#dean winchester x half sister reader

[marie-swriting]

A Part Of The Family - Dean Winchester

Masterlist

Summary : You go on your first hunt with your father John and your half-brother Dean, hoping you'll finally be able to prove you're a true Winchester to your father.

Warnings : half-sister!reader, Y/N is 15, John is a shitty father, angst, feeling like you don't belong in the family, killing vampires, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language so tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 3.1k

French version

Prompt : PL n°1, n°10 "We could have prevented this"

“What are the rules ?” John asks you with a harsh voice.

“Always be on alert and ready to attack, kill first and ask questions later.” you answer, determined.

“Good, don’t forget you have to cut their head or they’ll still be able to attack. As it’s your first time on the field, you stay close to me or Dean, right ?”

“Yes, sir.”

John hands you a machete before closing the trunk of the Impala. You feel a knot in your stomach as you realise you’re only a few minutes away from the most dangerous moment of your life. Your hands start shaking, you tighten your grip on your weapon, hoping it’ll give you more courage. Rapidly, you look up and see Dean’s eyes on you. He puts a hand on your shoulder to reassure you. You give him a quick smile but the fear can still be read on your face. When you’re finally ready, you start entering the vampire nest.

You’ve been on their trails for a few days now and thanks to your personal researches, you found where they’re hiding. Now, you hope you’ll be able to kill these monsters without making a mistake, you want to show John he did a good thing by taking you out of the foster system after Sam left for University. Indeed, when the younger Winchester decided to leave the family business, John didn’t like being one hunter short so he came to get you, knowing he’ll have your custody easily because your mom died at your birth. Until he’d come to your foster family, you didn’t know your father’s identity, let alone that you had two big brothers. When you met them, an immense amount of joy had filed you, you thought you’d finally belong to a real family. John had said to your foster parents he came to have your custody because he just discovered your existence. He made a beautiful speech to them on the importance of having his daughter in his life. When he had pronounced those words, your heart had burst with love, but reality caught you up quickly when he immediately put an emotional distance between you before starting your hunter training. You knew it wouldn’t be easy but you want to prove to him he can count on you during hunts so you make sure to always give your best. However, John is demanding, you feel like you’ll never meet his expectations and because of the pressure you can make some mistakes. Fortunately, Dean knows to be patient with you, he protects you from John's reprimands.

When you’re in the old building, you’re faced with a heavy silence. It doesn’t feel like there’s any threat on the horizon while you’re getting deeper into the nest. You keep walking discreetly and glancing in every corner until you find some kind of cage with a prisoner inside. With a glance, you recognise Jake, a teenager your age who’s been helping you to find the vampires. He had started searching for them before you arrived ; his sister was one of their victims. Together, you had put your skill to good use, you with your supernatural knowledge and him with his knowledge of the city and its residents. When you see him, you lower your machete and run toward the cage.

“Jake ! My God, you’re okay ? Did they do anything to you ?” you question, examining his body quickly with your eyes.

“You know him, Y/N ?” John interrogates.

“He helped me to find the nest.” you inform before turning back to your friend. “You’re okay, Jake ?”

“I’m fine.”

“We’re getting you out of here, don’t worry.” Dean states while starting to force the lock.

“Kid, do you know where the vampires are ?” John questions with a dry tone.

“No, I just regained consciousness, actually. Thanks.” Jake says when Dean finally frees him.

Jake gets out of his small prison stumbling. You catch him when he’s losing his balance. You’re about to ask him if everything is fine when you see pointy teeth coming out of his gum. Surprised, you don’t have the reflex to lift your machete up. Dean and John are about to intervene when other vampires leave their hiding place. You finally push back Jake, scared but he comes back to you again. You try to fight him with your weapon but Jake breaks your arm, forcing you to drop it. Dean hears your cry of pain and turns his head to you. He sees Jake about to bite you in the neck when Dean runs to you and cuts Jake’s head without a second thought. You’re too stunned from what’s just happened to move.

“Everything okay ?” Dean questions, preoccupied.

“Yes, don’t worry.”

John growls angrily, making yours and Dean’s head turn to him. Dean leaves you to help John. You pick your machete up from the ground and try to at least hurt some vampires. Not able to use your dominant hand, you have even less strength to cut heads. By some miracles, probably due to adrenaline, you cut the head of one blood-drinker. In spite of yourself, you stare at the body and their head, not believing you’re the cause of it. Snapping out of it, you look up and see that most of the vampires are dead. John is handling the Alpha vampire while Dean seems to lose his fight with another monster as he’s struggling to get their fangs away from his neck. You run to him and cut the vampire’s head with all the strength you have. When Dean understands he’s not in danger anymore, he sets his gaze on you, proud to see you were able to save him. You can’t help but smile lightly as you realise that, for a first hunt, you did pretty well. With your valid hand, you help him to stand up while John finally kills the Alpha vampire. You look at John, hoping to see he’s happy or at least relieved to know you and Dean are alive and almost not hurt, beside your broken arm, but it’s an angry John who comes your way.

“What the hell was that ? We got ourselves in an ambush because of your stupidity ! How could you not understand Jake was a vampire when he was helping you ? Don’t tell me you didn’t even think about checking him before telling him everything !”

“He… I…” you stutter, making John even more mad.

“Answer !”

“He told me he was looking for the vampires, too but he didn’t know how to attack them.” you explain, feeling ashamed.

“And you didn’t think it was weird he knew that much ?”

“He said he’d been researching for two months so it seemed normal to me.” you defend yourself and John sighs to contain his anger.

“Damn it, Y/N, that’s unbelievable ! We could have prevented this if you had some common sense !”

“Dad, she’s still learning. It’s okay.” Dean intervenes with a calm voice.

“Not when she puts us in danger ! We could have died and she has a broken arm. She should have done better !”

While listening to John’s reproach, you lower down your head. On second thought, the hunt went worse than you thought. You put your loved ones in danger and you disappointed John. it’s going to be even harder for you to find your place in your little family and you hate yourself for that. John is right, you should have done better.

“We’re all alive and they are all dead. It’s a win.” your brother insists.

“I don’t care if we did well ! She should have thought like a hunter.”, John retorts before taking you by your shoulder with strength, forcing you to look at him with a wince, “You better not do that again, next time, use your head.”

“Yes, sir.”

John sighs, letting go of your shoulder. Dean has a quick peek at you to make sure you’re okay, you give him a quick nod to reassure him, but your glistening eyes don’t convince him.

“Come on,” John starts, “we have to go to the hospital for your arm, we can’t fix it. Another waste of time because of your stupidity.”

“I’m sorry.” you breathe, ready to cry in any second.

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t change anything. And get those tears out of your eyes, half Winchester or not, Winchesters don’t cry.”

“Yes, sir.”

Your shoulders drop when you follow John while Dean looks at you with compassion. He knows what it’s like to fight for John’s approval, it’s very rare to gain it, even for him it’s complicated while he does everything John tells him.

In the Impala, John doesn’t say a word, too angry he doesn’t even take a quick glance at you, as for Dean, he wishes he could reassure you, but he doesn’t want to get John more mad. You hold your arm to minimise the pain on the way while you think back to John’s words. Among every thing he reproached you about, his last sentence hurt you the most. Since he came to get you, you know John treats you differently than Dean, he doesn’t see you as a part of the family. Yet, it doesn’t stop you from feeling your heart burst out in pain every time he reminds you of it when he specifies your only Dean’s half-sister or when he refuses you calling him ‘dad’, that one hurts the most.

When you arrive at the hospital, there aren't a lot of people, surprisingly so you just have to wait an hour and a half to be taken in charge of. When your cast is on your arm, you go back to the motel still in silence. You bite your lips, stressed while you’re searching for something to say to rectify your mistakes but you don’t really know John, you ignore what you should say. When you walk through the door of your motel’s bedroom, John points the small kitchen table to you. Reluctant, you walk toward it without a word and sit. Dean starts following you but John orders him to get cleaned up. Knowing it’s not the time to challenge him, Dean obeys. John stays on his feet in front of you, towering you with his height. Instinctively, you look down on your fingers, fidgeting with them until John starts talking.

“I hope you realise what you did was dangerous.”

“Yes, I won’t do it again, promise.”

“You better ! You could have died and so could have your half-brother. At least, you did kill some vampires but apart from that, you ruined this whole hunt ! If you don’t want to go back to your foster family, you better be more useful next time. I don’t need a deadweight but a hunter.” he rumbles.

“I’ll do better next time.” you assure him, determined.

“We’ll see in a few months because with your bullshit, you got yourself a broken arm. You’ll be in charge of the research and when you’ll be able to train again, we’ll get back to it and this time, I’ll be more strict. You need to learn correctly, I can’t have a kid who doesn’t know what she’s doing.” John spats, emphasising on the word ‘kid’, hurting you once more. “Don’t make me regret my decision to get you. And get that sad look out of your face, I can’t waste my time with weak people either.”, he orders and you try to get a grip on yourself, “I’m going to the bar.” he finishes, walking away from you. 

Without a glance, John leaves the room. When you hear the door slam shut, you jump. Tears filling your eyes in an instant. You try to hold them back but the more you blink, the harder it is to prevent them from falling. In spite of yourself, a tear rolls down your cheek. You wipe it away quickly, hoping Dean didn’t see anything because he just got out of the bathroom. You take deep breaths, trying to cool down your emotions. Dean delicately puts a hand on your shoulder and kneels down in front of you. 

“Hey, kid, you’re okay ?”

Contrary to John, the word ‘kid’ in Dean’s mouth seems affectionate. You see in his eyes he’s genuine, but you refuse to show you’re weak for another second. You clear your throat before looking him in the eyes.

“Yeah, just tired of the day. John went to a bar.”

“Just you and me, then ? What do you say about going to the Burger in front of the motel ?” he proposes with a smile.

“I’m not really hungry and I wouldn’t like John to get even more mad because he won’t find us when he’ll get back.”

“He’ll be in that bar for some time, don’t worry, besides, you need to recharge your battery, you did your first hunt !” he states, hoping it’ll cheer you up.

“What a victory it was !” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“You got through it with only a broken arm and it was a vampire nest, I call that a victory. C’mon.”

Dean helps you to stand up from your chair. He puts back on his jacket and takes his wallet before inviting you to leave the motel.

At the Burger place, you almost don’t eat anything. You swallow only some French fries but don’t touch your hamburger while Dean devours everything in a heartbeat. Dean doesn’t start a conversation, guessing you need some silence after everything John told you. Dean knows he wasn’t kind with you the second time he reprimanded you with the small part he was able to hear through the bathroom walls. Furthermore, Dean and you have been knowing each other only for a few months now, he ignores if in this kind of situation, you’d rather talk or stay on your own. Just to be safe, he prefers to stay close to you without being oppressive so that's what he’s currently doing. When he’s finally done with his meal, he asks for a doggy bag for yours and goes to pay. On the way back, you don’t see the Impala, which reassures you because you know you still have some time off before John’s return. Entering the room, you take your stuff and close yourself in the bathroom. When you’re ready to go to sleep, you lay on your bed, your back facing Dean who’s on his own bed watching TV. You try to sleep but John’s words keep haunting your mind. The more you think back about the hunt, the more you realise how naive you were. Mentally, you’re calling yourself names, telling yourself that because of your mistakes you lost what little esteem John had for you. Feeling your tears again, you try to breathe slowly. You can’t cry, especially with Dean next to you. He can’t see how weak you are or you'll go down in his estimation as well and it’s the last thing you want. Despite your tries to be discreet, you sniff, drawing Dean’s attention to you. At first, he doesn’t think too much about it, but when he hears your heavy breath and your sniffing several times, he gets up from his bed and comes to you. He sits down next to you and puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. Feeling his presence, you don’t dare to move, waiting for him to scold you.

“Wanna talk about it ?” he questions softly.

“There’s nothing to say.” you state.

“Y/N, I know how his words can affect someone.”

“He’s right, I’ve been stupid, I should have been a better hunter.”

“You’re fifteen and you’re still learning.” Dean retorts, “You were naive, it’s true, but a few months ago, you still thought vampires were some kind of legend from Transylvania, not the reality. You can’t be perfect from the start. You were bound to make mistakes on your first hunt, you can’t be mad at yourself for that. Believe me, I made worse mistakes on my first hunts”, he tries to reassure you but you’re still silent, “Y/N, could you look at me ?”

“No, I don’t want you to think I’m weak.” you refuse, ashamed.

“Why would I think that ?”

“Winchesters don’t cry. Even if I’m not a real one.” you say, repeating John's words.

Dean sighs, trying to find something to say. He hates the way John’s words already got into  your head. He wishes he could reassure you like a big brother should but he’s still facing your back, not wanting to confront him. He knows he shouldn't take it personally but knowing you think he could act like John tightens his heart.

“I know I’m not well placed to say this,” he starts, hesitating, “but you can cry. Before being hunters, we’re humans.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you like I disappointed John.” you whisper, sniffing.

“You’re not gonna disappoint me and as for John, he’ll get over it, you can trust me. When you’ll be fully trained, he’ll see how excellent of a hunter you are.” Dean affirms.

“If he didn’t send me back to my foster family by then.” you add.

“I won’t let that happen.”, your big brother states, determined, “Now that I know I have a little sister, I can assure you you’re stuck with me as long as you decide otherwise.”

“Half-sister.” you correct, John’s voice still echoing in your head.

“In other words, my sister. You’re a part of the family.” Dean insists and you feel a new tear rolling down your cheek.

“Why are you so nice to me ? You didn’t even know I existed six months ago, you have  every right to ignore me.” you question with a trembling voice.

“I just told you, we’re family, I care about you.”

Without responding, you turn around before throwing yourself in his arms. All the tears you’ve been holding back for the past few months finally roll down your cheeks. Feeling your shoulders shaking, Dean holds you closer against him. He strokes your back, inviting you to let all your emotion leave your body. His heart breaks a bit more when he realises how much you’ve been holding back to at least satisfy John a bit. He knows the pain all too well so that night, he makes sure you know he’ll always be there to support you. Your head still hiding in the crook of his neck, you stay in his arms, accepting for the first time the comfort of your big brother.

Masterlist

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

#marie swriting in english #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural #supernatural angst #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister reader #winchester!reader #dean winchest x platonic reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x half sister reader #dean winchester x half-sister!reader #dean winchester x half-sister reader #dean winchester x half sister!reader

[wraithlafitte]

you're no femme fatale

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

CONTENT: use of y/n, dubcon (mission sequence), soft dom!reader, guided masturbation, light degradation (m!receiving), stripping, begging, scratching, hair pulling, handjob, exhibitionism if you squint

word count: 3.3k

a/n: anon request here! enjoy 🖤 honestly felt like i was scraping the bottom of the barrel to keep this interesting LOL hope it's what you wanted

"No. No way in hell I'm doing that," you said, throwing up your hands and backing away from the table, littered with piles of Sam's research.

"Aw, come on, Y/N," Sam protested. "You're the only one of us that could do it."

"I am not entertaining some dirty old man for this," you snapped, snatching up a museum scan of the artifact you were supposed to steal. "We'll find another way."

"If there was another way, I'd be asking you to do that," Sam said, furrowing his brow. "This is the path of least resistance. You get in his office, slip it into your dress while he's not looking, and we'll come get you after ten minutes. That's it."

You huffed a sigh and crossed your arms.

Just then, Dean returned from his fast food run, greasy paper bags in hand. "Hey, nerds," he greeted impishly. "Grub's on."

You rolled your eyes as he plopped the bags right in the middle of Sam's papers.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Dean asked, settling himself into a chair and unwrapping a double cheeseburger.

"You would know if you had stayed to help make it," you replied annoyedly.

Dean flicked his eyebrows. "No need to get testy."

Sam sighed, deciding to intervene before things got ugly. You and Dean weren't exactly known for getting along, tolerating each other just enough to get jobs done when you had to. This was mostly due to the fact that you thought Dean was a douchebag, and he just dished back whatever you threw at him.

"The best plan we've got so far is that Y/N seduces the guy," Sam explained.

Dean snorted, almost spitting out his too-large bite of burger. "I'm sorry what?"

"I figure we'll never be able to get in there during the event, since it'll be so locked down," Sam continued. "Our best bet is getting him to let one of us in."

"Have you seen her?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and giving you a once-over. "Not exactly the seducing type."

You looked down at your current outfit. Cargo pants and a mens t-shirt topped with a utility vest and a leather bomber jacket. He had a point, although not for the reasons he thought. You could dress up, you just chose to dress practically. More pockets for knives. No, you just weren't sure you'd be able to convince the man you wanted him. Seventy-something sleazebags weren't exactly high on your to-fuck list.

"For once, I agree with Dean." You tossed the photo back onto the table. "Can we think of something else, please?"

"Yeah, as much as I'd like to see her try and pretty up to get in some old dude's pants, there's gotta be a more surefire way," Dean said with his mouth full. "Cuz you're no femme fatale," he added pointedly.

You were getting a little annoyed at his jabs. "You don't think I can do it?" you asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"Sister, I don't think you could seduce a virgin," Dean scoffed.

You turned to Sam, bristling. "That's it then. I'll do it."

"What?" Dean said loudly through his half-chewed bite.

Sam looked at you with concern. "Are you sure? Just because Dean-"

"I'm sure." You set your jaw confidently. "Let's go to the charity event."

"We're heading out to the car," Sam called through the bathroom door, where you were putting on the finishing touches to your makeup.

"Be right there," you called back, surveying yourself in the mirror. Not bad, you thought, considering the last time you put on this much makeup was prom night. You had tried to go for something an old man would like: a classic red lip and smoky eye that paired pretty well with the vintage-looking slinky black satin dress you'd found at the thrift store around the corner. It went down to your ankles, showing off your heels, and had a long slit that made its way up your leg to your hip.

You threw your coat on and hurried out the door, hopping into the backseat of the Impala. Sam glanced at you in the rearview mirror and raised his eyebrows appreciatively, but Dean didn't spare you a second glance. You were annoyed, since half the reason you were doing this was to prove him wrong, but there would be plenty of time to show off later.

As the Impala peeled out of the hotel parking lot, you took a deep swig from the flask you kept in your coat pocket. This better work.

Neither of the boys helped you out of the car when you arrived.

"Chivalry is dead," you announced after almost stumbling onto your face getting out. You tossed your coat back into the backseat, revealing your outfit to the two hunters.

Suddenly Sam was all-too-eager to offer you his arm, and the two of you headed inside, Dean close behind. You hadn't missed the way his eyes widened when you dropped your coat, so you swung your hips a little as you walked. That'll show him.

The plan worked better than you could have hoped. The sleazy old something-inaire led you to his office, hand wrapped around your waist as you clung to his arm, pretending to laugh at his stupid sexist old man jokes.

As he clicked the heavy oak door shut, you quickly scanned the room, trying to find the artifact you came for. There. On his desk. All you had to do was grab it, and-

The old man grabbed you by the hips, pulling you flush against his body. "Where were we, sweetheart?"

Insides roiling with disgust, you turned around and placed your hands on his chest, giving him the sweetest smile you could muster. "Right here," you said cattily, batting your eyelashes as you grabbed him by the lapels and led him backwards to the desk.

Here goes nothing, you thought, and pulled the old guy in for a kiss. Trying to ignore the way his tongue dug into your mouth, you felt around behind you for the artifact.

Got it. You quickly palmed the object and broke the kiss, looking up at the old man through your lashes. Now Sam or Dean was gonna bust down the door, claiming you as his missing drunk sister.

Aaaaany minute now.

The old man smiled wolfishly and you felt his hands creeping lower, lower, until he grabbed your ass firmly, jerking you closer to him and capturing your lips again.

Your heart hammered in your chest. This was not going how it was supposed to. You tried to wiggle away, but the guy was surprisingly strong for his age.

"Where you going, baby?" he asked, eyes glinting.

"I think I- I have to go," you said, aware that you were sounding a little panicked.

"You wanted this," he reminded you, giving your ass a tight squeeze. He swung you around and pushed you into the leather couch across from the desk. You tried to scramble up, but it was hard with your tight dress and the artifact still clutched in your hand, desperately being concealed, so the old man grabbed you easily by the hair, forcing you to stay down.

"Now why don't we put those pretty lips to use?"

The door swung open with a bang. The old man looked up, startled, releasing his death grip on your hair.

"There you are," came the fake-laughing voice of Dean.

"Who are you?" demanded the old man. "Get out of here!"

"Sorry man, this is my sister," Dean said, raising his hands apologetically. "She gets really hammered, acts like a slut. Gotta get her home." He helped you up, and you smiled and giggled, putting on the drunk-girl act.

Dean helped you hurry out of the room, the old man looking disappointed and angry at being cockblocked.

"Thanks," you whispered once you were down the hall and out of earshot. "What a creep."

"Please tell me you got it," Dean said darkly, weaving you through the crowd. You slipped the artifact into his suit pocket, giving it a pat for good measure.

"Didn't do that for nothing." You winked at him and pushed him away to walk the rest of the way to the car on your own two feet.

Dean stared after you, dumbfounded. He tried not to fixate on the way your hips swayed in that dress as you walked away proudly. God, that dress! It hugged your body perfectly, and Dean would be lying if he said he hadn't been eyeing you all night. His cock was semi-hard in his dress pants, an annoying reminder of just how much you'd proved him wrong.

"Come on, dickhead," you yelled out the back window of the Impala. Dean realized starkly that he had stopped in place thinking about your tits.

"Dammit," he muttered, hurrying around to the driver's seat.

The three of you piled into your hotel room to debrief from the mission. You assured the boys that you were alright from your creepy encounter with the old guy, and that stealing the artifact was worth it. The way Dean watched you raptly as you began to disrobe was not lost on you.

"I've dealt with worse in my time," you reminded them, shaking out your hair. "I'm a solo female hunter. Sleazy men hit on me literally wherever I go." You plopped down on the bed and pulled your stockings off one by one.

"As long as you're sure," Sam said, stretching and yawning. "I'm gonna head back over to our room to get some sleep. You coming, Dean?"

Dean snapped out of his fantasy. "Uh, no. I'll be there in a little bit. Gotta talk to her about something."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Just don't bite each other's head off." And with that, he was gone.

You watched Dean from the shadows of the half-lit room. When he made no move to say anything, you did. "What do you need to talk about?" you asked, knowing full well. "Gonna say sorry cuz of how wrong you were?"

Dean flicked his eyes up to yours. Where had he been looking before?

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah. You did good."

You stood and sauntered over to where he sat in a straight-backed chair by the dresser. "But that's not all, is it?" You smirked at him and looked him up and down, gaze lingering on his crotch, where a tent had begun to form.

Dean covered his bulge with his hand and pressed down, growling. "You were a little too good."

"So, what? You stayed because you want me to help with that?" you teased, coming closer.

"Yeah," Dean said roughly, standing quickly.

"No," you said bluntly, taking him by the shoulder and pushing him back into the chair.

Dean grimaced. "Why? Please," he begged, face twisted in arousal.

You giggled. "Wow."

"What?" Dean snapped, eyes cracking open.

"Nothing," you said, smirking. "You could beg a little more, might help." You felt your own arousal start to pool in your panties.

"Please, Y/N." Dean looked up at you with wild eyes, squeezing his cock through his pants.

"Please what?" You cocked your head.

"Please... make me cum," he said finally, eyes dropping to your midriff, unwilling to hold your gaze.

You tilted his chin up so he would look at you again, feeling a certain sense of satisfaction that you had somehow reduced him to this begging, horny mess in the chair before you.

"All you had to do was ask," you said softly. You backed away and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Dean started to get up and follow you.

"No," you said, holding up a red-manicured finger. "Sit back down." You pointed.

Dean frowned but did as he was told. You smiled, delighted.

"You're having way too much fun with this," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry what was that?" you asked with a stern expression. "Do you want to cum or not?"

Dean's dick twitched in his pants. The way you bossed him around was really turning him on. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought." You twirled your hair thoughtfully. Dean whined impatiently.

"Tsk, tsk." You crossed your legs at an angle where he could almost see through the slit into your crotch. "Take your cock out."

Dean was all too happy to oblige, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants faster than you could say desperate, hiking up his dress shirt in the process.

"Wait," you interrupted before he could go any further. "Why don't you unbutton your shirt, too. Wouldn't want to make a mess." You smirked.

"Okay," Dean agreed breathily, practically tearing the two sides of the shirt from each other, exposing his muscular torso. You had seen him shirtless before, but there was something about the way he was breathing, stomach rising and falling quickly as he panted, that turned you on when it wouldn't normally.

"Now you can take your dick out," you said. You held your breath a little as his cock came into view. He was fully hard now, and dripping. He squeezed the base, moaning.

"Now what?" he asked, eyes shut as he lightly stroked his cock with his fingertips.

"You need me to tell you how to jack off?" you asked meanly. To your surprise, Dean moaned loudly at that.

He began stroking his cock, slowly at first, building up speed as he could no longer contain himself. A near-constant string of quiet whimpers and moans fell from his lips. You took note of the way he swiped his thumb over his leaking slit, spreading it around to aid his fingers.

"Look at me," you instructed. You wanted to see that wild look in his eyes again, and were instantly rewarded as his eyes flew open to meet yours. His mouth fell open as he gasped when he saw you.

"Forget I was here?" you teased. Dean gulped and shook his head vehemently. His hand slowed, and he started tugging himself less frantically, holding eye contact with you intensely.

"Fuck," he whispered hoarsely. "You're so hot, wanna see you."

You smirked. "Only because you admitted it." You hiked up your skirt, spreading the slit open so he could see your black lace panties.

Dean devoured your skin with his eyes, rubbing the head of his cock in circles with his thumb.

You dropped the straps of your dress so that they hung loosely around your shoulders and ran your long nails across your collarbones, petting your shoulders. Then you took hold of the neckline and pulled it down, freeing your tits from the dress.

"Better than I imagined, baby," Dean groaned at the sight, as his hips bucked into his hand.

You took one of your breasts in your hand, squeezing it towards your chest. "You imagined?" you lilted, smiling.

