Escapism to the max

Dean Winchester x Reader (gn reader, no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Sam gets hit with a de-aging spell and you get to watch Dean truly take on the role of big brother again.

A/N: Inspired by this fanart by @beybuniki! Lowkey wanna write some more random Dean & de-aged Sam now bc the possibilities are endless...

The witch is cornered and she knows it. You finish fighting off her sister while Sam and Dean slowly close in on the older one. They took at least three people, and used some twisted witchy spell to make them age rapidly, die, and decay, to use their bones for their "work."

"The fresher, the better," they explained. That was enough for you and Dean to decide they couldn't be allowed to go on. Sam on the other hand, tried to reason with them, but as diplomatic as he is, it wasn't enough.

The younger one goes limp after you land a well placed kick to her head. You turn to see Dean aiming his gun at the other one, and Sam standing closer to her with his arms stretched out as she nervously kneads a hex bag in one hand.

"It doesn't have to be like this," Sam says calmly to the witch.

"Move, Sam." Dean's stubborn. His jaw is set. His hands are steady. He's clearly already made up his mind.

Sam ignores his brother as he keeps talking to the witch. "You care about her, right? Your sister."

The witch's gaze flickers to her sister, unconscious behind you. "I've always taken care of her…"

"So do the right thing," Sam urges. "This—" he motions around the room. "This isn't right and you know it… And there will always be people like us to stop it. You know that."

"You kiddin' me? You waitin' for her to just pinky promise they'll stop and be on their merry way?" Dean's voice is stern, never taking his eyes off of the witch.

"Dean, just—"

"No, Sam."

You see the witch's eyes dart to the three of you, to her sister, and it's clear she knows Dean won't concede. She's starting to panic.

Just then, you jump as you feel her sister's grip close around your leg. Dean's attention shifts to you. He shoots her, and he turns back to Sam as he sees movement in the corner of his eye. The witch reaches out to grab Sam, and squeezes the hex bag in her hand. There's a bright flash and she mutters something under her breath. The bag goes up in flames just before Dean fires off another shot and hits her square in the chest. He walks over and shoots her once more in the head just for good measure.

He clenches his jaw as he looks down at her. Despite the whispers, the rumors others may spread, he doesn't enjoy this part of the job. "I'm sorry, Sammy… This was only gonna end one—"

"Dean…" You cut him off and he turns to face you. You say nothing, not even looking at him. Your eyes are fixed on the small child sitting where Sam stood just moments before.

Dean's hands drop to his sides. "What the hell…"

* * *

Back at the bunker, you both stand in front of the couch where a five year old Sam sits looking up at you.

"What… uh… wh— were do we even start?" You say to Dean as you look at Sam. He looks even smaller, being swallowed by his earlier clothes.

"Well he can't stay like this."

"No shit, Dean."

He just shrugs.

Sam chuckles. "That was dumb."

Dean pushes his head back lightly. "Shut up."

"Don't tell him to shut up, he's like four!" you defend Sam.

"Probably like five or six actually," Dean corrects you. His eyes are noticeable softer than usual as he looks at his younger brother, once again truly his little brother.

You look at him and smile softly at the fact that he seemingly remembers so clearly what Sam looked like at each age. You look back at Sam and sigh. "Okay, well you've been through this before, right?" You ask Dean. "How'd you go back to… you?"

"The hex bag!" Sam says excitedly. It feels weird hearing those words come from such an innocent voice.

"The witch's hex bag. I just— I dunno, squeezed it and I was back. But the bitch from today burned it before I shot her."

"Okay, so… We research. Try to reverse engineer the spell," you say, knowing damn well it's much easier said than done.

"How are we gonna do that without him? He's the one with his nose in a book all the time."

You look down at little Sam. "You're not gonna be much help, are you?"

He looks up at you and shakes his head, smiling.

You sigh."Well first of all, he can't just stay in these clothes, and we can't take him out like this so… Just— stay here, get started on the spell, and I'll see what I can find."

"Oh sure, go shopping while I do all the work."

"Dean…"

He raises his hands in defense. "Fine, fine… I'll call Rowena, see if she knows anything about this."

"Okay. Good." You turn and grab the keys, but pause briefly and turn back to the two of them. "You two gonna be alright here?"

