#john winchester x male reader

[supernaturalscribe67]

Just Like Mama Used to Make

Words: 6,178

POV: 1st & 3rd Person

Pairing: John x Son!Reader - Dean/Sam x Brother!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, John Winchester, Fluff, Mention of Childhood Trauma, Mention of Death, I think that's it??

Summary: Taking inspiration from his father, the reader starts his very own journal. For his first entry, he recalls some of the memories that shaped him into the hunter that he has become.

Request:

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request John/Dean/Sam Winchester reaction to having a brother who looks like their mother and picked up hunting like breathing?

@xweirdo101x

A/N: My very first request! It kind of got away from me, but I really hope that I was able to do your request justice. Hope you like it!~

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Hello

Hey!

Dear Diary

SEPTEMBER 2014

To be honest, I have no idea how to start something like this. I was never one for writing, nor have I been one who can easily express my emotions. I guess I got that trait from the Winchester side of my family. Still, I have thought a lot about Dad’s journal lately. The things that he wrote down. It’s not detailed. It’s nowhere near what it was like growing up with him, but it still provides Dean, Sammy, and me with some information and nostalgia from time to time.

So, I figured ‘Why the Hell not’, I might as well write down some things in my own journal. I’m going to die someday anyway, and I want people to read this and be able to see what my life was like. From the good times that I spent with my family to the bad times when I lost my family. Hell, maybe this journal will get me into a history book someday when someone else discovers the Men of Letters Bunker. Who knows. Maybe I’ll be famous after I die, or perhaps it’s just wishful thinking. 

This journal has already turned into a clusterfuck. I don’t even know what to write about. I can’t even think of things to write about. Should I say things about my life? Should I just write down random things I think of throughout the day? I don’t know how to do it. Even when I look at Dad’s journal for inspiration, there’s nothing to inspire in it. A lot of it is notes on how to kill monsters and other stuff is just a bunch of personal bullshit he was going through. 

Well, we were all going through it.

I guess I’ll start by writing down some of the memories I’ve had. If I don’t like it, then I’ll throw this journal away and start another one. I don’t want future historians to think of me as some scatterbrained moron, despite what Sammy and Dean say at times. If you’re reading this now, I’m actually the smartest Winchester brother. Don’t believe a thing Sam and Dean say. I’m the brains of the operations and our day-to-day lives. I’ve saved them more times than I could count. 

Then again, they’ve probably saved me just as much. 

Alright, I’m getting side-tracked. I guess I’ll just start writing. 

Should I introduce myself first before I do so? 

My name is (Y/N) Winchester. I’m a hunter. 

This is my story (God, that was terrible)

AUGUST 1991

I remember the first time I mentioned to my father that I wanted to be a hunter, just like him. I was six years old. Dad didn’t take it very kindly. He yelled, a lot. Screamed sometimes. I never truly understood why he would always get so upset whenever I would ask him to teach me how to hunt. 

It wasn’t until I was a man that I understood why. 

I look just like my mother. 

I don’t know how I could have been so blind all those years. I have her hair. I have her face. I have her smile. All of these things have been said by my father before. Not necessarily when he was sober. I was always the one person that reminded my Dad of his wife. Of my mother. I think a part of him wanted to keep me safe, just so he could always look at me and remember what she looked like. Even when I was a child, though, I could see the hurt behind his eyes every once in a while when he would look at me. It made me feel guilty. 

Still does. 

I know that none of it is my fault, that he made himself hurt. 

Still… 

For months, I would ask my Dad to teach me about hunting. To teach me about the monsters that crept through the darkness. Each time I asked, he would reject my request and I would get scolded for asking such a stupid question. 

So, one night, around the age of seven or eight (one of the two, I can’t remember exactly), I decided that school wasn’t very important. There were occasions when I snuck out of classes to go to the library of whatever town we were in at the time to search the limited amount of lore books that they had. There were times when I got caught by Dean before I was able to sneak out. Other times it was by Sammy. Sometimes, my father would get a call from the school because I had been reported missing. 

I was a problem child, as you could tell. 

It’s not that I hated school. 

It just wasn’t my favorite. 

And I wanted to hunt. 

So, anyway…from town to town, I would skip class, go to the library, and learn everything that I could learn about hunting if there was anything to learn. Sometimes, I would ask Dean questions. Sometimes he would answer, other times he told me to not worry about it and to mind my own business. It used to hurt whenever Dean would reject any of the questions that I would ask, but I know now that it was so he didn’t get in trouble with Dad. I remember giving him a hard time about it, about not answering me. Dean, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry for being a jerk. 

Then again, Dean, if you’re reading this, you shouldn’t be reading this and expect some glitter to appear in your body wash. 

No one knew about my secret research. No one knew the reason behind my skipping classes. I would constantly make up lies, most of them being about how much I hated moving around and just wanted to rebel against my father. Typical kid stuff. 

It wasn’t until August of 1991, when I was ten years old, that I was finally able to put that research to use.

(Y/N) stared down at the paper that rested on a notebook in his lap. His eyes were wide and filled with stress, fingers tangled in his short hair, his back slouched ever so slightly. Dean sat a couple of inches away from him near the end of the bed, his homework in his lap, while Sam leaned against the headboard, a book in his hands that he had gotten from the school library. Dean looked up from his work, noticing the look of despair on his brother’s face before he glanced down at his worksheet. Dean grimaced and let out a hiss. 

“Multiplying fractions?” He asked, a hint of sympathy in his tone. 

Without looking up, (Y/N) gave a short nod. Dean pressed his lips together in a thin line before he set his pencil down beside him. 

“Do you need help?” Dean offered. 

(Y/N) lifted his head and looked at his older brother, giving a small, soundless nod. Dean offered a smile as he moved closer to him so that they were sitting next to one another. Dean craned his neck to be able to look at the paper, tilting his head as he studied the equations. 

“Which one are you having problems with?” He asked. 

“All of them,” (Y/N) answered. 

Dean snorted. “Okay, so, it’s easy-” 

“Wow, Dean thinks math is easy?” Sam mumbled, a smirk playing on his lips. 

Dean lifted his head and glared at Sam. “Shut up, bitch,” 

Sam shot a bitch-face towards Dean. “You shut up, jerk,” he retorted. 

(Y/N) let out a frustrated grunt. “Will both of you assholes shut up!? I don’t understand this!” His voice was filled with annoyance and desperation. 

Dean and Sam shot their brother a look. Sam rolled his eyes as he returned to the book. Dean looked back down at the paper, mumbling an apology under his breath. He then began to help (Y/N) with his homework, walking him through all of the problems that he had. (Y/N) still felt as if Dean was speaking in a foreign language, but he could understand the homework a little easier. 

When the paper was halfway finished, the door to the motel room suddenly burst open, causing the three brothers to jump, their eyes wide as they turned and looked at the person who had just entered. John stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him. He stomped over to the couch that sat in front of the small television set and plopped down on it. He ran his hands down his face and let a small growl emit from his throat. 

Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) shared a glance, almost as if they were communicating telepathically. After a while, Dean and Sam both turned their attention toward their brother, their eyes locked on his. After looking back and forth between the two, (Y/N) let out a soundless sigh as he set his homework beside him. He moved off of the bed and padded across the aged carpet to the couch. Slowly, he walked around the sofa so that he could see his father. 

John looked tired. Dark circles were prominent underneath his eyes. One of his legs was propped up on the couch while the other lay bent in front of him. His elbow rested on the arm of the sofa, his cheek placed against his right hand as he stared at the television in front of him. Nothing played. When (Y/N) came into view, John glanced at him out of the corner of his eye for a brief moment. He said nothing. 

“Hey, Dad,” (Y/N) greeted. “Um…how were the, uh, interviews with the victims’ families?” 

John shook his head. “Not great, kid,” he grumbled. 

“No?” 

“No.” 

As (Y/N) stared at his father, he timidly moved over to the couch. John hesitantly moved his leg as (Y/N) sat down next to him. 

“Did you…learn anything?” 

“Why aren’t you boys in bed?” John grunted. 

“We’re finishing our homework.” 

“Then shouldn’t you be working on it?”

(Y/N)’s shoulders slouched. “I just…wanted to see how it went is all…” 

“You want to know how it went?” John’s voice got deeper. “You really want to know how it went? Fucking terrible. That’s how it went,” John straightened himself out on the couch before he stood up. He began to pace around the room, his tone of voice getting more and more irritable. “I thought I had a good fucking lead going. All of the victims went to the same fucking bookstore a couple of days before their deaths and got the same book. Seems like a fucking coincidence, right? Then I go to the goddamn bookstore to see what the book was and all it was was something called Aradia or some shit like that. Some type of foreign book bullshit, I don’t fucking know.” 

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as John continued to rant. He looked down and away from his father. He got lost, deep in thought, the words that John was speaking irrelevant to him now. Finally, he turned back to him, kneeling on the couch as he raised his brows. 

“Did you say Aradia?” He questioned in the middle of John’s rant. 

John stopped pacing around the room as he looked back at (Y/N). Dean and Sam’s attention immediately turned to him, their eyes wide. John’s jaw was clenched, the anger and irritation still emanating from him. “Yeah,” he replied deeply. 

“Aradia…” (Y/N) trailed before he shook his head. “That’s not a foreign book, Dad! That’s only the first half of the title. The full title is Aradia or the Gospel of the Witches. It was one of the most influential pieces of literature in the nineteenth century to witches! You’re dealing with a witch!” (Y/N)’s eyes widened as a smile appeared on his face. 

John’s expression went from furious to confusion. He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about that book?” He questioned. 

“I read about it in a library a little bit ago.” (Y/N) answered quickly. 

John pressed his tongue into his cheek as he slowly nodded his head. He looked at Sam and Dean, who were still staring with wide eyes at their brother, and then back at (Y/N). He ran a hand down his face stressfully. 

“You boys finish your homework,” he mumbled as he walked towards the door. “I have to make a call.” 

Without allowing anyone to respond, John left the motel room, closing the door behind him a little gentler than when he entered. (Y/N)’s smile faded as he watched his father leave, his shoulders dropping. The three brothers sat in silence for a minute before they looked at one another. 

“Come on,” Dean said as he patted the spot on the bed next to him. “Let’s finish these math problems.” 

Even though Dad never told me, I knew I was right. I knew it was a witch that he had dealt with. We didn’t even get to go to school the next day. He had found and killed her before I was able to turn in that math homework. What a waste of time. 

I would like to think that Dad was proud of me in that situation, but he never said anything. He never brought it up again as far as I can remember. It was something that he had put in the past, along with all of the other hunts that we had been on. However, even if he wasn’t proud of me back then, I was proud of myself. Proud that I was able to help my Dad even if I wasn’t beside him when he took that bitch down. 

God, I hate witches. 

MAY 1993

I didn’t touch a gun until I was twelve years old. By that point, I had stopped begging Dad to teach me how to hunt, because it seemed that the only answer I was going to be getting was ‘No’. I figured that I would go to the next best person for the job. 

I had to ask Dean. 

Dean was very protective of Sammy and me when we were younger. He still is super protective of us, even in our ripe old ages. But because of how protective he could get, he was very hesitant about teaching me how to shoot a gun. However, with Dad talking about Dean going on hunts with him more and more by then, I knew that I would be left alone with Sammy. I used the excuse that I needed to learn how to shoot a gun eventually so that I could protect the two of us when we were by ourselves. I couldn’t be expected to be safe when the only two people who knew how to shoot were away. 

That reasoning caught Dean’s attention. 

After the fifth or sixth time asking him, Dean had finally agreed. A couple of days passed and, when Dad was a couple of towns away gathering information for a hunt, Dean and I skipped school. Shocking, right? I think Dean used the excuse that I hadn’t been feeling well and he had to take care of me. He even wrote out a fake doctor’s note and everything. Back then, you could get away with a handwritten note. I’m not too sure if you could now. 

Once Sammy had been dropped off at school that day, Dean and I walked to a creek a couple of miles away from the school. He had set up a couple of cans on a log, some recycled stuff that he had picked up along the way. He had brought one of Dad’s small handguns with him. When he gave it to me, it felt so surreal. So different. 

I never really understood what the big fuss was about, though. 

Shooting a gun was easy. 

“No, you can’t have your hand that low! You have it that low and the gun is going to come out of your hand when you shoot it,” Dean grumbled. 

Dean took (Y/N)’s hand in his and adjusted it so that it fits perfectly onto the grip of the handgun. He then took his other hand and placed it on top of the one that was already on the gun. (Y/N) furrowed his brows as he looked at the way his hands nestled against one another. 

“This doesn’t feel right.” He said. “Why can’t I just hold it with one hand like the cops do in the movies?” 

“Because you’re twelve, dummy. You’re not in your forties and have years of experience under your belt,” Dean rolled his eyes. “And that is exactly how you should hold it if you don’t want to get hit in the face with your weapon after you fire it.” 

(Y/N) listened intently to what his brother was saying, giving him a small nod before he straightened his back up. 

“Stop.” Dean held up a hand. 

(Y/N) shot Dean a confused look. “What?” 

“You’re standing wrong.” 

“I’m standing wrong…” 

“Yeah, here,” Dean walked over, pressing his hand against the top of (Y/N)’s back ever so slightly, leaning him forward. “If you have your back too straight, then you’re more likely to fall backward. You also,” Dean kicked (Y/N)’s feet apart. “Need to have your feet apart. Keeps you more ground.”

(Y/N) looked down at the ground for a moment, taking in the appearance and feel of his stance. The way his back leaned forward and the way his legs were spread. He nodded. 

“Okay, now I shoot?” 

“Is your safety off?” 

“Safety?” 

Dean sighed, moving back over to him. He took the gun from (Y/N)’s grasp and flashed the left side of the gun. “You see this little trigger?” When Dean received a nod from his brother, he continued. “If it’s facing side-to-side, that means the safety is on. That means the gun won’t fire. All you have to do is flick this little switch,” Dean turned the safety off. “Once it’s up and down, then that means it’s ready to fire.” He handed the gun back to (Y/N). “Now, get back into position.” 

(Y/N) glanced down at the safety mechanism on the gun for a moment before he nodded. He got back into the position that he was in, spreading his legs apart the same length Dean had and slouching his back forward ever so slightly. Once he received a nod of approval from Dean, (Y/N) lifted his arms, cocking his head to the side. He aimed at the can farthest to the left. He closed his left eye and placed his finger on the trigger. 

“Stop!” Dean said more abruptly. 

(Y/N) jumped and moved his finger off the trigger, standing up straighter to face Dean. “What!?” He asked exasperatedly. 

Dean shook his head. “You can’t have one eye closed.” 

“Why not? Snipers do it!” 

“Because snipers are far enough away from combat. They need to look through a scope to get a good shot. You, on the other hand, are feet away from whatever monster you’re dealing with. What happens when you’re facing more than one monster? You leave yourself open to being taken out on your left.” Dean’s tone was stern, yet calm. His arms were crossed over his chest. 

Slowly, (Y/N) nodded as he grasped an understanding of Dean’s thinking. “Both eyes open?” 

“Both eyes open.” Dean backed up a bit. “Back into position.” 

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath before resuming his position. Legs spread, back bent, arms up, head tilted, both eyes open. His goal was to hit the used can of peaches that sat on the outside of the log. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest from anxiousness and anticipation. He was surprised the gun wasn’t shaking in his grasp. 

His eyes were on the cartoon peaches that were etched onto the label of the can. More specifically, the pit that sat in the center of the peach. He wanted to hit the pit. He never moved his eyes from the pit as he took a deep breath, his shoulders rising. Finally, as he exhaled, his shoulders dropping, he pulled the trigger. 

The can flew into the air and seemed to dramatically and unceremoniously fall into the creek. A small splash echoed in (Y/N)’s ears, accompanied by the ringing of the gunshot. 

One thing that (Y/N) noted was that his hands ached, both from the vice grip he had on the gun and the recoil that he hadn’t expected. Sure, Dean had informed him about it before, but he wasn’t sure how it would feel. His hands would definitely bruise. 

(Y/N) lowered the gun, looking over at his brother to see that Dean wore a stunned expression on his face. Dean’s mouth hung open as his eyes were glued to the can that lay in the flowing water. (Y/N) watched in silence as Dean walked over to the can. He reached down and picked it up by the opening, wincing from the heat of the bullet hole before he swapped hands. He studied the can. It seemed like too much time had passed before he turned the can so (Y/N) could see. 

(Y/N) had gotten it on his first try. 

The bullet hole? 

Right in the pit. 

(Y/N) raised his brows, a mixture of pride and surprise coursing through him. A wide smile appeared on his face. Similarly, a smirk appeared on Dean’s lips. Dean chuckled before he tossed the can into the water. 

“Beginner’s luck,” he said, brushing his hands onto his jeans. “Let’s see if you can hit the other ones.” 

I shot through the rest of the cans, the same as I had done for that can of peaches. Not to toot my own horn, but I was a natural when it came to a pistol. I don’t mean to sound egotistic about this, but Dean can back up any statement that I’m making about this story. 

I could tell that Dean was proud of me that day. He never said he was, but the way he looked at me and the way he treated me afterward told me things that words couldn’t. It’s hard to describe, but it almost felt like he had gained some respect for me that day. It felt good. Even as I am writing about this story, I can’t keep the smile off my face. I always looked up at Dean, so it feels great to think that I had done something to bring a smile to his stupid face. 

My hands hurt like hell after it was all said and done. I had gotten a couple of bruises near the thumb on my right hand that I brushed off to my Dad as something that I had picked up when I got into a fight at school. Dean had backed me up when Dad got on my ass about it. Dad told me that I had to get along with the other kids so I didn’t give the wrong impression at the schools I went to. It wasn’t like they would remember me anyway. Of course, I didn’t tell him that. I knew when to bite my tongue. 

Dad never found out about the shooting practice. I get a feeling that he had a sneaking suspicion as soon as he took me to practice himself years later, but I never told him about it. I never told him that Dean had been the one to teach me how to stand correctly, or where to find the safety of a gun. I know that he knew it was Dean. A part of me wonders if Dean ever got in trouble for it, or if it was something that Dad even brought up. I would never ask Dean about it now, though. 

Some things are best to be left in the past.

 

NOVEMBER 1999

By the time I turned eighteen, I had already been on several hunts with Dad and Dean. The majority of the time, though, I would stay back and watch Sammy. Even though he was a teenager and had the capability of taking care of himself, Dad expressed that he was still a kid and needed to be looked after. A part of me thought it was bullshit at the time, but another part of me was glad that I was able to spend time with my younger brother. 

Now, I know the real reason behind my staying with Sammy was because some of the hunts that Dad and Dean went on were ‘rough’. A little ‘too hard’ for me. 

Dad didn’t want to lose the son that reminded him of his wife. 

At least, that was what Dean told me, and I believe him. 

It was a blessing and a curse, come to think of it. There were times that I stayed behind and Dad called me up, needing me to do some research for the case that they were working on. He had said it would be faster if someone was working on the research while he and Dean were out taking interviews. In the end, it was more efficient. I would gather the necessary information and hand it off to him and they would be back at the motel a lot quicker than if they had been the ones to look up the information. 

That was the system that we worked with for a while. After a couple of months, Dad informed me that he didn’t want me to do the research anymore. He wanted Sammy to be the one to do it. I remember him saying that Sammy needed to focus more on the hunting aspect of his life. That school was just a waste of time at that point. He was old enough to get into it. 

Sammy hated the idea when I told him. He loved school. He was always such a nerd. Still is. An even bigger nerd if you can believe it. I knew how much school meant to him, and I didn’t want him to be discouraged from doing his schoolwork. He shouldn’t have been forced to do anything that he didn’t want to. So, I decided that I was going to do the research and just tell Dad that he had been the one to do it. Sammy was thankful. 

That was until Dad called. 

Dad wasn't as stupid as I took him for most of the time. He knew that Sammy hadn’t done any of the research, that I was the one that did it all. By the time he and Dean got back, he gave Sammy a verbal lashing. I tried to defend him, but nothing worked. In the end, Sammy gave in. He would do the research for the next hunt. 

Like clockwork, when the next hunt rolled around, with Sammy and I staying back at the motel, Dad had called. He had given Sammy the information that he needed to research and we headed off to the local library. Once we got the necessary books, we took them back to the motel and he began to work. 

I could tell that it wasn’t going well.

Sam sat at the small table near the motel room door, two books placed in front of him. His back was slouched as he looked from one book to another, flipping through pages frantically. He had been going at it for several hours by then, evident by the bags that were present underneath his eyes and the redness around his pupils. (Y/N) sat on the couch, watching some old western show. Now and then he would look at his little brother. He could see how tired and stressed he was about the entire situation. (Y/N) had never seen Sam that stressed out before, even when he was studying for a test in one of his AP classes. 

Eventually, Sam pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, lowering his head, as if accepting defeat. (Y/N) studied his movements, and, after he saw that he had not moved in a while, he decided the best thing to do was to help him out. He picked up the remote and turned off the television before tossing it aside. He stood from his spot on the couch and walked over to the table. He grabbed the spare chair, pulled it beside Sam, and sat down. 

“Having some trouble?” He questioned. 

Sam’s shoulders rose and fell as a sigh escaped his lips. He removed his hands from his face and placed them into his lengthy hair. His eyes were cast down towards the table. He stayed in the same position for some time before he looked up at (Y/N). 

“No,” he answered, pulling the books towards him. “I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look fine.” 

“I said ‘I’m fine’,” Sam repeated through gritted teeth. 

(Y/N) studied him with an expressionless face. Sam kept his eyes down, looking from one book to another. (Y/N) was able to see the stress that was emitted from his brother even better with how close he was sitting. He took one look at the books before he shook his head. 

“I’m sorry Dad’s making you do this.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s not. You shouldn’t be doing this alone the first time…” he trailed. “But if Dad found out I helped you-” 

“You’d get in trouble, and so would I. Yeah, I know.” 

(Y/N) pursed his lips. “You know, it took me a little over a year to get comfortable with translating Latin. I sometimes screw up from time to time.” 

“Still?” 

“Yeah, still,” he chuckled. “That’s why I got something that helps me out now and again.” 

With that, (Y/N) stood from his spot on the chair and waltzed over to the bed in the far corner of the room. Beside the bed sat his black duffel bag. He picked it up and placed it on the bed. He began to rummage through it, sorting through clothes and weapons that rested at the bottom. Wedged into the corner of his bag sat a book. He picked it up and brought it over to the table. He took a seat next to Sam once more and placed the book in front of him. 

Sam furrowed his brows as he studied the cover. It was a Latin-English translation book. It looked rather similar to the one that he had picked up at the library. The only difference was the color of the cover was a little faded and, along the outside of the book, between all of the pages, were multi-colored Post-it notes. Each Post-it note had different letter combinations on it, as well as notes written on some of them. Sam opened the cover and he raised his brows when he saw that the first page was replaced by a notebook-sized piece of paper, taped to the front page. There were multiple words in English on the left side with their corresponding Latin translation on the right. 

“What’s this?” Sam asked. 

