's breath stuttered, almost feeling overwhelmed, his thighs aching beyond belief. when you pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath, dean spoke up. “are you fucking trying to suck out my soul?” he seethed, panting heavily.

“somethin' like that, yeah.” you breathed out, your eyes locked onto his neck as your hand that was on his jaw just ran over his torso. eventually, it ended up at the hem of his shirt. you simply pushed the shirt up to his collarbone, dean's facial expression shifting to a more confused one. the moment your mouth landed on his nipple, he forced himself to hold in a girlish shriek. he wasn't used to his nipples being played with. both of the latter's hands gripped at your hair, in an attempt to ground himself but also pull you away if needed. “wh- what the fuck, man?” dean got out, his voice strained, maybe a pitch higher.

the sensation of you sucking on his nipple and pounding into him ruthlessly made him let out continuous moans, his voice breaking more with each other. eventually, he let out a sob, his fingers tightening in your hair, the stinging pain making you groan against dean's skin. you could feel his thighs trembling against your pelvis. you didn't stop though, as dean made no protest. but what you took notice of was his whiny moan of your name. it made your gaze shift to his face. god, it made you wish you had a camera just to take a photo and hang it on your wall. his eyes welled up with tears, just barely, his mouth agape, drool on the corners of his lips, all pretty, just for you. you trailed up kisses from his chest to his face, the action more gentle than you anticipated but oh well. “fuck, you're such a slut.” you mumbled against his cheek, your eyes closed as you got lost on the bliss that were dean's sounds, his hopeless squirming and trembling. “takin' me so well, like you were made for this.” you continued. “were you?” you inquired, your tone too sweet compared to your words.

a fucking whimper was what you got in response, his hips shamelessly rocking against yours, as if seeking friction. he wasn't getting enough? “you tryna get off, huh?” you leaned back up, gazing down at him. “ugh, I wanna breed you.” you rasped out, too lost in your own fantasies. “just imagine it, me filling you up, to the brim. with my cum. mine.” dean's face contorted an almost concerned facial expression. the worst thing was was that he didn't even hate what you said, he wasn't against it. he might've actually liked it. he pulled you down as his hands remained in your hair, still, his mouth latching onto your neck as he sucked hickeys onto your skin. you hummed out a sound in response, twitching inside dean. he only continued making sounds against your skin. he seemed desperate to have some sense of control.

dean kept his head buried into your shoulder, as the numerous and various moans, whines and whimpers escaped his lips. he was trying so hard to catch his breath, his thighs tensing around your waist. “who knew such a deep voiced hunter would make such girlish moans?” you teased mindlessly, your only focus now to just breed the fuck outta him. it was at this point that dean didn't even bother responding, frantically holding you close, his hands trembling. oh god you were too much. not that he'd admit that. the more you continued thrusting into him, the more he cried out. yes, cried. sure, tears weren't rolling down his face, but they were there, you knew they were. you could recognise it, the way his voice got high pitched and so eager.

eventually, the overwhelming heat that was pooling in your lower stomach was getting even stronger, and you were close. not even warning dean, you gave harsh thrusts, the other's body twitching helplessly in response as he gasped. you came inside with a groan, your hands holding dean's waist so severel that it might've even left bruises. dean let out a sharp hiss before it turned into a mewl, once again, and he couldn't help but get even more turned on by the liquid that was inside of him. he came, untouched, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as his blunt nails dug into your shirt. he was sweating, his head lowered.

“this ain't 'nough.” you mumbled weakly, starting to move again. goddamn it, dean was in for a night.

#male reader #fanfic #fanfiction #top male reader #dom male reader #one shot #dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean Winchester x male reader #smut #spn smut

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l1tw1ck · 10 months ago

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dean winchester consumes my mind LAWDDD I beg for anything with that man, surviving off of scraps looking for more top male reader x dean 🤕

- 🛸

No Longer a Mentor

Sub!Bottom Dean Winchester x Top!Male Reader

☆ Word Count: 1,512 ☆

After spending his young adult years with you, his mentor, more than his father, Dean found himself falling for you. He eventually made a move and forever changed the dynamic of your relationship

🕯️: well luckily for u, i just finished this draft :3

CW: Age Gap, First Time Bottoming, Blowjob, Fingering, Frottage (Sort Of), Creampie

Dean’s known you for a couple years, you're a friend of his dad’s and a fellow hunter. You became his mentor in place of his father, who often hunted on his own and left Dean in your care. You liked to stay in your state since the area was basically a supernatural magnet while his father preferred to travel the country so he chose you to finally allow Dean to stay in one place for more than a week. If you were anybody else, Dean would've been annoyed that his dad didn't take him along despite his age and experience. Instead of going to college, Dean spent those years learning to hunt with his father and mostly you. Thanks to all the time you spend with each other, his allegiance to you is almost stronger than his allegiance to his father. He hangs on your every word and treats you like a god. It's thanks to you that he finally accepted his bisexuality. But he doesn't want to tell you that.

He first started feeling differently towards you when you started to become more physical with him. You often hold onto his shoulder with your strong hand or pull him out of the way by his waist and it drives him crazy. He so desperately wants to feel your hands on other parts of his body and vice versa. Your voice makes him weak in the knees and you sound especially attractive when you've found your prey. You're much older than him but he can't get rid of his feelings for you. He tries his best to be content with just having a crush.

After you two had dinner, you decided to drink with him. The two of you laughed and talked over a few cans of beer and deepened your relationship further.

“You ever been in a relationship, [Name]?” Dean asks, slightly tipsy.

“A few. I mostly slept around in my college years and experimented a bit with other hunters but in the end I decided to marry my job instead.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to marry someone I could tell everything to so I tried dating within my circle but none of the hunters seemed to click with me in the ways that really matter.”

“That makes sense…then you probably haven't…” He trails off.

“I probably haven't what?”

“Had sex…lately……”

You laugh. “No, I haven't. Honestly, I think getting laid would really help me. It's been a rough couple weeks.”

“I…” Dean gulps. “I could help with that….if you don't mind…….being with a guy..”

You look at him in surprise. “You're drunk.”

“I’ve only had two cans and a half…You know I don't get drunk that fast.”

You look at him differently, no longer with the eyes of a mentor. “You’ll bottom?”

Dean nods.

You smile in amusement. “I might be a little rough, can you handle that?”

He nods again, more enthusiastically this time.

“Come here.” You motion for him to come over to your side of the table. He stands in front of you. “Kneel.” You order. Dean immediately kneels, his cock steadily growing in size. You unbuckle your belt and pull down your underwear. Dean stares at your cock in awe, body heating up as he watches you jerk it to its true size.

“Fuck. You’re big.” He breathes out.

“Too big?”

“I can handle it.” He says, licking his lips.