"You kiddin' me? I took care of this kid when I was ten." He ruffles Sam's hair and puts a hand on his shoulder.

You hesitantly turn back and leave.

* * *

 Just over an hour later, you return with a few different outfits. You hope you'll be able to return Sam back to normal soon, but it's best to have options just in case. You also grab some food on your way. You drop the greasy bag on the table and start to call out.

"Hey, I'm ba—" You're cut off by the unmistakable sound of a very frustrated Dean.

"Sam, give it back!"

"No! You don't know what you're doing!" Sam's bright voice fills the halls of the bunker.

"Oh, and you do? You look like you could still be in diapers."

Sam laughs. "That'd suck for you."

You turn the corner to find them in the library, Dean sitting across from his little brother, arm stretched across the table, reaching for his laptop. Sam holds it against his chest, laughing at his brother's frustration.

"I don't know what's goin' on." Dean sits back and crosses his arms. "When I got hexed, I was still me. He's acting like a child."

"You're acting like a child," Sam retorts mockingly.

Dean holds out a hand towards him and looks at you. "See?"

You chuckle. "Different variation of the spell, I guess. And honestly? Not much has changed between you two."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You shake your head. "Nothing." You turn to Sam and crouch down to his level. "Brought some clothes and some food. Go get changed and eat up."

Sam gets up and walks out, leaving Dean's laptop on the table before taking the clothes from your arms. He nearly trips over his own oversized pant legs on his way out.

"Damn kid," Dean mutters to himself.

* * *

The three of you eat, burgers and fries, of course, and milkshakes for everyone.

Sam takes an exaggerated bite and gets mustard on his cheeks. Without saying a word, Dean reaches over, grabs his napkin, and wipes his face. You smile softly, but keep your thoughts to yourself for now. Sam sets his burger down to take a sip of his shake, but seems to forget all about the food as soon as the sweet chocolate flavor hits his tongue. He starts guzzling it down as if it's gonna disappear if he doesn't drink it fast enough. Dean sees it and rolls his eyes before reaching over and taking it from his hands.

He takes the milkshake and puts it on the other side of the table. "Eat your food, then you can have at it. You're gonna give yourself a brain freeze."

"Hey!" Sam protests. "I am not, give it back!"

"Eat." Dean repeats sternly.

Sam whines your name and looks to you for help.

You look from Sam, to Dean, and back. "Oh, no." You shake your head. "That's all you, kid."

Sam grumbles but picks up his burger again and keeps eating. As soon as he's done, Dean slides the milkshake back to him as promised.

* * *

After eating, Sam goes to his room to watch tv, while you and Dean make your way to the 'Dean Cave'. He hangs up the phone and sighs as he drops down onto the couch. "Rowena said she's working on how to reverse the spell, but with the witch being dead and all, it could take a few days. Hasn't even been twenty-four hours and I feel like I'm goin' grey already. I don't know how the hell I did it back then."

You chuckle as you walk over to him. He looks up at you and places a hand on your hip as you stand between his legs, running a hand through his hair. "I know it's a pretty serious hex, but it's kinda… cute."

"Cute?"

You shrug. "Seeing you be a big brother. You're good with him."

"Yeah, well," Dean says softly. "Kinda had to be."

Your own expression softens as the words sink in. He's right. Some people are naturally good with kids. Some have to constantly work at it. But Dean was forced to be the best big brother possible, often having to go beyond what should be expected of any kid, and play both mother and father too. You'd hate to think how Sam would have turned out if Dean hadn't been the brother he was. The brother he still is.

You sit sideways across his lap, resting your head on his shoulder, and wrap an arm loosely around his neck. "You're a good brother," you say quietly. You're sure it's been years since Dean heard that, if he ever had, and he deserves to hear it.

"Ah," Dean shrugs. "He was never a bad kid."

You pick your head up. He isn't giving himself the credit he deserves and you won't let him get away with it, because he doesn't just deserve to hear how good he is with Sam, how important he was to him as a kid— he deserves to believe it too.

"Hey," you turn his jaw towards you. "Good or not, you were a kid too. It takes a lot to do what you did. I sure as hell couldn't do it."

"You kiddin' me? You deal with my stubborn ass every day, you'd be great with a kid…"

You raise your eyebrows. He hardly ever talks about hypotheticals like that, and that was one that you definitely weren't ready for. "Oh we are not touching that conversation with a ten foot pole."