"Been thinkin' about you all night," he admitted shamelessly. "How good your tits looked in that dress. How good- ngh- you looked walkin' away from me."

Your other hand started creeping into your skirt. "Thought I couldn't even seduce a virgin. What does that make you?"

Dean growled, jerking his cock faster. "I don't- fuck-"

"Maybe you're just a manwhore," you purred, hopping off the bed to approach him.

"Please," Dean gasped, tossing his head back. "I need you."

You scoffed. "I'm not that lacking in self-respect." You lightly scratched your fingernails down the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, groaning, hand stilling.

You leaned in to murmur in his ear. "No, you're gonna take care of this all... by... yourself." You laced your fingers into his short hair, scratching his scalp, and pulled his head back. He relaxed and his eyes fluttered closed at the feeling.

"So take care of it," you remind him harshly, giving his hair a hard tug before letting go. Dean raised his head hazily and began to stroke his dick again, gasping. It was angry red, practically begging for release, but Dean seemed determined to tease himself until he couldn't take it anymore, which you suspected would be soon.

You turned your back to him and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor in a silken puddle. You heard Dean moan softly, sound of skin rubbing skin growing faster. You smiled to yourself as an idea occurred to you.

Against a backdrop of street lamplight coming through the window and lewd noises coming from Dean, you padded barefoot wearing only your underwear to the other side of the bed, where your pajamas lay folded neatly on the nightstand. You unfolded them and spread them out on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked hoarsely. "Don't- please stay- I need to see you," he whimpered finally.

You ignored him, as you had been planning to do, and put your pajamas on dramatically slowly to the soundtrack of Dean begging you to stop, stay naked, help him.

You turned back to him when you were finished and a rush of arousal hit you at the sight: Dean, cock in hand, sitting exactly where you had left him, sweaty and gasping and looking at you with a wild, desperate expression. You moaned softly in spite of yourself.

"Poor baby," you pout, rounding the bed to sit next to him again. "Haven't you come yet?"

Dean's hand was working overtime, forearm muscles flexing and rippling beneath his skin where his sleeve was rolled up.

"Can't," he breathed.

"You can't come?" You feigned surprise, even though you had known for several minutes that he was probably going to wait for your permission.

"Need you," Dean panted. "Can't do it- mm- without you."

"Sure you can," you said, running your nails down his chest. He shivered intensely.

Dean whimpered, face contorting in frustration. "I can't."

"What, I got you so turned on you can't even jack off without me?" you tease, fingertips stopping right above his happy trail.

"Please touch me."

"I am touching you," you reply smoothly, digging your fingers into his stomach.

Dean rolled his eyes, although you weren't sure if it was sass or pleasure. "Please," he insisted, whining.

"Useless." You replaced his hand with yours, gripping his cock tightly as you stroked it for him. "Can't even make yourself come without my help."

Dean went slack-jawed, head falling back once more. "Uh-huh," he moaned breathily. He ground his hips upwards, trying to find more pressure or friction or something but getting nothing but what you gave him.

"You're a useless whore, right?" you taunted. He would tell you if you went too far, right?

"Yes," Dean groaned loudly. You almost clapped your hand over his mouth, certain that Sam could hear through the walls.

"Shhh, be quiet baby," you said instead. You swiped your thumb over the head of his dick and he hissed, biting his lip. Your other hand went down to cup his balls, giving them a light squeeze.

Suddenly Dean's whole body tensed and his eyes flew open. "Shit- I'm so close, please," he panted. His abs flexed, indicating that he was telling the truth.

You increased the pressure on both hands slightly. "Go on then."

Dean let out a sound somewhere between a strangled gasp and a groan as he came, spurting over his stomach and your hands. You kept pumping, using his cum to aid your efforts, until he was begging you to stop between gasping breaths. Only then did you let go of him, admiring your handiwork.

One Dean Winchester (formerly unbelieving of your sexual prowess), spread over a chair, covered in cum, sweaty and panting and utterly fucked out.

"Thank you," he whispered weakly after a moment.

"Will you ever doubt me again?" you asked, smirking.

He rolled his head to the side to look at you. "No. Fuck, that was hot." Dean grinned. "Actually, I changed my mind. Maybe I should doubt you more often."

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever, Winchester. Clean up and go to bed."

Dean got out of the chair stiffly, winked at you, and went to do as he was told.

dividers by @cafekitsune and @saradika

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #supernatural x reader #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn smut #spn fanfiction #userwraith

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hide and Seek

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Cas x child Winchester!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you have powers, and you use them to your advantage during a game with your brothers

“Ready or not, here I co-ome!” Dean sing-songed as he opened his eyes and began roaming the bunker. “Really Sam?” Dean huffed. “I’m not blind, you know. You’re pathetic at this, Y/N beats you every time.”

“Hey,” Sam protested as he crawled out of his hiding spot. “She doesn’t have to hide six and a half feet.”

“Yeah, well she’s also six years old, man.”

“With powers! Teleportation kinda gives her the advantage man, I mean she hears us coming and she just poofs away!”

“That’s it!” Dean grinned. “We get Cas to look for her. He teleports too, if she can’t hear him coming, she won’t be able to—“

“No.” Both boys jumped in surprise when Cas appeared in front of them. “I can’t find her, I searched the whole bunker.”

“Dude,” Dean frowned. “How did you—“

“I heard you were playing hide and seek. Considering the length of last time you played this game, I thought I’d save us all some time, but I couldn’t find her.”

“Great,” Dean groaned. “Hey, Y/N! You win, c’mon out!”

“I guess we should look for her,” Sam said after an uncomfortably long silence. “I don’t know why you agreed to this game in the first place, it take for—“

“Hold on,” Dean interrupted as his phone rang. “It’s Jody.” He answered it. “Hey Jody, how’s—“

“I wanna talk to her!”

The three men turned in surprise when you ran up—seemingly out of nowhere—and went straight to Dean, holding out your hand for the phone.

“Where’d you come from?” Dean demanded.

“Can I talk to Jody? Pleeeaaase?” You begged, ignoring Dean’s question.

Dean relented, and after a few minutes you handed the phone back to him before skipping off.

“We’re not playing anymore!” He called out, hoping you weren’t leaving to start another round.

You didn’t respond.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy

#dean winchester #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural dean #the winchesters #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x sister!reader #spn sam winchester

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Hook Man | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions of religious trauma/parental abuse

Word Count: 4869

A/N: Guys. We hit a bit of a milestone earlier in the week. Just wanted to say in celebration that I am so beyond grateful for all of your love and support. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! Giving big big kisses to all of you!!! Taglist is open!!

Edit: Hey.... I suck I forgot to add the taglist when I published. So sorry!!! fixed now!!!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You and Dean were sat at an outdoor cafe; coffee cups in hand. He was clacking away at his laptop while you wrote in your journal. You wrote your excerpt on the shapeshifter next to a drawing of Dean’s necklace. 

“Is that…?” Dean asked, pointing to your journal.

You nodded. 

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he said.

“No offense, lovebug, but you don’t know much of anything about me,” you retorted.

He scoffed. “Will you take the compliment and be quiet?”

“I didn’t hear a compliment,” you giggled. “Well, maybe in ‘Dean Winchester Land’ it was a compliment.”

“Oh, shut up,” he responded playfully. 

Sam hung up the payphone he was standing in and came back over to your table.

“Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin’ cold over here, Francis,” Dean jabbed at his brother.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” you told him.

“So, anything?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam huffed. “I had ‘em check the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Does fitting Dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.”

“Sam, I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t think Dad wants to be found.”

Sam looked disappointed.

“Check this out.” Dean turned his laptop around to you and Sam. “It’s a news item out of Planes Courier. Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

“Thank god, a short trip,” you sighed. 

“ ‘The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road,’ “ Sam read from the article.

“Keep reading.” Dean nodded at his laptop.

“ ‘Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.’ “

That last line caught your attention. “Could be something interesting.”

“Or it could be nothing at all,” Sam protested. “One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.”

“But what if it is? Dad would check it out,” Dean responded.

***

The one hundred mile drive concluded with the boys dropping you off at a sorority house. 

“Remind me why I have to play barbies for the week again?” you asked.

“Because this is Lori Sorensen’s sorority house; the witness from the killing,” Sam replied.

“Great,” you mumbled.

“Have fun making s’mores and singing campfire songs,” Dean remarked.

“Bite me,” you snarked. “You’re going to a frat, though, Steve McQueen, so I wouldn’t be so cocky.” 

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he grumbled. 

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” you said and shouldered your duffel bag. You bid them goodbye and reluctantly marched up to the door of the sorority house.

A girl with long, dark curls opened the door. “Hi,” she said. “Can I… help you?”

“Yeah, I’m (Y/N),” you explained. “I’m your sorority sister from Ohio State. Do you guys have an extra bed I could sleep in? I just transferred here.”

“Sure,” she grinned. “I’m Taylor, by the way.” 

“Nice to meet you.” 

She led you inside and introduced you to Lori Sorensen. She was a sweet girl; very naive and a little stuck-up. Taylor seemed a little more like a party girl, but still relatively tame. You decided you could gel with these girls for the time being. 

They told you they were headed to Sunday service at Lori’s father’s church and invited you to go with them. You obliged.

In the middle of the introductory rites, you heard the heavy church door slam shut. Your head swiveled to find Sam and Dean frozen and looking guilty. You scoffed amusedly and rolled your eyes, turning your attention forward for the rest of the service. 

Taylor invited you and Lori out to a party after the service, but Lori said she couldn’t. Her father had dinner with her every Sunday since her mother passed away. She and Taylor hugged and Taylor bid you goodbye before heading off.

Sam and Dean came over to you and Lori.

“Guys!” you said excitedly. “Sam, Dean, this is Lori.” You introduced her to them. “They’re my friends from Ohio. They transferred with me.” 

“I saw you inside,” she told them.

“We don’t wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and…”

Dean cut his brother off. “We wanted to say how sorry we were.”

You knew where this was going; he was cruising for another hookup.

“I kind of know what you’re going through,” Sam broke back in. “I-I saw someone..get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.”

Lori nodded slightly. Just then, her father came up to your group.

“Dad, um, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). They’re new students.”

Dean shook the reverend’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.”

“Thank you very much,” he smiled. “It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.” 

“Yes, sir,” you replied and began leading him away from Sam and Lori. “Actually, we’re looking for a new church group…”

***

Later that day, you and the boys were sitting together in the local library. Sam relayed to you what Lori had told him about the passing of the guy she was with.

“So, you believe her?” Dean asked him.

“I do,” he nodded.

“Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.” Dean smirked at him. 

“You think almost everything with a vagina and legs is hot, Dean,” you remarked.

“Not you,” he jabbed back, still smirking.

You clutched a hand to your chest. “I’m hurt, you dick.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“Can we focus, please?” Sam broke in. “There’s something in her eyes. And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.”

“Wait, the body suspended? That sounds like the—”

 Sam cut you off. “Yeah, I know, the Hook Man legend.” 

“That’s one of the most famous urban legends ever,” Dean added. “You don’t think that we’re dealing with the Hook Man.”

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began,” said Sam.

“Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn’t a man at all. What if it’s some kind of spirit?” 

You had the librarian bring over boxes of arrest records. The three of you poured through pages upon pages for hours. 

“Hey, check this out. 1862,” Sam said finally. “A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, ‘some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh.’ “

“Get this, the murder weapon?” Dean was looking at another page. “Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook.” 

You pointed to a page in Sam’s book. “Look where all this happened. Nine Mile Road.”

“Same place where the frat boy was killed,” Sam chimed in. 

“Nice job, Dr. Venkamen and Annie Potts. Let’s check it out,” the older brother quipped.

The three of you headed to Nine Mile Road. Dean parked off the road in a clearing in the woods. He popped the trunk and handed Sam a shotgun. “Here you go.”

“If it is a spirit, buckshot won’t do much good,” Sam said.

“Yeah, rock salt. It won’t kill ‘em. But it’ll slow ‘em down.” Dean led the three of you through the clearing. 

“That’s pretty good. You and Dad think of this?” 

“I told you. You don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius.”

“Cool it, Winchester. You and your daddy aren’t the first people to think of rock salt bullets.” You loaded your own gun with shells of your own.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“They’re a bitch to roll,” you said.

“Oh, one hundred percent,” he remarked. 

You suddenly heard rustling in the bushes.

“Over there,” you whispered to Sam. The two of you aimed your guns and cocked it. 

The “ghost” came out from behind the trees. A sheriff. 

‘Dammit.’

“Put the gun down now!” he yelled. “Now! Put your hands behind your head.”

“Wait, wait, okay!” Dean told him. 

You immediately dropped your gun and put your hands up.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!”

You three obeyed.

“Now get down on your bellies,” he commanded. “Come on, do it!”

“Are you just on a power trip or something? ‘Cause— ah!” you were cut off by a sharp kick to the shin from Sam. 

The sheriff brought the three of you into the station. It was early the next morning by the time you were able to leave.

“Saved your asses!” Dean jeered. “Talked the sheriff down to a fine. I am Matlock.”

“How was it that you were left in charge of talking him down?” You raised a brow at him. “And how in the fuck did you do it?”

“Sweetheart, this may surprise you, but I’m good at my job. And I told him Sam was a dumbass pledge, you were his girlfriend we’d dragged along, and we were hazing you.”

You and Sam both recoiled at the idea of dating each other.

“First of all, ew,” you started, “No offense, Sam.”

“None taken.”

“But what about the shotguns?”

“I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank.”

“And he believed you?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, Sam looks like a dumbass pledge.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You stuck your tongue out at Sam.

Moments later, several officers ran out of the building to their cruisers. Barely needing to share a look with the boys, you hurried into the car and sped away to follow them.

You could see Lori wrapped in a disposable blanket in front of the sorority house you were staying in. You weren’t exactly sure what was going on, but you had no doubt that it was another murder. The stretcher carrying a body bag rolling out of the front door affirmed that thought seconds later.

Dean parked the Impala around the back of the house. 

“Why would the Hook Man come here?” Sam asked as the three of you crept around the building. “This is a long way from Nine Mile Road.”

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s about something else,” Dean suggested. 

You pulled his arm back seconds later to avoid being seen by your “sorority sisters.” You used the fact that you had now pretty much pulled yourself in front of him to allow you to lead the way up to the second floor. 

While Dean made a stupid joke about a naked pillow fight, Sam was busy giving you a boost before climbing up himself. You looked back down at the ground to see Dean struggling to find his footing.

“Need help?” you smirked.

“No,” he grumbled.

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

You waited patiently, leaning your head in your hands on the railing of the balcony and smiling down at him. He struggled for a few more moments before he conceded. All he did was open and close his hand he was extending upwards, similar to a toddler asking to be picked up.

“What’s the magic word?” you sing-songed.

“Come on!” he hissed. “Please?”

“There we go,” you smiled. You dug your heels into the ground and pulled him up.

You then realized the window you were entering was the one in Lori and Taylor’s closet. You hoped to god in that moment that Taylor wasn’t the one dead.

Your fears were realized, however, when you entered Lori and Taylor’s room to find the words “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?” crudely etched into the wall above Taylor’s blood soaked bed. You didn’t exactly get attached to people on hunts, but seeing good people die was never easy for you. It didn’t get easier. Your dad would call you soft, but you always liked to look at your compassion as a strength.

“ ‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?’ That’s right out of the legend,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man all right.” Dean tapped his nose as he spoke. “It’s definitely a spirit.”

“Yeah, I’ve never smelled ozone this strong before,” Sam muttered.

“(Y/N), you okay?” Dean asked you. 

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah. Fine. It’s just… look at this symbol.” You were referencing the one beneath the writing. “Does that look familiar to you?”

Your head jerked toward the sound of footsteps approaching. You quickly shooed Sam and Dean back into the closet and out of the house. Thankfully, you made it back to the car without being seen. You pulled the copy you’d made at the library of one of the pages on Jacob Karns out of the backseat. That was where you had seen the cross symbol; on Karns’s hook. 

You showed it to the boys. “Told ya.”

“Alright, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down,” Dean said.

Sam took the page from your hand. “ ‘After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery. In an unmarked grave.’ “ He flicked the page with his finger, looking aggravated; as were you and Dean.

“Super,” the older brother muttered.

“Ok. So we know it’s Jacob Karns. But we still don’t know where he’ll manifest next. Or why,” Sam pointed out.

“I could just be spitballing here, but Lori definitely has something to do with it,” you said, looking up at the sorority house.

***

You managed to get into a party at the fraternity house Sam and Dean were staying in later that night. Dean had been busy mingling with thin college girls dressed in mini skirts while Sam stuck to the outside wall. You bounced around from talking to Sam and hustling some of the drunk frat guys in multiple rounds of pool.

The three of you reunited around the pool table you’d been dominating that night.

“Man, you’ve been holding out on me,” Dean told Sam. “This college thing is awesome!” He smiled and winked at a passing girl.

Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. “This wasn’t really my experience.”

“Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A’s?”

Sam nodded. You chortled.

“What a geek. Alright, you do your homework?” 

“Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori? So I think I came up with something.” Sam unfolded a piece of paper. 

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage,” Dean read.

Your eyebrows knitted together.

“There’s a pattern here,” Sam explained. “In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out— get this— with a sharp instrument.”

“What’s the connection to Lori?” Dean asked.

“Her dad. Man of religion who openly preaches against immorality,” you pointed out. “Maybe this time, though, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his kid.”

“Reverend Sorensen,” Dean tsked. “You think he’s summoning the spirit?”

“Maybe it’s like when a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place,” you suggested.

“Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.”

“Without the reverend ever even knowing it,” Sam chimed in.

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight,” Dean told his brother.

“What about you?” 

Dean looked over to the opposite side of the pool table where the blonde you’d been playing with smiled at him. He reluctantly said, “(Y/N) and I are gonna go see if we can find that unmarked grave.” 

“We are? I wanted to play more eight-ball,” you told him. 

He looked back over at the blonde, back at you, and shook his head in disappointment. “C’mon. I’m not happy about it either.”

***

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go back?” you asked Dean as the two of you trudged through the Old North Cemetery. You were holding shovels and flashlights searching for the grave of Jacob Karns.

He shot you a look.

“I know, I know, I’m kidding,” you laughed. “But seriously. Now that we’re… acquaintances, we should go out to a bar sometime. Preferably one with a pool table.”

“That’d be cool, actually,” he said, smirking at you. “You’re pretty good.”

“What, at pool?”

He nodded. “I could probably still kick your ass, though.”

“You’re on, pretty boy.”

He stopped and turned to you. “Don’t objectify me.”

“What?” you asked, stopping next to him. “You know you’re gorgeous. You frequently use it to your advantage.” You marched on.

You smiled when you heard him mutter, “You are so confusing, woman.”

You walked for a few more minutes before your flashlight landed on a grave marked with that cross symbol from Taylor’s room. “Jackpot.”

You and Dean set to work exhuming Jacob’s corpse. Your back and shoulders ached more and more the deeper you dug. “How fucking far down is six feet?” you remarked breathlessly. 

“I don’t know, but next time, I get to watch the cute girl’s house,” he replied.

“Aw, you don’t wanna spend quality time with this cute girl?” you asked playfully. 

He eyed you strangely with a lopsided smile. 

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing. You’re just funny,” he told you.

You smiled back and got back to digging. Your shovel finally hit the wooden box lying below. You broke through it to reveal his corpse. Or at least, what remained of it. 

“Hello, preacher,” Dean said. He threw his shovel aside and helped you out of the hole you had dug. After he had climbed out, you poured salt and lighter fluid all over the bones. 

“Goodbye, preacher.” Dean threw a match down into the grave.

Your nose twisted up in disgust. “I will never get used to that smell.”

“What, burnt, hundred-year-old preacher? Me neither.”

You and Dean packed up and headed back to the car that was parked in the cemetery’s parking lot. Your body was exhausted. 

“Um, weird question,” you started. 

He turned to you and threw his shovel and duffel bag in the trunk. 

“You think we could sleep in your car for a bit? I’m running on two days of no sleep.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It should all be over now and Sam should be layin’ it down with Lori.”

And so, you did. You stretched out over the backseat, and Dean laid down on the front. A few moments of silence passed between the two of you, and strangely, you no longer felt tired. You supposed it was the strangeness of the situation. You were now sharing a somewhat intimate moment with a man you despised just weeks prior. You weren’t quite sure where your relationship with Dean was heading, and that bothered you a bit.

“Dean?”

“Hm.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

***

Four hours of shut-eye later, you felt recharged. You awoke to the sound of Dean’s phone vibrating over which Sam told you to meet him at a hospital.

“Hospital? Why? Is he okay?” you asked Dean, climbing over the front seat to sit shotgun. 

“I think so, but he said the reverend’s hurt.”

About fifteen minutes later, you were walking down a long corridor only to be stopped by two cops in wide-brimmed hats. 

The sheriffs put a hand to Dean’s chest to stop him.

“No, it’s alright, we’re with him. He’s my brother,” he explained. “Hey! Brother!” he called, waving dorkishly at Sam.  

“Let them through.”

“Thanks.” 

You and Dean began walking toward Sam, who met you in the middle.

“You okay?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah,” sighed Sam.

“What the hell happened?” 

“Hook Man.”

You looked incredulous. “You saw him?”

“Damn right. Why didn’t you torch the bones?” Sam responded.

“We did,” you rebutted, confused. “You sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns?”

“It sure as hell looked like him,” Sam returned. “And that’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching on to the reverend.”

“Well, duh, he wouldn’t send Hook Man after himself,” you remarked.

“I think it’s latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.” He whispered that last part.

“Damn.” You gritted your teeth. “I could see how that could upset her.”

Sam nodded. “She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.”

“Ok, so she’s conflicted,” Dean chimed in. “And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he’s doing the punishing for her, huh?”

“Right,” the younger brother nodded. “Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair.”

“Remind me not to piss this girl off,” Dean muttered. “But we burned those bones, buried them in salt, why didn’t that stop him?”

“We must’ve missed something,” you said. 

“No, we burned everything in that coffin.”

“Did you get the hook?” Sam asked the two of you.

Realization struck you. “Fuck,” you grumbled. “No.”

“Why does that matter?” Dean asked.

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him,” Sam told him.

“So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power.”

“So if we find the hook—”

The three of you finished Sam’s sentence in unison, grinning. “We stop the Hook Man.”

“Well, back to the drawing board,” you said as the three of you began walking away from the reverend’s hospital room.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“Do you know where the hook is?” you raised your eyebrows at him. 

He said nothing.

“Exactly,” you giggled.

***

Your next stop was the library for the second time this hunt. As much as you liked to read, obnoxious amounts of research was not your thing. Finally, you thought you’d found something. “Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary. ‘Karns, Jacob. Personal effects: disposition thereof.’ “

“Does it mention the hook?” Sam asked you.

“I don’t know. ‘Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner’s house of worship, St. Barnabas Church,’ “ you read aloud. “That’s where Lori’s dad preaches.”

“Where Lori lives, too?” Sam asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

“Maybe that’s why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends’ daughters for the past two hundred years,” Dean added.

“Yeah, but I think someone would’ve noticed a blood-stained, silver-handled hook hangin’ around the church or Lori’s house.”

Dean pulled out another book and slapped it down in front of you. “Check the church records.”

Sam pulled the book to sit between the two of you. You and he flipped through pages upon pages of records before he found something. “ ‘St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged.’ “ He sighed. “They melted it down. Made it into something else.”

“Goddammit,” you grumbled. 

Later that night, you and the boys returned to St. Barnabas Church. Dean shouldered a duffel bag and began leading you to the church. Sam followed close behind.

“Alright, we can’t take any chances,” the older brother began. “Anything silver goes in the fire.”

“I agree. So, Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in,” Sam added.

“Okay, take your pick,” you told him.

“I’ll take the house,” Sam responded.

“Dean and I will take the church, then.”

“We will?” the older brother asked.

“Yup.”

You led Dean up to the church. He called back to his brother. “Hey. Stay out of her underwear drawer.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice and giggled.

You took the top floor of the church while Dean scoured the basement. The two of you, along with Sam, met up in the furnace room. 

“I got everything that even looked silver,” Sam told you.

“Better safe than sorry,” Dean said. 

Your head turned upward at the sound of footsteps. You could hear Dean taking his gun from his jacket as you grabbed yours.

“Move, move,” Dean told you quietly.

You crept up the stairs as quietly as possible. When you got back to the ground floor, you could see Lori hunched over, her shoulders shaking. You lowered your gun and lightly pushed Sam forward. He shot you a look, but headed over to Lori anyway. You and Dean went back downstairs to continue melting the silver. 

“I feel for her,” you said quietly. “I know how much religion can fuck you up.” Silver clanked against the coals in the furnace as you spoke.

Dean turned his head to you. “You do?”

You nodded. “I’ve watched so many people go through crisis after crisis when their loved ones end up dead.”

“Me too,” he said earnestly. “Probably why I don’t pray.”

“Well, it’s a little difficult to believe in a higher power when all day, everyday is blood, guts, and monsters,” you remarked.

He chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t know if I’ve met one religious hunter.”

“I have,” you said. “My mom.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was somehow still convinced of ‘God’s plan.’ “

“Catholic?”

“Oh, very.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied playfully.

“Yeah, me too,” you smiled. “My dad wasn’t, but, uh, he had his… other issues.”

Before he could ask further questions, you heard commotion upstairs. It sounded like running heading toward the opposite side of the basement.

“C’mon,” Dean urged, sprinting out of the furnace room with his gun in hand. You followed closely behind. You could hear the breaking of boards and slamming of what you assumed were bodies that practically shook the walls that got louder as you got closer. Sam was maneuvering himself behind the Hook Man’s clunkily-moving apparition. 

Dean gruffly called to his brother, “Sam, drop!”

His brother obeyed and Dean shot the Hook Man, who disappeared.

“I thought we got all the silver,” you said.

“So did I,” the older brother answered.

“Then why is he still here?” Sam’s voice was frantic.