“Attaboy.” You run your hands through his hair. Dean blushes. “Ever done this before?”

“Never..” His eyes are trained on your length.

“Is this your first time with a man?”

“Yeah…”

Your gaze changes. Dean shivers in arousal. “How long have you wanted this?”

“A long time…I’ve been…fingering myself, in case we….” He looks away.

You grin, turned on by the thought of that. “You'll have to show me that some day.”

Dean’s face gets redder.

“Now, let me see how you suck cock.”

He's so hard right now. He opens his mouth and slowly swallows your length. He makes a dragged out moan in pleasure as he feels your thickness enter him. Pre cum leaks out of his cock as he imagines how it’ll feel in his ass. He bobs his head up and down enthusiastically, mimicking his past girlfriends by simultaneously swirling his tongue around your shaft.

“Fuck–” You moan. “That's it– good boy.”

Words can't express how happy Dean gets when you praise him.

“You're better at this than I expected, baby.” You smile at his cuteness. He can't hide how pleased he is. “You like sucking dick, don't you? I never thought you’d be a cock slut, Dean.”

He moans. He’ll happily be your cock slut. He pulls away and licks your length in a very sexy way, gaining more confidence thanks to his elevated horniess. “I love your cock, sir.”

“Of course, you’re my cock slut.” You press your hand against his cheek. “Stand up and take your clothes off, I wanna use your other hole.”

Dean’s cock throbs even more. He stands up and quickly removes his clothes, shivering under your hungry and lustful gaze. You pat your lap and he quickly sits on top of you, your shafts pressed against each other.

You grope his ass. “I don’t have any lube..” You trail off, mesmerized by his soft butt.

“I already fingered myself earlier.” He smiles.

“Good boy.” You praise him. “Then spit’ll be enough. Say ‘ah’.” You bring two fingers into Dean’s mouth. He sucks on your fingers in the sluttiest way he can before you take them out and gently push one of your saliva covered fingers inside his soft hole. You give him a moment before adding the second, then you start to finger him.

Dean lets out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard. “[Name]~” He arches his back and subconsciously thrusts his hips, his cock rubbing against yours. “Your- yours feel so- fuck~” He groans. “So much better!”

You moan as well thanks to the sudden friction. You bring him into a sloppy kiss, the temperature between the two of you steadily rising. Dean pulls away first, more desperate for air, and presses his forehead against your shoulder. “Don't stop– mm- gonna come~” He whimpers. Your fingers find his prostate, an immediate gasp of pleasure leaving Dean’s lips. He throws his head back. “There! Yes!” He moans, grinding against your cock even faster. The combination of his moans, his expression, and his cock against yours all contribute to bringing you to closer your orgasm.

Dean comes first, cum splattering over the two of you. Yours comes second thanks to the amazing look on Dean’s face.

“You're so fucking sexy, Dean, you know that?” You take your fingers out and knead his ass.

“I know.” He gives you a kiss. “I want you inside me.”

You lift Dean up and slowly lower him down on your cock. You both let out noises of pleasure as you penetrate him. He bites down on his lip, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his ass stretching to accommodate your girth. Once you bottom out, you give him time to get used to it. “Your cunt feels fucking amazing.” You groan. It's hard to hold yourself back but thankfully for you, Dean has no intention of waiting any longer. He places his hands on your shoulders and starts riding you. He quickly loses his momentum as the pleasure begins to overwhelm him. You help him out by grabbing his waist and doing the work for him, allowing Dean to fully enjoy himself.

He knew anal sex would feel good, especially because it's anal sex with you, but he never really had an idea of how good it’d feel until now. Now he's completely blissed out and only able to moan like a slut. It's especially thanks to your quick and rough speed that he's unable to think properly. You couldn't get yourself to go slower even if you tried. His ass just feels way too good.

“Your ass is perfect, Dean–” You groan. “So fucking good-” You hold him and stand up then gently place him on the table after clearing it of the empty cans. You rut into him like a monster, so horny that you feel like you could fuck him all night. You can never get enough of him.

Dean arches his back and shakes as ropes of cum spurt out of his dick. You know you should stop, or at least slow down, but you can't. “‘M sorry baby, fuck–” You moan, hanging your head low as you find your orgasm approaching. “‘M gonna come inside, okay? Gonna fill up your tight fucking cunt with my seed–”

Dean’s conscious enough to understand you. “Ye- yes!” He grins. He's been wanting to know what it feels like to get creampied. “Co- come inside!”

Encouraged by his words, you spill your cum into his warm and welcoming hole. Your thrusts come to a stop and the two of you start to catch your breaths.

“That…was so fucking good.” Dean says, leaning back.

#wicks🕯works #top male reader #male reader #dean winchester x male reader #bottom dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x male reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #bottom male character

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eepwtf · 2 months ago

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HALLOWEEN BOTS ´ཀ`

note: happy halloween!! and oh yeah!! more halloween bots , some of these are inspired by songs some by my brain. i hope you guys like these, i was going to add more but i got lazy 😞, might add more ( i say while knowing i wont )

𓉸 　　　╰ ﹒ kai parker ␥ hallows eve ノ

kai certainly went all out for halloween, decorating the house, and to top it off, he’d given in to your idea of matching costumes. he'd groaned, rolled his eyes, even muttered under his breath when you first suggested it, but somehow here he was, suited up to match. but when it came to candy, there was no compromise. he’d stacked bowls of it on the kitchen counter—no cheap stuff, either. all his favorites, an indulgent stash that he had no plans of sharing with the hordes of trick-or-treaters who might dare to knock. and of course, he dragged you along to sit on the couch and indulge into the horror movie marathon with him.

𓉸 　　　╰ ﹒ kai parker ␥ inside phone calls ノ

phone calls? sure, you’re all for those. phone calls from a smooth-talking stranger, especially late at night? even better. but phone calls from someone who’s also a killer—someone lurking in your house, who’s got a knife with your name on it? that’s where things start to get a little more complicated. but hey, he has a nice voice and you’re oh, so lonely from what kai can tell. and you have a nice body, god, these small blinds from your closet don’t really do justice for what he’s witnessing, but hey, he’ll take a free show of you stripping down anytime.

𓉸 　　　╰ ﹒ klaus mikaelson ␥ perversion 99 ノ

klaus wouldn’t dare call it perverse, not when you were dressed like that. it made sense now, the appeal of halloween, the thrill that had you buzzing with excitement over what he called a silly tradition. but now he was starting to understand. with you wrapped up in this dangerously enticing costume, it was impossible to think straight. the fabric clung to you in all the right places, practically begging for his eyes to linger, his hands to wander. he resisted at first, simply admiring the sight before him, the playful glint in your eyes that dared him to try. but klaus had never been one for restraint. finally, he made his move, fingers inching toward the edge of your costume, ready to pull it from your body like he’d been aching to do since the moment he laid eyes on you. but before he could make any real progress, you somehow managed to get it back up throwing him a half annoyed half amused look.

