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#Dean Winchester Fic
queen-of-deans-booty · 23 hours
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With Love From
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~800
Warnings: fluff
Request by anon: Hey can i request a Dean Winchester x wife reader that she spoiled and pampering him to much but she don’t cared and she love giving him love, attention, affection, and etc all things him always dreamed?. something cute and fluffy because him deserve all the love from the world. 
Summary: You take Dean on a much-needed vacation and give him everything he wants and deserves.
Square Filled: driving in the impala (2022) for @spndeanbingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
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“Got your pajamas?”
“Yes.”
“Toothbrush and toothpaste?”
“Yes.”
“What about your chargers? I put an extra one in your bag just in case.”
“What are you, my mom?” Dean jokes. “Yes, I have everything.”
“Okay, don’t come crying to me when you’ve forgotten something and ask to use my toothbrush. I won’t do it again.”
“That was one time.”
“One time too many. We’ve done a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but sharing a toothbrush is gonna be a no for me.”
“Yes, I have everything. Why are you bugging out? You’re never like this whenever we go on a hunt.”
Dean takes both yours and his bags to the library where Sam is. He has his laptop and plenty of books all around him. There is a case not far from here that he is reading up on since he is going to be the one to tackle this case.
“We’re not going on a hunt,” you reveal when he sets the bags on the table.
“What?”
“We’re not going on a hunt.”
“Sam’s been working like crazy about this case a few towns over.”
“Yeah because he’s going to be the one to take care of it. We’re not.”
“Sam, what is she talking about?” Dean asks.
“Dude, I am just as clueless as you,” he chuckles and closes his laptop. “All I know is that I’m doing this one solo.”
“If we’re not going on a hunt, where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“You know I hate surprises,” Dean practically whines.
“Well, you’re getting one today. No hunt. No monsters. Definitely alcohol. Does that sound like a great time?” you smile.
“Sounds like a Saturday to me.”
“Come on, we’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.” You see the look on Dean’s face and immediately shuts down what he is going to say next. “If Sam needs help, he can call Garth.”
“Yeah, go have fun. I got this,” Sam backs you up.
You and Dean pack up the Impala and say your goodbyes to Sam who barely waves you two off. Dean is always the driver unless otherwise preoccupied, so he gets behind the wheel even though he has no idea where he’s going. You’re going to be the navigator for this special trip, only telling him what turns to make right before he needs to do them.
“Shall I put on the special playlist?”
“Special playlist? What’s the occasion?”
“I love you. Is that enough?”
“More than enough,” he smiles.
His special playlist consists of songs he could listen to on repeat for hours. Sam doesn’t let him put the playlist on since Sam complains he needs to listen to more than just classic rock. He claims they all sound the same even though each has their own unique sound.
About halfway through the trip, you stopped to get food at Dean’s favorite diner. He often comes here while on hunts even if it’s hours out of the way. There’s something about the way they make their burgers that has his mouth watering every single time.
“Okay, tell me where we’re going,” Dean chuckles with his mouth full.
“I told you it’s a surprise,” you smile. “You’re going to love it.”
Dean has no choice but to trust you. Once you two get done eating, you get back on the road and tough out the last half of the trip. You took over driving for the last hour just so he wouldn’t be suspicious of where you two were going but as soon as Dean sees the town’s name, he gets so excited.
“Wait, we’re in Mt. Sterling?”
“Yeah.”
You drive to one of the best gun stores in America. They have such a high rating since people from all over the country come here just to buy guns. Dean has been wanting to come here for a long time, and you figure it’s time to bring him. Dean is practically bouncing in his seat when you park, and he jumps out of the car in excitement.
You watch him run into the store with a smile on your face, and you make sure the car is locked before following him inside. He is like a child loose in a candy store or a toy store. He is admiring all of the guns on display, holding them just to feel how they would fit in his hands.
“Pick any you want. I’ll get it for you.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah.”
“I love you so much,” he grins and kisses you.
Seeing him so happy brings you so much joy. He doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to be this happy. He doesn’t allow himself to be this happy most of the time, so taking time to give him this is very important. He channels his inner child and goes wild. He settled on another handgun that closely resembles the one he has now, but it has a silencer on the end of it which will make for easy hunting.
After he got all that excitement out, you two headed to the bar across the street to have a few rounds on you.
“How the hell did I ever get so lucky?” he smiles.
“I’m the lucky one, my love. You deserve all the love in the world.”
Dean leans in and kisses you, happy to be yours.
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mlmxreader · 1 day
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Can't Let Go | Dean Winchester x gn!reader
『••✎••』
↳ ❝ Dean Winchester with "Just close your eyes and go to sleep, I'll still be here" please ❞
: ̗̀➛ Dean loves you, but he can't let you go even though he knows he'll hurt you.
: ̗̀➛ swearing, mentions of violence
•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•
You were fucking exhausted as you opened the motel room door, throwing your bag down with a huff and kicking your shoes off before wriggling out of your ripped and dirty jeans and slinking underneath the thin duvet.
A sharp sigh coming from the back of your throat as you closed your eyes and wished the world would fall silent for once. 
You were wide awake when you heard Dean get out of the shower, and although you were too tired to stand upright, you managed to wave your hand lazily to show him that you were still awake.
You just wanted to sleep, after dealing with a werewolf that did not want to get caught, you felt like you had fallen flat on your face and couldn’t get up.
Dean didn’t even question it, he knew better than anyone in the world what that feeling was like, and he didn’t bother to get dressed as he got into the bed behind you, waiting for you to turn onto your side before he pulled you as close as he possibly could.
His arms settled limply on you, one underneath your body and one over your hip as he yawned softly and pressed his face to the back of your neck; he was glad that you had kept up your end of the bargain, at least.
The deal was to meet him at his motel room the second that you were finished with your hunt in exchange for him letting you borrow his shirt for the day after yours had been ripped and torn.
You wriggled around a little, pressing your ass against his groin as you sighed and drifted one hand to meet his, the other resting under your head as you finally closed your eyes; you were hardly concentrating on anything else except the feeling of his arms around you.
It seemed like you had not felt that for years, even though the last time you saw Dean was only two weeks ago; but as hunters, you were rarely afforded that kind of time together. 
You sighed again as you rolled onto your other side, your forehead smacking into his for a moment and making you both quietly laugh before he grumbled and fidgeted to get closer to you; it was physically impossible, but you both still tried desperately.
Seeking warmth and comfort as much as you could, especially given how cold it was inside and how the motel had no heating whatsoever.
“I never wanna deal with a werewolf again,” you muttered, halfway into a yawn.
Dean almost laughed as he buried his head against you, his hair tickling your chin. “I feel ya - that shapeshifter Sammy and I took down… eugh.”
You wanted to laugh, although your body would only allow you to produce a yawn as you raised your leg and dropped it over his hip. “‘M exhausted, can’t lie.”
He nodded, licking his lips as he hummed ever so softly. “I can tell - you haven’t even kissed me yet.”
“Maybe later,” you whispered, letting your hand drift to his hair and gently rake through it. “You smell good…”
“Motel soap,” he chuckled. “Best in the world at getting out goo.”
You smiled, shaking your head fondly as you fought against the urge to close your eyes. Dean could tell more than easily as he moved his hand, letting it flop down just above your hip. “Are you not cold?”
“Not really,” he mumbled. “But just close your eyes and go to sleep, I’ll still be here.”
“Would you-” a sharp and harsh yawn made its way through you, forcing your eyes to water and your mouth to ache slightly. “Would you mind singing to me? I know you don’t like it but… could you?”
Dean slowly nodded as his eyes drifted shut. “Home is a friendly space, home is a familiar face inside the door, all curled up on the bedroom floor. Home is where I find the bed, some place to lead my head to morning comes, singing here comes the sun. Does it matter where I go or what I do? I can’t lie, you know it’s true, it ain’t home without you. Some people spend their days, lost in a heartless haze out in the cold if I may be so bold, that life is not for me ‘cause every day I see a better way and I can surely say…”
As he trailed off, he pulled away slightly to look at you, and he smiled; you were sound asleep, your head tilted slightly and your eyes tightly shut. Your breathing was steady and even, and your body was limp to the touch.
He was glad, as he knew how little sleep you got - usually around the same that he did - and that you deserved it a lot more than he did; all the times he had fucked you around, cancelled plans and gone out hunting when he really shouldn’t have - he hardly deserved you. 
He had been loyal, of course he was, Dean was always so loyal to those he loved; but he knew that he was far from good enough to be with you. You were everything; you were smart and kind and brave and loyal, and he was just loyal.
Even though you tried to convince him a thousand times over that he was all of those things and more. You never got through to him.
Dean knew that you were too good for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to let you go; you loved him so much, he knew that, just as he knew that you would always be loyal to him.
He couldn’t let you go, even though he knew that he would only hurt you in the end; he knew he would hurt you, but he wouldn’t - couldn’t - allow you to let go. 
So he snuggled down, pressing his lips to your throat as he closed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh, hoping to get some sleep before the morning when you left. 
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deans-queen · 3 days
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Friends With Benefits 🖤
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N) 
Summary: Reader (Y/N) goes through a breakup and is feeling vulnerable so her FWB, Dean Winchester cheers her up in the best way. 
Inspired song: Get Mine, Get Yours by Christina Aguilera 
Bold Text: Song lyrics
Warnings: SMUT, p in v (wrap it up kids), oral (male receiving), mature and sexual language.
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Reader (Y/N’s) P.O.V 
“No Gabe, I can’t do this anymore..” you said on the phone. 
You were having yet another fight with this guy you were currently seeing. It really wasn’t an exclusive relationship but you still had feelings for him. But over the past week, there’s been nothing but fighting, the situation was toxic and it was  a waste of energy. 
“No, I don’t want to work this out anymore, we’ve tried and nothing has changed. I’m sorry but it’s over, goodbye.” 
You hung up the phone and placed it on the coffee table in front of you. 
“What a jerk….” You muttered to yourself. 
You placed your face in your hands and began to take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. 
You picked your phone back up again and deleted his number from your contact list. After that, you went through your contacts again hoping to call your friends to help cheer you up. 
Then you came across a contact name that you recognized: 
Dean Winchester….. your friend with benefits. That green eyed, hot as fuck, bad boy hunter. How could I forget him? He’s so perfect…. You thought to yourself. 
The line began to ring and he picked up right away. 
“Hello?” His deep masculine voice said.
“Dean, it’s (Y/N). I know this is so random but are you busy right now?”
“No, Sam and I just finished up a case…actually near where you live. Why what’s up?”
“Well, um, remember when we became friends with benefits and you said we can call each other whenever we needed to hook up?” 
“Yeah?”
“Well I’m feeling very lonely and vulnerable right now….and I need you Dean. Desperately.” 
“Say no more, sweetheart I’m on my way.” 
An Hour Later…. 
Before Dean arrived, you decided to freshen up. You touched up your hair and make up just a tad, and put on some sexy lingerie, with a silk robe to cover it up. 
Knock Knock. 
You raced to get the door, and there he was standing before you. Just as handsome as ever. 
He was wearing a dark green jacket (which complimented his eyes perfectly) with a black T-shirt underneath. And his regular jeans with boots. 
“Well hello there handsome.” You said in a seductive voice
“What’s cookin 'good lookin?” He said as he winked at me. 
You began to bite your lips as you pulled him in aggressively by the collar of his shirt and smashed your lips on his. He immediately responded by melting into the kiss. His hands went around your waistline and began to grab your ass. 
Can you put your hands on my waistline?
Want your skin up against mine
Move my hips to the baseline
Let me get mine, you get yours
Smack. A red mark was left on your ass.
“Oh Dean, you are a very naughty boy.” You moaned softly to him. 
He looked at you grinning like a seductive devil, only wanting you more. 
He untied the silk robe from your body and let it pool by your feet. His eyes grew wide as he looked at your lingerie set, running them up and down your body.
It was a black lacy corset bra, with a thong to match, and some black stockings that went up to your thighs, and straps that linked up to them.  
You took his hand and led him to your room. 
You laid down on the bed and Dean crawled on top of you. 
He began kissing your neck, leaving love marks along it, he took a hand and started playing with your boobs. He pulled down your corset bra, exposing your breasts. Your nipples were hard already and Dean could tell. 
He sucked and flicked lightly on each nipple, causing you to moan in pleasure.
“Mmmmm, Dean…..” 
“Your tits are so perfect baby.” He groped each one, massaging them softly. 
You reached down at the hem of his shirt pulling it up off of him. You admired his strong chest and abs, you also noticed the pentagram tattoo and planted a kiss on it. 
You reached for the belt on his pants, undoing it and pushing them down revealing his boxers. 
He pushed them down and his thick cock sprang free, it was so big. Just like you remembered. 
“Lay back Dean, I need to taste you.” 
He did as he was told and you took a hold of his cock. Gliding your tongue along the slit licking the pre-cum that came out of him. 
“Oh fuck, that feels so good.” 
“Well it’s about to get even better.” You  teased, and you took all of him in your mouth and began sucking him like a lollipop. 
He groaned and moaned in pleasure, his cock twitching in your mouth. He grabbed a fist full of your hair, and yanked it as your head bobbed up and down.
“You’re so good for me, taking me all in your mouth like that baby.” He said in a husky voice. “Use that pretty little mouth.” Groaning his head back in pleasure.
You kept going sucking and groping faster and faster until he cummed in your mouth.
“Oh fuck, baby….” He breathed heavily. You swallowed every last drop of him, and he wiped some of it off your chin with his thumb, planting a kiss on your forehead. 
“That’s my good girl, now lay down for me, and take those panties off….I need to be inside of you.”
Put my back into a slow grind
Sending chills up and down my spine
Let me get mine, you get yours
You did as you were told and spread your legs open, and he admired your glistening pussy. 
He teased you a bit, going in and out at first rubbing the tip on your clit, “Dean, please don’t tease me.” 
He then pushed hard inside of your walls, hitting your g-spot with ease.
“I almost forgot how tight you are baby. Your pussy is so perfect.”
“You feel so fucking good Dean, keep going don't you dare stop.” 
He continued to grind against you, moans filled the room and you didn't care how loud you were. You dug your nails into his back, leaving marks, you clung onto him like he was your lifeline. His strong hands gripped your waist tight as he thrusted in and out of you. Your legs were getting weak, you could feel the moment come to you.
“I’m so close, ohh my god!”
“Me too, where do you want me to cum baby?”
“Inside me please, Dean. Fill up this tight little pussy."  
"Yes, ma'am." He said while growling.
And he did, as he pulled out he looked down at the glistening liquid that was coming out of your pussy. He bent down and sucked up all of your juices, as you moaned back in pleasure. 
He laid down next to you, as he took you in his arms.
"Wow, Dean that was so amazing, I need to call you more often." You said winking at him.
"I'll be honored to help you out sweetheart." He said as he smirked seductively.
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Authors Note:
Hope you enjoyed this story!
Feel free to let me know what you think!
Like & follow for more !! Xoxo
P.S. I wrote the smut parts by myself let me know how I did 😜
Check out my other stories!
Master list 📝
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thatonewriter15 · 18 hours
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Concern
Relationship: Dean Winchester/Reader; Dean Winchester/Original Female Character
Rating: Teen and up
Word Count: 632
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Reader, Fluff
Summary: Maybe she can hide her feelings for Dean, but she can't hide her (mild) injury from him.
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wildgirllz · 11 months
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Your camera roll if you hunted with Sam and Dean.
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Too Many Beds
main masterlist | supernatural masterlist 
summary: you want nothing more than an excuse to sleep next to dean again
pairing: (pre-s1/s1) dean winchester x female reader
rating: R for language
word count: 2.1k 
warnings: none really, language, bed sharing, kissing, mutual pining, idiots in love, brief mention of the death of reader’s dad
timeline: starts slightly before season one, ends near the beginning of season one
author’s note: a spin on the classic 'just one bed, what ever shall we do?' trope lol
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You’d known Dean all your life, practically. You met him when you were six and he was eight; two lonely little kids stuck with absent (job-driven) fathers and baby brothers you felt responsible for. Over the course of the last eighteen-or-so years you ran into the Winchesters during hunts enough that you considered them family. 
When Sam left for college you were there for Dean and when you lost your dad in a hunting accident Dean was there for you. He actually stayed with you, not wanting you to hunt alone since your brother was off at college too.
So, for the last six months you’d been hunting with Dean (who hadn’t spoken to Sam for over a year).
“One room, two queens,” Dean said to the woman behind the counter, placing “his” credit card on the space between them before sliding it toward her.
“We’re all booked up I’m afraid,” she said.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I was actually about to turn on the no vacancy sign.”
“This is the third motel we’ve been to,” you said, “every one of them has been full—you’ve gotta have something!”
“I mean, there’s technically one room left but the heater’s out and my boss said not to let anyone sleep there because of that.”
There was a silent pause; you and Dean shared a knowing look.
“We’ll pay in cash, your boss ‘ll never know,” you told the woman. She smiled and nodded as you paid her with cash. 
“Room 209, my boss gets here at ten tomorrow morning so please leave before then.” She handed you the key and you nodded in thanks.
You had underestimated just how cold the room could be, but when you unlocked and opened the door you understood why the owner didn’t want anyone staying here.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled, following you into the room and feeling the cold air. “We’re gonna freeze our asses off in here!” he quickly closed the door behind him, hoping the icy air hadn’t swept any snow into the room.
“It’s either this or we sleep in the Impala,” you shrugged, “and, no offense to your car, but it’s fuckin’ uncomfortable to sleep in.”
“And there’s only one bed,” Dean sighed.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you told him, ignoring his complaints. 
**
“Are you shivering or crying?” Dean asked.
You rolled over so you could meet his stare; “Shivering! It’s fuckin’ cold in here!”
“You wanna…cuddle up, maybe?” he asked hesitantly.
“Excuse me?” you laughed a little.
“Look, I’m not thrilled about it either, but it’s cold in here and unless we both wanna catch fucking pneumonia we better be smart and share body heat.”
You sighed, weighing your options; “Fine. But we never, and I mean never speak of this again, you hear me?”
“Understood.” He nodded.
You rolled back over as he scooted closer to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.
“This okay?” he asked quietly, his lips ghosting the back of your head.
“Yeah,” you mumbled back. “Thank you, Dean.”
**
You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring loudly. You were used to his snores, sure, but he’d never been this close. He was laying on his stomach and resting on your chest; his mouth open and his hair tickling your neck. Your first reaction was annoyance but then it quickly washed away as you realized you didn’t want to move a muscle, so Dean could continue sleeping. 
And the more you laid there, listening to his snores, the more you realized how comfortable you were…even in such a physically uncomfortable situation. 
As the time passed and the sun began to rise, you cursed the light that was slowly but surely peeking through the curtain and onto Dean’s face. 
“Morning,” he mumbled to you as he lifted his head up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand before wiping his mouth. “Sorry,” he chuckled, noticing the small spot on your gray sweater dampened with his drool.
“It’s okay,” you mumbled back. “I think it’s your sweater anyway.”
“I thought it looked familiar.”
He rolled off of you and out of bed. 
You watched as he padded across the dirty carpet and over to the small kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and the loud, off putting grinding noise made his face scrunch before he quickly shut off the (definitely broken) machine.
“So much for coffee,” he grumbled. “You gonna sit there all morning or you wanna get outta here? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
“I’m getting up,” you replied. You would usually be annoyed at him for rushing you to wake up, but this time the annoyance was…different. Something about his bedhead, the way his lips were pouting over the lack of caffeine, and how he looked in his brown Henley and baggy sweats just made you wanna hold him again. All you wanted was to pull him back into bed with you and hold him in your arms forever.
**
You were beyond frustrated at this point. How many stupid fucking hotels had to have vacant rooms with two beds and a functional heating system!? 
It had been nearly six months since you and Dean shared a bed and you had been looking for an excuse to sleep next to him ever since. 
But the last couple weeks had been different—Sammy was back. Yes, you loved Sam like a brother, but you missed getting to be alone with Dean. You missed sitting shotgun in the Impala and watching him drive.
