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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 3 months

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One Big Family

Team Free Will 2.0 & Winchester little sister!reader, John Winchester & daughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

It was impossible, crazy, ridiculous.

But it was also happening. After over twelve years, the Winchesters finally got to see their father again.

It wasn’t what Dean had meant to wish for, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, especially not now, with what was happening in front of him.

You, his twelve year old little sister, were basically meeting your father for the first time. You were mere months old when he died, so you knew him from pictures only.

After everything had been explained to John, his first request had been to re-meet you. Sam had gone to your room to explain what was going on, and when he returned Dean and John watched as you shuffled along behind Sam, his jacket gripped in your small fists as you hid behind him.

“That’s her?” John breathed, and Dean turned in surprise to see tears welling up in John’s eyes. “She…she’s so big.”

“It’s ok,” Sam whispered to you, trying to coax you out from behind him. You peeked around him to see John getting down on one knee to be less intimidating.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted with a wide smile, and between his soft eyes and the way he said “sweetheart”—just the way Dean said it—you felt your shyness ebbing slightly as you stepped out from behind Sam’s legs.

“Hi,” you mumbled shyly, shuffling your feet as you approached John.

John reached his arms up slowly, hesitantly, as if waiting for your approval. You, never one to turn down a hug, gave it readily and melted into your father’s arms.

Dean had never seen his father smile like he did as he held you in his arms.

“It’s good to see you,” John said quietly as he pulled away. You didn’t seem to know what to say, so Sam spoke up.

“Honey, how about you show him your room?”

You lit up with excitement, snatching up John’s giant hand in your small one and practically dragging him towards your room.

“Ok, ok,” John laughed. “I’m coming!”

“I guess she’s warming up to him,” Sam chuckled to Dean after you disappeared with John in tow.

“We should probably join them,” Dean said. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

…

“Wow.” John laughed. “You’ve gotta lot of toys in here.”

“Yeah,” you grinned. “Daddy bought me most of them, he’s really—“ you trailed off when you saw the look of shock on John’s face.

Sam and Dean entered your room before John could ask what you meant, and as soon as they came in you ran to Sam, suddenly shy again in John’s presence. You didn’t know how he would feel when he found out about the angel that was like a third dad to you.

“Hey, something wrong?” Sam glanced between you and John.

“Um, no,” John spoke up, recovering from his shock. “We were just catching up. Dean, can I talk to you?”

Dean nodded, and he and John stepped out of your room.

…

“Kid, did something happen?” Sam asked gently.

“I—um, I mentioned daddy,” you mumbled, staring at your shoes.

“Hey,” Sam coaxed, kneeling down to meet your gaze. “He’s not gonna be mad, ok? He’ll understand, you didn’t do anything.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” Sam said with more assurance than he felt.

…

“What happened?” Dean questioned.

“It’s nothing, just…” John cleared his throat, and Dean had never seen him so hesitant. “I just wanted to know…does she call you two her dads?”

The question threw Dean a little.

“I…”

“Look, I get it,” John cut in. “She hasn’t seen me since she was a baby, it makes sense. She just, she mentioned ‘daddy’ and I…I was curious.”

Dean nearly cringed, but he kept his face in check. ‘Daddy’ was your moniker for Cas, and Dean wasn’t too sure how his father would react to the knowledge of angels.

“That’s a really long story,” Dean sighed. “I think maybe we should all talk about it.”

…

“So…angels,” John said quietly about an hour later. “And…the apocalypse?”

“Yeah, more than one,” Dean scoffed.

“And an angel, and the son of Lucifer are living with you,” John added.

“Jack,” you corrected with a smile. “He’s my big brother,” you added proudly. With the less-than-welcome greeting Jack had gotten when he entered the world, you had taken it upon yourself to make him family, and even though you were technically eleven years older than him, he always felt like a big brother to you.

“I see,” John said, smiling softly at you. “You three have been busy.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Sam said.

…

The four of you spent all day together, and John did all he could to get to know you.

You hit it off well with him, rambling non-stop about everything he’d missed, and he listened with wrapt attention.

You got to experience a lot of firsts with John—he gave you a piggyback ride, you had a pillow fight, and to cap it all off, the whole family sat down for one last meal. But all too soon, it was time to say goodbye.

The moment the boys found out that John had to go, they decided that you shouldn’t be around when it happened. So, at the end of the night that had ended way too soon, John pulled you into his arms for a final goodbye.

“I’m so proud of you, kid,” he said with finality. “These three dads you got here are raising you right, so you listen to them, ok?”

“Ok,” you promised through your tears.

“Hey,” John pulled back, framing your face with his large hands and using the pads of his thumbs to brush away your tears. “It’s ok, sweetheart. We got this day to remember, yeah? That’ll have to be enough for us.”

You nodded, leaning forward for one last hug. John reciprocated, squeezing you tightly.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” John breathed. Just as he was about to pull away, you stopped him with a tug on his arm and a gentle whisper in his ear. At your words, he smiled and picked you up, and Sam and Dean trailed behind as John carried you into your room…

Where John Winchester got to tuck his little girl into bed for the first time, kissing her head and wishing her goodnight. He closed the door with great hesitation, giving you one final, longing glance before shutting off the light and closing your door.

“You’ve got a good kid in there,” John said to his sons, no longer able to hold back the tears.

“Thanks, dad,” Dean smiled.

“You tell that angel friend of yours thanks for me, ok?”

…

You awoke the next morning to a quiet bunker.

“Daddy?” You began. “Are you back yet?”

With a flutter of wings, Castiel stood in front of you.

“Hello little one,” he greeted with a smile. “Yes, I got back last night after you fell asleep.” Cas grinned when you launched yourself into his arms. “I’ve heard you had quite the eventful day.”

You recounted every moment of the previous day with your father, and Castiel watched with a patient smile, glad that you got to meet John, even if just for a day.

“Well, after such an exciting day I’d say you need a lot more sleep,” Castiel said with a frown when he noticed the early hour.

“Can you tuck me in?” You asked shyly.

He smiled, “Of course little one.”

“You’re awake.”

The two of you turned at the sound of Jack’s voice in the doorway.

“I’m putting her back to sleep,” Castiel informed him.

“I wanna say hi to Jack first!” You insisted, jumping out of bed and running to hug Jack. He laughed and hugged you back tightly, before lifting you in his arms and carrying you to bed.

“Castiel is right, it’s far too early for you to be up, little sister. Get some rest.” He set you down gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead, an action mirrored by Cas.

“Sleep tight, little one.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

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hollybell51 · 1 year

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Last night on Earth

^don't mind me going absolutely feral over this gif

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Cas x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005), s05e03 "free to be you and me"

Word count: 6.4K

Summary: following the hooker failure, you feel that sitting alone in a shitty abandoned house is not the best way to spend one's last night on Earth. Cas seems to agree with you.