𓉸 　　　╰ ﹒ elijah mikaelson ␥ halloween cooking mess ノ

if elijah knew better—which he does—he’d think the house had been ambushed by a mischievous child on a halloween sugar rush. the evidence was everywhere, from flour dusting the countertops like a ghostly fog to sprinkles scattered like confetti on the floor. smears of chocolate and icing trailed across the counters, smeared together in abstract, sugary artwork. eijah could hardly tell if they were supposed to be cookies or some strange, deformed creatures. maybe ghosts? or perhaps a very experimental version of pumpkins? but there was something hauntingly charming about the way you'd gone about it. each cookie looked unique, each one a slightly different shape, as if you'd tried to craft them into adorable little halloween creatures but got sidetracked halfway through.

𓉸 　　　╰ ﹒ elijah mikaelson ␥ corpse bride ノ

you looked like you—the same person elijah had married. the familiar silver band on your finger testified to that, grounding him in the reality that you were, in fact, standing before him. but somehow, you were not you. there was an emptiness in your gaze, a hollowed, distant glint that robbed your eyes of their former light. a subtle, unsettling scent clung to you, something acrid and faintly metallic, laced with an unmistakable trace of decay. yet, you held onto him with an intensity that bordered on desperation. it was as though your fractured mind could recall only him—a beacon in the fog of your shattered recollections.

𓉸 　　　╰ ﹒ dean winchester ␥ mx sinister ノ

halloween parties weren’t his thing—too much noise, too many people—but this one came with a purpose. somewhere inside was a demon, feeding off the energy of the oblivious crowd. at least he could enjoy some things, like the candy—and the costumes, or lack thereof. he could easily get used to this part of the job. he even let a smirk creep onto his face when he saw a woman pass by in a devil costume that was more suggestive than sinister. it was easy to let his mind wander, just for a second. then, you appeared out of the crowd. dean’s gaze fixed on you, and his entire focus shifted. you wore a costume that was… well, maybe ‘costume’ wasn’t the right word. it was as much about what you weren’t wearing, as what you were. maybe the demon would just have to wait for a while, at least until he could charm that costume off you.

𓉸 　　　╰ ﹒ dean winchester ␥ teenage neceophillian love ノ

dead and okay, maybe somewhat hot? not deans type, at least that’s what he told himself. but when it came to you… well, those thoughts made it difficult. watching you bloody with sharp fangs, he should’ve just killed you, like countless others. yet, he stood there, cleaning up your mess, wiping the crimson off your mouth. the rational part of him, buried under the weight of his desire, reminded him that he was supposed to be the hunter here. he was supposed to kill creatures like you—mercilessly, without hesitation. and yet, here he was, staring at you like he was under some spell, some inexplicable fascination that kept him tethered to this moment, unable—or unwilling—to break free.

𓉸 　　　╰ ﹒ sam winchester ␥ 13 jack o’ lanterns ノ

sam knew, from the moment he saw halloween decorations creeping out of every corner, that there was no escape. you’d gone all-out this year, like a fiend possessed by the halloween spirit, turning your home into a spooky paradise. every inch of the house was draped in something ghostly or ghoulish. he had to admit, it was… impressive, in a way only you could pull off. now, here he was, seated with a carving knife in hand, elbows-deep in pumpkin guts, his own attempt looking a little… well, wonky.

𓉸 　　　╰ ﹒ tom hanniger ␥ from your windowsill ノ

it started off small, like most crushes do, tom thought it was normal. watching you from afar, taking in how you seemed so blissfully unaware of the green eyes following your every move. but small things have a habit of growing when you let them fester, and suddenly being too far away from you was not enough, now being able to see you this close—well, as close as he can from your windowsill of course. he was content, if only for a moment.

𓉸 　　　　　╰ ﹒ stiles stilinski ␥ claws and fangs ノ

vampires and werewolves don’t mix. it’s practically written into the dna of supernatural lore, and stiles finds himself agreeing with every ancient text about it. because—god—you reek. normally, he wouldn’t tolerate your presence, not in a million years, but here he is. side by side with you, wedged into the garish, pulsing chaos of a halloween party that’s far more “over the top” than he would have ever chosen for himself. stiles finds the whole scene obnoxious, crowded with fake vampires and cheap costumes. maybe he hated the idea of vampires and werewolves mixing. maybe your scent was like nails on a chalkboard to him. but here he was, next to you, the one part of the party he was more willing to tolerate than he’d ever admit.

𓉸 　　　　　　╰ ﹒ stiles stilinski ␥ the dead don’t rise ノ

it was a simple law of nature—one everyone knew and respected. the dead were supposed to stay dead, unmoving, silent, absent from the world of the living. but apparently, those assumptions didn’t apply to you. not that stiles was complaining, in fact he was utterly captivated by you. teaching you how to function again, it was amusing, how you would just stare and groan trying to mimic him.

𓉸 　　　　　　　　╰ ﹒ jennifer check ␥ pale skin , sharp fangs ノ

you were absolutely her favorite, jennifer had come to realize. once she noticed how similar you two were, sure, there was some differences between the two of you. one being well, she was a succubus and you were a vampire. and once the two of you got hungry? that was where the magic began. her gaze would fixate on the moment your fangs descended, gleaming dangerously as you closed in on your prey. you were intoxicating, an unholy vision with blood smeared against your lips, that crimson stain slipping down your chin like some twisted homage to the life you took. and fuck, did she want it to be her. she fantasized about the rough scrape of your fangs against her skin, the pinpoint sharpness pressing just beneath her pulse.

𓉸 　　　　　　　　╰ ﹒ billy and stu ␥ smile pretty f’me ノ

billy and stu were always up to something, a pair of wolves with an eye for danger—and an even sharper eye for you. it wasn't that you were naive; you were aware, acutely so. you knew what they wanted every time their eyes raked you, and well… you knew how to put on a show. that’s what made it fun. halloween night brought it to a head. the boys, true to their dramatic flair, arrived with a surprise. bringing vhs camera along to record them having fun with you, it was all harmless after all. you just happen to be their star for tonight, and all they wanted was for you to smile pretty for them.

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supernaturalscribe67 · 1 year ago

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The Secrets We (Don't) Keep

Words: 7,314

POV: 1st & 3rd Person

Pairing: Dean/Sam Winchester x Brother!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, Fluff, Mention of John Winchester, Mention of Childhood Abuse, Awkward Moments

Summary: After finding out that his brothers, Sam and Dean, read the first entry of his journal, the reader decides to take a rather creative approach to his payback.