“Well, maybe we missed something!”

You looked around and noticed Lori’s cross necklace. “Lori, where did you get that chain?”

“My father gave it to me,” she responded nervously.

“Where’d your dad get it?” Sam asked.

“He said it was a church heirloom,” she answered quickly. “He gave it to me when I started school.”

“Is it silver?!”

“Yes!”

Sam ripped the chain off her and threw it to you. You caught it with ease and went to start running back down the hall when the invisible Hook Man started dragging his hook along the wall.  

You threw Sam your gun and started running down another corridor you hoped would bring you to the same destination. You could vaguely hear Dean say to his brother, “I’ll cover (Y/N), shoot anything that moves!” before you heard approaching quick footsteps behind you.

You sprinted down winding hallways and thankfully quickly made it to the furnace room. You threw the necklace into the fire and watched as it slowly began to melt. “C’mon, c’mon,” you muttered anxiously. It took longer than you would’ve liked, but the cross broke off the necklace and burned into ash. As soon as it did, you and Dean ran back to the latter’s brother to make sure the ghost was gone. Thankfully, he had, but Sam seemed injured. He was clutching his left shoulder and wincing. 

You called the police to the scene and urged them to send an ambulance. They arrived in no time, and Sam was able to get his injury patched up. 

“And you saw him, too?” A sheriff was asking you and writing in a notepad. “The man with the hook?”

“Yeah, we all saw him,” you responded. “We fought him off and then he ran.”

“And that’s all?” The sheriff was skeptical.

“Yes, sir.”

“Listen. You and those two boys—”

Dean came up behind you and answered for you. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re leaving town.”

You laughed at his response. Sam and Lori talking near the ambulance caught your eye. You continued watching them in the rearview mirror once you’d gotten in the backseat of the car. Sam soon left Lori, who looked after him sadly, and stooped down into the car. 

“We could stay,” Dean suggested. 

You could tell Sam wanted to, but he shook his head. A deflated air had settled over the car, but you knew the younger Winchester wasn’t ready for anything yet. He’d been dating Jessica for a year and a half and had just lost her less than four months ago. You knew he needed more time. The best way you knew to comfort him was to wrap your hands around his shoulders gently, minding his injury, from your place in the backseat. He tensed for a moment, but allowed you to hug him nonetheless. He responded by holding your arm with his good hand. And for a moment, if you closed your eyes, it was almost like hugging Steven again. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernaturals series rewrite #spn series rewrite

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— DEMONOLOGY AND HEARTACHE

SUMMARY : dean is a devout catholic and has never known a life outside the church, all his resolve is broken by the temptation of a hellish seductress

PAIRING : priest!dean winchester x demon!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS : explicit(18+), smut, p in v, oral (m. receiving), corruption kink, praise kink, priest au, priest kink, sub/dom dynamics, sub!dean, defiling holy stuff

WORD COUNT : 4.9k

A/N : title from an atreyu song. dean’s not undercover, just pure corruption. I’m going to hell. my sister said his seed is holy, lmaoo. this one fills my “Go to hell!”/“Where do you think I came from?” square for my @jacklesversebingo card. enjoy Dean’s holy seed (and I’m sorry if y’all are religious, I used to be religious, too, to make it worse) XX

Green eyes illuminated by moonlight. They flit across the dark and empty space of the nave casually. There’s a draught that makes him shudder, but he remains unphased. He makes sure the lights are off, double checks that the doors and windows are closed, and continues onward to his room to rest for the night. 

He’s still in his vestments, blending in with the darkness. He only becomes darker in the shadows of the hallways, making his way to the staircase leading to his room. The wooden stairs creak beneath his formal shoes, olden oak that’s more silent in the day thunders in the silent dark. 

A crucifix greets him when he’s at the top of the staircase and making the sign of the cross automatically, but slowly, with reverence. Moonlight kisses his delicate features; green eyes twinkle like a billion stars, gold lashes like the lustre of the sun’s reflection on the moon’s surface, freckles show clearly now beneath the exposing light. 

His splendour is unmatched even inside the grand cathedral. 

He makes his way blindly to his bedroom and wipes a hand over his stubble, scratching lightly at his jaw, thoughtfully planning out his next day. He gets to his room and begins to toe off his shoes as he pushes the door open all the way. 

He expects moonlight to strike his face, but it’s quiet and dark. He can smell firewood and something foul, unfamiliar. He thinks nothing of it, he can feel the breeze pushing between his curtains, and assumes it’s something outside. He turns around to shut the door and holds the wall for balance as he pulls his shoes off all the way. 

“Father,” he hears a soft voice, unknown to him. He turns quickly, half-scared, half-confused: how did someone get up here and why is there a woman in my room? were the first questions asked in his mind. The dim light on his bedside table lights up his room and reveals a nun in her nightgown sitting on his bed. 

He recognises her now and relaxed, only slightly. She’s new and arrived two weeks ago. Sister… something or another; it’s been a busy couple of weeks. 

She watches him curiously, her brows furrow and her eyes mysterious. She leans back casually on her arms, too relaxed for his comfort. The top of her nightgown undone, two strings hang loosely over her breasts. A chill teases his spine and rides up to the top of his head, prickling the freckled skin of his body. He doesn’t move. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks quietly, offering his hand to her to get her to stand from his bed. She stares at it indifferently. “You should be in your quarters,” he adds, reaching out for her arm instead. 

“I’ve been thinking about what I confessed to you yesterday, Father,” she murmurs, shaking her arm out of his hand. He sighs tiredly, but smiles kindly at her anyway. He can’t remember her confession, everyone confesses multiple times about multiple things, and goes to him—searching for repentance. 

“You’re forgiven, you need to move forward,” he reassures her.

“I don’t think I can,” she replies almost instantly. He raises a brow, but lets her continue. “Does that… make me a bad person?” She asks, concern and guilt laces her voice.

“No, it makes you human.” He purses his lips and takes her soft hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You should sleep, we can talk tomorrow,” he tries again, loosening his grip on her cool hand, but she keeps holding onto it. 

He narrows his eyes, his jaw clenches when she lifts her cotton gown. He raises a brow when she’s standing up on her knees, and a crease forms between his eyebrows. Her other hand curls around the back of his neck and he opens his mouth to question her, moving back slightly. Instead, her grip becomes firm and her warm lips press against his lips and he stiffens, confused. 

He can feel her hand around his wrist moving and her gown ruffles. He feels her warmth beneath his fingers, wetness against his fingertips, that makes him gasp and pull away. He snatches his hand away from between her legs and sees that she’s smiling knowingly. 

“What are you doing?” He asks in disbelief, but his heart is pounding, sending blood to his cock. “You need to leave,” he clears his throat. Heat, like hellfire, washes over his body, and turns away to hide himself when his face flushes and his cock twitches.

“Come on, Father,” she murmurs provocatively. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply before turning to face her with a glare. “I know what you’ve been dreaming of,” she laughs mischievously, sitting back on her legs. She pulls down the top of her nightgown, freeing her breast to play with her nipple. Her other hand moves down between her legs, she opens herself by parting her legs, and starts to tease her wet slit while he watches. 

“Go to hell!” He shouts at her, looking away and trying to get out of his room. He reaches the doorknob and gets the door open only for it to slam shut. 

“Where do you think I came from?” She asks darkly, and his stomach sinks. He shakes the doorknob wildly and pulls as hard as he can, but it doesn’t budge. He feels her hand grab the back of his shirt and she flings him across the room so he lands on the bed. He scrambles up on it and tries to get away when her eyes flash completely black. “You’re getting rusty, Dean, ignoring all those omens,” she shakes her head and tsks, climbing up on the bed with him. 

He thinks about what she says, he never thought much about the mutilations because of the wolves that roam freely, or the electrical storms because of the cold and the usage of heaters, or the crop failures due to the weather. He shouldn’t have brushed it off, but he hadn’t encountered demonic activity in years. This whole time, it was circling him and he didn’t even notice. 

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” he starts to whisper, grabbing the rosary from around his neck. “Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incur-” She grabbed the rosary from him roughly, quieting the exorcism from continuing, and stared at it with a wicked smile before pulling it harshly. 

“That won’t work on me, baby.” The beads fell over his body when the rosary snapped. Wooden beads and black beads bounce on his bed, then scatter loudly onto the floor, rolling and sliding across wood until they stop on their own or hit a wall. 

“You… you were making me dream all those things,” he accuses breathlessly. She nods wordlessly, stepping in between his parted legs with her hands on his bent knees. She bites her lip, stares lustfully at the black attire he wears. A holy man. 

“I know… you liked it,” she whispers, causing him to swallow nervously. “I watched you pleasure yourself every time you woke up,” she admits shamelessly, fingers meeting his belt to get it off. He squirmed and grabbed her hand to stop her, but his cock was hard just remembering his hedonistic actions and the lewd dreams that haunted him every night for weeks. “What was it like dreaming of how soft I feel? Do you think your hand feels as good as I do inside? Do you want my mouth like you loved using it in your dreams?” She continues to tease, leaning over him, hands sliding up the front of his body. 

He was warm and taut beneath her hands. His body hums with pleasure, he aches to touch her despite knowing it was wrong. He craves to feel her body beneath his own, wrapped around him so tightly. He hates himself for it, but it’s all his mind could think of, especially when he could feel her warm breath over his tingly lips. 

“What do you want from me?” He asks quietly, staring deeply into her black eyes. She blinks and they return to normal eyes again, a sweet smile growing on her face. It could’ve fooled him, that warmth that sparkled inside—it must actually be hellfire. 

“I want you to beg me to fuck you, I want you to need it really bad,” she whispered hotly, tracing the buttons on his shirt. He swallowed anxiously, but he couldn’t resist the temptation of her pink lips and soft skin, supple breasts in plain sight, smooth thighs pressed against his. His whole body longed for the feel of her lips, her hands, for everything of hers to be on him. 

“I… I can’t do that,” he choked out. He grabs her hands and moves them away from his body then scoots up on his bed to put some distance between them.

“You can,” she encourages him with a wicked smile, crawling up to him. “You will,” she promises, reaching between his legs for his belt. 

He squirms, weakly attempting to push her away because that’s what his instincts told him to do. She’s a demon, he’s a priest. She is unholy and he’s supposed to be an intermediary for God, Jesus, the angels, the Holy Spirit, and everything else that’s good. He can’t just lay with a woman, especially when she comes directly from hell. 

She didn’t make a single move. She just waited for him and her hair fell prettily over her shoulder when she tilted her head at him expectantly. Her skin looked smooth and her lips were pink and they looked soft. He could easily remember what they looked like around his cock in his dreams. He didn’t want to give in to her, he spent years in the church, he has every scripture memorised, and he’s helped hundreds of people without expecting so much as a thanks. 

But he wanted to really feel what he’d felt in his dreams for two weeks. He craved it like he’d never craved sex before—or anything else for that matter. Here, in a holy place was a very sexy woman in his bed, a woman who crawled her way out of hell and became fixated on him. For weeks, she tormented him, planted herself in his dreams and gave him glimpses of her in real life as a nun covered from head to toe. 

Now, she sat between his legs, with nothing underneath her sleeping gown. The pure white dress hid the true darkness of her soul. He rubbed his fingers together, though they were dry, his slacks tightened just remembering the feel of her wet folds against his fingertips. He’d never been this hard and desperate before, it usually went away quickly when the guilt of his libidinous thoughts consumed him. 

He’d never done anything bad before, never strayed from his teachings or from the rules. Here she was, tempting him to take a bite of her, tempting him to give himself to her for her pleasure, for his pleasure. Demon or not, no one’s ever gone out of their way to get to him, that was a messed up thought, but it turned him on. 

“Please,” he chokes out. It shocked him. He stared at her in surprise, but she just looked back at him  arrogantly. Slowly, as if waiting for his protest, she tugged his belt and got the leather out of the buckle. He started to breathe heavily, aroused by her gaze and thought of being defiled. 

She starts to pull the belt from the loops of his slacks and he willingly lifts his hips when it catches beneath him.  He gives in easily when she pops the button out of the slit. He even lets his head fall back into the pillow and rolls his hips upwards when she slowly pulls the zipper down. 

She starts to pull his pants down, he can feel the rough scrap of his boxers against his skin when she tries to do it all at once. He doesn’t care anymore, with his thumbs hooked at the sides, he pulls them down with her help. He can feel the cool air kiss his cock, slowly as she exposes him. He moans softly when he’s fully free, he knows there’s precum leaking at the slit, it feels colder. 

He feels like a wanton whore and he’s barely  made a sound. He can hear the delicate fabric of his clothes hit the floor, it makes him feel more excited. 

“Wow, you really are blessed,” she murmurs, her warm breath blowing over his cock. He fists the sheets, feels it twitch instantly, and opens his eyes to stare at her. “It’s just as pretty as the rest of you,” she praises, keeping eye contact with him. He bites his lip and he’s about to respond with a ‘shut up’ when she lets a string of her saliva drip onto his tip. 

The words catch in his throat. She leans forward, her soft hair falls over her face, and her tongue makes contact with the warm head of his cock. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when she hums at the taste of him. His body stiffens and it feels even better than he dreamed. When he lets his head fall back into the pillow, he catches a glimpse of the crucifix over his bed. She turned it upside down. 

“Father,” she whispers, “don’t look away from me.” He looks back at her, her soft hands manoeuvre his body so he has his knees bent upwards again. He feels exposed, vulnerable, sinful, and dirty. 

“Don’t call me that,” he requests softly. He reaches for her jaw to guide her back down onto him. That excites her, he can see her eyes livening. His stomach flutters. 

“Dean,” she sneers when she wraps her hand around the base of his cock and starts to twist her hand upwards. He growls lowly, shyly lifts his arm, and puts it over his eyes. “I prefer calling you Father. It makes this way hotter. Don’t you think?” She asks teasingly and then laughs. 

“No….” He trailed off, spreading his legs a little wider when she leaned forward to kiss his stomach. 

“Call me whatever you want, Father,” she whispers against his skin, trailing her lips downwards as she jerks him off. “Whore, demon, hellspawn… Sister,” she smirks when he whines, then sucks on his hip bone. A red mark blossoms on his skin.  “I’m so wet,” she tells him, teasingly flattering her palm over the tip of his dick, “this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.” He watches the little smirk on her face and while he’s curious about what she does in hell, he can feel his impending release. 

“Please,” he begs quietly. It makes her stop instead. She puts one hand on the inside of his thigh and spreads him open the way a man would do to a woman and she stares down at him curiously. He wiggles to close his legs but she’s stronger than he is, and keeps him as she has him. She pulls gently at his balls, then pushes, and eventually finds a pace where it starts to feel more intense. 

“Jesus Christ,” she murmurs with a chuckle, “you’re so fucking sexy.” He flushes at her words and watches her lean down to suck on his balls. He moans loudly and tangles his hand in her hair, then tugs so she moves upwards. “You’re built like a god, any man would be jealous,” she teases, letting him guide her. 

“Do what you did in my dreams,” he suggests, then slid his hand down her shoulder and inside the top of her nightgown. He fondled her breasts and innocently held eye contact with her.

“What did I do?” She asks playfully, placing one small kiss on his leaking  cock. He glares at her, but she shrugs like she has no idea what he’s talking about. She continues to tease him instead, bites down on his thigh and sucks until he’s whining. 

“Please, suck it,” he begs bashfully, pulling his hand out of the gown. She moves up his body, he’s sure it’s to embarrass him when she stares down at him.

“Suck what?” He groans at her question, lifts both hands to tug frustratedly at his hair. She moves away nonchalantly, slowly begins to lift the white gown upwards, revealing inch by glorious inch of her perfect body. He watches her touch herself with his mouth parted in astonishment, her hands play with her breasts and she teases herself between her legs. 

“Suck my cock, please, I want to feel your mouth,” he rushes out quickly. He sits up and takes her waist, dragging her forward until he has his warm mouth on her nipple. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, Dean,” she promises, playing with his hair. She rubs her thighs together and lets him switch from one nipple to the other. He stares up at her the whole time, his eyes shimmering with lust. “I hope this haunts you forever,” she sneers. Giving his hair a sharp tug to move him away forcefully and go down on him. He grunts softly and wraps his hand around his cock, slowly sliding a dry hand up and down. 

“That’s my job,” she scolds, slapping his hand away. She settles between his legs, and without warning, she wraps her lips around the tip, sending a sharp electric feeling running up his spine. It’s unbelievable how wet she feels around him, how warm her mouth feels engulfing him inch by inch. His stomach becomes taut  with the way she runs her tongue along the bottom vein, sucking when she lifts up slightly, then does it over and over. 

Her slowness drives him crazy. She was merciless in his dreams, passionate and focused on making him reach the ultimate pleasure, but now, she’s just torturing him. One of her hands follows her mouth and the other slides up his chest beneath the buttoned black shirt. Her nails scrape his chest gently but her fingers brush teasingly against his nipple. He arches his back and moans loudly, he doesn’t care that the night amplifies his voice and carries his pretty noises quickly down the halls of the holy church. 

She slides her hand away from his chest and blindly finds his wrist. He grips the sheets tightly, moaning and groaning. The sounds he made travelled to her clit, it pulsed, her walls clenched around nothing, and she dripped between her legs with a flood of warm heat. He let her place his hand on her head, his fingers tangled in her hair. She’s not going to give him what he wants, she wants him to take what he wants. It’s the ultimate goal for her, to make him loosen up and fuck her mouth. 

“Please, I want…” he trails off, both his hands now resting on her head. She drools around his cock and hums when he pushes her down farther. She wants to shove him deeper into her, to take him fast and hard, but it turns her on more to make him needy and desperate. To make him be the one that uses her demonic mouth and hellish body for his pleasure. 

She holds onto the back of his thighs and pushes them so they’re almost at his chest. When her nose is pressed against his pelvis and she swallows around him, he holds her there. 

“Oh, Jesus,” he moans, his balls draw inwards and his stomach coils. She moans softly and starts to pull off him, only to start sucking and bobbing her head up and down just as he wanted her to. He gets louder somehow and rougher, his grip on her hair is almost painful. The sounds of her throat getting fucked makes him shudder and squirm. He needs to cum so bad. “Yes, don’t stop…” he breathes out.

She hums again, he thought it was a promise that she wouldn’t stop, but when he makes that specific grunt he tends to make when he’s about to cum and when he stiffens and gasps, the warmth of her wet mouth is replaced by the drag of cool air from the room. 

He whines and his eyes fly open. He watches her smirk and wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. She still has one hand on his thigh, bending him and keeping him open. He gets shy again, but she doesn’t let him keep his dignity. She gets closer to him and she leans over him to whisper, “you taste so good, Father, I’d imagine it’s all the holy fuckery you consume and spew to others…” 

“It turns me on. You make me so wet and needy. Your mouth is mine.” She kisses him softly, even though her words offend him. He glares at her for her blasphemy, but his eyes close when her soft, sweet lips make contact with his. The tenderness of her kiss fools him, takes his mind off her offensive expressions, and keeps him complacent. 

Her tongue prods at his lips. Her lewdness makes him eager, she’s thorough, licking across his lips slowly. When he opens his mouth to her, her kiss is hungry. She traces the inside of his mouth with her tongue, like a cartographer, she’s precise and she makes him breathless. She barely pulls away, allowing him to catch his breath temporarily before resuming. 

She’s warm when her tongue brushes against his, velvety and sweet. She tastes like wine and fruit, bitter and sweet. The taste of her is divine, opposing her unholy nature and the filthy words she uses to worship him. She pulls away again and straddles his hips. He barely recovers from her kiss when he feels her rub herself over his cock. 

He feels his stomach do flips like a dog excited to show his master tricks for a treat. She moans softly and continues rolling her hips. He bends his knees and grasps her thighs painfully, watches between their bodies how she slides her wetness up and down his cock. She begins to unbutton his shirt and carelessly throw the clerical collar behind her when she fully gets the shirt open.

“Wait,” he stops her breathlessly, “is this your body?” 

She raises a brow and looks down at herself with a nod. “Had to dig it out of a hole in the forest. I was a witch, a badass one. Those stupid hunters,” she grumbles the last bit under her breath, lifts herself up and positions his tip  at her entrance. He raises a brow, too, a smile of amusement grew on his lips as he bit down on it. “Why? Do you like it?” She smirks, but his response is cut off by a moan when she lowers herself on his cock.

She feels even better than he dreamed. He huffs out a breath, he feels sweatier with the shirt and the suit jacket he still wears, but if she doesn’t feel like letting him take it off, he doesn’t mind. She grinds down on him and finds his hands to place one on her breasts and the other between her legs. 

“You feel fucking amazing inside me, Dean,” she praises. His stomach lurches, the use of his name turns him on more, and he bucks his hips up. With a little moan she starts to lift herself up, he can feel every inch of her against his cock, the wetness, the warmth. He doesn’t think he’ll last as long as he did in his dreams. He carefully thumbs between her folds and feels for her clit. Her gasp guides him and he gently flicks it until she’s riding him faster. She leans back against his bent legs, arches her back, and he squeezes her breast roughly. “That’s right, you’re doing so good,” she says softly, spreading her legs to open herself more to his adept fingers. 

Her words spur him on, the bedsprings start to squeak, the headboard starts to hit the wall, the upside down crucifix rattles on the wall. His senses are high. She feels amazing wrapped around his cock, her breathy moans fuel the fire of his orgasm. She tightens and squeezes around him, walls clamping down and keeping him inside her. He starts to get louder, too, he can’t help it. Groans slip from his lips and he whimpers occasionally, he can feel her react each time, and he doesn’t plan on shutting up.

“You’re so good, so goddamned perfect,” she cries softly, it’s the hottest thing he’s heard or seen. She gets sloppy and desperate, staring down at him covetously. He stares back, even if he wants to shut his eyes and hide away from her gaze. He rubs around her clit faster and watches her fall apart, little by little. 

She sounds, looks, and feels even hotter. In his dreams, he understood her intentions and how hot it would be if they had sex, but the reality of it is far more intense and intimate compared to any of his dreams. She filled his mind with fantasies he’d never had before. Having sex in the confessional, on the altar, in the Bishop’s office, and countless locations that were far too holy—in his opinion—being defiled by both of them. He pinches her nipple roughly, she moans and tightens around him. Then, he flicks her clit faster, watches her seize while whining his name. 

“Be a good boy and cum for me, Dean. Want you to fill me up,” she says breathlessly. He throbs inside of her and whimpers involuntarily, feeling himself spill inside her as if his body worked according to her commands. 

“God,” he moans, bucking his hips upwards. He abandons her clit and her breast, and bruisingly digs his fingers into her thighs. He moans softly, letting the orgasm take over his body and mind. He pulls her down with both hands on her hips and keeps her on his cock shortly, her walls flutter and she inhales sharply. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes half-open. 

“Holy fuck,” she gasps, toes curling as she falls apart at the sensation of his cum warming her up. She slowly moves up and down, letting him feel every inch of her pulsing walls along his throbbing cock. Her fingers find her clit to intensify and lengthen her orgasm, finishing what he’d begun. She doesn’t expect his tenderness, but he sits up and tangles his hand into her hair and kisses her deeply.

He mimics how she’d kissed him earlier. His inexperienced tongue traces the roof of her mouth and he brushes his tongue timidly against hers. She deepens the kiss, encourages him to keep doing what he wants to do and tugs his hair. His quiet moans make her horny again and he pulls away. Now that she’s abandoned her clit, she shoves his clothes off his shoulders. 

She kisses his neck and his chest. His mind starts to drift now that he’s basking in the afterglow, her lips ghost downward and she lightly touches his nipple with the tip of her tongue. He stiffens and focuses on her again. She moves off his softened cock which is coated in a mixture of their release. She chuckles and then beholds him in his entirety. 

He glows and he’s flushed, pink and shiny with sweat. His cock rests on his thighs and he has a mark on his hip from her lips. His lips are swollen, almost red from biting them, coated in saliva—hers and his. His hair is a mess, sexy and soft. He looks guilty now, but she moves forward and looks him in the eyes when she licks the cum off his sensitive cock.

 “Don’t worry, Father,” she murmurs before sucking gently on the tip. He gasps and clutches her hair, pulling her off him forcibly. “Even for this… they’ll forgive you, Dean,” she whispers darkly. She gets off the bed and he watches her walk to the small altar he has. She steals a white cloth then walks around his room curiously. She stops in front of a photograph of Jesus and she opens her legs to clean herself. 

His eyes widen as he watches her, “hey, come here.” He takes her attention away successfully and watches her drop her leg to walk towards him. “Why are you interested in me?” Is the first question that comes to mind as he panics. “Will you… be less interested in me if I sin more, like we did tonight?” He has the feeling part of her interest in him is simply the fact that he is the weakest, the most susceptible to sin, lust, and making mistakes. 

“No… because you’re not going to stray from your beliefs,” she reassures him. “You actually believe, because of your father. Stay the way you are, Dean. You’re going to repent and you’ll mean it, but when you’re with me… you’ll sin again and I’ll defile you, over and over,” she smiles down at him and then climbs onto his bed again, she settles behind him, leaning against the headboard and the wall. 

“Until when?” He asks, turning around to look at her. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, then her eyes flicker down to her body. She parts her folds with two fingers. “Taste me,” she tells him. He tears his eyes from her face to look between her legs. His mouth waters and he slowly gets down into his stomach and stares back up at her. He gently prods her clit with his tongue, her other hand moves into his hair while his tongue slides between her two fingers. “Don’t you worry about the when right now… you and I will have our fun.” 

➥ god, if you are above

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[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Another Classic Rock Fan

masterlist

summary : a broken jukebox leads dean to a woman who’s so much like him that she sweeps him off his feet.

pairing : (earlier seasons) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language, sexual themes (?)

word count : 1.7k

warnings: language, implied sex/nudity, violence

gif source

��Son of a bitch!” You muttered, hitting the side of the jukebox, as if that would suddenly fix the (clearly half-a-century-old) machine in front of you.

“I tried that ten minutes ago sweetheart, it doesn’t do much,” A man’s voice said behind you.