Content: smut! Yay! First kisses, first time, making out, handjobs, hickeys, penetrative sex, safe sex (yay!), cowgirl, mutual masturbation, fingering, gags? if you squint? maybe? like a hand over the mouth. Discussions of sex work and sex workers (I'm not commenting on anything, it's just there as dialogue due to the nature of the episode, and all dialogue/internal monologue regarding the topic is purely for the furtherment of the plot). Talking during sex, Cas is loud. Sex on a couch, spooning, almost-love-confessions ("like-confessions"). Very light comment on body image, some very vague descriptions of scars (reader is a hunter). Cas is just Cas and I love him for it. He's also a virgin. Dean's probably a warning but I adore him.

Notes: Heyyyy how's it going? One day into my holidays and I churn out this bad boy. Couldn't get the idea out of my head, and hey, I'm a sucker for virgin angels. This show is rapidly taking over my whole life lmao.

It's also been a while so I just thought I'd remind people of the taglist form, and the existence of my AO3 (if you wanna read my stuff there for whatever reason). Anyways enjoy, stay safe out there xx

“That was quick,” you called as the door creaked open, Dean’s low chuckle echoing through the hallway. You closed the book you’d been reading – a shitty paperback you’d picked out of a bargain bin – and watched as the other hunter dropped his jacket onto a rusted dining chair. You’d expected them to be gone for a few hours, hence your foray into the realms of “downtime”, but it had barely been one since they’d left, Dean throwing an obscenely enthusiastic wink your way as he shoved an apprehensive looking Cas out to enjoy his last night on Earth.

“We had to wrap it up pretty fast.” Dean glanced over his shoulder at Cas, laughter still clinging to his face. You hadn’t seen him look that happy in ages, not for this long. Well, that was something at least.

You’d had your doubts about the whole idea from the moment Dean had mentioned it. Sure, sex was sex. It was something that could be pretty darn nice and that you were glad for in your life, but you weren’t sure if Dean fully grasped that it was never the same with a hooker. It would never feel as good, it would never be meaningful, it would be a service purchased from a provider. A business transaction. That wasn’t any way to experience it for the first time, in your opinion.

“Good time not a long time, then?” you asked mildly.

“Would you say that, Cas?”

The angel stiffened, hands shoved into the pockets of his trench coat.

You wrinkled your nose, suddenly wondering if you should feel bad. “Bad time?”

Dean snorted. “I’m turning in. You tell (Y/N) about it, she’ll give you a pat on the back and tell you it’s alright. And don’t look so… grief stricken.”

“G’night,” you waved to his retreating back, then turned back to Cas. “Really bad time?”

He really did look grief stricken, standing stock still in the dimness. Even his hair looked droopier than usual, and you almost got out of your seat just to push it off his face. You settled for putting your book down and leaning forward.

“She ran away,” he said after a moment. “I think I scared her.”

“Geez,” you frowned. “How’d you scare a hooker?”

He shrugged. “I told her it wasn’t her fault that her father Gene ran off.” Then, as if it explained everything; “He hated his job at the post office.”

You laughed, but stopped quickly. “Oh, Cas. You know the whole–”

“The whole industry is run on absent fathers, I know.” He sighed. “Dean found it hilarious.”

This time, you did get up, crossing the room to pat his shoulder. You knew Dean wouldn’t have meant anything by it, wouldn’t have been laughing at Cas. Still, a pang of what was almost pity shot through you. It wasn’t about the sex, not really, as much as Dean played that aspect up. It was more all the coulds that never would. Cas wasn’t human, as much as he could pass it off (mostly), but there were so many things that he wasn’t going to get to try now. You just didn’t understand how he could so casually volunteer to die at the drop of a hat. It was either incredibly selfless, or incredibly selfish. Or maybe just stupid.

But no, Cas wasn’t stupid. He was razor sharp, a soldier of God, even if you poked fun at him when he didn’t understand your and Dean’s pop-culture reference infused slang. It had only been the last time you’d seen him that you’d vowed to make him sit through all the Star Wars movies, something you hadn’t realised until afterwards had sounded a lot like a “movie and chill” proposal. Luckily, he wouldn’t have picked up on that. Just like he wouldn’t have picked up – like Dean had – the moments where you caught yourself watching him, or the smiles that were just too damned determined to break out on your face when he showed up – either in the real world or in your mind. And thank the heavens nobody but you noticed the tiny flurries of butterflies in your stomach you’d noticed increasingly often when he was around, the surges of warmth that would sneak up and rush over you unexpectedly when you thought of him, the tingles that flooded your skin when he stood that little bit too close to you.

Which, when you thought about it, was maybe contributing to the ounce of vindication you were feeling regarding the hooker failure. It wasn’t all the “I told you so” type of satisfaction, anyway, and you weren’t too proud to admit when you liked someone.

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him now, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You’re giving me a pat on the back and telling me it’s alright,” he sighed, almost mournfully. “Dean said–”

You reached up, pressing a finger to his lips and shaking your head. “You wanna know something?”

He nodded, brows furrowed. He hadn’t drawn back, you noticed.

“It doesn’t matter how much sex Dean has,” you whispered, hand still floating close by his face. “I wouldn’t take a damn letter of his advice in that department.”

“Why not?” His breath tickled your skin, and suddenly you realised just how close you were standing.

You shrugged, dispelling the shiver that had run up your spine. “I just know if a dude came onto me how he comes onto chicks, I’d kick him in the balls.”

“I’ll make a point to not come onto you like he does, in that case.”

It took a moment – past the words “like he does”, not that he wouldn’t come onto you full stop, but like Dean does – for the fact that it was a joke to sink in, then you smiled. Maybe there was, or had been, hope for him yet. You took a breath, turning the words over in your mind. It was now or never, you supposed.

“I want you to know,” you said carefully, “if you die–”

“When. Tomorrow, when I die.”

“Uh, yeah.” You swallowed. How could he be so matter of fact about it? How could he just say it like that? It didn’t matter, you supposed. Whether he said it or didn’t, it wasn’t going to change the fact that it was happening.

“When I die…” he prompted when you were silent.

“I want you to know that I liked you,” you said simply, then shrugged. “I think I was on the way to really liking you.”

He frowned, and for a moment you thought you’d made a massive mistake. “You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I don’t mind. I know I’m… a dick.”

“Jesus, Cas,” you snorted. “Guess we say that a bit too much, don’t we?”

“Maybe.”

“And we don’t say ‘thank you’ enough.”

He shook his head, still holding your hand. “You don’t have to do this,” he repeated.

“It’s not about that. Not all of it, anyway.” You smiled, glancing at your hand where it met his. It looked big, wrapped around your fingers, and it fitted painfully well. “But, you know, if it’s your last night on Earth…” You looked up, wiggling your eyebrows. You could play it off as a joke if you needed to, you weren’t too far in yet.

That familiar almost-smile you’d come to look for danced over his lips. “You pity me, dying a virgin? Dying,” he added. “A virgin.”

You laughed. “I don’t… pity you. Not exactly. Not because you’re gonna die a virgin, and definitely not because you’re a virgin.”

“Because I scared away a prostitute?”

“Her loss,” you laughed. “And anyway, if it’s your first and last time, it’d be nice to… y’know… feel good.”

He frowned. “Surely a prostitute would know how to do that?”