Request:

i’d love to see you continue with that winchester brother reader! or something similar? your writing is very comfortable to read :)

@stklett

@xdark-acadamiax - (Tagged because I saw how much you loved this idea!)

A/N: I really hope you guys enjoy this next part! I can honestly admit some parts make me laugh so I hope they make you guys laugh as well! Feedback is greatly appreciated!!!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

OCTOBER 2014

I don’t know why I thought I was going to be able to keep this journal private. I guess my expectations were too high. How dare I assume that Sam and Dean would respect my privacy? Of course, they wouldn’t. How dare I presume that hiding this thing between my mattress and boxspring would be a good idea? I mean, who in their right mind would hide something there? Everyone looks between their brother’s boxspring and mattress!

Silly me.

But, since I found out my brothers decided to read through my first entry (and ultimately vandalize my journal), I have done some brainstorming. Brainstorming ways that I can get back at them. I've considered the classic pranks to start with; itching powder in their underwear, hair dye in their shampoo, Nair in their body wash, or even putting laxatives in their coffee. All of these pranks have been used by all three of us multiple times. Even with some thinking, I’m still unable to come up with a prank that I feel would be good enough to teach them a lesson.

So, I’ve come up with the next best thing.

In this entry, I’m going to be writing down some of Sam and Dean’s embarrassing moments.

Throughout our decades of life, all three of us have had our fair share of shameful moments, but the instances that I am thinking of are ones that I like to bring up from time to time. Each time I mention them, I get an eye roll from Dean and one of Sam’s classic bitch faces. It’s always so satisfying to get that kind of reaction from them.

It would only be fitting to see what kind of reaction I get when they eventually read this entry.

JUNE 1989

Everyone has their fears. Some people’s fears are more valid than others. Sam has a fear of clowns, I have a fear of needles, and Dean has a fear of planes. I can understand Sam’s fear of clowns - Plucky Pennywhistle's always made me uneasy when I was a kid - and, as far as my fear of needles, have you seen some of the needles that doctors use on patients? They’re HUGE! No thanks.

What a lot of people don’t know about my older brother, however, is that he didn’t just suddenly have a fear of planes. He didn’t wake up one morning and discover that he didn’t like flying. Sam’s fear of clowns developed from our times at Plucky Pennywhistle’s, my fear of needles stemmed from an unprofessional doctor (who shouldn’t practice medicine anymore, in my opinion) from my second round of childhood vaccinations, and Dean’s fear of flying…well…

Dean used to be afraid of heights.

I say ‘used’ to be because, if he still has that fear, he does a really good job at hiding it. We’ve gone to some pretty high places on our hunts, and, from what I noticed, it never seemed to bother him. He could always be masking it well enough, which is possibly the case. Then again, he could have learned to deal with the fear and forget about it completely. Lucky him.

But, when Dean was younger, that was one thing that he was never good at doing - masking his emotions - especially when the three of us were by ourselves. When it was just us three, Dean felt like he could express how he truly felt about anything and we would keep it just between us. It was a little 'brother code' that we had going. Whatever was said between us was kept between us. Kind of like Vegas, in a way.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

I’ve always wanted to visit Vegas.

Stay on topic, (Y/N).

For most of our young childhood, we spent half the time traveling with our father, and the other half at Bobby’s. I always loved going to Bobby’s house. It felt like a home. To me, it was always my home growing up, even if I wasn’t there all the time. Even though we stopped going there as often when we got older, it was still the place that I would technically consider my home. We had the most fun there. We felt like we could be kids for once. Like we didn’t need to worry about the things that went bump in the night anymore.

I loved Bobby’s house.

We were there during summer vacation, which was somewhat of a common occurrence when we were younger. Sam, Dean, and I always found things to do while we were there, and playing throughout the maze of cars in Bobby’s junkyard wasn’t unusual. Normally, we would play hide-and-seek, tag, have races, or some stupid war games that we would come up with.

That day, however, we discovered a new stack of cars, about six cars high in total, that we had not previously known about near the far backside of the property. We would have usually stayed towards the front, but, that day, we decided to roam around. Dean had the expert idea to see who could climb the highest. Sammy went first, climbing on top of the first car with some help before he got nervous and backed down. I managed to make it up three cars before I decided that I had enough and came back down. Dean, on the other hand, took the challenge a little too seriously. He didn’t waste any time reaching the car that sat on top of the pile. He was so proud of himself.

It all went downhill after that…

“Ha! I beat you both!” Dean exclaimed as he stood on top of the roof of the car, fists balled up and placed onto his hips in a mock Superman pose. “I’m the King of the Cars!”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Sam pouted as he looked up at Dean, his bottom lip pushed out.

“I wanna get up there,” he said, letting out a small whine.

“You tried to get up there, Sammy, but you said it was too high.” (Y/N) explained, looking down at him.

Sam hung his head as he kicked a pebble on the ground. Dean still stood on top of the car, waving his arms around. He let out quiet, faint shouts as if mimicking a cheering crowd. Sam pursed his lips ever so slightly.

"I wanna play hide-and-go-seek."

"It's ‘hide-and-seek’, Sammy." (Y/N) deadpanned.

"That's what I said."

"Do you wanna play with just you and me?"

"No," Sam shook his head and glanced up at his oldest brother, who was still cheering for himself. "I want De to play."

(Y/N) gave a short nod before he turned to his older brother as well. He reached up and cupped his hands to the side of his lips. "Hey, idiot! Sammy and I wanna play hide-and-seek! Get down here so we can go play!" He called up to Dean.

"You guys are just jealous because I could climb up to the top!"

“No one’s jealous of you, Dean! We just want to play! Come on!” (Y/N) let out a groan as he placed his hands on his sides.

Dean scoffed and waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He mumbled as he walked closer to the edge of the car.

As Dean gazed down at the ground below, he froze. His eyes went wide and his legs and arms tensed. The confident smile that he had once had on his face was now gone, replaced by an uneasy frown. (Y/N) and Sam’s eyes were on him, watching him intently, waiting. After a minute or so of Dean standing there, not moving, (Y/N) shook his head and cupped his hands around his mouth again.

“What are you doing?” He called out.

(Y/N)’s voice caused Dean to jump and turn his gaze towards him. He opened his mouth, attempting to speak.

“I-I can’t get down,” Dean said with a shaky tone.

“What do you mean you ‘can’t get down’?”

“I can’t get down! I-It’s too high!”

“You were the one that wanted to get up there!”

“I know I was, will you just shut up!” Dean’s voice came out cracked and high-pitched.

(Y/N) closed his mouth and stood there, watching as Dean struggled to get down on his knees. As he attempted to move his leg down towards the trunk of the car, he felt the car shift. (Y/N) and Sam jumped when they heard the metal scrape against the car below. Dean let out a yelp and pulled his leg back. His fists were clenched onto nothing, knuckles a ghostly white color. His face was noticeably red and tears began to form in his eyes.