“Well, maybe you didn't hit it right!” You exclaimed, hitting it again but in a different spot.

“What song are you trying to play?” He asked.

“AC/DC, You Shook Me All Night Long. And, before you say anything; if you want a shot at getting in my pants tonight don’t you dare disrespect that band,” You replied before you finally turned around to look at the man. “Or any of the classics, while you're at it.” He was taller than you, with brown hair and light brown eyes that stared down at you. The room was dark, but you could see a smirk form on his full lips when he saw your face.

“Hey, I wouldn’t dream of it!” He held up his hands in defense. “I’m an AC/DC fan myself.”

“Favorite song?” You quizzed, narrowing your gaze.

“Trick question, they’re all great,” He shrugged a little.

“Correct,” You nodded. “List some songs though.”

“Thunderstruck, Sin City, Girls Got Rhythm, Let There Be Rock; should I keep going?”

“No, I believe you're a fan,” You laughed, letting your guard down a little.

“So baby,” He smirked, “what’s the going price?”

Your smile disappeared and you stared daggers at him. “Go to hell!” You exclaimed before you brushed past him, intentionally bumping into his shoulder as you did so.

“Wait- That’s- Shit,” He stuttered, regretting what he said.

You turned around, a childish smile now on your face as you looked up at him; “Shot Down In Flames, nice job. You really thought I didn’t get the reference?”

“I really thought,” He laughed lightly. “Let me buy you a drink?”

“Sure,” You turned back around and he followed you to the counter. You could feel him staring down at your ass and you smirked a little; you wore your jeans that accented that feature for a reason.

“I’m Dean, by the way,” He smiled when the two of you sat down. “What’re you drinking?”

“I’m Y/n, and just a beer’s fine.”

“So, is there a reason you’re alone at a bar on a Thursday night?” He asked, motioning the bartender toward you. He then ordered two beers.

“I’m in town for work, don’t really know anyone here,” You shrugged and took a sip of the beer.

“Me too, actually,” Dean responded.

“Really? What kinda work?”

“Law enforcement.”

“Would not take you for a cop,” You nodded in response.

“So, who got you into AC/DC?” He asked, wanting to change the subject.

“My mom traveled for work so my little sister and I were stuck in the car a lot. My mom loved classic rock. It’s all she ever played for us, really.”

“No way! My dad was the same way! Traveled for work, loved the classics, played ‘em for me and my little brother all the time!” He exclaimed, both of you smiling widely.

The two of you talked about nothing in particular for another twenty or so minutes, Dean making the occasional flirty joke about taking you to his motel room.

**

“Oh my god!” Sam exclaimed, covering his eyes in a hurry.

“Sam, what the hell! Knock!” Dean huffed back as you hurried to cover yourself with the sheets. Dean stood up, still wearing boxers, and you sat up in the bed.

“Wait, you’re Sam?” You furrowed your brows. “And you’re Dean. The Impala in the parking lot…shit. You’re not- You’re not the Winchesters, right?”

“How’d you know that?” Dean asked.

You covered your face with your hands and groaned; “Oh my god! You must be working the case here! The four women drained of blood?”

“Yeah, how’d you know that?” Dean repeated, his voice now raised a little.

“Calm down, I’m a hunter,” You sighed. “I’m here working the case too, it’s clearly a vampire!”

“You’re a hunter?” Dean affirmed.

“What, you didn’t see the anti-possession tattoo?”

“No, I definitely did,” He smirked.

You looked up at him, a smirk finding its way onto your lips as well. You stood up, holding the sheet like a towel wrapped around you. “So, why don’t we work the case together?” You said, placing an open hand on his heaving chest.

He took your face in his hands and replied, “Of course,” before he kissed you.

Sam cleared his throat obnoxiously before he exclaimed; “Four dead bodies? Possible vampire nest? Impending doom? Any of this ringing a bell?”

“Sammy-” Dean started.

“Come back in about fifteen minutes, okay?” You told the taller man and then kissed Dean again. Sam got out of the room in a hurry so as not to see what the quickly escalating situation would become.

**

“I’m Agent Jovi, this is my partner Agent Sambora,” Sam and Dean flashed their badges as you did the same.

“And I’m Agent Paula Stanley,” You added to Dean’s introduction. Dean looked at you as if with awe as you simply continued with the conversation. “Could you take us to the bodies, please?”

“Right this way,” The doctor replied. You followed him to the morgue, Dean’s eyes glued to your ass as you walked away.

“Dean?” Sam interrupted his train of thought.

“What?” Dean exclaimed, clearly out of sorts and still very distracted.

“God, you are a mess!” Sam joked, Dean just looked at him with confusion. “C’mon, you’re practically drooling over this girl!” He laughed lightly.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Well, she- She’s just-” Dean scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I got nothing.”

“Dude, it’s okay. Just, ask her out after the case, please? We’ve got lives to save,” He patted Dean’s shoulder before they both walked into the morgue as the doctor walked out.

“Hey, does this girl look familiar?” You scrunched your eyebrows and looked at the newest vampire kill; the fifth vampire kill.

“No, does she look familiar to you?” Sam asked. He took a look at the toe tag, “Silvia Mortenson?”

“Oh my god, she was at the bar last night! I’m sure of it!”

“Did you see her leave with anyone?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, uh this man; he struck out with me,” You inhaled sharply, “so he went to talk to her.”

“That’s when you went for the jukebox,” Dean nodded.

“Yeah- Wait, were you watching me?” You questioned, a slight teasing tone in your voice.

“I may have had my eyes on the ridiculously hot woman in the Kiss tank top,” He smirked.

“So, we know who it is. Now what, we watch him, see who he leaves with, and follow them?” Sam interrupted.

“Or, we do the smart thing,” You shrugged. The brothers looked at you with confusion. “Use me as bait, duh! I lure him out, let him take me to the nest, you two follow me and we take them down from the inside.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean shook his head. “That’s not happening.”

“Why not?” You asked.

“Uh, where do I start?” Dean scoffed. You slightly tilted your head, confused. “It’s way too dangerous! You could die!”

“We’re hunters, Dean; danger and death are kinda in the job description.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Dean trailed off, trying to think of a way to keep you out of immediate danger.

“Yep, we’re doing this,” You nodded.

**

“I’d like to take you up on that drink now,” You smirked, sitting next to the vampire. He had offered to buy you a beer the previous night, but you turned him down.

“What, you're not leaving with Leather Jacket again?” He replied, gesturing to Dean, who sat at the other end of the bar.

“Well, I’m not one to kiss and tell, but let’s just say I want a real man to rock my world tonight.”

**

He led you back to his motel where four other vampires were waiting. Sam and Dean rushed in after you, but you had already beheaded two of them. Sam got one, while Dean got the other. You walked up to the last one, the one you had followed here.

“And just so we’re clear, this man,” You pointed at Dean, keeping the machete in your hand ready, “is amazing in bed!” And you chopped the vamp’s head off. You turned to Sam and Dean, all three of you splattered with blood. “What?” You asked, seeing the shocked and confused looks on their faces.

“Gotta say, that’s the craziest way a woman has ever complimented me,” Dean smirked.

“Just setting the record straight,” You shrugged, smiling.

**

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sam exclaimed when Dean walked into the room.

“I’m here to pack up before we hit the road?” He furrowed his brows before Sam rolled his eyes.

“So where’s Y/n, then?”

“She’s got her own room, second floor, why?”

“Did you get her number?”

“No…?”

“Are you an idiot?”

“Can you just get to the fuckin’ point?”

“Go ask her out before she leaves!” Sam exclaimed, seeing the gears in Dean’s head slowly turning before he left the room.

**

“Can I ask you something?” Dean said, standing outside your motel room.

“Sure,” You shrugged a little. You opened the door further so he could go inside.

“Why’d you say that? To the vampire, I mean.”

“About you being good in bed?” He nodded. “Well, when I was flirting with him at the bar I had to lie and say you weren’t good in bed, so I figured I’d set the record straight before killing him.”

“Oh!” He let out a bit of a laugh. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Can I ask you something?” You asked. “What are you doing here? I thought the famous Dean Winchester was all about lovin’ and leavin’.”

“That’s what I’m famous for?”

“Well, that and you know, all the incredible hunter stuff.”

“I- I’m here to ask for your number.”

“Hunter phone, or personal?” You asked. (It was pretty common for hunters to have at least two phones - one for hunter contacts and one for friends/family.)

“Personal, is what I was hoping for.”

“Okay,” You smiled.

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #spn fanfic #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean

[cas-kingdom]

Dean Winchester x sister reader “Don’t tell Sam!”

(PS: I love your blog so so much 🥰)

The light suddenly switched on and your fork paused mere inches from your open mouth. Dressed in an oversized shirt and slippers, you'd tiptoed down to the kitchen the moment the clock had turned midnight, determined to fill your stomach with food you'd been deprived of for the entire day.

"You're not being deprived of food," Sam had insisted as he blended up the third green concoction of the day, "it's called a juice cleanse, and you promised you'd do it with me. Please don't be so dramatic."

Dramatic was the last thing you would call this. You couldn't quite remember agreeing to such a thing, though you'd been half asleep when he'd asked, and the sly thing had known it.

You turned towards the door, not even caring to hope it wasn't Sam. It wasn't. Dean, wrapped in a dressing gown, stood in the open doorway. When he noticed the pie on the end of the fork and his sister's obvious determination to eat it, he chuckled and leant against the frame.

"Well, well, well," he said with a click of his tongue. "Look who broke."

As he crossed his arms, you rolled your eyes and stuffed the piece of pie in your mouth. Blackcurrant. Your favourite. You shut your eyes, savoured the juicy explosion, and decided there and then that you would never again subject your poor body to one of Sam's healthy excursions.

Still... "Don't tell Sam?" you asked sheepishly.

Dean snorted and grabbed a fork on his way to sit beside you. "Like hell I would. Can't have my pietner in crime disappear on me now, can I?"

SPN Masterpost

#supernatural #Dean Winchester #Sam winchester #Dean x reader #Sam x reader #Dean Winchester x reader #Sam winchester x reader #reader #reader fic #sister reader #sister!reader #teen reader #teen!reader #mine #spn #Dean x Sam #Sam x Dean

[hauntedwitch04]

Proud of you

Dean Winchester x daughter!Reader

Words: about 1.3k words

Warning: I hate John Winchester and I'm not gonna be sorry about it. Just some sad memories of Dean, but mostly fluff

REQUEST: no requested

Author’s note: Hi! I'M NOT DEAD! I know, shocking!

It was a period full of exams, including the driver's license exam and four college exams, and I could not write anything. And just when I thought I could start writing again, classes started again, so… here I am! I'm actually in the university library and should be studying, but my panic attack said NO, so here you go! this is a short scene I imagined after doing my first drive with my dad a month or so ago, and I liked it too much not to write it down, I hope you enjoy it.

Requests are open I Ask

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Ever since you were little you have dreamed of this moment, yet now that you are here and experiencing it, you can't help but want to run away and run for cover in the calm, quiet safety of your bedroom.

You clutch the steering wheel of the car in your hands, which as much as your father loves her is considered your sister, to look straight ahead.

You feel your father's eyes scrutinizing you, sitting beside you, as he considers whether to tell you something or not. You see out of the corner of your eye Castiel's hand resting on your father's shoulder to restrain him from saying anything, knowing, and feeling the anxiety gripping your stomach at this moment.

You take a deep breath and decide to finally start Baby. You hear the engine roar, and your sweaty hands slide on the steering wheel as you lightly touch the pedals with your feet as your father explained to you just before, and a thousand other times before in motel and diner parking lots when you were bored while Uncle Sam found you a place to eat or sleep.

The car begins to move, and you feel a sense of courage and pride in seeing that you are succeeding for the first time in making the car go.

You slowly manage to move a few meters before misplacing your feet while shifting gears and bringing the car to a stop without warning.

Discouraged you abandon your head against the steering wheel, narrowly missing the horn as your father laughs lightly and rests a hand on your shoulder.

Castiel watches Dean get lost in his own thoughts as he watches you explain with a low stare that you are sorry and that you don't understand how it can take you so long to understand and learn how to drive, knowing full well that your father's mind is actually somewhere else right now.

Dean watching his daughter drive for the first time in the same car in which he had learned, could not help but think of when he had been in that position.

Dean had just turned 15, but on his umpteenth fake ID and driver's license it was marked that he was at least two years older, knowing that no one would dispute the fact, since he had been showing 17 for a year and a half now. He felt sweaty hands against his thighs through his jeans as he felt his father's gaze burn him alive.

"Will you move?" John said with obvious hatred in his voice. He had decided it was time for Dean to learn to drive, so that at night he could sleep and leave his son driving the car, as if he were at least twice as old as he was.

In part Dean knew that John wanted to do this so that he could be more independent of his sons and could also take solo trips without worrying about picking up, or having someone pick them up as had happened several times, Dean and Sam after leaving them alone for a week in a motel in a town they did not know. And the oldest of the Winchester brothers couldn't help but be glad to finally get away from the monster who had become their father.

Dean swallowed laboriously and then started the car. He had almost forgotten about Sam's presence in the car until he encouraged him in a feeble voice, only to receive a cruel look from John.

Slowly he made the car move inside the parking lot. It was now late at night and not a soul would disturb his first drive, or so he thought.

He was starting to pick up speed, imitating the people he drove in the many movies he saw while waiting for his father to return from yet another hunt, when suddenly a car comes speeding towards them.

Panicked Dean suddenly accelerated to escape from the high-speed encounter with that madman, only to brake abruptly shortly after seeing that he was inches from the wall.

Dean quickly turned to see how Sam was doing after all the commotion, but he saw that the fear on his brother's face had given way to a smile, not a complete one since he had recently dropped a tooth and had yet to grow a new one.

"Wow Dean, you were great! It was like being in one of those movies-" His brother was interrupted by John's voice, which like thunder crashed down on those poor creatures who had had the misfortune of being his children.

"Don't bullshit Sam, your brother was an idiot. Do you realize you could have ruined the car!" He said shouting and motioning for his son to get out of the car as he did the same.

"But-but that car was coming at us! I couldn't do anything else! It's only my first time driving!" He tried to excuse Dean as he tried to reason with his father, but nothing could change the man's mind, especially when it came to his favorite sport: mistreating the one person over whom he had full power and control, his own son: Dean.

"And if it were up to me it would be the last damn fool too, how can I count on you if all you do is make mistakes? Disappear from my sight before I decide to leave you in this parking lot, better yet, take the car and go back to the motel, I'll stop at the bar nearby."

Dean could not help but squint his eyes, already thinking about his drunken father arriving from the bar on the crack of dawn, and the beating he would receive from the man because of alcohol, although Dean knew it was not entirely the fault of the liquid that seemed to have become John's fuel since his wife had died.

Dean, in the end, had learned to drive thanks to a teacher who was more patient and kinder than his father: Bobby, who with all the calm and love his father had never shown toward him had managed to teach the oldest of the Winchester brothers to drive in one of the many cars he had in his "backyard." And it was then Dean himself, together with Bobby, who had taught Sam how to ride in the car.

This time, however, it was different: it was not his brother he was teaching to ride in a car, but his daughter, that is, blood of his blood, the result of yet another night of passion with a woman he met at a bar, for whom he could never thank enough whatever deity ruled up there. And be damned, more than he already was, he would never let his little girl suffer what he had suffered.

"Hey, it's okay. Nobody's perfect the first time, and this car is definitely not the best you can have for a first drive, but you did great. I had done much worse my first time, and I'm not kidding, I almost hit a wall." Dean says as he watches his daughter straighten her back and look into his eyes, her own eyes, as he smiles at her, gently, and then pulls her into a hug.

"Really?" The girl asks, as she pulls her father in turn into a tight embrace.

"I swear on Miracle." He replied, as the dog in the back seat barks in response, having heard someone calling him, and the girl can't help but giggle.

They remain embraced for a few minutes, until Dean finally finds the courage to say those words that are so simple and at the same time so important, and so necessary, that he had never heard her father say to her, but that would never deprive his daughter from hearing them from him every day as long as she had breath to breathe. Five words, but they had the power of a thousand.

"I am proud of you."

TAGLIST (updated 19 Nov 2023)

@cheyennep3107 @mortica-raven13 @theviewfromtheotherside @supernatural-lvr @imnotcryingurcrying @cursednevermore @itzdarling @deansbbyx @newtdumbledoorstarksoot @afcnds @sya-skies @evansstan-akya

#dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x daughter!reader

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Prologue

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 2,225

A/N: Welcome to the start of The Guest House! This little bitty came to me while I was staying at a lake house and relaxing, so really excited to dive in.

Chapters will be posted weekly on Wednesdays.

If you would like to be tagged in the series, just leave a comment or shoot me a message and I'll get you added.

Enjoy!

You dig your nails into your fingertips as they sit in your lap underneath the table. Your heart was finally leveling off as your review was coming to an end. So far your marks had been glowing; your metrics were up, your peer reviews were stellar, all that was left was to hear if they would be promoting you.

You’ve been working for that next step for a year and a half now. After most of your team quit, you took the opportunity to show your bosses that you could run the department with a can-do attitude and hard work. You’ve brought up a promotion a few times at your check-ins with your boss, and she assured you it would be a topic of conversation at your next review, which would be ending in the next few minutes. 

With a polite smile, you look across the table at your direct manager and her boss.

“Any questions?” Your boss asks plainly, and your brow furrows as you look between them. If you didn’t know any better, it sounded like they were wrapping up the meeting.

Your lips fall apart and your heart jumps into your throat as you realize what’s about to happen.

“Uh,” you start as you squeeze your fists together. “I was hoping to discuss my possible promotion.” You loosen your smile as you try to keep your eye contact divided between both of them.  

The two share a small look. 

You’re not getting promoted. Is what that looks says. 

Your boss’ boss clears his throat as he readjusts in his seat. 

“After reviewing your performance, we do not feel a promotion is appropriate at this time.” He says with a tinge of forced sorrow. 

Your stomach plummets as your jaw clenches. 

How could they not be promoting you? You’ve been working the job of at least three people for over a year now without complaint. You’ve spent countless days staying late and making sure projects didn’t fall wayside while the company took their sweet ass time looking for replacements for your team.To their own admission, your metrics were good, so why the hell wasn’t your hard work being recognized?

“I don’t understand.” You swallow to keep your voice from shaking. You never pushed back on your bosses. Ever. But you thought today was the day you were finally going to be rewarded for everything you’ve done for them. 

“You just said that my metrics were up and I was performing above expectations. What is hindering him from getting a promotion then?” 

The two look at each other again and you can feel yourself beginning to shake as they bide their time for an excuse. 

“Y/N, you have performed well this past year for the most part, but there were concerns with your performance in January.” Your boss folds her tanned hands on the faux wood tabletop as she speaks up. “You let things fall through the cracks and were distant from your work. We feel that is not reflective of someone who should hold a Senior Management position.” She offers a soft smile and a shitty excuse. 

It takes your brain a moment to catch up with what they were talking about; January. Two months ago. Your aunt passed away suddenly from a heart attack as she was making dinner. You can still hear your mother’s cries over the phone as she called to tell you the news that her sister was dead. And at only 52. 

You were only able to take one day off from work for her funeral, as you were in the middle of a project launch and it was all hands on deck. When you returned, yeah, you were “distant.” You were mourning the loss of a woman you loved dearly while trying to help your mother and cousins navigate their grief as well. Your aunt’s passing also made you scared for your own mother, who is a few years older, and some night’s you couldn’t sleep as you thought about life without your best friend. It took you weeks to shake free from the heartbreak and anxiety that had engulfed you, but you came back strong and started excelling once more. 

And there your bosses sat, in the all-glass meeting room of the shared workspace your company rented out because they were too cheap to get a full-blown office, throwing your aunt’s death in your face and using it as the excuse as to why they would not be promoting you after more than eighteen months of slaving away for them with barely a thank you. 

You laugh through your nose and shake your head as you swallow hard.

“We’re happy to talk more about this in a few months at your next check-in.” Your boss jumps in, and you bite down on your lip. “We know you’re committed to this company and role, and we want to make sure we help you get to the next level.” She smiles at you like she actually believes the bullshit she’s spouting. 

You take a deep breath and genuinely smile back. You always prided yourself on keeping a cool head, especially at work. But a line had crossed, and even for you, enough was now enough. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Your boss ticks her head at your words. “Because I quit.” You stand up and smile down at the two asshats you gave everything for, and now realize, you would never get anything in return from them. 

Both of their mouths fall open as they share a shocked look between them.

“Y/N, let’s not do anything rash.” Your boss’ boss stands as well, holding his hands up. “There’s no need to jump to something like this. I’m sure there’s something we can work out” 

You push your chair in, your smile not wavering.

“I feel that this review is not reflective of a company I want to work for anymore.” You throw their words back to them. “I’ll have no issue finding a new role that values my hard work and dedication, and won’t use a family member’s death as a reason to squirrel out of a rightful promotion.”

“Best of luck filling my role.” You turn on your heel and hurry down the hallway to your shared office. A few coworkers glance up at your haste entrance, but you ignore them as you grab your purse and start grabbing the few personal effects that would fit on your tiny, shared desktop; just a single, unframed picture of you, your parents, and your brother, a few fidget toys, and your favorite pens. The rest belonged to the company, just like you had. 

Without a word, you fling your purse onto your shoulder and with your head held high, carry yourself out of the office without a single glance back. As you step onto the elevator, you smirk as you watch through the all-glass walls as your bosses shout at one another before the doors close.

“You what?” Your mother gasps through the phone at your news. You knew your parents weren’t going to take this well, and you were prepared for it.

“I quit.” You repeat, even though you know she heard you the first time.

“Y/N, what on God’s green earth would make you quit without another job lined up?” She huffs. 

You think about your Aunt Rose, how your bosses used your grief as an excuse not to give you a well-earned promotion. She was always free spirited, having career-jumped her whole life. She started as a bartender, then worked as a sous chef for a catering company before she decided she wanted to be a radio DJ. Years before she died, she had gotten her real estate license and was working as an agent right up until she passed. You had always been the opposite, very much a mirror of your mother. You went to a good college and got a business degree. You had worked for a few companies over the years, but you always stayed in the same field, working your way up the ladder. You never wanted to take a risk with your career, you had worked too hard. But working hard got you nothing but late nights and a bullshit yearly review. 

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. And you can barely recall the last time you got together with your friends, let alone a date. You had married your job and it had been a toxic and loveless relationship. 

It was time to start fresh and take some time for yourself. Which is exactly why you had seventeen tabs of house rentals open on your laptop screen as you half-listen to your mother as she continues to admonish your rash decision. 

“It’s going to be good for me, mom.” You cut her off once you’ve finally had enough of her harping. You loved the woman to death, but my god once you wind her up, she doesn’t stop. 

“I have enough savings to comfortably get me through six months without a job. I’m going to take a few weeks off to reset, then I’ll hit the ground running with the job search.” You cross your legs as you languidly swipe through rental photos. 

After a few more minutes, you finally hang up the phone and start seriously considering your options. 

You wanted to get away upstate, not so far away that you couldn’t get back for anything important, but far enough to feel like the city wasn’t in your rearview mirror. You figured a month would be the perfect time. Four weeks of a quiet town to relax and rediscover your love of reading and writing. It’s been ages since you actually sat down and read a good book. You were never good at art, but maybe you’d even find a studio to do some painting or finally give pottery a try. For the first time in your life, your time would be your own to sleep in and do whatever you wanted with your days. 

As you click through listings, you notice one that is significantly cheaper than the rest. Curiously, you click the link and a gray-sided cabin with a red tin-looking roof brightens up in front of you.

NEW LISTING! Private Guest House, Hot tub included.

One bedroom guest house available for rent. Relax in the peacefulness of upstate while being a short driving distance to town. The guest house has a full bathroom, complete with tub. There is also a hot tub on the patio that is for guest enjoyment. 10 minutes from downtown with plenty of bars and shops to keep you busy. The owner lives on the main property, but will keep to themself unless you need anything. Perfect for anyone looking to getaway! 

As you click through the photos, you’re greeted with a warm, wooden interior, a wood burning stove, a fairly updated kitchen, and a queen bed with an adjacent master bath. 

The cabin feels a little too good to be true for the price, and you click “Contact Owner” at the bottom of the page.

“Hello,” You start your chat. “I’m interested in potentially renting your guest cabin for four weeks. The place looks lovely but I wanted to ask if there are any issues I should be aware of since the price is so much more reasonable than other listings on this site.” 

You were hoping there were no gimmicks, you’ve heard horror stories before, and with no reviews, you wanted to do your due diligence. 

After you send the chat, you step away to make a quick dinner, chicken and ramen, comfy and warm, before you settle back onto the couch to watch your favorite reality show. You’re about to press play when you notice a response in your inbox. 

“Hi there. Totally understand your concern. I just put the listing up today and am offering a discounted rate for the first few renters to help get traffic to our rental and start getting reviews. Let me know if you have any questions.” You shrug at the perfectly reasonable response and you click on the circular picture of the brunette next to the message, opening the owner’s profile.

LISA BRAEDEN (Host)

0 Reviews | 1 Month Renting

Lisa’s confirmed information

Identity ✓

Email address ✓

Phone number✓

Proud wife and owner of a unique property. I am a certified yoga instructor and have been teaching and practicing for over 15 years. I love a good glass of wine, a well-cooked meal, and traveling to new places. 

You stare at the picture of the smiling, long-haired, tanned brunette. She’s absolutely beautiful. Probably a few years older than you and seems down to earth in a regular tshirt. 

Honestly, considering you were out of a job, the discounted price would really come in handy. Then you wouldn’t feel so guilty taking a full month off before you started your job hunt. 

You click back to the rental’s profile and put in your dates. You take a deep breath before clicking RESERVE and putting in your payment details.  Your rental has been confirmed. The message pops up. With a thousand-watt smile, you shut your laptop and settle into your couch. In just a few days, you would be on your way to a new beginning.  