“It’s a translation book I picked up a couple of years back at a bookstore. I figured since there were going to be a lot of things that needed translating, then I was going to have to make it easier for myself to find the words. The only problem is that most of these translation books are so damn compressed that it’s hard to find certain words without getting blurry vision. So, I took the liberty to mark down all of the times when the letters change in the words. For example, when the words that start with ‘AB’ transfer to words that start with ‘AC’. It always made it easier to find. Plus, I made a page at the beginning about common words that I have found in my research so that it would be easier to translate them.” 

As (Y/N) explained, he gestured with his hand toward the book. Sam listened intently, taking in all of the information that he was given, nodding his head. Once (Y/N) was done talking, Sam looked down at the book and then back up at him. 

“You did all this?” 

“Yeah,” (Y/N) chuckled. “Crazy, right?” 

Sam snorted. “Yeah. Wish you put that much effort into your homework when you were still in school.” 

“Hey,” (Y/N) leaned back in his chair and lifted his hands in mock surrender. “School was fine and all, but this is something I enjoy, and I’m good at it. I’m good at hunting research and you’re good in school.” 

“And what’s Dean good at?” 

“Being a pain in the ass.” 

Sam smiled widely, his dimples more prominent than (Y/N) had seen in a while. After a beat or two of silence, the smile faded as he looked down.

“I wish Dad could see that I’m good at school.” 

The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth curved downward. It was his turn to look down at the table. He reached over and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder comfortingly. “I know, kiddo,” he mumbled. “But Dean and I both see how much of a nerd you are. Don’t worry.” 

A smile returned to Sam’s face, but it wasn’t as happy as the last one. They sat in silence for a little bit before (Y/N) lowered his hand and Sam moved back to the books. 

“You got it from here?” (Y/N) questioned. 

“Yeah, I got it,” 

“Great,” (Y/N) said as he stood from his seat and patted Sam on the back. “Call me over if you need anything.” 

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to call you over when I get to the part about multiplying fractions.” 

(Y/N) glared at Sam and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” 

“No, no I’m not.” 

Sammy still teases me to this day about not knowing how to multiply fractions. Even though it was decades ago at this point, he still likes to tease me about it. Little shit. 

With my help, Sammy was able to get the translations done a lot faster than he expected. I remember seeing the relief on his face when he had finished. Poor kid was so exhausted. Dad was more than pleased when he called and asked about it. Dad never found out that I had helped him out a bit, and neither Sammy nor I were planning on telling him. I just wanted Sammy to have an easier time than I did when I was first learning about research, specifically translations. 

In the end, I would have to say that Sammy is better than me when it comes to research. He’s taken the reigns on many different hunts because of how proficient he is with technology. I’m good with old-fashioned ways of research, but Sammy’s the nerd when it comes to computers. 

Sammy has told me once or twice, though, that I was the one that helped him the most when it came to his knowledge of research. That, without my help, he wouldn’t have been as good at it as he is now. 

I call bullshit. Sammy has always been a smart kid. 

He could do anything he put his mind to. 

SEPTEMBER 2014

This is all I can write at the moment. Dean called me to the kitchen a couple of minutes ago saying that dinner was ready. I need to wrap this up before he or Sammy comes in here and sees what I’m doing. I know that I would get endlessly teased about keeping a ‘diary’. I need to make sure to hide this in a good enough place where neither of them will find it if they go snooping through my room. 

Sam, Dean, if you guys are reading this, I’ll get you back. 

But if you’re going to read it, I just want to let you know that I love you guys. 

Not that I’m into chick-flick moments or anything. 

I’m just glad that I have you guys as my brothers. No one could ask for a better family than you two. 

Okay, that was cheesy. I wish I wasn’t writing this in pen so I could erase it. 

Dammit. 

I’m not too sure how to end this, so I guess I’ll just write again sometime when I can. Perhaps I could do like Dad did in his journal and write about all of the new monsters we have discovered over the years. Or maybe write more memories down. This journal is going to be so cluttered that no one is going to want to read it. There’s no way I’m going to get famous from this. 

Dean just called me to the kitchen again. 

Until next time. 

Happy hunting. (That was stupid, think of something better).

WE LOVE YOU TOO - SAM + DEAN

[cmncisspnandmore]

Masterlist

Last Updated: 5/28/2024

Fair warning to anyone who reads some of the series on here, a lot of them are unfinished, I started writing them years ago. I may go back and finish some of them, i may not. If there is a series you find that you enjoy that is unfinished let me know!

ALL FICS ARE FEMALE READER UNLESS OTHERWISE STATED. (I am more than happy to write all other kinds of readers, I fully support LGBTQIA+on this blog.)

One Shots

Spencer Reid: Stir Crazy Alone Late Nights Bothered Dr. Reid? What Should I Reid? Bookworms (Male!Reader) You're Dating Who?! Home Silent Moments Turned Tables

David Rossi: Homework Pile Up (Daughter!Reader)

Aaron Hotchner: Ruined (Platonic!Reader) Soothing Voices

Series

Spencer Reid: Mistakes Were Made; 1,2,3,4 Boy Wonder and Family Prequel; 1,2 Boy wonder and Family; 1,2,3, Don't Let Me Go; 1,2,3,4,5

Blurbs

Headcannons

One shots

Dean Winchester: Baby Mine

Sam Winchester: Living Blood Bank S'pise

Sam and Dean Winchester: Without you

Blurbs

Headcannons

One shots

Simon "Ghost" Riley Don't Own Me Bittersweet Troublesome Feelings

Keegan P Russ Brothers Best Friend

Series

Poly!Task Force 141 All Hands On Deck, 2, 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley One Night Stand: 1 ,2,3,4 5,6,7,8

Captain John Price Coming Home To You: 1,2,3

Blurbs

Simon "Ghost" Riley Faking his own death Money Teenage Daughter Simon hates seeing you cry, "Yeah i think you're hot," Not Coming Home

John "Soap" MacTavish Hopeless Flirt Coming home from a long mission Sundresses and Sorrow

Simon Riley X John Mactavish X Reader Dad!Simon and Dad!Johnny, missing gear.

Captain John Price Tarmac and Tears

Requests

Simon "Ghost" Riley Body Image Freckles Control

Headcannons

Oneshots

Stiles Stilinski Study Breaks

Series

Blurbs

Headcannons

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

heyyy i have a silly little idea!

What if male!reader was the oldest Winchester brother and was dating Aaron Hotchner? idk just a silly little idea i had, Love your writing and make sure to drink lots of water!

Okay so I kind of took this and ran with it, I hope you don't mind aha

Also, reader's like 14 years older than Dean, so in my head he's John's kid from another relationship and is 7 years old when John and Mary get married (based on this timeline I found).

(I might come back to this and do another part at some point aha)

Warnings: John bashing, homophobia mentions

"Hey, you guys want to meet a friend of mine?" You asked, looking at your brothers. Sam nodded, Dean merely shrugged.

"Sure, whatever," He mumbled as he stood up. You held back a sigh, trying to remind yourself that he was just going through a rough patch at the minute. Normally, he took moving from place to place in his stride, but he was struggling this time. You couldn't help but think that perhaps he had connected with someone in Mississippi during the month and a half you were all there. Besides, he was only ten, so it was bound to affect him a lot - despite how much he pretends it doesn't.

Now, you had been in Virginia for the last three months (apparently it was riddled with monsters). You met him your first day here, he had asked for your number with a charm that made your knees weak - so you gave it to him. Despite the charges for texting, you did so every day.

Sam turned to you, "Are they a special friend, (Y/N)?" He asks quietly, unsure if you're going to be offended by the question.

"Yeah, he is Sammy,"

Sam grinned, "Like a special, special friend?"

You huffed a quiet laugh, "Yeah, kid, a special special friend,"

Sam nodded, satisfied with your answer.

"How old is he exactly?" Dean asked as he folded his arms.

"He's 28,"

"28?!" Dean's eyes widen, "Dude, he's so much older than you!"

"It's four years Dean, chill." You rolled your eyes slightly.

"I think it's cool," Sam chimed as he walked up to the pair of you.

"Thank you, Sam." You said, "But we need to keep this between us, okay? Dad can't find out, alright?"

"Why?" Sam asked, looking up at you. You sighed, crouching down to his height. He was only six, he didn't quite know everything that you guys did just yet. Or at least understand it to a full extent. He also didn't understand your dad's... beliefs, let's say, to a full extent either.

"Dad, he... he won't agree with it," You explained gently.

"Why?" Sam asked again.

"He's homofonic." Dean said confidently.

"Homophobic," You correctly gently.

"What does that mean?"

"Well, it's when someone doesn't like that a man and a man or a woman and a woman get together,"

"Like boyfriend and boyfriend?" Sam asked and you nodded, "That's allowed? I thought it was only boyfriends and girlfriends allowed,"

"Well, it was illegal for a long time," You explained, "But it's getting better,"

"Are you allowed to get married to another boy now?"

"Only in a few states," You said.

"Is that why you don't really tell people?"

"Yeah, that's why I don't tell people," You said, "That's why I haven't told dad,"

"Okay," Sam nodded, excepting this once more, "Is your special special friend your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, yeah he is," You said, smiling softly, Sam beamed up at you.

"Really?!"

You nodded, "Yep,"

"That's so cool am I gonna have another big brother?!"

You chuckled softly, ruffling his hair, "Maybe, Sammy, you'll have to ask him,"

"What's his name?"

"Aaron,"

"What's his job?"

"He works for the FBI," You said after a moment's hesitation.

"Are you serious?"

"Dean, I don't wanna hear it,"

"But he's a fed, (Y/N)!" Dean exclaims, following you through the motel hall.

"And?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Seriously?" Dean shakes his head, "Dad'll go mental if he finds out."

"Exactly. If." There's a beat, "Besides, I'm a grown ass man, Dean."

"He's not gonna be happy when he finds out about this." He huffs, folding his arms.

"He's not going to find out about this, you hear me?" You said, "I already told you, no one tells dad, do I make myself clear?"

"Who died and made you king?" Dean snaps.

"Dean, I don't wanna fucking hear it, okay?" You reply, "I'm an adult. You're a kid. Now, get in the car,"

"I don't understand why dad gave you the impala." Dean huffed as he sat in the front seat.

"How about this, when you're old enough to drive, you can drive it and I'll let you have it, yeah?"

"Really?!" You watch as Dean's face light up and you nod.

"Yeah," You smiled slightly, "Now, come on, let's go."

Sam looked at you and gave a small shrug before getting in the car.

It was a short drive to Aaron's apartment, Sam had asked questions the entire way about Aaron and your relationship (ever the curious mind), Dean had pretended not to care (but secretly did). And, soon enough, you parked the Impala and all piled out.

Aaron, as promised, met you outside, smiling. "Hey," He stepped closer to you but made no move to kiss you.

You smiled back, "Hey." Dean coughed loudly, "Oh, right, this is Sam and this is Dean."

Aaron turns to them, "I've heard a lot about you two, you're brother's very proud of you."

"Really?" Sam grinned.

"Of course kid," You ruffled his hair. "Come on, let's go inside."

When you were all inside, Aaron shut the door gently before kissing your cheek. "I missed you,"

"It's been a whole two days,"

"Two days too many," He said softly, Dean cleared his throat.

"Can you not in front of us?" Dean asked, "It's a bit gross,"

You blushed slightly, closing your eyes for a moment before turning to your brothers, "Sorry, go sit on the couch and watch tv or something," You said. Dean nodded, making his way to the couch, but Sam stayed. "What's up?"

"I have some questions," He said gently, looking up at you.

You share a smile with Aaron before you both nod, "Sure," You said - all sitting down at the small table, "What's on your mind, kid?"

"Um, so you're boyfriends?"

"Yep,"

"Is that dangerous?" Sam asked, gnawing at the skin of his bottom lip.

"What do you mean?" You asked gently.

"Well it used to be not allowed so people must have been against it. You won't get hurt for it, will you?"

Your heart melted, seeing the concern on your younger brother's face and you shook your head, "I'll be okay," You reassured, "I'm your big brother, I'll always be okay,"

"But Dean said on the way here that there's some people who are really really against it,"

You closed your eyes, making a note to yourself to talk to Dean about that later. "Yes that can happen sometimes, but I'm not going to let that happen to me, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise,"

"Okay, good." With this, he turned to Aaron, "Are you going to be my older brother too?"

[denim-devil]

SUPERNATURAL | MASTERLIST

— Key

Smut - {S} | Fluff - {F} | Angst - {A}

✧ Dean Winchester

╰┈➤ Dauntless {S} - {F} ꨄ

Summary - A close call has Dean asking questions, hoping to gain some clarity of the current situation, the flames ignite bringing the butterflies that had once lay dormant, to life.

Do I Wanna Know? ꨄ - COMING SOON

✧ Sam Winchester

╰┈➤

✧ John Winchester

╰┈➤

[starlvenus]

Supernatural oneshots :p !!

Hii!! :3

Got into writing again :p and supernatural fics are what i want to write right now!! Im not the most experienced writer so some things may be out of character but i try my best!! Request some stories and ill probably eventually get to them :3 Ill write for almost every character (maybe not John Winchester :p) I write for men and women (ill write for readers with social anxiety as i deal with that as well :3)

If you want a specific gender for the reader just put it in your request (idm writing for any gender :3 + if there is no specified gender it will b gn :p) I will also write platonic stuff whenever its just friends or siblings, or even family stuff (like dad dean etc.)

For things that i wont write are any NSFW, no pregnancy, incest+stepcest, birth related stuff, i also wont write any three ways with the brothers (ex- sam x reader x dean), huge age gaps (1-5 years are fine, a bit iffy on anything else :3), no perverted readers or characters, and just basic gross stuff!!

But yeah anything but those things ill basically write anything!! A sam x reader is currently in the works :3 soo there will be something coming out soon :p

[blackynsupremacy]

“HI, MS. PARKER!”

pairing: female!reader x female!bff x oldermale!character

inspo: friday (1995)

18+ vibes, so minors dni! contains: age gap, flirting, teasing, mention of a threesome, arousal, implied smut, swearing.

the neighbor: clark kent, steve rogers, thor odinson, logan howlett, derek morgan, dean winchester, erik killmonger, john winchester, bucky barnes or any character the reader has in mind!

taglist: @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn @afrowrites @rosiestalez @zombiehe4rt @sabrinasopposite @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu

the sun adores the illuminated skin of you and your best friend. it’s friday, ya’ll ain’t got work nor classes, so you decided it was a beautiful day to take a bike ride through the neighborhood. it’s a blazing temperature of eighty-seven, so of course you’re both scantily clad in black halters and denim cut offs with slides before you hit the block. as you peddle around the corner, you spot him. it was one of your neighbors that had a decade on your twenty-five year old selves, but who gave a damn when he’s this—fine and recently divorced. your eyes gawk at how each of his muscles flexes in that tight-ass white tank top while performing the most mundane tasks such as mowing the lawn or fixing his car. the stains of perspiration leave a glistening mess on areas of his skin such as his arms, chest, and neck. you and your friend give each other a smirk, a glint of mischief within your eyes. you simultaneously wave at the man and greet him in the “friendliest” tone as you have done in prior occasions.

“heeeey!” you both squeal and let a few giggles escape as if you were back in your high school days.

he stops what he’s doing and lifts his head up at the harmony of your voices. he wipes the sweat of his brow with the back of his hand as an amicable grin curves on his lips. he raises a bulging arm in the air, a baritone voice resonating to reciprocate the greeting.

“hey, ladies! how ya doin’?”

“we’re good!”

you turn your heads to secretly converse with each other as the raunchiest of thoughts run circles through your minds. your friend mutters under her breath on your behalves.

“we’d be better if you’d let us fuck.”

he peered at you both with a tantalizing gaze, an arched brow and a piqued smirk that thankfully, both of you couldn’t see. this was a weekly routine of this teasing and he played right along with ya’ll. he hadn’t really got any play since the divorce finalized because he was just trying to focus on himself, but how could he focus with these two pyt’s basically eye fucking him each time they pass by as their bodies bounced on their bikes? the aching sensation of his dick hardens as he couldn’t deny the fact that he was just as intrigued as you and your friend. he often battled with himself as to which one he would take first, but then again—why not both at the same time?

“i’m sorry, what’d you say, honey?” he feignedly inquired.

to say ya’ll were gagged was an understatement because there’s no way that man heard what your friend said. albeit it was true that both of you held a strong attraction to the older male, ya’ll weren’t gonna let him know that too quick.

you stammered to save your asses.

“uh—nothing! have a good one, sir!”

the heat of embarrassment rushed on your faces as you waved again and peddled off a few more blocks before retiring back to your home. after that encounter, you both needed a cold shower to cool off the area that needed it the most.

later that evening as you both were binging your favorite reality show, your phones pinged at the same time. you both picked them up to see you got a new message from an unknown number and they put you in a group chat: you, your friend, and the unknown person.

the message read:

you know i’ve heard you loud and clear earlier.

baffled, you read the message and you took it upon yourself to respond:

i’m sorry. who’s this and how’d you get our numbers?

don’t act so coy. you girls like to tease me every week on those bikes.

•••

it’s driving me fucking crazy.

it dawns on you both that this unknown person was…your neighbor.

“oh…” you started.

“…shit.” your friend finished your thought and she responds in the chat.

we didn’t mean to tease! we just wanted to say hi real quick because you looked so busy.

“and so damn fine.” you mutter, eyes not pulling from the screen awaiting the next response.

•••

let’s cut to the chase. it’s obvious you want to—have your way with me. i feel the same way, so if you stunning young ladies wanna know how a real man does it, swing by my place in the next 10 minutes. ;)

•••

you said you want to fuck, so let’s fuck.

you both stare at your phones then at each other not knowing that as you were reading each word your thighs instinctively clenched together to hold in the arousal that was erupting between your legs. as if you were speaking telepathically, you both deserved to relieve some tension with one of the finest men on your street. you kept your end of the bargain because within ten minutes you’re both standing in anticipation at his front door. you were getting a taste of your own medicine as his sculpted figure leaned against the frame. one of his forearms supporting his body while his other hand “tries” to grasp onto the cotton towel that was lowering at his navel. he skips the formalities by using his large, two fingers to beckon you both into the house and you both simply follow his command.

a ménage a toi—who knew that this was a way to spend a friday evening?

[bigfan-fanfic]

Got A Problem With That? (Male!Reader x Dean Winchester)

@innerpiratefun Can you make a part 2 of Dean Winchester x Male Reader he's a mechanic in California, it's my favorite fic also could you include a part where Sam realizes the collar and says something to dean but dean doesn't take it off or something like that, btw love your fics

Here's PART 1

"He's good at that stuff. Maybe better than you." Dean smirks at his little brother.

Sam scoffs. Skeptical.

Dean chuckles, turning up the music.

They've left you back at the motel - there's no way you're letting Dean travel off alone for this journey, but you're also not skilled in monster hunting, so you've made yourself useful through research.

You're currently compiling a little database on monsters through research and the brothers' anecdotes.

You're not very happy about being dragged into a search for John Winchester, but you want to support Dean, who seems to have genuinely missed his brother.

Besides, apparently Sam tried to leave, but was driven into a deeper need for vengeance when his girlfriend was killed in the same way as their mom.

"You're pretty, ah, serious with him, yeah?" Sam asks again. In the two weeks since you started traveling together, Sam has asked this quite a few times.

"Yeah." Dean responds shortly - as he has each time. He knows their dad might be weird about it. Knows he and Sam weren't exactly raised to even know about sexuality besides heterosexuality.

They both know things, but it's still... awkward to see each other after so long and have to share that.

Dean's been wearing a leather jacket and many layers - trying a little harder not to let his collar show.

It's technically just a necklace, but it serves the same purpose.

You have a thicker leather one for play, but for just wearing, it's a black chain of twisted links attached to a black circle. It's not particularly noticeable, but it is distinctive.

"So... what's this?" Sam asks, reaching out and pointing at the necklace.

Dean tenses as if about to smack Sam's hand away, as if thinking he was going to touch the necklace. "Y/N gave it to me."

"Oh. It's... nice."

"Thanks."

Sam clears his throat, uncomfortable. "Looks kinda like a BDSM thing."

Dean winces. And that tells Sam all he needs to know.

He chuckles a little. "Wow, Dean."

"Shut up." Dean growls. He's not laughing.

"Jeez..." Sam smirks, happy to get under his skin. "I was just-"

"It's something special to my partner and me. That's all you need to know. And all I feel like telling you. Got it?"

"Okay."

The drive is unbearably awkward, especially on the way to take down another spirit.

"Dean?" Sam asks as they park.

"Yeah?" Dean asks gruffly.

"I'm... I'm happy you're that close with someone. I wanted to have what you have with... with Jess."

Dean shifts uncomfortably. But he doesn't protest or shy away - you've helped him learn to communicate and part of that is listening.

"So yeah. It's really cool that you have a partner you're so close to. You're a lot less of a douche than you were." Sam chuckles.

"Yeah. Th-thanks."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam makes to open his door. "How'd you pull a guy so much smarter than you, anyway?"

They leave the car, already more relaxed.

"Yeah, well, it's actually a funny story..."

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 6

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort

Part 6: “Just Casual”

A few days after the house fire that claimed the life of Paul Richardson, father of two, Chief Bobby Singer was joined in his office by Detectives Winchester and Novak, along with his resident Squad Captain and Truck Lieutenant, Benny and Dean.

“The Richardson fire has officially been determined an arson,” Bobby revealed.

“They found a time-delay incendiary device hidden in the attic. No fingerprints. But that’s not even the odd thing,” he said. “The medical examiner found a brand mark on his wrist that was inconsistent with his other burns. Which is why you’re here, I reckon.”

Bobby directed his gaze at both John and Cas, who didn’t look surprised to hear this news.

Dean raised a brow. His gaze shifted to his father, but John only met his stare for a moment before he answered Bobby’s unspoken question.

“We’ve been investigating a series of murders in the area over the past six months,” John said. “Each victim died in their home, with the same brand somewhere on their body. Typically the wrist, or the back of the neck.”

“So we officially have a serial killer turned arsonist on our hands,” Bobby concluded. His attention shifted to Benny and Dean. “Keep this close to the vest, but keep your eyes open.”

“Arsonists are hard to catch,” Dean said, looking to the detectives. “What do you know about this guy?”

Cas glanced at John. The older man could feel his stare, but had to ignore it for now.

“Not much as of yet,” John said. “Right now he’s a coil of smoke, if you’ll pardon the phrase. Our psychologist says he’s most likely a white male, statistically speaking. College educated, or at the very least intelligent, efficient, and so far, he thinks every step through. Like he said, no prints. But the brand is a message.”

“To who, and why, is what we’ve been trying to figure out,” Cas added. “We think that’s the key to pinpointing a suspect.”

“Really,” Dean said. He raised a brow and crossed his arms. “Six months, and that’s all you’ve got?”

“Dean,” John started, but the Lieutenant shook his head.

“Come on, Dad. I know you. Who is this guy?”

“Dean, this is the best I can give you right now, but believe me, we’re working on it,” John said, that tone that boded no further argument.