Sam definitely noticed the way you looked at Dean, but the younger Winchester didn’t say a word. Without being too obvious about it, he tried to do little things that would let you be close to his brother. He’d sit in a certain chair or part of the couch so that you and Dean had no choice but to sit together. Or he’d make some lame excuse so that he got his own room while you and Dean had to share. “I need to do some more research and I need the light, why don’t you two just sleep in the other room?” for example. 
**
“Two rooms, please,” Dean said, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet.
“Unfortunately we’ve only got one room left,” the cashier replied. 
You almost couldn’t believe your ears, fucking finally!
“Oh, that’s too bad,” you faked your best frustrated look, of course Sam saw right through that.
“Well, I am not sharing with either or you,” he said with a teasing smile. 
“There’s actually a pullout couch in that room, as luck would have it,” the cashier informed the three of you. 
God fucking damn it, you thought to yourself.
**
It was barely after two when you felt the bed behind you dip, and you shook yourself awake. 
“The hell?” you asked, still half asleep.
“The pullout couch isn’t working,” Dean mumbled quietly. “You mind sharing with me?”
You smiled a little and scooted closer into his arms, indicating you were okay with him sleeping next to you.
“Of course I don’t mind sharing with you,” you whispered and his grip tightened.
**
“I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Sam announced. “I’m assuming you want your usual?”
Dean put his right pointer finger to his lips and furrowed his brows angrily. He gestured to you as you slept and Sam got the message. 
“Usual is good,” Dean whispered before Sam left.
Dean stayed laying perfectly still as you slept on his chest, soft snores escaping your lips and to Dean they were the sweetest sound. 
As you stirred awake slowly, he rubbed your back a little.
“Morning,” you mumbled, a small smile on your lips. “Where’s Sam?”
“He went to grab breakfast,” Dean told you. 
You furrowed your brows as you sat up, looked across the room, and realized something; “The pullout bed looks fine? I thought you said it wasn’t working?” You turned back to Dean, who had a sheepish grin growing on his lips.
“So…maybe I’ve just been looking for an excuse to sleep next to you again. Like we did back in that motel when the heat was out.”
“Really?” You attempted to hide the smile trying to find its way onto your face. 
“When we were checking in last night I noticed how your face lit up when they said there was only one room left,” Dean admitted. “And I saw that disappointed look you made when they said there was a pullout couch. So, am I wrong, or have you been wanting an excuse too?”
“I really liked sleeping next to you that night,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “And you’re right, I have been hoping for another ‘oh no just one bed, guess we’ll have to share’ situation but…”
“But what?” Dean asked when you trailed off. You looked down at him. 
“Dean, you and Sam have been like my brothers for as long as I can remember. I mean, Bobby practically raised all three of us and my actual brother as siblings! Your dad and my dad knew each other basically forever and I guess…I guess I figured our lives are too entangled for anything to ever actually happen between us. We’re family.”
“Chosen family, Y/n.” Dean smiled softly. “Doesn’t mean you have to be my chosen sister, you could be my chosen…you know…” 
You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his full lips. 
“That,” Dean finished his previous statement. 
“Let’s just keep this between us for now, okay?” you suggested. “If Sam finds out, then your dad will find out, and he’ll immediately tell my brother, then before we know it Bobby—”
“I get the picture, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled before kissing you again. He put his hands on your cheeks as he sat up. He pulled you onto his lap, your legs now straddling his hips. His hands moved to your shoulders then trailed down to your lower back as yours went into his hair. You pulled away from him after a moment, huge smiles on both your faces.
You looked into his eyes, his truly beautiful eyes, and you bit your bottom lip ever so slightly. Your right hand rested on his left cheek, your thumb stroking his skin lovingly. 
“You’re awesome, Dean Winchester,” you whispered. 
“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he replied before he kissed you again. “And gorgeous, too,” he added. “You know how fuckin’ annoying it’s been, sleeping without you every night since that one time?”
“I do know, Dean, I’ve been just as annoyed about it.”
Dean kissed you one more time before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, tucking his head into your neck. You wrapped your arms around him too, pressing your lips to his temple.
You pulled out of the hug so you could once again look at his face. Resting your forehead on his, you smiled before you kissed him again. 
“Breakfast,” Sam called out as he opened the door, “is served!”
You and Dean froze for a split second before you hurried off of him.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, “did I interrupt you two?”
“What?” you scoffed. “Of course not!”
“Interrupt? There’s nothing to interrupt?” Dean added.
“Oh…wow you two are fast,” Sam mumbled, shaking his head as he made his way to the kitchen before putting the food down. “Well, pancakes, eggs, and bacon from the continental breakfast.” He gestured to the food now on the table. “Hope you’re hungry.”
As Sam sat down to eat, you looked at Dean anxiously. Say something you begged him with your eyes.
“Sammy,” Dean started as he got out of bed, “would you mind uh…not telling dad? About me and Y/n…kissing just now? When we find him, I mean.”
“Dad’s never really been invested in your love life, but he’s not an idiot,” Sam laughed. 
“So…you are gonna tell him?” Dean furrowed his brows in frustration.
“Dean, he knows you two are together, it’s not some big secret?” Sam replied, shoveling more food into his mouth. “Damn that’s good.”
“Okay, just hold on—what?” Dean asked. “What do you mean dad knows? There’s been nothing to know since like four minutes ago?”
“Wait,” Sam stopped eating and fully turned to face you and his brother, “are you trying to tell me this is the first time you two have kissed?” Sam furrowed his brows deeply as you and Dean both nodded. “So…never in high school?” You shook your heads again. “That prom we crashed?”
“Sam you were there the whole time? When would we have kissed?” you asked.
“Huh,” Sam let out a laugh. “I genuinely thought you two had been a thing since like… ‘98.”
“What!?” you and Dean exclaimed in unison.
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wildwestdean · 2 months
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summary: a spell goes wrong and ends up with you and sam switching bodies. neither of you tell dean, which ends up being the greatest decision you ever made
pairing: dean winchester x witch!reader; best friend!sam winchester x witch!reader (platonic, obvs)
word count: 6.3k+
warnings: swearing, mentions of magic use, misunderstandings, miscommunication, angst, secrets, accidental love confessions, awkward idiots, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, cliches, minor use of [y/n], (female pronouns/descriptors used)
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“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam grunted under his breath, continuing to powder the contents of your mortar with more force than necessary. “If Dean finds out about this-”
“Dean asked me to do this,” you defended, eyes skimming over the page in front of you before looking up at him. “Okay, maybe not verbatim, but he asked!” you added upon seeing the look on Sam’s face. 
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure he did,” he replied sarcastically, slamming the pestle down with enough force to make you flinch. 
“Would you be fucking careful!” you hissed, glaring at him. “That thing isn’t indestructible and it’s important to me, it was a gift-” 
“From Dean,” he finished for you. “I know. Sorry,” he added, and even though his tone was sincere, you just knew he rolled his eyes anyway; and you chucked the closest thing you could grab at his back in retaliation. 
“Dick,” you muttered, going back to reading the passage before you. 
It wasn’t often that you used your powers - more so when it came down to a last resort option - and when Dean first discovered that you had magic, it wasn’t intentional. The two of you were on a hunt together, and it was - of course - not going to plan. You were on the brink of consciousness, having no choice but to watch defenselessly as Dean became outnumbered by Vamps. The spell came out of nowhere, nothing more than a primal instinct to protect him, and before anyone knew what was happening, the two of you were left alone with nothing but piles of ash where the monsters once stood. Dean first thought that Rowena had somehow stumbled upon them to save the day once more, though once he realized the spell came from you, he damn near lost his mind. You would have rather he yelled at you, smashed things around, anything compared to what he did. Once he made sure you were okay and had you checked out, he simply acted as if you didn’t exist; you were completely frozen out of his life. He never needed to say anything, you could see it in his eyes every time he glanced at you: How could you be a witch? He hated witches, and you knew that- it’s half the reason you never told him in the first place. He only started coming around with Sam’s convincing- and even then, it took an incredibly long time for him to trust you again. Then, one day, he came to realize that no matter what happened, he could never hate you. So, he came to you with an open mind and a peace offering- the exact mortar and pestle you had once told Sam that you wanted, because it reminded you of your mother’s- and the two of you worked on putting the pieces of your friendship back together. 
“Ass,” Sam retorted, turning and walking over to you with the freshly crushed ingredients. 
“You know,” you started, taking it from his hands. “You can’t really be against this all that much, otherwise you wouldn’t be here helping.”
“I’m only here so you don’t get yourself killed.”
“Oh, come on,” you urged with a chuckle. “You love doing this, and you know it.”
He gave you a sarcastic smile before taking the book from you. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Fine,” you huffed, snatching the book right back. 
With one final glare at each other, you started the spell. Everything was going well… until it wasn’t. 
You aren’t exactly sure where it went wrong. You don’t know if it was the ingredients, the way you said the spell, or just a mixture of everything, but before you even knew what was happening the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow and sent both you and Sam flying. 
“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “What the fuck?” you wondered aloud, feeling strange beyond comprehension. 
“What the hell happened?” Sam croaked out.
“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”
“I don’t know. Something feels wrong,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized why you felt so different. “Sam?” you asked meekly.
“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up. “Wait-” 
“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; were they even your hands? 
“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; your body? 
“You’re me!” you exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you. 
“You’re me!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.
You followed suit, using the wall behind you to help you stand. “God, how do you live like this?”
“Me? What about you? I won’t even be able to reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen!” he countered, flailing his arms around. 
“At least you’ll be able to fit on your bed! My feet are gonna dangle!” you huffed, folding your arms over yourself. 
“You need to fix this,” Sam declared, stepping towards you. You couldn’t help but take a few steps away- this was way too weird. You’ve seen shifters take your image before, but this was actually you. Only it wasn’t you. You felt like your head was about to explode. 
“Gee, you think, Sam?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “I thought we’d just stay like this forever!” 
He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door swinging open. You both flinched, turning to see Dean peering into the room. 
“What the fuck’s with all the yelling?” he asked, glancing around. “The hell is going on?” 
“I- uh-” you tried to answer, but nothing came to mind. 
“Just, uh…. experimenting,” Sam supplied, and you sent him a glare. 
“Experimenting?” Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows at you- or rather, at whom he thought was you. 
“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug, not sure what else to say. The two of you shared a look, silently agreeing not to breathe a word of what was really going on. 
Dean’s face softened, and he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually doing that spell. Sweetheart, we can get by without it.” 
“We don’t-” you started to argue, before Sam interrupted you with a clearing of his throat. 
Right. Dean wasn’t exactly talking to you right now. 
“Thought it was a good opportunity to practice,” Sam replied, sounding more like he was asking than telling. 
“Right,” Dean said, eyeing your body wearily. 
Oh, god. He was gonna pick up on something being wrong, it was only a matter of time. 
“You can leave any time now,” you spoke up, more irritated than you meant to sound, but you were severely on edge.
Dean turned to you with a look of surprise. “‘Scuse me?”
“I just- you know, we’re in the middle of something,” you continued, doing your best to stand your ground. 
“Yeah, I can see that,” he quipped, taking a step towards you. “What the hell were you thinking? Why are you letting her mess around with this stuff? Better yet, why are you helping her mess around with this stuff?” 
“It’s just a simple spell,” you argued, your head swirling with the fact that you were looking down on him, instead of being dwarfed by his frame like you normally would be. 
“A simple spell?” he repeated, fury and irritation dancing in his eyes. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”  
“Last I checked we could make our own decisions, Dean!” you exclaimed, glaring at him. 
“Sure,” he placated with a nod. “So long as they’re not stupid ass decisions!” 
“Can we go ten minutes in this place without a fight happening?” Sam pitched in, already exasperated with the situation. 
“Yeah, sure,” Dean grumbled, glaring at you. “Food’s ready.”
“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Sam announced, earning a glare from you in return. 
“Don’t you think we should finish-” you tried to ask, but were quickly cut off by Dean. 
“No, you guys are done in here,” he declared, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”
“Dean-” you tried once more, only to be cut off again. 
“Sam,” Dean warned. “I’m not kidding. Whatever you two were doing, it’s done.”
“Fine. We’ll be out in a few minutes,” you relented, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “We need to clean up!” you added upon seeing the look on Dean’s face. 
“Five minutes,” Dean agreed pointedly. “Or I swear, I’ll drag both your asses out of this room.” 
“Yeah, five minutes, got it,” you huffed, watching him as he hesitantly left the room. 
You waited a few moments before hastily making your way over and all but slamming the door, turning to look at Sam with wide eyes. 
“We are so screwed,” he declared, matching your expression. 
“What are we supposed to do? He’s gonna figure out something’s wrong!” you exclaimed, slumping against the door behind you. 
“We just…. I don’t know, pretend?” Sam suggested with a shrug. 
“Pretend?” you repeated incredulously. “Sam, this is insane! We can’t just pretend to be each other!” 
“It’s not like I meant permanently!” he defended, holding out his hands in surrender. “But until we can find a way to fix this, we have to at least play the part in front of Dean.” 
“Fine,” you agreed with a huff. “But I am not going on your crack of dawn jogs.” 
“Oh, come on-” he started to argue, though quickly stopped when met with your glare. “Yeah, okay, that- that’s fine.” 
“Great. Now let’s go before Dean gets even more pissy,” you declared, opening the door with a flourish. 
With a quick nod, he followed you down the hall, the two of you lowly bickering about the situation all the way to the kitchen. 
“I feel like a baby giraffe with this fucking body.”
“You look like a baby giraffe, do you not know how to walk?” 
“Yeah, I know how to walk! I know how to walk with normal legs!”
“Normal? You’re short enough to get in anywhere with a child’s pass!” 
“Keep up with the attitude, Sam. Maybe I’ll go have a really nice salon visit and cut all this hair!” 
“Fine, then maybe I’ll call up that guy from your ‘worst date ever’ and ask to catch up!”
“Fine by me. You’ll be the one he’ll be groping and hitting on the whole time.” 
“Yeah- well-... look, just don’t cut my hair!” 
“What are you two all hush hush about?” Dean asked curiously, eyeing you both as you entered the kitchen. 
“Nothing,” you both quickly replied, taking a seat at the table. 
Dean stared at you both for a moment before nodding curtly. “If you say so.” 
Choosing not to reply, you both quietly watched as he joined the table, taking his regular seat next to you. Which, of course, meant he was currently next to Sam, and you watched in amusement as he shifted nervously while Dean got too close for his comfort. 
Attempting to stifle a laugh, you took a bite of the burger that was placed in front of you, only to grimace in response. “What is this?” you asked through a mouthful, meeting Dean’s confused gaze. 
“It’s… the same veggie burger you force me to make you every time I make burgers?” he replied, looking at you as though you lost your head. 
Fucking Sam, you thought bitterly. “Oh, right. Right, it just- it tastes different, I don’t know,” you stammered, sparing a quick glance across at Sam as you hurriedly took another bite. 
“You two are weirder than usual tonight,” Dean muttered to himself before eating his own food. 
The three of you ate in stifling silence, you and Sam both internally trying to find a way out of this mess, before Dean spoke up again and pulled you from your revere. 
“[Y/N], do you want just the usual from the store? I was gonna make a run before our movie night,” he said, turning to look beside him with a soft grin. 
You felt your stomach drop as Sam cleared his throat, looking between you and Dean for a moment. “Movie night?” 
“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. “Like we have every Friday?” 
“Oh, right!” Sam exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t realize what day it is, I, uh- I’m actually not… feeling too hot, do you mind if we skip it tonight?” 
“You wanna skip it?” Dean asked quietly, making your heart shatter as you watched the hurt and disappointment flash across his face.
After the two of you made up from your falling out, you started a tradition of spending extra quality time together at least once a week. This resulted in having a movie night every Friday, no matter what. Whether that meant catching a random movie on a motel tv or settling into the Dean Cave, you both always found a way to make it. Knowing you had no choice but to skip out this time almost made you want to tell him what happened right then and there; but you didn’t. 
“Yeah, I just… I think it’s best if I just head to bed, you know? I’d hate for it to get worse,” Sam said sheepishly, playing with the glass in front of him as he met Dean’s gaze halfheartedly. 
You were glad that if you had to mistakenly swap bodies with someone, it was Sam. Given that he became your best friend from just about the moment you met, he had your behaviour down pat; you just hoped you could do the same and make this all a little easier. 
“Well what do you mean, what’s wrong?” Dean asked worriedly.
“I’m just feeling run down is all,” Sam said, shrugging lightly as he stood up, taking his dishes to the sink. “Maybe we can watch something tomorrow,” he added, turning back to Dean with a shy smile. 
“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed softly, averting his gaze to the beer in his hands. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.” 
“Sure. Uh, goodnight, guys,” Sam replied awkwardly, shooting you a pointed look before leaving. 
You stayed in uncomfortable silence for a moment, studying Dean as he pouted at his bottle. 
“You alright?” you asked tentatively. 
“Yeah, just… first time she’s bailed on me,” he replied indifferently, downing the rest of his beer before heading to get another one. 
“She didn’t bail on you,” you argued firmly. “It’s not like she chose to go bar hopping or something, she’s sick.” 
“Didn’t seem so sick when she was huddled up with you,” Dean said curtly, leaning against the counter as he sent you a cold stare. 
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked confusedly, shifting in your seat to look at him better. 
He remained silent, lips pursed as he studied you for what felt like hours, before he finally shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.” 
“Then why say it?” you asked in irritation. 
He remained silent once more, simply raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip before standing upright. “Night, Sammy.” 
“Dean-” you tried to press, but he only ignored you as he continued across the floor, leaving the kitchen without saying another word. 
You sighed in exasperation, quickly cleaning everything up before heading to your room, catching almost no sleep as you dove deep into researching for a reversal to your mistake.
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“You need to shave,” Sam said, staring at you from across the table. 
“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the declaration. 
“Your beard - my beard. You need to shave it,” he clarified. “It’s been over a week.”
“And?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I doubt you’re taking care of all my housekeeping.” 
“That’s because I’m doing everything possible to not look at you! Like you asked!” he hissed in return. 
You rolled your eyes in response, returning your attention to the book in front of you. “I have more important things on my mind than shaving your stupid facial hair - which looks fine, by the way.” 
Sam huffed, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, well you can at least take five minutes for me!”
“I don’t even know how to shave a beard, Sam!” you argued, closing the book in exasperation. 
“Then just let me shave it for you!” he begged, leaning over the table. “I’m serious, [Y/N], you can’t just leave me all unkempt.” 
You met his gaze and sighed softly. “Damn, you can even pull off the puppy dog eyes with my face. That’s a talent, Sammy.” 
He couldn’t help but laugh, for what felt like the first time since this whole thing happened. “You can do it better than I can,” he chuckled. “At least when it comes to Dean,” he added with a smirk. 
“What does that mean?” you asked curiously. 
“Nothing,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get you- me- whatever, all taken care of before Dean gets back with dinner.” 
“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed, getting up to follow him.
Before you knew it, you were standing in front of him as he sat on the bathroom counter, because: “How else are we supposed to do this? These arms aren’t gonna reach that face comfortably without some help.”
You fell into a comfortable silence as he did what he needed to do, the only words spoken being his occasional nagging for you to quit moving, as you were both lost in your own thoughts about the last few days.
“I’m really sorry, Sammy,” you said suddenly. You weren’t sure whether your voice was so quiet due to the shame you felt, or for the fear of breaking the silence that surrounded you. 
“It’s not your fault,” he said simply, reflexively. 
You sighed, gently shaking your head; which earned another scolding glare from him as he steadied you. “It’s entirely my fault. I fucked up big time, and we both know it.” 
“Look, it was an accident,” he urged, wiping away the remnants of the shave one last time. “Assigning blame isn’t going to change anything.” 
“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be furious! I practically ruined your life,” you pressed on frantically. 
“Okay, that’s being dramatic,” he chided. “Yeah, this isn't an ideal situation. Though weirdly, it’s also not the weirdest situation I’ve been in. And you know what? It’s not even the first time I’ve been in this situation! Remember when that kid switched bodies with me? Trust me, you’re a much better person to be switched with.” 