He chuckles as he brings his lips to yours. "Agreed."

You hold his jaw as he kisses you, feeling the curve of his smile against your lips. You sit up a bit and one of his hands shift from your waist to your thigh. You let out a soft hum and feel his grip tighten just a bit.

"Gross! My little eyes don't need to see that!" Sam's voice cuts through the moment.

Dean groans as he lets his head fall back against the back of the couch. "Dammit, Sammy! What do you want?"

Sam shrugs. "I'm bored." He walks further into the room until he's right beside you and Dean. "I wanna watch a movie."

"I thought you were watching a movie."

"I wanna watch a movie with you," he says to the both of you as he sits on the couch beside Dean.

You slide off of Dean's lap and onto the empty spot on his other side. Dean rejects the idea immediately.

"Absolutely not. I'm not watchin' some lame… Paw Patrol… kiddy… crap."

You and Sam both look at Dean, mouths slightly agape. Paw Patrol…?

"What? I'm allowed to know things."

Neither of you move. Dean rolls his eyes.

"Whatever, point is, we're not—"

"Scooby-Doo!" Sam blurts out. "What about Scooby-Doo? Come on, Dean, you love those movies!"

You can practically see the internal battle going on in Dean's head. He doesn't want to give in, but he knows damn well Sam is right.

He huffs. "Fine. But I get to pick which one."

Sam gets up and grabs the remote, gives it to Dean, and the three of you settle in to watch Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School. But after the day he's had, Sam passes out around three quarters of the way through the movie. He shifts closer to Dean in his sleep, resting his head on his shoulder and draping an arm over him. Dean moves without taking his eyes off the screen, like it's still second nature, and lifts his arm up and around Sam, allowing him to get more comfortable. You make a mental note to have more movie nights in the future, because even if it isn't quite like this, the three of you deserve more quiet moments in the midst of never-ending chaos.

* * *

A few more days pass with Sam being stuck as he is, but it isn't too much of an issue. Things in the bunker are the way they usually are, for the most part. It takes until now for you to realize just how much bickering Sam and Dean do on a regular basis, because the few times you walk in to find Dean arguing with his five year old brother, the only difference that truly stands out is the height difference. You step in once when Dean takes Sam's tooth brush and holds it in the air where he can't reach it.

"Come on, it's been decades since I've had the reach on him," is all he says to defend himself.

You give him a stern look and he concedes, but not without ruffling Sam's hair first before walking away.

When Rowena finally does come through with the reversal spell, Dean seems almost hesitant to get on with it. Messing with Sam is fun, sure, but seeing him like that also takes him back to when times were… simpler. Not easy, by any means, but they weren't constantly on the verge of the end of the world.

When Sam is back to normal, you catch Dean's eyes lingering on him every now and then. Just as the softest look starts to come over his face, Sam will catch him, and he'll turn elsewhere. Sam always seems confused by it, but whenever you catch it, you know exactly what's going through Dean's head. He's seeing the same thing he always sees when he looks at Sam, only now it's a bit more fresh in his mind. He sees his little brother.

He nuzzles your neck before moving to do anything else, just to feel your pulse against his lips so he can get a baseline.

He subtly takes your wrist as he teases you, feeling you slowly get more and more worked up.

You look up at him and ask why he's smiling.

"You're just so pretty when you're this needy..." He covers his ass because he doesn't want you to know about his little experiment yet.

"Jack," you whine, because you need to feel him inside you already.

He drops your wrist and starts pounding into you.

His hands slips around your neck, feeling your heartrate increase with every thrust.

He adjusts positions, testing which ones get to you the most.

He loses focus for just a moment as he comes, spilling into you the way you always beg him to.

His hand moves to caress your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as his fingers slip to your pulse point again.

He counts quietly for a few seconds as he catches his own breath.

"Hm..." he hums as he leans down to kiss you, finally pulling out.

"What?" you breathe out quietly.

He just smirks as he crawls further down, leaving kisses along your body until he reaches your still dripping pussy.

Need You

Dean Winchester x Reader (gn, no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: You and Dean fight, but he comes back from a hunt touch starved as hell.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, fluff, needy Dean

A/N: This was inspired by the beginning of a Leon Kennedy Fic by @sonarspace, except I still can't write smut so it went a different way. Idk how it even came up on my feed, I've never played RE lmao, maybe it's a sign I should.