“Maybe the technicalities,” you shrugged, “but there’s more to it than that. There’s feelings, y’know?”

“Feelings?”

Again, you shrugged, suddenly self conscious. What were you doing? “Two way street kind of thing,” you explained lamely. “Not just someone you want, but someone who wants you. Not just your money.” You were acutely aware of the unspoken words floating beneath the casual sentence. I want you. It could be me.

A pause, where his eyes seemed to bore into your soul. He had a knack for that, you’d noticed. Sometimes you felt like he could see right to the very core of your being. In the dimness, they looked even more startlingly blue than usual. He was so close, you could almost count his eyelashes, almost feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath the coat, jacket, shirt, tie…

“When it’s…” He paused, his tongue darting over his lips. God, his lips. “Someone you want.”

“Mhm.”

“Someone who wants you.”

“Mhm.”

“Not just your money.”

You hadn’t taken your eyes off his mouth through the whole exchange, and your voice, when you asked, sounded softer than you’d meant it to, breathy and faint to your own ears. “Do you want me, Cas? Last night on Earth, and all.”

The corner of his mouth curled up, brows twitching into a thoughtful frown. No, you thought, not quite a frown. Something else, more curious than confused. Almost quizzical. “I think…” He paused, drawing breath. “I think I do.”

“Ok,” you smiled, ignoring the butterfly rampage taking place in your stomach. This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen in real life. Not your life, anyway, even if it was Cas’s last night on Earth. It didn’t exist outside the pages of those shitty paperbacks.

“Do you want me?” Cas asked.

“Mhm.” It was all you could manage, really. Then you were stretching up the last few inches between your face and his, pressing your lips gently against his own.

He was perfectly still for a heartbeat, two heartbeats, almost three. Then his hand tightened around yours and he pulled you closer, trench coat rustling where your chest met it. He kissed you the way you remembered the first boy who’d ever kissed you – a boy in your year level at school, at a party, playing spin the bottle no less – had kissed you. The want was all there, the enthusiasm and anticipation and the only half-conscious desire for more. His lips remained shut, but you could feel in it that he knew it wasn’t quite right.

You pulled away briefly, just enough to raise a hand to his mouth and run your thumb over his bottom lip. “Like this,” you murmured, pushing just enough to part his lips. Then your hands were in his hair and you were pulling him down to you, and this time it was perfect.

He made a little sound of pleasure as your tongue slipped beside his, stroking, caressing, gently as you could. Without any guidance, his hand had found the cloth-shielded contours of your breast, tracing the outline with a sort of awe. His fingers ran along the neckline of your top, dipping under the material, curving around your bare shoulder, exploratory and cautious.

You let him explore you, his hands mapping out every curve he could touch, tongue darting into every uncharted depth he could find, tasting and learning and discovering parts of you you hadn’t guessed could be felt like this through just a kiss. Your mind spiralled as his hand eased under your shirt, cool fingers tickling the skin of your hip. He squeezed gently, pulling you against him harder, and you gave in completely. You weren’t sure if it was what he had been going for, but when you pushed your pelvis against his he gasped; a quiet, shuddering little sound that went straight to your panties.

“Ok?” you breathed between kisses, then, at his nod, you did it again.

His voice was strangled when he said your name, the pads of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist. Oh Cas, you thought. A rush of affection washed over you at how eager he was, where just an hour before he’d been being literally pushed out the door by Dean, looking as terrified as you’d ever seen him at the prospect of sex. Now he was kissing you hungrily, kneading at your skin, inching your shirt up off your torso, his feet at risk of tangling with yours as he walked you backwards. Not to mention the increasingly noticeable bulge pressed against you.

“Clothes off,” you breathed, already undoing his tie. “On the couch.”

He paused, then he was shrugging off the trench coat, the blazer following suit – no pun intended – and landing with a soft rustling thump on the floor. You stepped back, just a little, as he deftly unfastened the buttons of his shirt, drinking in every inch of skin like a kid in a lolly shop. Fuck, maybe you had the hots for him even worse than you’d thought.

“Are you going to undress too?” The question was mild, matter of fact, but something in the way Cas had paused midway through relieving himself of his pants and was watching you, hands still on the belt buckle, made you stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, but your voice still came out too low, too husky. “Sure.”

His gaze didn’t leave you for an instant – apart from when he kicked his discarded trousers aside – as you pulled your shirt the rest of the way over your head, slid your jeans as gracefully as you could down your legs. You shivered slightly in the cool night air, acutely aware of your hunter’s body.

Cas’s eyes widened, scanning over you and taking in every inch of your skin. It wasn’t perfect, you were aware of that. It wasn’t like a hooker’s body, it carried you around as you fought monsters, and was littered with the proof of said monster fights. You wondered if Cas had seen other – normal – human bodies like this, if he’d find the painfully obvious reminders of your mortality somehow repellent. You suddenly felt very, very small and very, very human.

“Sorry about… y’know…” You shrugged, patting your thigh awkwardly. “The meatsack’s a little dinged up. Most people don’t look like this.”

“Don’t look like what?” he frowned, finally looking back at your face.

You shrugged again, poking a long white scar over your side. The first werewolf you’d ever come face to face with, and nearly the last. “Scarred. At least not as much as I am,” you added.

A shiver shot up your spine as Cas settled his hands on your bare waist, fingers running over the most noticeable marks. “Don’t apologise,” he said softly. “You’re human, and you spend your days killing monsters. It would be more disturbing if you were unblemished.”

You laughed at that, a small breathy sound. “You think I’m disturbing?”

He smiled faintly. “You’re not so bad.”

You felt your own mouth curve, matching his. “Neither are you.”

He leaned down, his lips meeting yours once more. This kiss was softer, more intimate, maybe a little too intimate. You were vaguely aware of the couch behind you. Before your knees knocked against its side, you broke away – a difficult task, given that Cas chased your lips like a lab rat after cheese – and spun, laying your hands firmly on his chest.

“Couch,” you muttered, giving a gentle push.

He pulled you with him as he sat down, his hands running down over your hips, your thighs, back up again to your waist. He watched you carefully as his touch slid up the centre of your torso, over your bra, lingering momentarily on the anti-possession sigil tattooed over your heart before he moved on, across the line of your ribs. Unbidden, the memory of the last time he’d touched you there sprang to mind; the sharp, burning pain and throbbing after-ache of the Enochian sigils being literally carved into your bones.

“I can see them,” he whispered, as if he’d read your mind. “The sigils.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How do they look?”

“Foreign,” he said after a moment. “They don’t belong.”

You shrugged, unsure how to respond to that. Sure, the sigils weren’t part of you, and you didn’t exactly know how you felt about angel writing being carved into your ribcage, but there was also something reassuring about knowing it was there, knowing you carried that kind of magic with you. In you.

Cas’s eyes lifted from your body, fixing on your own. “Can you feel them?” he inquired.

You shook your head. “Not really. Not physically. But I know they’re there.”

“Perhaps I should have asked,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It’s your body, after all.”

“No,” you smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I kinda like the idea of you scribbling on me. Bone graffiti.”