“Yeah, I remember,” you said, chuckling softly. “Still, I’m really sorry.” 
“I know you are,” he said softly. “I also know you’ll find a way to fix this.” 
“You really believe that?” you asked hesitantly. 
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “‘Cause it’s you, and I’ll always have faith in you. You didn’t mean for this to happen, [Y/N]. It’s okay.” 
“No, it-” you started to argue, but he cut you off. 
“Stop,” he urged softly. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Maybe I was at first, but I’m not anymore.” 
“Promise?” you asked meekly. 
“I promise,” he said firmly.
“Okay,” you relented, not fully believing him but not wanting to push the topic any further. 
“Okay,” he repeated, gently wiping away one of your stray tears. 
“Maybe we should just tell Dean,” you suggested hesitantly. 
“Tell me what?” Dean’s voice suddenly cut through the room.
The two of you jumped, and you moved away from the counter as calmly as you could, knowing how the predicament you were in must look to him.
You turned to the doorway and came face to face with Dean staring intently at the two of you, his mind working into an overdrive as he tried to make sense of the scene he just walked in on. 
“Dean, I- when did you get back?” you asked nervously. 
“Tell me what?” he asked again, ignoring your question. 
You and Sam were both at a loss. You spent so much time trying to figure this whole thing out, yet neither of you thought to come up with some kind of story should you be cornered like this. 
“[Y/N]?” Dean asked softly, looking over to where he thought you sat on the counter. 
The look of hurt and confusion that flashed over his face and the waver in his voice all but sent a fresh wave of tears washing over you. 
Dean waited impatiently a few moments before shaking his head with a scoff. “Whatever, food’s in the kitchen.”
Before anyone could say anything else, he turned on his heel and left, leaving you and Sam stunned in his wake. 
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The dynamic between the three of you began shifting even more ever since that night, and you could feel Dean slipping further and further away from you with each passing day. 
You noticed it every time Dean would catch you and Sam huddled up and whispering low; when he would stand and stare before leaving with a quiet grumble of forgetting why he was there. 
You noticed it when he started spending more time in his room or tinkering with Baby in the garage; finding any and every excuse possible to spend time outside of the bunker and away from you and Sam. 
You and Sam tried to ignore it, promised yourselves that you’d explain everything once you managed to set things right - or, if you discovered you were over your heads and couldn’t fix everything. 
The thing you hated most about this whole thing was that it was becoming easier and easier to lie to Dean; and the worst part about that was not knowing whether you and Sam really became more convincing, or if Dean just didn’t care enough to question you anymore. 
Which is exactly why you found yourself sitting in the war room, waiting for Dean to make his way through to the kitchen, in order to try and talk things out. 
You weren’t expecting him to appear with one duffle bag over his shoulder and another by his side - and he wasn’t expecting to see you, either. 
“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he declared after a moment of hesitation, continuing on his path to the stairs. 
“Where the hell are you going?” you asked hotly, standing from your seat. 
Dean sighed, throwing his head back in frustration as he considered his response. “Donna’s cabin.” 
“What? Why?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together with confusion. 
“I can’t do it anymore,” he said tiredly. “I just can’t, okay?” 
“Do what?” you asked wearily, taking a tentative step towards him. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you pressed, feeling your chest tighten with the rising nerves and fear.
“Don’t do that,” he demanded, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You think I don’t know what’s been going on around here?” 
“What-... what’s been going on?” you asked curiously. “The hell are you talking about?”
You weren’t sure if or when he figured out what happened, and you also weren’t sure why it would make him feel the need to leave. 
“I’m talking about you and [Y/N]!” he shouted, throwing his bags down and stepping towards you. 
“Me and [Y/N]?” you wondered, taking a nervous step backwards. 
“I’m not an idiot, okay?” he spat, his jaw ticking. “You think I haven’t noticed? Think I couldn’t figure it out?” 
“Okay, look,” you began, holding out your hands defensively. “I can explain.” 
Dean let out a humourless laugh, running a hand over his mouth before glaring at you once more. “Explain,” he echoed with a chuckle of disbelief. “Don’t waste your breath.”
“Why are you so pissed off about this?” you asked in bewilderment. “I mean, I know we kept it from you, but we figure it’d be easier for you.” 
“Easier for me?” he repeated, voice raising. “What about this entire situation makes you think it’d be easy for me?”
“Well because it-... I mean it doesn’t really affect you, Dean,” you replied, unsure of your own words. 
“It doesn’t affect me?” he repeated with perplexion. “Of course it affects me! You know how I feel about her!” he exclaimed, taking yet another step forward. 
“What?” you questioned, thrown off by his response. 
“Don’t “what” me,” he snapped. “I want to be happy for you, Sammy. I really do, but I just-... I don’t think I ever can be.” 
“Okay, I-... I am so lost,” you admitted.
“You stole my girl, Sam!” Dean all but screamed. “You know that I love her. You know I was gonna tell her, and you know how much I want to spend whatever’s left of my god forsaken life with her! You swore you didn’t feel that way about her. You- I mean how to hell could you do this to me, Sammy? I can’t even stand to look at you anymore.” 
You remained silent, staring at him in shock and confusion for what felt like hours. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to formulate a response, but all that came out was a broken whisper of his name. 
“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. Not like I can blame you for falling for her, right? I mean hey, I sure did,” he sassed, smiling sarcastically. “Not surprised she chose you, either. She deserves someone better than me. But I’m not sticking around anymore to see it first hand.” 
You watched in stunned silence as he turned to gather his bags, trying and failing to think of anything to say. What the hell were you supposed to do? The man of your dreams just admitted he felt the exact same way, and you were trapped in his brother's body. Even if you told him the truth right now, would he even believe you? 
“Do me one favour, though,” Dean said from the foot of the stairs, effectively pulling you from your thoughts. “Don’t tell [Y/N]. Don’t tell her anything. I’ll think of something to tell her during the drive and call her tomorrow.” 
“Dean-” you finally began to protest, only to go unheard by him as he started up the steps. 
“Later, Sammy,” he announced with finality, disappearing out of the bunker. 
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“You have got to be kidding me. I mean honestly woman, how stupid can you be?” Rowena’s voice rang through the war room as she made her arrival known to you and Sam.
“Did you not get in enough insults over the phone?” you asked in exasperation, not bothering to move from your spot in the library as you watched her approach.  
“I don’t think there are enough insults for this situation, dear,” she said sweetly, smiling innocently. 
“Either be helpful or leave, Rowena,” you replied solemnly. 
It had been three days since Dean left, and over two weeks since the whole debacle happened. You had never been more determined to find a solution, nor had you ever felt more defeated. 
“Alright, fine. No need to be cranky,” Rowena tsked, taking a seat across from you. “Go on, then. Walk me through everything.” 
“Fine,” you sighed, steadying yourself before recounting the situation. 
“Let me get this straight,” Rowena declared, holding a hand up. “You actually let him leave? After what he said?” 
“Is that seriously your only take away from this?” you asked angrily, glaring at her. 
“It’s not my only take away, but it’s certainly a big one,” she said calmly, accompanied by a half shrug. “This is the spell you used?” she asked, looking over the book you gave her during your explanation. 
“Yeah, that’s the one,” you confirmed sheepishly. 
“Well, don’t you worry. We’ll have you and Samuel right as rain in no time, dear,” she comforted, eyes never leaving the pages in front of her.
It took another four days, but ‘No time’ finally came. You were practically itching to get this all over and done with as the three of you finished setting everything up. You didn’t even care about being in your own skin again, all you cared about at this point was getting Dean back in your life. He did everything possible to avoid talking to you or Sam each time either of you tried contacting him, and you were missing him more and more with each passing hour.
“That should do it,” Rowena declared, snapping you back to attention. “You know what you need to do?” 
“Yes,” you said quickly, urging her out of the room; the last thing you needed was for her to be around and have the spell go wrong again, resulting in all three of you being scrambled around. 
“Don’t rush it!” she cautioned. “I know you want him back, but you need to take this slowly. You can’t afford another screw up!” 
Her statement made you pause, and you knew she was right. “Go slow, I got it,” you confirmed, shutting her out of the room. 
“Ready?” Sam asked, looking at you eagerly; albeit nervous beyond belief. 
“More than ever,” you declared, taking your place at the altar. 
You began the spell, doing everything slowly and precisely so there was no room for error. Once you had finished, however, nothing had happened. You were just about ready to scream with all the emotions boiling inside of you when suddenly the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow, sending both you and Sam flying. 
“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “This again?” you wondered aloud.
“Did it even work?” Sam croaked out.
“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”
“I think so,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized what happened. “Sam?” you asked breathlessly. 
“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up himself. “Wait-” 
“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; your own hands.
“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; his very own body.
“You’re you!” you exclaimed in glee, pointing at him.
“You’re you!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.
You followed suit, taking a moment to steady yourself on your own feet. “I need to go,” you announced, not giving him time to reply before you ran out of the room. 
“You’re welcome!” Rowena called after you, watching you run by. 
“Thank you!” you called back absently, hurrying out to your car. 
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The drive took longer than ever before; at least, it felt like it did. You spent the whole time trying to think of what to say, of how to explain, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed like enough. All you could hope for was that everything would magically come to you once you stood before him. 
If he ever decided to open the goddamn door. 
“Dammit, Dean! Open the fucking door before I break it down!” you yelled, banging your hand against the wood for the upteenth time. 
You opened your mouth to yell once more, but before you could even make a sound a voice boomed out from behind you. “What are you doing here?” 
You turned with a start, coming face to face with Dean as he stood at the bottom of the steps. “I came to talk to you,” you said simply, taking a few steps forward. 
He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on wiping the grease from his hands with the rag he held. “Coulda just called,” he countered gruffly. 
“Why?” you asked, laughing dryly. “You’d just ignore my calls.” 
He stilled his ministrations for a moment before shrugging, glancing back up at you. “Maybe ‘cause we got nothing to talk about.” 
“Dean-” you tried to argue, though you stopped short when he rolled his eyes and turned away from you. 
“Look, I know all about you and Sam, okay?” he huffed, storming across the drive and to where Baby was parked, hood still open for Dean to continue working on her.  
“Oh, for god’s sake, Dean. There is no me and Sam!” you exclaimed with a groan, quickly following behind him. 
“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he placated, picking up his previously abandoned ratchet. 
“Just listen to me,” you pleaded, watching his face scrunch with a mix of frustration and concentration as he dove back into his work. 
“You don’t need to explain,” he said distractedly. “I get it. He’s good for you. I just-... you didn’t need to hide it, [Y/N/N]. I thought we were closer than that.” 
“We are! That’s not what we were hiding, just let me explain!” you said desperately, stepping closer to him. 
“You can quit the act, okay?” he snapped, stopping what he was doing as he stood up, finally turning to look at you. “I have eyes, I saw what-” 
“Sam and I fucking switched bodies!” you yelled over him, effectively rendering him speechless. “Alright? When you walked in on us doing that spell the other week… it went wrong, Dean. Sam and I, we just-... we switched!”
“You… switched bodies?” he asked slowly, scepticism starting to present itself on his face as he processed what you said.
“Yes,” you confirmed softly. ”I was Sam, Sam was me.”
He nodded, shifting uncomfortably as he anxiously tapped his fingers on Baby’s exterior. “Well, isn’t that just a great story,” he muttered, leaning under the hood once more. 
“It’s not a story,” you argued desperately. “It’s what happened.” 
“Then why not tell me?” he challenged, not missing a beat. 
“Because,” you began lamely. “You always have so much on your plate, Dean. We didn’t want to shove this stupid thing on you and add to your worries.” 
“So you lied to me for my own good?” he asked harshly, gaze not straying from his hands as he worked. 
“We didn’t lie, we just-”
“Avoided the truth,” he finished for you. “Same thing, if you ask me.”
“We thought it was for the best,” you admitted quietly. 
“Oh, yeah,” he agreed sarcastically, throwing his tools down. “Sneaking around, icing me out. Definitely for my best interest, huh?” 
“Dean, please,” you pleaded. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.” 
“Then why did you come, [Y/N]?” he shouted, shutting Baby’s hood. “What did you think was gonna happen here?” 
“Well, I thought-... I just-... I wanted to clear the air,” you stammered. “I wanted to explain.” 
“Well, you explained,” he muttered, busying himself with tidying his mess. 
You watched him silently for a few moments, trying to think of your next move. You decided to ask the question that’s been on your mind since he left: “Were you really planning on actually telling me one day?” 
He let out an irritated sigh, picking up his belongings and moving around to the trunk. “What are you talking about?” 
“Were you really gonna tell me?” you repeated, quickly taking a few steps to meet him at the trunk.  
“Tell you what?” he huffed, irritation oozing off of him as he slammed the toolbox down. 
“How you feel!” you blurted out, taking yet another step towards him. 
“The hell are you talking about?” he questioned, feigning cluelessness. Though the way his body stiffened as he idly messed with the stuff in the trunk betrayed him; he knew what you meant.  
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you replied softly. “Were you?” 
“I don’t know!” he huffed, shutting the trunk. “Maybe,” he added, walking away from you once more. 
“You said-” 
“I know what I said!” he interrupted, clearly irritated. “Can we not relive it? I don’t want to talk about this.” 
“Well I do!” you argued, exasperated. “Why the fuck else do you think I’m here, Dean?”
“To clear the air,” he sneered, repeating your earlier words as he made his way back to the cabin. 
“To tell you I love you!” you shouted after him, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t choose Sam. How can I choose him when I’ve loved you for years? How can I choose him when my entire world stopped spinning the day you shut me out of your life all those years ago? How can I choose him when I didn’t feel like I could breathe until you finally spoke to me again? How can I choose him, when having to watch you walk away the other day was the most terrifying thing I had to do, because I didn’t know if I’d ever get you back this time? You can put us in any timeline, in any universe, or in any realm, and I will always choose you. I love you.”
You were met with silence for entirely too long, and you watched the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders as he kept his back to you, standing tense as ever with his head down low. 
“Will you just look at me, please?” you pleaded shakily.
As soon as the words left your mouth he spun on his heel and marched towards you, closing the distance between you two in seconds. He grabbed your face in his hands, letting a moment of hesitation pass by before crashing his lips against yours. It was harsh yet delicate, slow but needy. It was gentle and all consuming. His hands strayed from your face, one sweeping to the back of your head to hold you steady while the other slipped to your waist and pulled you close. Your hands found themselves gliding up his arms, resting on the base of his neck for a moment before settling on his cheeks. 
When the two of you finally pulled away to catch your breath, it seemed like neither of you wanted to go too far; foreheads pressed together and noses brushing as you both giggled quietly, shy smiles on your swollen lips. 
You stood like that for a few minutes, basking in each other's presence in ways you never could before, until your gentle whisper cut through the silence: “Please come home, Dean.” 
“My sweet girl,” he said quietly, planting a delicate kiss to your forehead before completely wrapping you up in his arms, holding you closer than ever. “I am home.”
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tagging: @winharry
dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika
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alexsoenomel · 2 months
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POV: Texts between You and Dean Winchester
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Bonus if you like Pedro Pascal:
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This is what happens when I can't sleep
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crushedbyhyperbole · 1 month
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Whiskey on the Tongue
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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: You are the forbidden fruit Dean had always wanted to taste, and when you steal his whiskey the way you do, he is powerless to resist.
Words: 2.2k
A/N: This is my first ever Supernatural fic after having started watching the show just before Christmas. I know I'm late to the game but is it ever really too late to start loving a fandom? I've tried to make the reader generic in every way other than being cis-female, and Dean finding her hot.
It's been an absolute age since I wrote anything and probably longer since I posted anything here on Tumblr but I'm getting back into it now. Hopefully this finds its way to people in the Supernatural fandom who love a bit of Dean smut.
I hope you enjoy and, as always, I value your comments and feedback.
Warnings: Smut, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of people who have passed away, profanity as standard with pretty much everything I write.
*** Minors do not read or interact - 18+ content ***
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Dean let his head fall back against the headboard, clenching his fists to try to distract himself from the deep ache in his left leg.  It had been falling asleep for well over an hour now, but he didn’t want to move and disturb you.
The door to his room in the bunker was closed.  Locked, in fact, though he did not remember doing it.  You didn’t comment or so much as move when Sam brayed on the door and tried the handle, calling out for Dean to return his book.  The very book that was in your hands right now.
“I need that book back, Dean.”  Sam grumbled.
“Not now, Sammy!”  Dean called back, hoping his little brother would just go away.
“I’m researching Nephilim to help Cas with the Kelly situation, Dean.  It’s important.”  Sam became more insistent.
“I said NOT NOW, SAM!”  Dean hollered with a kind of finality that even Sam wouldn’t argue with.
Outside the door, Sam huffed and stalked away.  Dean looked down to see you looking up at him from your position, lay on his bed.  Your head was resting on his left calf, his leg bent with his foot tucked under his right knee.  You had your knees up with your foot tapping along to his banging playlist, your jeans tight around your thighs and with your head tilted back he could see all the way down the deep V of your t-shirt.
He was going to hell.  Straight there.  Do not pass go.  Do not collect two hundred dollars.  And he probably deserved it.
He snapped his eyes up towards the ceiling but it was too late, he could feel himself stirring uncomfortably in his jeans.  If Bobby was alive he would have skinned him raw just for having you in his room.  Bobby was always protective of you, his niece.  You were only a couple of years younger than Sam but Bobby had made himself very clear that you were off limits.
“If you touch one single hair on her body, I’ll make you regret the day your balls dropped.  Do you hear me, boy?”
Bobby Singer.  That man did not mince his words.  And to this day, Dean had taken that threat as gospel.  Even now that Bobby was up there with the Angels, that son of a bitch would find a way to keep his word.
You shifted, causing a painful twang to shoot up his leg.  The reflexive grunt he failed to stifle made you look back up at him, giving him that glorious view again.
Dean decided he could die like this.  If having a dead leg was a legitimate threat to his life, he would go out happy with the view of your rack in that lacy black bra he could see within the V-shaped window of that too-tight t-shirt.
He raised his eyes, once again to heaven, asking Bobby to forgive him or give him strength or something because – god help him – he wanted to take you right then and there.
It wasn’t unusual for you to seek him out after a case when you didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want to talk.  You would just sit while he drank, reading or working on spells.  You said he quieted the noise in your head.  Hell, he wasn’t going to argue, you were a sight for sore eyes every time he came home.  You were wicked hot and sexy in a non-slutty way.  Not that slutty was bad.  Dean liked slutty.  But that wasn’t you, you were different.
A drink.  That’s what was missing.  Dean needed a damn drink, especially if you were going to torture him by laying on him all evening.
He reached over to his bedside unit, for the bottle he kept in there for special occasions.  A bottle of twenty-five-year-old Speyside single malt that he liberated from the British Men of Letters on his last interaction with Ketch.
The pour made you stir again but it wasn’t until he raised the cut crystal tumbler to his lips did you move.  Your hand came up and claimed the glass from underneath, twisting it as you sat up so as not to spill any.
“Where’s yours?”
The cheeky glint in your eye had him pursing his lips in mild annoyance.
“Don’t pout.”  You lifted the glass, turning it until the mark left by his lips touched yours and you sipped, looking him straight in the eye.
Dean’s jaw went slack.  The glisten of the whiskey on your lips and the satisfied hum you made when you swallowed – he swallowed unconsciously when you did – made his mouth go dry.  He had never seen you like this.
You moved to kneel on the bed and walked your way slowly closer, giving his leg a tap; an instruction to move it aside.  He did, causing pins and needles to infest his nerves like ants swarming on a log to escape a flood.
Knelt between his spread legs, you brought the glass to your lips again, sipping at the amber liquid.  You leaned in.
Dean watched you, breathing shallow, attention rapt.  You hadn’t so much as touched him, yet every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way.  The closer you got the shallower he breathed until he was almost holding his breath, looking down his nose at how close your lips were.  His eyelashes looked to flutter against his cheeks just as yours did when you brushed your whiskey dappled lips against his.