You sit alone in the motel room, after hours of pacing the room and trying to distract yourself by walking around the parking lot. You had half a mind to call a cab or steal a car and go to them, but Dean told you to stay put. You fought about it, actually. You and him had already been on rocky terms, and it just made the waiting a hundred times worse.

* * *

“Dean, I’ll be fine.” You said as you kept changing out of your FBI clothes. “You worry too much.”

Dean grabbed your arm and waited until you looked up at him. You didn’t see even a hint of the usual smirk he usually wore. “No. Not this time, it’s too dangerous.”

“Well if it’s too dangerous for me, then it’s too dangerous for you too. Now what, we just sit here twiddling our thumbs while more people die?”

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

Things started to escalate before you knew it. You fought back and forth with him, about the same thing as always. He worried for your safety to the point of being controlling about what hunts you went on. You told him you were just as capable as he was, which you both knew was a blatant lie. There was no other hunter like Dean. But you hated when he babied you, even if you knew he just did it out of love– out of a desperate need to keep you out of harm’s way.

You finally conceded, and sat down at the small table in the room as he and Sam went without you. Dean sighed as he stopped at the door and turned back to you.

“I’m sorry, alright? I just… I can’t… I love you. We’ll be right back.”

You scoffed at him. You were tired of the same fight. You should’ve said it back, but your stubbornness took over instead. “Fuck off, Dean…”

You stood and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door on him before he could shut the motel room door on you.

* * *

You sit and wait now. Sam already texted you after they wrapped up the hunt. They didn’t exactly come out unscathed, but they’re alive. He told you Dean got the worst of it, but didn’t give any more details after that. You hear the low growl of the Impala’s engine outside, but you don’t stand. Your body won’t listen to you. Instead, you slide your laptop over and open it, pretending to be busy with research, or looking for the next case when the door opens. You feel as if a weight has been lifted from your chest as Dean walks in and drops his bag.

“Hey,” he says casually, as if he didn’t look utterly beaten and battered.

“Hey,” you respond back.

You see the blood and tears in his shirt. You say nothing as you get up and grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. He walks over to you, sits in the chair, and lets you start patching him up. He doesn’t even put up a fight as you carefully take his jaw in your hands and tilt his head to better inspect the cut on his forehead, which is usually an indicator of just how exhausted he is.

He keeps his eyes glued to yours. His shoulders are slumped, and he looks like he’s about two seconds away from nodding off, but he can’t tear his gaze away from you.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters.

You pause and look at him. The spark in his stunning green eyes had gone dull. You go back to his injuries. “I know…” is all you whisper back. You clear your throat. “This one isn’t deep but I’ll need to clean it.”

You step back and look at the rest of him, more specifically at the torn shirt stained with blood. “Your side?”

“Just a scratch.” He reaches out for your wrist.

“Dean–”

“Just a scratch,” he repeats as he pulls you closer.

Despite his reassurances, you lift up his shirt anyway and take a closer look. It’s definitely a bit more than a scratch. You sigh. “Dean…”

“I know,” he mumbles as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and letting his head rest against your body. “Just… give me a minute,” he says quietly.

You bring your hand up and run your fingers through the short hair at the back of his head. “It’s not gonna fix itself, y’know.”

As the words leave your mouth, you realize they could have a double meaning. You’re obviously talking about his cut, but it also applies to your situation. Your fights. It won’t get better if you keep ignoring it like you always do, the both of you just waiting for the other to cool off and pretending nothing happened.

Dean doesn’t notice though. All he can focus on is your presence. Your scent. The warmth from your body.

“Just needa hold you… Will you let me hold you for a bit, sweetheart?” His voice comes out rough. It makes you wonder if something happened out there, or if he just felt bad about the way he left things. “Missed you.”

“You were barely gone a few hours.”

He shakes his head. “Not just tonight.”

The realization hits you like a splash of cold water. You’d been on the verge of fights constantly for weeks now. There was a noticeable space between you when you went to sleep at night. Your conversations were shorter than usual. The casual touches had grown less frequent. The whole time, Dean acted as if everything was fine. You thought he hadn’t noticed.