“Bone graffiti?”

You felt the smile grow, nodding. “Besides,” you added, “I’ll always have a little bit of you, even after you're gone. Like a… souvenir.”

“Oh,” was all he said. You supposed people were right about impending death making people sappier. But still, what you said was true. Your own ribs had become a kind of lucky charm, a talisman, a locket of sorts.

You dragged yourself out of that line of thinking before you went any further, turning your attention back to the angel currently underneath you on the couch. Underneath you and very shirtless. You’d placed your own hands on his chest in an attempt to not fall over on top of him, and now you let yourself touch him – really touch him. His chest heaved under your fingers as you swept over him, a tiny, strangled noise falling from his lips.

“Alright?” you asked, pausing for a moment.

He nodded, shifting slightly under you. “It’s good,” he said softly.

“Keep going?”

Again, a nod. Cautiously, gently, you spread your fingers over his chest. His heart beat fast, thudding frantically as you moved your other hand lower, down the centre of his torso, following the contours of his lithe muscles. You reached the waistband of his underpants, pausing.

“Can I?” you asked, your hand hovering over his barely concealed erection.

“Yes,” he whispered, tongue darting over his lips. His eyes flicked from your face to your hand, back to your face again.

You smiled as you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his underwear. His dick was hot to the touch, hard and already damp at the tip. “You ever touched yourself?” you asked as you withdrew your hand, spitting into your palm.

Cas’s breath hitched. “Once.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, licking his lips again. “Dean said I wasn’t supposed to talk about it.”

“Yeah, well…” You smiled again, wrapping your fingers around his cock and stroking languidly. “You can tell me.”

He gave a sort of half gasp, half moan, his grip tightening on your thigh. “I found Dean’s magazine,” he confessed. “The one with the women, not the cars.”

“Mhm?” You kept your voice mild, focussing on the steady motion of your arm and wrist, your fingers sliding effortlessly over him. You could almost see Cas flipping through the pages of one of those god-awful porn mags Dean insisted on carting around, picture his confused little head-tilt and his frown as he looked through the pictures, his hand creeping to where yours was now, his much larger fingers circling–

“It was uncomfortable,” he continued, jerking you back to the present. “Too hot. I really just wanted it to go away.”

“And did it?”

“Not until I– oh!” He broke off as your thumb slid over the leaking head of his cock, fingers digging into your thigh.

You fought off the surge of heat the sound sent shooting through you, watching his slightly parted lips, his wide eyes. “Did you cum?” you asked evenly.

“Yes,” he panted, hips twitching up slightly. “Oh, (Y/N), yes–”

“Yes, you did cum?”

“Yes, yes I did.”

“Was it good?”

Another soft moan, then he smiled. “Not as good as this.”

Maybe it was the praise, maybe the moan, maybe the smile. Either way, the words went straight to your panties. You ignored it, stopping yourself from grinding against him with willpower that would have impressed Jesus. Although, you weren’t sure how he would have felt about you fucking a literal angel.

You leant forward, kissing his lips gently, then his jaw, then his neck, then his chest. You kept going, tracing a path inexorably downwards, shuffling backwards to straddle his thigh as he shifted with you, now splayed along the couch lengthways.

“Help me out,” you muttered, your hand moving beside your face as you attempted to pull his underwear off. Obediently, he lifted his hips and kicked them aside, the muscles of his stomach twitching as you placed a kiss on the junction of his hip. And holy shit, you could have just watched his torso moving like that forever. You kissed his hip again, sucking gently at the spot, licking over the mark you conjured. Then you added another beside it, and another, and another. A little belt of hickeys across his pelvis.

“Do you, hm, touch yourself too?” he asked, breathless and raw.

“Fuck, Cas.” You paused where you’d been about to kiss the base of his cock, raising your eyes to his. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell again, the skin almost glowing in the dim light.

He frowned. “Am I not supposed to ask that?”

“You can ask me anything you want,” you assured him, kissing the little trail of hair below his belly button. “And yeah, I do.”

“Does it feel good?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

“Do you…” He paused, searching for the words. “Do you want to do it now?”

“This is about you,” you said softly, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I want you to feel good too.”

You sat up, studying him. There was nothing by sincerity in his eyes, the genuine desire – and desire there was – for you to enjoy yourself. And why shouldn’t you indulge that? You were having a great time as it was, and there was no denying the throbbing ache that had grown exponentially between your legs.

“You want me to touch myself?” you asked, double checking.

He nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Ok.” You shed your own underpants, shivering as the cool air came in contact with your wetness. Slowly, you reached down and ran your finger over your clit, your breath hitching in your chest. You repeated the action, your hand moving further down to circle your entrance, slick gathering on your fingers. You’d done this countless times before, and you weren’t ashamed of it. Masturbation was natural, it was a perfectly normal perfectly human thing to do. This, however was different. You’d never had an audience before, never had anyone watch you with such rapt wonder and awe.

Cas’s eyes flicked down to your bra, then back to your face. A question, almost a request.

“Off?” you asked, already reaching behind your back. He nodded, watching carefully as you shed the garment and cast it aside to join the pile of clothes on the floor. Slowly, reverently, he stretched up and kissed your breast, his hand leaving its place on your hip to trace over the other one.

A shiver ran down your spine and you bit down on your lip, attempting futilely to stifle your moan. Absently, your hand resumed its place between your thighs as Cas’s hand left your chest and found its way to his cock. You’d never in a million years have thought you’d be where you were now; touching yourself on top of an angel touching himself while he did his best to turn your chest into one giant hickey. You were hardly complaining.

Something rustled in the next room over, and you both froze. Fuck, you thought. Dean was still (hopefully) asleep, only the wall and the hastily closed door to that room barring him from hearing you. Cas seemed to have had exactly the same thought, his head tilted slightly as he listened, his breath raising goosebumps on the spit-damp skin of your chest. There was another rustle, then a quiet snort, then nothing. He hadn’t woken, then.

“We gotta be quiet,” you whispered. You shifted, biting back another moan. “Ok?”

“Ok,” Cas nodded. He pressed his lips firmly together, eyes flicking down to where your hand disappeared between your legs. You hissed as you resumed your movement, acutely aware of every possible sound you or Cas made, ears pricked for any other disturbance from nextdoor.

Cas’s free hand was still resting on your thigh, firmly holding you in place on top of himself. His wrist brushed your own with every stroke of his cock, the skin over his stomach and chest twitching ever so slightly. His own thigh tensed as he thrust into his hand, something that you could only describe as a whimper falling from his lips. Heat surged over you, your mind awash with desire. If only that hooker knew what she was missing.

“Sorry,” he muttered almost immediately, eyes darting towards the door.

“‘Salright,” you replied, swallowing hard. Being quiet was a much more difficult task than you’d anticipated, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the possibility of being caught just a little bit. You grunted softly as your finger brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, the familiar rhythm and movements working just as well as ever, and even better when you had Cas to look at. Not to mention the warmth of his mouth where it occasionally found your breasts again.