He refused to lick where you had been.  He couldn’t.  As soon as he tasted, he would pounce, and…
“Don’t.”  He croaked out when you moved to lay your lips on him once more.
You looked confused but at least you didn’t look hurt.  He couldn’t bear it if you looked hurt because of him.
“Bobby…”  Was all he could say through his constricting throat.
You smiled then, full of amusement, lips brushing against his, you whispered “he’ll understand.”
Dean tried not to respond to you but you coaxed his lips apart and teased your tongue to meet his, short circuiting his brain.  The taste of the scotch and the sweetness of your mouth made him groan.  He had fantasised about having you for years, but never did he think it would be you seducing him.
His hands on your hips guided you roughly to straddle him, the bulge in his jeans pushing up against you as you settled.  He took the glass from your hands and downed the contents, his eyes on yours as he dropped the glass carelessly on the bedside unit.
Your lips met his again but this time you devoured each other, tongues stroking together, moans stifled by each other’s mouths.  He trailed his hands up your body, dragging your t-shirt along with them.  Finally, he could see what he had been having glimpses of this whole evening.  Plush breasts cupped in scant lace that was completely impractical for a hunt, Dean realised, like you had meant to come here like this.  You had intended this from the beginning.
He tore at the lace, dragging it under your breasts to free them, shoulder straps slipped down.  Pawing at them like he had never touched a tittie before, all he wanted to do was suck and nip and nibble.
Your breathy sigh was divine, and the moan that followed was filthy.  You cupped the back of his head as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, pressing him further, asking for more.
While he worked on your breasts you undid his belt and fly, reaching into the front of his shorts to release him from the awkward angle at which he was trapped.  You stroked him, firm but slow, feeling him for the first time.  You had always wondered what he had going on down there that every woman he had ever been with would come back for more at the drop of a hat.  You weren’t disappointed.
Dean lifted his hips, you thought to allow you to push his jeans down but instead he flipped you, making you squeal.  Once under him, he ravished your breasts anew, pinching one nipple hard while licking and sucking the other.  Soon you were a mewling mess, hips writhing, begging for something he hadn’t given you yet.  Excited that he had taken control away from you, you watched him sit up and yank your jeans down, lifting your legs until they were bare.  Your knickers followed and he spread your legs without preamble, lowering himself between your thighs until his hair and eyes were all you could see above your mound.
“Jesus Christ of Nazareth!”
You groaned as he suckled against your sensitive spot.  Fuck, he was good with his tongue.  Everything about him was good except his image.  Bad boy Dean Winchester.  He was every woman’s wet dream.  He had been your wet dream since you were seventeen.  But now you were plenty old enough and finally getting what you wanted.
Bobby had told you to stay away from him when you were a kid.  Dean had a reputation as a ladies man even then, but he respected your uncle Bobby enough to keep his distance… until now.
Dean dipped two fingers inside, creating pressure in exactly the right spot.  You gasped and gripped his hair as your pleasure began to crest, tugging on it for dear life.  He looked up at you then, to see your eyes closed against the intensity of it, neck and face flushed red with your oncoming orgasm.  When it came, the pulsing of your core was his sign to slow down.  He left off his suckling and stroked you through the pleasure, watching you all the while.  You were a beautiful mess.
“That’s my girl.”  He praised you in that deep rough tone you adored, helping prolong your climax until you took his hand away yourself.  “Are you ready for me?”
You nodded, allowing him to lift your knees up and stroke the weeping tip of his cock over your swollen clit.
From the front pocket of the jeans he still wore, he pulled a foil packet with Trojan embossed on it.  He was swift with its application, aiming his tip just so.
When he slid home, your eyes rolled back and you reached to grip his forearms.  It was something Dean would never get tired of seeing but it felt that much different with you.  You were the forbidden thing he had always wanted but could never have.  Even now he didn’t know whether he would come to regret this.  God, he hoped not.
Balls deep in you, he leaned forward to kiss you, wrapping your legs around his hips.  His instinct was to fold you in half and pound the living shit out of you, but you were already overwhelmed and he wanted to make this soft for you.
“Tell me what you need.”  He spoke softly as he nuzzled your neck.
“Just you, like this.”  You sighed.  Who knew Dean Winchester was a considerate lover.
His slow, measured thrusts brought you closer to the edge, your core fluttering each time, he could feel it.  It surprised him how quickly is climax built at this pace, but the added connection you both shared seemed to turn him on.  He would never give up Busty Asian Babe porn but he could get used to this with you.
You didn’t close your eyes against the pleasure this time, you watched him come undone above you, gasping as his orgasm made his legs and arms shake, muscles clenched tight to keep his weight from collapsing on you.  When he swelled you dug your fingers into his hips to pull him deeper with each stroke, and when he spilled you also came, eyes fluttering shut finally.
Dean knelt up, slipping the rubber off as soon as he was clear of you and, tying a knot in the end, tossed it in the direction of the trash can.
“Shot.”  You said with a smile as the sticky bundle went straight in the can.
He quirked and eyebrow and give you a slightly smug lopsided smirk that said:  What can I say?  I don’t miss.
When you moved to sit, he stopped you.
“Here, lemme get that.”
“Thanks.”
He stripped his t-shirt off and used it to clean up the wetness between your legs.  Though none of it was his, it would still dribble when you moved.  Afterwards he tucked it under your ass and flopped down on the bed at your side, moving his arm behind your head so you could rest it on his chest.  You were both content.  Both had goofy grins on your faces.  Both disbelieving that you had finally gotten what you wanted.
A loud knock at the door started you.
“Are you done?”  Sam said.  “I need that book.”
“NO!”  You and Dean shouted back in unison, laughing afterwards.
“Bobby’s gonna kill you.”  Sam called back through the door.
“I KNOW!”  Dean yelled gruffly, pulling you closer.
There might be a time in the future where the ghost of Bobby Singer came to make him regret the day his balls dropped and, if it happened, Dean would be happy to see him again.  In the meantime, you and he could work on a whole bunch of reasons to make the cranky old bastard come down from up high for a visit.
Dean pulled the sheets over both of your heads, nibbling at your neck until you moaned his name.  Aside from the roar of Baby’s engine, he had found his new favourite sound.
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 5 months
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ring ring
kinktober, day nineteen
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a/n: this idea wasn’t originally for these two, but damn if it doesn’t fit super well 
summary: “you know, Sam is gonna notice if I’m gone for too long…”
warnings: bf!dean winchester x reader x sam winchester, smut, dubcon, established relationship, love triangle, phone sex, mutual masturbation, toys, dirty talk, having a huge crush on your boyfriend's brother, cheating, kissing, pussyjob, allusion to sex, slight orgasm denial, slight edging
word count: 2483
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023
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“Dean,” you raised your phone up to your ear and peeled your eyes away from the heavy tome cracked open on the table before you, “hi!”
“Hey beautiful,” his deep timbre rumbled warmly, “how’s it going over there?”
“Oh, you know,” you peeked over at Sam who glanced from his similarly hefty book, “slow,” you watched his eyes flicker back down to the page as he got the gist of the casual call, “it’s a lot of research to get through…” shooting your chair back, you stood up, absentmindedly pushing it back into place as you asked, “how about you? Are you still on the road?”
“Nope, I just got here a few hours ago,” your vision lingered on Sam’s long fingers as they ghosted their way down the page he was reading, “I was just about to go over and check the place out,” your teeth tensely seized your bottom lip as you slowly whirled around and took a few paces away. Picking up on your silence, Dean gently poked, “what?”
Hand apprehensively tapping against your thigh, you lowered your voice to admit, “I just don’t like the idea of you being all the way up there on your own…”
“I’m barely a day’s drive away,” you heard him let out a soft sigh. 
“But what if something happens?” your feet carried you out into the hallway, the younger Winchester still visible to your wandering eye.  
“Babe, I can take care of myself,” he pointed out with a small chuckle. 
“I know that…”
“I’ve checked out hundreds of things by myself, this time is no different, it’s just a little ghost, I’ll be fine,” he reassured you. Spine melting against one of the cool walls, you watched as Sam’s hazel glare locked on you as it so often did, effectively causing goosebumps to erupt, ones that didn’t fade in the slightest as Dean then cheekily enquired, “is it because I can’t take care of you from all the way up here?”
Breathy chuckle rolling off your lips, you averted your gaze and humoured him, “well you said it, not me.”
“Who says that I can’t?” you could practically hear the smug smirk through the phone. 
“Dean,” your head shook lightly from side to side.
Letting out a groan that made your cunt clench, “love it when you say my name…”
“I am supposed to be doing research,” a laugh bubbled out through your groan. 
“So, take a break.”
Casting one last glance back at the tall man sitting at the long table, you couldn’t help but give in with a playful, “I hate you.”
“Sure, you do,” he chuckled sarcastically as you scurried into your room just on the right, “was that the sound of a door closing?”
“It was,” you then purposefully flopped down on the mattress loud enough for the frame to creak, “and that was the sound of me laying down on my bed.”
“Atta girl,” he practically purred, “what are you wearing?”
“You are so cliché,” you giggled, staring up at the ceiling. 
“Oh, come on, you love it.”
Exhaling slowly, you counted, “t-shirt and a pair of jeans.”
Humming contently, you then heard him suggest, “why don’t you take those pants off for me?”
“You know, Sam is gonna notice if I’m gone for too long…”
“So? He doesn’t need you to babysit him. Just stop thinking about the research for a bit, just be here with me, relax, you clearly need it.” 
Exhaling slowly, you unbuttoned your trousers and wiggled them down your legs, “alright,” you kicked them to the floor at the foot of the bed, “they’re off.” 
“Are you touching yourself?” his deep voice tickled your ear and shot straight down to your core. 
“Not yet,” your thighs instinctively squeezed together, hips rolling gently as your free hand began to drift south. 
“Good, don’t. Not until I tell you to, okay?” 
Halting your hand in its tracks, it clenched into a fist as you chuckled, “you’re such an ass.” 
“I know, but I’m an ass who can make you cum straight into next week,” he bragged as you reached up to readjust the pillows, mushing them perfectly under your head, “Y/n, relax, shut that beautiful brain of yours off a second and just do as I say, promise it’ll be worth it,” 
“Fine, I promise I won’t,” you exhaled with a light eye-roll, “are you touching yourself?” 
“Do you know how hard it is not to when listening to your voice?” you suddenly noticed how ragged his tone was, “I just have to think about you and I’m fucking throbbing, baby,” you heard him spit in his free palm before sloppy strokes began to echo through the receiver, a melody alone that made you note just how torturously the ache between your thighs was, “shit,” he groaned shamelessly, “I wish it was you touching me… you fucking playing with me, teasing the shit out of me like you do when you’re sitting on my face… leaking down on my tongue… creaming from just a little kiss…” 
Bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you breathed, “Dean…”
“You know what I was thinking about just before I called you?”
“What?” your airy answer rushed out quicker than you’d like. He certainly had you hooked now… 
“That time in the car…”
“Which one?” you let out a light laugh. 
“That first time in the car. You remember how impatient you were? Couldn’t even wait till we got back to the motel.”
“I wasn’t impatient,” you defended, “you were just a tease.” 
“I was a tease? You were the one who climbed into my seat.” 
“Well, you were the one who invited me into your seat.” 
“Yeah, I was,” you didn’t have to see his face to know the huge smirk that had bloomed, “but it worked, didn’t it? Your legs didn’t stop shaking till the next day…”
Eyes lightly rolling in your skull, you tried not to give him the satisfaction of knowing the immense power he had over you, “you will never let me down for that, will you?” 
“I still remember what it was like hearing you moan for the first time… shit,” he brazenly let you hear every last lavish jerk he let himself relish in, “it was so hard not to burst right then and there… I had never heard anything as hot as that before…”
“Dean…” you whined, hips gently rolling though not giving any relief whatsoever, “can I-… can I please touch myself?”
“Why?” he teased, not slowing his own pleasure down one bit, “is this turning you on? Are you getting wet for me?”
“Dean,” you sounded downright pathetic at this point. Yet another thing for the memory banks that he could mock you endlessly about. 
“You didn’t answer my question, sweetheart,” he croaked, “reach down and feel for me, but don’t play with yourself, just feel…”
“You are so mean…” you grumbled light-heartedly as you finally slipped your free fingers below the waist of your panties. 
“Is that a yes?” he challenged. 
“Yes, yes, I’m really fucking wet,” you admitted begrudgingly, nearly whimpering as you retracted your hand, a sinful sheen now glazing the skin. 
“Good,” he crooned conceitedly, “now lift up your shirt and play with those tits,” though it wasn’t the place you longed to caress, you still rushed to fulfil his request, “what I wouldn’t give to touch them right now…” your breathing grew more ragged as your hand switched from one to the other in a lewd little massage, “they’re so fucking perfect… so soft, so pretty,” you gave the pebbly nipple right above your heart a harsh pinch, just like how Dean’s greedy fingers liked to do it, “and when you’re lying on your back and I thrust up into you just right, the way that makes them jiggle?” your cunt clenched at the image, “fuck… hypnotize me, why don’t you? Call me your slave because I’ll follow you anywhere…” dizzying breathes flowing from your lips, your boyfriend was only silent a second, enjoying what little you gave him before he finally said, “hey, baby?” a fuzzy hum immediately rushing out of you, “be a good girl and play with that pretty little pussy for me, yeah? Make it feel real good…”
You might as well have been set aflame with turned on you were. It almost felt like you electrocuted yourself when you finally rubbed your aching clit. 
“Fuck, Dean!” your form thrashed atop the bed. 
“Lower the phone, sweetheart. Let me hear how wet that pussy is,” to which you briefly brought it down to catch more of the lewd soppy sounds echoing throughout the room with every needy caress, “christ, I wish I was there with you…”
Yanking your panties off completely, kicking them to the floor, you swiftly slid two fingers into your quivering hole, “I wish you were here too,” but the petiteness of your fingers caused you to let out a desperate whine, “fuck, Dean, I-…”
“What?” by the sound of his condescending tone it was obvious that he already knew the problem, “what’s wrong, baby?” 
“I feel so empty…” you nearly cried as your fingers pumped and pumped but just couldn’t get deep enough to scratch that itch. 
“Oh, are your pretty fingers not long enough? Not big enough to stretch that pussy out the way that she deserves, huh?”
“N-no.” 
Completely entranced by the melody his own efforts emitted, he promptly muttered, “do something for me then, yeah?”
“Huh?”
“Stop touching yourself.”
“What?” your movements slowed, but didn’t halt completely, “no, no!”
“Stop touching yourself and go get the toy in the bedside table,” painstakingly snatching your glistening digits back, you scurried over the mattress to the table on the right side. Ripping the drawer open, you couldn’t get your hands on the realistic-looking silicone fast enough, “you got it?”
“Yeah,” you crawled back to your previous spot and laid back down. 
“Good. Now give it a little kiss before letting your cunt feel it,” you brought the tip of the dildo up to your lips, giving it a gentle little lick before filling up your mouth more, “be nice, treat it like you’d treat me.” 
After releasing it from your peck with a pop, slobber clung to it as you lowered it down between your trembling thighs, “oh my god,” your eyes fluttered as you slid it inside, “Dean!” 
“That what you needed, babe?” you heard him chuckle. 
“Yes, fuck, it feels so good!” squeezing your eyes shut, you pumped it lavishly, “I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last with this.”
“Hold on, just a little bit longer, can you do that for me?” 
“Dean,” your plea came out as a moan. 
“Fuck, you sound so hot,” he panted, “don’t cum yet, baby, not yet,” obviously being painfully close himself, “shit, I wish I could see you right now, laying there, in your bed, fucking yourself for me, dripping all over those sheets,” your nails dug into the flared base of the toy, “I can’t wait to get home, baby. Feel that pussy clench around my cock again, maybe even keep that dildo close by to plug up your other holes… fucking hell, you wanna cum with me?”
“Yes!” you cried out. 
“Then go ahead, be a good girl and cum all over that toy,” removing your grip on the silicone, you briefly drifted your fingers up to give your clit the attention it was screaming for. 
But just before you were about to dance your digits back down to give the toy one last pump, it began to move on its own. Snapping your eyes open, you saw none other than Sam, grip firm on the base as he ploughed the dildo in and out of you, giving you exactly what you needed, “oh my god,” your eyes grew wide as they locked with his, though your fingers couldn’t seem to quit their needy circles over your puffy pearl, “oh my god,” holding his piercing gaze, you tumbled over the edge, “fuck!” 
Hearing your boyfriend swiftly follow suit, you just kept blinking back at his brother as he slowly pulled the toy out of your clenching cunt, “fuck, that was so good, baby, shit, I came so much over here.”
“Mhm…” you distantly hummed, chest heaving as you watched Sam swipe a finger over the toy, collecting some of your juices before swiftly letting his tongue have a taste.
“Fuck, I can’t wait to get back home to you.”
“Y-yeah,” Sam’s eyes stayed locked with yours as he popped his finger back out, “me neither…”
“Just a day or so more and I’m all yours,” your hazy gaze fluttered down to spot Sam’s girth, freed and throbbing. 
“See you then,” you distantly spoke before hanging up and letting your phone drop to the mattress. 
Like a crack of thunder, before you even had time to register what it was that you were doing, the two of you clawed the other closer and locked your lips in a fevered kiss. Nails nearly digging through his clothes, it didn’t take long before your fingers enveloped Sam’s cock, the weight making your knees wobbly. 
 But just as quickly as you had collided like magnets, that’s how fast you pulled back again, “Sam-, shit…” palms planted on his chest, you shook your head in an effort to clear it, “this is bad, we can’t do this…”
“Don’t say that,” he plucked up your chin, “don’t fucking deny what’s going on between us, what’s been there since the very beginning.”
“But, what about-”
“I don’t give a shit about that,” both his hands came up to cup your face, “do you want me? Do you want me as much as I want you?” 
Blinking back at him, all you could do was wistfully tilt your head instead of uttering the truth, “Sam…”
“Because if you don’t, if you really don’t, then tell me to walk away and I will,” he slowly inched closer, a hand drifting down to grasp his cock to tease you with the tip that was already so desperately nudging against your core and getting soaked in your want, “tell me that you don’t want this, that you don’t want me…” he parted your petals with his dick, “tell me and I’ll go away…”
Breathlessly, blinking back into his dark gaze, instead of finding the words, you simply pulled him back in and gave him a kiss as confirmation.
A string of saliva still connecting your lips, his nose ghosted against yours as his teasing grew more confident, “you want it, huh? Tell me that you want me.”
“I want you,” you finally uttered after ages of suppressing the fevered desire. 
“Tell me again,” he nearly growled, catching your weeping hole at every electric flick through your folds. 
“I want you, please fuck me.”
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© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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pinkiebieberpie · 1 year
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pov: your camera roll if you were on a vacation with sam, dean and castiel
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who said a hunter can't take a break? lots of fun, enjoying your time together at a peaceful place and just a little bit of hunting 🌲☀️
tagging my sun @fleurfairie ☀️
supernatural masterlist
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queen-of-deans-booty · 2 months
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Across Every Universe
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~2.1k
Warnings: fluff
Request by anon: Hey Jordan, can i request something where Dean Winchester always have a crush on the reader but never said something to her until one day Sam and Dean are transported (based on the episode French Mistake) and Dean actor Jensen and is married to the reader of the universe and she pass the whole day giving Dean hug and kisses because for everyone is Jensen. When Dean and Sam came back to their universe him and the reader start dating? Fluff 
Summary: Sam and Dean are taken back to the same place where Dean is known as Jensen Ackles and Sam as Jared Padalecki. This little trip makes Dean realize his feelings for you.
Square Filled: "god, if only you knew what you did to me" (2023) for @spnaubingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
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No matter the position you’re in, you’re not comfortable. It doesn’t matter if you lie down on your side, your back, or your stomach. Not to mention the heater isn’t working in the Bunker so it’s very cold. You have three blankets over you while wearing long sleeves and pajama pants. The broken heater doesn’t help your running cold either. You’re not sure where you caught it from but you’ve been trying to stay away from the brothers to not get them sick.
That doesn’t keep Dean away, though.