Bullshit, Dean wanted to shoot back. But he held his tongue for now. He knew that John wouldn’t budge. Instinct still told Dean that his father was holding something back though.

As the men filtered out of Bobby’s office, Dean held Cas back for a moment.

“Watch the old man’s back, all right,” Dean said. “He’s got a penchant for being reckless.”

Cas gave him a wry, pointed look. “I’m doing my best. Winchesters are a stubborn lot.” 

Dean smirked and walked out with him. Meg was headed inside, having just come in from an ambulance call. She smiled when she saw her boyfriend.

“Hey, lover,” she greeted. And she smacked his ass in front of God and the entire Rescue Squad, who liked to sit outside the firehouse and play cards at their table.

Ramirez and the others smirked and called out their customary whoops and cat calls. Dean smirked at the actual blushing discomfort that tightened up Cas’s face and shoulders.

“Dinner tonight at Casablanca’s, right?” Meg asked, unfazed by the catcalling peanut gallery.

“Right,” Cas said stiffly. But he still brushed her cheek with his thumb in affection. “See you later.”

“Yep,” she nodded, though she shot Dean a wry brow. “What? I stole your boyfriend. Get over it.”

She continued on her path back inside the firehouse, leaving Dean and Cas to stare after her in annoyance and begrudging fondness, respectively.

Dean turned to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good luck and Godspeed, my friend. That woman’s fuckin’ terrifying.” 

Cas gave him a lazy salute as he walked away. He found that John had already started up their police car. He was in the driver’s seat, as always, with a hand resting casually on the steering wheel.

Dean typically sat in much the same way. Cas thought both men were more comfortable in a car than anywhere else in life. Except, maybe, the precinct and the firehouse.

Cas slid into the passenger seat and gave his partner a knowing look.

“I still think you should tell Sam and Dean what’s really happening here,” he said.

John looked over at him with an almost unreadable expression. But they had been partners for a few years now; long enough for Cas to get a read on the older veteran.

“I understand why you want to keep them out of this, but now this guy is starting fires. Here, in Dean’s district,” Cas pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be safer for him if he had clearer eyes walking into the next one?”

If, God forbid, something should go wrong on the next call Dean responded to, John would never forgive himself. Both he and Cas knew this, but John never answered his partner’s question. He didn’t want his sons getting their noses in this just yet, even if it meant the worry he saw in Dean’s eyes.

So he put the car in “drive” and peeled away from the firehouse.

Trying to match your schedule with Dean’s was a challenge you two were trying to figure out. Though you’d fallen into a pattern of talking on the phone to fill the void when you two couldn’t meet.

Even after almost two more weeks and a third date, you were pleasantly surprised that you and Dean still had plenty to talk about. You told him more about your childhood with your grandparents, while he told you funny stories about him and Sam growing up with their dad, though he was often gone while working on cases.

It was family friend and Fire Chief, Bobby Singer who looked after them whenever John couldn’t, or his old partner Jody Mills, or even Ellen Harvelle, owner of the Roadhouse.

The more you learned about Dean, the more invested you became. And he listened to you when you went on tangents about new recipes you wanted to try out (as long as he got to be your official Taste Tester).

You two argued, playfully and fervently, about music. And you’d been creating a list of old shows the other hadn’t seen, but absolutely needed to.

Dean had suggested Dukes of Hazzard, for example, while you suggested Smallville. You each only agreed to put up with this list if you two watched it together. (Needless to say, there would be some marathon binge watching in your future.)

You particularly took notice though, when Dean invited you to join him at the Roadhouse to meet Cas, one of his best friends, and his girlfriend Meg. You’d invited Andréa to come along, and even Dean’s friend Benny, who she’d also been seeing ever since that night at the Roadhouse.

Apparently, the couple had their own plans.

You tried not to feel some type of way about her brush-off, but your friend had been increasingly distant since she met Benny Lafitte. However, you supposed you couldn’t judge. You hadn’t been calling her as much either, ever since you met Dean.

You knew that if you kept dating him, some adjustments would have to come in your life. You also promised yourself that you’d never be someone who forgot your friends for a man…even for a man like Dean Winchester.

Tonight, however, you’d come directly from work to meet him at the bar. It made more sense than to make him come pick you up from your house, so you sat with a ginger ale while you waited. He’d promised you via text that he was on the way, just stuck in traffic.

Okay, drive safe. 😘 Don’t speed, please.

You knew how he liked floor the Impala with that damn lead foot of his.

No promises. 🏎️

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you were smiling unconsciously as you read his reply.

You were soon knocked out of your thoughts when a smooth voice said your name. You looked up and to your right, and there stood a familiar face. The man greeted you with an easy smile as he sat down next to you.

“I thought that was you,” he said. He reached out his hand and re-introduced himself. “Gordon Walker. Not sure if you remember me.”

“Oh, yes! Of course I do, Gordon,” you smiled and shook his hand.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said. His dark eyes subtly took you in from head to toe in your skirt, heels, and blouse. “Though I’ve gotta admit, I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Ah, right,” you said. “Well—”

Before you could explain, Gordon held up a finger as he noticed your drink of choice.

“Oh, wait a sec. Let me get you something stronger than soda,” he said. He started to flag down Jo, but you shook your head and made a cutting motion with your hand.

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” you said. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“What?” Gordon asked.

It was getting busy in the bar, making it loud enough that you could understand why he hadn’t heard you. You leaned over towards his ear.

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you said, raising your voice a bit. Gordon leaned in even closer and chanced resting a hand above your knee.

“You sure?” he asked. He gave you a smile that was all smooth sex appeal and confidence, without being arrogant.

It was undoubtedly attractive, but you were more shocked than charmed in your blush. You instinctively leaned back when you felt his hand on your thigh. Your hand clenched on the counter.

While your brain scrambled to figure out a response that would successfully remove it (without snapping rudely like you were itching to), a hand slipped along your lower back.

You jolted a bit in your seat with a flare of unease, until you turned your head and found Dean.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, and dropped a kiss at your hairline. He also clapped a heavy hand on Gordon’s shoulder and squeezed. The other man graciously got the hint and leaned back, withdrawing his hand from your thigh.

“Hi,” you said, finally able to breathe a bit easier. You gave Dean a smile, and he returned it.

He looked over at his friend with a sharper smile. “Hey, Gord. How’s your night goin’?”

“Good.” Gordon nodded, now with a knowing gleam in his eye. “Though I’m sure your night’s gonna go better.”

You weren’t sure how to take that remark, considering the way Dean reacted with a tighter expression and pursed lips. Then, they flickered at a smile.

“Well, we’re meeting up with Meg and Cas in a minute. You should join us,” Dean said. Even though his tone wasn’t so very inviting. The two men seemed to have a wordless conversation between the lines that you couldn’t decipher.

Gordon shook his head, but raised his drink. “No worries, you guys hang. I’m leaving in a few.”

“All right. Let us know if you change your mind,” Dean said. He thumped Gordon once more on the back, more friendly this time.

Dean’s other hand slipped around your waist. He tapped you on the side.

“Come on, I’ve got us a table. It’s quieter,” he said.

You nodded and slid out of your seat. You offered Gordon a polite smile, even if you’d rather not.

“Have a good night,” you said.

The other man’s smile was less flirtatious and more polite this time as well.

“You too,” he said. 

Dean helped you onto your feet, like the gentleman he was, and he continued to lead you away from the bar with a hand on the small of your back. You instinctively pressed against his side to squeeze past the throng of patrons.

When you reached a high-top table in the corner, he pulled out your chair and held your hand as you climbed up in your skirt. You thanked him with a more genuine smile. Though once he was seated next to you, you leaned towards him and laid a hand on his arm, which rested on the table.

“I tried to tell him I was waiting for you. He took me by surprise,” you whispered.

Dean’s brows rose, but his face soon evened out with a smile. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t worry about it. He didn’t know about us,” he said. “He was shootin’ his shot…a bit aggressively. Sorry about that.”

“Oh…it’s okay. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you replied. Though butterflies ran through your belly when you considered what us meant.

You noted his frown at what you’d said though, and so you aimed to change the subject.

“But Cas and Meg know, right?” you asked.

Dean nodded. His frown started to lift. “Yeah. Cas is one of my best friends. Meg is…well. She’s the little sister I wish I didn’t have.”

You shook your head in amusement. Then you let out a squeal as Dean hooked a foot around the leg of your chair and brought you closer. He stopped you from becoming too unbalanced by wrapping an arm around your waist. You clenched your hands into the open panels of his plaid shirt, and his charming smile greeted you.

“Hi,” he said.

You laughed. “Yeah, you mentioned that earlier.”

“Well, I’m doing it right this time,” he said. And he dipped down for a lingering kiss.

Across the bar was Jo Harvelle, doing her job behind the counter. She poured five shots in succession and doled them out to a party of frat bros without even looking.

Her eyes were drawn to the back corner of the bar, where you and Dean sat closely together, exchanging whispers and the occasional steamy kiss.

“Mind your business,” came Ellen’s whisper in her ear.

Jo whipped her head to glare softly at her mother, but she saw Ellen’s point. It was both obvious and pathetic of her to stare.

Despite the unease making her feel a bit sick to her stomach, Jo went over to Gordon down at the end. His sympathetic smile bothered her; she knew then she hadn’t just been caught by her mother.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” he remarked.

“What?” Jo said. She began wiping down his area of the counter. “Would it kill you to keep it in the glass?”

Gordon gave her an amused look as he sat back in his seat. His tumbler of whiskey was drained.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” he said.

Both of them knew he wasn’t apologizing for the spill.

Jo’s brows knitted together, mostly in annoyance. “Again, for what?”

“I know it’s gotta be hard to see him actually moving on,” he replied.

Her lips pursed, and her eyes darted to the back of the room again. She stared for a moment at the side of your face.

“Knowing him, whatever it is won’t last,” she muttered.

Gordon hissed at the "burn," with a deep chuckle. She knew her words weren’t kind, but it was how she felt.

“That may be,” he allowed. “But he’s not just chasing tail anymore. That’s what scares you.” 

Gordon dropped a nice tip for her next to his glass. He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and left Jo with the churning in her gut.

Cas and Meg finally arrived a few minutes later.

Dean knew you’d been to the Roadhouse before, but this was different. You were meeting some of his friends, and he realized how much he wanted you to. He felt…comfortable around you. And he wanted his friends to know you, and to like you.

“As you know, Meg’s our Paramedic in Charge over at 25,” he began, gesturing at the woman as she got settled in her seat.

You admired her long brown hair, tall boots, and black leather jacket. She seemed to ooze confidence and dark charisma as she tossed you a smirk.

“Guilty,” she said.

You smiled back. Dean gestured at her boyfriend next, clad in a beige trench coat, slacks, and blazer.

“And Cas, who bravely suffers being my dad’s partner on the job.”

Cas nodded wryly at the introduction. His dark hair and blue eyes were striking, you could admit. His tie was loose and slightly rumpled. Along with the stubble coating his face, he was handsome, if a bit scruffy. It was hard for you to believe he’d earned the top scores his year in the Police Academy, but you supposed that looks could be deceiving.

“What’s that like?” you asked with a smirk. “From what I’ve heard about John Winchester, he sounds like he’s a bit of a hard-ass.”

Dean barked with a dry laugh. “An understatement.”

“He has a crab-like shell,” Cas agreed. “But he has a soft center where it counts, not unlike his sons.”

You turned to Dean with a more teasing smile. “Aww…”

He rolled his eyes, even though his arm, which had been draped across the back your chair, now dropped to curl around your waist.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Columbo,” he remarked at his blue-eyed friend.

Always had to get the last dig in, it seemed, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little along with Meg at Cas’s expense.

“You guys all seem really close,” you said. It was nice for you to see.

Dean shrugged like it was no big deal. Or rather, like it was commonplace.

“Well, maybe family ain’t just about blood,” he said.

Meg rolled her eyes. “Ugh. What a friggin’ sap.”

“You love it,” Dean grinned. She smiled, begrudgingly.

Family ain’t just about blood.

You liked that sentiment as well. It seemed to be true here. 

Even Ellen Harvelle treated Dean like a son when she came over to greet your table. She kissed his cheek and gave Meg and Cas’s shoulders a squeeze. Even you got a warm hand on your shoulder when she introduced herself.

“Welcome, hun. I understand it’s not your first time here, but if you got any questions on the menu, you let me know,” she said.

Dean shot you a conspiratorial smile, and it got you wondering what he was about to do.

“I mean, I don’t know why you don’t put the order in for chili fries the second you see me come through the door,” he teased. “Come on, Ellen. How long’ve I been coming here? Since before I had a license?”

Ellen narrowed her eyes and flicked the side of Dean’s head, regardless of his flinching protest.

“Don’t you go sayin’ that so damn loud,” she reproached. “You never drank underage at my bar.”

His eyes averted with a smile, in a way that told you Ellen was a damn liar. You bit your lip to try and hide your smile.

“Anyway, I’ll get your damn fries—”

“And a beer,” Dean interjected. She rolled her eyes.

“And a beer. Four?” she pointed at the rest of you, and you, Cas, and Meg nodded in agreement.

“All right, four beers. Anything else, darlin’?” She looked at you with a mother’s charm.

You looked up from the menu and unconsciously smiled.

“Um, sure. Can I get the chicken sandwich?”

She patted your shoulder. “You sure can.”

Ellen then took the rest of their orders without writing a thing down. You were impressed by her memory. At the end though, Dean didn’t let her go without a hand on her arm.

“Thanks, Ellen,” he said with a more sincere smile.

“A-huh,” she replied, with all due sarcasm. But there was a fondness in her eyes that was hard to miss when she playfully grabbed the back of his neck. “Knucklehead.”

A giggle escaped you, and Ellen tossed you a wink before she went to put in the orders and get the drinks.

Conversation flowed easier when the alcohol came. One beer became two, and even three (four, for Meg). By then, you were sure it was one beer too many for yourself, but you didn’t want to be the odd one out. You were mostly listening to the three of them bounce back and forth between reminiscing with old stories and roasting one another mercilessly.

It was hilarious and entertaining, but you were trying not to get caught in the crosshairs of the volleying. Inevitably though, Meg’s attention turned to you with a certain sly smile.

“You must be real special,” she remarked, gesturing at Dean. “He usually doesn’t bring his girls around here, where he actually likes to hang out. Guess that’d mean he’d have to see ‘em again with the lights on.”

You blinked in surprise.

“Meg,” Dean’s voice cut like a warning.

Your eyes widened as you took in the change, his deeper voice, his more serious gaze, versus Meg’s nonchalance. Even Cas gave her a chiding look.

“Not sure I want to know what that means,” you tried to joke.

But you could guess. It was fairly obvious.

You glanced over at Dean, whose lips pursed. Before either of you could say anything more, Meg chimed in.

“Oooh, is this gonna be your first fight?” she teased.

Dean’s brows furrowed with a glare. “That’s enough.”

“And that’s our cue,” Cas nodded. He’d already slipped out his wallet as soon as his girlfriend started talking. He left a generous few bills to cover their half of the night, plus tip, and got up out of his seat. He claimed his coat and then encouraged Meg off her chair.

“What? I’m not done with my beer,” she protested.

“I think you are,” Cas said.

Meg scoffed, but she allowed his manhandling as he wrapped a supportive arm around her waist.

“You’re not the boss of me, Clarence,” she snipped.

“Certainly not,” he agreed. “But you’re a lightweight. Time to go home, before you insult the entire bar.”

“You’re no fucking fair,” she groused, hitting his chest over his jacket. Cas leveled you and Dean with a long-suffering look of apology.

Dean waved him off with a “no sweat it” look and a shake of his head. Meg annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, especially when she was drunk. He turned to you with a sigh.

“Again, sorry about that. I didn’t think I’d have to apologize for my friends more than once tonight,” he said.

You shook your head. “It’s...okay. Overall, they were really fun.”

Dean scoffed. “I don’t think Cas has been called fun even once in his life.”

You smiled in amusement, but Meg’s words still swirled around in your head like heady wine.

“Dean,” you began, but your attempt to broach the issue was cut off by his cell phone ringing. He gave you an apologetic look and fished in his pocket for his phone. His brows rose when he saw the caller ID.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I gotta take this,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay—” You’d barely nodded when Dean was up and out of his chair, heading out of the bar. You could still see him through one of the faded glass doors as he held the phone up to his ear.

It was late, and quieter now. A blonde server came to take your plates, and you actually remembered her.

“Oh, hi! Jo, right?” you asked. She hesitated when you spoke, but she bobbed her head.

“That’s me,” she said. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” you said with a smile. “I met your mom. She’s really nice.”

Jo uttered a wry laugh as she stacked the plates and silverware. You helped her collect the silverware and empty beer bottles.

“Yeah, when you get her good side,” she replied. 

You smirked at that, remembering how Ellen snapped back and forth with Dean. You had no doubt that woman could be a pistol if you pissed her off.

“Well, it's nice here,” you admitted, once again taking stock of the décor. The music, the warm lighting, the good food… “It’s cozy.”

Jo’s smile quirked to one side as she paused.

“Well, it’s been in my family for three generations of Harvelles,” she said. “This was my father’s favorite place in the world.”

You caught the note of melancholy in her words, in her eyes.

“Was?” you echoed. She met your gaze and nodded.

“He was a firefighter,” she said. “He died on the job.”

You dimmed considerably. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jo only nodded.

“How did he…” Your curiosity got the best of you, but you soon shook your head and backtracked. “Never mind, you don’t have to explain.”

“It was a fire that wasn’t properly vented,” Jo answered your half-spoken question. Her blue eyes were heavier. “He got caught in an updraft…but he actually worked at Firehouse 25. He was their brother. That’s why this’ll always be their place.”

You processed that with a slow nod of wonder.

“It’s good that you and your mom will always have that support,” you said eventually. “Even though…it might be hard too, to always be reminded.”

Jo’s lips quirked again. “It’s more the first one, but…sometimes the second one. A lot of these guys have known me since I had braces. It’s hard to shake that perpetual little sister thing.”

You smiled at that. “Yeah, I’d imagine that gets old real quick. A bunch of over-protective older brothers.”

“Overbearing, more like,” she scoffed. You laughed.

Unconsciously, you glanced over to the front of the bar, where you saw Dean still on the phone. You remembered the second date you were meant to have, when he was late due to a five-car pileup his team responded to.

You remembered that night he called you for the first time, after a long day he didn’t want to tell you about. He’d let you distract him instead. All the while, it had you wondering what he’d seen. What he’d responded to that day.

Had it been another car accident? A fire? What made someone as upbeat and funny and smooth as Dean seem to lose all the life in his voice?

Though while you were lost in your thoughts, Jo was watching you.

Jealousy roiled inside her, unbidden. She didn’t want to hate you, because unlike the girls Dean usually messed around with, you had some self-respect. Jo heard Meg’s snide clips at you earlier, and no one could fake the surprise in your eyes. Unless you were just that good a damn actor…

But no, she didn’t get that vibe from you.

It didn’t mean she had to like you though. 

“You’re right to think twice,” Jo said, earning your attention back with a swivel of your head. “What Meg said…she wasn’t wrong. Dean’s broken a few hearts, if you catch my drift.”

Just a few well-placed words, Jo thought. She realized then that she had the power to twist the wrench here, widening the gap between you and Dean. Feed your doubts.

She didn’t have to feel bad about it if it was the truth.

And yet…she saw the way your gaze fell. The disappointment setting in, the anxious clench of your hands on the table. You glanced over at Dean again out of the corner of your eye.

Jo realized then just what she was doing, not just to Dean, but to herself.

You’re not some petty bitch, she dully reminded herself.

“But,” she found herself adding. You raised your gaze back to her. Jo let out a subtle breath.

“It’s not always his fault,” she admitted. And maybe she was speaking a bit too much from experience. “The job demands a lot from him.”

Slowly, you nodded. You looked pensive, but not like you’d made up your mind.

Fine, Jo thought, as she collected the dishes and left your table.

She didn’t know if she wanted to sway you one way or the other on taking a chance on Dean Winchester.   

While you were talking to Jo, Dean was taking his father’s unexpected call.

“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” he said.

“Hey, son. How are ya?” John’s voice was gruff and tired. Dean frowned to hear it.

“I’m good. I’m out right now, but did you need something?”

“Have you responded to any fires lately?”

“You mean like the Richardson fire?” Dean asked pointedly. “No, haven’t had one since. And no cattle prod brandings either.”

“All right, good. Just checking in.”

Good? Dean thought. John would be chomping at the bit for a new arson. If he was “just checking in,” then he was worried about something. Is he worried about me?

“What’s going on? Is there something I need to know?” Dean asked in suspicion. This was why he had taken the call. “Seriously, you can tell me. I’m not even gonna bitch at you like Sam does.”

John chuckled. But then he hesitated. Dean knew he’d hit on something.

“Dad?” he pressed.

John’s sigh was a heavy one. “Okay. What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.”

Dean’s brows furrowed in trepidation. “Okay, fine. What the hell is it?”

“Richardson, the father of two?” John reminded. “He was a lawyer, linked to a money laundering scheme through a company called Stull Storage. It’s an old company, dates back to the seventies.”

“Okay…” 

As John continued to explain, the more confused Dean became… 

About 30 years ago, John Winchester had been a young, but promising officer in the Narcotics division. He’d married young, and by then was just barely clearing the five-year mark. Already he had the house he’d inherited from his wife’s parents, a four-year-old son, and a newborn.

Stull Storage’s units were used by a drug ring that John had been trying to infiltrate, undercover. Those units had stored cocaine, illegal weapons, and other flavors of contraband, mostly from South America (and back).

“We got close to breaking that case, once, but after the fire…I transferred out of Narcotics, as you know,” John said.

Dean knew the real story there. After his mom died, his father went into a spiral, trying to find whoever set that fire—even after the Fire Department found no evidence of arson. John had eventually been forced out of Narcotics. He requested Homicide.

As he’d told Dean once when he was extremely drunk: I seem to do better at my job when the bodies are already dead.

“Now I know that I was right about your mother’s death,” John said.

Dean released a shaky sigh. “Aw, man. Not this again, Dad. For Christ’s sake.”

“There was something wrong about that fire, Dean,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over Dean’s objections. “I just didn’t find the connection…until now.”

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. His gaze fell to the ground. Sam was usually the one who drew a hard line at hearing any more about their mom’s supposed murder, but now Dean had reached the end of his tether. It was too much.

He glanced back through the glass doors to make sure you were okay. He saw you talking to Jo, and he frowned at himself.

Here you were, waiting on him back in the bar, and his dad was calling him in the middle of the night, chasing ghosts again.

“Look…it’s been my whole damn life with this.” Dean held the phone to his ear with one hand, and rubbed at his forehead with the other. “I just can’t do this with you anymore.”    

“Dean, listen,” John urged. “You wanna know what I’m digging into, this is it. I got Mary’s file unsealed.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What? Thought you couldn’t do that without new evidence and a court order.”

“Well, I’ve got the evidence…maybe I was a bit impatient with the court order.”

Dean rolled his eyes. His father liked to play a little fast and loose with the rules.