You let him hold you, standing between his legs. You would think he fell asleep against you if it wasn’t for the hand that keeps rubbing up and down your back. After a few minutes, you look down and see the blood stain that covers the cut on his side has gotten a bit bigger. You pull back.

“Okay… Time’s up, let me stitch you up.”

He begrudgingly sits up straight and loosens his hold on you. He slides down a bit in the chair so that you can have better access to his side. You grab the sutures and kneel down in front of him. You pause for a moment with your eyes fixed on his cut.

“I’m sorry.”

He lets his head fall back. “Yeah. You’re okay, sweetheart, I know the drill.”

He thinks you’re apologizing for the pain the stitches are about to cause.

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean… for earlier. I’m sorry too.” You sigh, still keeping your eyes on his torso instead of looking up at him. “I could’ve handled it better. We could’ve talked it through better.”

He lifts his head back up and looks down at you. He brings a gentle hand to your cheek, and you finally look up at him. “We both could’ve handled it better,” he says softly.

You nod and turn your head to place a kiss on his palm, before getting to work on the stitches.

He’s right, he does know the drill by now, so he hardly makes a noise as you pass the needle through his skin. It only takes a few sutures to close it, so you’re done fairly quickly. He lets you clean the surrounding area, and every other minor scratch he picked up.

As soon as you toss the final wipe onto the table, he stands and pulls you against him. His lips find your neck as he breathes you in as much as he can. He doesn’t leave marks– not this time. This time, it’s all about having you as close to him as possible. He wants to be surrounded by you, to drown in you.

He walks you backwards until you reach the bed, then gently lays you down, letting his own body follow, despite the aching in his muscles.

“Dean…” you breathe out.

“Shh,” he kisses your lips. He’s gentle as he slowly moves against you, yet it still somehow feels desperate, like he can’t get enough no matter how hard he tries.

“We can’t. You’ll tear the stitches,” you protest, even though deep down you want to almost as much as he does.

“It’s okay. We won’t go that far. I just–” he lets out a breath and it almost sounds like a whimper. “Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

You can’t help but chuckle softly, almost sadly, because yeah, you’ve missed it too.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” he says as he settles in beside you, face buried in the crook of your neck.

Dean Winchester x Reader (female reader)

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: You get really bad period cramps and Dean is there to comfort you.

A/N: I need more silly little ideas like this plssss. I always have no much motivation to write but nothing to write.

From the moment you wake up, you know it’s going to be a bad few days. You rush to the bathroom, feeling the all too familiar sensation in your lower abdomen, cursing biology and your own anatomy. The concept of periods were already bad enough, bleeding for days straight, with only a few weeks of reprive in between, but everything else that came with it was somehow even worse. You could deal with the bloodflow. Was it unpleasant? Sure. But manageable. The cramps though… those could sometimes take you out of commission entirely. And considering how bad they are already, you start mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

You look for painkillers in the bathroom. Anything– Ibuprofen, acetaminophen, naproxen, aspirin, fucking anything, but there’s nothing there. You sigh and wince as you stand, bracing yourself on the sink. You take a breath and slowly make your way through the bunker to the kitchen, where Dean is already sitting, nursing a cup of coffee. You ignore him as you walk straight to the cabinets and rumage through all of them.

“Fuck!” You shout in frustration, hand gripping your abdomen.

Sam stops in his tracks at your outburst, halfway through the doorway. He looks at Dean, then back at you. “What’d he do now?”

“What??” Dean sits up straighter. “I didn’t– She just–” He waves off his brother and focuses on you. “What’s wrong?”

“Where are all the goddamn painkillers?”

“They’re not in there?” he asks, and you give him a look that makes him regret asking. “Right. Okay…” His eyes drift down to your stomach and he notices the way you’re holding yourself. Oh. “I’ll go get some,” he says as he stands, taking one more sip from his coffee.

You don’t say thanks, but it’s implied. You sit down at the table and hold your head in your hands.

“You all good on… uh– supplies?” Dean asks from the doorway.

“Yes.” You grumble. “Just the painkillers.”

He nods and leaves without another word. Sam walks back over with two mugs, coffee for him, and tea for you. He sets it down beside you and you mutter a quiet thank you.

“I’m gonna go to the library for a bit, are you gonna be okay till Dean gets back?” He asks softly. You lay your head down flat on the table and nod.