Keep Reading

A/N: Fun fact, the first half of this was inspired by true events. Sadly, I didn't quit on the spot, but I did shortly after with a 10x better job.

And know we didn't get to see Dean yet, but I promise he will be in the next chapter!

Anywho, stealing this from the lovely @zepskies

NEXT TIME:

“I’m calling the cops!” She shouts, her phone in hand, music blaring from the speaker as her fingers are ready to press the three numbers as she stares at him with fear in her Y/C/E eyes.

“Take it easy,” Dean holds his hands up, and the woman looks like she’s going to have a heart attack as she notices the gun in his right hand. Realizing his mistake, he quickly tucks it away into his waistband and holds his empty hands out to her, wanting her to know he’s not a threat.

“First off,” Dean holds up a finger at her. “If anyone should be calling the cops, it’s me.” He points back to himself. “Secondly, what are you doing in my house?” 

“Your house?” Her voice drips with confusion as her brow furrows.

“Yes my house.” He echoes, emphasizing his ownership. She continues to frown.  

“Well if it’s your house, you would know I’m renting your guest house for the next four weeks.” She crosses her arms defiantly, confusion and fear gone as she challenges him. 

“What are you talking about?” Now it’s Dean’s turn to be confused. He’s never rented the guest house out, nor would he ever. 

Tag List

Forever 

@iprobablyshipit91  @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly @roseblue373 @k-slla @stephv213

TGH

@suckitands33 @deans-baby-momma @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @spnbaby-67 @jackles010378 @itsdesiree86 @becca-rebel38

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean imagine #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester fic #the guest house

[apocalypseornaw]

Wanna be Yours (Pt 1/5)

Sam Winchester x Reader

After years of hunting with Dean you finally meet his younger brother

@lacilou s genius idea

Every hunter had one thing in common, tragic backstory. The one event that fucked their lives up bad enough that they not only discovered that the things that went bump in the night were very real but they decided to not sit on the sidelines and to actually do something about it.

Your event? You'd gone camping with your family, your parents along with your aunt and uncle and a couple cousins. No one had heard anything about the so called animal attacks neither did anyone know how the hell to defend themselves when the wendigo attacked.

The initial bloodbath had been hell. Your dad and uncle were first gone, going at the beast straight in an attempt to save their families. Next came your mom and aunt, a last ditch effort to distract it while you and your cousins ran. The three of you barely made it half a mile before the beast caught you.

--------------

You'd assumed that was it, you'd die just like your family had. The beast had kept the three of you for days in a cavern. You'd seen it kill your older cousin, Derek was fourteen and had fought like hell so you begged it to spare to your younger cousin, Allie his little sister who was only four not knowing if it even understood you.

The begging seemed to lure it to you. It raised its clawed hand and you prepared for a slash that never came. Instead you heard someone yell "KIDS GET DOWN!"

--------------

You nodded to Allie and you both tucked down in as small of a ball as possible. The heat that filled the cavern was unbearable mixed with the scent of burning flesh along with the sounds of the creature as it died.

When it was over you untucked and was met with a woman, she was probably around your aunts age. Her brown hair braided back, wearing jeans and a red flannel of all things. A flamethrower was in her hands "You girls ok?" You nodded numbly "Help Allie first"

That was how you met Hayley Lynols. She was a second generation hunter. When it was discovered you had no legal guardian (Allie had gone to a relative of her dad's) Hayley had stepped in to offer you a place to stay.

She'd given you three options. One was a normal life, one was the life of a hunter and the third option was what she wanted you to take "I'll train you just like my dad trained me but you go to school and get a ged at least. Any kid of mine isn't going to be dumb in any way. If you want to hunt on your own some after you're eighteen that's you but just know I'll always be here to help"

You'd taken the third option. You'd buckled down on school and studied hard. You'd gotten a ged by the time you turned fifteen and started hunting with Hayley.

That was how you met Dean. You were nineteen, on the very first solo hunt Hayley had allowed you. She deemed it simple enough, a haunting case that seemed like it'd be a simple salt and burn.

---------------

She hadn't realized another hunter was already on the case. You stood across from the guy that had to be around your age, both of you carrying a duffle and a shovel.

Neither of you blinked so you decided to go out on a limb "Anthony Rowen?" He sort of laughed "You a hunter?" You nodded then motioned towards the grave that was about three feet from where the two of you stood "I say we work this together and it goes a lot faster" he nodded "I like that idea" then offered his hand "Dean" you shook his hand "Y/N, let's get to it"

---------------

Since the two of you weren't old enough for a bar you ended up at a diner, coffee and pie in front of you both as you talked about your lives. He told you about his father and brother and you told him about Hayley. Before you went your separate way you exchanged numbers and swore to keep in touch.

You'd see Dean off and on but when you were about twenty six he fell off the map for a while until he resurfaced about a year later with a simple phone call of "Y/N, I need some help"

------------

You pulled your challenger to a stop next to Dean's impala and grabbed your phone to check the text as to what room he was in but before you could the door to room one fifteen opened and Dean walked out, shadowed by another guy. He looked a little younger than Dean with hair that borderlined shaggy but it was clear they were related. Could that be Sam?

You climbed out your car with a smile "Winchester!" Dean grinned and met you halfway pulling you into a hug "Y/N! It's good to see you" when the two of you separated he motioned to the other guy "This is my little brother Sam"

You turned your eyes towards Sam with a smile and offered your hand "I've heard about you for years, weird we're just now meeting but good to meet you" he grinned as he shook your hand "Good to meet you too" you had to admit, he was cute. Broad smile and dimples along with green hazel eyes that followed your every movement. You cut your eyes at Dean "Also, little brother? He's taller than you"

Sam laughed at your words, the sound was enough to pull a smile to your face "Oh I like her already" you winked at him "Stick around cutie, I'm a very likeable person" Dean shook his head "Let's get to work"

After that day you and the Winchesters started keeping in touch every few days. You hadn't known they lost John so you weren't able to be there for them but when you lost Hayley they'd driven straight across two states to get to your side.

--------‐--

You stood between them both, staring at the flames as they engulfed her body. You felt a shiver run through you and weren't sure if it was from the cold night air or losing the only parental figure you had left. "I'll go grab your jacket" Dean offered and headed for your challenger.

You and Sam stood silent for a few moments before he said "When dad died Dean wouldn't talk to anyone, let anyone in until he finally broke one day. Y/N I know we're not as close as you and Dean but you're my friend and if you need anything I'm here" you nodded, eyes never leaving the flames "Thanks Sam"

About that time Dean walked back over with your jacket and draped it over your shoulders "You know Y/N, I was thinking" you cut your eyes at Sam with a weak smile "Should we run?" A small smile slipped onto his face "Let's hear him out then we'll see if we need to"

"Ha ha very funny" Dean replied before continuing "Hayley always said she didn't like you hunting alone, you can always throw your hat in with me and Sam. We don't mind the company" you nodded "Maybe I will" a silence fell back over the three of you as the flames began to burn down to just embers.

@nelachu2423

@lacilou

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #wanna be yours mini series

[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

#Supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #mary winchester #john winchester #gabriel #michael #lucifer #crowley #jack kline

[marie-swriting]

Partie De La Famille - Dean Winchester

Masterlist

Résumé : Tu fais ta première chasse avec ton père John et ton demi-frère Dean en espérant que tu pourras prouver à ton père que tu es une vraie Winchester.

Warnings : half-sister!reader, Y/N a 15 ans, John est un père de merde, angst, sentiment de ne pas appartenir à la famille, tuer des vampires, dites-moi si j'en ai loupés d'autres.

Nombre de mots : 3.2k

Version anglaise

Prompt utilisé : PL n°1, n°10 "We could have prevented this" (On aurait pu éviter cette situation)

-Quelles sont les règles ? te demande John d’une voix dure. 

-Toujours être en alerte et prête à attaquer, tuer et poser les questions plus tard, réponds-tu, déterminée. 

-Très bien, n’oublie pas que tu dois leur couper la tête ou alors ils pourront toujours attaquer. Comme c’est ta première fois sur le terrain, tu restes auprès de moi ou Dean, d’accord ?

-Oui, monsieur.

John te tend la machette avant de fermer le coffre de l’Impala. Ton ventre se tord quand il réalise que tu n’es qu’à quelques secondes du moment le plus dangereux de ta vie. Tes mains commençant à trembler, tu ressers ta prise sur ton arme, espérant te donner un peu plus de courage. Rapidement, tu relèves les yeux et vois Dean te regarder. Il pose une main sur ton épaule pour te rassurer. Tu lui fais un rapide sourire, mais la peur est lisible sur ton visage. Quand vous êtes enfin prêts, vous commencez à vous diriger vers l’entrée du nid de vampires. 

Vous êtes sur leurs traces depuis quelques jours et grâce à tes recherches tu as réussi à les localiser. Tu espères maintenant pouvoir tuer les monstres sans commettre d’erreurs, tu veux prouver à John qu’il a bien fait de te sortir de ta famille d’accueil suite au départ de Sam à l’université. En effet, quand le jeune Winchester a décidé de quitter l’entreprise familiale, John n’a pas aimé se retrouver avec un chasseur en moins alors il est venu te récupérer, en sachant très bien qu’il pourrait récupérer ta garde en un instant, car ta mère est décédée à la naissance. Jusqu’à ce qu’il vienne dans ta famille d’accueil, tu ignorais l’identité de ton père, tu savais encore moins que tu avais deux grand frères. En les rencontrant, une joie immense t’avait envahie, tu pensais que tu allais enfin avoir une vraie famille à laquelle appartenir. John avait déclaré à tes parents d’accueil qu’il venait prendre ta garde, car il venait de découvrir ton existence. Il avait fait tout un beau discours sur l’importance d’avoir sa fille dans sa vie. Quand il avait prononcé ces mots, ton cœur avait explosé d’amour, mais la réalité t’a vite rattrapé quand il a tout de suite mis une distance émotionnelle avec toi avant de commencer ton entraînement de chasseuse. Tu savais que ça n’allait pas être simple, mais tu veux lui prouver qu’il peut compter sur toi pendant les chasses alors tu donnes ton maximum chaque jour. Cependant, John est très exigeant, tu as l’impression que tu ne seras jamais à la hauteur et il t’arrive de faire des erreurs à cause de la pression. Heureusement, Dean sait être patient avec toi, il te protège des réprimandes de John. 

Quand vous êtes dans le vieux bâtiment, vous faites face à un silence pesant. Il ne semble y avoir aucune menace à l’horizon pendant que vous vous enfoncez dans le nid. Vous continuez à marcher discrètement en regardant chaque recoin jusqu’à ce que vous trouviez une sorte de cage avec un prisonnier à l’intérieur. En un coup d'œil, tu reconnais Jake, l’adolescent de ton âge qui t’a aidé à trouver les vampires. Il s’était mis à leur recherche avant que vous arriviez car sa sœur était une de leurs victimes. Ensemble, vous avez mis à profit vos compétences ; pour toi, tes connaissances sur le surnaturel, pour lui, ses connaissances sur la ville et ses habitants. En le voyant, tu abaisses ta machette et cours vers la cage.

-Jake ! Mon Dieu, tout va bien ? Ils ne t’ont rien fait ? questionnes-tu en inspectant rapidement son corps du regard.

-Tu le connais, Y/N ? t’interroge John.

-Il m’a aidé à localiser le nid, informes-tu avant de te retourner vers ton ami. Ça va, Jake ?

-Je vais bien.

-On va te sortir de là, ne t’inquiète pas, déclare Dean en commençant à forcer la serrure.

-Gamin, tu sais où sont les vampires ? le questionne John d’un ton sec.

-Non, j’ai à peine repris conscience, en fait. Merci, dit Jake quand Dean le libère enfin.

Jake sort de sa petite prison en titubant. Tu le rattrapes alors qu’il perd l’équilibre. Tu t’apprêtes à lui demander s’il va bien quand tu vois des dents aiguisées sortir de ses gencives. Sous le choc, tu n’as pas le réflexe de relever ta machette. Dean et John s’apprêtent à réagir quand les autres vampires sortent de leur cachette. Tu repousses Jake, apeurée, mais il revient à la charge. Tu tentes de te débattre en utilisant ton arme, mais Jake te brise le bras, te forçant à la lâcher. En entendant ton cri de douleur, Dean tourne la tête vers toi. Il regarde Jake sur le point de planter ses crocs dans ton cou quand il court jusqu’à vous et coupe la tête de Jake sans réfléchir. Sous le choc de l’action, tu restes figée. 

-Tout va bien ? questionne Dean, préoccupé. 

-Oui, ne t’inquiète pas. 

John grogne de colère, faisant tourner vos têtes vers lui. Dean te laisse, allant aider John. Tu récupères ta machette à terre et tu tentes d’au moins blesser quelques vampires. Ne pouvant plus utiliser ta main dominante, tu as encore moins de force pour couper les têtes. Par miracle, sûrement due à l’adrénaline, tu arrives à tuer un buveur de sang. Malgré toi, tu regardes le corps de la personne et sa tête détachée, ne réalisant pas que tu en sois à l’origine. Reprenant tes esprits, tu relèves les yeux et vois qu’une bonne partie des vampires sont morts. John est en train de s’occuper de l’Alpha vampire alors que Dean semble perdre son combat contre un autre des monstres, ayant du mal à éloigner les dents aiguisées de sa nuque. Tu te précipites vers lui et tu coupes la tête du vampire avec toute la force que tu possèdes. Quand Dean comprend qu’il n’est plus en danger, il te regarde, fier de voir que tu as réussi à le sauver. Tu ne peux empêcher de sourire légèrement en réalisant que, pour une première chasse, tu t’en es plutôt bien sortie. De ta main valide, tu l’aides à se relever au moment où John tue enfin l’Alpha vampire. Tu regardes John, espérant le voir content ou au moins rassuré de vous savoir en vie et à peine blessés, malgré ton bras cassé, mais c’est un John en colère qui s’approche de toi.

-C’était quoi ce bordel ? On s’est retrouvés dans une embuscade à cause de tes conneries ! Comment t’a fait pour pas comprendre que Jake était un vampire alors qu’il t’aidait ? Ne me dis pas que tu n’as même pas pensé à vérifier qu’il n’en était pas un avant de tout lui dire !

-Il… Je…, bégayes-tu, agaçant John encore plus.

-Réponds !

-Il m’a dit qu’il était aussi à la recherche des vampires, mais qu’ils ne savaient pas comment les attaquer, expliques-tu, te sentant honteuse. 

-Et tu t’es pas dit que c’était bizarre qu’il en sache autant ?

-Il disait que ça faisait deux mois qu’il faisait des recherches, ça me semblait normal, te défends-tu et John soupire comme pour contenir sa colère.

-Putain, Y/N, c’est pas possible ! On aurait pu éviter cette situation, si tu avais réfléchi un peu !

-Papa, elle est encore en train d’apprendre. C’est pas si grave, intervient Dean d’une voix calme.

-Pas quand elle nous met en danger ! On aurait pu mourir et elle a le bras cassé. Elle aurait dû faire mieux !

En écoutant le nouveau reproche de John, tu baisses la tête. Finalement la chasse a été pire que ce que tu pensais. Tu as mis tes proches en danger et tu as déçu John. Tu vas encore avoir plus de mal à trouver ta place dans votre petite famille et tu te détestes pour ça. John a raison, tu aurais dû faire mieux.

-On est tous en vie et ils sont morts. C’est une victoire, insiste ton grand frère.

-Je m’en fiche qu’on s’en soit sortis ! Elle aurait dû réfléchir comme une chasseuse, rétorque John avant de te prendre l’épaule avec force, t’obligeant à relever la tête vers lui avec une grimace. T’as pas intérêt à refaire ça, la prochaine fois, utilise ta tête.

-Oui, monsieur.

John soupire avant de lâcher ton épaule. Dean te lance un regard pour s’assurer que tu vas bien, tu lui fais un rapide signe de la tête pour le rassurer, mais tes yeux brillants de larmes ne le convainc pas. 

-Allez, viens, commence John, on doit aller à l’hôpital pour ton bras, on peut pas le réparer nous-même. Une autre perte de temps avec tes conneries.

-Je suis désolée, souffles-tu, les larmes prêtes à couler d’une seconde à l’autre.

-“Désolée” ne change rien. Et enlève moi ces larmes de tes yeux, à moitié Winchester ou pas, les Winchester ne pleurent pas.

-Oui, monsieur.

Les épaules baissées, tu suis John alors que Dean te regarde avec compassion. Il sait ce que c’est de se battre pour avoir l’approbation de John, c’est très rare de l’avoir, même pour lui, c’est compliqué alors qu’il fait tout ce que John dit. 

Dans l’Impala, John n’a pas dit un autre mot, trop en colère il ne te regarde même pas et Dean voudrait te rassurer, mais il ne veut pas énerver encore plus John.Tu tiens ton bras pour minimiser la douleur pendant le trajet tout en repensant aux mots de John. Parmi tout ce qu’il a pu te reprocher, sa dernière phrase t’a plus particulièrement touchée. Depuis qu’il est venu te chercher, tu sais que John te traite différemment de Dean, il ne te voit pas comme faisant partie de la famille. Pourtant, ça ne t’empêche de sentir ton cœur explosé de douleur à chaque fois que John te le rappelle quand il précise bien que tu es seulement la demi-sœur de Dean ou encore quand il refuse que tu l’appelles “papa”, ça, c’est qui te fait le plus mal. 

Quand vous arrivez à l’hôpital, il n’y a pas beaucoup de monde, étonnamment, alors tu dois juste attendre une heure et demie avant d’être prise en charge. Quand ton plâtre est mis, vous retournez au motel, toujours en silence. Tu mords ta lèvre, stressée, alors que tu cherches quelque chose que tu pourrais dire pour rattraper tes erreurs, mais tu connais à peine John, tu ignores ce que tu dois dire. Quand vous passez la porte de votre chambre de motel, John t’indique la table de la petite cuisine. Réticente, tu t’éxecutes sans un mot et t’assois. Dean commence à te suivre, mais John lui ordonne d’aller se laver. Sachant que ce n’est pas le moment de défier ses ordres, Dean lui obéit. John reste debout, face à toi, te dominant de sa taille. Instinctivement, tu baisses les yeux sur tes doigts, tu joues avec eux jusqu’à ce que John prenne la parole.

-J’espère que tu réalises à quel point ce que tu as fait était dangereux.

-Oui, je ne le referai plus, promis.

-T’as intérêt ! T’aurais pu mourir et ton demi-frère aussi. Au moins t’as réussi à tuer quelques vampires, mais sinon tu as ruiné toute cette chasse ! Si tu veux pas retourner dans ta famille d’accueil, tu as intérêt à être plus utile les prochaines fois. J’ai pas besoin d’un poids mort, mais d’un chasseur, tonne-t-il.

-Je ferai mieux la prochaine fois, lui assures-tu, déterminée.

-On verra dans plusieurs mois vu que ta connerie t’a causé un bras cassé. Tu vas retourner aux recherches et dès que tu pourras reprendre l'entraînement, on s’y remettra, mais cette fois, je serai plus sévère. Tu dois apprendre comme il faut, je ne peux pas me permettre d’avoir une gamine qui ne sait pas ce qu’elle fait, crache John en appuyant sur le mot “gamine”, te blessant à nouveau. Me fais pas regretter ma décision d’être venu te chercher. Et enlève moi cet air triste de ta figure, j’ai pas le temps pour les faibles, non plus, t’ordonne-t-il et tu te tentes de te reprendre. Je vais au bar, finit-il en s’éloignant de toi.

Sans te lancer un regard, John quitte la chambre. Quand tu entends la porte claquer, tu sursautes. Les larmes remontent en un instant. Tu essayes de les retenir, mais plus tu clignes des yeux, plus larmes semblent être prêtes à tomber. Malgré toi, une larme coule sur ta joue. Tu l’essuies rapidement et espères que Dean ne t’ait pas vu, car il vient tout juste de sortir de la salle de bain. Tu prends de profondes inspirations, tentant de calmer tes émotions. Dean pose délicatement une main sur ton épaule et s'agenouille devant toi. 

-Hey, gamine, ça va ? 

Contrairement à John, le mot “gamine” dans la bouche de Dean semble plus affectueux. Tu vois à ses yeux qu’il est sincère, mais tu refuses de te montrer faible une seconde de plus. Tu t’éclarcis la gorge avant de le regarder dans les yeux.

-Oui, juste fatiguée de la journée. John est parti dans un bar.

-Juste toi et moi, alors ? Ça te dit d’aller au Burger d’en face ? propose-t-il avec un petit sourire.

-J’ai pas trop faim et je voudrais pas que John s’énerve encore plus, car on serait pas là à son retour.

-Il en a pour longtemps dans ce bar, t’inquiète et puis il faut bien reprendre des forces, tu as fait ta première chasse ! déclare-t-il en espérant te remonter le moral.

-Tu parles d’une victoire ! souffles-tu avant de lever les yeux au ciel. 

-Tu t’en es sortie qu’avec un bras cassé alors que c’était un nid de vampires, j’appelle ça une victoire. Allez, viens.

Dean t’aide à te lever de ta chaise. Il remet sa veste et prend son porte-monnaie avant de t’inviter à sortir. 

Au Burger, tu ne manges presque pas. Tu avales quelques frites, mais ne touches pas à ton hamburger alors que Dean dévore tout en une seconde. Dean ne fait pas la conversation, devinant que tu as besoin de silence, après tout ce que John a pu te dire. Dean sait que John n’a pas été tendre dans son deuxième sermon avec le peu qu’il a pu distinguer à travers les murs de la salle de bain. De plus, Dean te connait depuis seulement quelques mois alors il ignore si dans ce genre de situations, tu préfères parler ou rester seule. Dans le doute, il préfère être proche de toi sans être oppressant comme il le fait actuellement. Quand il a totalement fini son repas, il demande à faire emporter ton plat et va payer. 

Sur le chemin du retour, vous ne voyez pas l’Impala, ce qui te rassure, car tu sais que tu as encore le droit à du répit avant le retour de John. En entrant dans la chambre, tu prends rapidement tes affaires et t’enfermes dans la salle de bain. Une fois prête pour aller dormir, tu vas te coucher dans ton lit, te mettant dos à Dean qui est allongé sur le sien, en train de regarder la télé. Tu essayes de t’endormir, mais les mots de John continuent de tourner dans ta tête. Plus tu repenses à cette chasse, plus tu réalises à quel point tu as été crédule avec Jake. Mentalement, tu t’insultes de tous les noms, te disant qu’avec tes erreurs, tu as encore plus baissé dans le peu d’estime qu’il avait pour toi. En ressentant tes larmes monter, tu te forces à respirer doucement. Tu ne peux pas pleurer, surtout alors que Dean est à côté de toi. Il ne peut pas te voir être faible ou alors tu baisserais dans son estime à lui aussi et c’est la dernière chose que tu veux. Malgré tes tentatives pour être discrète, tu renifles, attirant l’attention de Dean. Au début, il se dit que ce n’est sûrement rien, mais quand il entend ta forte respiration et renifler plusieurs fois, il se lève de son lit et vient vers le tien. Il s’assoit à côté de toi et pose une main réconfortante sur ton épaule. En sentant sa présence, tu n’oses pas bouger, attendant une réprimande de sa part.

-Tu veux qu’on en parle ? questionne-t-il doucement.

-Il n’y a rien à dire, déclares-tu.

-Y/N, je sais à quel point ses mots peuvent affecter quelqu’un.

-Il a raison, j’ai été idiote, j’aurais dû être une meilleure chasseuse. 

-Tu as quinze ans et tu es toujours en train d'apprendre, rétorque Dean. Tu as été naïve, c’est vrai, mais il y encore quelques mois en arrière pour toi les vampires c’était une légende de Transylvanie et pas la réalité. Tu peux pas être parfaite dès le début. Tu allais forcément faire des erreurs lors de ta première chasse, tu ne peux pas t’en vouloir pour ça. Crois-moi, j’ai fait des erreurs bien pires pendant mes premières chasses, tente-t-il de te rassurer, mais tu restes silencieuse. Y/N, tu veux bien me regarder ?

-Non, je ne veux pas que tu penses que je suis faible, refuses-tu, honteuse.

-Pourquoi je penserais ça ?

-Les Winchester ne pleurent pas. Même si je n’en suis pas une vraie, dis-tu en répétant les mots de John.

Dean pousse un soupir, cherchant quoi dire. Il déteste la façon dont les mots de John sont déjà ancrés dans ta tête. Il aimerait pouvoir te rassurer comme un grand frère le devrait, mais tu restes dos à lui, n’osant pas lui faire face. Il sait qu’il ne devrait pas le prendre personnellement, mais savoir que tu penses qu’il pourrait agir comme John lui serre le cœur. 

-Je sais que je ne suis pas la meilleure personne pour dire ça, commence-t-il en hésitant, mais tu as le droit de pleurer. Avant d’être des chasseurs, on est humains.

-Je veux juste pas te décevoir comme j’ai déçu John, murmure-tu en reniflant.

-Tu ne vas pas me décevoir et pour ce qui est de John, il s’en remettra, tu peux me faire confiance. Quand tu te seras bien entraînée, il verra à quel point tu es une excellente chasseuse, une vraie Winchester, affirme Dean. 

-S’il ne m’a pas renvoyé dans ma famille d’accueil d’ici là, ajoutes-tu.

-Je ne le laisserai pas faire, déclare ton grand frère, déterminé. Maintenant que je sais que j’ai une petite soeur, je peux t’assurer que tu es bloquée avec moi jusqu’à ce que t’en décides autrement.

-Demi-sœur, corriges-tu, la voix de John résonnant dans ta tête.

-C’est-à-dire ma sœur. Tu fais partie de la famille, insiste Dean et tu sens une nouvelle larme couler sur ta joue.

-Pourquoi t’es si gentil avec moi ? Tu connaissais pas mon existence il y a encore six mois, tu as tous les droits de m’ignorer, questionnes-tu d’une voix tremblante.