“At the time, the medical examiner dismissed it. She’d been burned…” John paused on a deeper breath. “But I saw it. Mary had a burn on her wrist. It was the same brand found on Richardson. On Jerry Stillwell, CPA. Amanda Waller, journalist. It’s all connected, Dean. How they’re connected to one another, I’m not sure yet. We’re still digging…but I do know this. Richardson was a message.”

Dean’s back hit the wall of the Roadhouse. His brows furrowed as he struggled to digest everything John was saying.

“A message?” he asked. “To who?”

“To me, I think. Those kids, and their mother…you got ‘em out alive, but they weren’t meant to,” John said, his voice sounding heavy. "The wife told me her husband was erratic when he got home, holding his wrist. He'd been burned before the fire. He wouldn't say what happened...then they smelled the goddamn smoke."

"Shit," Dean replied. He leaned heavily against the wall, pressing a hand to his forehead. There was an ache starting between his eyes.

“Yeah," John agreed. "The drug ring I was investigating, when I was in Narcotics. I was getting close. And I mean close. I was about to get the Big Kahuna. The kingpin of the whole operation…and then the house fire.”

Fuck. Dean wiped at his mouth anxiously as he realized what John was saying. Fuck.

“He burned me, Dean. He must have,” John said. Meaning, the drug lord he was trying to pin down somehow discovered his identity. “Your mom paid the price of that.”

“Who is this guy?” Dean asked. His hand holding the phone was starting to tremble.

“I still don’t know his real name. Workin’ on that one too,” John said. “But they called him Azazel.”

When Dean eventually hung up with his father and returned to you at the bar, he saw you brighten. But you soon dimmed with a tinge of worry. Something of his thoughts must’ve shown on his face.

Shit. He tried his best to school his features.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he said, grasping your shoulder. “I’ll take you home.”

“I met you here, remember?” you asked.

Dean paused, then shook his head. Get it together, asshole.

“Right," he said. "Well, I’ll walk you to your car. Let me just pay real quick.”

After he sorted out the bill (he didn’t know that you’d slipped in an extra $30 in Cas’s stack for your part), he led you out, saying goodbye to Ellen and Jo while you went.

You hesitated when the two of you got to the car. Something wasn’t right with him. And both Jo and Meg’s words still rolled back and forth through your head.

“Dean, are you okay? Who was it on the phone?” you asked.

“I’m fine. It was just my dad, called to have me take a look at his car. We were just arguing about our schedules…I’m sure you can relate,” he replied, trying at a smile.

You weren’t sure if you believed him. Though he was nearly convincing, he was also shifting on his feet, hands in his pockets. His gaze roamed away from yours, above your head and over your shoulder.

“Um, I might’ve had a beer too many,” you said with a half-chuckle. “Could you walk with me for a bit? Just until my head clears enough to drive.”

“I could take you home,” Dean offered.

“And leave my car here?” you asked. In a public parking lot behind a bar?

You shook your head and pointed down the road.

“Just there and back…but if you need to go, I guess I could just sit in my car for a while.”

Dean shook his head with a frown. He couldn’t tell you that a damn serial killer was on the loose.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s a relatively safe neighborhood, but not so much at night. Not by yourself.”

He laid a hand on your back to start walking with you, but his hand soon fell back to his side. You glanced at him, but he looked straight ahead, unusually quiet and reserved.

It felt like he was checking out of this night with you. Like he just wanted to usher you into the car and leave. Did he just not want to deal with what Meg said?

“You must be real special,” she remarked, gesturing at Dean. “He usually doesn’t bring his girls around here, where he actually likes to hang out. Guess that’d mean he’d have to see ‘em again with the lights on.”

Letting out a breath, you tried to see if you could broach the subject.

“It was nice to meet some more of your friends,” you said, and with a nervous laugh, “even if it did get awkward there at the end.”

Dean finally looked over at you.

“We never exactly talked about what each of us was looking for,” you said. “What we were really doing here.” 

You stood your ground, but you tried not to look censuring. Just open to whatever he might have to say. Even so, unease churned inside you.

Dean sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Look, she wasn’t exactly wrong about me.”

You considered that with a nod, biting the inside of your lip.

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” you asked. Dean gave a humorless huff of a laugh. This really was the last thing he wanted to get into tonight, but he had a feeling he had no choice.

“A few months ago, for about a minute,” he said. “But uh, before then…never.”

Together, you began to cross the street while the cars on either side waited at the red light. Pedestrians had the right of way for the next 30 seconds. You looked over at him and steeled yourself.

“Dean, is this is something casual for you?”

“Define casual,” he attempted to joke (or to deflect). Though the bravado fell the moment he saw that look on your face: tight and disappointed…and hurt.  

He reached for your hand, but you weren’t having it. You slipped away from him and continued walking at a more brusque clip, even in those platform heels.  

“Okay, hold on.” He quickly followed after you and tugged you back by the hand. It had you both stopping in the middle of the crosswalk.  

Dean squeezed your hand and peered into your eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry. Don’t close up on me,” he implored. “…Please.”

Despite your better judgment, and your pursed lips, you waited. Something told you this man didn’t often say please.

“The truth is, I’m trying to do something different here with you. I don’t think we would’ve made it to date #4 if we were just casual,” he said. “I’m not playing games either.”

You wanted to trust that he was serious. Once again, your mind and your heart were at odds; the former told you to be wary, while the latter told you to trust the earnestness in his eyes.

Your heart won. “Okay, Dean.”

“Yeah?” he asked, with hopeful brows raised.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

You finally smiled. And you leaned up, resting a hand against his chest, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His stubble was coarse, but familiar against your lips.

Dean turned his head and leaned in for a proper kiss. His hands found the curve of your waist and brought you closer against his chest. You both sunk deeper into it, your lips gliding as your head tilted into the kiss…

Until a horn honked loudly, making you both jolt at the sound.

The streetlight was green, and several cars were waiting for you to cross. You snorted in amusement, leading Dean to grin down at you. He tugged you back into step with him across the street.

Again, you hesitated at your car. Dean was more himself as he’d held your hand all the way back.

He now held your car door open while you threw in your purse. But when you turned back to him, you still saw something brooding behind his eyes.

You drew near and grasped the open edges of his shirt. This man wore a lot of plaid when he was out of uniform, always with an undershirt. Tonight it was green plaid on gray, complete with some faded jeans and a pair of boots. This was the only “casual” way in which you wanted Dean.  

“Hey,” you started.

“Hmm?” he replied, holding you by your arms.

“I get that we haven’t known each other all that long. So you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you said. “But did something happen when you stepped out? When you talked to your dad?”

Dean paused. His eyes, a pale green under the streetlamp, flicked to yours.

“I just want to know that you’re okay,” you said. “And if you’re not, that’s okay too.”

After a moment to blink in surprise, your earnestness got to him. His grip moved down your arms, and he took one of your hands. His dad’s warning echoed through his mind.

What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.

Dean knew his dad didn’t make demands without a reason, even if he wasn’t typically so forthcoming with them. But Dean drew enough courage to be as honest as he could be. You deserved that much, after everything you'd put up with tonight.

“My mom died...when I was about four,” he said. “It was a house fire.”

Your eyes widened. All this time, you’d assumed his mother had passed away. You hadn’t expected that, though. You squeezed his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, and you meant it. Dean just shook his head.

“It was ruled an accident. Really they just didn’t have much evidence either way,” he continued. “But uh, my dad’s been obsessed with the idea that it wasn’t. That someone started the fire on purpose… Well, today, he might’ve found his proof.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could, but in the end, he just couldn’t. His chest was tight. Saying those words out loud made them real, and he wasn’t sure of how to handle it.  

“Oh, Dean,” you said, starting and stopping, as you struggled to formulate a response that wasn’t just “I’m sorry,” or “Are you okay?” 

He clearly wasn’t. You also didn’t want to give him platitudes like, “That’s crazy,” or the ever-inspired: “Wow.” 

Or some other variation of what you’re supposed to say. You wanted to give him something honest. Something real. 

So you curled your hands around his arms, earning his gaze.

“You must be reeling right now,” you said. “Do you think he’s onto something this time?”  

“I don’t know what to think,” said Dean. “I’ve been pressing him for answers, but…honestly? I wish he hadn’t told me a damn thing.” 

You didn’t know what to say to that. You were surprised that he actually confided in you with this. But the only thing you could think to do was lean up on your toes and slip your arms around his neck. You hugged him, warm and tight. 

You couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling, but you just wanted him to know that someone was there for him. You were there for him. 

Dean eventually hugged you back. He held you, reassuring you as well as himself. He blew out a cathartic breath, and his hand came up to cup the back of your head. His lips tugged upwards.

“You’re a sweetheart, you know that?” he said. 

A smile spread across your face. Your fingers soothed through his hair gently. You pressed your lips into his neck.

“I aim to please,” you said against his skin.

Dean smiled more fully at that. The new warmth in his chest warred against the roiling in his stomach. Despite his best efforts, his smile faded.

His mom’s killer was still out there.

The thought was haunting his mind, and he knew it probably would for many nights to come.

So for now, he’d just hold you a bit tighter.

AN: 🥲 I honestly didn't mean it to end so angsty, but Dean finally got some much-needed hurt/comfort there! What did you think of how Jo handled her jealous side? And Gordon "shooting his shot" lol.

Coming soon in Part 7, we finally get to a huge milestone between these two lovebirds, with a side helping of baking shenanigans. 😏❤️‍🔥

Next Time:

“Ey, ey!” he raised a warning finger with his free hand. “You’re about to take this to a new level.”

You met his gaze through your lashes with a playful smile. “So?”

Dean raised a brow at you. He could admit, you had audacity. All he could do was call your bluff.

He took one of your battered fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widened at the feel of his soft tongue swirling around your finger, sucking it clean. All the while, his eyes never broke from yours.

Lord have mercy, you thought. Really, it was the only coherent one in your head.

Keep Reading: PART 7

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

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[jxydiel]

Dean winchester x male!reader

Note : I’m just writing to pass some time nothing serious but I hope you will still enjoy

English is not my first language sorry if there’s mistakes

Dean comes to pick up drunk (Y/N) from a work gathering.

.

.

.

(Y/N) was about to pass out, slumped over a table in a restaurant whose name he didn't even know. His colleagues made him drink in abundance when he didn’t wanted to go at this gathering in the first place. They played stupid games and a girl confessed her feelings for him. That’s all he could remember at the moment. That was surprisingly a lot. His tie was in the way and he undid it in a clumsy gesture before looking around him. Everyone had vanished. Only empty or half-drunk glasses decorated the table with loneliness. (Y/N) wouldn’t lie, it did worried him but his sleepiness was way more intense and his head went back on the hard and cold wood. Bobby will definitely be mad to see him come back home in this state.

Bobby adopted (Y/N) when he was a teenager since he knew his biological parents who died during a hunt. That’s how (Y/N) became so close with the Winchester. He didn’t really grew up with them since he got adopted at the time Sam went to college and Dean was hunting with John but he saw them way too often. At first, when they met, (Y/N) didn’t like Dean. He was too arrogant, too… (Y/N) didn’t really knew, he was just too Dean. (Y/N) realised way later that he was probably annoyed at the fact he loved him way much more than he should. Dean was way too perfect in his eyes. He loved him but Dean would never in return. At least not as something other than Bobby’s adopted son, so as a so called lil’bro.

(Y/N) head started to hurt and his vision made him have doubts about reality. Actually, all his colleagues abandoned him there. It was really a surprise. He never had been the most liked. On the contrary, The girl, she was quite popular at the office so some of them left with jealousy but the most abandoned him because he rejected her. At least it would be a better excuse than just the fact they disliked him. (Y/N) didn’t reject her in a harsh way just in honesty. He liked someone else for so many years now. But I guess his colleagues didn’t see it the same. The girl cried and made herself the victim so everyone supported her and saw (Y/N) as a villain. Obviously, no one would help a drunk villain right ?

One of the barman went to (Y/N) and checked on him. He shook him, going from gently to briskly, but nothing (Y/N) didn’t regained consciousness. (Y/N) wasn’t even feeling anything. The bartender sighed and picked up the customer's phone. Unfortunately, he had a habit of calling the relatives to pick up his terrible customers. The barman went stray to the emergency contact and didn’t hesitate. The other responded quickly at his pleasure and he explained the situation quite annoyed.

On the other side, Dean wasn’t expecting this situation. He was about to finally go to sleep after his terribly long day and now he was back on the road. This is probably one of the routes where he drove the impala at its highest speed. Before leaving, Dean warned Sammy that he was going to get (Y/N) and the brother didn’t asked much more. He was used to it by now. It wasn’t the first time it happened. Dean leaving at whenever hours of the day to help (Y/N). The older Winchester arrived not long after the call and went stray to (Y/N)’s table. The man looked in an awful shape and that made Dean frustrated, probably anger. He took a chair and sat next to him.

- “(Y/N), I’m here.” Started Dean softly.

The other turned his head in the direction of the voice with implacable slowness. He thought he was dreaming. Dean couldn't be there, he was in another state normally. The barman gave the phone back to Dean that thanked him in the background. (Y/N) was just sitting awkwardly his eyes fixed on Dean. He realised the situation and felt ashamed. He bothered Dean. The person with maybe the most things to do in this world. Dean was on a case with Sammy he couldn’t be here, even more at this hour he should be resting. He couldn’t just drive here and take care of him like that. (Y/N) wasn’t the happiest when he drank, that was a fact.

Dean looked at the other with sad eyes and made him sat straight. (Y/N) played with his tie again and Dean helped to take it off.

- “I’m driving you home, let’s go.”

Dean picked the other up easily and placed (Y/N)´s arm around his shoulder. (Y/N) didn’t helped much and staggered with difficulty.

- “Come on buddy, help me a bit”

Dean gently sat him down in the car before going back to his own seat. The other didn’t even said anything since he was here and it worried him more than he could admit. They both sat there in silence for a while. The Winchester also couldn’t take his eyes off the man.

- “What happened ?” The taller one continued.

- “Nothing serious.” (Y/N)’s voice was sore and difficult to hear.

- “You expect me to believe that ?”

- “It’s the truth. I was at a gathering that’s all. I didn’t know the bartender would call you. You shouldn’t be here. You should have declined, they would have called someone else.”

- “I’m glad they called me. How else would you have gotten home? Call who else ? Do you have any friends other than us ? I don’t think so. Don’t you ever think ? Drunk as you are right now something could have happened to you.” Dean’s voice sounded harsher than what he would have like it to be.

- “I’m sorry.” (Y/N) was only watching at his hands while he played with them, stressed. “I didn’t wanted to bother you.” The conversation was uncomfortable and felt so far away in his state.

- “come on, you’re never bothering me sweetheart. That wasn’t what I was implying. I’m just worried about you.”

- “I know it wasn’t what you were saying. But I’m still a burden to you Dean. You have more important things to do than that. I’m not a kid you need to take care of. Gosh I hate this.”

- “But, you’re the most important” replied Dean deeply serious.

- “That’s not true and you know that” (Y/N) didn’t liked the answer.

- “That’s not true for you but that’s true for me” the anger of the taller one kept on increasing.

- “Don’t say things you don’t mean Dean. Not things like that. Don’t mess with me.”

(Y/N)‘s head wasn’t clear at all at the moment. He didn’t knew how to think correctly. Dean could mean it but not in the way he wished he did. (Y/N) was convinced Dean though he was the most important just because Bobby ordered the boys to always look after him. It was nothing more, nothing less. Dean couldn’t love him.

- “Drive me to a motel, Bobby can’t see me in this state he will got mad and it’s not good for his heart.” (Y/N) stated coldly.

Dean started ‘baby’ without a word and drove to where he was ordered. (Y/N) took out his pack of cigarettes off his pocket and light up one. Dean looked at him in disbelief and took it from him before throwing it out off the window.

- “Dean come on !”

- “We have a rule. Not in my car and I stop bothering you with it.”

- “It’s expensive, you could have just told me to turn it off.” (Y/N) was definitely more than pissed off.

- “just quit smoking it’s easier.” Dean was being deadly serious. He hated it.

- “You’re a funny guy, you know. You quit drinking.”

- “Quit drinking first if you end up like this every time.”

- “I told you I didn’t wanted to. It’s just work. I had to or I will be a paria or some stuff like that.”

- “I believe you’re already one honey.” Dean was actually joking on this but how (Y/N)’s colleagues were treating him was worrying him.

Dean sighed deeply. He didn’t knew how to help the other. He knew something was up with (Y/N) for some time now but when he tried to get the end of it (Y/N) pushed him away every time. On the contrary, Sammy knew more on the subject. Dean was convinced on that. The eyes of Sammy were always implying something when it comes to (Y/N). Like a big secret that the big brother was the only one not knowing. (Y/N) swore he never told Sammy anything but something was fishy.

They arrived pretty quickly at the motel and Dean took a room for both of them while (Y/N) sat in entry drinking water to come back on earth. The Winchester took the key and went back to the other. He helped (Y/N) to stand up while the other explained he could manage alone. They headed to the room in a tense silence they never really had between them. (Y/N) never behaved that cold with Dean. He felt far away and it was strange. Dean didn’t liked it. He didn’t like the feeling all this procured him. He hated the tension. The only time there was any was when they met and it was ages ago. It wasn’t normal.

Dean unlocked the door and directly throw his stuff on the bed. Only one bed. (Y/N) frowned. It wasn’t the first time they actually shared one but he wasn’t feeling it tonight. There’s wasn’t any reason behind this choice. Generally, when they shared a bed Sammy was there too, so it was just less expensive to take two big bed than three. But right now, Dean could have just take two. It was just them only. Sammy wasn’t there.

- “Why did you took only one bed ?” It wasn’t just coldness, (Y/N) voices was deeply stressed, like he was scared.

- “Oh, I didn’t through of it. I’m just used to us sharing one I guess.” Dean unpacked some stuff, not looking at the other.

- “Well I don’t want to.”

Dean eyes went stray on (Y/N) who was avoiding his stare. The Winchester analysed the other up and down. (Y/N) was staying in a corner of the room not moving a single part of his body. He just looked so uncomfortable in every aspect. His hands were twitching from stress. It felt wrong.

- “Hey what’s going on ? Talk to me. What’s happening to you ?”

- “I don’t wanna share a bed with you.”

- “I don’t think that’s the real matter it never bothered you before.”

- “It always did.” It was a half lie. It’s not like he disliked it but (Y/N) felt wrong every time. Like he shouldn’t because if Dean knew the truth he would probably be disgusted or something.

- “Really ?” Dean frowned. “You never told me. You could have said so.”

(Y/N) didn’t responded and stayed in his corner his eyes on the ground. The Winchester walked to him in worry and tried to catch his eyes.

- “Do I need to take another room ? Do you want me to do that ?”

Still no answer from the other, no look, nothing. Dean took his hand in the greatest softness like (Y/N) could break from that.

- “(Y/N) talk to me. What’s wrong ?”

(Y/N) eyes suddenly locked with dean’s in pure sadness. Dean felt like his heart was breaking in pieces he hated that look. Every time he saw it he was swearing to himself it would be the last time and yet (Y/N) was sad again. He failed his mission. Dean put his hand gently on the cheek of the other.

- “what’s going on ? Huh ? Tell me.”

- “I can’t” (Y/N) was about to cry. Every word was just pure torture to pronounce.

- “why ? You can tell me anything. You know you can.”

(Y/N) shook his head to say no and Dean hugged him to calm him down. He rubbed the other’s back gently.

- “You’re fine, it’s gonna be okay.” At this point Dean was probably reassuring himself too.

Dean continued hugging him while (Y/N) tears fell down slowly, one by one.

- “You really can’t drink, huh.” Dean tried to joke.

- “I love you.” (Y/N)’s chest was about to explode like the world was ending.

- “And I love you too sweetheart. Always.”

- “No, Dean. I love you. I’m in love with you. I love you.”

And (Y/N) got silence as an answer. Dean stood back. He stopped the embrace and his heart broke. (Y/N) felt like suffocating, his chest was way to heavy. He felt disgusting, he felt wrong, he felt selfish, inconsiderate, unmindful. Not because they were two boys, who cared about that. But because it was Dean who Bobby presented like a big brother and always acted like one even tho (Y/N) hated it more than anything. Plus, Dean liked girls and dated way too many for those feelings to be reciprocate right. He couldn’t do that to Dean. His tears became a wave in a second and his hole body started shaking.

- "You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying." Dean’s voice was distanced. “We will talk about this tomorrow.”

- “No I’m not. Dean I’m in love with you. Why would I lied on that ? I always loved you from the beginning and I think it’s kind of obvious. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t. I will stop if you don’t want me to.”

(Y/N) felt inconsolable. Everything was blurry and silent around him and it was killing him slowly.

- “Dean I- ”

And just like that Dean was kissing him. (Y/N) always thought Dean kisses were rough, wild or stuff like that. He never imagined it could be that soft and comforting. Dean hand was in his hair caressing it. Everything felt sweet and gentle. That was so unmatching with Dean image and if he wasn’t in a state of pure shock he would have definitely chuckle about it.

When (Y/N) finally realised what was happening he pushed Dean slowly away.

- “Dean you can’t”

- “what ? Why ? Did you disliked it ?” Asked the taller one, concerned.

- “No it’s not that. But why ? You can’t kiss me just to please me or calm me down. That’s wrong. You can’t miss lead me like that."

- "what ? No. I didn’t do it for that (Y/N). I didn’t did it just for you. I love you too, that’s why."

- “that’s not true. You can’t.”

- “Why can’t I ? You can’t forbid me. Why would I, in the middle of the night, drive through several states, at full speed, just to pick you up if I didn’t love you.”

- “Because Boddy told you two to take care of me.”

- “Honey. He told us that when we were kids. What are we now ? I’m 26 and you’re 24. We’re grown men. I don’t need Bobby to tell me to care about you. I just do. Because I love you.”

(Y/N) stayed silent looking at Dean in disbelief.

- “Is that why you never liked when I said you were the most important thing to me ? You thought it was because of Bobby that I was saying that ?”

- “Yes.” (Y/N) just nodded softly in shame.

- “That’s insane. Sweetheart I can think for myself I don’t just follow Bobby orders because he says so. I love you because you’re you not because anyone told me to.”

Dean sighed and hugged the other one more time. He felt relieved. The big problem wasn’t something unsolvable in the end. He continued :

- “I love you too. Now let’s get some sleep I’m exhausted.”

(Y/N) nodded in Dean arms softly hugging him tied.

- “I really hope this isn’t a drunk dream" chuckled (Y/N)

- “You will see in the morning.”

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST

*DISCLAIMER: SOME STORIES MAY BE TAGGED FOR WRONG DEMOGRAPHIC (ie, Not GN, male or fem) IF SO, PLEASE POLITELTY INFORM ME SO I CAN FIX IT

DEAN WINCHESTER

Finally Reunited (Dean Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

Little Him (Dean Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

Too Many Jokes (Dean Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

Should Have Known (Dean Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

Try Again Next Week (Dean Winchester X Male!Reader)

Make It To Me (Dean Winchester X Reader)

Pushing Yourself (Dean Winchester X Reader)

Until Next Time (Dean Winchester X Fem!Reader)

Not The Planned Delivery (Dean Winchester X Pregnant!Reader)

Baby Banshee (Dean Winchester X Wife!Reader)

SAM WINCHESTER

Rowena's Apprentice (Sam Winchester X Son!Reader)

Prom Date (Sam Winchester X Son!Reader)

Shirts Worn By Brothers (Sam Winchester X Trans!Brother!Reader)

First Hunt (Sam Winchester X Brother!Reader)

Being Sam's Half-Demon, Bi-Racial Son Would Include...