By the time Dean does get back, he finds you back in your room, curled in the fetal position under the covers. He knocks gently as he enters. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“What do you think?” you mutter without moving.

He chuckles softly and makes his way over to you. “Here… Can you sit up for me?” He sits on the edge of the bed and drops a shopping bag beside you, digging through the contents. When you do sit up, you see he got a lot more than just pain meds.

“Jesus, did you buy the whole pharmacy?”

“Just some stuff I thought might help.” He takes your hand and pours a few painkillers onto your palm, then hands you a bottle of water. He keeps digging through the bag as you swallow them.

“Chocolates and candy if you want somethin’ sweet. Chips and other snacks if you want somethin’ salty. And… uh–” He pulls out a box. “This thing.” He shows it to you before opening it. It’s a heating pad. Not like the one you have, that you have to keep putting back in the microwave, forcing you to get up multiple times. This one’s electric, and weighted.

“The lady at the counter suggested it. Wanna give it a shot?”

You nod and he plugs it in beside the bed before walking over to the other side. He slides in beside you as you adjust the pad on your stomach, and places a kiss to the top of your head. He stays like that for a while, just letting you lean into him, waiting for the meds to kick in.

“Feeling any better?” he asks softly.

“Yes and no,” you mutter with your head tucked into his chest. “Pain’s a little better, but I still don’t wanna move…”

“That’s alright…” He reaches down and fidgets with the edge of the heating pad. “This thing doin’ its job?”

You nod.

“Good…”

“Tell me we don’t have to do anything today.” Your voice is quiet, a little muffled from the way you’re laying on him.

Dean chuckles again, not at you, or your discomfort, but at how cute and cuddly you get when you’re feeling like this. “No, sweetheart. You can lay here all day if you need to.” He gives your head another kiss and leans down to rest his own head against yours. “I’ll stay with you…”

He picks his head up a bit. “Unless… you’d rather just have the room to yourself?” he asks slowly.

You shake your head and tighten your grip around him, snuggling into him impossibly close, seeking every ounce of comfort from his presence. “Don’t go…”

Dean stiffens for a moment, then immediately relaxes into your embrace. “Don’t worry… Can’t just leave my girl when she needs me, can I?... You wanna watch somethin’? Help distract you a bit?”

“I can think of better distractions.”

He raises an eyebrow, knowing exactly what you’re thinking, and being all for it already. “Yeah?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No… Maybe later, but…” You place your hand on your abdomen again.

“You’re not at all in the mood are you?” Dean asks with a smile on his face.

“No… Sorry. Just existing feels way too uncomfortable right now.” You sigh.

He places a hand over yours, then slides it under your palm, gently massaging over where you’re aching the most. “Don’t apologize, baby. Not for that. Never for that.”

You don’t respond, so he takes his hand and gently tilts your jaw up so that you’re looking at him, so close you can feel his breath. “I mean it, okay?” he says just above a whisper.

You nod, knowing exactly what he meant. He was never the type of guy to expect anything physical from you, even when he was at his neediest, nothing ever happened unless you both wanted it. He smiles down at you, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “Good girl,” he whispers as he leans down and places the gentlest kiss to your lips.

* * *

A few hours later, you walk back into the kitchen. You stop when you see Dean plating your meals. “You made steak?”

Dean smirks to himself as he walks over to the table and sets the plates down. “Told you I was makin’ dinner, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but… Steak?” You slowly sit down, taking a big whiff. It looks perfect, and smells even better.

Dean just shrugs as he walks back to the fridge to grab some beers. “Sam suggested it. Something about your iron levels or… somethin’. Honestly after he said ‘steak’, the rest sounded like the teacher from those Peanut cartoons.”

He grabs something off of the counter as he walks back to the table “Here.” He gives you a quick peck on the lips as he places your stuffed heating pad in your lap. “Warmed it up for you.”

“Mm… thank you.” You adjust it and take your first bite. “Where’s Sam?”

“You’ve got all this in front of you–” He motions to the food, and himself. “And you’re asking about my brother?” He fakes offense, but can’t keep the smile off of his face. “He said something about the new salad bar in town.”