-Je viens de te le dire, on est de la même famille, je tiens à toi. 

Sans répondre, tu te tournes vers lui avant de te jeter dans ses bras. Toutes les larmes que tu retenais depuis ces derniers mois coulent enfin sur tes joues. En sentant tes épaules bouger, Dean te serre un peu plus contre lui. Il te caresse le dos, t’invitant à faire sortir toutes émotions. Son cœur se brise un peu plus en réalisant à quel point tu te retenais de ne pas craquer pour satisfaire un minimum John. Il connait que trop bien la douleur alors ce soir-là, il veut s’assurer que tu saches qu’il sera toujours là pour te soutenir. Ta tête cachée dans le creux de sa nuque, tu restes dans ses bras, acceptant pour la première fois le réconfort de ton grand frère.

Masterlist

{Ceci est mon blog secondaire donc je répondrai aux commentaires sous le pseudo @marie-sworld}

#marie swriting in french #tumblr français #winchester!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester sister reader #dean winchester x half sister reader #dean wichester x half-sister reader #dean winchester x half-sister!reader #dean winchester x half sister!reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural #supernatural angst #dean winchester angst

[winchester-girl67]

Raven Eyes

Summary: Half-Demon and half-angel, the reader struggles to control her outbursts of anger. Until she meets someone who makes her blood boil in a whole other way. She searches for her half-sister, Claire, with the help of the Winchester brothers and finds that, maybe, being human isn't all bad.

Requested by @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld : “Hey can i request a Dean or Sam Winchester x reader where the reader is a Nephalem (half angel half demon) and super powerful because Nephalem are the most powerful hybrid and Dean or Sam fall in loved with her because she is so sweet, shy, etc and in the end they end together? With smut is you want to added"

Pairing: Dean x Nephalem!reader 

Word Count: 11,913

Rating: mature 18+ MDNI

Warnings: not canon, language, mature themes, reverse age gap (kind of), violence/blood (gun, biting, restraints - Claire is tied to a chair), smut (p in v, unprotected sex), brief mention of body insecurity, injury, nightmares, maybe some anger control issues, angst, a little pining, kissing/cuddling, reader has one defining characteristic (raven eyes), star wars trilogy spoilers? (brief mention), mention of Sam and Dean slash fiction

A/N: This really got away from me, especially the word count, lol. The reader has both sweet/shy moments and bold/sassy ones; but I thought it was a good mix of energy for an angel/demon hybrid. Enjoy!

_____

Ugh...

You kicked the empty can under your foot down the dark alleyway. It landed in a puddle with a splash and you growled and kicked the glass bottle next. It shattered against the brick wall at the dead end, scattering into a myriad of pieces that rippled the top of the same puddle. 

Finally, that felt great. 

You just needed to break something. So, you did it again, lining up the next beer bottle. This one, full and unopened. You'd brought it outside with you from the bar you were currently venting behind. 

Alcohol did little to nothing for you, you were pretty sure the only buzz you ever got off it could be chalked up to a placebo effect. 

The bottle hit the wall, popped, and fizzed as it streamed down the bricks. The amber liquid staining a trail to the pavement below. It was somewhat satisfying, but... you wanted to break more shit. 

So much more. 

It was the demon’s blood in you, the urge to create chaos and torment just for fun. Although, ninety percent of the time it lost out to the half of you that was part angel. 

You didn't want to be evil and you didn't want to be good. You were all shades of grey and that was fine because you knew exactly who you were. Sort of. 

You were a Nephalem; half-demon, half-angel. 

Yeah, your parents were a piece of work. Try growing up in that household. Literal definition of having an angel on one shoulder and a devil -or in this case, a demon- on the other. 

But opposites attract, right. 

You never really fit in. As a child or now as an adult. Not with your father's angelic colleagues or your mother's demonic friends. You were one of a kind. 

'Unique. Unlike any other.' Your father would tell you.

'Powerful. A force to be reckoned with.' Your mother would say.

You loved them, your parents. Even if they drove you nutty and pulled at your limbs like some savage game of tug-o-war. Castiel and Meg had good intentions but you needed to stand on your own two feet for the first time.

So, here you were hanging out in the back alley of some highway dive off to the side of some two-star motel. Popping the cork on your own internal bottle of frustrations. The blood in your veins could only be shaken so much before you lost control and that was the point of breaking shit.

To calm your nerves and it usually worked, but not tonight. Tonight was different.

Your -sort of- half-sister, Claire, called you up for some help on a case she was working on. Fucking werewolves. She needed back up but when you arrived you couldn't find her. Anywhere!

When you asked the greasy bartender if he'd seen her and showed him her picture on your phone, all he said was 'I wish I had, damn'. Then he proceeded to shake out his hand as if he'd touched something hot and made a crude face with a little wink added in your direction... you almost ripped his face off right there, but there were too many witnesses.

A waitress flirting with some guy with more hair than a barbie doll and some guys playing pool; one of them obviously hustling the others. He was kinda cute actually -had a nice smile, short dirty-blonde hair and a scruff on his jaw that was way too trimmed to be natural- but you weren't here for that.

You had to find Claire.

You fisted your hands until your fingernails dug into your palms and bleed. Then hissed and watched the skin stitch itself back together under the orange flood lights of the alleyway.

That helped a little. The pain. You did it again, satisfying the demon within and hissing out a breath at the sharp sting each nail made as they buried into your flesh. Then. You breathed in and out like your father taught you. Slow and steady.

Inhale: one, two, three... Exhale: one, two, three...

Then repeat as many times as it takes to appease the angelic grace entwined within your soul.

When your blood was at war it felt like the epic internal battle of a Jedi struggling with the force -you had forced your father, Cas, to watch the recent Star Wars trilogy with you a couple of days before you left to meet Claire and really connected to the Kylo Ren/Ben Solo character and his dilemma of whether to embrace the pull to the light or give into the dark side- but a nephalem didn't have that choice. The only solution was to embrace it all, whatever murky shade of grey that turned out to be. But there were times you still struggled with it, times you wished you had more control over your heart and mind.

Times like now with that fucking bartender. Who even has frosted tips anymore, seriously?! What a douche.

He knew something and he wasn't telling you, you could hear his heart beat just a fraction quicker when he lied.

You let out a frustrated howl and kicked at the puddle, splashing and jumping until your boots and pant legs were soaked. You growled and fisted your hair in your hands and pulled. Frustrated to no end.

"Now that's a losing battle, if I ever did see one." Said a husky voice and you spun around to nothing but shadows behind you at the mouth of the alley.

What? "Who said that?"

"Don't get me wrong, that was entertaining as hell but that puddle's always going to be a puddle." A man stepped out of the shadows with a twisted smirk. "Unless you have the right tools... Maybe a mop and bucket." Oh, he thinks he's funny. You didn't laugh, you glared and he stepped directly under the flood light near the rear door. He pumped his eyebrows once and rubbed the trimmed scruff on his chin. "Geez, tough crowd. Why you so pissy, squirt?"

"Fuck off." Your guard was up.

"Big language for such a little girl. You're trouble, aren't you?" He said with a deep laugh. He fucking laughed. And took a step closer when you didn't respond. "You kiss your momma with that mouth?"

"My mother would rip you to shreds just for sneaking up on me."

Seriously, how'd he do that? You were usually hyper aware of your surroundings... but you were also in your head, duelling it out.

He looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on your wet jeans sticking to your calves. His tongue teased his bottom lip and he met your stare again. You scowled knowing exactly what he was thinking and crossed your arms in front of your chest to obstruct his view.

"You got some fire in you, squirt."

Screw you, pretty boy.

"Call me, squirt, one more time. I. Dare. You." You said through clenched teeth and stepped out of the puddle, bringing you chest to chest with this man.

Okay, maybe chest to chin -you still had to look up at him- but you weren't as small as he made you sound, at least you didn't think so. But one thing was for sure, you were a lot older than you looked, probably older than him... but you were kind of immortal too, so there was that.

You looked near the same age though, for what it's worth, and you felt young. Out from under your parents' -hypothetical for the most part- wing for the first time. No more babysitter.

He looked amused, "Okay, little trouble. Wanna tell me what's got your feathers in a fluff?"

"The hell do you care?"

His expression turned emotionless like a poker face, "Maybe I don't." Then he smiled, "Or maybe, I do."

You knew where you'd seen him before now, playing pool inside, "How'd you do with your little side hustle?"

"Oh, I cleaned up," he smirked, he saw you watching him inside. "I'm Dean, by the way... Winchester. And you are?" He asked, keeping his arms crossed against his chest and mirroring you.

"Leaving," you said quietly and unintentionally shoving your shoulder into his as you walked for the exit of the alley.

Fucking Dean Winchester. You knew exactly who he was, you just didn't know what he looked like, until now. Your father warned you to stay away. Said he was the type to shoot first and ask questions later and if he found out you were a nephalem, that's exactly what he'd do.

"Hold up a second, squirt." He called as he jogged after you and grabbed your arm.

Dean yanked you back and you spun around, twisting out of his hold. You smacked him in the chest and he shoved back into the brick wall. Hard. You always forget how fragile humans were, you didn't spend much time with them after all.

He huffed like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. His eyes wide and watching you. Yeah, you were strong as hell and that was only ten percent. You felt a little bad for the poor guy but he did ask for it. You clearly wanted to be left alone.

"I told you not to call me that!" You growled, pointing your finger in his face. "I don't have time for this."

"Why? Got some mailboxes to knock over?" He teased and rubbed his chest when you backed off. "Oh, please tell me you're gonna spray paint obscene doodles on the billboard across the street... I'll help. Need a lookout?"

If he was flirting, it wasn't landing and if he was teasing, it was pissing you off. You weren't some teenager tagging billboards, even if that jackass CEO, Dick Roman, deserved it. You didn't know why, you just didn't like him or his cheesy smile, but he'd get his, they usually do. 

"What do you want?" You huffed at him, glancing down at his hands just in case. 

You heard the stories of the Winchester brothers. They weren't opposed to sucker punches, especially with an angel blade. Even if an angel blade could hardly hurt you, your mother trained you to always be prepared, vigilant.

"You were asking around about a blonde girl, Claire Novak, I'm a friend of hers. Actually, more like a big brother and I haven't been able to reach her." He confessed and took a step forward, then another and another until you were the one backed up against the opposite wall of the alleyway. "What do you want with her?"

For a human, you had to admit, he was fucking intimidating. His eyes hooded, nostrils flared and you felt his hand fist the collar of your t-shirt. You could easily push him off if you wanted but the brush of his knuckles over your collarbone made your knees knock together and you practically swallowed your tongue.

The feuding blood in your veins quieted as your heart beat a little faster and sweat broke out across your skin. Your lips fell open and you just stared up at him. At a loss for words.

Was this what it was like to feel... human? Desire? Vulnerability?

But you weren't vulnerable, not physically, your power outmatched that of a nephilim. Nephilim had the inconvenience of having to be half-human where that half of you was all demon. Pure darkness and indignation.

Being a nephalem wasn't easy. Especially being the only one ever known to exist. You had to carve your own path.

You had a conscience about the bad things you did and a will to do good, but nothing was ever that simple. You'd do a good deed to appease the angel grace pumping in your veins but it would always turn out sideways. And when you did something bad -perhaps out of selfishness and greed- you'd feel bad.

Demons had it easy. Do what you want, when you want. Angels had it even better though, their good always turned out good. Despite the fact that not all angels were all that good and not all demons were all bad.

If they couldn't figure it out with one blood line, how would you?

You felt like you were constantly at battle with yourself. But, at least, you weren't human.

Compared to the man in front of you, he was like a fly. A gnat. And you'd toy with him for a bit if he could keep making you feel this way.

Calm.

The crimson waters in your veins were quiet -for the first time in sooo long- and all you had to do was look into his eyes. They were hooded in the darkness of the night but you felt it, his soul staring back at you. You often wondered if you had a soul.

Probably, everything else seemed to have one.

Perhaps, not everything about being human was terrible. It beat the hell out of the internal anguish, always fighting with yourself, always angry. And suddenly you never wanted Dean to leave. Even if your father did warn you about him.

Maybe humans were powerful after all. Maybe, it was just this one human.

You grabbed his wrist above his watch -his fist still clutching your collar- and exhaled over his lips, only an inch away from yours. His breathing turned sharp too and you smelt whiskey on his breath. Peach whiskey. You gave him a cheeky smile.

That was a chick's drink.

"Why are you looking for Claire?" He repeated, his eyes somehow darker in the shadow of the night.

"She's my friend," you lied, continuing to pretend he had you right where he wanted you.

It was really the other way around.

"You're friends?"

You nodded, "Yeah, some people have those."

You kind of wished Castiel had told Dean about you. It wouldn't come as such a surprise then. Maybe you could hide it, though, and tag along to find your sister. It could be fun to watch the brothers in action. Plus, everything was so quiet around him. Even in his intensity and you didn't want it to stop.

"Claire doesn't have friends." He stated.

"She has at least one."

He didn't need to know that you were kind of related to Claire, just that you didn't mean her any harm. Most of the time. Sometimes she pissed you off and sometimes you pissed her off.

"Wait, friend as in 'friend'?" He said as if he used air quotes but he didn't let go of your shirt collar to actually make them.

What the hell else did 'friend' mean? -Ohhhh... good for Claire. But gross, she was your sister. You had flashbacks to reading fanfics of Sam-slash-Dean online. Your father told you to stay away, but you were curious and although it may not have proven for the most serious intel on the boys, the stories were captivating. 

You scrunched up your face and stared at him. You couldn't tell him you were sisters. So, you just shook your head.

Dean laughed, "Huh, didn't know that kid could stop pissing people off for a second long enough to make a friend."

You nodded but frowned when he released your shirt collar and took away his hand. If you had wanted him to back off, you would've made him. You kept a hold of his wrist.

"Let go, little devil."

If only he knew how ironic that nickname was. You were the daughter of a demon not Lucifer but, same diff; it was close enough.

You let him go. You didn't want to, but you did.

"Do you know where she is?" You asked, both wanting to keep the conversation going and needing the answer.

"Nope. Was hoping you did."

"The bartender knows something." You mumbled.

You breathed a heavy breath, letting the anger from before defuse a little as it tried to resurface. No losing control this time. Your parents weren't here to help you this time. No cleaning up any messes. You were on your own. Like you wanted.

"Let's go talk to him, then." Dean grinned and patted your shoulder.

His hand slid down to the small of your back as he led you back around to the entrance of the bar. Every ounce of anger flushed away with his touch and you no longer felt that inch of demon blood in your veins.

_____

Dean wiped the blood from his knuckles with a rag from the trunk of a shiny black muscle car parked in the lot. You stood next to him and watched stoically as he did so. He glanced up at you and mistook your awe for fear.

"I'm sorry. I should've warned you when someone messes with my family, I get-" He started in a soft voice but cut himself off before he could finish. "Just sometimes, things get... messy."

Messy?! He beat the ever-loving hell out of that bartender when the guy hit on you again and evaded all your questions... Until he didn't.

Dean was just as fucked up as you were. He was angry and at war with himself, constantly, you could see it. You saw that look in the mirror all the time. He took the bloodiest route to being good. He was all shades of grey, just like you. And you had to admire how much he cared about the people he thought of as family.

"Don't ever let a man disrespect you like that." He locked eyes with you.

Something different in his gaze this time. Warmer and intense. Too intense, you had to look away.

You never did let guys get away with it, but you couldn't exactly go all super-girl on the bartender's ass either with Dean watching, now could you? Super-girl was a hero, though... You weren't the villain but you weren't the heroine either. Maybe an anti-hero, actually? Like Ben Solo? You could live with that.

"So, what now?" You asked, sitting on the edge of the open trunk next to him. "We go to this Haden-guy's cabin in the woods? Sounds like a trap."

The bartender said Claire had her eye on some regular guy all night but never talked to him. Though, she did leave right after he did. That was the only lead we had since this shit-hole had no working security cameras.

"Exactly, that's why we're gonna get Sammy first." He said, tossing the bloody rag into the trunk and securing the hidden hatch shut after pulling out a case of silver bullets.

Sammy, his little brother, you knew as much about the boys as every other demon or angel. You just didn't know how being around Dean would affect you.

"Where's Sam?"

Dean gave you a half smirk and a little shrug of his shoulders, then he winked at you. And what the hell did that mean?

Oh wait, you suddenly remembered seeing a walking L'oreal-ad-of-a-man, matching Sam's description, flirting with the waitress before stomping out to the back alley to have your little temper tantrum like a child. You blew off steam though without hurting anyone so you weren't embarrassed. That was a win in your book.

"I'll go get him, you wait here." Dean said, cocking his freshly loaded gun with silver bullets and tucking it into the back of his jeans. "Don't disappear on me, little devil."

You smiled, actually starting to like that nickname as you watched him walk towards the motel across the parking lot. He knocked on room number sixteen and waited a long moment before he pounded harder on it.

You stretched out your legs and pushed up from the edge of the trunk but something kept your ass in place. Like you were frozen, sort of, you could only move further into the trunk.

Something was wrong.

You glanced back quickly before Dean could notice you struggling to stand up like an ordinary human. You twisted in your seat but there was nothing unusual in the trunk, then you looked up at the lid.

Fucking hell.

There was a demon trap on the upside of the trunk lid. You glanced back at Dean who was now striding back towards you on bowed legs.

Shit. You twisted your arm above you and scratched at the edge of the trap. Glad that the front of the car was facing Dean instead of the back. 

"He'll be out in a minute," Dean said, rounding the back of the Impala just as you snapped up from your seat and slammed the lid shut. He narrowed his eyes on you, "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, peachy." You dusted off the back of your black skinny jeans ungracefully.

"O-kay," he stared at you for a moment as you shifted from heel to heel, "Get in the car."

You walked around to his side of the car, knowing Sam probably had dibs on the passenger seat and opened the rear door. You hesitated and looked inside, checking for more demon traps.

"Something wrong?" Dean asked and you noted Sam exiting the motel room, he walked towards you as he buttoned up his blue flannel and straightened his jeans. "Don't tell me you're scared?"

"Hardly," you said unconvincingly and crawled into the backseat when you didn't see any reason not to.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, Baby here is stocked up like a tank, we can take whatever's waiting for us. Trust me."

He was cocky, wasn't he, but it made you laugh. He had even more artillery than he thought, with you around.

Dean shut the door behind you and dumped himself into the driver's seat, Sam joining only moments later.

"Uh, hi?" Sam said to you, half turned in his seat.

"Hi," you waved shyly.

He was a lot bigger in person. The top of his head nearly hit the roof and his hair was gorgeous and thick. You played with the ends of your hair, wishing you had less split ends. Maybe you should cut it. Also, what kind of all powerful nephalem still gets split ends?! Talk about unfair.

"She's a friend of Claire's." Dean said, revving up the engine and peeling off down the road.

You didn't know how he knew where he was going. You didn't look at any maps with him. Maybe they'd been here longer than you and already surveyed the area? Claire probably called them too, you didn't have a cell phone and relied on her praying to you when she needed you. She didn't always trust you'd show up and she wouldn't have told them about you.

"Does 'the friend of Claire's' have a name?"

Sam asked his brother and side eyed you.

"Yeah, of course she does."

"And?" Sam inquired.

Dean hesitated and chewed his lip as he glanced at you in the rearview mirror. He never asked. "What's your name, little devil?"

Sam screwed up his face and mouthed 'little devil' dubiously to himself. You guessed it wasn't a typical nickname he gave women.

"Y/N."

You didn't give a last name. You supposed you didn't really have one. Castiel and Meg could never settle on one long enough.

"Y/N," Dean repeated in his deep voice. It felt like wings in your stomach to hear him say your name. "You don't look like a Y/N."

"Well, it's the only name I got." You snapped, a little hurt. You liked your name, it was the only thing your parents ever truly agreed on.

Dean chuckled and glanced back in the mirror again. "You’re cute when you're frustrated, Y/N."

The dork was teasing you. He either thought he was funny or flirting, you couldn't tell which. Maybe both, you didn't like it. It was new territory for you. You didn't often bother with humans, but Dean was different. He was a lot like you in many ways and he was -mostly- adorable. When he wasn't intentionally trying to be annoying. 

You blushed -first time that ever happened- and kept quiet for the rest of the drive. Dean explained to Sam what you were about to walk in on and they already seemed to know it was werewolves so you didn't bother to pipe up.

The woods were dark and the sound of wind eerily howled through the treetops. You'd have shivered if you were scared at all but you couldn't be harmed, not really. Someone would really have to get the drop on you for that to happen. And what else was there to be scared of?

You only worried about Dean. It was nice having him around. You realized now why your father liked him so much. You didn't know Sam all that well, though and he kept giving you ‘off’ glances as if he was trying to figure you out. As if he knew you were hiding something.

Barbie doll was too smart for his own good.

"Here, take this?" Dean said, shoving a silver gun in your hands after he'd parked down the road from Haden's cabin.

"Uh-" you held it between your forefinger and thumb, as if you really didn't want to hold it. You never used a gun before. You never had to and you rather not. "I'm good, thanks."

You tried to hand it back to him before it went off. As if it was that touchy. He just stared at you confused.

"You need something to defend yourself. You have done this before, right? Hunting? You're a hunter?"

"Yeah, totally!" You over sold it.

Sure, you hunted before, but you used your powers and let’s face it, nothing was ever a challenge. Even a pack of werewolves couldn't take you. You could fight and hold your own but you never needed a gun.

But how could you tell Dean that?

You stared at the gun, still holding it in the air between you and he sighed, "Here, hold it like this."

Dean stalked behind you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You felt his chest on your back and you leaned back into him. Looking over your shoulder at his face next to yours. He let out a single puff of air, amused, and turned your head forward again with his hand on your chin.

His scruff brushed your cheek as he lined up the gun in both of your hands in front of you. You smelt sweet peaches on his breath again and melted in his arms as much as you could without him really noticing.

"Finger off the trigger. This hand-" he grabbed your non-dominant hand and wrapped it around the other already gripping the gun, "-goes here. Keep your thumb there." He pointed to the switch next to your thumb, "Safety's on," he switched it off, revealing a red dot in its place, "Off. Line up this point with this one." He pointed out the sights of the gun. "Never point it at anyone you don't plan on shooting. Got it?" 

"Got it," you breathed. 

Dean switched the safety back on and let you get used to the feel of it in your hands. You could use this hunk of metal one time, you guessed. 

If a human could then why not? You were superior in every way. Super-powered anti-hero in human disguise to the rescue! 

It was quiet outside in the woods as you inched towards the cabin. And before you knew it, you were inside searching for signs of Claire when you heard the boys bashing around in the other room. Grunting and smashing into things. Glass breaking and shots firing.

You had split up and with no sign of Claire you made your way back to them to help out. Finding Dean pinned by three werewolves while Sam fought off one with another on his back trying desperately to bite his neck.

The pack was bigger than the boys anticipated. And brawling. 

You didn't expect aiming the gun to be so difficult and after missing the first couple shots -hitting the drywall in front of Sam and scaring the shit out of him, which he showed with a glare in your direction and a shout of 'Stop helping!'- you aimed again. At the werewolf on Sam's back and shut your eyes.

You squeezed the trigger fast three times then listened as a body fell to the floor.

Thump.

You grit your teeth together, hoping and praying and peeled open your eyes.

Sam was still standing. Thank granddad. Dean would've hated you for friendly fire. You aimed at the werewolves standing over Dean next and emptied the rest of the clip into them. 

They fell to the floor and Dean fought off the last one as Sam finished off the other. 

Then things were silent again. 

"Holy shit! Good shootin', little devil." Dean laughed and fell against the wall to catch his breath. 

Sam just clenched his jaw and glared at you. 

What was his problem? Did he know you closed your eyes? You aimed better that way anyways. 

"Where's Claire?" Sam grunted and rubbed his neck where the werewolf had tried to bite him. But his hand was covered in blood, "Dammit."

"What?" Dean asked, standing tall and glancing at Sam's hand. "You're bit?... Sammy?!" 

Dean's hands were in his hair and he spun around on his heel in disbelief. Then stalked over to his brother and pulled aside Sam's shirt collar.

"No. Fuck, no!" Dean shouted and punched the wall next to them. 

Then he threw the only lamp left standing across the room. It shattered in his fit of rage and he pulled down the bookcase for good measure. 

You set down your gun and padded over to Sam. Sam, eyeing you the whole time with zero trust in his stare. You popped up on your tiptoes and pulled him down by his shoulders to whisper in his ear. 

"Close your eyes." 

Sam furrowed his brow while Dean was busy hyperventilating in the corner. Rubbing his hands all over his face and scrolling through contacts on his phone, probably trying to find some non-existent cure.

But Sam was bit and Sam would turn if you didn't do anything.

"Trust me for one minute. What do you have to lose?" You whispered again and Sam let his eyes fall shut.

You placed your palm over the bite and channelled your energy into healing him. A blue light pulsed from your hand and Sam hissed. It probably stung like a bitch. But it beat turning into a werewolf and having to munch on cow hearts just to survive.

You wiped away the blood from his neck with your sleeve, inspecting your work. The skin was perfectly smooth like the wolf's fangs never punctured through.

You smiled, finally something went the way you planned. Doing good felt good, when it went right.

"How do you feel?" You asked just to make sure.

"Better, I guess." Sam's eyes fluttered open and met yours. His gaze of hazel softer than before, though still hesitant. "Thank you, I think."

"No biggie. Just a little spell I picked up over the years." You shrugged. You didn't think the boys noticed the lie.

Them thinking you dabbled in witchcraft was probably safer than them knowing the truth. At least for now.

Dean stood up, hanging up his phone mid-ring and walking over to Sam to check out his no longer existent wound. He glanced at you and you noticed his itchy trigger finger at his side.

"You're a witch?" Dean accused as if you kicked his puppy.

"No."

"Bullshit! That wasn't elementary magic, Y/N!" He shouted but still didn't raise his gun.

"Dean, calm down, man. She saved my life." Sam said, stepping partially in front of you. "Just this once, don't freak out how you always do."