“G-Go get Bobby!” Dean called down.

“You can get down, Dean! You’ll be okay!”

“No! I’m not okay!” Dean let out a sob. “It’s too high! The car’s going to fall. Go get Bobby,” Dean’s voice was as shaky as his hands were.

(Y/N) looked down at Sam. “Go get Bobby, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes were wide with worry as he nodded slightly. He turned and made a mad dash towards the house. “Bobby! Bobby!” He cried out.

(Y/N) then turned his attention back to Dean, who seemed like he was seconds away from having a breakdown.

“Dean! You’re going to be okay! Just come down the same way you went up.”

“N-No!” Dean shook his head rapidly.

“Quit being a baby!”

“I’m not a baby!”

“Then why are you crying like one!?”

“Will you shut up!?”

(Y/N) stopped talking and let out a huff. Not even a minute later, Sam came running out towards them, Bobby quickly behind him. Bobby ran his fingers through his hair stressfully.

“What the Hell have you idjits done?”

It took thirty minutes of coaxing for Dean to be able to climb down two of the cars before Bobby had to make his way towards him and carry him down the rest of the way. Needless to say, Dean wasn’t in the mood to play any type of game with us after that, especially when I began to tease him mercilessly about his crying. I still tease him to this day about it, comparing him to a cat that had been stuck in a tree. Bobby was known as ‘Firefighter Bobby’ for a good month-and-a-half after that.

We were forbidden from climbing on the cars anymore, which none of us seemed to have a problem with. As for my teasing, I had managed to get in trouble with Bobby once he caught me and was forced to help him organize the study while Sam and Dean went out to play. It wasn’t very fun, at the time, but I had learned a lot more about hunting during that punishment, so some good came out of it.

To this day, Dean still likes to pretend as if it never happened. Or, if it did happen, then it was either Sam or me that needed to be rescued. Not him. He never needed to be rescued (according to him). Still, Sam and I can remember this vividly. It’s two against one, Dean.

So much for ‘King of the Cars’.

OCTOBER 1989

Sam was always gullible when he was a kid. He grew out of it in his early teens and became more aware of how deceitful people could be. Before that, however, he was fun to mess with. I’m his big brother, I have a right to mess with him.

I still do, but it’s not as easy.

Sam was the type to believe anything that anyone wanted to tell him. Even if it was the most outlandish thing possible. I was able to convince him that unicorns were real and that everyone got one when they turned ten. When he asked Bobby what kind of unicorn he had gotten for his tenth birthday, Bobby told him the truth right then and there. He was so disappointed that he didn’t talk to me for about a week. I felt bad, at least a little bit. But the other part of me thought it was the funniest thing I had ever done to him at the time.

That was when he was four.

I still ask him what he wants his unicorn to look like.

He hasn’t given me a straight answer yet.

Around the age of six, Sam had started to let his hair grow out. Granted, everyone’s hair was growing out at that point - my father had neglected to get us any type of haircut for a little over six months - but out of all of ours, Sam’s was the longest. Dean had started calling him ‘Samantha’ at some point, which irritated Sam to no end. I decided to take a different approach, however.

Back then, we knew about monsters. We knew about the different kinds of monsters that our father fought but didn’t know a lot about them. We knew their names, what they looked like, and common signs for each of them. One thing we didn’t know about certain monsters was how people were turned into them.

So, with this limited knowledge in the back of my head, one dreary fall night, while our father was away on a hunt and Dean was out finding us some food, I decided to play a little…prank, if you will, on Sammy.

Sam’s eyes were glued to the television screen. A rerun of Alf played that he was completely enamored with. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s eyes were attached to something other than the show. He watched as Sam brushed his long locks out of his face occasionally. Sam tucked some hair behind his ear, but it didn’t stay there long before it fell in his face. His hair was down to his chin by then and (Y/N) had to admit that he was more irritated about the length than Sam was.

When the show moved to a commercial break, Sam clenched his eyes shut and stretched his arms over his head. He glanced over at (Y/N) and furrowed his brows.

“What’re you looking at?”

“That hair,” (Y/N) gestured to the top of his head.

Sam frowned. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“It’s long…too long,” (Y/N) narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He reached over and gently grabbed a piece of Sam’s hair before letting it go, allowing the strand to fall against Sam’s chubby cheek.

“Dad said he was going to get it cut soon.”

“Yeah, I know, but…it’s not like mine and Dean’s hair. It’s so much longer. It’s kind of like…” (Y/N) pursed his lips as he studied the top of his head. “Werewolf hair. Maybe you’re turning into a werewolf.”

Sam’s eyes slowly widened as he sat up straight and shifted uneasily in his seat. “I-I’m not turning into a werewolf.”

“I don’t know, it sure seems like it.”

Sam reached up and hesitantly ran his fingers through his hair. “How…how would I know if I’m turning into a werewolf?”

“What? You don’t know the signs?”

Sam shook his head. (Y/N) scoffed.

“Come on, Sammy! You have to know the classic signs!” (Y/N) exclaimed as he leaned forward, a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips. “The long hair, the way your fingernails curve, the hair between your eyebrows, and your sharp teeth.”

Sam brought his hands up to his face, his fingers roaming around his features. Quickly, he got off the couch and ran towards the motel bathroom, shoving the door open so hard that it bounced off the wall. (Y/N) followed after his brother. He watched as Sam studied himself in the mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushed a single finger down his nose, studied the curvature of his fingernails, and bared his teeth. His eyes widened as soon as they landed on his sharp canines. Sam frowned and pushed his bottom lip out. It began to wobble as tears appeared in the corner of his eyes. He turned to (Y/N).

“I-I don’t want to be a werewolf!” He whimpered.

(Y/N) leaned against the doorframe and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, Sammy. It looks like you can’t help it.”

“B-But,” Sam turned and looked at himself in the mirror for a second before turning back to his brother. “But what if hunters come after me?”

“Hey!” (Y/N) shook his head as he walked closer to Sam. He placed both of his hands on his shoulders, bending down so that he was at eye level with his little brother. “That is something you never have to worry about. Dean, Dad, and I will protect you.”

Tears streaked down his red cheeks and he nodded. “Do you think Dad and De know?”

(Y/N) sighed and pursed his lips, moving his hands off of Sam so that he could place them on his hips. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. They haven’t said anything about it, yet. But, I think you should tell them. That way, they will be able to protect you.”

“I-I don’t wanna tell them.”

“Why not?”

“What if they don’t like me anymore because I’m a werewolf?”