He’s a complete sweetheart to you since he always brings you soup, makes sure you’re comfortable, and spends time with you even if you tell him not to go near you. You don’t know what you’d do without Dean in your life.
Speaking of, he knocks on your door and enters wearing his usual hunting attire.
“Going on a hunt?” you ask and sit up slightly.
“Yeah. I wish I could stay here and take care of you.”
“Other people need you,” you smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to stay in bed, watch movies, and make some soup later. Did you fix the heater, yet?”
“I have someone coming in a few days. He’s also on a hunt.”
“Right, no non-hunters here,” you chuckle.
“I’ll call you later and check up on you, okay?”
“My hero.”
You cuddle with your blankets more and Dean leaves your room with a slight blush on his cheeks. Before he closes the door, he looks back at you in thought. God, if only you knew what you did to me.
He closes your door and meets his brother in the library. As soon as they are packed and ready to go, they start the long drive to the next state over. When Dean gets onto the highway, Sam turns to Dean with a knowing smile.
“So, did you tell her how you feel?”
“Stay out of it, Sammy,” Dean rolls his eyes.
“How long have you had a thing for her? Years? When are you going to tell her how you feel?”
“I mean it, Sam. Stay out of it. I can handle it on my own.”
“Apparently not, or else she’d be yours.”
Dean punches his brother not gently in the arm and Sam laughs. Dean kept the music high so he could avoid talking about his feelings for you. They get to the town that has its residents sacrificing themselves in the name of God. If anything, it warrants some kind of visit from the Winchesters.
The town looks like a normal town with normal people just trying to live their normal lives. They have no suspicions that something is happening but they only just arrived. They get there late at night so they will have to do their work tomorrow morning. Dean takes out his phone when his brother goes into the bathroom to shower and calls you.
“Hey, how are you feeling?”
“I’m doing alright but not any better.”
“Did you take your medicine?”
“Yes, I did.” He can hear the smile in your voice and that makes him smile. “And I ate my soup and drank water.”
“Don’t forget to tell her goodnight,” Sam says loudly from the bathroom.
Dean grabs a pillow and chucks it at his brother. “Go take a shower. You stink.”
“Goodnight, Dean,” you chuckle, having heard Sam.
“Night sweetheart.” He hangs up and turns to his brother with a scowl. “I hate you.”
Sam and Dean actually get more than four hours of sleep that night but when Dean wakes up, he doesn’t recognize his surroundings. The motel is gone, the shutty beds and blankets are gone, and the peeling wallpaper is gone. What replaces it is a nice trailer, a comfortable bed, a big aquarium, and other nice shit that Dean has never had.
“Sammy?” he calls out. He gets up and leaves the small trailer only to run into Sam. “What the hell is going on? Where are we?”
“I don’t know.” Sam looks around and spots a name on the side of the trailer that’s behind Dean. “Oh, no. Look.”
Dean turns and sees the name ‘Jensen Ackles’ on the side. He turns back around and sees ‘Jared Padalecki’ on the trailer opposite his.
“You’ve got to be kidding me? We’re back in actor land? What happened last time?”
“Gabriel sent us here to avoid Raphael and his minions. I have no idea how we ended up here.”
“I bet it has something to do with the fact that people were sacrificing themselves in the name of God. My guess is that angels are involved.”
“There you two are.” Sam and Dean turn to see Castiel--Misha--walking toward them. “They’re looking for you two.”
“Yeah, we’re coming.”
If Sam and Dean didn’t do a good job trying to act last time, then they certainly aren’t going to do a good job now. It’s funny in hindsight but it makes for a very long day of filming. After the twentieth time messing up, Dean is ready to get the hell out of there to figure out how to get back to his world.
He looks to the right and sees you at the snack bar. He immediately calls for a time-out and leaves the set.
“Time out?” the director frowns and looks at him. “Everyone, take ten!”
“Y/N?”
“Come here, you have to try this. Gen made it,” you grin at Dean. You take a scoopful of food and present it to him. He opens his mouth and accepts the food, pleasantly surprised by the taste. “Oh, you have something on your mouth.” You wipe his bottom lip with your thumb and lick the food off. Dean is so confused about your behavior but doesn’t have time to figure it out. Your phone rings and you check who is messaging you. “I gotta go. Gen is here.”
You lean up and kiss him quickly before walking off. Dean can’t move after that quick kiss. You did it so casually like you’ve done it a thousand times. He is forced to go back to acting but he can’t do a good job because all he’s thinking about is your lips on his.
They aren’t getting enough filming done so the director calls it for the rest of the day. Sam and Dean convene outside to make it look like they’re busy so no one else talks to them.
“She kissed me, dude.”
“What?”
“Y/N or the woman who she’s supposed to be. She kissed me like we’re together or something.”
“Look, I’m glad you’re going through the five stages of teenage excitement but can we focus here? How are we going to get out of here?”
Dean looks around and spots you entering his trailer.
“Eh, you’ll figure it out. I’ll be back.”
Dean leaves to his trailer and Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance.
“Dean!” he hisses but receives no answer.
Dean enters his counterpart’s trailer and sees you where the bed is. You’re grabbing some night clothes out of the drawers since you’re not going to be leaving the trailer for the rest of the night.
“Hey, I talked to Gen about the cabin and she got it all set up for us this weekend. I’m so excited to spend some time away from all this for two days.”
“Are we dating?” The comment makes you laugh. “What?”
“Are you okay?” He looks kind of nervous so you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but I do know how to make you feel better.”
“How?” he whispers.
You run your hands down his chest and take his hands. You take him to the bed and toss your night clothes onto a nearby chair. You fall onto the bed while pulling him so he lands on top of you but he stops himself with his hands so he doesn’t completely crush you.
You pull him down to kiss you and that’s enough to bring Dean into the delusion that you’re Y/N and you’re his. Your lips are softer than what he thought and your body fits so perfectly against his. He slips his tongue into your mouth to get familiar with you. You tug on his hair to get some traction so he pulls away from your mouth and kisses down your neck.
Your neck has always been a sensitive spot for you and he really knows how to work you up. He licks up and down your neck before latching onto the side of it. You gasp, tilt your head back, and moan something that brings Dean back down to reality.
“Jensen.” You’re not his. You’re not you. You’re Jensen’s. You’re not supposed to be with him. He pulls away and pants above you. “What’s wrong?”
“Can we just lay here instead?”
“Yeah, of course. Let me get changed.”
You slip out from underneath him and grab the pajamas you set aside earlier. You strip down naked and Dean has a hard time not looking at you. He can’t help but think you’re a complete stranger. The pajamas you’re wearing are revealing but he feels better at looking at you with clothes on. You climb into bed with him and cuddle into his side, and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your head.
“How did I get so lucky?”
“I’m the lucky one.”
“Tell me the story of how we met.” You look at him in confusion. “I want to hear it from you.”
“Okay, I got tickets to a red carpet event that my ex-friend invited me to. We were going to see the movie My Bloody Valentine because we thought it was going to be the next big movie. The entire cast was there, including you, meeting fans and taking pictures with them. When we locked eyes, it was like something was pulling you to me.
“You came over to me, complimented me on my dress, signed my poster with your number on it which I still have, and the rest is history. I never got together with you because you were a big celebrity. You were genuine, kind, funny, charming, and very sexy. It was hard not to fall in love with you.”
Dean notices the big ring on your finger and puts the pieces together.
“We’re married?”
“Yes, we are,” you laugh. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just… really happy.”
You lean over and kiss him. The next morning, Dean leaves his trailer before you get up. He doesn’t want to wake you even though he wants to. He finds Sam outside his own trailer with a book in his hands.
“Hey,” Dean sighs.
“I might have found a way out of here, no thanks to you.”
“What if we didn’t leave?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“The love of my life is my wife here.”
“That’s not your wife, Dean. She’s Jensen’s wife. She thinks you’re him. Why would you take that away from him? You have a girl waiting for you at home, a girl with whom you’re too scared to do anything about. Don’t take her away from him because you want what they have.”
Dean knows he’s right. He can’t stay here. He’s using this world as an escape from his own.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean sighs. “What do you have?”
“I found this book in the prop section. This might be a TV show but it does have some useful books to make it look real. There’s a ritual we can do.”
And a ritual it is. Once they get the stuff needed and perform it, they are brought back to the town they arrived in a couple of days ago. In order to properly tackle this town, they’re going to need some angelic help. Maybe Castiel can meet them back at the Bunker and figure something out then.
The first thing Dean does when he gets home is go looking for you. You’re still stuck in bed watching your favorite movies on Disney+. You pause your movie when your bedroom door opens.
“Hey, how was the hunt?” Dean doesn’t say anything as he kicks off his shoes. He climbs into bed with you and pulls you close to him. “Dean?”
“I love you,” he blurts. “I should have told you this years ago but I can’t seem to think straight when I’m with you. You make everything better for me, and you’re a better hunter than I ever was. God, I love you so much.”
“I’d kiss you but I don’t want to get you sick,” you smile.
“I don’t care,” he whispers and kisses you.
This is where he belongs. Right next to you.
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moonlightspencie · 11 months
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This Ain’t for the Best
Description: Mutual pining. Classic hunting scenarios. Sharing a bed. Wearing the other’s clothes. Confessions. Friends to lovers. Tswizzle title. Need I say more?
Pairing: Dean Winchester x gn!Reader
Warnings: a little bit of violence, me cramming in every cliché i can because i love the classic fanfiction tropes more than i love breathing
Word Count: 5.9k
A/N: i was kicking my feet and giggling as i wrote this, especially when i snuck in criminal minds AND taylor swift references. i love writing and never beta-reading or editing what i’ve written. catharsis.
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Crashing at Bobby’s had its benefits.
First, we had the comfort of knowing where we were going to sleep at night. It was good to have a bed waiting that wasn’t in a motel room.
Second, there was almost always good food around. I had a knack for home-cooked meals, and it was much easier to be appreciated for it when I actually had a stove to cook on.
Third, there were boundless opportunities for Sam, Dean, and I to kick back and actually relax.
That’s how I ended up in the kitchen, laughing with Dean over old stories we’d told a million times before. He reached in the fridge, pulling out two bottles after we’d come down from the most recent remembrance of an old case. He cracked open the top of his beer, then my drink, sliding it towards me on the counter. Sam and Bobby strolled in st that moment, pausing when they saw us.
“You both woke up like an hour ago,” Sam said, unamused.
“6pm somewhere,” Dean and I said in unison.
We looked at each other with a small laugh, leaving Bobby and Sam rolling their eyes. I took my drink and stood a few steps away.
“We should really get going, though, Dean,” Sam stated.
“Where?” Bobby asked.
“We were planning on doing a run to the grocery story. I don’t want us to eat up all your food without repaying you, and we’re almost out of beer,” Sam said, pointedly looking at his brother.
“This one needs more of those little fruity drinks, too,” Dean teased, nodding at the bottle in my hand.
“Hey, it’s still a malt liquor. Just one that I like,” I said with a laugh.
They said their goodbyes, and I started walking into the front room. Bobby watched the door for a few moment after the boys left, then turned in the archway and locked his gaze on me as I sat on the couch.
I looked at the bottle in my hand. “I know y’all are all about beer, but I can’t help if I prefer something with a little flavor.”
“That’s not why I’m looking at you,” he grumbled, fed up with me already. “What in the world is goin’ on with you and Dean?”
“Huh?”
He furrowed his brow. “Don’t act all shy, now. You two have been flirting nonstop lately.”
“What’s new? We’re both pretty flirtatious in general.”
“Not like this,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know the last time I saw that boy blushing, or you getting all flustered like a teenager.”
“I am not,” I scoffed. “Nothing’s happening, Bobby.”
“I’ve known your for five years, now, and I’ve known those boys since they were kids. You stayed in my house for a year, too. You can’t hide this kind of thing from me.”
“I’m not hiding anything. I’m an open book.”
Now, he scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m running for president.”
I rolled my eyes, taking another drink. He came closer, sitting down next to me.
“If you keep denying all this…”
I swallowed, finally resigning. “There’s nothing to do about it, Bobby.”
“Yes, there is. You could tell him.”
“It wouldn’t do any good. You know how he is, he doesn’t want to be tied down. If we don’t make any moves or promises or whatever, a lot less doesn’t get broken.”
He raised a brow. “I do know how he is. For you, he’d make an exception.”
“I don’t think so. Besides, it’s all just flirting for him. Doesn’t mean anything.”
“Are you blind?”
I looked at him, brows raising. He shook his head, picking at the label on his bottle.
“Sorry. I just— I know what I’m seeing, and I really don’t think it’s just a little friendly flirting for him, either,” he said, looking at me again. “I really think you should speak up while you’ve got the chance to. We don’t often get good things with lives like ours.”
“I know. I just don’t want to screw things up.”
“You’re gonna end up screwed if you keep pushing it down, anyway.”
I sighed. He took that signal as a time to change the subject, and for that I was thankful.
“Well, let’s find you the next case, huh?”
The next one was an easy find, and it would’ve been great to break the news to the boys when they got back, if not for a very clumsy Sam walking in the door with a twisted ankle.
“You what?” Bobby asked, incredulous.
Sam sighed, pouting. “I rolled it when I stepped in a pothole.”
Dean shook his head, clearly hiding his amusement as he helped his brother hobble towards a kitchen chair.
“So, no case, then?” I asked.
Bobby perked up. “No, you and Dean can still go. I can take care of Sam.”
“Bobby…” I warned, seeing through him instantly.
“Yeah, that’d be great,” Dean said, cutting off my death stare. “When was the last time we went on a case, just you and me?”
I looked at him.
“Seriously, you guys can go without me,” Sam said. “It might be good for you, Y/N. You seem a little restless.”
“I am not,” I defended.
Bobby chuckled. “Sure, you’re not. But I’m not suggested, I’m telling you. Get out of my house.”
I glanced at him, offended. “I am a delight.”
“You are, but I still want you out. You become much less delightful when you’re antsy.”
Dean laughed. “Come on, it’s only a state over, right? If we start driving now we can make it by sundown.”
I took a moment.
“Alright,” I nodded, heading towards the stairs to gather my things.
The case was a hot mess, to say the least. We couldn’t figure out what we were hunting to begin with, and the only true consistency is that the deaths were messy, leaving each victims with missing livers. It wasn’t until we were at the most recent site of the death that things took a little bit of a turn.
“What do you think?” Dean asked, leaning in my direction.
I shrugged, looking around the house.
“It seems… clean.”
“I mean, I guess. We haven’t found hex bags or EMF readings—”
“No,” I cut him off, gesturing around the living room. “Like physically clean. Nothing is out of place. Look at the mantle.”
I walked over, using my gloved hand to wipe along the surface. I showed him my hand.
“Clean. Not even dust.”
He raised a brow. “And that matters because…”
“Because we’re supposed to be looking for some monster-unknown that never cleans up their messes. Every other scene we’ve been to has been a wreck, so why is the only thing out of place the blood stains on the floor? This is also the first time it’s been in the victims house.”
He paused. “You’ve been watching Criminal Minds again, haven’t you?”
I rolled my eyes, taking off the glove.
“That’s not important right now,” I shook my head, standing next to him again. “And, for the record, it’s helping our case.”
“Right,” he chuckled. “Well, profiler, why don’t you tell me more about what you’re gathering from the scene.”
“Don’t patronize me,” I said with a laugh.
He smirked, placing a hand on my back.
“Let’s get out of here and figure out why things changed.”
We followed dead-end leads all over town, until we hit a lucky streak.
“Check this out,” Dean said, calling me over to the table in our room. “Remember that dive bar our last vic was seen at? Look at this dude’s last social media post.”
I walked over, resting a hand against the table as I leaned in. I looked at the laptop, raising a brow.
“Same place.”
“Same place,” he confirmed. “Wanna check it out? See if anything suspicious is up?”
“You sure you don’t just want to hit the bar?”
He looked up at me with a quirked brow.
“What do you think I am? Drinking on the job. I’d never,” he feigned innocence.
I snorted. “Right. So not you.”
“Leave in ten?”
“Sounds good to me.”
We hit the road soon after, winding up at the bar with our eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. There was plenty for us to see in a seedy town like this, but there was only one interaction that truly piqued our interested. I nodded at the man who was paying a little too much special attention to a woman, drawing Dean’s gaze in that direction. He was equally skeeved out. We kept an eye out for another hour or so before the weird activity took another step into the creep category.
We followed out the man who we caught following the woman, all the way to a neighborhood just outside the city. We made our move as soon as the man walked up to her house.
I followed Dean up to the house, and we started to slink around, waiting for any sign of trouble. I first checked through a window near the front of the house.
“Nothing,” I said, motioning for us to move further.
He took the lead, and we came up on a window that looked into the dining room. He slowly looked inside.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me,” Dean mumbled, pulling his head back from the window.
“What?”
“Well, do you want the chance to play out your little crime show fantasies?”
I raised a brow. He sighed, shaking his head.
“That’s not— well, it is a monster in there, but not our kind of monster,” he said, tilting his head.
“It’s a human?”
He nodded. “Looks like it. Nothing supernatural that I can see. She’s passed out now, but let’s get a move on before he starts in on her.”
He started walking towards the back of the house, but I stopped him before we got to the door.
“Can— How do we do this?”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s a human. We can’t just chop his head off or exorcise him.”
“We could still stab him.”
“But should we?”
He gave me a very unamused look, waiting for me to make my point.
“Can we attempt to just— Kick his ass and leave him to deal with life in prison? Only go for the shot if it’s necessary.”
He softened. “He killed people, Y/N, does he really deserve mercy here?”
“Do you really think the prison system is mercy?” I asked, earning a slight chuckle. “I just feel weird about killing humans unless our lives are in immediate danger.”
“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. But if anything goes sideways—”
“Then you feel free to shoot him.”
He nodded curtly, then we continued to the door. He opened it carefully, and we stepped inside, checking our surroundings before we headed towards the woman in the dining room. We saw the man first, his back to us as he sat across the table from her.
“Playing house? Really?” Dean quipped, causing the man to whip around.
My gun was pulled before the man had a chance to stand up and react. He looked between us, obvious annoyance on his face.
“You’re not cops,” he stated.
Dean smirked. “No, we are much worse news for scumbags like you.”
“Now,” I started, “you can try and fail to fight your way out of here, or you can sit still while my partner here makes sure you’re sitting nice and pretty for when the cops do show up.”
Dean moved before he had a chance to formulate a response, dragging him out of the chair. The man tried to put up a fight, but it was pretty quickly silenced by means of a fist to the face. Dean left him on the ground after a few minutes and a roll of duct tape.
“Nice,” I commented, then put away my gun.
I moved to the woman at the table who was still passed out. I checked for a pulse, and when I was sure she was still breathing, I started undoing the binding that kept her to the chair. Dean called in an anonymous tip to the police station as I finished up clearing her of everything. She started waking right as I was about to try and move her to the couch.
“Hey, hey,” I said quietly, trying to give a little comfort before her panic set in. “You’re safe now, alright? You’re fine.”
Her eyes opened, and she immediately clung to me when she saw the man on the ground incapacitated.
“What happened?” she asked with a quivering voice.
“Me and my friend Dean saw this guy creeping around your house. We wanted to make sure everything was okay, and when we found out it wasn’t, we found a way in. The cops are on the way now.”
She nodded. “Thank you. Both of you.”
I glanced back at Dean with the ghost of a smile on my face. He raised his brows at me.
“Why don’t we get you to the couch?”
“You’re not staying?” she asked, still in shock.
“No, we gotta leave,” I said, helping her to the couch. “We’ll stick around for a few minutes outside till the cops get here, though.”
“Okay,” she nodded along absentmindedly as she laid on the couch.
I walked back to Dean, motioning for us to go outside. He looked back down at the man for a moment who was still passed out, then followed behind me. We got back to the Impala and waited.
“Weird to be thanked,” I said, watching the house.
He hummed. “Doesn’t happen often, that’s for sure.”
“I can’t believe we were accidentally hunting a serial killer.”
He snorted. “I’m surprised there’s not more crossover when we hunt.”
