#johnxdean

[sussurranting]

Fic: Shake the Dust (1/3)

Suddenly all of their plans - all of the mad, hopeless, desperate scheming of the past year starts to feel like something real.

Thirteen months ago, John sold his soul to hell.

Dean and Sam are going to steal it back.

Part 11 in the Roads series, an AU where Dean is not a Winchester.

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6448129/chapters/14757235

[sussurranting]

Fic: Push, push

John sticks a loaded Ruger MKII in Dean’s hand and points at an empty beer bottle propped on a tree stump maybe 50 feet away.

"Hit the target."

"Seriously? Six days of lectures on gun safety and when it comes to actually firing a weapon that's all you got?"

Pre-series AU where Dean is not related to John or Sam. Dean goes through John’s version of basic training. John isn’t the only one keeping secrets. Part 9 in the Roads series.

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4980289

[nopiewinston]

Daddy's Blunt Little Instrument

This has been plaguing me all day and I don't even ship it...

John X Dean

Non-Con

Pretty much just feels

Always same shit, different town.

Dad hears about a weird occurrence. Dad drags the boys out of school. Dad drops them at some crappy motel. Dad disappears for a week because he heard of something new.

Dean takes care of Sammy. Dean cleans him up. Dean cooks for him. Dean waits up every night to keep them safe and maybe be awake for their dad when he finally shows.

Sam tries to be normal. But how normal can he be when he gets stuck researching 200 year old murders and old maps. Drinking coffee meant for international business partners, going to one day of school before moving on.

Same shit, different town.

The 5 o'clock news ended. Dean debated finding another channel that had 6 o'clock news.

"It won't be any different," he said to the cracked linoleum barely protecting the floor under his boots.  With deft fingers and closed eyes, he reassembled his pistol. It clicked together, well-oiled pieces slid past each other. Perfect. It was his and it never changed. It was his only grasp on normalcy, consistency, peace.

Dean laid it on the cloth covering the table. He rested his head in his dirty hands.

There was a knock on the door.

Sammy wasn't usually home this early. He would stay at the library until it closed, no matter what he found.

Sam knew the door was unlocked.

Dean grabbed his pistol as he stood.  He made as little noise as possible as he approached the door.

"Dean...it's me. Open the door." Dean sighed as his father's voice drifted through the door. He reached out for the doorknob, but it was already turning. His pistol was still at the ready.

John pushed into the room. His eyes were red and tired. His jaw blurred by a week of beard.

Dean's only thought, "fuck."

"What did I tell you about the door?" John was slurring his words. Dean backed away from him as John closed the door. His father continued forward, just his presence was enough to push Dean into the table.

John got closer, undoing his belt. Dean could smell the whiskey on him. At least he wouldn't have to worry about John getting drunk in front of Sammy; he would be passed out long before then. Dean placed his pistol on the table behind him.

John's belt fell to the floor. He flicked open the button on his jeans, pulled the zipper. Dean made himself stand a little taller.

"Get down...on your knees." Dean clenched his jaw. Not this time. This time had to be different.

"No." John's brow furrowed. His bleary eyes focused on his oldest son. The one with Mary's lips, Mary's smile.

His boy, a grown man now, staring into his eyes, chin high, shoulders square. John punched him in his jaw. Dean fell back against the table.

"You listen to me..." John, despite his pants being around his ankles, brought Dean to his knees in fear. John backhanded him and watched as Dean's resolve broke. His eyes glazed over. His jaw loosened. His shoulders sank.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Dean did his best to keep the tears out of his eyes, "I'll do better." John brushed his fingers through Dean's hair. He kept his eyes down as his father freed himself from his boxers.

"Just like your mom," he heard John say as Dean took him in his mouth.

Same shit, different town.

[wildflowers-inthemeadow]

daddycest fanfic rec: Like the Two of Us Both Needed

by Robomantic

one of the best (daddycest) fics I've ever read and definitely the most beautiful sex scene.

Summary: When Sammy left for Stanford all Dean and his dad had were each other.

Enjoy it here.

[wildflowers-inthemeadow]

daddycest fanfic recommendation: Rough Trade

This story actually managed to achieve two things. First, I fell in love with daddycest. Second: It was the best goddamn fanfic I've read in a while. It is absolutely beautifully written, gripping and overall, just perfect. I highly recommend it.