Huh, save his life once and the big guy's already on your side. A turn of events you didn't see coming. Maybe there was more to him than just barbie doll hair and fault-finding glares. He knew you were hiding the truth but he didn't seem to care anymore.

"Shut it, Sam." Dean gave his brother a sideways look. "You know how I feel about witches. Blood sacrifices, hex bags and bones everywhere. There's always a price with them."

He gestured towards you and you scowled back at him. Not only a little hurt because you just said you weren't a witch but also because... didn't he feel what was between you, too? Or was it all one sided?

Maybe you should've let Sam die. He'd still think you were human then. You could've hidden that part of you forever. Or, at least, until he started to notice you weren't aging.

But, no, Sam was cool. You were glad you saved him. Maybe you could erase Dean's memory of the past five minutes. You never tried that before but it should be possible, right?

"'M not a witch," you mumbled and watched your boots. "I'm not bad, I want to be good."

That was true. It was the most honest you'd been with a human or anyone ever and you really wanted Dean to like you. Maybe this was the way to go. With honesty.

"I could've hurt you. I could've killed you both." You glanced up and met Sam's hazel eyes then Dean's green ones. "And I wouldn't need the gun to do it."

It was a bit of a threat, but an honest one. And they both seemed to get the weight of your words when neither one of them looked away. They looked anxious like they didn't want to be caught off guard by your next move.

"I'm on your side as long as you're on mine-" you cut yourself off thinking you heard something.

There it was again. Like a banging in the distance. Did they hear it too? You furrowed your brow when you noticed Dean was speaking.

"What do you-"

"Shh," you cut him off and titled your head towards the noise to hear better.

Dean took a couple steps towards you. A glint in his eye.

"Did you just shush me, little dev-"

"Shhhhhh!" You shushed, pressing your palm over his mouth and listening intently.

Dean raised his eyebrows and you felt a smirk tug at his lips, which he clearly failed to hide and Sam huffed out a laugh at the scene.

"Do you guys hear that?" You asked but didn't remove your hand from Dean's mouth so he just shook his head.

"What is it?" Sam inquired.

Dean rolled his eyes and muttered something muffled. You flattened your hand over his mouth more and he groaned but didn't move away. He looked silently amused. Maybe, even... turned on?

"Claire," you said and the boys' eyes widened.

You walked away from them, towards the back of the house and then outside. Sam followed first, nearly tripping over your heels as you led him towards a shed at the edge of the property. Where the banging got louder to the point where you knew they could hear it too.

Dean came up from behind, all man-on-a-mission like, and pushed you both aside. He tried the door knob and when it didn't budge he proceeded to throw his body against the door. But it was sturdy as hell and he was only human.

You put your hand on his shoulder to stop him. Dean puffed hard and gave you a questioning look.

You punched out the deadbolt and twisted the knob until it gave way and the door slowly pushed open.

You smiled up at him and held out your hand as if to say, after him.

Let him go first. Let him feel useful.

He puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders. Silly, little human... but cute, silly, little human.

Dean took the opportunity and entered first, gun drawn. Sam next. Then you padded in afterwards, seeing Claire tied to a chair that was bolted to the ground.

Her wrists were bloody and raw and her nose looked busted. You scrunched up your face, hating seeing her hurt like that and waited for Dean to first untie her before you made your way over to her. 

Claire ripped the duct tape from her mouth, "About time you showed up," she snapped at you. 

"You were supposed to wait for me." You growled back, already feeling that anger bubble up within again. "Ungrateful, little-"

"Thank you." 

She must've seen the surprise on your face and started laughing. 

"It's way too easy to bust your balls, Y/N, lighten up a little, would you?" She smiled and you saw the blood dripping from her nose and staining her teeth. "I'm starving. Got anything to eat?"

Sisters are a pain in the ass. You didn't care if you were supposed to love her. She was beyond difficult and she knew it. But, you did still love her.

You touched her forehead, fingertips humming and glowing blue for a moment as you healed her. You didn't care if the boys saw, they already knew something was up.

And after everything, you wouldn't be so easily dismissed if they decided you were a threat. Dean was yours -you decided- but you wouldn't force him even if you could make his life a living hell if he didn't want to be a part of yours. You needed him to keep those parts of you quiet and he was damaged, too. He could use you, too. You could help him; help each other. You could try. But would he let you? If not, maybe you could be satisfied with just checking up on him from time to time. 

You hesitated a glance up at Dean, expecting contempt in his eyes. You should probably leave, take the memory of the way he calmed you and use that as an anchor, don't sully it with the look he'd give you now. Or when he found out what you were -who you were. But you couldn't stop your eyes from finding his. And you couldn't decipher the look.

"I need a drink," Dean started, "and a burger." He looked at Claire, "I'm phoning Jody." Then back to you, "And we're gonna talk about this. All of it."

You nodded and waited for them to lead the way back to the Impala. You hung back with Claire.

"Do they know?" Claire whispered over to you.

You shook your head, feeling what could only be described as bubbles in your stomach. You decided it must be butterflies. You never had them before now.

What was Dean doing to you?

The more he looked at you the more you felt the way humans were supposed to feel. But you didn't think you were changing at all, not on a molecular level, anyways.

"Are you gonna tell them?" She asked.

You shrugged, you didn't want to talk about it, you didn't want to think about it. Claire didn't seem to understand and continued. As sisters do.

"Do you want me to talk to him? Maybe Castiel could-"

"No." You answered flatly.

Your mess, your problem. You didn't want your father cleaning things up for you again. Although, this time things were different, cleaner. You could keep it that way. You wouldn't hurt them and you wouldn't force them.

You wouldn't use your powers against them at all; you promised yourself.

"Cass?" Dean overheard and turned around to walk backwards. "You know Cass?"

Fucking Claire.

Don't lie. Don't lie. Don't lie... -Okay, little lie. Tiny little white lie. Teeny-weeny. 

"No-"

"-Yes." Claire answered at the same time as you.

Fucking sisters, you scowled to yourself.

"A little," you corrected yourself.

That wasn't a lie, was it?

"Mmm," Dean sighed and pointed. "No more lying, little devil."

"Oh, for the love of-" Claire exhaled way harder than necessary. She had less patience than you. You would've thought she was half demon. "He's her father!"

"Claire!" You growled.

Don't kill her. Don't kill her. Do not kill her!

You glared.

Inhale. Exhale.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, you didn't notice until you ran face first into his chest.

"Ouch," you grumbled and rubbed out the pain from your nose.

You were all powerful, sure, but you still felt pain. And your eyes watered.

"Your Cass' kid?" Dean grabbed your shoulders and really looked at you. "How?"

You didn't look much like your father. You had Y/H/C hair and raven eyes. If it weren't for the whites around your eyes you could pass as a demon even when you didn't lose control. That was the main reason everyone was always scared of you. You looked -you laughed at yourself- like a little devil.

You could act like an angel a hundred percent of the time and as soon as they found out you were part demon and nephalem, not nephilim, they'd only see that and scatter.

Bite the bullet. Come clean. But if Dean didn't like you as a witch then-

"Remember Cass had that demon girlfriend?" Claire continued, as always, not minding her own damn business.

"Meg?" Sam asked, he'd stopped too.

The fucking car was right there. Thirty feet away! So close, yet might as well be an ocean away.

"So, you're a nephalem?" Sam asked again.

Did this guy live in a monster library?! Seriously, didn't he know someone with such great hair shouldn't be a total nerd, too. Like give the less L'oreal-inclined a chance, for crying out loud.

You didn't know what to say. You couldn't deny it and you refused to defend yourself to measly humans who'd probably still judge you by your eyes despite anything you said.

So, you nodded. And you realized Dean was still clutching your shoulders, a little tighter now that you noticed.

"Cass and Meg?" Dean said aloud like he was trying to process the information but his brain wouldn't let him.

You didn't dare move a muscle, not because you were scared but because you were scared of scaring them off. So, you just kept your eyes on his green orbs. Willing him to feel anything other than contempt for the demon blood inside you. 

How did puppy dog eyes go again? Castiel taught you it in case you ever came across the Winchester brothers. He said it would come in handy as opposed to using your powers. Not everything had to be taken by force. Not everything had to be a feat of strength. 'Sometimes honey works better than vinegar', he told you.

You ran down the checklist in your mind: (1) tilt your head down, (2) soften eyebrows, (3) look through your lashes, and (4) open your eyes just a fraction more -but not too much or you look surprised, not adorable. We want adorable. Oh! And (5) -this one was optional- pout your lips. This step was always a fail for you, though... you disregarded it and followed through with the rest.

Sam was soulless once and Dean still loved him. You had a soul, you thought, would he see it in your raven eyes?

Claire broke the silence, slicing through the thick air with her loud voice, "She has a temper sometimes, but she's never hurt anyone that didn't deserve it. Can you guys say the same about yourselves?" What was she doing? You knew they couldn't, that's one reason your father wanted you to stay away. "Because I can't."

"So you're part angel, part...?" Dean asked, his hand sliding over your cheek to brush at the skin under your eye.

Puppy dog look was working! That never happened before! You were giddy inside but kept the look, letting him explore the depths of your eyes, letting him see everything.

"Part demon."

"No human?"

"Not enough to count."

There was a fraction of you that was human. The equivalent to a 0.0001 percent on an ancestry test.

When you were a child you wanted to be human, you refused to use your powers even and asked your parents if you could go to school with the other kids. But you grew faster than them so you weren't allowed.

That's partially why it's taken so long to learn your powers, why you stayed with your parents until now and you still struggled with keeping control; because you kept them caged up for so long, like a wild animal and now they raged against you with any strong emotion. Pain, pleasure, fear, anger, anything in excess was a trigger.

"So, 'little devil', huh? You must've had fun with that one." Dean chuckled and you placed your hand over his still cupping your cheek.

His skin was warm on yours but, funny thing was, you never felt cold until you felt him.

"You have no idea." You smiled sweetly.

Again, not the daughter of the devil but demon was close enough. Lucifer was kind of your grandfather by creation, or your uncle? Both? You didn’t know, those things were hard to keep track of and you weren’t on speaking terms anyways. 

"Do you eat?" Dean asked.

You shrugged, "Sometimes."

"But you don't have to, do you?"

"No." You admitted and looked away. "I do love anything with cheese, though. Cheese is the greatest thing your kind ever invented... food wise."

"Really? Not chocolate?" Claire gaped.

"Umm," you thought about it, "it's a close second."

Dean laughed with a warm smile, "Let's get you something cheesy, then."

You beamed.

You honestly didn't expect Dean to react this way. You thought it probably had a lot to do with Castiel being your father. They seemed close, in the past. Or you were getting played, big time.

Let him try something if that's what he was up to. He couldn't hurt you and chances were if he could, he wouldn't know how tonight. They'd have to research since even you didn't know your weaknesses, there wasn't much lore on the matter. 

You wanted to trust Dean and it was kind of fun to play human while you were around them so you tagged along to the restaurant. 

Claire frowned and pouted as she ate her pasta forcefully. You thought she bit her fork once but kept going. There was sauce all over her chin. 

Dean had called Jody on the ride to the diner and Jody chewed her out over not waiting for backup. She deserved it, but it was a little harsh.

Claire saved a couple of kids from that shed before she got nabbed. It wasn't just that she let her guard down. She did good.

You didn't tell her that, though. It would only enable her and if anything happened to her you knew your father would be upset. She was a small human, not incapable but there was an advantage to being either powerful, like you, or big and strong like Dean and Sam.

"Earth to Y/N." Dean waved a hand in front of your face.

You didn't realize you'd been staring at his forearms, the sleeves of his flannel rolled up just enough for you to see his muscles move as he ate his cheeseburger. Sam had a salad, what the hell? Didn't a moose need more fuel?

"How's your poutine?"

"Pure cheesy goodness." You sighed and picked out another fry, twirling the melted cheese onto the end of it and sticking it between your lips.

You hummed at the taste. When Dean asked if you'd ever tried poutine and you said 'No', he completely flipped out and demanded you order it. There were no regrets but your mind was wandering with him sitting right in front of you. There was nowhere else to look and he was a masterpiece. 

Sam had his perks, too, his shoulders were massive and you never noticed things like that on humans before but you think you liked that. Big shoulders. Dean had them, too. Must run in the family. 

You sucked the gravy from your fingers and let out a slow breath with a little sigh. It sounded like a light moan.

"Y/N," Claire hissed and elbowed you and you saw her blush. "Can't you be normal? One time?"

You pouted -not really sure what the big deal was, it wasn't that loud- and picked up another fry. It's been a while since you ate anything, since you didn't really need to eat anything and it tasted really good.

You held up the fry, sticking out your tongue and sucking the melted cheese thread from the end of it into your mouth. You circled the tip of your tongue, collecting the thread until the fry met your lips and Claire jabbed you in the side again. 

You glared at her, muttered a 'What?!' and rolled your eyes. 

"Enjoying yourself?" Dean asked, his gaze heavy and his food left abandoned on his plate as he watched you.

"Mhm. Want some?" You offered innocently and sucked the gravy from your thumb.

"No. I'm having fun watching you, little devil. Keep going." He said and wet his bottom lip.

What did he just say?! You blushed. Hard.

You absolutely loved the butterflies he made come to life in your chest and stomach. Yeah, you were keeping him.

"Here. Just use this," Claire shoved the unused fork next to your plate at you. "And stop moaning, for fuck's sake."

"Sorry," you grabbed the fork and stuck it into a couple of fries. "Happy now?" You asked sarcastically, demonstrating the use of a fork by shovelling it into your mouth like Claire had done with her pasta.

You pouted to yourself, it tasted better with your fingers. That was weird, though, right? Next time you'd get it to go and eat alone in your motel room the way you wanted. 

You'd given up on being normal a long time ago. Weird was your forte. You were Castiel's daughter, after all, and Castiel was the king of weird. He made it cool. 

Your father brought you up to love yourself and Claire was just being Claire. Sometimes you got along and other times, you didn't. You thought having the boys here kind of put her on edge, too. Like she wanted them to approve of her and by extension, you. 

You had an inkling Dean approved of your eating methods, though. Maybe not Sam, even if he was all shades of red right now, and avoiding all eye contact, and he kept shifting in his seat like he was uncomfortable. It was funny. 

_____

Dean refused to stay at the motel near the dive you met him at -the closest motel in town- and instead drove for two hours to the next one. Which didn't look a whole lot better. It could only have, like, maybe half a star more than the last place. 

You had a room all to yourself, as did Claire and the boys shared a room with the two queen beds. In the morning they were set to drive Claire back home to Jody and the others. They wanted to make sure she actually got there and didn't run off again to do something stupid, as usual.

You didn't think it would matter, she would do whatever she wanted as soon as she got the chance. So, why delay the inevitable? As long as she called when she got in a jam and kept someone up to date on where and what she was hunting, you let her do her thing.

Even if the worst were to happen, you could always bring her back. You successfully resurrected a bird last summer. Castiel tried to explain balancing the universe or something but you didn't understand letting things suffer if you could give them a second chance. 

Like the bird who was minding his own business, pecking for worms in the grass in the rain when this plump house-cat came along and snatched him up. That bird probably had a nest to feed and that cat was just bored. You gave him a second chance. How could that be a bad thing?

That being said, you weren't about to take any strolls through the cemetery to awaken the dead. Even you had your limits. But you'd break the rules for the select few you truly cared about.

You sat on the edge of the bed in your motel room, flipping aimlessly through the five channels on TV. It was late, you were bored and you didn't sleep. You should've told Dean not to bother with a room for you but you didn't want to leave them just yet and he didn't ask.

Three quick knocks came at your door and you checked the digital clock on the bedside table.

Three-O-two A.M.

You shut off the TV -not wanting to watch the weather channel anymore, it was boring and repetitive, but you liked the tune they played in the background over and over- and walked towards the door. You undid the locks and opened the door.

You understood why people in horror movies were usually scared if something like this happened, but when you're nearly invincible, nothing like that really scares you anymore. Other things scared you, though, like if Dean left without you in the morning.

Sure, you could easily find him anywhere he went, but if he didn't want you around... that would be scary. Because, you really liked him and you drew the line at actually forcing yourself on him, even in a friendship.

But there he was, standing in your doorway and looking like he'd just woken up.

"Hey," he rasped, "Can I come in?"

"'Course," you stepped aside and shut the door behind him. "Something the matter?"

"Uh," he brushed his bedhead back in an attempt to comb it and glanced around the room. His green eyes settling on your still-made-up bed. "You don't sleep?"

It was more of a statement but you answered anyway.

"Do angels or demons sleep?" You shrugged and he acknowledged with a nod. "Dean? Are you okay? You look frazzled."

He laughed at your term and hung his shoulders as if you saw right through him and he knew he couldn't hide it with you. He sighed and sat on the edge of your bed, head in his hands.

"I had a nightmare." He swallowed like he was waiting for you to laugh, but you didn't. "It's always the same fucking thing." He continued and you stayed silent, crawling into a spot next to him on the bed. He didn't look at you and exhaled again. "I'm back in that house and it's burning, but I can't find Sammy and my dad's... just -gone. I feel the heat on my skin and in my lungs and I can't breathe… and then, I wake up, and I still can't breathe.” He looked up, finally meeting your eyes. "I don't know why or how, but... I can take a breath around you." He lifted his shoulders and turned towards you. "I had to make sure you were still here."

"I am," you nodded and smiled softly, "Is that a good thing?"

He huffed out a laugh, "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"Yeah, I'm your inhaler."

"Damn, sweetheart, you really do take after Cass, don't you?" Dean smirked.

You were aware of how clueless your father was with pop culture references, it was something you were working on with him. You supposed you took after him a little, you always liked when people pointed out your similarities, even with your mother, too. Not all stuff demon was bad.

"Like father, like daughter." You shrugged. 

********************************************

When Dean wasn't paying attention -lost in your raven eyes- you hit him in the face with one of your pillows. His face blanched and you giggled and spun away from him. His arms wrapping around your waist before you could hop off the bed.

"Naughty, little devil." He growled in your ear.

You barely hit him! And squirmed against his hold, I'll bet, not hard. You were pretending to be human again. It was nice for a change letting someone else be all powerful. Especially someone like Dean who felt powerless. You could see it in his eyes when he was talking about his nightmare. 

Your back pressed to his chest and you felt his heart beat fast against yours. You liked being in his arms, you never felt so calm with your blood moving as fast as it did. Usually when your heart beat fast it was because you were angry. Demon blood -almost literally- boiling. 

This feeling was so far from that. Your whole body buzzed like it was electrified and tingles curled your toes. Then Dean's palm found the hem of your shirt and snaked up underneath it, laying flat on the skin of your stomach.

Dean groaned and shifted behind you, his bowed legs wrapping around your hips and his arms pulling you with him as he leaned back against the headboard. He breathed hard into your hair and kissed your ear. 

"If Cass knew what I was thinking about his little girl right now..."

"I feel it, too." 

You threaded your fingers through his as he clutched you to him. Dean's grip easing a little as you melted into him. You turned your head to meet him with a slow, soft kiss and then he dropped his forehead to yours. 

You breathed heavy and added, "But stop mentioning my father."

Dean barked out a laugh and turned rosy, "Last time. Promise." And he kissed you again. 

"This is kind of crazy." You panted between kisses, neither of you pushing for more just yet.

"Mmm," Dean agreed, continuing to attack your lips until they felt swollen against his. "Do you wanna stop?"

"Never." You giggled. "Don't stop. Please."

You turned and straddled his lap. Dean brushed the hair from your face as he stared into your eyes. Frozen and lost in their endless depths.

"Your eyes are incredible," he breathed and you shied away. "Don't look away. Look at me."

You exhaled nervously and chewed your lip as you pressed your forehead to his and met his gaze again.

Nobody ever looked at you like that.

His hands on your back roamed up and down, squeezing anything he could get a grip on. His fingertips indenting your skin under your shirt when he held you and shifted his hips down the bed, just enough so you sat in his lap like a puzzle piece, as he leaned his mouth into yours and captured yours lips.

"It feels like you were made for me." Dean groaned and his hands fell to your ass. "We just fit so perfectly together."

He pushed your hips down and his bulge pressed between your legs making you moan softly in his ear. You were both still very clothed but it felt nice to finally fit with someone. Like you knew where you belonged all along.

"I need you." You breathed into his ear, sucking his lobe between your teeth and nibbling. You felt him catch his breath and kissed down his neck. "It feels right with you. Don't leave me, ever."

You knew you were coming on strong but he had to already know what he was getting into. Cass' daughter and a nephalem, stronger than any other being on earth including Chuck. He had to know you weren't some one night thing. He certainly looked at you like you weren't.

"I don't plan to." Dean vowed, tugging the hem of your shirt up.

You let him strip it off of you and he went for your bra next. Covering yourself when he threw the wire beast to the floor. He met your eyes lovingly.

"Don't hide from me, little devil." He murmured and pulled your arms away from your chest. "You're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on."

"You really know how to make a girl melt, don't you?" You laughed and hugged him, pressing his cheek to your chest. "Your turn."

You leaned back from him and tugged his shirt over his head. Trailing your fingertips over his anti-possession tattoo while he watched you with lust blown green eyes.

Dean threw you onto your back and climbed over you, ravaging your neck as heat throbbed between your legs. You moaned and felt him pull at your leggings. He tugged them down to your knees and you heard the zipper of his jeans follow.

You pushed the rest of your clothes off with your heels and Dean rid himself of his, then plastered his body back to yours. Feeling every inch of his skin pressed against yours.

He settled between your legs and his green eyes met your raven ones. A smile quirked his lips and he kissed down your chest as he hooked your knee with his arm, spreading you open.

His lips teased your nipple and you whimpered and threaded your fingers through his hair. Tugging when he teased the sensitive flesh with his teeth.

Dean grunted and kissed his way back to your lips. Trailing his moist breath over your skin and sending shivers through your body, down to your toes.

Fuck, he felt good. 

Your body was humming when he nudged between your legs, lining himself up and thrusting inside of you in a single push. You cried out and held his shoulders, feeling him breath deep and his muscles move slowly as he rocked into the apex of your thighs.

Pleasure quickly filled your veins and you latched your ankles around his lower back, keeping him pressed to you. Your breasts flattened against his chest and his thrusts grew faster and stronger as you tried to keep up, moving your hips in time to meet him.

Your hips bumped into his and you felt his tummy tighten against yours as he grew more desperate for you. His hand gripped your ass as he pressed himself more into you and your fingers tangled into his hair at the sensation, pulling the short strands and making him groan.

Fuck, he felt great!

Inside of you, on top of you. You felt grounded like you belonged exactly where you were. Like this was always meant to happen. Like you couldn't contain whatever was building between you. Like you were about to burst in the most unimaginably delightful way.

He grunted in your ear and the heat between your legs blossomed, your eyes rolling behind your lids as you shut your eyes and rode out your orgasm. Holding onto him for dear life.

He was a god among men.

Dean groaned louder, feeling you clench around him as he continued to push into you again and again. Pumping a few more times as he chased his own end and he started to come. He breathed heavy and loud in your ear, burying himself inside you with one final thrust and holding your hip with his hand as you felt warmth spill inside of you.

You didn't know if you could actually get pregnant by being with a human, your body was still flesh and bone to a certain extent, but at the moment you didn't care.

Dean fell onto you, pressing you into the mattress and you held him, tracing circles along his shoulders with your nails and kissing his cheek. He sighed, hot breath in your hair and on your neck and his lips found yours again. Kissing you deep and needy until the urge for air burned your lungs.

"Y/N..." Dean started and puffed against your lips, still trying to catch his breath. "I..."

"What?"

"It's never been that good."

But he shook his head and kissed you again. His kisses soft and pliant, easing as his heart fell back into a steady rhythm.

You did it again about a half hour later. And showered together as the sun rose, barely getting any sleep. Or Dean barely got any sleep. You were sure today would be one of the lucky days that Sam actually got to drive the Impala and you planned to spend the car ride holding Dean as he slept in the backseat. 

********************************************

After dropping Claire off with Jody -whom you got to meet and genuinely liked- you tagged along with the boys to a few other cases along their route back to Lebanon. More than one of those cases taking you way out of the way.

The detour was scenic and pleasant and you weren't in a rush for the road trip to end. You weren't entirely sure it ever ended for them. And you wanted to stick around for a while, find your sea legs and stand on your own, but with them by your side. With him.

The infatuation didn't end in that motel room and neither did the sex. But it was getting harder and harder to find time alone and you were ready for some time with just Dean, a bed and maybe some cheese -not in bed but maybe between romps in it.

The Impala -or Baby, as Dean called her- rolled into Lebanon late in the afternoon and up to a red brick building that looked like a warehouse. This must've been the bunker that your father often talked about. And when the car took the road around the back towards the secret entrance to the underground garage, there he was standing guard outside, just waiting.

Your father. He looked angry -his facial expression never actually changed, but you knew his cues after the years- and he held your eyes through the window of the Impala. Shit.

Castiel stood outside waiting for who knows how long. Trench coat blowing open in the breeze and his tie loosened a bit more than usual.

You might've sent him to voicemail more than a couple of times over the past weeks -after Dean insisted you get a phone to keep in touch- and when you listened to the messages, he wasn't all that thrilled about you hanging around with the boys, especially Dean. And especially since he knew how Dean was with women. You liked to think you were different together, though, it wasn't like you had much luck with serious relationships in the past either. So, you would figure it out together.

It wasn't your father's business but it was clear in his eyes when you stepped out of the car to meet him that he wasn't getting that.

"Cass-" Dean greeted as he climbed out of the car with you, a giant smile plastered on his face as he approached his friend.

Cass glared at him and touched his forehead. Dean instantly fell to the ground unconscious before you had a chance to catch him. Luckily it wasn't pavement so it wasn't a hard landing.

"Was that really necessary?" You snapped at your father.

Sam rushed to park the car and jumped out to check on Dean.

"Cass, what the hell?!" Sam growled, kneeling next to his brother and Cass touched his forehead next.