Too Selfless (Sam Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

Nerdy Interactions (Sam Winchester X Fem!Reader)

Big Secrets (Sam Winchester X Fem!Reader)

Spill (Sam Winchester X Fem!Reader) *TW

Senses (Sam Winchester X Twin!Reader)

JOHN WINCHESTER

Choice Between Siblings (Dean Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

MARY WINCHESTER

Poor Heart (Mary Winchester X Daughter!Reader)

CASTIEL

Caught With The Angel (Castiel X Winchester!Fem!Reader)

Pants (Castiel X Asexual!Reader)

Neglected Dreams (Castiel X Teen!Fem!Reader)

Feeling Left Out (Castiel X Fem!Reader)

Where Were You!? (Castiel X Fem!Reader)

CROWLEY

Did You Multiply?(Crowley X Winchester!Fem!Reader) Pt 1/Pt 2

Little Winchester (Crowley X Winchester!Fem!Reader)

Good Hunter (Crowley X Winchester!Fem!Reader)

Liking A Demon (Crowley X Winchester!Reader)

Troublesome Crushes (Crowley X Fem!Reader)

You're A Demon/ Hunter? (Crowley X Fem!Reader)

A Different Kind Of Deal (Crowley X Fem!Reader)

GABRIEL

Chocolate (Gabriel X Teen!Winchester!Reader)

Losing My Angel (Gabriel X Winchester!Fem!Reader)

Angel Date (Gabriel X Fem!Reader)

Binary Spells (Gabriel X Non!Binary!Reader)

MICHAEL

Being Michael's Daughter Would Include...

Asshole (Michael X Fem!Reader)

LUCIFER

Being Lucifer's First Son Would Include...

JACK KLINE

Being Jack Kline's Twin Would Include...

Lost Twin (Jack Kline X Twin Sister!Reader)

For Mom (Jack Kline X Twin Sister!Reader)

Stories Behind Scars (Jack Kline X Winchester!Reader)

OTHER

Distraction (Team Free Will X Reader)

Safety And Security (Winchester Bros X Sister!Reader)

Growing Up (Winchester Bros X Sister!Reader)

3 Year Reunion (Winchester Bros X Sister!Reader)

Fidgetting (Winchester Bros X Sister!Reader)

Trying to Help (Winchester Bros X Blind!Sister!Reader)

Deals (Winchester Bros X Sister!Reader)

Our Dear Sister (Winchester Bros X Sister!Reader)

A Normal Life (Winchester Bros X Demon!Reader)

Hello, I'm The Son Of Lucifer (Winchester Bros X Male!Reader)

Safety (Winchester Bros X Fem!Reader)

Being Sam And Lucifer's Son Would Include...

Being Donna and Gabriel's Child Would Include...

Little Witch (Castiel X Dean X Daughter!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

[raz-writes-the-thing]

A Very Bisexual Revelation (Supernatural One-Shot)

Dean Winchester x (cis) Masc!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Dean Winchester's never had trouble with the ladies, but this is brand new territory for him.

Fic type: fluff, super super smut-lite

A/N: this fic is inspired a lil by Welcome To Being a Girl by @negans-lucille-tblr - that fic did something to me for real it is so so so GOOD! Everyone should read it for sure

SPN: @wereallbrokenangels (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Dean had always been confident with the ladies. Never had a problem getting them from the lockers to his and Sam’s motel room for that week, or from the bar to the backseat of the Impala. He’d never really been that worried about his sexuality because women saw his green eyes and charming smile and practically threw themselves at him.

But that wasn’t to say that he’d never been unappreciative of the male form either. No, he distinctly remembered looking a little too long at Kev Prentiss’ abs in high school, or thinking that John King’s hands were that pretty kind of veiny that girls kind of liked- and he liked it too, but he didn’t throw himself at men, and men didn’t throw themselves at him either.

Not to mention if Dean had stopped to think about his sexuality properly for more than twenty seconds he’d be fucking terrified of his father's reaction. So, he just went about his business, elbow-deep in pussy whenever he wanted. Honestly, knowing that he could go out and bed a happily consenting woman any time he wanted meant that he didn't really think about men all that much anyway.

And then he'd met you. Very manly, very masculine. Very obviously a guy with a guys', you know, equipment. The two of you had met on a hunt way back when and been each other's unofficial back-up rock ever since when either of you needed a hand.

You didn't see each other that often. Once a year if you were lucky (or unlucky- depending on how you looked at it). Twice if you were both hunting near each other and wanted a catch-up.

It had all started as an innocent friendship, but you weren't shy about your sexuality and interest in men (among other things sometimes) and it made Dean wonder. Particularly when he was drunk late at night crashing in a hotel while you snored in the bed next to his own, hand draped over the covers and so close to his own that if Dean really wanted to- he could reach out and touch you.

With every meeting, Dean wondered. At first, just about how you managed to make hunting look so good. It was no wonder monsters, women and other men threw themselves at you when you chucked a wink their way. Then, it was how gracefully you held a rifle, or swung an axe, or decapitated a nasty vampire.

Then it was how he liked the brush of his fingers over your stubble when you both roughed each other up playfully or the feel of your warm skin under his hands as he stitched you up, muscles tensing under the pinch and pull of his needle.

And finally, he realised, well- son of a fucking bitch, he was into you. Not, like, into the way you dressed or into the way you hunted. It finally clicked one Wednesday night after hearing your half-asleep voice on the phone ranting away about a hunt nearby that he was into you in a very I'd-like-to-get-handsy-with-you bisexual kind of way. It was a startling revolution for him, and, of course, he'd been with Sam and just blurted out the sentence- "son of a bitch- I wanna fuck him, don't I?" To which Sam had snorted half his beer down his front, slapped Dean in a comfortingly condescending way on the shoulder as if this wasn't news to him and left to find himself a clean shirt and give Dean some space to wrap that new little factoid around his brain.

It was another two months before Dean saw you again. You'd called him for backup while hunting a Wendigo in the forest a little ways from where Dean had been similarly hunting a good old-fashioned ghost. Six hours, a dead wendigo and eight beers in, Dean was finally tipsy enough to do it.

"So," he said, twirling his beer on the table. Watching the base of the glass tread condensation over the warping wood of the surface, Dean hesitated to make eye contact with you. "What's it like, huh? Being... with another dude."

Beer choked its way down your windpipe. You wiped your mouth and punted your chest a couple times to clear your throat. You told him it was good, no different from being with women, really, aside from the difference in anatomy and feel of it all.

Dean hadn't mentioned it after that. You'd both downed a couple more beers and stumbled back toward the motel room. You'd stumbled with the key for a moment, probably scratching up the lock a little more. Once you'd both stumbled through and Dean had discarded his coat over the back of the mysteriously stained chair by the rickety desk. Rubbing over his stubble, Dean decided he was not going to staying in anything less than a three-star joint from here on out.

"Can I, uh- can I try somethin'?" Dean asked awkwardly, and before you even had the agreement completely off your tongue, his lips were on yours. You jerked in surprise, having not expected this in the slightest, and then he was gone a second later, turned away from you and you could tell- ready to bolt for the door.

"Sorry, fuck-" Dean said, already reaching for his coat and taking a step for the door. You stopped him, had him turn around and face you.

"Do not apologise," you said forcefully, trying to get the words through the haze of panic you could see taking hold of his features. You brushed a hand over his cheek and encouraged him to make eye contact. "Wanna tell me what that was about, stud? Not that I'm complaining."

"Stud, heh," Dean chuckled nervously at the nickname you'd had for him for years now- noting the new more sultry tone the affectionate nickname had taken. "Listen, I- you know me. No bad luck with the ladies, but I've never, uh- you know."

You arched your brow, waiting for him to finish the sentence. It became pretty clear pretty quick that he was going to continue stumbling over his words unless you put him out of his misery.

"Kissed a dude?" You supplied. Dean's mouth opened and closed a few times, a very fine dusting of pink appearing on his cheeks before he nodded, averting his eyes. You eyed him carefully before adding- "Hmm. I know it was pretty short-lived, but- what did you think?"

"I mean- it was good. Yeah, great. No, good- good stuff," he sort of answered, that fine dusting growing just a shade darker.

"Dean, darling," you said, voice dropping an octave in your very best attempt at flirting. "Do you want to do it again? Hmm? Do you want to kiss me, pretty boy?"

Dean's breath hitched, his perpetually creased brows smoothing out in shock. Oh, he's been flirted with, sure. But not like this. Once you realised this, it was as if you'd been struck down with divine motivation. You stepped towards him, crowding him with your very masculine and very intentional energy.

"Yes," Dean whispered, plush lips parting to let bated breath through. "God, yes."

That was all you needed to hear, your hand twisting around to hold the back of his neck and bring him closer. He put up no fight as you pressed your lips to his, nibbling at the soft skin. If you didn't know better, it almost sounded like Dean whimpered in response to it before he kissed back, surging forward.

You stepped back, allowing him to crowd you against the end of the bed. Your ass hit the mattress and Dean was crawling on top of you faster than you could blink, fingers trailing over your tee and following the curve of your body up and over your chest, up your neck to cup at your jaw.

It was your turn now to be speechless, hands curling around Dean's hips and giving a soft squeeze. Dean grunted into your mouth, barely breaking away long enough to take a breath before he was back on you.

Dean kissed you like his life depended on it. Years of repressed sexuality all coming out in one kiss. You didn't mind that he'd taken control. In fact, you'd kind of expected it. Dean didn't like to take anything lying down. Especially not something he was nervous about. This was a whole new world for him. It made sense he'd want to keep control over that.

His lips moved over yours, nipping at your own and trailing over your cheeks, neck and back up to your mouth once again. He licked at your lip, requesting access which you granted greedily, tongue playing with his. Dean moaned into your mouth, hips rolling over your own.

You pulled away to catch your breath and Dean leaned above you with a smile that mixed cockiness and vulnerability in such a way that you'd never seen it before, but you wanted to see it again. God, you'd love to see Dean fucked out and boneless. You wanted to really see him let go.

"Been wanting to kiss you for a long time, stud," you said, squeezing Dean's hips. The man in question, puffy-lipped and red-cheeked, chuckled.

"Yeah, me too, handsome," he said, voice low with desire. Then, he added, more to himself than you, "shit- maybe I am gayer than I thought... Huh... who knew?"

[supernaturalscribe67]

Hidden Bruises

Words: 7,546

POV: 3rd Person

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

Warning(s): Language, PTSD, Mention of past Rape, Trauma, Sexual Assault, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Mention of Character Death, Azazel

Summary: After the death of their father, Sam and Dean's older brother went missing for a couple of weeks. Eventually, he returned, and everything seemed to go back to normal. When the brothers follow a lead that takes them to an abandoned schoolhouse, Sam and Dean come face to face with the reality of what happened to their brother when he went missing.

Request:

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the Winchester's (John/Dean/Sam) x Older brother finding out the Azaseal (yellow eye demon) s/a him and he's been keeping it secret intill they run into Azaseal and he gloats about what he did. (If you don't feel comfortable using yellow eyes that just some strong random demon is fine)

Maybe reader is someone who has always took care of all of them including when John was drunk or injured, took care of both his brothers doing whatever he could

@xweirdo101x

A/N: I'm not dead! Just stressed! These past several months have been horrible, but I'm happy to say I'm back in the groove of writing! This request has been long overdue and I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to get it out, I did not forget everyone who sent in a request! I hope you enjoy the story! Do NOT read if any of the warnings are triggering to you. Keep yourself healthy, keep yourself safe. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

~ Much Love

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“Dude, are you sure you’re taking me down the right road?” Dean asked, brows furrowed as he looked in the rear-view mirror occasionally. 

“I’m sure.” (Y/N) confirmed, gaze focused on Google Maps, which he had cued up for the last thirty minutes of their drive. 

“We’ve been driving the backroads for ages. Never thought an old schoolhouse could be this deep in the countryside.” 

“A lot of people settled here at some point, Dean,” Sam said with a brief shrug of his broad shoulders. 

“Sam’s right. According to local history, the first group of settlers that arrived built make-shift houses deeper in the woodland areas for better hunting and fishing grounds. To accommodate, they built a schoolhouse in the middle of the settlements so all the kids would be able to make it to school a little easier. Once the years passed and all the people started moving away to start the nearby town, the schoolhouse was practically abandoned. There wasn’t any need for it anymore.” 

“Look at you doing your research,” Dean teased with a smirk. 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “More than you, asshole,” he mumbled. “Oh! There should be a small clearing up here to your left. Go ahead and turn in there, but we’re going to need to walk the rest of the way,” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Oh, grow up, Dean.” 

“Says the one sitting in the middle of the backseat.” 

“You’re so lucky I love this car as much as you do, otherwise I’d make you drive her into a tree.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Try me, baby brother,” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Sam waved his hands, cutting them off. “As much as I like seeing you two go at it, now’s not the time.” 

Both Dean and (Y/N) opened their mouths to object but stopped themselves. They each grumbled something incoherent under their breath. Dean returned to the road and (Y/N) looked down at his phone. 

“Are you going to turn here?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled. 

Dean slowly turned the wheel and edged the Impala onto the beginning of a dirt path. A couple of feet ahead of the car, the path narrowed and was overgrown by trees. Even if the Impala would have been smaller, there was no possible way it would be able to fit down the path. It appeared to be more the size of a hiking or bike trail. Once the car was settled, Dean turned the engine off, the heavy purr dying to a low hum as the heat dissipated. The headlights stayed on for a couple of seconds before going out. 

“Let’s rock ‘n roll,” Dean grunted as he stepped out of the car. 

Sam and (Y/N) soon followed after, the three of them heading to the back of the car. Dean popped the trunk and lifted the cover, revealing their large array of weapons. Each of them took their respective weapons and sheathed them before the trunk was closed with a heavy bang that echoed throughout the trees. 

“Could you be any louder? We don’t know how close the schoolhouse is from here.” (Y/N) grumbled. 

“Bite me,” Dean mumbled. 

“Guys,” Sam sighed. 

(Y/N) held up his hand in surrender. “Fine, fine,” he turned away from his brothers and began to make his way towards the dirt path. 

“You sure it’s down this way?” Sam asked, following after him.

“Yeah, that is, if we assume the coordinates are accurate.”  

“And you’re sure you can trust Google with that?” Dean asked. 

“Same as we trust any other research material. All I know is that it should be in some type of field.” 

Dean nodded, satisfied with the answer. 

They began to make their way down the dark, dirt path, towards the canopy of trees, bent after years of surviving thunderstorm after thunderstorm. As they approached the trees, they pulled their flashlights out, illuminating the path ahead. The treetops were thick and heavy, the moonlight disappearing when they passed the entrance to the woods. 

Thirty minutes filled with dodging bulging tree roots and low tree branches, accompanied by some complaints from Dean about how far they had walked, moonbeams became visible through the upcoming branches. (Y/N) held up his hand, and turned off his light, before he walked towards the clearing. Sam and Dean followed suit, killing the light. 

Past the wall of tree branches, a field became visible. Sat in the middle, about twenty feet away from the group, was an old, dilapidated building. The building sat in front of them, tall and menacing, as if a dark aura circled the decaying brick exterior. It stood three stories tall, some windows broken, and glass surrounding the foundation. The steps out front were cracked with some concrete pieces scattered about near the bottom. The bold lettering that rested right above the front doors was faded, some letters almost invisible, but it was clear that it was supposed to read out the name of the school. (Y/N) couldn’t help but wonder how the interior of the building looked compared to the outside. 

One thing that struck the group as odd, however, was the fact that some of the windows were filled with warm lights, indicating power had been added to the ancient building. It wasn’t until they got closer that they realized a small hum was disrupting the evening crickets in their peaceful song. (Y/N) raised his hand, halting their movements. They got down low, the only cover they had being the overgrown grass that engulfed their bodies. 

“They’re using a generator.” (Y/N)’s voice was low and deep. 

Sam sighed. “And it looks like there’s only one entrance. I wouldn’t trust those windows either. No one knows how long it’s been since they’ve been opened.” 

Dean shook his head. “That’s gotta be against fire code to have one doorway.” He mumbled. 

“The fire code came around in the 1600s, but I highly doubt these settlers cared about it.” (Y/N) muttered. “I’m going to sneak towards the generator and turn it off. You two keep an eye out to see if there’s any movement inside. We can go in then,”

“Got it,” they said in unison. 

(Y/N) gave a brief nod before he headed towards the building, keeping low in case of peering eyes from the windows. Rounding the side of the building, the humming became almost deafening. A dull light illuminated a small patch of grass on the other side of the school. With his eyes glued to the light, (Y/N) swiftly made his way around and to the back. The generator sat against the foundation, rumbling loudly and shaking the earth around it. He grabbed his flashlight from his waistband and shone it on the generator, furrowing his brows as he looked for a way to stop it. Finally, he saw the power switch, took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead, and switched it off. 

The power died immediately, the once bright school house going dark in an instant. (Y/N) knew he had to be quick. He made his way back towards the front. Sam and Dean stood at the base of the steps, their weapons drawn. (Y/N) drew his before he joined his brothers. 

“Alright, let’s gank these sons of bitches,” he mumbled, taking the lead as they entered the school. 

It was a lot darker inside than they originally thought it would be. Despite the massive windows in each room, the decades' worth of dust covered the natural moonlight, engulfing them in darkness. They brought out their flashlights, illuminating the entranceway. Their dim lights skimmed over the walls and floors, taking it in as they took careful steps deeper into the school. 

The interior of the school was just as damaged as the exterior. No longer was it a place of learning, but a place filled with debris and graffiti. Artwork and random words riddled the walls in different colored spray paints and many wooden panels lined the floor that were covered in a ripped-up, faded green carpet. The three of them took their time navigating through the mess that was near the front door to get to the main hall. A room was located to the left, which would appear to be the location of the office and the home of the principal when the school was in operation.

A couple of feet away from the front door, there was an archway that led down a narrow hallway as well as a staircase to the right. The halls were a little more clean compared to the entrance. All of the debris was pushed to one side or the other, making it a little easier to navigate through. (Y/N) turned to his brothers and gestured down the hall. 

“You two take this hall and I’ll check upstairs,” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, yet booming in the dead silence that surrounded them. 

Dean furrowed his brows. “What? No.” Dean protested, his voice at the same level as (Y/N)’s had been. “We stick together.” 

“There shouldn’t be too many in here. I’ll be fine on my own. You two stick together, and shout if you need help.” 

“But-�� 

“Dean,” (Y/N)’s tone was low. “I’m not arguing about this.” 

Dean shared a glance with Sam before he shook his head in disapproval and began to make his way down the hallway. (Y/N) watched them for a couple of seconds before he turned. He stalked towards the narrow staircase, caged in by cracked and deteriorating walls. Other than the small amount of concrete or wood that was scattered around on the stairs that he had to avoid, they were rather clear compared to the entrance. Gingerly, he placed his hand on top of the railing, an old wooden rod that had paint and wood chipped away at it. He used it as a guide as he made his way up and to the second floor. The stairs creaked under his weight, despite his careful steps. 

While he walked, he concentrated heavily on his sense of hearing. With his sight limited, he was relying exclusively on his ears to tell him if anyone, or anything, was near. When he reached the landing, he shone his flashlight down a hall that looked identical to the one Sam and Dean had wandered down. 

The second floor was in the same state as the first floor with scattered debris on either one side or the other of the walkway. Doors lined the walls, some fully opened, and some cracked ever so slightly. One by one, he took a step into every room, shining his light around all four corners. He whispered a quiet ‘clear’ following each empty room he examined. 

All of the rooms were dimly lit with the mixture of (Y/N)’s flashlight and the faded moonbeams begging to go through the dusty windows. Chairs and desks were strewed about, some toppled over, while others rested in, presumably, the same spot they did all those years ago. Those tables and chairs were unknowingly preserving the history of the once-active school. 

It was quiet. Too quiet. A part of (Y/N) wanted to believe that the intel they received might have been wrong, that no demons were haunting the very halls he walked, but the generator out back told no lies. Squatters wouldn’t waste what little money they had on luxuries such as that, nor would they put forth the time and the effort to wire the entire building. The other part of him, the logical side, told him that the demons were good. Sneaky. They knew how to hide and they did it well. He had to be even more focused than he already had been. 

He hoped Sam and Dean were doing okay. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to split up. 

(Y/N) got to the last room, on the left side of the hallway. He noted that it was the only door that had been shut, making sure to be extra cautious as he reached a hand forward, grasping the splintered doorknob. As he opened the door, the aged hinges creaked, the sound echoing down the hallway, breaking the uneasy silence. The room was noticeably darker than the rest, not an ounce of moonlight visible. (Y/N) raised his light and shone it around the room. He took a couple of steps inside, broken glass crackling underneath his boots. When he shined his light on the window, he noticed that it had been completely boarded up, the remnants of a black trash bag that had once covered it hanging from nails lazily placed along the window sill. 

Just as he got to the center of the room, the door hinges creaked again, loud and eerie. (Y/N) was quick to turn around, but he was only able to catch the final seconds before the door closed. His breathing stopped, heart racing inside of his chest. He listened, closely, but he heard nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Nothing. 

“Guess who,” A deep, scratchy, all too familiar voice spoke. 

The same voice that plagued his mind and haunted his dreams. 

He froze. 

Like a deer in headlights. 

Then, his world went black. 

*~*

The harsh light wasn’t good for his pounding head. A throaty moan slipped past (Y/N)’s lips as he awoke, vision blurry and eyes watery. He slowly lifted his head, groaning at the noticeable crick in his neck. He could feel that he was slouched in a chair, his back was aching from the posture, but he felt too nauseous and weak to fix it. When his vision cleared, he was able to take in some of the details of the room he was in. It was obvious that the room used to be one of the many classrooms, desks and chairs were pushed to one side of the room, stacked up to the point where they could topple at any moment. A single window stood across the way, the bottom half completely shattered with a puddle of broken shards resting beneath. The chill night air whistled and caressed his face. To his right were two massive floodlights, shining down on him. To his left, were Sam and Dean, bound to chairs the same as he was. 

Sam and Dean. 

(Y/N) quickly sat up, despite the throbbing in his head. In an attempt to move his arms, he could feel how tight the ropes were around his wrists and forearms. The demons were skilled, it seemed. 

“Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” Dean grumbled, his speech coming out slurred. 

He has a concussion. 

“What the Hell happened?” (Y/N) hissed. 

“They came out of nowhere,” Sam mumbled. His eyes were half-lidded, looking as if he was experiencing the same pain as (Y/N). 

“There were too many of them.” Dean finished.