Rough Trade by john-n-dean

Pairing: John/Dean Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Consensual Daddycest Summary: When he met a guy named John in a bar, all Dean knew was the he reminded him of his Dad. Scarred, both mentally and physically, John obviously needed saving as much as he did. So when he gave the man his street name and suggested a 'mutually beneficial' relationship, he never dreamed that three weeks later he'd find out that John actually was his father.

read here 

PS: This wonderful author also has a Livejournal, where he or she publishes more of her daddycest fic: http://john-n-dean.livejournal.com/

[wheresyourmoose-blog]

[Supernatural AU → John & Dean;  Dean is a young mechanic and John is a frequent customer of his, that comes around for Dean's handy work and the mechanic himself.]

Sometimes, John will purposely break something on his beloved 1967 Chevrolet Impala just to get it fixed. Other times, breaks happen on their own or something falls off and he needs it replaced. Either way, he only goes to one place - Singer's Auto Shop - and he really only goes there for one reason (other than the whole, 'my car is broken, someone needs to fix it,' thing) -- the owner's son, Dean.

The first time John saw Dean, he was with his (now ex) wife, getting her little BMW fixed; the kid couldn't have been older than twenty and John couldn't take his eyes off of him. Since then, he's always brought his cars and mechanical problems to Dean -- not just cause the kid was pretty, but because he worked magic with those beautiful, long-fingered hands of his.

Now, John's standing at the rear of his Impala, hands in his pockets, breath hitching in his throat as he watches Dean, who's under the frame of the car. From where he's standing, John can see Dean's t-shirt ride up, exposing his stomach and he clears his throat, chuckling roughly.

"How's it going?" He asks, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.

Dean almost hits his head on the undercarriage of the Impala and he slides out, squinting as he looks up at John, smirking. He shrugs his shoulders and sits up, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans before standing, moving his hands up over his already-stained shirt.

"She's gonna make it," he replies in an amused voice, locking his eyes with John, the smirk fading into a soft smile. "How's it going for you? Is everything alright -- you don't want me to fix that, do you?" Dean nods pointedly to the GMC Sierra parked behind John, chuckling quietly.

Swallowing nervously, John shakes his head and laughs, wetting his lips absently, trying to keep his eyes on Dean's face instead of on his hands (which are curled around either of his hips). His eyes roam over Dean's dirty face and he chews on the edge of his lip, blinking a few times before he remembers that Dean spoke.

"Oh -- no, nothing's wrong. Just - had some time before going to work, wanted to see how my baby's doing." He pats the trunk of the Impala and keeps the other hand in his pocket, thumbing over the smooth metal. Dean laughs again and it makes John's entire body shudder; goosebumps prickle on his flesh and he swallows hard again, averting his eyes from Dean's.

"Well like I said," Dean starts, groaning as he rolls his neck back and forth, rolling his shoulders backwards as he does, "she's doing good. Might be here for another day, then she'll be good as new." He squints in the sun, his eyes locking on John's face, glancing at the salt-and-pepper stubble that laces his jaw.

"Good -- thanks, for doing this. I know I'm a bother," John replies with a laugh, swallowing as he looks at Dean, smiling.

Shrugging, Dean waves a hand dismissively and gives John a grin, flashing brilliant, white teeth. "S'not a problem, Mr. Winchester -- I don't mind working on this beautiful girl." 

"John."

"'Cuse me?" Dean asks, forehead furrowing.

"John -- call me John, not Mr. Winchester." John chuckles and pulls his hand away from the trunk, shoving it into his jacket pocket, smiling wide at Dean. The kid nods, gives John another cheeky grin and then scrunches his face up.

"Alright," he starts, his face smoothing out as he tilts it toward the skin, his eyes shining and the freckles that cover his nose and cheeks now extremely noticeable in the sunlight as he continues, "John."

Hearing the kid say his name makes John shudder and he swallows back a groan, nudging the toe of his boot against the gravel beneath his feet. A heat radiates from his cheeks, down his neck and eventually runs down his spine, causing him to make an involuntary noise.

"Alright, Dean," John sighs and gives the kid a grin, showing his dimples, "I'll come back by tomorrow and see how she's doin'." Dean nods at him, teeth worrying over his bottom lip and John swears he's looking at his dimples, which only makes him want the kid more.