But you wanted more, you needed more. The same part of you that was electrified by your own touch craved his, especially when his beautiful hands were right there and his eyes were still fixed on you like you were the centre of the universe, his own movements becoming faster and more frantic, chest heaving.

You paused, much as it pained you. “Do you wanna go further?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Gently, you laid your hand over his and peeled it away from his cock. Wriggling forwards a little, you finally – finally – rocked your hips over his, revelling in the hot hardness of him against your slick. His mouth fell open, fingers tightening on your own.

“Here, Cas. I want you inside me, wanna fuck you properly.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” he sighed, his own hips matching your movement.

“Will you let me? Let me fuck you?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Yes, of course.”

You smiled. “Ok, one second.” You reached over the side of the couch, digging through the pockets of your jeans until you found your wallet – and the little foil package inside it.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked as you tore it open and set the latex atop his dick.

“It’s a condom,” you explained. “So I don’t get pregnant. No offence,” you grinned, “but I don’t really wanna have your babies any time soon.”

“Oh.” He swallowed, processing. “That’s… understandable.”

“All good?” At his nod, you slid the condom the rest of the way down, spitting into your hand once more and resuming your earlier ministrations. “It feels a little different, I know,” you whispered as you moved to grind against him once more.

“It’s still good,” he assured you, placing his hands gently on your hips.

You smiled. “Ready?”

“Yes.” The word was a breath, nothing more, but it was all you needed. Carefully, you lined him up and sank down, watching his face carefully. His eyes widened, his fingers digging into your flesh slightly as a deep groan reverberated through the space between you.

“Gotta be quiet,” you reminded him, your voice not half as steady as you’d have liked. “Don’t wanna wake Dean up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, “quiet.”

You leaned forwards and placed a soft kiss on his lips, rocking your hips over his. He was everything you’d imagined and so much more. It was like he’d been made for you, the way his cock stroked every inch of your insides, sliding smoothly with how wet you were. You wanted to go back in time and kick your past self for having waited this long.

“God, Cas,” you sighed. “Oh God.”

His brows pinched together slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he stretched up and captured your lips with his, moving down over your jaw to your neck, sucking gently just as you’d done to the skin of his hip. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close against you as you lifted and lowered your hips, a faint whine somehow slipping from your lips despite your best efforts.

“Is this, hm, ok?” he asked, his usually gravelly voice made even more so.

“Fuck,” you gasped as his hand came to rest on your ass, kneading at the soft flesh, moving up over the front of your hips where your leg met the rest of your body. “So good, Cas.”

“You’re so good,” he murmured, guiding your movements gently. He thrust into you, his hips meeting yours halfway, stomach muscles flexing.

“Let me,” you said, pushing him backwards into the couch cushions. “You relax, yeah? I’ve got it. I’ve got you.”

He nodded, head tipping back as you bounced on his dick, the rough fabric of the cushion beneath you scratching at your knees. Fumbling slightly, your hands found purchase on his chest and you locked your elbows in an odd sort of imitation of CPR. If CPR was done from the front rather than the side, you supposed, but you weren’t exactly doing any resuscitation.

His chest heaved under your touch, another low groan seeming to echo in the otherwise stillness of the night. The tiny part of your brain that wasn’t totally consumed with the wonderful pleasure-ache of his cock hitting deep inside you and the burn of your thighs was torn between telling him to be quiet and just listening to him, but then he was licking his lips again and his mouth was falling open and you were lost.

“(Y/N),” he panted, his eyes fixed on your face. “Oh, (Y/N), oh my–”

“Alright?” you asked, biting back a moan as you found a particularly good angle.

“Yes, yes, of course. It’s, hm, so good.” He glanced momentarily down at where your body met his, another groan rumbling in his chest.

“Sh–” you whispered, half tempted to press your hand over his mouth. Or maybe your own, given the struggle you were facing to remain quiet yourself.

“Sorry, sorry I–”

You cut him off quickly. “It’s alright Cas, you’re fine. Just, fuck–”

“(Y/N),” he panted, the muscles of his arms and stomach flexing as his fingers gripped the couch cushion, luminescent in the dimness. Again, his eyes flicked downwards, this time to the soft mound of flesh currently on display.

You smiled, reaching down to take his hand, drawing it up to rest over your pelvis. His skin was warmer than you’d ever felt it, faintly clammy and God his hand was big under your own. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d caught yourself picturing his hands in this kind of context, and you didn’t want to try. His fingers splayed over your skin, moving with you, covering the whole space below your naval.

“That’s where you are,” you panted. “That’s where I can feel you, Cas, right there.”

A small, strained noise you could only describe as a whine. “Is it, ah, good? Do you like it? Do you like feeling… me?”

“Fuck,” you sighed. “Yeah, sure do, Cas. Do you like feeling me?”

He smiled, biting down hard on his lower lip. “Of course. I like it immensely.”

You felt yourself clench at his words, and this time you were unable to restrain the downright pornographic moan that tore from your throat. Any other time, you might have been embarrassed, but Cas seemed to like it. Pressing your lips firmly together, you glanced hastily towards the other room, but as far as you could tell there was no disturbance.

“(Y/N), oh, (Y/N), I don’t think—” He swallowed hard, eyes wide and back on your face.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t— I don’t think I can be quiet, (Y/N) I—”

Affection bloomed alongside the desire in your gut, and you had half a mind to tell him it was alright, he didn’t even have to worry about being quiet at all. It wasn’t like you didn’t love the noises he was making. But Dean was only one room over, and you didn’t want to wake him.

“You can, Cas,” you breathed, “you can. You’re doing so well already, we just gotta— fuck.”

He’d bucked his hips up into you, the movement jolting the steady knot of pleasure forming low in your stomach. He was close, you could see it as much as hear it, but the thought of the thin walls and your friend sleeping in the next room over had taken root more firmly in your mind now.

“It’s so much,” Cas gasped. “Oh, oh, (Y/N) it’s so much—”

You managed a smile, slowing down your movements a little. “I know,” you said softly. “You’re ok, yeah?”

He nodded frantically. “Hm, yes, yes. Please, don’t stop. Keep going, please—”

Another soft moan slipped from your mouth, Cas’s answering groan enough to make your legs shake. It was too loud, and any other time you’d have soaked up his praises and curses and everything, but not now. After a moment’s hesitation, you clamped your hand firmly over his mouth, sh-ing him gently. If possible, his eyes widened even further and he groaned against your skin.

“Alright?” you breathed.

Another frantic nod, an almost-whimper as your grip firmed up. Well I’ll be damned, you thought vaguely. Who’d have guessed he was into that?

You felt him shiver all over as you continued to rock your hips over his, his hand where it rested on your hip tightening. You wondered if you’d have finger-shaped bruises later. It didn’t matter, you told yourself as he moaned again, his stomach muscles tensing, something that could have been your name squashed under your hand.

“Sh, shh!” you gasped. Between holy shit I’m so close and holy shit he’s so close, the thought that Dean was right there and would hear you was still rooted in your mind. “Cas, sh, Dean’s right– ah, fuck, Dean’s–”

You broke off as Cas’s chest heaved, his hips bucking up into you once more. His mouth had fallen open under your hand and he was gasping something, angel curse-words, maybe? It didn’t matter, not when his eyes were screwed shut and his head was tipped back, your name sprinkled into the litany of foreign words like a prayer.