(Y/N) cursed under his breath as he tried to wiggle his arms out of the binds, but it was all to no avail. He was used to being held captive by people who didn’t know how to tie a knot, but the way he was tied up was rather intricate. He wasn’t too sure he would be able to break out of it. 

“How many did you guys run into?” 

“I don’t know, man,” Dean answered. “A dozen, maybe more. You?” 

(Y/N) stopped moving, his eyes cast down to the floor. “Just one,” 

“One? You got taken out by a single demon?” 

“It was dark,” (Y/N) defended himself with a growl. “I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t hear anything. It was silent.”

Don’t think about his voice. Don’t think about his voice.

“Still, to be taken out by one demon, geez,” Dean mumbled. 

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with you! I’m trying to get us out of here!” 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” a sweet, sultry, female voice echoed in the room. “You won’t be going anywhere anytime soon,” a demon came from behind them, a wide smile on her lips. 

She walked behind (Y/N), grabbed the knots connected to his wrists and arms, and tugged at them. 

“Did these myself,” she spoke proudly. “Wasn’t too difficult, really. Just seems as if people aren’t willing to teach themselves anything useful anymore,” she pursed her lips, crossing her arms underneath her breasts. 

(Y/N) snarled as the frayed ropes rubbed against his skin, scratching the surface. “If you’re done boosting your ego for five minutes, I’d really appreciate it if you let us go.” He spoke between clenched teeth.

The demon let out a boisterous laugh as she walked around the chair to stand in front of him. “Are you kidding?” She scoffed. “The Winchesters practically fall into our lap, and you think we’re going to let you go? Just like that?” She snapped her fingers. “Now, what would my boss think of me if I did that?” 

“And who, exactly, is your boss?” Dean asked. 

“Oh, you know him. Quite well, actually. He’s so excited to see you all again.” She walked over to (Y/N), the back of her hand brushing against his cheek gingerly. “Especially you.” Her voice was low, menacing. 

With that, the demon left, the click of the doorknob filling the silence. (Y/N) was tense. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Gooseflesh littered his arms, the hairs standing up. The panic began to set in. 

Have to get out. Have to get out. Have to get out. HAVE TO GET OUT.

“We have to go.” (Y/N) said, his voice barely above a whisper and shaky. 

(Y/N) began to frantically pull at the ropes, only resulting in them tightening around his arms. His muscles strained, shoulders shifting. Sam and Dean both tried to wiggle out of their confinements. Sam’s movements were slower and more thoughtful than his brothers’. 

“Do you know who she’s talking about?” Sam leaned his head close to (Y/N), voice hushed. 

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that we get the fuck out of here.” (Y/N)’s voice was louder than it normally would have been, the anxiety flooding his words. 

Sam and Dean shared a look of concern but decided to say nothing. They had never seen their brother so frazzled. Dare they say, scared? If there was one thing that (Y/N) never experienced when he was on hunts, it was fear. (Y/N) was always the one who kept a calm and collected attitude, barked orders, kept victims quiet during stressful situations, and he was the one Sam and Dean always fell back on. It was as if the brother they were bound next to wasn’t the same person. 

They all worked on getting the ropes off of them. Sam and Dean weren’t struggling as much as (Y/N) seemed to, who, at first glance, one would assume had never gotten out of binds before. That was far from the truth. He was, normally, the first one to get out of the ropes, as if he was an escape artist in a previous life. It was rather evident that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Sam and Dean, however, didn’t have the slightest clue. 

Have to get out. Have to get out. 

CLICK

The door opened, and (Y/N) froze. He was sure his heart stopped as well. Every muscle felt as if they were tying themselves together in intricate knots. The creaking hinges seemed louder than before, almost as if they were teasing him. Laughing at his pain. Mocking him. Or, perhaps, they were warning him. 

Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him.

“Well, well, well…” The voice spoke, amusement evident.

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold. In situations like that, when faced with immediate danger, our brain turns to one of three options; fight, flight, or freeze. You can defend yourself, run away, or accept your fate. Being tied to the chair didn’t give (Y/N) the chance for flight, and there wasn’t an ounce of fight left in his body. So, he sat there, frozen, eyes wide with fear. The last time he was filled with that much fear was when he last encountered the demon. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been that long ago. 

A hand on his shoulder caused him to jump. He knew that touch all too well. It felt as if fire was spreading from the hand, down his torso, and through the rest of his body. 

Azazel turned to stand in front of the three Winchesters, his deep, yellow eyes lingering over (Y/N)’s body. Sam and Dean tensed, their jaws clenched, noses scrunched as they stared down the demon. 

“Yellow eyes,” Dean said between clenched teeth. 

“Oh, come on, Dean, you know I’m much more than just my eyes,” Azazel smirked. “You know, me and my demons were having a fairly good night. Got a lot planned for you, Sammy. Of course, the plan has some kinks to work through, but what plan doesn’t? A peaceful night, nonetheless. Imagine my surprise when the lights turned off. Not only that, but imagine my surprise when I hear who turned it off.” 

Azazel’s eyes scanned over the brothers, but they always wandered back to (Y/N). Each time they did, it felt like he was getting stabbed in the gut. 

“You know,” Azazel continued. “I can’t thank you enough for showing up unannounced. I mean, that’s one less child I need to find,” he gestured to Sam. “Not only that,” Azazel turned to (Y/N), stalking over toward him at an agonizing pace. “But you brought my favorite little plaything.” 

This isn’t real. This can’t be real. Please don’t let this be real.

When Azazel placed his calloused hand on (Y/N)’s jaw, fingers trailing down to his chin, (Y/N) was faced with the brutal reality that everything was real. (Y/N) hadn’t realized how much he had been shaking until Azazel let out a deep laugh. 

“Still scared?” He teased, his tongue poking through his eerie grin. 

“Leave him alone,” Sam growled. “It’s me you want.” 

“Correction, Sam, I want both of you.” 

“Why? What is he to you!?” 

Azazel looked at Sam, then Dean, then back at Sam. His brows raised as a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh,” he cooed, tilting his head to the side as he bent down in front of (Y/N), their noses almost touching. “You never told them, did you.” 

“Told us what?” Dean questioned. “(Y/N), what the Hell is he talking about!?” 

(Y/N) couldn’t speak. He felt as if there were cobwebs in his throat, his lips and mouth dry, and no part of his body wanted to function. Azazel stared into his eyes. Correction: Azazel stared into his soul. The soul that he had left was damaged. Oh, did that fact fill the demon with pride. Azazel’s lips curled up at the corner of his mouth as he stood up straight. He sauntered over so he was standing in front of Sam and Dean.

“Months ago…” Azazel began. “After your dear old Daddy passed, your brother decided to go on a little manhunt, all on his own.” 

Sam and Dean turned their gaze to (Y/N). Sam’s eyes were wide with shock and betrayal, while Dean’s expression could only be described as pure anger. Their minds immediately drifted to the worst possible outcome from that hunt. Their first thought drifted to him selling his soul. Making a deal with Azazel. While that seemed like a possibility, it didn’t make sense, as Azazel still spoke as if he had plans for Sam. What could (Y/N) have done? 

Azazel began to make his way back over to (Y/N), his back straight, his posture intimidating. “After a couple of pathetic weeks of trying to find me, he was finally able to catch up to me.” Azazel stood in front of him. Slowly, he leaned down, his breath fanning over (Y/N)’s face. “Do you want to tell them all of the gory details? Or should I?”��

(Y/N)’s breath quickened, chest noticeably rising and falling at a rapid pace. The panic became evident on his face. Azazel reached a hand up and let it rest on (Y/N)’s knee. 

“Do you want to tell them how you quivered under my touch? How you were shaking and sobbing? How you were crying for them to save you?” 

As he talked, his hand trailed further and further up his thigh, getting dangerously close to his crotch. (Y/N)’s body began to convulse, eyes bulging from their sockets. Whimpers escaped his parted lips as he tried desperately to wiggle away from his touch. 

Have to get away. Have to get away. Get away. GET AWAY.

“Hey!” Sam shouted. 

“Get away from him!” Dean exclaimed. 

“Tell me,” Azazel continued, ignoring Sam and Dean’s loud protests, his attention solely focused on (Y/N). “Do you still hear my voice as you drift off to sleep at night? Do you still feel my fingers digging into your hips? Do you still feel my cock inside that tight little hole of yours?” He grunted as he gripped (Y/N)’s penis through his jeans tightly. 

“No! Please!” (Y/N) screamed louder than he had ever screamed before. Tears rolled down his cheeks freely, painting his face with their wetness. He desperately attempted to get away, not caring that the ropes dug into his flesh, rubbing it raw. His sobs echoed off the walls. 

“That’s right,” Azazel grinned wickedly, teeth and jaw clenched. Somehow, his quiet voice was the only thing (Y/N) could hear. Not the hum of the floodlights, not his brothers’ angry shouts, just Azazel. “Cry, my little pet.” 

“You son of a bitch! I’ll kill you! Do you hear me? I will fucking kill you!” Dean screamed to the point of almost instantly becoming hoarse. 

“Oh, I hear you boys loud and clear.” Azazel pulled his hand away from (Y/N). “And I must say, it’s getting rather irritating. I might just have to take my pet somewhere else to play.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Sam snarled. 

“Well, not now. I’ve worked him up a little too much for me to have a good time playing with him.” He glanced at (Y/N), licking his lips predatorily. “It won’t be any fun making him scream now. Don’t want him to lose his voice too soon. Besides, you two made a mess of one of our rooms, and I need to make sure that everything necessary is accounted for.” 

Azazel continued to stare at (Y/N), obvious amusement etched on his face. The tears continued to fall, but he was silent. His bottom lip wobbled. By the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, it was evident he was holding back cries he desperately wanted to let out. Azazel grabbed him tightly by the jaw, tilted his head up, and planted a rough, bruising kiss on his lips. Before Sam and Dean could resume their shouting, he pulled away. 

“I’ll see you soon, little pet.” He purred, fingers trailing over his wet cheeks before he stalked out of the room, not even giving Sam and Dean a second glance. 

Click

Creak

Slam

Silence

The three of them sat there and said nothing. (Y/N) stared off towards the window, head moving from side to side ever so slightly. His brain was foggy and dizzy from the overstimulation. Dean’s jaw was clenched, nostrils flared. His eyes glimmered with a murderous rage. He stared at his older brother - his broken older brother - before turning his attention over to Sam. Sam shared the same look of anger as he did. 

What no one had been aware of was that, while the chaos with Azazel unfolded, Sam had been working on the ropes around his arms. A couple of silent seconds after they were left alone in the room, Sam let out a grunt and pulled his arms apart. The ropes fell onto the floor with a light thud. With determination in his eyes, Sam turned and untied (Y/N) first before going over to Dean. Once Dean was free, he stood, stretched his neck muscles, and then turned for the door, eyes flooded with blind rage. Sam was quick to grab him by the upper arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

“What’re you doing?” He whispered. 

“I’m going after that son of a bitch, Sam, what do you think I’m doing?” Dean retorted. 

“We can’t. There are too many of them, and we don’t have our weapons anymore.” 

“I’ll take my chances,” Dean pulled his arm from Sam’s grasp and turned to leave, but was quickly grabbed by Sam once more. “Let go, Sam.” 

“Dean, I want the bastard dead just as much as you do, even more now, but we’re outnumbered. Plus, (Y/N) needs us.” 

Hearing his brother’s name snapped him out of the trance he was in. Dean snapped his head around towards (Y/N), who was still sitting in the chair. 

“(Y/N),” he breathed, quickly making his way over to him. Sam followed. 

Once they were in front of (Y/N), they could see just how much he was affected. His arms hung at his side lamely, his gaze still set towards the window. They were empty, devoid of any emotion. His cheeks were still stained, and his lips were slightly parted. They had started to swell. 

“Hey, hey, (Y/N),” Dean reached up and cupped his face, turning his head so he would look at him. “Hey, buddy, you’re okay. You’re safe. He’s not here anymore, but we have to get out of here. Can you stand up?” 

Silence. 

Dean slowly nodded. “Alright, Sam, you get that window open and we’ll get out of here. I’ll grab him.” 

Sam moved over to the window, scraping some of the broken glass away from it. He glanced out the window and let out a breath of relief when he saw they were on the first floor. He grabbed the top of the window, lifting it, but it didn’t budge. He cursed under his breath and took a deep breath as he hoisted the window open with all of his strength. The bottom half of the window slammed upwards, causing the wall to shake. He raised his brows and turned to Dean, gesturing him over quickly. 

Dean reached under (Y/N)’s legs and picked him up bridal style. He held him tight and close to his chest as he swiftly made his way over to the window. Sam was the first one to climb out, hissing as the splinters from the window sill embedded themselves into his hands. Once his feet were on the ground, he turned back to the window. 

“Pass him through,” he held his arms out. 

Dean glanced behind him at the door before he helped Sam get (Y/N) through the window. Once (Y/N) was through, Sam cradled him in his arms just as Dean had. Dean moved even faster to get out of the window. When they were outside, they could see, in the distance, the familiar sight of the sun peeking out past the horizon. They shared a glance, examined their surroundings, and then rushed back towards the tall trees at the edge of the field. 

They ran at Mach speed through the forest, hopping over roots and dodging protruding branches. Now and then, Sam would look down at his brother, still held tight to his chest, but the same, vacant expression was always present on his face. Sam was, admittedly, worried for him. He had never seen (Y/N) in such a vulnerable state. He was always the level-headed one, so put together. He was the one that Sam and Dean leaned on in times of trouble, the one that picked them up when they were down, the one to jump to their aid when they needed him the most without any hesitation. 

And here he was, carrying him in his arms, the broken shell of his oldest brother. Never, in a million years, would he have imagined this scenario. To him, it was always supposed to be the other way around, as it had been on multiple occasions. He felt so heavy, but, at the same time, light as a feather, as if Sam could carry him for hundreds of miles if he had to. He would in a heartbeat. 

By the time they reached the edge of the wood, the sky had turned a brilliant pinkish-orange, and mourning doves began to sing their elegant tune. Dean broke out into a wide grin as Baby came into view. 

“Oh, Baby, I am never leaving you again,” he mumbled as he ran his hand over her hood. 

“Dean? Keys?” Sam raised his brows. 

Dean slowly frowned. He patted his jean pockets, then his coat pockets. He grumbled, unzipped his coat, and reached inside. After seconds of searching, he let out a heavy sigh of relief as he pulled the keys out of an inner pocket. 

“Thank God for inside pockets.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just get the door opened.” 

“Right, right…” 

Dean unlocked the car before he rounded the corner to the back passenger’s side. He opened the door.

“How is he?” He asked. 

Sam took a moment to look down at (Y/N). He was so focused on getting them as far away from the school as possible, that he didn’t even notice that he had fallen asleep. Sam felt relief wash over him, glad that his brother didn’t have to experience any more of those negative thoughts he must’ve had. At least, not at that moment. Carefully, Sam navigated his way to the backseat, laying (Y/N) on his side. He made sure not to wake him. With everything he had gone through and all the emotions that had seemingly piled onto him all at once, he wasn’t sure how easy (Y/N) would be to wake up. He must have been exhausted. 

“He’s fine, at least, for now,” Sam mumbled. 

Once (Y/N) was situated in the backseat, Sam stretched, not having realized the strain he had received from carrying him for so long. He closed the door as quietly as he could and took his spot in the passenger’s seat. Dean walked around the car and got into the driver’s side. He was quick to start the car, the rumble of the engine sending vibrations through the seats. Dean pulled off the dirt road and did a U-Turn, heading back into town. 

The first five minutes of the ride were silent. Not even the radio dared speak up. Sam and Dean’s eyes were glued to the road, both of them taking turns to occasionally look back at (Y/N). 

Dean was the first one to speak. 

“We need to get the Hell out of Dodge.” He said. 

Sam nodded. “You’re right. If Yellow Eyes is this close, he’ll waste no time trying to find us. I can go in, pack all of our stuff, and check us out. Then, I say we drive as far away as possible.” 

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Another deep silence. Dean was the first one to speak again. 

“How come he never told us?” 

Sam hesitated for a moment, considering the question himself. He tried to look at it from a personal standpoint. Why didn’t he tell them? They’re family. They tell each other everything. But do they? He tried to look at it from a logical standpoint. 

It was one thing the Winchesters were notorious for; their lack of communication when it comes to their emotions. It was preached to them when they were younger, that emotions were the reason hunters got killed. You had to go in, get the job done, and don’t let it get to you. Then again, a vast majority of hunters are alcoholics, so what does that say about them? They are human, after all. 

What happens when something serious occurs? Something so traumatic that they lose themselves at the first sight of the enemy? That was something neither the hunting life nor their father had prepared them for. At that point, they were lost. 

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, you saw the way he acted when Yellow Eyes walked in.” 

Dean’s jaw clenched. “Yeah.” 

“I couldn’t imagine what he was going through, nor what he went through. I mean, if something like that happened to you, would you tell us?” 

Dean opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. He clenched onto the steering wheel. “No,” he mumbled. 

“Exactly, I mean…” he trailed. “This is fucked up.” 

“Yeah, extremely fucked up. You have no idea how hard it is for me to drive away. I wanna go back there and kill him so bad.” Dean spoke between clenched teeth, his grip on the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. 

“Trust me, Dean, I get it.” Sam nodded. “But right now, we should focus on (Y/N). He needs us right now, more than anything.” 

Dean looked over at Sam for a second before glancing in the rearview mirror at his older brother’s sleeping form. On that day, he vowed that he would kill Azazel with his own two hands. 

*~*

His vision was fading, black spots decorating his peripherals. Any sound had been replaced with a low buzz. His breathing was staggered and labored. Every inch of his body was on fire as if he was being burned from the inside out. The only relief he felt was the cool concrete that was pressed against his cheek. It felt as if his body weighed a thousand pounds. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t move. 

Suddenly, the pain shot through his body like a bullet, his muscles and nerves tensing. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. 

“Aw, isn’t that cute,” Azazel growled from above him. 

(Y/N)’s fear-filled eyes shot towards the sound of his voice. Azazel’s deep, yellow eyes stared into him intently, filled with rage, lust, and desire. (Y/N) tried to scream louder, but, still, no sound came out. 

“Sam! Dean! Help me, please!” He mouthed, hot tears streaming down his face. 

“Look at you trying to call out for your brothers. Well, I hate to break it to you, little pet, but they aren’t here, and they’ll never find you if I can help it.” 

Azazel caressed his cheek before grabbing his hair roughly, yanking his head back. In a flash, a cool, sharp black was pressed against his neck. 

“Now, be a good boy and take it.” 

The pain intensified, lightning shooting through his veins.

Take it. 

Please. 

Take it.

Someone.

Take it!

Help me.

TAKE IT

*~*

(Y/N) gasped as he jolted upright, eyes wide and alert. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of his pants. In an instant, Sam and Dean were by his side. Dean stood next to the bed while Sam sat next to him. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Sam spoke in a soothing voice, hesitantly reaching toward him. “You’re safe, (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) jerked away from his touch, and Sam was quick to pull back. As (Y/N) attempted to gather himself, he looked around the room. They were in a motel room, although it was different than the one (Y/N) remembered being in. What did he remember? The last thing he could recall was the look on Azazel’s face as he smirked down at him, the look in those deep, demonic eyes. Those damned eyes. He didn’t remember leaving the school, nor did he remember their journey to another motel room. 

“Where are we?” he asked quietly, his voice hoarse and broken.

“Chattanooga,” Dean replied. “A couple hours south of where we were.” 

(Y/N) nodded in acknowledgment. Then it was silent. No one said anything, the only sound filling the room was the electricity coursing through the air from the outdated box TV sat on the dresser. (Y/N)’s gaze was cast down towards the discolored comforter while Sam and Dean shared a glance as if silently urging one another to say something. Finally, it was Sam who spoke up. 

“Look, if you don’t wanna talk about it, we-” 

“He was right,” (Y/N) interrupted. 

Sam and Dean looked at each other before they turned their attention back to their older brother. Dean sat down on the bed opposite (Y/N), and leaned forward, hands folded. 

“Everything he said was true.” (Y/N) swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. 

“So, after dad died…” Sam trailed. 

“When I went AWOL? Yeah. I, uh, I had found where he was. Didn’t take that long, at least, not as long as I thought it was going to take. I was so set on killing him that I didn’t take into account the fact that there might be other demons with him. It was like I was…blind by rage…” (Y/N) lowered his head and twiddled his thumbs. “I was captured pretty easily, I hate to admit. Then, he came in…you know the rest.” 

(Y/N) was unaware of the tears that had begun to form in the corner of his eyes. He refused to look at his brothers. What would they say? What would they think? Would they be disappointed? Disgusted? Betrayed? He didn’t think he could handle what they thought about him at that moment. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dean asked softly. 

(Y/N) glanced up at them, brows furrowed with a look of confusion. Sam and Dean’s expressions conveyed a feeling of sadness. Of hurt. (Y/N) clenched his hands into weak fists and looked down. 

“I’m your big brother. I’m supposed to be the one to protect you guys, not the other way around. I’m supposed to be the strong one. How would you think of me knowing your big brother couldn’t even stop himself from getting raped?” (Y/N)’s voice broke, tears flowing more freely. 

Sam and Dean watched (Y/N) hug himself tightly. Slowly, they began to make their way onto the bed, not wanting to startle him in such a fragile state. With Sam on one side and Dean on the other, they wrapped their arms loosely and gently around his shaking frame. 

“(Y/N), I hope you know that we don’t think any less of you because of this,” Sam said. 

“Yeah, this isn’t your fault,” Dean agreed.

(Y/N) shook his head. “If I wouldn’t have gone after him…” he sobbed. 

Dean shushed him, reaching a hand up to gently caress his head. (Y/N) stopped what he was saying and just leaned against his brothers. The Winchesters were never good with comfort. Get over it, they were always told. Stop being so sensitive. Real men don’t cry, type of narrative. They all just sat there in silence, sobs continuing to fall from (Y/N)’s lips. 

He was always so scared about the way his brothers would react. He decided to take a page out of John Winchester’s book of dealing with his emotions. Bottle it up and everything would be okay, which was completely false. That much was evident back at the schoolhouse. (Y/N) wasn’t okay. Hell, that had been the first moment he had verbally admitted that he had been raped, and it hurt. 

Even though he felt a small sense of security in the arms of his brothers, he still didn’t feel safe. Knowing Azazel, his rapist, was still roaming the world in search of them always kept him on edge. He wasn’t sure he would ever feel peace unless he witnessed, firsthand, the life drain from those yellow eyes of his. After that, he wasn’t certain how he would feel.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice broke the dead silence. 

(Y/N) looked up at him, eyes red, but slowly drying. Dean gazed down at him with a look of determination on his face. 

“We got this, okay? As long as you’re with us, we won’t let anything else happen to you. You’ve been our big brother and protected us our whole lives. Now it’s our turn to protect you.” 

(Y/N) took a moment to look at Dean, then looked over at Sam. He gave a small, brief nod as he pulled them closer for a tighter embrace. 

“Thank you,” he spoke in a hushed tone. 

“Don’t even worry about it,” Sam shook his head. “You would do the same for us.” 