(Y/N) shook his head and gave a comforting smile. “Sammy, they’re always going to love you, werewolf or not.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Sam glanced down at the ground, his shoulders slumped. (Y/N) could see how much the news had upset his brother. He didn’t want him to be in hysterics by the time Dean got back, so he thought of the next best thing to try and cheer him up.

“You know, a lot of people think that werewolves are the bad guys,” he began. “But you could be the first-ever werewolf hunter! You could be the one werewolf that protects humans from bad things! Kind of like a…uh…a werewolf superhero!”

Sam looked up at him and raised his brows, cocking his head to the side. “A werewolf superhero?”

“Yeah!”

“Like a…a werewolf Batman?” A smile slowly appeared on Sam’s lips.

“Just like a werewolf Batman.”

The worry quickly left Sam’s face as he looked at himself in the mirror. He studied his face once more. “Maybe being a werewolf isn’t so bad,” he shrugged. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

“Anytime, Sammy,”

Sam turned and wrapped his arms tightly around (Y/N) in a bone-crushing embrace. “I love you.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face. Whether it was from the sentimental words or the devious nature behind them, he wasn’t sure. He wrapped his arms around Sam as well, pulling him close.

“I love you, too, Sammy.”

For six months, six whole months, Sam kept the little secret quiet. He would mention it to me from time to time. Ask me questions about lycanthropy in general or question me about whether or not I thought Dean and our Dad knew about it. I would always comfort him, tell him that I didn’t think they knew anything, and we would go about our day-to-day lives.

Eventually, it got to a point where I was hounding him to tell Dean and Dad about it. Sam was hesitant at first. He was scared about how they would react. I was able to talk him through it, though, and, one night, he sat all of us down so he could tell us.

The look on Dean and Dad’s faces?

Pure confusion.

And I thought it was the funniest thing at the time.

I had to hold back my laughter as I watched my father deal with Sam and explain that he couldn't be a werewolf if he had not been bitten by one. Sam was in hysterics at that point. He was crying and sobbing and while our father was trying his best to comfort him, I was trying my best to keep it together. At that moment, I patted myself on the back for the longest-lasting prank.

The celebration didn’t last long. When Sam told our father that I was the one who told him about it, he was furious. I swear, I saw his eyes turn red. I won’t go into too many details about my punishment, but it was one of the worst ones that I got. Even now, I don’t think that it was what I deserved. But it happened, and I can’t necessarily change it.

I couldn’t sit down for a week.

The punishment didn’t stop me from teasing Sam about it, but it was quick to make me stop when Sam told me he was going to tell Dad. Now that Dad’s dead, Sam doesn’t have anyone to tattle to. I can say whatever I want.

Cut that damn hair, Sammy. You look like a werewolf.

JANUARY 2010

We always had some type of celebration for our birthdays. When we got older, that is. Not all of them necessarily had a cake and presents, but they were celebrations nonetheless whether we acknowledged it or not. Whenever Dean has a birthday, his favorite place to go is at any local bar that we were closest to at the time. Sam and I would switch back and forth on who would be the designated driver so that the other one could celebrate properly with Dean. On Dean’s 31st birthday, I was the designated driver.

And, man, was I glad I was.

We were in Colorado after just finishing a hunt. It was a smaller bar near the far northeast corner of the state. It was a little busy, given it was a Sunday, but most of the clientele seemed to consist of regulars who would come in after their nine-to-five. I honestly couldn’t tell you what the theme of the bar was. The decoration scattered on the walls was a mix of historical pieces from the town we were in, rock 'n roll memorabilia, and different pieces from various Colorado sports teams.

Dean was plastered, and Sam wasn’t too far behind him. It had been a while since I saw the two of them get that drunk, but we were under a lot of stress at the time. I was jealous that I wasn’t the one who was able to get drunk enough to forget, but I figured I would make up for it later.

The bar began to shut down around one in the morning. The bartender had shouted for 'last call' half an hour before. I knew that I had to get Sam and Dean back to the motel before we got kicked out. It wasn’t that hard to find Sam, he had refused to leave his seat at the table the entire night. Trying to find Dean, on the other hand, reminded me of reading those ‘Where’s Waldo?’ books in the school library when I was younger.

Let me tell you when I did find him…

Oh boy.

(Y/N) sighed as he ran a hand down his face. His eyes drooped and he felt as if his body weighed a thousand pounds. After scouring the entire bar to find his brother for the past thirty minutes, he concluded that he deserved a bed for himself when they got back to the motel. Sam and Dean could share a bed, or sleep on the floor. He didn’t care. He just wanted to get back and go to sleep.

(Y/N) walked back up to the table that the three brothers had shared. Sam sat in his seat, back slouched over, his head laid on the wooden surface. His mop of hair was brushed carelessly over his face. (Y/N) placed a hand on his back, leaning close to him.

“Sammy,” he said, his voice low. Sam visibly jumped as he looked up at him with tired, glazed eyes. “Have you seen Dean?”

“Um…” Sam trailed, voice slurred, and pursed his lips. “Dean…Dean…” Before he could continue, Sam broke into a weak fit of laughter, his shoulders shaking. “Dean sounds a lot like ‘bean’. He looks like a bean because he’s short.”

(Y/N) pressed his lips together and patted Sam’s back. “He sure does, buddy. Thanks for the help.” He spoke sarcastically.

He stood up straight and turned around, his back now facing Sam. He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked around the almost empty bar. There were still a couple of regulars scattered around here and there, but most of them were clearing out. No sign of Dean, though. (Y/N) had to wonder how his brother could get lost in such a small place, but Dean had managed to do the impossible. Again.

In front of him, (Y/N) could see the bartender from earlier. She had walked around the small U-shaped bar and was making her way towards him. Before she could get closer, (Y/N) shook his head. He held his hands up slightly.

“I know you made 'last call' a while ago, and I’m sorry for staying, ma’am. I’m just trying to find my idiot brother.” He said with an apologetic tone.

“Well, that was actually why I was coming over here.” She said and placed her hands on her hips. “There’s some guy in the back and I was wondering if he belonged to you.”

(Y/N)’s shoulders slouched as he let out a sigh. “I am so sorry. I’ll pay for anything he broke or stole.”

“No, he didn’t break or steal anything. He’s doing…something else.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as an uneasy feeling began to make its way to his stomach. “What is he doing?”

She gestured back towards the bar. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

Hesitantly, he gave a nod and followed the bartender. She took him around the bar and to the back. Past the saloon-style swinging doors, a couple of feet into the supply room, (Y/N) came face to face with a sight he would never be able to forget.

Dean leaned against one of the many metal shelves. Even with something to lean on, his body swayed back and forth, indicating just how intoxicated he was. A goofy grin was present on his red face. One hand was balled into a fist and placed on his hip while the other one hung casually off of the shelf he leaned on. Beside him stood a mannequin, clad in an aged Colorado Rockies uniform paired with a baseball cap featuring the same team’s logo. (Y/N)’s jaw dropped.