Sam fell over awkwardly on top of Dean and you thought maybe you should push him off but then your father spoke to you again.

"It's time for you to come home. You had your fun, Y/N." He said and stuck his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.

"I don't want to." You glowered. "You're pissed, I get it, but why are you taking it out on them?"

"Dean can't love you," Cass explained and his blue eyes flicked down to Dean's unconscious face, half hidden under Sam's arm. "He won't ever choose you over his family... over Sam. Me and your mother will choose you every time. Come home."

"I don't need him to choose me over his family, I want to be a part of their unit, I want to grow with them-"

"You can't grow with them, Y/N, you'll watch them grow old until the day they die. You could watch a million generations fly by before you even age a second."

"I don't care! I want him while I can have him! As long as he'll have me." You screamed and your chin trembled so you clenched your jaw tight.

"You'll care in ten years when he gets injured easier, twenty when he starts looking more like your father than your boyfriend-"

"Stop."

"And in thirty years, he'll probably be dead, hunters don't last long, Y/N, especially human ones." Your father vented almost like he wasn't just trying to convince you.

Cass and Dean were close, he wouldn't just let him die. He wouldn't just continue on without him. Dean would impact your father on a deep emotional level before his time came, he already did, you saw it as much as he tried to ignore it. Or not think about it.

"Please. Stop." Your voice was quiet now and Dean started to stir underneath Sam's limp body. "If he can't live forever, I want to be human, too."

You looked up at your father with tears in your eyes. You hardly ever cried and Cass steeled his jaw.

"I'll find a way," you promised yourself and wiped away a tear.

Your father's face fell, like he wasn't expecting that response and breathed out a long sigh, "Your mother isn't going to be happy about this." He shook his head and loosened his tie a little more. "But I'll help you, if you're sure. Because I love you."

Your father would do anything for you even if it broke his heart to do it. There were ways to get the best of both worlds, though. You never tried it but if an angel lost their grace, they turned human. You could siphon your grace and store it for the future, then you could grow old with him for as long as it lasted.

The only problem was the part of you that was demon. You didn't know how that would balance out if you lost your grace. But you'd find a way. 

You hugged your father when you saw his heart breaking and assured him that he wasn't losing you. And who knows, maybe you'd find a way to make Sam and Dean live forever instead, and then you wouldn't have to give up anything.

Dean groaned and pushed at Sam's arm, shifting out from under his little brother's heavy body.

"What the fuck, Cass?" He groaned as he checked on Sam and stood up. He saw you hugging and nodded like he understood, "Guess, I may have deserved that." 

"I'll be watching you," Cass said, squinting his steely blue eyes and pointing between them and Dean. A reference to a movie Dean probably made him watch. "She's my baby, Dean, treat her like she's your Baby." 

He nudged his head towards the Impala and you laughed as you skipped back over to Dean and into his arms. You held him tight around his waist and squeezed until you heard him huff in pain and curse.

You loosened your grip but didn't let him go. You have to squeeze adorable things, everyone knew that; Dean was tough, he could take it.

"Fuck. I don't want to be on either of your bad sides." He admitted and kissed your forehead. "You did good, Cass, she's beautiful... and strong as fuck. Shit, little devil, I think you just cracked my ribs."

Cass quirked an eyebrow at the endearment and you laughed at your father's face turning sour. Then Sam groaned from the ground behind you; which was a good thing, because Dean was going to need backup.

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28

SPN: @hobby27

#dean x nephalem!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean spn #dean x nephilim!reader #spn reader insert #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn #dean winchester #dean supernatural #supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean smut

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Concerning Habits

Dean and Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, Castiel x teen!reader (platonic obviously)

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you’re too embarrassed to share one of your habits with your brothers.

“Would you stop moving around back there?” Your oldest brother Dean demanded. “You’re shaking the whole car, just go to sleep.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do,” you grumbled, changing positions again as you struggled to grasp onto the sleep that’d been evading you for the past hour.

“Since when are you such an insomniac anyway?” Sam asked absentmindedly from the passengers seat, where he was pouring over one of the Men of Letters books.

“I don’t know,” you lied. You knew exactly why you’d been tossing and turning for the past hour, but you’d rather throw yourself out of the Impala then tell your brothers why.

Truthfully, it was kind of stupid. When you’d packed your bag to come on the hunt with your brothers, you’d forgotten to pack Jasper, the teddy bear you’d had almost since birth. You hated that you couldn’t get to sleep without him, but you’d tried before and it never worked. It was a little comfort in a world where comfort was few and far between.

You were sure that there were two reasons that you needed him to sleep. The first was more of a tangible reason; you’d gotten used to holding something every night for your whole life, so to be without it threw you off. The other reason was more personal; having that bear was like having a reminder of your whole family with you. Your mother had bought it for you, John had sewed an eyepatch on his face when one of his little plastic eyes fell off, and Sam and Dean had sewed up rips and tears in the thing countless times. Without him, you felt…alone. Like the little pieces of your family that you were desperate to remember were gone.

Of course, this was way too much to dump on Sam and Dean, who were just trying to enjoy a peaceful drive. So, you gave up on your useless attempts at sleep, and instead grabbed your headphones and turned on one of your playlists. You made sure to keep your phone under the small blanket over you, not wanting to alert Sam and Dean to your restlessness.

“Wake me when it’s my turn to drive,” Sam told Dean, and you couldn’t help but be jealous at the way he fell asleep almost immediately.

Four hours later, you had exhausted both your body and your playlist, yet still sleep wouldn’t come. There was still over six hours left in the drive, and you were sure that you were going to go insane.

When the Impala pulled over and Dean and Sam switched seats, you noticed Sam staring at you.

“Why are you awake?” He asked. Dean glanced back to look at you.

“I…” you didn’t have a good answer, so you didn’t.

“Did you sleep at all?” Dean asked, and when you ignored this too, he began to look alarmed. “Alright, what’s up? You need to sleep.”

“I’m trying,” your voice came out in a mumble.

“For the past four hours?” Sam didn’t sound convinced. “You’re either trying too hard, or not hard enough.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Why?” Dean asked. “You looked half dead when we left for this trip, I thought you’d be out in five minutes flat.”

“I just…I left something at the bunker,” you slowly sat up, giving up on even your fake sleep. “And I need it.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Dean demanded. “If you need it-“

“I didn’t realize until it was too late,” you sighed. “And-and I don’t need need it.”

“What’d you forget?” Sam asked, confused.

When you didn’t answer, Dean turned in his seat to face you.

“Kid? C’mon, talk to me, is it like medication or something? I might have some sleeping pills with me.”

You shook your head, feeling dumber than ever.

“Not-not pills, just…” you lowered your eyes, resisting the urge to hide under your blanket. “Just something that helps me sleep.”

“How about this,” Sam sighed, trying to stall Dean’s rising frustration. “How about I call Cas, and he can get it for you?”

“I don’t wanna bother Cas,” you said quietly.

“Hey Cas,” you flinched in surprise at Dean’s sudden outburst. “We’re on I94, mile marker…78, and we could use some hel-“ Dean stopped talking when Cas appeared suddenly next to you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ask her,” Dean gestured at you, and you felt your face heat up, your ears turning pink. It would’ve been embarrassing enough for your brothers to find out about Jasper, but an actual angel?

“Dean-“

“We’re gonna be on this hunt for days, I’m not about to let you just not sleep for days, so tell the angel what you need and get it over with.”

“You want me to help you sleep?” Cas asked, trying to understand why he’d been summoned.

“No, it’s just…I-I left something at home, and I need it to sleep, and since you can like, teleport…” your voice trailed off when you saw realization light up Cas’s face.

“Alright, what is it you want me to get?”

“It’s…” you couldn’t admit it, you just couldn’t. You tried to skirt around the answer. “It’s in my room…”

“You might have to be more specific,” Cas said slowly, his brows drawn together.

“It’s a bear, ok? A stuffed animal bear, and it’s on my bed,” you’d given up completely on both your attempts to keep the truth from them and any inclination to look at anyone in the car. You’d buried your head in the blanket that you held in your hands, and didn’t look up even when you heard the gentle whoosh of Castiel leaving.

“Kid, you ok?” Sam asked softly, to which you merely nodded.

“Here you go.”

At the sound of Cas’s voice, you finally looked up to see him holding Jasper out to you.

“I don’t understand. You seem distressed,” Castiel observed as you pulled Jasper into your arms.

“I’m not distressed, I’m embarrassed,” you huffed. “It’s…it’s just so stupid.”

“I’ve observed that many humans have sentimental attachments to objects, I don’t understand why this is different,” Castiel cocked his head.

“Stuffed animals are for kids,” you mumbled.

“So?” Dean’s voice from the front seat surprised you.

“So? You don’t think it’s stupid?”

“Kid, we all have our…” Dean searched for a word. “Quirks. And considering some of the issues me and Sammy have had,” his wry smile made you relax slightly, “I think ‘needing a stuffed animal’ is pretty low on our Concerning Habits list.”

“You really don’t think it’s that dumb?” You asked.

“Honestly, it’s below Sam’s haircut on my list of weird things in our family. Far below,” Dean scoffed, and you felt yourself relax completely.

“Ok, enough,” you grinned at the sound of Sam’s grumpy tone. “Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”

You finally settled down in your seat, smiling at Cas and thanking him quietly. Once he vanished, you stretched out completely in the back seat, and within minutes you were fast asleep, your bear tucked tightly under your arm.

Because you fell asleep so quickly, you missed the way Dean turned in his chair to smile at you, and the whispered conversation he shared with Sam.

“You know, that kid is adorable.”

Sam laughed softly, glancing back at you before turning back to focus on the road.

“Yeah, I know.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean and sam #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural dean #the winchesters #winchesters x reader #dean x sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #winchesters x sister #winchester x reader #the winchester brothers #spn sam winchester #castiel

[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

#fanfic #supernatural #spn #spnfamily #dean winchester #sam winchester #dark!dean x reader #sam x reader #darkfic #dark!dean #Dark!Dean x Reader #Dark!Sam x Reader #John x Reader #Dark!John x Reader #Dubcon #Dark!Sam Winchester #Dark!John Winchester

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— SCREAM (YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IT’S HALLOWEEN)

SUMMARY : it’s Halloween and it’s also your birthday, and Dean’s made a lot of promises about how it was gonna be the best night ever.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS : nsfw (18+), smut, fluff, tiny bit of choking, nipple orgasm

WORD COUNT : 3.4k

A/N : happy Halloween (if you celebrate) !!! title from avenged sevenfold and muse song. my sister convinced me to write this LOL. this is pretty much a Drabble, lol, leaving it open ended basically, you’ll see why… (also, when I write I pretty much assume everyone’s watch Supernatural at least once.. I never put any spoiler disclaimers bc I forget… lol but, yeah. pretty much everything I write will mention something from any and all seasons) XX

The Bunker was chilly this Halloween night, and for the first time in years, Y/n and the Winchesters weren’t tangled up in a hunt. The monsters, for once, didn’t take advantage of the holiday to get away with their usual tricks and modes of preying.

To be fair, their numbers had dwindled significantly since Jack became ‘God’ or whatever the hell happened. Hunting wasn’t nearly as hard as it was before, as if even monsters had free-will bestowed upon them. As if they’d chosen a better life rather than one in which they are hunted and killed.

Good for them. Everyone wins.

The only prey tonight is Y/n, but as far as she’s concerned the running is only part of the fun, and getting caught wasn’t something she’d hate.

As she breathed erratically and ran as fast as her platform heels could carry her across the concrete floor of the Bunker, her heart raced as if she were on any other hunt. But what made this hunt different was the spark of excitement that tingled up her spine and the flush of her bare skin.

She stopped at the kitchen and caught her breath momentarily, looking around the place as everything flashed red. To add to the thrill, mostly. She walked on shaky legs to the refrigerator and took out some water to drink it quickly. As she swallowed down a fair amount, she could feel the cold water travel down to her stomach and she sighed as her thirst and the dryness in her throat disappeared.

After about twenty minutes of hiding and running away, she was on high alert, her senses were heightened, and she could easily hear his footsteps—even over the alarm Dean had set off in the Bunker to scare her even more.

She quickly made her way out of the kitchen after setting the half-empty water bottle on the metal counter, checked both ways and began making her way into the dungeon, wondering if maybe Dean was there. If he could just catch her already, the dampness of her lace panties wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. Especially since she could easily feel it with the cool air inside the concrete walls of her temporary home.

Much to her disappointment, Dean wasn’t anywhere to be found in the dungeon or anywhere around there. Even if he’s the one that’s supposed to be looking for her, she just wanted to know what would happen once she was caught by him.

Besides, her feet were starting to ache, her legs were practically turning to jelly at this point, and her sweat was starting to feel uncomfortable. It didn’t sound very sexy to her, but she knew Dean would still jump her bones despite that. It was a nice feeling, to be loved… by him specifically.

She had to wonder if he was even trying.

Just forty minutes ago, he had texted her to take her clothes off and to wear the lingerie set he’d placed in Sam’s room for safekeeping. It had been in Cas’ room before that, but once Sam left to be with Eileen, Dean placed the white box on Sam’s bed. A huge, royal blue bow glittered in the middle of the boring room, perfectly positioned on the box with her name and a sexy note from Dean promising to make it the best birthday ever.

She’d waited in Dean’s room excitedly in the light blue lingerie and when he’d made his way to her, she couldn’t believe what he had in mind, what his plan was. He had some heels in his hands and she gaped up at the Ghostface mask that covered her boyfriend’s handsome face. He was covered from head to toe in a thick black robe, laughed at the look on her face, and got down to put her heels on her.

“How’s that, sweetheart?” He asked, his deep and hot voice muffled behind the mask.

“Uh,” she tried, then just decided to stand up and moved her legs around a bit to test the comfort. She nodded and he tugged her towards him, the smooth and cool material of his robe brushing against her soft and warm skin. She could feel every inch of him, and wondered momentarily if he was completely naked underneath, but instead of asking him flirtatiously, she just gasped.

She stumbled backwards for a few steps when he began to walk forward with her still in his arms. She chewed on her bottom lip when he had her pressed against the wall. She could see his green eyes through the thick black cloth that covered his eyes, the way they were looking down at her with so much amusement. If she had to go by those crinkles by his eyes, she had to guess he had the hottest, smuggest look on his face.

And he’d be right to.

He lifted her leg up slowly, held her knee by his hip, and squeezed her closer to him by her waist. Her heart raced at the sight of him and she felt wetness grow between her legs when he slotted his hips between hers.

All the while, she just clung to his arms, staring up at him in surprise and completely aroused by his calculated movements. Even her breaths had gotten irregular and he hadn’t said or done much of anything, but that was the effect of Dean Winchester.

“Run,” he murmured deeply, releasing her before stepping away.

She blinked up at him, “uh, what?”

He looked away, laughed softly, and grabbed her wrist. She chewed on her lip and let him spin her around gracefully. With a nice slap on her ass, he repeated the word ‘run’ much more sternly than before. She looked at the hallway in front of her in surprise, then looked down at herself in lingerie, then back over her shoulder at him in his costume.

He jerked his head to the left, quietly telling her to go.

And that’s why she was running now. They were half-assed attempts most of the time, but when she spotted him behind her, she felt her stomach flutter, and started to break out in a thrilled sprint across whatever room she was in to get away from him. When he chased her, the small hairs on her body raised above her skin, a shudder of excitement ghosting up her spine. It was way too fun to end the game, but getting caught piqued her interest, too.

Dean wouldn’t just start this whole game only for it to end at the capture. No, he was far too creative and way too frisky for that. He had something in mind, something mind blowing, some big treat at the end regardless of the outcome of this chase. That much she knew.

She made her way out of the dungeon, speed walking through the halls, checking her surroundings. At this point, she was considering the removal of her heels. They were very sexy, but definitely not ideal for running. Also, they practically announced her location with each click on the concrete floor, despite her efforts to walk awkwardly in attempts to muffle the sounds.

She had already checked the infirmary, the library, kitchen, bathroom, shooting range. She basically paid a visit to every room in the Bunker and had no luck in bumping into Dean in any of those places.

She thought about what to do about the heels as she went to the one place she hadn’t checked—the garage, where Dean’s favourite sexy, old cars remained. They were perfect for hiding in. Of course, Dean could be waiting to pounce on her from within any one of them, if he was looking through each room. She hoped for the latter, it would give her feet some rest from the painful running. She simply couldn’t walk in heels this tall for very long.

She quietly made her way up the stairs to stand at the entrance of the garage when the alarms stopped and the lights flickered off. She cursed softly under her breath, but Dean already gave his location away by shutting off the loud noises and distracting lights.

Once she slowly set foot deeper into the garage, she quickly scanned around the room, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She walked to the end of the garage where the black Bentley S2 was and looked around one last time with her hand on the door handle before sneaking inside the backseat of the vehicle.

The leather squeaked beneath her bare skin as she slid across and shut the door once she was inside. She wiggled around to lay down over the beige seat and relaxed at last. Bending her knee, she lifted her leg up to finally remove the heels. Mentally, she apologised to Dean when she took them off.

She lowered her legs and groaned when she looked at the tiny space between the backseat and the front seat. It wasn’t nearly as big as the Impala’s, really rather small, way too small for her to slip between comfortably on her back. If she were on her side… but no, that was out of the question.

She rolled her ankles, stretched her legs, bent them… She did everything until the aches in her legs mostly disappeared. And, wow, she could fall asleep right about now. Except there was a loud bang from something in the garage that made her jump, one of her hands immediately flying to her mouth to contain her hysterical laugh and a yelp.

“I know you’re in here,” Dean taunted nearby. She removed her hand to smile curiously and raised a brow. She wished she could sink into the car seat right about now, but also wanted to lift herself up to see him, but decided against it. Instead, she waited as he looked through every car, every second feeling like a lifetime and yet when he gently pushed against the car she was in with a loud bang, she shouted.

His chest was heaving, his gloved hands were placed on either side of the door where her feet were and she started to laugh instead.

“Hi, baby,” he greeted in a raspy tone, his voice slightly muffled behind the mask. He proceeded to open the door of the car and she sat up, her heart thumping excitedly when he peeked inside and saw her feet covered only in the white thigh highs. “Your feet okay?” He asked, then grasped her ankle, she barely nodded when he tugged her roughly towards him by her foot.

She quickly gripped the seat as the leather squeaked against her ass, heating up her sensitive skin. “Ow,” she chuckled, echoing his own apologetic laugh. He grabbed the seat and leaned inside, his other hand slid up her calf to grab behind her knee. She licked her lips and her face flushed as he parted her legs. Wetness pooled between her thighs, her clit pulsed at the ideas running through her head, instantly becoming aroused as he climbed inside the car, settling into the spot between her legs.

She reached out for his robe and tugged him forward. He reached up and brushed her soft strands of hair away from her shoulder, then let his hand slide to the nape of her neck to grip on it. She pushed out her chest, silently begging for his eyes to drop down and admire her. “You caught me…” she trailed off, feeling a tingle run down her spine when his gloved fingers brushed against her scalp.

“I did…” he teased, tugging her hair. She gasped softly, her thighs twitching to shut when she felt the pressure in her skull run dully to her clit.

The darkness made everything better. She could hear his breathing, her own just as quick as his.

“Are you ready for your first birthday gift?” He asked, disappointingly untangling his fingers from her hair to slide his gloved fingers teasingly down her neck, to the strap of her bra.

She shivered and bit her lip, felt her nipples tightening against the lace of her bra as her fingers slid down the front of her strap. “I thought this morning… with the crepes and with the way that you—”

“Well, this is gonna be your first gift of the night,” he interrupted her, sounding smug. Slowly, Dean slid his hand beneath the strap to drag it off her shoulder, and kept his hand there to push her down onto her back.

“How many gifts do you have for me?” She asked, watching him tilt his head thoughtfully.

“How old are you?” He asked rhetorically as he lifted her thighs above his.

She stared at the mask covering Dean’s face with confusion, then it twisted into incredulity. The soft material of his gloves slid up her sides teasingly, then right back down to playfully snap the garter she was wearing against her soft skin.

“You look so fucking hot, baby,” he groaned, hands sliding slowly over her belly, up her ribs, then coming together over her lace-covered breasts. He squeezed them playfully, felt her thighs become tense against his, and heard her breath hitch softly. “Was that fun?” He asked quietly, pulling the cup of her bra down, she inhaled shakily and whispered a ‘yes’.

Gently, he brushed his thumbs around her nipples, one uncovered and the other still safe inside the lace cup. Still, she felt a tingly sensation spark up on her breasts and between her legs. She murmured his name and arched her back slightly, reaching between her legs to grab his waist.

“I haven’t made you cum like this enough times, have I, sweetheart?” He gently rolled her nipples between his fingers and pinched them, slowly teasing, building up the arousal. She looked at him, face covered in a mask, but there was something so arousing about the darkness, the car, his hands on her chest, the material of his gloves creating a perfect sensation… about wearing the lingerie he bought for her, hearing his ragged breaths moggling with hers, occasional gasps and quiets moans filled up the backseat.

“We never have time…” she agreed, dazed with the yearning. She squirmed, wanting to feel more, but instead of removing his gloves he lowered the other cup and played with them both, used the same techniques to erect them and make her feel desperate, kindling her orgasm.

“Please,” she moaned, fingers wrapping around his wrist and tugging up.

“What?” He asked softly, playfully exasperated by her grip. He knew what she wanted as she searched for the edge of the cuff and began tugging downwards.

“I want to feel you,” she murmured, thumbs gently brushing over his pulse point where she could feel his heartbeat thrumming swiftly against the pads of her fingers.

“I thought you liked the feeling like this…” he murmured, removing one hand from her chest and sliding the other upwards to teasingly squeeze her neck. He teased her clit over the lace of her underwear with gloved fingers, her breath catching and barely moving past his gentle grip on her neck.

The teasing didn’t last and neither did the fuzzy breathlessness of his grip on her neck. He removed his gloves quickly and ghosted his fingers sensually up her body again, showing her the feel of his warm, calloused hands on her flushed skin.

She hummed softly, almost a pur, and placed her smaller hands above his, squirming as she attempted to hurry his hands. He only laughed at her attempts, ignored her little whine, and slid his hand under the baby blue bra. He lifted the lacey bra up her chest slowly, so the lace would teasingly brush against her sensitive nipples, and then made an arch over her cleavage.

Her gently used his thumbs to rub the underside of her breasts first, building up the feeling of his warm palm before cupping her breasts. With a gentle squeeze of her breasts, he murmured little praises to her, and tapped around her nipples.

She wiggled impatiently, her excitement growing by the second, heat rising from head to toe like conduction from the warmth of his teasing fingers. The little taps slowly moved inwards, it was gentle, and felt so good, but she wanted more. No amount of squirming from her made Dean accelerate his touch, minute by minute, he kept with the same technique, and finally switched to rubbing her nipple, pinching, twisting..

“More, Dean…” she whined, feeling irritated at being on the edge of her orgasm, like a wave that never came.

“Like what?” He asked playfully, tweaking her nipples to shut her up half way through her ‘fuck you’. Her knees pressed into his sides needily, her back was arched again and he rolled his eyes in amusement when she reached up to his face to pull off the mask. “Tell me first,” he murmured, leaning backwards, getting away from her hands.

“I need…” she laughed softly, “your mouth.”

“Good girl,” he praised tenderly, moving one hand away from her breast.

He moved the mask out of the way with one hand and leaned down over her body to flick his tongue against her nipple a few times. Her knees pressed harder into his sides and she moaned loudly, hands sliding into the hood of his cloak to grip his hair tightly. He wrapped his lips around her nipple, teeth pressing roughly around her flesh, tongue lapping at the hardened bud, and made his cheeks hollow as he sucked harshly, pinching her other nipple roughly with his hand.

Finally, she orgasmed, groaning out a long fuck as she shivered and pulled his face closer to her chest. It wasn’t nearly as intense as if he’d stimulated her clit or any of the spots inside her vagina, but it felt amazing nonetheless.

He smirked against her chest and waited for her body to relax before he pulled away from her chest with an obscenely wet sound and lowered the mask again. He rubbed her hips comfortingly and squeezed her flesh.

“You’ve got some real talent with that tongue of yours and those fingers,” she told him breathlessly, sitting up to wrap her arms around his neck.

“That was more than clear to me this morning,” he agreed with a laugh, gently running his hand up and down her back. “Hold onto me, sweetheart,” he ordered suddenly and wrapped an arm around her waist. She clung to him a little tighter and wrapped her arms around his waist as he made his way out of the backseat of the car.

When he stood straight, rather than setting her down, he kicked the door close—abandoning her heels inside, and began to walk toward the exit of the garage. He turned after a few metres and set her down onto the cold hood of the pale green car. She hissed softly at the coldness of the metal against her skin and let go of him to stare so the confusions into the darkness where Dean was standing.

“Can’t carry me anymore?” She teased, biting her lip.

“You’re really gonna be mean to me?” He snorted, dropping his hands to her thighs to play with the little, light blue bow on her long socks.

“No…” she pouted, reaching out for his hips to bring him closer. “I need you..” she whispered needily, feeling uncomfortably wet. He quietly unclipped the garter from her socks, gently trailed his fingers above the soft hem of them to get to the other side and do the same. Excitement began creeping up in her again and she bit her lip.

Languidly, he slid his hands up her thighs, snapped the waistband of her underwear and trailed his fingers over her pelvis. He hooked his finger under her underwear, felt wetness as he brushed past her folds, with a little moan, he pulled her underwear to the side and thumbed between her folds to gently brush against her clit.

She gasped quietly, her arms shook the longer he teased her. Torturously, he lowered her underwear and let them stay around her parted knees. She slowly lowered herself onto her back with his hand on her ribs pushing her backwards gently.

He lifted her feet to lay fat on top of the car, staring down at her silhouette, clearly making out her lingerie. She parted her legs as far as she could with the underwear around her knees. His fingers ghosted along the inside of thighs, as he kneaded her thighs, he murmured, “one down…”

➥ standing next to you

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