The sight was enough to make the bomb that had been building in your stomach explode, sparks of pleasure shooting through your aching legs right to your toes and back up again. You might have said Cas’s name, you weren’t sure, but the sentiment was there. You clamped a hand over your own mouth, nothing but the need to be quiet reverberating through your pleasure-blanked mind.

After what felt like an age, your brain managed to find its way back into your skull and the aftershocks of your orgasm faded from your body. Gently, you removed your hand from Cas’s mouth and looked down at him, smiling.

“Alright?” you asked.

His hair was a mess, his brow lightly beaded with sweat, cheeks flushed. There was even a slight red mark where your hand had been, which you stroked gently.

“I’m more than alright,” he smiled, turning to place a tiny kiss on your fingers. “Are you?”

“Good,” you nodded as you slid off him, mourning the sudden emptiness momentarily as you peeled off the condom, tying it in a neat knot to be disposed of later. Then he was lifting his arm, wriggling with you as if he could read your mind, and you were being cocooned against his body.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “if I was too loud.”

“You weren’t,” you assured him quickly. “Not at all. Sorry about… gagging you. I should’ve asked. That’s not what usually happens.”

He hesitated, turning to meet your eyes. “I… didn’t mind.”

“No?”

He shook his head, a small, nervous smile dancing across his lips. “No. In fact, I quite liked it.”

You felt your own smile widen as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, taking his hand where it rested on his chest. “Good,” you said. “What about the rest? What do you think?”

He sighed, a beautifully satisfied noise that flooded you with warmth. “I think I should not have waited this long.”

You laughed, pressing closer. “Mhm?”

“Mhm. Thank you, (Y/N), truly.”

“Oh,” you said softly, turning away to hide the blood rushing to your face. “That’s ok, Cas. Thank you.”

He gave another little hum, shifting to drape his arm over your waist and pull you into him, fingers skimming your ribs. Getting spooned by a divine warrior of God, you thought with a thrill. Real life really was stranger than fiction.

“You’re tired,” he murmured, his voice seeming to rumble through you in the best way possible. “You should sleep.”

“Hold on,” you protested as you felt his arm withdrawing. You grabbed his hand, pulling it firmly back down to rest on your stomach, wiggling closer. “There was a blanket on the back, grab that. I’m staying here.”

You could almost feel him frowning when he replied. “You’d not rather a bed?”

You only hesitated a moment before bending to kiss his arm. “I’d rather you.”

He didn’t seem to know quite what to say to that, but after a beat something heavy and slightly scratchy was being draped over you, and Cas’s arm was tightening around your waist, and his lips were pressing against your shoulder.

“G’night,” you whispered.

“Good night, (Y/N).”

It was Dean who found his two friends curled together on the couch the next morning. He snorted, taking in the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders in tandem with Cas’s, his hand enveloping your smaller one where it rested just above the blanket, the assortment of what was very clearly Cas’s suit and your own clothes scattered over the floor. Well, he supposed, the night hadn’t been a complete failure. He had half a mind to throw something at you, the scene was so jarringly… sweet.

“Rise n’ shine lovebirds,” he called instead, “we’ve got shit to do.”

#supernatural #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel smut #castiel x you #supernatural fanfiction #shameless smut #supernatural smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #cas x reader #female reader #x reader #reader insert

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gilverrwrites · 2 months

Note

Could you make a Sam Winchester having erotic dreams with his female best friend?

Author Note: Hello! I hope you don't mind, but I combined this request with your other request for Dean in the same scenario (and added Cas cause 😍) I'm also working on a separate fic for Dean having erotic dreams about a rival per that request. I really hope you enjoy! ❤️

Rating: M/18+

Words: 1940 (Dean 685, Sam 685, Cas 570)

Request Info | Masterlist | Ko-Fi

It's a total coincidence that Dean and Sam are both 685 each!

Please remember: To focus on the things that make you happy.

Dean Winchester

“Oooh yes Dean, yes, that’s it.” Your voice sounds hoarse and breathy. Makes sense cause you’ve been moaning like that, praising like that all night. “You like that baby?” Dean asks from beneath you, completely entranced by the bounce of your breasts and the sway of your hips as you ride him. “You like fuckin’ yourself on my dick baby?” “Yes, Dean, yes! You feel so fucking good. Make me feel so good.” You chant, and when your head rolls back in ecstasy, Dean follows. His fingers grip at your skin, forcing you against him as he ruts into you, spilling himself inside.

That was last night’s dream. The most recent in a string of dreams that left him hot and bothered every morning. The worst part was facing you. Trying to look you in the eye, discuss a case, or make a game plan without thinking about you naked and moaning on his dick.

He’d been avoiding you as much as possible, but sometimes just your name was enough to make him pop a boner, much like the one he had now. He positioned his beer bottle over his offending member and forced himself to stare out the window, averting his gaze from the sight of you, bent over the nearest pool table.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” The sound of your voice made him jump. Man, how out of it was he?

“What?” He looked up at you, hands on hips, staring down at him. The sight made his lips dry. “Oh nothin’, I think I’ve had too many. Maybe I should call it a night.”

“You’ve had like two drinks. That barely even touches the sides.” You state, and you’re not wrong. You know him too well. He can’t help clenching his jaw as you sit down across from him. When he sees how your new angle offers him a perfect shot of your cleavage, he thinks he might start grinding away his teeth. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean then?” He leans in closer. Not to be closer, but he hopes leaning forward might help hide the bulge in his jeans.

“You’ve been acting funny, and avoiding me all wee-“

“N-“

“Don’t interrupt. Yes, you have.” You punctuate your statement by placing your drink on the table. You don’t slam, but it's hard and firm enough to communicate your point. “Don’t you try to deny it Dean Winchester! I know you too well. You’ve been avoiding me, and when you can’t get away you’re all squirrely and quiet. Now tell me what’s going on.”

He drains his beer as he thinks it over. Partly to try and return some moisture to his mouth but primarily to buy himself some time while he thinks things over. If he’s honest, he might get something out of it. A one-night stand, a fuck buddy, maybe more? Or he might lose you, which he couldn’t stand.

“I…”

“Come on Dean, whatever it is, we’ll get through it. We always do.”

Fuck it. You’re right. He gestures to the bartender for another round, takes a deep breath, and spills. And a funny thing happens: he starts to feel more relaxed as he lets it out. If you’re not into it, that’s fine. So long as it doesn’t scare you off.

When he’s done, he watches you as you process his confession. Man, he loves the way your face moves when you’re thinking.

“So…” You purse your lips and take a quick sip of your drink as you prepare your response. “What’s the problem? Do you not want to sleep with me?”