Dean was flirting with a mannequin.

The bartender smirked. “He’s been back here for the last hour. I was going to kick him out, but I listened to how sweet he was being to Manny and I felt bad for him, so I just let him stay.” She nodded and leaned against the door, propping it open.

“Manny?” (Y/N) questioned, not taking his eyes off of his brother.

“Yeah. Manny the Mannequin. It’s this damn mannequin that the owner bought for twenty bucks when the local Sears closed down. He needed to put his stupid baseball outfit somewhere and he thought the best thing to do would be to put it on Manny and leave it in a bar. The regulars weren’t too nice to Manny, so we had to put him in the back here. It seems like your brother somehow snuck past me and found him.”

“I…I am so sorry about this.” (Y/N) gestured to his brother, who had begun to fiddle with the hem of the Rockies shirt.

The bartender snorted. “Trust me, this isn’t the worst thing a customer has done to poor Manny. Just get him out of here.”

“Yes, ma’am. Right away,” (Y/N) mumbled.

He stepped into the room just as the bartender turned and walked out. As he got closer, Dean began to giggle.

“You know, you have the prettiest eyes. Has anyone ever told you that? Oh, come on, I bet a lot of people tell you that. They’re like…like, um…” Dean paused and stared down at the ground.

(Y/N) quirked a brow and placed his hands on his hips. When he did, he felt the outline of his phone in his jeans pocket. A smirk made its way onto his face as he took out his phone. He knew that he could use this moment for entertainment purposes later. He began to record his brother as he cleared his throat. Dean jumped and turned to (Y/N), eyes wide.

“Hey, Dean. What’re you doing?” (Y/N) asked cautiously.

A smile broke out on Dean’s face as soon as he recognized his brother’s voice. “Oh! (Y/N), I want you to meet someone,” he slurred as he wrapped an arm around Manny’s shoulders, pulling the mannequin closer to him. “This is Cozy. She’s…she’s the most beautiful woman here and we’re going to get married.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah! Isn’t that right, baby?” Dean giggled as he reached up and poked Manny’s nose. “She’s the love of my life.”

“Well, I am so happy for you, Dean. She looks…beautiful.” (Y/N) was trying his hardest to keep from laughing.

“Thank you.” Dean smiled proudly.

“I think you’ve talked to Cozy enough for one day, though. I think we need to get back to the motel.”

Dean frowned. “But I don’t wanna. I wanna stay with Cozy.”

“I know, buddy,” (Y/N) walked over and placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “But Cozy has to go home, too. You can call her in the morning. Plus, we have pie back at the motel.”

Dean gasped dramatically. “Pie?”

“Yeah, pie,” (Y/N) pulled Dean away from the mannequin and wrapped an arm around his torso.

“Pecan?”

“Yes, Dean, pecan pie.”

“Oh, (Y/N), you know, you’re the best brother a guy could have.” Dean leaned his head against (Y/N)’s shoulder as the two of them stumbled out of the back room and towards their table. Dean let out another gasp as soon as he saw Sam. He patted Sam sloppily on his shoulder. “Sammy! Sammy! I met a girl!”

Sam groaned and lifted his head. He looked between (Y/N) and Dean, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not a girl! That’s your brother, stupid.” Sam grumbled.

(Y/N) sighed and rolled his eyes. “Come on, guys. Let’s get back to the motel before you pass out on me.”

There was no pie back at the motel. I just know that’s one of the only things that could get Dean’s attention.

Thankfully, both of them waited until they were in the car to pass out. I had tried my hardest to wake them up, but they weren’t budging. In the end, they both slept in the backseat of the Impala while lying on top of one another. It seemed like it would be extremely uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t know. I was able to go back into the room and relax in my own bed, in a place that was peaceful and quiet. No snoring, no moving around, nothing. It was some of the best sleep I ever had.

In the morning, when Dean and Sam woke up, they had to ruin my peaceful sleep by knocking on the door. They were a mess, both completely out of it and hungover. The smell of vomit stunk up the room so bad that I swear it’s still there if we were to go back and check. I got them painkillers, got them some water, and made sure they were nice and fed. When we were all sitting down and finally eating, I let them have it.

Oh, the teasing.

So much teasing.

I showed them both the video of Dean flirting with Manny. Dean grumbled and tried to get me to delete the video while Sam was trying his best not to laugh his ass off - he really couldn’t because of how bad his head probably hurt. Throughout our conversation, I swear, whenever I would look over at Dean, I could see his cheeks turn pink. I knew I had the perfect blackmail.

I still have the video.

You know, just in case.

APRIL 2014

Everyone who knows Dean understands just how much of a serial flirt he is. If it breathes and if he finds it attractive, he will flirt with it (the story with Manny should make that pretty obvious). I, on the contrary, know how to flirt, but I don’t do it as often as he does. Sure, I flirt with people now and then to get my fix, but it’s not something that I do every time I go out.

Sam, on the other hand, is the complete opposite of Dean.

Sam was always the type to be awkward around people he found attractive, even when he was a kid. The number of times I would see him in the hallways of schools trying to talk to girls was hilarious, but he carried that awkwardness into adulthood. I admit, a couple of years ago, that boy had some moves. He knew all the right things to say and do to make anyone swoon for him. I was sort of jealous of him, and I could tell that Dean was proud of him, in a way.

However, with how much has been going on the past couple of years, I’ve noticed that Sam has gotten a little rusty when it comes to flirting. There has been more than one occasion where he received a pretty nasty glare or a drink to the face followed by some rather colorful language. At first, I felt bad for him, but then it started getting funny. As he kept trying, the conversations he would have with people would last longer and longer than the last time. It still took him a while to leave with anyone, but baby steps. Baby steps.

There was one time earlier this year when I thought he was going to get a happy ending. It was going so well! I had to admit that I had been spying on him throughout his interaction, just out of sheer curiosity. We were celebrating after a hunt in Arizona. Nothing too big, just a basic salt and burn with a basic bar afterward. It was Saturday and the bar seemed like it was packed. We were lucky to find a table. Thankfully we did because my feet had ached that night from all the digging.

While I rested at the table, Dean went off to try and snag his own after-hunt reward while Sam walked over to the bar to chat up some cute brunette he had seen. The entire time, I entertained myself by watching him from a distance. Everything was going so well.

Unfortunately, for Sam, he let his awkwardness get the best of him.

“I swear, none of the good-lookin’ ones are single,” Dean grumbled as he took his seat back at the table, a defeated look on his face.