I hummed in agreement. “I also wonder why things changed so much. From the murders messy and public to being more confined in the homes.”
“Who knows,” he said, shaking his head. “Monsters make a hell of a lot more sense than people do.”
“You got that right.”
Soon enough we saw flashing lights coming down the street. We watched some officers step out of the first car, and a few more get out of an SUV.
“Is that FBI?” Dean asked, looking intently.
“I mean, we just found them a serial killer. They’ve probably been on high alert,” I said.
He nodded, and we watched for another moment as they prepared to go inside.
“Man, those vests are cool as hell in real life, too,” I commented.
“Alright, that’s enough,” he wrapped up the conversation with a laugh.
He pulled off the sidewalk at that, and started driving in the opposite direction of the cops. We decided to stay the night at the motel, neither of us awake enough to get back to Sam and Bobby. He pulled into the parking lot, and we trudged inside.
“At least we aren’t covered in monster guts this time,” I said as I fell onto the mattress.
“Right?” He chuckled. “Cool if I take the first shower?”
“Of course. I’ll be here.”
He shut the door of the bathroom, and I let out a sigh. All of the teamwork bull crap we’d been doing certainly didn’t help my case, but I could at least be thankful he didn’t want to go the bars and find a hookup. I threw my arms over my eyes and sighed.
“Hey,” I heard Dean’s voice call out, his hand on my knee.
I uncovered my eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.”
He smiled. “Go take a shower.”
“You sayin’ I need one?” I asked with a quirked brow.
“Yeah. You’re a mess,” he replied, a playful glint in his eye. “I don’t know how I sat in a car with you all day, to be honest.”
I scoffed, getting up. He moved enough for me to get by, but didn’t let me get far before he started talking again.
“Movie tonight?” he asked.
I rustled through my bag, pulling out my pajama shorts.
“Sure.”
“Any requests?”
“Uh,” I started, still looking for a clean top. “Maybe a comedy. We could use something funny.”
“Good point.” He stared for a moment as I kept digging. “You missing something?”
“I can’t find my t-shirt. I thought I packed three in here.”
“Do you want one of mine?”
I paused, considering the offer. One one hand, I wouldn’t have to wear a cami to bed and risk accidentally flashing him in my sleep. One the other, I’d be wearing his shirt and that would be a sure way to get me in my own head. The risks of the first definitely outweighed my lack of self control.
“That would be awesome.”
He walked to his own bag, pulling out a shirt that matched the one he wore and handing it to me.
“I still think wearing our outside clothes to bed worked just fine.”
“Did you ever feel rested doing that?” I asked.
He sighed dramatically. I laughed.
“Exactly my point,” I said. “Most of your well-being has to do with mindset, Dean.”
He grumbled to himself as he settled into bed, and I took that as my chance to get in the bathroom. My shower was quick, especially since Dean used up most of the hot water. I knew I should’ve gone first, but it forced me not to stay in forever. I pulled on his shirt and my shorts, trying not to let myself smile when I saw myself in the mirror wearing his clothes. I walked back into the room before I allowed myself to think too hard.
He looked at me as I walked out, a smile creeping on his face. I fought back my own to raise a brow as I lingered at the foot of my bed.
“What?”
He shrugged. “Funny seeing you in my shirt.”
“Looks better on me than it ever did on you,” I sassed with a smirk, crawling into bed.
“Can’t argue with that,” he noted, still watching me. He cleared his throat a moment later, looking at the TV screen. “Uh, I found something, I think. They had Step Brothers on demand.”
“Oh, perfect,” I said as he clicked play.
We settled into a comfortable silence for a while, and I cuddled into the duvet. After we were halfway through the movie, I gathered the blankets around me even more.
“Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?” I asked, looking over to see Dean still sitting above the covers.
“It’s a little cold,” he shrugged, then looked at me. “I can check the heater.”
I nodded as he got up and crossed the room. He held a hand out, a puzzled look on his face after a moment. He smacked it with his hand, and still felt nothing.
“Hm. Hang on,” he said, moving to the phone. “Hi, I think the heater in here’s broken.”
A pause.
“Ah, great. Okay, thanks.”
He hung up the phone, looking to me apologetically.
“They said the heating’s down in the whole place.”
I sighed. “That sucks.”
He sat back in his bed, looking at me for a moment before he spoke again.
“I know it’s been a while since we had to, but do you wanna come sleep in my bed tonight? I run hot, it might keep you warm.”
“I know. I had to sleep next to you in the summer, and it was like roasting in an oven,” I chuckled.
“See? It’ll work perfect when you’re cold,” he said, standing again.
He pulled the covers back, getting underneath and patting the mattress next to him. I cursed myself for finding this case in the first place.
“Just don’t complain if I kick you in my sleep,” I said, getting out of my bed.
He chuckled. “I’m not worried about it.”
I got into his bed, and he threw the covers over me. He then reached over top of me to grab the remote, pressing play and slinging an arm around my shoulders. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, leaning into his side.
This position put me in a delicate spot, and I found that to be true more and more with every passing minute. Every time he laughed, I felt it reverberate in his chest. Every time he talked to me, I’d look up to see his face inches from mine. Every time he moved, he held me a little tighter.
In short, Bobby was all too correct about me being screwed.
“Hey,” Dean said, voice soft. “You okay?”
“Mm?”
I looked at him, once again trying not to think about the proximity.
“You always laugh at this scene. You didn’t make a sound this time.”
“Oh,” I chuckled, looking towards the screen. “Sorry, I must be exhausted.”
“Is that all? Seems like there’s something on your mind.”
“Alright, Dr. Phil,” I joked.
“Seriously,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I think I just need some sleep,” I replied, glancing at him again with half a smile.
He quirked a brow, clearly not believing me, but willing to drop the subject.
“Okay. You know you can always talk to me?”
“I know.”
He smiled softly, then looked back at the TV as he shut it off. He settled into bed, still holding onto me. I snuggled into his side, using his chest as a pillow. I felt him breathe deep before he shut off the light.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Night, Dean.”
I woke up the next morning before he did, and decided there was little harm in remaining there. I shut my eyes, letting myself enjoy the fact that I was still snuggled against him. It gave me a moment to pretend he was mine, at least for the morning. I listened to his breathing, and wondered if he ever dreamt about me in the same way I did about him. As if on cue, his arm tightened around me a little as he stirred. His thumb brushed against my shoulder where his hand had snuck under the sleeve of the t-shirt, though I couldn’t tell if he was really awake until I felt a soft kiss against the top of my head.
At that moment, I decided it was probably best to continue pretending I was still asleep.
He stayed that way for a little while, his hand still against my shoulder, making little patterns with his thumb. It took everything in me not to move when I felt him brush a few stray pieces of hair away from my face, and even more when he let his hand linger against my cheek for when felt like a few seconds too long to be purely friendly.
I wondered if he was always like this when I wasn’t awake. Extra attentive, and sure not to wake me. Maybe that’s why I somehow remained asleep every time I fell asleep in the car that normally jostled me around like a rag doll with his driving. I wondered even more if Bobby was right about something else he’d said days ago: the unrequited feelings might not be so unrequited after all.
I nestled my head against his chest, trying to give him a warning that I was about to open my eyes, and he quickly pulled his hand away from my face. I took in a breath, blinking slowly as I let the light seep in for the second time that morning.
“Morning,” he greeted quietly, his voice still soft and raspy from tiredness.
I smiled. “Morning.”
“You hungry?” he asked, drawing my attention to him.
I nodded, leaning back a little to see him better.
“Very, and I saw a café on the way into town that looked good,” I said.
He smiled softly, shutting his eyes for a moment. Then, he yawned, finally sitting up. He turned and looked at me as I stayed laying.
“How’d you sleep? Warm enough?”
“Thanks to you, yeah,” I replied, stretching. “I’m scared to get out of bed, now, though.”
He patted my leg over the covers, “If you want food, that should be motivation enough.”
“Good point.”
I reluctantly climbed out of bed as he walked into the bathroom to get ready for the day. It was cold, but not unbearable. I decided to throw on some clothes in the room since he always took a while in the bathroom. By the time he was finished, all I needed to do was wash my face and brush my teeth, then we were off.
Breakfast was short and sweet, and we made it back to Bobby’s in record time. We strolled in the door, seeing Sam gimping around the kitchen as soon as we walked in.
“Still letting that ankle beat your ass?” I asked immediately.
He laughed. “Trust me, if I had any control over it, this wouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.”
“Maybe you just wanted out of the hunt,” I said in reply.
“Oh yeah, I loved hanging out and making Bobby bring me ice packs all day. Dream vacation, actually.”
Dean shook his head with a smirk. “You didn’t miss out on much anyway.”
“How’d it go?” Sam asked as he took a seat.
I looked to Dean who was already glancing in my direction. I shrugged.
“We stopped a serial killer, actually,” I noted.
Sam gaped. “And I ‘didn’t miss much’?”
“Just knocked him out and called the cops. Not much fun, anyways,” Dean shrugged. “Oh, we did find maybe the best pancakes I’ve ever had, though.”
I hummed in agreement enthusiastically, nodding.
“They were freaking incredible,” I said, then looked back at Sam. “And they had like, real, fresh maple syrup.”
“Unlimited stacks when you bought the platter, too,” Dean chimed in with a gleeful smile.
“You two sound like an old married couple,” Sam scoffed out with a laugh. “What, did you fall asleep together after reading the newspaper, too?”
“After watching a movie, actually,” Dean corrected, grabbing a beer from the fridge. Then, he looked at me. “Did you want anything?”
“I’m okay.”
Sam looked between us, a raised brow and an amused look on his face.
“You two actually fell asleep together?”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s what you choose to focus on?”
He smiled mischievously, then looked at Dean.
“Making moves on her, now?”
Dean swallowed, glaring at his brother with wide eyes. I furrowed my brow, about to see if I could prod Sam for information, but Bobby walked in before I had the chance.
“Hey, you two. How was the hunt?”
Dean let out a breath. “Not real eventful. I could use some sleep.”
He started walking out of the room, all of us watching as he left. Bobby turned to me first, a questioning look on his face.
“Don’t look at me,” I said with my hands up in defense. “I think Sammy pissed him off.”
“Real smooth, Sam,” Bobby commented.
Sam scoffed, shaking his head. Bobby merely sighed, going to take a seat across from Sam. I looked at them both, hands on my hips.
“Why do I get the feeling you two know something I don’t?”
“Did Dean not talk to you?” Sam asked, looking at me.
“We talk plenty.”
“That’s not what I mean. He said he was gonna talk to you when the next case was over,” he stopped, then looked at Bobby. “Case came and went, and still nothing.”
Bobby shrugged. “Out of our hands, Sam. Told you not to meddle.”
I sighed in annoyance. “You two are children, you know that?”
“Hey,” Bobby said, offended.
“I’m gonna take a walk,” I said finally, turning for the door.
The second I was halfway out, they started talking again, but I couldn’t bring myself to care too much about what they said. Clearing my mind sounded like the best option, and I was determined to do it.
I started walking around the yard, music blaring from my phone to keep me preoccupied as I watched the sky light up with a million different colors. I found an old car with a relatively clean exterior and decided to climb onto the hood. I leaned back, watching the sky as it turned darker, the stars slowly peaking out.
“Room for one more?” Dean’s voice asked from behind me.
“Come on up,” I said, scooting over a bit.
He came and sat next to me, looking up at the sky. He let out a slow breath, then looked at me.
“Taylor Swift?”
“You know it,” I replied.
He smiled, turning his head back.
“Stars are coming out,” he commented.
“They are. You should’ve seen sunset, it was gorgeous.”
He scooted closer, leaning his head against mine silently. After a moment, I let myself lean against his shoulder a little more.
“You okay, Dean?” I asked after a beat.
“Of course. Why?”
“I dunno. You just seemed a little off when we got back today.”
He sighed. “Yeah. It’s— It’s nothing.”
“You sound like me, now.”
He chuckled. “Guess we’ve got the same bad habit, huh?”
“Yeah, guess so.”
We stayed there until it got dark enough to really see the stars come out, not moving even when the chill of the night started creeping in. I readjusted my head against his shoulder, preparing myself to speak again.
“Did you really follow me out here just to look at stars?”
I felt him still. Then, after a moment, I sat up a little straighter and looked at him. He glanced back at me, clearly feeling caught out.
“Thought you could use some company.”
I raised a brow, and he smirked, looking away.
“Alright, you got me,” he said, “What gave it away?”
“First off, I’ve known you for years,” I started, nudging him in the arm. “Second, Sam and Bobby were all uppity about the fact that you apparently told Sam you had something to talk to me about.”
“I swear, he can’t keep a secret to save his life when it comes to stuff like this,” he said, rubbing at his face.
“Well, try me,” I said, unable to keep my eyes off of him. He was extra cute all flustered. “I’m a good listener.”
He let out a breath, then looked at me, scanning my face for a moment.
“I know I’ve got a certain type of reputation—”
“You?! No way,” I exclaimed with a smile, my eyes wide.
He laughed. “Exactly my point.”
“You know I don’t care about that, though. Reputations are a one-sided story.”
He hummed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
He sighed, looking back at the sky for a moment.
“I just,” he started, giving a shrug, “I feel like it— Like it makes people feel like I never want anything but a hookup, you know?”
“It makes people feel that way?”
“I’m that easy to read, huh?” he asked, looking at me again with a faint smile. “You. I mean you.”
“I gathered that much.”
He laughed softly, as did I.
“How’d you know?”
“I had suspicions fueled by Bobby. Then you kissed me and started being all affectionate when you thought I was asleep this morning.”
His eyes widened. “You were pretending to be asleep? That’s so not fair!”
“Hey, I woke up snuggled into my own personal space heater, I didn’t exactly want to be up and at ‘em.”
He rolled his eyes, tugging me into his side with an arm around my shoulders once more.
“How long has it been for you?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t even know. I guess I started realizing it a year or so ago.”
“That’s embarrassing for me, then. I knew the second I met you,” he said with a laugh.
“Dean,” I said with surprise. “It’s been half a decade! No wonder Bobby got on my ass about it before we left.”
“Well, hey, Sammy’s been on mine for a couple years. You got off easy up till now.”
I laughed. “I guess so. To be fair, we were flying under the radar for quite a while, though. The incessant flirting the past few weeks is what got us in trouble.”
“Why did you start being extra flirty, anyway?” he asked, resting his cheek against the top of my head.
“I don’t know. I guess I was, like, subconsciously seeing a window. You haven’t been doing your normal bar hookups the past few months, so I thought maybe there was a reason for it,” I paused. “Though, finding out you’ve been crushing on me for five years kind of makes me question that.”
He snorted out a laugh. “Easier to keep my mind off you that way. That sounds terrible. I just— I never thought in a million years you’d think anything of me.”
“Well, when did you realize I might?”
He sighed. “You remember a couple weeks back when we were taking down that vamp nest? You easily could’ve died, and we hugged afterwards, but when I pulled back I… I saw that look in your eyes that seemed an awful lot like how I look at you when you’re not paying attention. I wanted to kiss you, and I didn’t doubt in that moment that you would’ve let me if I had.”
I paused. “Why didn’t you?”
“I was scared. We’ve been friends for so long, and we practically do everything together. I didn’t want to ruin anything on the off chance that I was reading those signs all wrong.”
“You weren’t.”
He fell quiet for a moment. I looked up at him, and he looked back at me as I did. He quickly wet his lips, drawing my gaze downward before my eyes flicked back up to his. His lips parted momentarily. Then…
“We should get back inside. It’s getting cold out here,” he said quickly.
I nodded curtly, pulling away to let him get off the hood first. He gave me a hand, helping me down next. We walked back to the house quietly, saying soft goodnights before we went to separate rooms.
I was all settled in for the night, cozy in my bed with a book in hand. Then, I heard a knock on the door. I grumbled as I got up, annoyed that I had to leave the comfort of a mattress that wasn’t a sure cesspool of germs I didn’t want to think about. I flung the door open.
“Someone better be dying or I’m gonna kick some ass for—”
Dean’s lips crashed into mine, effectively silencing me from my rant. I melted after a few seconds of mental delay, my hands gripping onto the material of his shirt as his cradled my face. I felt him smile into the kiss, drawing my closer with arms that snuck around my waist, holding me tight. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss once he was sure that the signs were all giving him a positive response.
We finally broke apart a few minutes later, breathing heavy with pounding hearts.
“I figured I should stop letting opportunities pass me up,” he said with a nervous chuckle.
I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, good thinking.”
His eyes scanned over me, his chest still heaving.
“You wouldn’t happen to need another space heater for the night, would you?”
“I run cold, what can I say?” I replied with a smirk, and a spark in my eye.
He smiled, walking me into the room with his lips on mine, kicking the door shut behind him.
(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)
FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE
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zepskies · 7 months
Note
Hey could I please request headcanons for how Dean would react to reader texting him "she's busy" as a joke, yk kind of like
Dean: Hey baby
Reader: She's busy
I really hope this makes sense and isn't so confusing 😭😭
Ooh I think I know what you mean. 😏
Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader Word Count: 850
Imagine: Texting Dean when he's on a hunt.
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Once again, Dean sighed while he waited on his brother.
They were stopped at a 7-Eleven gas station after a hunt, but Dean had long ago filled up Baby's tank. Sam was inside, grabbing a few snacks for the road tomorrow. Supposedly.
Dean fished out his phone from his pocket and texted him.
Hey, Driving Miss Daisy. You good in there?
A couple of minutes later, Sam responded.
Yeah, just getting a few things.
Dean rolled his eyes. Right.
For half an hour? What, you taking a shit or something?
Sam's response was testy, just as Dean predicted.
Dean, give me a minute. Jesus.
Dean sighed, with a roll of his eyes. He scrolled back into his texts and found your name. He was a couple of states over from Lawrence, but still within the same timezone. You should still be awake back at the bunker.
He decided he wanted to hear your voice, let you know that he and Sam were going to catch one more night of rest here at the motel before they made the long drive back home.
But...you didn't answer when he called.
Weird. You were typically a night owl, either watching something or plugging away at your laptop. He tried texting you instead.
Hey, baby. You up?
He eventually saw the three gray dots pop up. You were typing...
She's busy.
Dean frowned. What the hell?
Had you invited someone over? Like Jody or Donna?
But neither of them would've replied like that...so he texted back.
Stop messing around.
Dean tried calling you again, but it went directly to voicemail this time. In came another text from "you."
She'll call you back, dude.
Dean's jaw ticked with annoyance. And despite himself, unease began to creep in and churn his stomach.
What the fuck is this?
She's in the shower. I'll tell her to call you back, no worries.
All right. WHO is this?
Ooh, are you the boyfriend? Yikes lol.
A deep, slow breath made it through Dean's nose. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, reminded himself that he did, in fact, love you.
Then he responded.
Babe, if you don't call me in the next 30 seconds, there's gonna be hell to pay when I get home.
Dean checked his watch and actually counted. About ten seconds passed before his phone rang with an incoming call...from you. He answered.
"Promise?" came your teasing voice. When it ended on a giggle, Dean rolled his eyes and rested his head back on the seat. He blew out a frustrated breath.
"Oh, trust and believe. You're gonna fuckin' get it this time," he said, though his lips curved on a reluctant smirk. You full on laughed at him then.
"You make it too easy," you replied.
He knew this. It wasn't the first time you'd teased him, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.
Still, he couldn't help being a bit irritated this time.
"You know, how would you like it if I did that to you?" he asked. "Wouldn't be so fucking funny then, would it?"
"...Okay. You're right. I'm sorry, baby," came your more contrite voice. But he could still hear your smile. Could imagine the way you might soothe a hand along his arm, if you were here.
"How about I make it up to you?" you offered.
That worked a slow smirk onto his face. "Yeah? What did you have in mind?"
For the next few minutes, you purred into his ear about all the things you'd been thinking of while he was gone. Daydreaming about the talents of his hands, lips, and tongue.
In particular, you reminded him about a certain birthday wish that he still hadn't claimed from a couple weeks ago, when he and Sam got wind of this hunt.
Two weeks really was too damn long, in your opinion. (He agreed with you.)