(Y/N) nodded.

“And if there’s one thing I can promise you, (Y/N), it’s that the next time I see that slimy bastard, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet between his eyes,” Dean growled, holding his brother close.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but give a small smile, because, while the Winchesters weren’t good at comfort or expressing their griefs with one another, there was one thing that made them stand out amongst everyone else;

When they promised to kill something, nothing on God’s green Earth could get in their way.

[sammysmaddy]

Normal (Winchesters x Reader) - Part One

Summary: Growing up as the baby of the Winchester family led you to be constantly guarded. Soon enough, you start to learn what's normal between families and what's not.

Pairing(s): Dean x Sister!Drugged!Reader, mentions of John x Daughter!Reader, OMC x Drugged!Reader.

Warning(s): Angst, drugged reader, non-con elements, naive reader, mild voyeurism, nonconsensual touching, male masturbation, somnophilia, incestuous thoughts and actions/

W/C: 4.8k+

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time

Normal Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean's POV

"We shouldn't be doing this, Dean. Dad is going to kill us," Y/N warned, but Dean was far past the point of returning.

It was one of those lucky nights where John didn't insist that Dean went on the hunt, tonight it was Sammy's turn and Dean was going to fully take advantage of his night off. That included finding a party to get wasted at and trying to forget all of the responsibilities that the following day would bring. 

Of course, Dean wasn't going to be a bad brother and leave Y/N home alone again. He was going to show her what life was like outside of a motel- what it was like to feel like you don't have to think cautiously about every step you take. It was going to be just as beneficial for Dean as it was going to be for Y/N. 

"Dad's not here and when Dad's not here, I'm in charge. It'll be fun. I promise." Dean told her, looking over to see her nervously chewing on her bottom lip. From Dean's position in the front seat of the Impala, even he could see how pale she was in the darkness. 

Y/N was truly petrified about the thought of going to a party and it was extremely evident through her facial expressions. This is what Dean wanted to get rid of. He wanted her to live her life a little, get out, and make new friends- not be scared to leave the motel. 

"When was the last time you went to a party?"

"Never," Y/N answered softly and Dean nodded his head, knowing that his point was proven. 

"It's going to be fine, Y/N. We'll have a few drinks, get you loosened up, and then maybe you'll be able to make some new friends. It's nothing to worry about, sweetheart." Dean comforted her and she nodded her head, taking a deep breath in. 

•••

"This is my sister, Y/N," Dean looked over at the young girl who was trying her best to keep it together. 

"Nice to meet you," Dean's friend said, reaching his hand out. 

Y/N's arms left her side for the first time all night as her right hand landed in his. Instead of the usual handshake, he raised her hand, placing his lips on her fingers. Dean knew that his friend was just trying to portray the gentleman he wished he was. 

"I'm Jordan." He told her, flashing a bright smile, and Y/N looked down to the ground trying to hide her blush. 

Dean felt his body tense up as he watched it all unfold in front of him, watching how she instantly became relaxed under Jordan's grip- how she suddenly seemed to enjoy being there with a simple smile, but this is what Dean asked for. 

Dean wanted her to go out and meet new friends, he just didn't want her to get hurt, so his guard was analyzing every move that she made. 

"Care for a drink?" Jordan asked over the loud music that seemed to be shaking the entire building. 

Dean nodded his head, giving him a small grin, and Jordan took his queue to leave towards the kitchen.

"Isn't this cool?" Dean asked, turning towards the smaller girl who was looking around at all of the people.

"Yeah, it actually is," Y/N beamed, smiling at him, before turning back to admire how happy everyone looked. 

Y/N was looking around everywhere. The lights, the cups half-full on the countertops, the random college kids making out on the couch- you name it, she was in awe.

Dean knew it was a lot to take in for her and he was just as surprised as Y/N was to find that she was actually enjoying herself. He smiled at her when he saw the life in her eyes rev up every time someone introduced themselves, and Dean knew she had never had this much attention from so many people in her nineteen years. 

"Here you go," Jordan snapped Dean out of his trance, holding a beer in each hand. 

Dean thanked him, reaching for the beer, but felt Y/N's eyes burn holes into the side of his head. He looked over at her, seeing the way that she asked permission with her glance, and felt the uneasiness radiating from her body.

"Go ahead," Dean gave her a small smile, taking a gulp of the cold beer in his own hands. 

Y/N nodded, her nervousness easing as she got permission, and grabbed the bottle from Jordan's hand. She thanked him with a warm smile and blushed deep crimson when he replied 'No problem, sweetheart'. 

Dean knew exactly what Jordan wanted by the way he talked to her. Dean examined the way Jordan licked his lips and looked into Y/N's eyes, even going the extra mile and adding a wink to the mixture.

Dean could feel his blood boiling but was able to mask it by chugging most of his beer down. He wasn't even exactly sure why he was upset, this is what he wanted. He wanted Y/N to live her life, he just didn't expect her to fall for someone's tricks so quickly. 

But still, Dean was cautious because it was Jordan. Jordan was more or less what Dean was, minus the hunting. He was a player. A womanizer. Someone that wanted a quick fuck and probably wouldn't even remember it the next morning. 

Y/N was too sweet for him, probably too naive to even get the subtle hints that Jordan left her, so Dean felt secure with that. He knew she wasn't exactly well-versed in people, surely she wouldn't give herself away to anyone who flashed her a smile. 

•••

By the time Dean felt safe enough to leave Y/N's side, she had made a friend named Lily and they were talking about all of the books that Dean would have considered nerdy. 

Y/N held onto the beer that was handed to her over an hour ago, yet to have finished it, and Dean was on his sixth or seventh of the night- he wasn't quite sure anymore. All Dean knew was that he was having a good time and so was Y/N, and that was enough for him. 

Dean himself was off somewhere talking to a red-haired chick, her name soon forgotten, and did his best to sweet-talk her into his bed.

Dean watched every move the red-haired girl made, knowing that she was looking for something long-term, but he didn't care. He knew that he could break any girl by purposefully letting his eyes twinkle or by playing into their interests, he wasn't worried about not being able to crack her. 

She was his type too. She was the girl that played hard to get and Dean knew that eventually when he asked her to go upstairs, she would cave in in an instant. 

She smiled when Dean cracked a joke, she blushed when he 'accidentally' glided his hand over her thigh, and she bit her lip every time something naughty slipped from Dean's lips. 

Dean knew that she was already letting her guard down and throwing her hopes of a relationship out of the window for him. He knew that she was ready to give it all to him and it had only been twenty minutes- that's how good he was and he prided himself for it. To his surprise, she made the move before he felt fully confident to do so himself. 

"Wanna  go upstairs?" She asked him, leaning in close and whispering in his ear. 

When she pulled back, she had her bottom lip pulled in between her teeth and a small smirk on her face. 

"Show me the way," Dean smirked back and her face lit up. 

Grabbing Dean's hand, she led him through the crowd of people too drunk to register that they were getting shoved past, and she giggled when she looked back at him. He smirked at the dirty looks of all of the other college kids, knowing that they were just jealous- that they couldn't do what Dean did, and that only boosted his ego even more. 

Dean even got a few extra snarky stares, most likely because of the girl that he was with, and it only made him more confident.

They walked up the stairs, hand in hand, pushing past a random couple that seemed to not care about getting to a room. They also pushed past the crowd of people watching the couple grope each other. Dean applauded them silently, knowing that was coming for him shortly too, and continued to follow the redhead up the stairs. 

Once they reached the top, she too must have felt inspired by the couple and eagerly smashed her lips onto Dean's. Dean was surprised by her initiative, chuckling into the kiss that was so desperately forced by her, and began to kiss her back for a short amount of time before she pulled away. 

"Let's go find a room," She winked, lowering down so that her feet were flat on the ground.

"Still following you, sweetheart," Dean smirked as she grabbed his hand again. 

As they began to walk down the never-ending hallway of the frat house, Dean suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"You okay?" The girl asked Dean, feeling the way that he let go of her hand. "There's a vacant room at the end of the hall. I already see the door open." She informed him, looking to see his reaction.

"Yeah, I'll meet you there in a second," Dean looked at her for a second, giving her a small smile. 

The woman nodded her head, standing on her toes to press a quick peck on his cheek, and turned around to head for the room. 

Dean looked back at what had stopped him in the first place. The slightly cracked door gave him the perfect hearing aid to tell him what was occurring in the small room. Dean could hear the way he kissed her neck and the way that he gave her small confirmations in between each kiss. 

Dean almost continued to walk on to the meal-of-a-girl waiting for him in the other room, but a gut feeling told him not to. He curiously pushed the door open, only a little to see what was happening. Dean's jaw fell to the floor when he saw Y/N. 

Dean felt the anger rise in him quickly but refrained from busting in and dragging her home. But he knew that he wasn't angry with her, he was angry with himself. 

Dean was angry that he was the one to leave her alone in the first place, resulting in her poor decision-making. It was his fault and he wasn't going to intrude if that was truly what she wanted. 

And because Dean knew that she only had that one beer to drink, he knew that she was still in the right mind to make her own choices. At least that's how it looked at first glance. 

There were plenty of things to be infuriated about when Dean really saw the events that were unfolding. Dean's biggest concern could have been that it was Jordan who was kissing Y/N, but it wasn't. His biggest concern could have been that she went upstairs without saying anything, but it wasn't. His biggest concern could have been that she barely had her eyes open or that she wasn't responding with anything but whimpers- but once again, it wasn't. 

Dean's biggest concern was that he couldn't peel his eyes away no matter how hard he tried, and he couldn't stop the tent from forming in his pants. As Dean tried to combat the feeling, he placed a firm hand on his clothed erection.

Dean watched when Jordan silenced Y/N's protests with his lips, trailing his hand up and down her bare thigh. Jordan continued by laying her back on the bed and when she tried to sit back up, he placed his hand flat on her chest to keep her lying down. 

He told her that everything was going to be okay, that she was beautiful, that she asked for it, and Dean just watched. 

Dean didn't feel bad for not going in there and saving her, he didn't even feel bad that his pants tightened in anticipation- eagerly awaiting what would happen to her next. He was long past the point of trying to stop himself and say that it wasn't right, that it wasn't consensual, that it was his sister. 

Dean wanted to watch, and if it were any other girl- he would have turned his head and used it as inspiration to ravage the redhead in the other room.

But it was her. It was Y/N, someone that Dean had been so curious about for so long. Dean had fought the dark feelings that he had about her for a considerable amount of time, and that all ended tonight. 

Dean had held himself at bay for the longest time and now he couldn't stop himself- even if he wanted to. He was entirely too entranced when he decided to crack the door open more and saw her sitting on the bed, and it only deepened his state when he saw Jordan's hands roam all over her body- preparing to take what Dean had wanted for so many years. 

Dean couldn't look away. He didn't want to look away.

Jordan kept his hand on Y/N's chest until she stopped trying to sit up. He then moved on to his next task. 

Dean bit down on his lip as Jordan positioned himself on his knees in front of her. Jordan's hands came down to take her sandals off and tossed them to the side. Then, he pushed her skirt up so that it was bunched up around her waist. 

Y/N whimpered when Jordan's fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear, sending a pulsing shock through Dean. Dean felt his pants continuing to tighten when he saw her panties slowly lowering down her legs, revealing her perfect pussy that he often wondered about. 

It was almost too much to take, the sight making him nearly ready to bust in his boxers, but Dean became increasingly aware that it wasn't him. It shouldn't be Jordan getting to enjoy her perfect little body, it should be Dean. 

Dean should be the one to feel Y/N wrapped around his cock, he should be the one hearing his name leave her lips. He waited for too long for someone else to take her from him. 

That was the only motivation Dean needed to bust in the room. He put on a front, pretending that he was angry with Jordan- although in reality, he wanted to do the same thing to Y/N. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Dean grit through his teeth as Jordan struggled to get back on his feet. 

"I- It's not what it looks like. She just- she got hot and asked me to-" Jordan scrambled, his face becoming extremely pale. 

Dean shot him a quick glare to shut him up, his chest puffing and then deflating over and over again. 

"You stupid son of a bitch," Dean chuckled, his face relaxing as he shook his head. 

Jordan stood perfectly still, looking as though he had seen a ghost. Jordan was likely confused and still trying to think of a justification for himself. 

"Dude, next time you drug a girl. Make sure her brother isn't here." Dean scolded playfully, walking over to her, and looking back at Jordan. 

Jordan quickly nodded his head and made a run for it, not even bothering to say another word. 

"Hey, sweetheart. It's okay, I'm here." Dean turned his attention to Y/N. 

Y/N's eyebrows furrowed together as Dean stroked the hair out of her face. 

"Dean?" Y/N asked quietly, her eyes opening for a split second. 

Dean confirmed and watched as her face relaxed, and then decided to work on getting her redressed. He placed himself in front of her, bending at the knees so that he could pull her underwear back up. 

Dean licked his lips at the sight of her bare pussy right in front of him, knowing that he could turn around, lock the door, and take her right there. 

But he didn't. He pulled her panties up her legs and pulled her skirt down so that it was back in its original place. Dean found her shoes and placed them on her feet, then he helped her sit up. 

Y/N was so out of it, her eyes rolling back into her head after every attempt to open them. Dean noticed her face as it scrunched up, the poor girl looked terrified. 

"Hey, hey. It's okay, Y/N," Dean hushed her when her eyes became glossy and the tears began to fall down her cheeks. 

Dean helped her stand up, wrapping an arm around her to make sure she was balanced. Y/N held on to him tightly, not saying a word as she barely managed to walk out of the house and back to the Impala. 

Dean helped Y/N to get situated in the front seat, buckling her in as she drifted in and out of consciousness. He knew that soon enough she was going to sleep and that she wouldn't be able to wake up for a while.

"I don't think I like parties anymore," Y/N mumbled as soon as Dean began driving. 

"Yeah, I think I'll just go by myself next time," Dean told her, chuckling lightly, and instinctively rested his hand on her thigh. 

Y/N pushed Dean's hand away with as much force as she could muster up and Dean cleared his throat, realizing how uncomfortable that might have been for her. 

"Sorry," Dean muttered, resting his hand on his own thigh.

"He was touching me there," Y/N managed to say and Dean nodded his head. "I don't like him, Dean."  

Dean looked over to see Y/N pouting her bottom lip and her nose scrunched, her eyes closed shut as she rambled on like your local drunk. 

"I'm not his biggest fan either," Dean chuckled and focused on driving. Much to his surprise, Y/N still hadn't passed the fuck out as she continued to talk. 

"He was going to touch me right there," Y/N forced out of her lips, barely able to pick her hand up and point it towards her crotch. 

"I know, sweetheart," Dean said, looking over to see her small gesture. 

Dean raised an eyebrow as she chuckled lightly, her lips curling into a small smile. It was almost adorable to see her like this, out of it- almost like she was drunk. And for once, Y/N actually seemed happy. 

It confused Dean, surely Y/N couldn't be happy about the events prior to leaving. Maybe, she really did ask for it. Maybe, she had previous experiences that would make her want to do so. 

"Have you ever been touched there?" Dean asked, curiosity getting the best of him- he knew that Y/N would answer truthfully in this state.

"Mhm," Y/N nodded her head, a light smile spread across her face. Dean continued to raise his eyebrow and immediately became concerned.

"With who, Y/N?" Dean asked in a commanding tone and she frowned at how aggressive he had become in such little time. 

Y/N didn't have any friends and she barely left the motel. Moving from town to town, motel to motel, there wasn't any constant person in her life. 

Either she wasn't as precious as Dean thought she was, whoring around and sneaking out, or she had a relationship with someone in a random town- but surely she wouldn't be happy about leaving them... Why was she smiling?

"I can't tell you," Y/N said simply, frowning and shrugging her shoulders, letting her eyes close shut as her head fell back. 

Y/N's head snapped back up and it was evident that she was trying to fight the drug as much as she could. 

"Why not?" Dean asked defensively, not sure why Y/N wouldn't give the information that he needed to know now. 

"Daddy says it's our secret," She giggled, not even realizing that the name had slipped her tongue unintentionally. 

"Get some rest, Y/N," Dean growled, clenching his fists around the steering wheel- so much so that it was giving him white knuckles.

Dean knew that she was telling the truth- he knew that she couldn't tell him anything but the truth. The truth was much more sinister than anything he had ever dreamt of, all of the pieces connecting in his mind. 

How could he not have seen it? How could he have not found it weird that John pulled her out of school but not anyone else? How could he not see that she was obviously his favorite? How could he not have seen all of the signs that connected him to her? 

How long had it been happening? How young was she when it first happened? Did Sam know too? There were so many questions that Dean had no way of knowing the answer to.

It made Dean angry. He wasn't sure if he was angry that he wasn't included or angry that John could do those things to her- the things that Dean wanted to do to her. 

It made him angry that Y/N seemed so okay with it. She giggled when she told Dean and it made his skin crawl. It's not something that she's supposed to be okay with. It's not something John was supposed to be okay with. With Dean understanding how naive she was, Dean knew that John was most definitely the one who initiated it. 

Then again, Dean was having the same feelings. Maybe he was having even worse feelings. Dean's mind then generated this situation as a possibility. 

Even though he was angry with John for taking advantage of Y/N, Dean also knew that this might be the only chance he's had in a while. 

And with this new information, it pegged an even bigger question. If Y/N could see her own father in that way, then could she want Dean in the same way? Did she even know that it was wrong?

•••

The anger stayed with Dean the entire ride home. All of those damn unanswered questions had Dean's throat hitched for the rest of the car ride. 

Y/N was far past the point of waking up and Dean silently cursed at himself for telling her to go to sleep. He needed to know everything, especially because chances were, she wasn't going to remember anything in the morning.

Y/N wouldn't remember the majority of the party. She wouldn't remember Jordan's hands on her body or how he took her panties off. She wouldn't remember that she accidentally told her biggest secret. 

Dean was angry and on top of that- he was sexually frustrated. He didn't get to screw the redhead into oblivion like he wanted to and to add onto it, he was battling morally with himself for finding his little sister so attractive. 

Dean had his chance. He had his chance when he saw Y/N in the room fighting consciousness. He had his chance when he laid her down on the motel bed and he knew she was asleep. But as much as Dean's mind twisted into the darkest places, he couldn't take advantage of her like that. 

Dean wanted Y/N to want him. He wanted her to scream his name and come undone around his cock- only for her to endure multiple more orgasms by the time he finally chose to cum inside of her. 

Dean wanted for Y/N to remember how perfectly he filled her, how they fit together like a puzzle piece- how they were made for each other.

Although Dean was angry and hurt about the news, he was also excited. This information opened up endless possibilities for him and they all ended with Y/N. In the best-case scenario, he wouldn't have to fight the feeling anymore. 

Dean would no longer have to go to the bar and find someone who looked like Y/N. He wouldn't have to drink to the point where he couldn't make out their facial features so that he could imagine Y/N in their place. He wouldn't have to suppress screaming Y/N's name every time he came inside some random girl he'd never see again. Y/N could make Dean whole. 

Instead of fucking Y/N all night, knowing that she wouldn't remember, Dean decided to admire her. She was sprawled out on the bed, still in her clothes from the party, and she was sleeping peacefully on her back. 

Y/N looked so pretty, so perfect, and Dean couldn't deny that he enjoyed undressing her more than he should have. It was innocent and she needed to change, but he couldn't help but imagine that it was real. 

Dean wanted it to be real, he wanted to undress Y/N for larger purposes, but undressing her like this would satisfy the itch. 

Dean worked on first getting her sandals off, neatly placing them by her bag so she'd know where they were in the morning. Then he moved to her skirt, gently sliding the fabric down her thighs and taking his time. 

Dean laid his hands flat on Y/N's thighs as he made the decision to keep her panties on. Seeing her like this was hard enough, and he knew that if he saw her fully undressed there was a possibility he wouldn't have the mental fortitude to hold back. 

Dean didn't bother finding shorts for Y/N or pajama pants. Dean knew she often slept with just a shirt to cover her bottom half. 

Once Dean had snapped out of admiring how soft her skin was, he began to work on her shirt next. He gently ran his hands under her shirt, bringing the material up just above her breasts. 

Y/N's skin prickled with the cool air touching her torso and even though she was wearing a bra, Dean could only imagine how hard her nipples were. When her shirt was completely off, he reached under her and unclasped the basic black bra, licking his lips when he guided the straps down her arms. 

There she was, sleeping ever so peacefully in just her panties. Dean was practically salivating at the way she looked. 

Y/N's nipples were hard, just as Dean expected, and it was all Dean could keep his eyes on. Her chest moved up and down with each breath, taunting Dean as it brought her closer to him. 

Dean couldn't help himself when his fingers reached down and pinched her nipples. Even the slight touch of her intimately sent an electric pulse through his veins. 

Dean continued to play around and did his best to be extremely careful, even though he knew that Y/N wasn't going to wake up. His hands cupped her breasts. They felt like puzzle pieces because of how perfect she felt in his embrace- she felt like she was made to be touched by Dean. 

The slight jiggle when Dean moved his hands sideways made his jeans tighten up yet again, but this time he didn't have any interruptions. He palmed at his erection, keeping a hand on one of Y/N's breasts and tweaking her nipple to keep it hardened. 

Dean didn't want to fuck her like this because he wanted her to feel special and wanted, but he couldn't deny that the more he stared at her- the more his bulge grew in its confinements. 

Dean quickly undid the button on his jeans and slid the blue fabric down his legs, hoping that it would offer him some sort of relief. His breath was shaky when he knelt on the bed, his knees on either side of Y/N's perfect body. 

Dean felt wrong for reaching into his boxers and indulging himself above her, but it was the only relief he could think of without fucking Y/N until the sun came up. His free hand landed on her chest and began to grope her breast again whilst his other hand stroked himself in his boxers. 

Dean watched Y/N's lips part with every breath in, imagining what it would feel like to have her sucking him with them. He wondered how soft and pillowy her lips would feel around his cock, how wet and warm her tongue would feel on the bottom side of his shaft, how good her throat would look when his dick prodded through the thin skin. 

Dean found himself stroking harder, more needily, and his boxers slightly pushed down his thighs. As Dean thought about all of the things he wanted to do to her, he felt the rubber band inside of him snap. 

Dean hadn't cum that fast since he first started fucking girls, spilling white ropes across Y/N's perfect chest, and leaving him in a state of euphoria as he marveled at her. She looked so pretty with his cum all over her and Dean couldn't deny his shame in not feeling guilty about it. 

•••

Next Part

•••

Tag List ❤️

@hobby27 @writethelifeyouwant @deeranger

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

WC: 2007

Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.

Warnings: A/B/O, dystopian au, canon elements, non/con, dub/con, incest, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, physical/mental abuse, mention of collaring/leashed, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, death/murder conviction, show level violence, parental dominance, trafficking, branding

*Additional warnings will be added

Square filled: @spnabobingo -Arranged Matings

A/N: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

*This is combined/edited together with part VII

A/N II: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

Part VI

John walks down the hallway and is met by his eldest's concerned expression, “Dad, what’s wrong? You were gone for a long time.” Looking at the young, almost grown men he’d raised affirms his gut-wrenching decision was correct. “Nothing but the usual bureaucratic BS that needed sorting. Grab the O, we’re leaving.”