“Maybe you should lower your standards?” (Y/N) shrugged as he took a sip of beer, his eyes glued to his younger brother across the bar. “I mean, they have to lower their standards to sleep with you, don’t they? It’s about time you do the same.”

“Fuck you,” Dean scoffed a sipped his beer.

“Sorry, not interested.”

Dean rolled his eyes before he looked at (Y/N), noticing his gaze. He furrowed his brows. “The Hell are you looking at, anyway?”

Dean turned his head to look in the same direction as (Y/N), shifting his head to look over people as he attempted to see what had grabbed his brother’s attention. (Y/N) licked his lips and smirked.

“Looks like Sammy might get some tonight.” He said.

“No shit? Where?”

“At the far end of the bar. He’s talking to the babe in the blue dress.”

Once Dean stopped moving his head, he was able to see Sam and the woman standing at the corner of the bar. Both of them were facing one another. The woman leaned up against the bar while Sam had his hands placed awkwardly in his pockets. Both of them had smiles on their faces as they talked.

“Damn, she’s hot,” Dean mumbled.

“I know, right? He needs to take his hands out of his pockets, though. He looks like a fucking shy middle-schooler asking his crush out to the dance.”

“Eh,” Dean waved him off. “He always looks like that.”

“Yeah, I know, and have you seen him leave with anyone recently?”

“Point taken. So, what? You’ve just been watching this whole time?”

“I need to keep myself entertained somehow. Not in the mood for a one-night-stand, so I have to make my own fun.”

Dean gave a short nod before he continued to watch Sam. (Y/N) and Dean sat in silence as they watched Sam talk with the woman, mumbling back and forth to one another. As the two of them talked, Sam became visibly more comfortable. His movements became more animated and he pulled one of his hands out of his pockets. Both Dean and (Y/N) were practically sitting on the edge of their seats, their drinks completely forgotten about.

After ten agonizing minutes of watching, it was clear that Sam had become completely relaxed. They continued to talk as the lively bar moved around them. It was almost as if no one existed but the two of them. They were so engrossed in their conversation that Sam neglected to see the serving tray full of beer that was sitting down on the bar next to them. Finally, Sam took his other hand out of his pocket. He moved to lean on the bar, but his elbow never touched the polished bartop.

Instead, his elbow leaned against the edge of the serving tray, knocking it over. The tray and glasses clattered to the ground, sending glass particles across the floor. Beer splashed on himself and the woman he had been talking to, who had a look of horror across her face.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as he quickly reached over and grabbed Dean’s arm. His jaw dropped and he immediately felt the laughter bubble up inside of his chest. He covered his mouth with his other hand and turned towards Dean. Dean snorted and turned his body so that he was facing (Y/N), his own eyes wide and hand covering his mouth as well. Both Dean and (Y/N) shook as they tried to contain the laughter.

They sat there, attempting to hide their amusement as Sam walked back over to the table, a defeated look on his face. He sat down, grabbed the beer that he had once forgotten about, and took a long swig. When he saw Dean and (Y/N) practically doubled over, he raised a brow.

“What’re you two laughing at?” He asked as a small smirk played on the corner of his lips.

(Y/N) turned away from Dean, pressing his lips together as he placed both of his hands on his beer. His gaze averted to the table, unable to look at Sam without laughing. He shook his head.

“Nothing…” he spoke in a broken, high-pitched voice. “Nothing, nothing. You wouldn’t get it.” He waved off and took a drink.

Sam looked towards Dean, who took a drink as well. “Yeah, you wouldn’t get it,” he paused. “Just like you didn’t get that chick’s number.”

(Y/N) snorted as he let out a laugh, his shoulders bouncing. Sam’s smirk vanished and was replaced with a deep frown. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink as he slammed his cup down on the table and stood.

“Real mature, you guys,” he grumbled, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

“Oh, come on, Sammy!” Dean exclaimed. “You almost had her!”

Sam rolled his eyes as he put his arms into his jacket sleeves. “Hey, Sammy, look on the bright side!” (Y/N) began. “At least you were able to get her wet somehow.”

(Y/N) howled and slapped his hand on the table, Dean following suit. One of (Y/N)'s arms was curled against his stomach as he leaned forward. Sam glared at him.

“I’m going back to the motel.” He growled out before he turned sharply and walked away before Dean or (Y/N) could say anything.

By the time (Y/N) and Dean were done laughing, tears were rolling down their faces and their cheeks were bright red. Dean used his thumb and index finger to wipe away the tears while (Y/N) used the collar of his shirt. Once they were both settled, they leaned back in their seats. Dean shook his head.

“We really need to get that kid a hooker or something,” He finally said.

“I second that,” (Y/N) nodded and raised his glass.

Dean raised his glass as well before they both drank.

Sam didn’t talk to us for the rest of the night. He didn’t talk to us for the next couple of days until we got back to the bunker. Dean and I would try to get him to talk to us about something, anything, even the nerdy shit that he’s into, but he wouldn’t budge. On the drive back, he was wearing his headphones the entire time, so that whenever Dean or I would try to talk to him, he had some type of excuse as to why he didn’t talk to us.

Little asshole.

Wish I had headphones that I could just pop in to ignore the two of them.

Maybe I’ll pick some up?

Of course, I felt bad for the kid. He looked like he was having a good time, but you should have seen the look on the woman’s face when the beer spilled all over her. It was priceless! I had wished I held it together long enough to be able to see what had happened afterward, but if the look on her face had any correlation with her reaction, it probably wasn’t a good one.

Don’t feel too bad for the kid, though, he got laid a couple of months ago. He’s fine, basically back to normal.

Still, Dean and I like to bring it up occasionally. Sam has stopped getting so angry about it and has just resorted to rolling his eyes and ignoring us. One of these days, he’s going to get the balls to use one of our embarrassing pick-up attempts against us to shut us up.

God knows he probably has more instances of us than we do of him.

OCTOBER 2014

Jesus, my wrist hurts. Do people normally write this much in their journals? Certainly not at once, right? I have to be setting a new World Record. I wonder if there’s a world record for something like this? I’ll need to look it up later.

Trust me, though, I have yet to scratch the surface of the embarrassing memories I have of my two brothers. These are just my favorite ones. If they decide to read this, I hope the two of you enjoyed going down memory lane! Maybe you’ll learn not to look at other people’s shit?

Who am I kidding, of course you won’t.

I’ll need to hide this somewhere else. Maybe my closet? Maybe in one of my bags? I can’t even think of a place where they won’t eventually find it. Whatever, I’ll hide it in the back of my closet and see where that gets me.

The bunker door just opened. Sounds like Sam and Dean are back from the supply run. I’ll need to make this short and simple so I can help them put the groceries away before they start bitching at me.

Until next time,

Stay safe. (That STILL sounds bad. God, I’m terrible at ending these things.)

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