Now with a half-straining bulge in his jeans, Dean licked his lips and tightened his hand on the leather wheel of the car.
"All right. Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart," he said, deceptively breezy. As if you'd just told him you planned to make tacos for dinner.
"When are you getting home?" you asked.
He heard the tone of your voice, like black silk. It sent a tendril of heat down his spine, raising the hairs on his forearms.
"Tonight," Dean said. Deeper, a note of gravel in his words. "I'll see you tonight."
"Good." Once again, he heard the smile in your voice. "I love you."
He sighed, and raised a hand to card through his hair.
"Love you too...even though you play too fucking much," he muttered the latter bit.
Your laughter once again reached his ears, reluctantly making him smile.
He hung up with you just before Sam finally opened the passenger seat door and climbed in with two hefty grocery bags. Did he do a whole damn shopping spree in there?
...Whatever. Dean shook his head and started the car.
"Change of plan," he said. "We're heading home."
"What? Thought we were gonna catch a few hours of sleep. It's a long drive, Dean," Sam said, earning his brother's gaze.
"Yeah, well, you'll live," Dean snarked. A more devious grin spread across his face. "I've got a date."
And she's about to get punished.
The Impala's tires screeched as Dean pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.
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AN: Ha! This one was fun. 😘 Thanks for the prompt!
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Dean Winchester Imagines
Dean Winchester Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Dean W. Tag List:
@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91
@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19
@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420
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Text
In Another Life
Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Dean POV
Summary: When Dean wakes up in another life with you, he begins to question your friendship and realizes that he has loved you all along. But how can he change that? (I’m so bad at summaries please forgive me!)
Tropes: Angst, Fluff, Pregnancy Fluff, Mutual Pining
Word Count: 5.5K (I have an addiction don't judge me)
Warnings: I don’t think there’s any. I’ll say mention of gore, but for one second. Maybe one allusion to sex, but not really.  Some swearing (once or twice). Dean might be a little bit OOC.
Note: This is told from Dean’s perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. This is my first time writing for Supernatural, so please be gentle. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
Internal monologue is in italics
*********************************************
Dean couldn’t remember what happened last night only that the bed beneath him felt like an old friend welcoming him home. The night before ghosted across his mind, hovering just out of reach, memories of a dream barely forming from a fog of uncertainty. He fades in and out of sleep in a mist that soothes his aching body.
“Dean?” A soft voice whispers.
Dean groans and squeezes his pillow tighter against his chest to avoid waking up. He didn’t care what time it was, all he knew was that he didn’t want to get out of bed.
“Leave me alone Sammy.” He grumbles into the pillow.
“Dean.” The voice says again, this time with a happy laugh that sounds nothing like Sam.
His eyes open,  blinded by the sunlight that streams through the large windows on the other side of the bedroom.
Wait. Where am I?
“Dean we have to get up or we’ll be late for the party.”
Dean looks towards the voice and  realizes that he’s not squeezing a pillow, it’s you. You’re facing him, hair fanning out over the pillow beneath your head, eyes wide and crinkled around the edges, smiling at him.
“Y/n?” Dean says it hesitantly, arms tightening around your waist.
“No no no. Don’t look at me like that. I will not be roped into staying in bed. We can’t be late for your mom’s birthday party and you promised you would come with me to pick up the cake.”
“But-“ Dean couldn’t remember how he got here, only that something feels wrong.
“No buts.” You giggle, before leaning forward and kissing him.
Dean freezes, confused, but the soft movement of your mouth against his erases any uncertainty. He eases his face forward nudging his nose into yours to deepen the kiss. Dean doesn’t know how he got here, but all he knows is how natural it feels to be here with you. Before he can stop himself he rolls you over your back, bringing a moan from you that vibrates though his skull. His fingertips blaze a trail along your hips.
“Easy there tiger.” You smile up at him. “You don’t want to crush Zeppelin.”
Dean’s confusion makes you laugh, before he finally looks down between you. “You’re pregnant.” He whispers, noting the protrusion of your abdomen.
“I mean I think so.” You laugh in a way that makes his heart jump and buckle.
Dean lays his hand down on the smooth skin where your shirt pushes up. Why can’t I remember this? He thinks to himself confused, searching for memories he can’t recall.
“I believe we’ve talked about it several times. And it was you who decided to stay up until 4 am painting the nursery.” Your hands gently brush his hair back out of his face. “You did such a good job baby.”
Dean reaches for the memory, but he can’t seem to
 grasp it. “I did?”
“Mhmm. Look at you, you’re still covered in paint.” You smile wider picking up the hand that rests on your belly to show him the splashes of cream colored paint flecked along the back of his hand. And as you do he notices the ring on your left hand.
“Are we married?” Dean tries again to grasp for his memory but comes up empty handed. He strokes his thumb along the back of yours examining the ring.
I should remember that. How could I forget that we’re married?
“Feigning amnesia will not make me stay in bed with you. No matter how cute you are.”  You gently lay your hand against his chest pushing him back so you can sit up in bed.
Dean can’t help but notice how beautiful and carefree you look. Hair catching fire in the light from the window, t-shirt brushing against the top of your thighs, and how you smile at him with so much love it makes something catch in his chest.
“Dean?” You suddenly look worried. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “I’m just tired I guess.”
His cell phone rings where it sits on the nightstand, drawing his gaze to the alarm clock and car magazine that sit on top of the dark wood.
“You better answer that. It’s probably Sam asking us where we are.” You kiss him on the cheek, before standing up and walking into the closet on the edge of the bedroom.
Dean watches you go, his eyes tracing your familiar figure as you leave the room, before reaching for his phone.
“Hey where are you guys? Jessica’s freaking out because you haven’t brought the cake.” Sam’s  voice triggers another memory for Dean, but this one remains allusive.
“Sam?”
“Dean.”
“Um.”
“Dean are you hungover or something?”
“No. Sorry, just running a little late-“ Dean apologizes looking around the bedroom. It’s small, filled with light from the open window that shows a quaint backyard. The dresser on the wall opposite the bed has photos of him and you, photos of Sam and Jessica, and a photo of Mary and John Winchester. Dean’s eyes stop on the photo as a memory triggers at the back of his mind, but Sam interrupts the thought.
“Well come on. Dad’s not going to like it if you guys miss mom’s birthday-“
“Dad?” Deans memory spikes again and he sees his father sitting in the drivers seat humming along to a song on the radio. Another memory flashes, Dean and his father standing behind the impala with Sam looking into the trunk.
“Yes dad. Your boss. Our father. Dean are you okay? Y/n said that you were painting the nursery last night all by yourself. You could have told me. I would have come over to help-“
“I’m alright Sammy.”
But he doesn’t feel alright, something is definitely wrong.
“Okay well hurry up. I’ll see you when you get here.”
Dean hangs up the phone and sits on the end of the bed with it in his hand.
You walk back into the room wearing a green sundress. Your hair is soft again, falling over your shoulders in a way that makes Dean’s breath catch, effortlessly beautiful.
A memory of you wearing jeans and a leather jacket washes across his mind of you standing with him at the back of the Impala reaching in for a shotgun while he knocks your hand away.
“Dean?” You walk towards him, this time standing between his legs. You place your hands on his shoulders and he can’t help but turn to look at the wedding ring. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because if you’re not feeling well we don’t have to go today. I can call your dad. But I just thought your really wanted to go. You hate missing your mother’s birthday. It’s usually you that drags me out of bed.” You trail your hand against the side of his face with a worried expression, to turn his gaze back on you.
Someone deep in the back of his mind the expression triggers something and he sees a memory of you. Except you’re holding a machete in your right hand that drips blood on the floor but, the look of worry in your eyes the same.
Where could that be from?
“I don’t know.”
“Hey.” You whisper, sitting down in his lap and his arms can’t help but secure you there, burying his head in your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’m scared too.”
“What?” Dean raises his head from your shoulder
“We’ve talked about this. You’re going to be a great dad. And honestly we probably won’t know what we’re doing, but that’s how everyone starts.” Your fingertips drag through his hair in a soothing motion.
Dean tries again to grasp at earlier memories of this life, early memories of you, but all he sees are motel rooms. Motel rooms where you sleep on a pullout couch in a corner and where Sam sits  at a small table shuffling through endless books and papers.
Why?
Dean can’t understand, because that life seems so different than this one. This one where you look softer and happier, where you share a bed and are married. He thinks about the other memories, where your smile is not as bright, where there’s a hardness to your face, but still just as beautiful. Another memory of him and you sitting in a bar drinking beer, another of you laughing at something he said and hitting him, and finally one of you reading in bed while Dean sits at a motel table and watches you softly turn the pages.
Deep down Dean knows in his bones that in those memories  you and him are just friends, but he allows himself to indulge in your touch, enjoying the comfort that comes with being with you.
“It’s not about the baby.” Dean sighs. “I just can’t remember how we got here.”
“Here?”
“Married.” His arms tighten around your waist not wanting to let go. You’re the only thing he recognizes in all of this.
“Um well, my car broke down and I brought it to a mechanic shop where I met a devilishly handsome man with green eyes.” You smile at him. “Who refused to let me leave until he bought me dinner.”
Dean stares at you.
“Practically kidnapped me. But you were so charming I couldn’t resist.” You lean closer to whisper in his ear. “Not to mention sexy covered in grease and wearing a meatloaf t-shirt.” You kiss him before he can respond, and he loses himself in you. The way you hold him close, the way your fingers work up into his hair to secure him right where he wants to be, and the way you feel in his arms wipes away any uncertainty. “As much as I’d like to go back to bed with you, we’re going to be late.” You whisper against his lips.
And Dean allows himself to be dragged away.
*********************************************
“Did you remember to order the parts for that ‘76 Camaro right?” John Winchester asks Dean, but Dean’s not focused, he can’t focus on anything.
The drive over to his parents house was different. Instead of sitting on the opposite side of the front seat of the impala, you had sat in the middle, holding his hand and leaning against his shoulder, humming softly.
It made driving for Dean especially difficult. The memories of you in his car that came across his mind while he drove distracted him.
You  in the backseat shouting something at Dean while he completely ignored you rolling his eyes, you sitting in the front seat with a map trying to direct him while Sam slept in the back, you singing to “The Eye of the Tiger” with him while Sam tried to close his ears, and finally you asleep in the front seat with Dean’s jacket draped over you.  That last one stayed in his mind. He liked how you looked wrapped up in his jacket, breath fogging the glass window, while Dean tried his best to drive smooth and slow so you wouldn't wake.
But you in the front seat holding his hand and leaning against his shoulder while humming along to the music blew all of those memories out of the water. All Dean wanted to do was exist there and then.
When you both arrived at his parents home Dean tried not to be disappointed. Now he was too distracted watching you talk and laugh with Jessica and his mother across the room to listen to anything his father said.
“Dean are you listening?” His dad tries again.
“Huh?” The cold beer in Dean’s hand drips condensation against his skin. He turns to look back at his father.
Another memory of him momentarily distracts Dean, this one of John leaving Dean and Sam in a motel room so he can go hunting.
Did we ever go hunting? Dean tries to think of a time where they went out into the woods to shoot some deer, but comes up empty handed. A few memories of him and Sam toting guns rise to the surface, but he can't remember why they had them.
"You'll have to excuse Dean, he's still mentally painting the nursery." Sam snorts into his beer.
"Shut up."
"Don't tease him Sam. I'm sure that Jessica will have you turn your office into a nursery before you know it." You appear on Dean's left, raising his arm around you so you can lean into his side. Dean automatically tightens his arm around your shoulders.
"Don't joke about that y/n."
"Uh-huh. You can't hide in that big fancy law firm forever. She'll find you." You smile up at Dean in a way that makes his heart feel like its stopped beating.
Why can't I remember any of this life?
"She's right." Jessica comes over to kiss Sam on the cheek.
"I do not hide at the firm-" Sam rolls his eyes.
"You do."
Mary Winchester comes over. "Are you fighting at my birthday party?"
Dean's father puts his arm around his mother, pulling her into his chest with a smile he hides by taking a swig of beer.
"No mom, we're not-"
"Sounded like a fight to me." You whisper to Dean, and he can't help but smile at you.
"It's not a fight y/n!"
"Don't yell at my wife Sammy." Dean says before he can stop himself. He thinks about how natural it sounded coming out of his mouth.
His wife. You're his wife. He thinks and presses a kiss to the top of your head that makes you sigh into his chest.
"I'm not yelling at y/n." 
"Sam we're just teasing you." Jessica laughs, placing her hand against his chest. Dean notices the ring on her own finger, and a memory of Jessica rises in the back of his head. Jessica standing in the darkness of an apartment, while Dean holds on to the front of Sam's shirt, her eyes wide and confused.
But it vanishes when you wince in his arms. Dean's eyes are drawn back down to you, worry spiking in his chest.
"I'm okay." You whisper. "Just think Zeppelin is hitting his limit."
"You guys go on home. I think that John has grilled Dean about the garage enough." Mary smiles, before taking a step forward to hug you. Dean is disappointed when you leave his arms, but smiles despite, watching you with his mother.
"Let the little linebacker get some rest." John hugs you.
"Of course. Thank you so much for letting us come. I'm sorry we were late." Dean watches the subtle blush of your cheeks as you apologize.
"I'm sure it's my son's fault." Mary moves to hug Dean.
As soon as she does Dean is overwhelmed by a surge of sadness as another memory of his mother rises in the back of his mind that he can't quite bring into focus.
"Mom?" Dean whispers.
"Hmm?" She looks up at him confused. "We'll see you on Tuesday for dinner. Okay?"
"Okay."
"We love you."
"I love you too mom." But something sticks in his chest when he says it.
“Don’t forget to order the parts.” John says shaking Dean’s hand.
“Sure.”
“Bye Jessica. Let me know if you need us to bring anything for Tuesday.” Dean watches you hug her and just for a moment Dean sees Sam holding a bouquet of flowers at a gravesite.
What is happening?
*********************************************
When Dean pulls the Impala into the driveway of your home something still feels wrong. After saying goodbye to everyone he still can’t shake the feeling that he forgot something. The radio plays "Black Dog" filling the silence as the car idles in front of the house.
“Dean!”
“What?” He turns to look at where you sit beside him in the front seat.
“Feel.” You grab one of his hands from the wheel and place it against your abdomen an excited smile gracing your cheeks. “Little future drummer."
The kicking against the palm of his hand makes Dean smile, leaning forward into where you sit beside him. Happiness breaks in his chest like the crest of a wave. He can't remember a moment in his life where he felt this happy, this much love for someone.
"Y/n?"
"Mhmm."
"I love you." Dean refuses to believe that he has said it to anyone else ever in his life, can't remember wanting to say it to anyone else, can't believe that he will ever want to say it to anyone else.
"I love you too."
He leans down to kiss you, hand still against your stomach, drawing you further into him to breathe you in. Everything else vanishes, just the feel of your soft lips against his, the tickle of your hair against his cheeks, and the pulse of his son's kicks against the palm of his hand.
But then it's all gone.
*********************************************
"Dean!" Sam's voice jars him into reality, his eyes opening to see his brother standing over him, one hand on his shoulder. "Dean are you okay?"
"What happened?" Dean sits up with a groan, ignoring the headache that throbs behind his eyes.
His eyes adjust to the dim light. He's in a long room where wooden tables sit every few feet covered in dust and machinery blanketed with old sheets. The musty smell fills his nose, replacing the smell of your shampoo that lingers under his nose from when you were in the front seat with him.
"Djinn ambushed you. Y/n and I got here as soon as we could."
"Y/n?" The memories of the dream strike him in the chest all over again, merging with memories of reality. "Where is Y/n?"
You enter the room out of breath, blood flecked across your cheeks and holding a baseball bat that drips a dark liquid onto the concrete floor. “It’s dead.”
"You sure?" Sam asks raising an eyebrow.
"There's enough brain matter on the floor in there for a zombie buffet." You shoulder the baseball bat. "So yeah, it's dead."
Dean’s eyes trace your body taking in the leather jacket and dark t-shirt his memory flashing to the green sundress and beautiful smile. You’re half-smiling, but Dean can see the hardness in your face again and understands where it comes from.
She wasn’t a hunter. He thinks of the dream version of you, where your hair fell in soft curls, but now it’s tied back in a ponytail. His eyes drop to your abdomen expecting more, but disappointment flicks in his heart. It wasn’t real.
“Dean are you okay?” You step closer to him. The smile has dropped now, replaced with a worried expression.
He flashes back to when you asked him that in the dream, when you sat on his lap and tangled your hands in his hair, sighing into his mouth as he kissed you.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
He traces your face again but every time he does he only sees the other version of you, the version that’s in love with him, married to him. And he knows that here you are just his friend.
“Yeah.” He says again standing up. “Let’s get out of here.”
The ride back to the motel is silent. Dean doesn’t put on any music, too afraid that it’ll remind him of the memory of you and him in the front seat while his son kicked against his hand. Instead, all he can think of was how happy he was in the other life, how in love with you he was-
Dean knew that it wasn’t just a fantasy, that he really is in love with you, but now after seeing how everything could be, it weighed on his chest. Each time you looked at him he wanted to pull you close to him, hug you, kiss you, but he knew you would pull away. Because this version of you was not his.
“I’m going to go to that diner on the corner. You guys want something?” Sam looks around the room expectantly, but Dean doesn’t look up from the carpet.
“Sure.” Dean hears you respond. “Maybe just a burger and a piece of pie. Preferably apple but I'll take cherry if they have it."
“Okay. Dean?” Sam asks again.
Dean shakes his head. He can’t eat. Not now.
Sam hesitates at the door worried. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t want anything.” Dean snaps.
“Yeesh don’t bite my head off.” Sam throws you a shrug before leaving.
Dean is aware that it’s just the two of you now, the memory of the two of you in bed surfaces making him tighten his grip on the edge of the blanket beneath him.
“Dean?” You whisper.
“What?” His voice comes out harsher than he means it to.
“What’s wrong? You can tell me.”
“Nothing is wrong.” But he can’t look at you, not when he knows he'll look up and you won't be pregnant and not when the other version of you still has a hold of his heart.
“Dean you’re my best friend I know when something’s wrong. Plus you haven’t been able to look at me since you woke up and you never say no to food.”
“I’m fine.”
“Dean-“
“Just leave me alone damnit!” He snaps at you, able to raise his gaze from the floor for one second. Dean immediately feels bad, watching the pain in your eyes as he pushes you away. But he lowers his eyes to the carpet once more to avoid your gaze.
You sigh, but don’t get angry with him. “If you don’t want to tell me that’s fine. I'll just leave you alone then.”
And as soon as you leave to take a shower he feels the loss of you beside him.
He listens to the sound of the shower, feels the passing of time, but he does not move. The memories of the dream rise and fall, replacing the darkness of the hotel room with brilliant light. The memory of the sun catching your hair on fire as you laid next to him in bed tracing your fingertips along his jaw, the memory of you in the front seat of the Impala leaning against him and humming while you hold his hand, the memory of the party where he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you tightly into his chest, and finally the memory of the last kiss you shared in the front seat of the Impala each dance across his mind. He acutely feels the loss of your body against his, the loss of your lips, and finally the sound of your voice telling him you love him while his son kicked against his hand.
“Dean?”
He looks up at you. You look softer than you did. The blood is gone from your cheeks, your hair falls over your shoulders still wet from the shower, effortlessly beautiful, he decides. You’re wearing one of his old t-shirts that he gave you and a pair of sweatpants. It does something to him, watching you stand there in his shirt. It hangs past your waist like a dress, making you look smaller than you are. The smell of your shampoo wafts out of the bathroom, something familiar that makes his throat tight.
“You know when that Djinn got me a few months ago it threw me for a loop too.” You say softly leaning against the doorway of the bathroom. “Everything felt so real. It was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t.”
Dean remembers when that happened. When you vanished out of the blue while checking out a case alone and he and Sam tore apart the small town looking for you. Dean remembers how worried he was, how desperate he was to find you.
I loved her then too. Dean realizes looking at you. How did I not know?