“No, I do. Obviously, you’re…” hot, incredible, the only woman I want. Unable to voice any of the thoughts in his head at that moment, he gestures to you, head to toe and back again. “I just don’t want it to cause problems between us. Our friendship”

“Then we won’t let it.” You state matter-of-factly. “Now, are you gonna take me back to the bunker so we can fuck each other dumb or not?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Sam Winchester

His fingers are knuckle deep inside of you as you lay back, spread out across his bed. “Fuckkk… Sam!” You look up at him, eyes hazy, hair a mess, and he can feel his dick throb in response. “Sam, I’m so full.” “Poor baby.” He coos in response. “So full already, and I’ve barely even touched you.” He watches the way your expression melts at his words with pride, when he sees your lips start to form your reply, he places a direct smack to your clit. The whine you release is music to his ears. The way you wither and moan as he begins to play with your clit, fuck, you’re so hot. “Are you ready for more?” He asks. He’s pleased when you begin vigorously nodding. “Yes, Sam! Yes! Yes, please!”

Years of impersonating officials and hustling at almost every bar he stopped at had earned Sam a more than convincing poker face. But you always saw right through it.

For that reason, Sam had been bending over backwards to avoid you. He wasn’t totally sure what he was hiding, the fact that he’d dreamed about you, or the fact that he’d furiously masturbated to the memory of it upon waking up. Either way, he wasn’t ready to face you.

He’d hung back in the morning, grabbing his breakfast later than usual. Gone to the local library all day to research, citing a change of scenery when Dean questioned him, and had gone grocery shopping as an excuse to stay out later.

After unpacking the shopping, he’d hopped in the shower, making up for skipping his usual morning routine.

What he hadn’t accounted for was finding you, dressed in nothing but your panties and one of his t-shirts, in the centre of his bed. The very bed he’d vividly fantasised about pleasing you in.

It wasn’t an unusual sight. You were his best friend after all. You often hung out in each other’s rooms, and you frequently borrowed his shirts. He just really could have done without all this today.

“Hey Sam.” You greeted him with a smile, looking up from your laptop. “I missed you today.”

“Hey.” He responds awkwardly. Both hands clutching at his towel. He clears his throat before continuing. “Yeah, I was busy I guess. You too.”

“No worries.” You assure him before returning your gaze to your screen. “I could use your help with something if that’s alright?”

“Sure.” He approaches the bed. Certain close proximity will escalate his predicament he resolves to remain standing. However, looking down at you, with your head so close to his crotch, is equally stirring something within him. Reluctantly, he sits beside you. He glances at your computer briefly but quickly becomes preoccupied with adjusting and readjusting his towel, determined to cover the growing erection beneath.

“So, I’ve been looking into the apple of Sodom for Claire but…” he swears he meant to listen, but he’d never noticed how good you smell before, or how your skin glows even under the dingy light of his room. “Sam? Sam are you even listening?”

“Yeah, of course.” He finally tunes back in. “Apple of Sodom, Claire… hand of God?”

He looks into your eyes to judge his improv, but you’re staring, wide-eyed, right at the thing he’s been trying to hide.

“Is that- are you…” You look at his face, and he can feel the heat spreading across his cheeks. “For- because of me?”

“I’m sorry!” He stands, pausing to compose his words before continuing his apology. “I just, I had this dream last night about you, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about all day. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?”

“Because you’re my friend. My best friend.”

“Right.” You always saw right through him, but fortunately, that was a two-way skill, and right now, he could hear, he could feel the disappointment you were radiating.

“Unless…” he cocks a brow at you, and your body immediately perks up. You look up at him, eyes hazy, identical to his dream. “Do you want this too?”

Castiel

You’re a vision on your knees before him, eyes watering, cheeks puffed out, hair tangled between his fingers. He stares intently, relishing in all the subtle movements of your faces as he lazily pumps his penis between your lips. His grip grows tighter every time he feels the back of your throat against his tip. Your muffled pants and moans are music to his ears. The way your lips glisten beneath the sheen of your own saliva is erotic, and he worries the sight of you alone will be enough to make him finish before he’s really begun.

It’s that vision he’s thinking of now as he watches you on your hands and knees, scrubbing a chalk pentagram off the floor.

He’s brought out of his chain of thoughts by the sound of your voice. “Is there something on my face?”

“No.” He squints at your face; he is confident it looks fine, more than fine, beautiful in fact, but he examines it in more depth, nonetheless. “There is nothing on your face. In fact, your face is quite adequate.”

“Quite adequate, I’ll take that as high praise.” You laugh. He’s not certain what’s so funny, but the sound is exquisite, and only further fuels the unfamiliar fiery feeling he’s experiencing. “But seriously, why are you staring at me?”

Your line of questioning makes sense to him now. He briefly considers lying to you, but on the spot he cannot think of anything convincing. “I slept last night.”

“I didn’t know Angels did that.” It’s not a question, but he has learned many human cues during his time on Earth. You’re digging for more information.

“We can, but we do not need to, so typically we don’t. I thought I might trial it to see if it would help in replenishing my grace.” He answers.

“Did it help?” Your inquisitiveness is ceaseless. It is something he has always liked about you.

“No.” He replies, he enjoys the brief frown of disappointment you give in response. “I did however, dream of you.”

“Ahh, and what did me and my quite adequate face do in your dream?” You’re smiling again as you scrub at a particularly stubborn stain. He notices the unintentionally alluring way you chew at your bottom lip and is immediately reminded of the way you had looked in his dream, as you waited in anticipation for him to expose his genitals.

He allows himself to wonder how you will react to his next statement; he hopes you’ll be as excited and pliable as you had been in his fantasy. “You were nude, on your knees, performing fellatio on my, well, my vessels penis.”

“Oh!” You respond in a tone that he believes to be humorous and a little surprised. Until you look down at your knees, considering your precarious position. “Oooooh.”

You don’t say anything else, nor do you look back up at him. He begins to worry that he may have said something inappropriate, or that you thought he had disliked the experience.

“It was an enjoyable dream, if that is your concern.” He attempts to offer comfort.

“Well, I suppose that’s good news.” You nod to yourself; your tone gives nothing away. “I wonder if my real-life skills are as enjoyable as your fantasies.”

“I wouldn’t know, we have never…” His line of speech, his thoughts are interrupted by the enticing sight of you crawling towards him. “Oh.”

#supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader #supernatural x reader #spn imagine #gilverrwrites

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via-l0ve · 10 months

Note

ok so hear me out, ( Supernatural), french mistake where they find out that the actor/actress who plays their s/o is dating a different castmate and having to watch them kiss and be all lovey dovey with eachother.

Alternative Universe (SPN pref!) 🩷

a/n: i fucking LOVE this episode. i also love this prompt. thank you so much anon, i hope you enjoy <3

warnings: swearing

Dean:

he’s looking for you - you’re his top priority

being called ‘Jensen’ left and right all he wants is to see his wonderful s/o and have something normal

he turns the corner and sees you

“oh my god. yes. y/n!”

and then he walks closer

you’re kissing fucking castiel

“what the fuck??”

“hey!! y/n!!”

you pull away all confused.

“hey.. dean?”