John’s nostrils flared at Sam’s ‘they’re not going to let us go yet’ response. “And why n..?” His sharp inquiry was interrupted by the sound of wheels squeaking down the hallway and they all turned to see a male Beta pushing a cart with various metal implements lying on top. “Hi, I’m here to do your O’s branding.” John appeared confused, and Sam piped up again.

“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you. This state mandates to prove ownership bought O’s have a brand burned into them like livestock.” John looks at Dean, demanding an explanation, and repeats what the register told him. 

John turns his attention back to the brander and asks how he would do it. Nervously, he details creating a mark out of the aluminum and applying it on the O. “If you’re not sure what you want, I can sketch an idea. Most people like to incorporate the first letter of their surname.” 

The brander quickly works. “Ignore my freehand. The brand will be clean.” John barely glanced as he held it up and nodded in acquiescence.

“Great. Let me administer the numbing agent; it needs a few minutes to kick in.” He picked up a vial of clear liquid, drew it up and walked towards the O when a deep growl reverberated off the walls making him freeze. Sam, instinctively flanked by Dean, placed themselves between the brander and the unconscious O. “Dean, take your brother out of this building now!” John commands in his Alpha voice, making Dean flinch.

Dean’s instincts tell him to follow Sam’s lead and stay with the O, but his designation forces his wolf to submit to follow their Alphas’ orders and wrestles his agitated brother outside.

“I apologize for my youngest; he’s recently presented and hasn’t yet learned to control his wolf.” The brander accepts, and John watches as the O’s rolled onto her side and injected the numbing agent into several places to deaden the area. Then, with deft precision, he bent the aluminum into shape and lit a propane torch, heating it before asking John, “Could you lay across its thighs? Sometimes, they still feel this. Don't want it moving and messing up the brand.” 

Sam was chewing on his thumb cuticle, the tell-tale sign of his wolf's nervousness getting to him, when it yelped, spotting John emerging through the clinic door carrying the O. Handing her back to Dean, they resumed their previous positions in the car as John drove back to the rental. 

Sam followed Dean down the hallway when their Alpha ordered, “Dean, take her to my room, set up an O sleeping mat, then move your stuff in. I’ll take the couch.” The brothers shared a look before Sam asked why, and John said, “I saw your reaction to her back at the warehouse.” Sam’s eyes flashed and John growled, “Right there is why. That O is here for your brother's use, not yours.  So, until its suppressant implant kicks in, you’re staying well away from it. I have an errand to run,” John picked up his truck's keys and walked towards the door. “Don’t forget to resalt the door.”

Sam spit out, “What’s so damn important you have to go back out at this hour?” John didn’t acknowledge his youngest sass, “Dean, I expect you to ensure your brother doesn’t go near that O.”

“Nothing changes. Heading to the nearest bar to get loaded as usual.” Sam snarled after John left and Dean gave him a look. “Can you stow the attitude for one night?” Sam peered at his brother with chagrin. “Sorry. I’ll leave that bedding for her by the door and pack your bag.” He proceeded towards their bedroom when Dean called out…

“Don’t touch my porn, you freak!”

John parked his truck in the darkest shadow he could find, flipped open a burner phone he’d bought, and dialed the number he’d gotten from Bobby. 

“I’m here.” The voice on the other end instructed him he'd have five minutes to accomplish his task. When he got the all-clear, John got out and began counting down as he entered the building's back door. 

Reaching the doctor's office, he sat at a computer and, following the voice’s instructions, found the pertinent file and opened it. In a blink, the previous information was deleted and replaced. John then clicked print, and as the new pages printed, he found the original physical file and began swapping them. 

Pocketing the originals, he stuck the file back in place and walked out. The voice instructed him to go out to the middle of nowhere, drive over the phone until it was in smithereens, burn it along with paper paperwork, and then hung up.

John destroyed the phone and was ready to flick his Zippo to incinerate the papers, but something told him not to. Instead, he opened his weapons catch and retrieved an unfinished curse box.

***

The sun had barely risen when John let himself into the rental carrying coffee and donuts. He found his sons already up: Dean was cooking breakfast while Sam sat at the kitchen table, slumped over open schoolbooks, catching up on his homework. 

“That smells good,” John says, placing the items on the counter. Dean pulls out a couple of the to-go cups, sipping on one, and hands the other to Sam, who immediately pops the lid off, adds milk and sugar, and asks suspiciously, “You take care of that errand?”

“Yes, I did. I’m going to grab a shower, and then we’re,” John paused, staring directly at Sam, “Going to discuss the ground rules concerning that O.”

Monday

Sam poked his head out of his doorway and, hearing his Alpha’s snoring, snuck down the hallway and let himself into Dean's room to find him kneeling next to the seated O. “Sam! What the hell? If Dad catches you…”

“He’s still passed out,” Sam frowned when the O cringed as Dean smeared the healing agent swapped from the clinic onto her brand. “Almost done, sweetheart,” Dean reassured her; she continued flinching until he finished. “Done. Okay, let’s get you dressed.” 

Dean slid his most worn flannel on her, and the O hissed when the super-soft material touched her raw skin, eliciting a viscous-sounding growl from Sam, causing Dean to shoot a look that said shut up or get out. Chastised, Sam comments, “Jeezus Dean, your clothes swamp her,” instantly regretting the thoughtless remark as a brief flash of shame crosses Dean's features. “Had those jail fines, and what was left barely fueled up my car.” Sam commented back, “My spare jeans should fit better since I’m closer to her size.” Dean rolled his eyes, “Sammy, remember what dad told us. The pamphlet clearly states that we shouldn’t confuse her by mixing-up our scents.”

“Oh, for fucks sake! We practically live on top of each other! She’s been exposed to our mixed-up scents for nearly two days! And who’s the one she’s skittering around? Dad!” Sam pointed towards the door, “He needs to stop trying to brainwash you into believing the bullshit in that pamphlet the clinic gave you. It's ridiculous nonsense! She’s not some dumb animal. You’ve seen it yourself!”

“Sam, just because she knows how to blink once for yes-two for no doesn’t mean she comprehends things like we do!” 

“Wow, could you sound any more like Dad?” Sam shot back loudly when a grunt echoed through the thin walls and they all froze. Dean slowly cracked the bedroom open, whispering, “Shit, that woke Dad up.” He exhaled and relaxed, “Good, he’s going to the kitchen. I’ll distract him ‘cause you need to get ready for school, I gotta drop you off early. Gonna meet with the lawyer before my hearing this morning.” 

“You need to make a good impression on the judge today.” Sam reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out some folded bills. “It’s not much, but it should be enough to get you something more presentable from Goodwill.”

“Thanks, Sammy, but I can’t take that. It’s not your responsibility to take care of me or her; that’s my job, always has been.” Dean reopened the door and almost stumbled upon hearing his brother's words.

“Dean, you’re not taking care of her. You own her.” 

Deans Hearing 

10:07

The judge slammed their gavel down. “John Winchester, if you do not control yourself, I’ll have the bailiff not only put you in restraints but also gag you!” The Alpha ignored the judge and continued arguing with the prosecuting attorney. “What the hell is this about Dean having to claim her?” 

“Your honor, I request a fifteen-minute recess to confer..,” The judge interrupted the public defender. “Councilor, you have five minutes to remind your client’s Alpha that he accepted this plea agreement. And make sure he also understands the consequences of outbursts in my court!” 

John was still fuming when the lawyer slammed the conference room door shut. “Your stupid, domineering Alpha crap is what got Dean into this situation!” Taking several deep breaths, the lawyer began explaining. 

“It’s the standard procedure in this state to include the claiming statute in cases like Deans. However, in ninety-nine percent, the presiding judge will not enforce it and instead accept the branding as the claim. If the prosecutor had pressed for it, I was prepared to show precedent that it wasn’t applicable since you're not a state resident.” They pointed a finger in John’s face, “If the judge doesn’t kick it, you have only yourself to thank!”

John quickly strategized. “What if I do a mea culpa? Say my wolf has been under extreme duress, and I reacted badly to the possibility of being unable to choose Dean's mate?” The lawyer shrugged, “It’s worth a shot because there’s nothing I can do now since you agreed to the plea deal without consulting me first for the record.”

“The court accepts your apology, Alpha Winchester.” The judge sat back. “As per the rules of the claiming statute, I have to consider the factors that led to your son ending up before this court. I have reviewed your family history obtained during the investigation of this case and, to be honest found your parenting skills atrocious.” The judge began reading a file out loud.

“Since the death of your mate, you’ve denied your sons a stable home life, constantly moving; the only paper trail of their existence is from the numerous state schools they’ve attended. Then there’s a multitude of notifications to CYF of suspected abuse, neglect, and exposure to unsavory elements in our society that, unfortunately, has led your eldest sitting before me, awaiting my decision on his future.” The judge stared at both Winchesters briefly before gesturing to Dean to stand. “This court finds that Subordinate Alpha Dean Winchester has complied with all but one of the requirements of his plea agreement within the time frame stated.”

“Because of the previously cited circumstances and, being unmated Alpha going into a rut, resulted in the death of another, I am obligated, per the state of North Dakota law, to ensure the defendant is not in a situation to commit such a heinous act again. Therefore, I order the claiming statute to be carried out immediately.” They bang their gavel and left.

Dean stood there in shock, half listening as John conversed with the lawyer about the logistics(?) of what this forced mating entails. The bailiff gripped his arm and led him out the prisoner entrance, down the short hallway, stopping in front of a door painted with an A/O symbol. When the bailiff opened the door, what Dean saw returned him to reality, and yelled...

“I CAN’T DO THIS!”

Part VII

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @kazsrm67

[guizika]

Vampires!

Dean Winchester x Male Reader

Cw - Male reader, you/yours pronouns, fluff, Mention of death, violence, drinking, maybe it’s a bit ooc.

Synopsis - You decide to go to a bar to forget your problems, but unfortunately you end up finding more problems, but you also find a solution.

Word count - +1500

A love disappointment, problems at work and some encouragement from your friend were enough to make you go to a bar. The bar was located in a more secluded part of town, and most people went there at weekends.

You left the house wearing your favorite outfit, a white T-shirt and black pants. When you got to the bar, you ran into your friend, who was already drinking and hitting on the bartender. As you approach, you nudge her shoulder lightly and she lights up when she sees you. "You really came!"

"Of course I did, I'd never miss a chance to drink myself into a stupor." You say jokingly, smiling amusedly. Soon, you sit down next to her and order whisky to drink, chatting about silly things. Some stories have already been told, but they're still funny. You drink and laugh as you reminisce about your teenage years.

"Remember when you and Willian nearly blew up the school laboratory?" She says, laughing out loud as you let out a nasal laugh. "Firstly, that was far from an explosion and, secondly, it was all Willian's fault." You say defending yourself, laughing as you remember that day.

"Hey, do you remember when you flooded the bathroom at school?" Her laughter stops and then she blushes with embarrassment, drawing a genuine laugh from you. "It wasn't my fault, I was unfortunately in the bathroom and then disaster struck." You finish your whisky and then smile sarcastically at her. "Yes, of course, whatever you say."

Before you can order anything else to drink the Bartender hands you a beer, causing you to raise an eyebrow. "Uh, sorry, but I think you gave it to the wrong person, I didn't order a beer." The bartender smiles at you and then points to a man sitting on a bar stool by himself. "That man sent you that drink."

Your gaze goes in the man's direction, analyzing his face, he notices your gaze and smiles seductively at you, then takes a sip of his beer. "Oh my God, you have to go to him now!" Your friend whispers to you excitedly, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "Don't worry, I've already found someone I want to stay with tonight." She says as if she knew what you were going to say, making you sigh with relief.

"Wish me luck." You smile and then walk over to the man, clearing your throat to talk to him. "Ah, hello, did you send me the beer?" He nods and then you sit down next to him, your beer in hand. "So, what's your name, handsome?" He smiles and then takes a sip of his beer.

"James Hetfield, but you can call me daddy, and what would your name be, sweetie?" he says, smiling seductively. He says, smiling seductively as you raise an eyebrow and laugh slightly. "Oh yes, you're the lead vocalist of Metallica, I'm John Lennon, nice to meet you."

He laughs, catching your drift. "I'm Dean, now, what's your name?" He takes another sip of his beer as he waits for your answer, after you reply he smiles and then looks around. "Right, well, what do you say we get out of here, sweetie?" His tone comes out suggestive, making you smile and then agree immediately. You finish your beers and then leave the bar kissing, you go to his car and then he takes you to the motel room where he's staying.

"Just don't make too much noise." He says between kisses, making you bite his lower lip and smile seductively, he lays you on the bed and you continue kissing.

…

The next day you open your eyes and see that the man is still asleep, so you get up and put your clothes on. After buttoning up your white T-shirt, you go out and then order a cab on your cell phone.

You see that your friend has sent you a few messages and you laugh, opting to reply when you get home. The cab arrives, you get in the car and say the address, driving home.

...

After two months, a lot of murders began to occur in your town, worrying most of the population. These crimes usually occur at night, so many people stop going out, but that doesn't stop you from going out to cool off.

The bartender looks at you and greets you, smiling and then placing a glass of whisky in front of you, already knowing what you were going to order. You finish your drink and the bartender hands you a Cuba-Libre. "That's the man who told me to give it to you." You look at who the bartender pointed to and notice that the man has pale skin and long black hair, he smiles and then walks over to you. His gaze never leaving your face, looking at you with a mischievous smile.

"Wow, what does someone like you do in this kind of place?" he asks, smiling and looking at you seductively. You take a sip of the drink he's sent you and smile kindly. "Just enjoying life, that's all, how about you?" The man seems to like your answer, looking you in the eye and then taking a sip of his drink. "I'm just enjoying life too."

After talking for a while, you leave the bar, he kisses you and takes you to his car. "Well, you're very handsome, I confess I'm sad to have to kill you." Hearing his words, your eyes widen and you try to push him away, only to be surprised by a blow to the back of the head, knocking you out. You hear other people's voices and then faint.

…

"What the fuck, ouch." You feel a strong pain in your head, probably because of the blow, you try to get up or move your arms but realize you're tied up, becoming more aware of your current state.

"You're finally awake, I thought you'd died from the blow." The barman's voice echoes off the walls of the shed, he turns on the light and your eyes close, opening only when you've gotten used to the brightness. "Where am I?" Your voice comes out hoarse, probably because your throat is dry.

He laughs, the laugh containing malice. "Well, you're in the nest." Your expression shows doubt. "Nest?" The man snorts, then opens his mouth and bares his fangs. "Yes, well, I'm a vampire and this is my nest, there are lots of vampires here." You stay silent, trying to process what he's said.

"Vampires?" You whisper, making him smile. "Yeah, I'd explain it to you, but there's no point because you're going to die soon." His words make you squirm as he approaches, screaming and begging for help even though you know it will be in vain. However, before he gets too close to you, the sound of a door opening can be heard and then he turns around to see two men.

You look too, relieved that someone has arrived, but after looking for a while you realize that one of the men is Dean. "Hey, bloodsucker, how about you come over here and face us?" Dean says and then the vampire charges at them, but he's easily defeated.

"Hey, how are you?" The taller man comes towards you, cutting the ropes that bind you and helping you to your feet. "Well, I almost got killed by a, uh, vampire, I guess, but I'm fine." The man smiles embarrassedly and then introduces himself. "I'm Sam Winchester and that's my brother, Dean." You smile and then introduce yourself.

They get you out of there and then take you to the car, you lean against the car and then cross your arms. Sam leaves you and goes to talk to someone on the phone, leaving you alone. Dean ends up explaining their work to you, causing you to let out a sigh.

"Well, I had no idea that James Hetfield also hunted monsters." You say in a joking tone, smiling in a relaxed way. "But seriously, that was super unexpected, like, I never imagined that these things actually existed." Dean laughs lightly and then lets out a snort, looking away.

"Well, I don't think anyone really wants to imagine that sort of thing." After he says that, you look at each other, until Sam arrives and clears his throat, making you look embarrassed and then look at him.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to Dean." You just smile and shrug, watching the two of them walk away, talking about something you can't hear. After a while they come back and Dean lets out a sigh and looks at you.

"Looks like we have to go, another case has come up." His tone contains dissatisfaction, but he tries to mask it, you let out a sigh and then smile at him. "All right, but when you pass through this town, come and visit me."

Dean brightens up and then takes his cell phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. "I've got a better idea, put in your phone number, so we can, well, keep in touch."

After that you both get in the car, he drops you off at your house and then he drives off, heading for the place of the next case.

Maybe you'll meet again in the future...

Please don't translate or copy my work and don't repost on other social networks, if there are any grammatical errors I ask you to excuse me!

[shinyasahalo]

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(F/M) Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug) 36,839 fics

(M/M) Keith/Lance (Voltron) 34,994 fics

(M/M) Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester (Supernatural TV) 34,574 fics

(M/M) Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou (My Hero Academia) 32,707 fics

(M/M) Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) 32,625 fics

(M/M) Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood (Shadowhunters TV) 32,313 fics

(M/M) Will Graham/Hannibal Lector (Hannibal TV) 30,944 fics

(F/M) Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren (Sequel Trilogy/Star Wars) 30,449 fics

(F/M) Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter) 30,410 fics

(M&M) Peter Parker & Tony Stark (Avengers/Marvel) 30,368 fics

(M/M) Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin (Bangtan Boys/K-Pop) 30,137 fics

(F/M) Original Female Character/Original Male Character (All Fandoms) 29,256 fics

(M/M) Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin (Bangtan Boys/K-Pop) 29,163 fics

(M/M) Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov (Yuuri On Ice) 27,963 fics

(F/M) James Potter/Lily Evans Potter (Marauders/Harry Potter) 27,505 fics

(M/M) Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson (Stranger Things TV) 27,249 fics

(M/M) Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) 25,676 fics

(M/M) Original Male Character/Original Male Character (All Fandoms) 25,438 fics

(M/M) Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto (My Hero Academia) 24,637 fics

(M/M) Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Seokjin | Jin (Bangtan Boys/K-Pop) 23,837 fics

(M/M) Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF) 23,714 fics

(M/M) Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic (My Hero Academia) 23,690 fics

(F/M) Pepper Potts/Tony Stark (Iron Man/Marvel) 23,633 fics

(M&M) Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) 22,378 fics

(M/M) Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion (The Witcher TV) 22,138 fics

(F/M) Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley (Harry Potter) 22,024 fics

(F/F) Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor (Supergirl TV/DCU) 21,423 fics

(M/M) James T. Kirk/Spock (Original Series/Star Trek) 21,144 fics

(M/M) Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru (Haikyuu!) 21,062 fics

(M&M) Sherlock Holmes & John Watson (Sherlock TV) 21,018 fics

(M/M) Hinata Shouya/Kageyamo Tobio (Haikyuu!) 19,681 fics

(M/M) Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet (Our Flag Means Death TV) 19,581 fics

(M/M) Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel (Glee TV) 19,279 fics

(GQ&GQ) Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens TV) 18,515 fics

(F/M) Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (Harry Potter) 18,466 fics

(M&M) Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuki (My Hero Academia) 18,433 fics

(M/M) Levi Ackerman/Eren Yeager (Attack on Titan) 18,426 fics

(M/M) Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Min Yoongi | Suga (Bangtan Boys/K-Pop) 18,380 fics

(M/M) Harry Potter/Severus Snape (Harry Potter) 18,170 fics

(M/M) Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier (X-Men/Marvel) 18,106 fics

(M/M) Dan Howell/Phil Lester (Video Blogging RPF) 17,899 fics

(M/M) Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou (Haikyuu!) 17,719 fics

(F/F) Original Female Character/Original Female Character (All Fandoms) 17,339 fics

(F/N) The Doctor/Rose Tyler (Doctor Who TV) 17,153 fics

(M/M) Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren (Sequel Trilogy) 17,086 fics

(M/R) James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader (Marvel) 16,982 fics

(M/M) Keith/Shiro (Voltron) 16,928 fics

(M/M) Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich (Shameless TV) 16,592 fics

(M&M) Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester (Supernatural TV) 16,235 fics

(F/F) Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan (Once Upon a Time TV) 16,177 fics

(M/M) Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minha | Lee Know (Stray Kids/K-Pop) 15,998 fics

(M/M) Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier (IT Movies) 15,991 fics

(M/M) Kim Taehyung/Park Jimin (Bangtan Boys/K-Pop) 15,888 fics

(M&M) Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) 15,665 fics

(M/M) Jenson Ackles/Jared Padalecki (Actor RPF) 15,635 fics

(M/M) Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto (Naruto) 15,460 fics

(M/M) Loki/Thor (Thor Movies/Marvel) 15,430 fics

(M/M) Jeon Jungkook/Min Yoongi | Suga (Bangtan Boys/K-Pop) 15,334 fics

(M/M) Tartaglia | Childe/Zhongli (Genshin Impact) 15,178 fics

(M/M) Rodney McKay/John Sheppard (Stargate Atlantis TV) 15,145 fics

(M/M) Gabriel/Sam Winchester (Supernatural TV) 14,916 fics

(F/M) Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin (The 100 TV) 14,907 fics

(F/M) Fox Mulder/Dana Scully (The X-Files TV) 14,787 fics

(F/M) Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson TV) 14,420 fics

(M/M) Regulus Black/James Potter (Marauders/Harry Potter) 14,398 fics

(M/M) Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru (Jujutsu Kaisen) 13,993 fics

(M&M) Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) 13,727 fics

(M/M) Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort (Harry Potter) 13,682 fics

(M/M) Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade (Sherlock Holmes TV) 13,515 fics

(M/M) Levi Ackerman/Erwin Smith (Attack on Titan) 13,359 fics

(M/M) Frank Iero/Gerard Way (My Chemical Romance) 13,310 fics

(M&M) Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku (My Hero Academia) 13,303 fics

(M/M) Miya Atsumo/Sakusa Kiyoomi (Haikyuu!) 13,207 fics

(F/F) Clarke Griffin/Lexa (The 100 TV) 13,194 fics

(M/M) Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones (Torchwood TV/Doctor Who) 13,111 fics

(M&M) James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers (Captain America/Marvel) 13,073 fics

(M/M) Steve McGarret/Danny "Danno" Williams (Hawaii Five-O TV) 13,064 fics

(F/M) Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov (Avengers/Marvel) 13,052 fics

(M/M) Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Miserables) 12,829 fics

(M/M) Loki/Tony Stark (Avengers/Marvel) 12,808 fics

(M/M) Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield (The Hobbit) 12,773 fics

(M&M) Castiel & Dean Winchester (Supernatural TV) 12,751 fics

(F/M) Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak (Arrow TV/DCU) 12,721 fics

(F/F) Amity Blight/Luz Noceda (The Owl House) 12,526 fics

(M/M) Bakugou Katsuki/Todoroki Shouto (My Hero Academia) 12,376 fics

(M/M) Nico di Angelo/Will Solace (Percy Jackson TV) 12,334 fics

(M/M) Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks (My Hero Academia) 12,318 fics