Dean remembers the aftermath, when you woke up and wouldn’t look at him. How your gaze was almost haunted and how he had to carry you out of there because you couldn’t move. He remembers you laying in bed and turning away from him and Sam when they had asked you what was wrong and the following day when you acted like nothing happened.
“What did it make you see?” Dean whispers, noting the way you shift back and forth on your feet. He hadn't seen you nervous before, seen you face down demons and vampires without batting an eye, but now you looked vulnerable.
You look down at your feet.  “If I say it you can’t laugh.”
“I won’t.”
“Dean, I’m serious.”
“I promise I won’t laugh.” He watches the tension in your shoulders.
Why would she be afraid to tell me? We talk about everything.
“It was us.”
“What?” Shock tugs at his heart and for a second he thinks that he heard you wrong.
“It was us. We were married. We had 2 kids. My brother was still alive and my parents were talking to me again. I was happy there. It was hard to come back. Not that I’m not happy, but just that it’s hard to think you’ve lived a life that doesn’t exist. Especially one so different than all of this.” Dean watches you take in a deep breath, tapping your finger against your bicep, avoiding his eyes. “That was when I realized I was in love with you.” 
Dean’s heart stops beating. “What did you just say-“
You look up and smile tightly. “It’s when I realized I was in love with you. That’s why I was so messed up. I didn't know how to-“
Sam chooses that exact moment to walk in loaded with bags of food. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing much.” Dean watches you easily shift your expression to hide what just happened, smiling at Sam as if you hadn’t said the one thing that Dean had been trying to say to you since he woke up. “Just trying to convince Dean to let me work on Baby. I think I’m wearing him down.”
Dean had never realized how much of a good liar you were until this moment, sure he had seen you pretend to be a government agent, but this was different.
“Like that’ll happen.” Sam hands you a bag of food before turning to look at Dean. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Dean watches you pull out the burger, stunned by your confession.
You place the burger next to him on the bed. “Eat this. It’ll help.”
“But-“ He looks up at you, wanting to finish the conversation.
“I promise I’m not that hungry Dean. I’d rather have the pie. Unless you’re going to fight me for it?” You smile raising an eyebrow.
Dean doesn’t understand why you’re acting like you didn’t just say you were in love with him. He gazes at you, searching your face. For a second he sees the mask slip, but before he can comment it’s gone.
“No I won’t.” He whispers.
“Good.” You turn to the made-up pull out couch and fold your legs underneath you with the slice of pie balanced on your knee, before reaching into your bag for a worn paper back.
Dean sits there watching you turn the pages. She loves me. The memory of you in his dream in the front seat of the Impala whispering it to him doesn’t hold the same weight because now all he can hear is you saying it here, now.
Dean can’t move. He wished Sam would leave again. He wished Sam would leave so he could bring you into his chest and kiss you, so he could tell you the one thing he wished he said ages ago.
But he doesn't. All he does is sit there and watch you read.
*********************************************
A few hours after Sam and you have fallen asleep Dean lays in his bed and stares up at the ceiling. He can hear your soft breaths against the pillow, the crinkle of the sheets as you move in your sleep. Usually he allowed himself to fall asleep listening to you, but tonight all it did was keep him awake. Each time he shut his eyes he saw the memory of you in bed with him burning against his eyelids and each time he shut his eyes he heard the real you telling him that you loved him.
Finally, he can't take it anymore.
Dean gets up and makes his way over to the pull-out couch, pausing once to move the paperback book out from under your head. It wasn't the first time that you'd fallen asleep reading, and Dean thought it was cute.
He slides into the bed behind you, gently touching your shoulder to wake you as quietly as possible.
"Hmm." You inhale softly.
"Y/n." Dean whispers.
He watches you turn towards him, eyes blinking in the darkness to rouse yourself from sleep. You hair is flared out over the pillows, eyes hazy. “Dean what are you-“
Dean moves his arm to your waist before pulling you flush into his chest, lips finding yours. The memories of the kiss in his dream are everywhere, but none of them compare to this. You sigh into his mouth, bringing your hands into his hair. Dean breathes you in. You still taste like apple pie, body soft against his, lips smooth and welcoming.
“I love you too.” He whispers against your mouth, eyes finding yours in the darkness of the hotel room.
Your smile breaks him. “It made you see us didn’t it?”
“How did you know?”
“The way you looked when you came out. The way you looked at me. I think it’s the same way I looked at you when I woke up." You brush back his hair and Dean can't help but lean forward into your touch. "What did it make you see?"
“We were married. You were pregnant and I was working at a garage. My parents were alive. Jessica was alive-“
“Oh Dean.” You cup his cheeks with a sorrowful expression, before brushing your lips against his. “I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter now.” Dean brings you into his chest, laying on his back so you can rest your head on his heart. His hand slowly traces up and down your spine. You both lie there for a few moments. The subtle beat of your heart soothing the sadness that rises with the memory of his mother and father. Your hand gently rests against his shirt, fingers curling into the soft fabric.
“I missed you.” He hears you whisper into his chest.
“What?” Dean doesn't understand. "Where did I go?"
“Not like that. I know that it sounds stupid, but we were so happy in the dream. It made me miss you, miss this.” He feels you rub your face into the front of his shirt.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Dean you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to lose any of this.” You prop yourself up look him in the eye. “I’m happy here with you and Sam. Y’all are my family and I didn’t want to jeopardize that just because I’m in love with you.”
“Did you think I would have made you leave if you told me that?” Dean can’t help but feel hurt. Sure it would have been awkward for a little bit, but I’d never do that to y/n.
“Not made me leave, more phase me out. It would have made all of this awkward and-“ He watches the weight settle on your shoulders as you press your forehead into the space between his collar bone and neck. “I’ve lost so many things. I didn’t want to lose you.”
Dean squeezes you to him. “You’re not going to lose me sweetheart.” He traces a fingertip under your chin to raise your face to his. “I love you. And even if I didn’t, you’re my family too. I wouldn’t make you leave just because it was a little awkward. We’ve all been through too much together for that.” Dean’s thumb rubs soft circles against your cheek.
“I love you too.” You whisper, the soft smile gracing your lips  mirrors the memory from the dream, but this time it fills him with warmth and comfort, because this time he knows it’s real.  It's not some Djinn messing with his head, it's you. You lean upwards to kiss him gently, while Dean weaves his hand through you hair to secure you to him.
But then you pull away, your smile slipping into a smirk. “So when you say family, are you saying you see me as a sister or a cousin? Because, I don’t know how things are in Kansas, but where I'm from, that's kind of a red flag.“
Dean sighs loudly. Before he rolls you over and pins you to the bed, pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss.
“Oh. So as a sister-“ You joke.
“You are one of the most annoying people on the planet.”
“I know. It’s why you love me.” You trace his lips with your index finger, gazing up at him the same way the dream version of you did.
Dean feels warmth trail behind your touch. “One of the reasons at least.”
But just as he leans to kiss you again-
“If you guys don’t shut up I’m not going to get any sleep.” Sam grumbles from his bed. “I could have told you two idiots, that you loved one another and it would have taken five seconds.”
“You don’t have to eavesdrop-“ You say glaring over in the direction of Sam’s bed.
“Kinda hard not to when you guys are making out. LOUDLY. I might add.”
“Gonna have to get used to it Sammy.” Dean snorts, before pushing your hair back behind your ear and drawing your gaze back to his face.
“Next time you guys are getting your own room.” Sam continues. “That way I can get some sleep.”
“Doesn’t seem very economical.” You say, but you’re gazing up at Dean again with the smile that makes him feel like he’d swallowed the sun. “I love you.” Your voice is barely a whisper.
“I love you too.” Dean leans down once more to capture your lips against his, erasing all semblance of everything else, except the feel of your body beneath him and the warmth that surges with each breath as the dream of you becomes a reality.
*********************************************
Thank you so much for reading!
733 notes · View notes
wearywinchester · 8 months
Text
Soft Touch
Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: Comforting Dean might seem like a hefty task, but all he needs is you.
Requested by Anonymous: “request!! can you write something where the reader comforts dean after a bad day, it doesn’t have to be major trauma or anything just dean needing physical touch and not knowing how to ask for it and the reader making sure he’s comfortable and okay and just a bunch of fluff and comfort”
Warnings: angst, language, injury, alcohol, fluff
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The bunker was fairly quiet, near completely. Sam was tucked away in his room, and if you had to guess, he was probably doing research. It’s what he’d been doing in the library for a little while, sitting there quietly with a few lore books and his laptop before he gathered his stuff with a polite goodnight and went to his room.
Sam Winchester is the only person you know that decompresses after a hunt by researching for the next.
You heard the sound of his tv when you walked by, muffled and soft. The sound of your footfalls accompanied it, a soft set of taps on the cold floor as you wandered about in search of your beau.
He hadn’t been in bed at all, his side still made. It wasn’t uncommon for him, not really, but he’d had a rough day.
It was a seven hour drive back to the bunker, and he was damn near running on fumes because he hadn’t slept well the night before. The motel bed was not doing any favors, stiff and thin enough to feel the springs dig into your muscles. The dip in the center made an uncomfortable pit, and he was just about ready to snag you and sleep in the Impala. He couldn’t sleep nearly as well without you.
He was sore from the hunt, muscles aching and begging for a bath, but he wasn’t the biggest fan of them. He’d obtained a myriad of injuries, none serious or major, but the combination was a melting pot of misery when you put them together. Not to mention the constant state of war he’s in with his own mind.
The halls still smelled like dinner, pizza and a mix of burgers, something quick and easy. None of you had the energy to do more than takeout.
You heard the quiet hum of the lights lining the hall, and your sigh upon seeing an empty library, and an empty map room. The bathroom was empty too, and the Dean cave he’d set up. There was no note on the desk by the bed, so that was an indication he was still there.
But your search wasn’t very lengthy much to your relief, a simple glance into the kitchen revealing just the one you were looking for.
His back was to you as he stood at the sink. He’d discarded his shirt after dinner, a habit he’d gotten into as of late. He got hot very easily, and it was a simple and more comfortable solution. Besides, you wouldn’t complain about that.
The muscles in his back tensed and moved as he washed the dishes in the sink, those damn hotdog pajama pants sitting on his hips.
His hair was a bit tangled and mussed, brushing against the nape of his neck and curling outward. He’d been growing it out, same for his beard, a mixture of not having as much time to handle it and wanting to try something new.
You saw a half drank glass of whiskey on the table as you passed it, the uncapped bottle sitting next to it.
He knew you were there, heard the soft pattern of your footfalls, not to mention he could sense your presence regardless of hearing you or not. But it was confirmed when you reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear.
He pulled his gaze from the plate in his hand, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Thought you’d run off for good,” you teased, your eyes meeting his.
His chuckle was soft and sweet, accompanied by a shake of his head. “Ain’t runnin’ off without taking you with me, sweetheart.”
“Well, ain’t that a relief?”
You notice the grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth, tired but surely present.
He rinses off that last plate, sticking it in the drying rack on the counter before wiping his hands dry on the tea towel draped over the sink. He turns to you, hands settling on your hips before they glide forwards, snaking themselves around your waist and tugging you closer. They were warm and calloused, the perfect combination.
You rested your hands on his chest, his skin warm and radiating to you. Your gaze shifts to the scrape on his shoulder, fading into a cut. He hadn’t tended to it, not really, nor did his mess with the one on his bicep and just above his beard on his cheekbone.
“How about we get you cleaned up, then head to bed?” You say, tipping your head back to look at him.
He took one of his hands from where it rested around you to settle by your cheek and tangle with the hair at the nape of your neck.
“You sayin’ I didn’t do a good job?” He asks, and you just barely saw the raise of his brow under the hair that fell over his forehead.
“Pretty much,” you answer with a shrug, a smile tugging at your lips at the sight of his frown and crease between his brows.
He tugged you in closer abruptly and you made a delighted noise of surprise, moving your hands from his chest to wrap up around his shoulders. His nose bumped against yours, the brush of his lips gentle before he they pressed a kiss on your own. It was lingering and sweet, borderline steamy before he parted, only to press one, two, three more to your lips.
“Trying to distract me?” You ask, furrowing your brows with a soft smile as you look at him.
He chuckles as he shakes his head, brushing your hair out of your face. “Oh sweetheart, I wouldn’t have to try to do that.”
You bite the inside of your cheek to hide your smile, instead rolling your eyes as you wriggle from his arms.
“Sit down, Winchester,” you say, walking towards the cupboard.
You hear his sigh as you grab the first aid kit, freshly replenished a few days ago. You hear that sigh but when you turn around, sure enough he’s taken his seat at the kitchen table, swirling his unfinished glass of whiskey in his hand before gulping it down and pouring another.
Now it’s your turn to sigh, head shaking softly and he most definitely heard it.
You open the lid to the kit, pondering over what you wanted before it came to mind. You snagged a package of an alcohol wipe, and the small bottle of antiseptic, grabbing a small stack of gauze.
None of his injuries were severe, but it’s no good for any wound, superficial or not, to have dirt trapped in it while it tries to heal.
Anyone knew that. Anyone except Dean Winchester.
Well, it’s not that he didn’t know, he very much did. He just lacked a certain caring when it came to himself. And by lacking, he didn’t care at all. He was always that way. He cared enough to eat and bathe, to brush his teeth and at least have you brush his hair, though that was purely because he secretly not so secretly enjoys how it feels. But in actuality, he didn’t care much for himself, didn’t see a reason to.
In fact, the only reason he cared even a little bit was so he could be around to protect you and Sam, didn’t have anything to do with himself.
“No more liquor, De,” you sigh, capping the bottle and pushing it away from his reach.
You didn’t fail to notice the way he looked at you for it, brows furrowed and gaze narrowed. And you didn’t fail to notice the way those dimples formed by the corners of his mouth, barely visible through his beard but you knew with one hundred percent certainty that they were there.
That was his form of self care. A bottle of whiskey or a six pack of beer. But that was no form of caring at all, no form of soothing.
You simply lift your hand and run it over his head, caressing over his hair, your thumb brushing over his cheek softly. Your hand drops to rest under his chin, tipping his head back to drop a soft kiss to his lips, something that made your words sound not so bad to him now. So much so that he made a noise of discontent when you pulled away to tend to those wounds of his.
He didn’t care about a damn scrape or two, he wanted you.
You sigh as you tear open a couple packets of alcohol wipes, plucking one from its package and unfolding it.
You started with his arm, holding his bicep in your hand, cumbersome at best because he’d become quite muscular as of late. You noticed the slight twitch he’d made in reaction to the cold alcohol stinging the open scrape, but it’d barely shown on his face, hard for anyone but you to tell.
You cleaned away the excess dirt and blood with gentle swipes. You set down the dirtied wipe on the table, reaching for the gauze and bottle of antiseptic. You squeezed a generous amount on, returning your grip on his arm as you dabbed it directly on the scrape this time.
He may think you were being dramatic, you knew it did. It was only a few scrapes, the most superficial of injuries you can get. The equivalent of a paper cut in the world of hunting. But you were all about caring for your big, strong tough guy even if he couldn’t give a damn about any of it when it came to himself.
“You should really take better care of yourself after hunts, De,” you say, beginning to repeat the process on his shoulder.
“I ain’t gonna die from a couple of scrapes and scratches, sweetheart,” he says, as careless as ever, his tone lighthearted.
You exhale a huff, tossing the second wipe down in a more obvious show of your frustration.
“Would you want me to say that about myself?” You ask, brow raised in challenge.
“Y/n,” he said sternly.
You could tell he was angry, or the beginnings of it. His jaw was tense, along with his shoulders. You could feel it under your palm, a noticeable difference. Not to mention the look on his face alone was enough of a giveaway.
That crease between his brows never left, only deepened by your words. Those dimples were still adorning the corners of his mouth unable to be masked by the beard that framed his jaw. Nor could it hide the subtle flush in his cheeks, tinged with anger and frustration.
To him, the comparison was incomparable. So ridiculously, unbelievably able to be compared because he was not in the same bracket as you. He’ll, he’d die for you, and has. He’s sold his damn soul to a low life demon just so you would be okay, and he’d do it again in a heartbeat. He’d rather get torn to shreds by a werewolf, become some wendigo’s dinner, be made into some monsters toy than have so much as a hand laid on you.
The comparison between you and him was one he could not make. Because you were the world, a radiant being and far better than the angels he’s seen in his lifetime and he knows it for a fact. You were his world and he was simply a fleck in it. He’s always felt that way, and the whole idea has been putting a strain on him for as long as he can remember.
He always hated that you were a hunter, because dammit it scared him more than anything. He’s seen what monsters do to people, innocent lives. He’s seen what the life does to those who enter it, how it changes them, he’s one of them. He’s seen the sheer trauma it’s put you through, the agony and pain. He sees it with every case, every hunt that’s added to the endless chart.
If he thinks about it for too long, it’ll drive him insane, push him over the edge of emotion and into a fit of rage. And that, that reaction alone only adds to the self hatred he feels. To be an angry person when you’re so delicate and everything he wishes he could be. It spirals into every avenue.
He couldn’t bring himself to put caring about a scrape on himself at the same level as an injury on you. He couldn’t do it. Even so much as a paper cut on you would have him furrowing his brows. It’d need something as simple as a bandaid and he’d be sure to put it on, giving you hell if you tried to brush it off.
No matter the severity, if you were hurt in any way, shape, or form, it mattered to him.
He didn’t give a damn about himself, he gave a damn about you.
He didn’t say anything else, and you sighed, softening your glare and settling your hand on his other cheek.
You noticed the way he leaned into your touch, however, his hair falling in the direction it so pleased as he tilted his head and tipped it back, his eyes falling closed.
Dean Winchester was rough, tough and rugged. There was no denying that. He was stereotypical, and put up every front he felt he needed to. But when everything is stripped away, when it came down to it, Dean was a man of comfort. That’s really all he’s ever wanted, no matter how much he refused to say it.
But it’s a trait that’s guarded with extra security, one he tries to keep on lock down from you even, but he can’t keep that from his source of comfort. He’d be foolish to think he’d be able to keep that from you.
The subtle flush in his cheeks had accentuated his freckles, soft flecks kissing along his skin, almost comically delicate in contrast to the tough persona he puts on. Especially the way his lashes curled over top of them when his eyes were closed.
You were gentler this time if that were possible, gentler in comparison to the other two you just tended to. His skin was angry and red around the uneven scrape, some of it smudged lightly with blood and some not.
His beard felt prickly and soft all the same against your palm, the longest he’s ever let it grow. His hair fell over his eyes, glimmers of green breaking through as he opened them to look at you.
He didn’t say anything, just looked. His gaze is softer than it was moments before, looking at every detail he can soak in as if he’d never see them again. Quiet as he admired. His expression was unreadable, yet so openly blatant all the same.
You knew he’d calmed down from a couple minutes ago. You knew it with the way his hands grasped your hips and pulled you closer. You sat down on his lap, a soft sigh exhaling past your lips.
“Well, I was all done anyway,” you say, tone lighthearted and teasing as you toss what was in your hand to the side.
“Oh good,” he says, pulling you all the more closer.
He tucks you into himself as tightly as possible, and you feel how deeply he inhaled as his face settled against the crook of your neck briefly, felt his exhale against your skin.
This. This was all he ever needed. All the comfort he’d known and cared for.
His warmth was unbeatable, his skin smooth and heated as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.
“I could get used to this no shirt thing, you know,” you said, soft but mischievous, that smile of yours plenty proof of it.
You hear his chuckle, see that half grin of his as he looks at you with half open eyes, a chunk of hair dipped between his brows in a damn prince charming sort of way.
“Yeah?” He inquires, though he knows your answer already.
You simply respond with a nod and a soft laugh that sends a feeling of warmth through his chest like it’s the first time he’s heard it. Nearly sent over the edge when that laugh presses to his lips and dissolves into a kiss.
Damn was he ever lucky, any tension he’s carried having long since dissipated just from your mere presence.
He’d felt absolutely miserable, purely stuck below the surface of his thoughts that never fail to drown him. But in that moment, it didn’t seem to matter so much. They could be thoughts to worry about some other time.
Because right now he’s got you.
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