The two of you eat peacefully, talking about nothing important, just the mundane things that almost make t feel like you’re living a life resembling anything close to normal. Once you finish, the takes the plate to the sink for you, and as soon as you stand, he’s there to scoop you up into his arms. You let out a little squeal but don’t do much resisting. He carries you back to bed, lets you use him as a human pillow, and holds you close. He even lets you pick whatever you want to watch, not once complaining if you pick something that isn’t his thing. He spends the rest of the day, and the following days, spoiling you to no end, just because you let him.

Jack Abbot & Reader (Platonic, Age gap)

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Jack teaches you to change a tire because your dad never did.

No use of y/n, gender neutral reader, use of "kid" because of course he would

A/N: I genuinely have no idea where this idea came from. I just need an older man to teach me things without making me feel stupid for not knowing!

You sigh as you get out of the tow truck, already pulling out your phone to pay the driver as he lowers your car. You had gotten a flat on the way home from work and couldn’t do much else. Not because you didn’t have a spare– you did, and it continued sitting useless under the floor of your trunk. You just didn’t know how to change it. And sure, you probably could’ve been a strong, independent person, and just looked up how to change it, and tried to figure it out, but you weren’t exactly in the mood to be struggling on the side of the road while cars whizzed past.

You mutter a thanks to the guy, who definitely overcharged you, and watch him drive off just as Jack comes out of his house across the street. 

“You alright, kid?” he asks as he makes his way over without hesitation. It was just like him to check up on you. Ever since you moved in across from him after college, and overshared about your rocky relationship with your parents, it was like he made it his mission to make sure you were doing okay, even when you weren’t okay.

“Yeah…” You sigh. “Think I drove over a nail or something.” You crouch beside the tire and inspect it. Sure enough, you find a hole right on the edge of the tread. 

Jack couches down beside you and takes a look. “Oh, that’s not too bad. A patch should do the trick just fine.”

You slowly look over at him. “You can patch a tire..?” You ask innocently.

He chuckles a bit, but he isn’t condescending about your question. “Yeah, for small holes like this, a patch is usually enough to fix it. But– you might consider a replacement anyway, just because the tread is looking a little worn.” He reaches out and gently runs a few fingers over the nearly nonexistent tread.

“Want me to give you a lift? I’m assuming you’d rather get a replacement sooner rather than later.”

“I’m fine.” You stand. “I’ve actually got a spare in the trunk.”

“And… you called a tow truck because..?”

“I don’t know how to change it myself…” You say slowly, almost embarrassed. Is it supposed to be common knowledge? You sigh as you pull out your phone again. “Guess my dad was right, I really can’t get by without him…”

Jack looks down at the very sad looking tire, then back at a very sad looking you. “Want me to teach you?”

You look up at him, not quite shocked, but definitely a bit caught off guard by the offer. “Really?”

He shrugs. “I’ve got time.” He nods toward the trunk. “Grab the spare, I’ll go get my jack from the garage.”

He doesn’t wait for you to actually accept his offer, but he knows you will.

You get the spare out. It’s a bit heavier than you expect, but you do your best to act like it’s nothing as you get it onto the concrete beside the punctured one. Jack comes back with the– well, jack, and a tire iron.

“Okay.” He claps his hands as he straightens up and takes a step back to give you space. “First thing’s first– take this.” He hands you the tire iron and nods toward the wheel. “And loosen those lug nuts– the things holding the wheel in place. You may need to use your body weight to help, so it’s best to do this part before lifting the car up.”

“What, like… jump on it?”

“Maybe… more of a light hop, but– yeah.”

You do as he says and loosen the lug nuts one by one.

“Perfect. See, you’re a natural,” he praises. You know you’ve barely done anything, but you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips as you look down shyly. 

“Alright, now…” He shows you where to put the jack, and how to raise the car up safely, enough to remove the old tire and place the new one. He instructs you to now fully remove the lug nuts from the wheel, and pull the old tire off.

You struggle to pull it off of the frame. After a few tugs, you turn back to him. “Little help?”

He just shakes his head. “Nope.”

You stand. “What?”

“You’ve gotta be able to do this yourself, remember? Isn’t that the whole point?”

You sigh, but he’s right and you know it. “Yeah, alright…”

You get back to pulling, and eventually get it off, nearly falling backwards as you do, but Jack is right there with a firm hand on your back to keep you on your feet. “Hey! There you go. Good job, kid.”

You put the stupid flat tire down and huff. “Yeah… easy. Now what?”

“Grab the spare and get it on there.”

You do as he says, again, struggling just a bit, but committed to getting it done. He tells you to put the lug nuts back on. You place them all back on by hand, then reach for the tire iron.

“No, no–” He takes the tire iron from your hands. “You try to tighten them and jump on this now, you could knock the car off the jack,” he explains.

“Oh, sorry,” you say out of habit. A habit he had taken notice of by now, and tried to help you break.

“No, you’re good,” he says calmly, with a soft smile on his face. “That’s what I’m here for, right? To make sure you get it right the first time… Just tighten them as much as you can with your hands first.”

Once you do, he helps you lower the car back down until all four wheels are touching the ground. Then he hands you the tire iron back and tells you to tighten the nuts all the way, going in a crisscross pattern. Once you’re done, you stand and take a step back. “Is that good...?”

“That’s perfect.” He smiles down at you.

You smile back, then look down at the tire, feeling a sense of accomplishment. After a moment though, your smile starts to slip as you think about why Jack had to be the one to teach you something so mundane in the first place.

Jack, of course, notices the shift right away. “Hey,” he says softly as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. “You okay?” He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah…” You nod and look up at him. “Thank you.”

He shrugs. “It was nothing.”

You give him a pointed look. “Take the thanks.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles. “You’re welcome.” He releases your shoulder and checks his watch. “I’ve gotta go in for my shift soon. Make sure that tire’s actually got air in it before you try going anywhere.”

“Got it.”

“You know where to find me if you need anything.”

Beauty Sleep

Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Word Count: 570

Summary: You can't fall asleep in the back of the Impala on the way back from a hunt.

Warnings: None, fluff, Dean being a softie, no use of y/n

A/N: I've had this saved for over a year but never posted it anywhere. It was originally written in 1st person pov bc it was just a dream I had and wrote down... Enjoy!

It was a long hunt. You're all exhausted. You most of all, though for no particular reason. You'd all been chasing your tails for the better part of a week trying to figure out what you were dealing with. When you finally realized it was a vamp nest masquerading as werewolves, the job was wrapped up pretty quick, but the sons of bitches put up a hell of a fight.

You're on the way back to the bunker, Sam and Dean in the front, you choosing to take the back so you could try to get some shut eye. Sleep however, does not come easy.

You toss and turn for a good hour before finally sitting up again, resting your forehead on the back of the front seat.

“Can’t sleep?” Dean asks, looking at you in the rear view mirror.

“No no,” you reply without picking up your head. “I’m asleep right now.”

Dean chuckles. He 's used to your sassiness, and how much of a smartass you could be when you were tired or frustrated– and right now, you're both. “Just lay down again. Play dead. Let the car rock you to sleep.”

“I’ve tried that. Still nothing… How can I be so damn exhausted and not be able to sleep… It doesn’t make nay sense.” 

Sam turns around a bit to face you. “You wanna switch? Sit up here with Dean?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I’m always taking the front. You two could use the brother bonding time or whatever.”

It's true. Ever since you and Dean got together, Sam had always offered the front seat, but at some point you started feeling bad making him sit in the back all the time, so you started offering it back. It got to the point where you'd argue more over who’d take the back than who’d get to sit up front. A few times, Dean had to threaten to just drive off without you both until one of you broke and just took the front seat– almost always you, because damn if Sam doesn't have that Winchester stubbornness in him just as much as his brother.

Sam chuckles and Dean shakes his head. “Brother bonding time? What are we, twelve?”

You lean back in your seat and cross your arms, leaning your head against the window. Dean sees the tired look in your eyes and pulls the car over. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he gets out of the car, nodding at Sam to take his spot. Sam slides over to the drivers side and Dean gets in beside you.

“C’mere,” He says, patting his lap.

“Dean–”

“Shut up and lay down, would ya?”

You reluctantly comply, but it doesn’t take much convincing at all. You lay down on the seat as best as you can, rest your head on his thigh, and try to get comfortable. Sam starts the car and keeps on driving without a single objection. Dean’s hand finds its way to your hair as he runs his fingers through it in a gentle, soothing motion. You let out a sigh of content, and turn your head to place a quick kiss on his leg.

“Thanks…” you mutter.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart… See if you can get that beauty sleep now, alright?”