“since when are you dating cas?”

side eye

“Jensen… you okay? Misha and I have been dating for like… ever.”

he’s gobsmacked

“what the hell.”

he walks away

he’s so angry

you guys are holding hands and smiling and he’s STARING YOU DOWN

“hey y/n. when do we kiss on screen?”

“um… i think today? why?”

he’s making sure you guys get to that kiss scene

“that do anything for you?”

“Jensen!”

definitely holds a grudge when he goes back and he sees castiel

—

Sam:

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again. if there was a word for sam it would be Flabbergasted

he’s searching around frantically for you bc where tf is he and wtf is going on. why are people calling him Jared??

anyways

he sees you and he’s so happy

“hey y/n!”

you smile over at him and wave.

“hey!! whatcha doin?”

“just looking for you. aren’t you freaked out?”

“um… should i be freaked out?”

he’s confused now.

He’s even MORE confused when GODDAMN Dean Winchester comes up to you and kisses you on the cheek

him^

“dean??!” he’s shocked.

“oh. are we supposed to be in character right now?” -jensen

“what the hell?” sam is CONFUSED

“Jared.. you good? you okay?”

he walks away

“i have to get out of whatever hell this is..”

when he gets back he can’t look at Dean the same lmfao

—

Castiel:

Cas is trying to keep his cool but who tf is misha

he finds you and he’s so happy

finally someone he knows that he knows

PLOT TWIST

you turn around and MOTHERFUCKING CROWLEY IS KISSING YOU

cas rn^

he’s SO SAD

“y/n.”

“oh! hey Misha!”

“not you too!!”

awww poor baby

apologize RIGHT NOW.

he gets back and is so happy to see you

he’s hugging you and won’t let you near crowley

—

Crowley:

he sees you kissing sam mf winchester and is SO DISTRAUGHT

“y/n!!”

“oh hey!”

“what the hell is this?”

“… what’s what?”

*frantically motions between the two of you*

“…we’ve been dating for four years?”

he’s mad mad

he’s also just confused

“how could they pick HIM over ME??”

he gets back home and def gives you the silent treatment for like a day

i’m sorry

#love u mwah #thank you sm for this request #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #crowley #crowley x reader

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dotthings · 12 days

Text

"Open to interpretation" does not mean you get to tell Destiel shippers how to see the canon, Karen

After the spntwit drama this week I think it matters to emphasize again how hard the antidestiel hatedom was going against how Jensen rolls when it comes to interpretation.

antidestiels continue to behave as if they believe "open to interpretation" means they themselves can dictate to other fans how to see the canon, and they call Destiel shippers and Misha "disgusting" just for speaking our viewpoints of the canon.

Destiel shippers give our take on the text and antis go "well you can't because JENSEN SAID--"

They very obviously do not listen to what Jensen says. Here is Jensen at Dencon 2021, where he pretty much clears the runway for fans to interpret however we please and his praise and appreciation for those readings: “This is the great thing about the show and I think the relationships and some of these characters is that they’re open for interpretation. If you find identity in a character because of whatever reason, fantastic! Great! If that encourages you to be a better person, or to love someone a little harder, to forgive someone for something, fantastic. That’s—that’s I think that’s one of the beautiful things about what we do is that we get to encourage people on a variety of levels.” -Jensen Ackles, DenCon October 2021

(Antis: But you CAN'T, because JENSEN SAID--)

Antis are stuck in a loop of their own making.

This is not the first time Jensen has conveyed his support for fan interpretation.

Jibcon 2015:

We also know from reports from a virtual m&g a short while after SPN ended that Jensen said he and Misha talked about the confession scene beforehand, and they "didn't want to over-define it" and "the artist isn't going to stand next to that piece of art and tell you what to see. You should be able to see, and it should be able to mean what it means to you and that's--that's the beautiful thing about art." (There is no video, this is pulled from fan reports, but as far as we know this is accurate reporting).

Antis: but you can't because Jensen SAID--

blah blah blah

Yes we can and it's not that we need Jensen's--or anyone's permission--however it's just so heinous how severely antidestiels stomp all over Jensen's respectfulness and protection of fan readings and his appreciation of that, and their lying about how he rolls. They are making very negative insinuations of him, yet somehow everyone else in fandom is the problem but them.

It doesn't add up.

"But you can't say Destiel is real and there was queer coding because JENSEN SAID--"

But Jensen said he's completely cool with how we see it.

He said so.

I have a permit. Jensen signed it. See?

Get over it. Find a new hobby. Move along.

A further thing--note my highlighting on excerpts from an interview with Jensen Ackles about Big Sky concerning the Beau/Jenny relationship. (TV Insider, 1.18.2023)

The phrasing should sound familiar.

Yes, that's right, he's used similar language to speak about Dean and Cas. And this is for a het ship.

"leave the audience wanting more" "we gave just a little bit" "but do we need to play it out in a graphic sex scene?" "a kiss wasn't necessarily needed" "let's tiptoe for now" "fired it up in a way that made it not so sexual...two humans really, truly connecting. It wasn't just like, oh, let's rip each other's clothes off."

Put that next to "I don’t think lust is involved with the romanticism" "there's some people that might try to sexualize that" "it was two sentient beings essentially" (Dencon 2021, Vancon 2022)

Isn't that interesting. (Also isn't it interesting he called it "romanticism"?)

Jensen also said something somewhere about how he would like to do a romantic comedy so long as it involves killing zombies. He doesn't hate romance. It's just that he likes genre and action stuff. He's not against, whether it's queer or straight romances.

He's also said he'd like to do a rom-com slash western playing opposite Misha Collins.

Not telling Destiel shippers what to do, but along with antidestiel misinformation spread, the Destiel lane is justly notorious for flinging accusations at him and I think it's relevant that he speaks about a het ship using similar language, and it's relevant how supportive he is of queer readings.

one last thing, this is old, from Jensen's time on Days of our Lives, but he wasn't against playing a queer character.

#Jensen Ackles #Destiel

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hauntedpearl · 6 months

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like i think a lot of early seasons dean getting mad and then getting over it is like. bad emotional regulation, still, but he's hyperaware that people can and will leave him and there's a line to cross. thinking about that fight they have in scarecrow where dean literally repeats john's words to sam because he just doesn't know what else to say and then literally the next morning he's calling sam and apologizing and telling him that he's proud of him etc. like dean's always mad because his life is shit and he doesn't know how to not take things personally and it's like an understandable mode of existence. but he used to also have these moments where he'd come to his senses because he knows he can't push people too far (sad why he gets here but good in terms of like. just how he ends up treating people i suppose.)

but by the time we get to s15 he's like..he just does not have that fear anymore. and even if he does it's just so fucking warped like thinking about divorce arc!!! he literally was soooo cruel to cas but when cas was walking away he was legit surprised! he was like where the fuck are you going! like.hello??? i don't think he consciously makes them his punching bags but somewhere along the line I think he kind of internalizes that they're all gonna only have each other WITHOUT understanding it properly. so he's like existing in this new reality with the same old trigger happy brain that's on the edge of blowing up at people at all times. but he's got this unearned confidence (which he himself doesn't know where it's coming from and he feels both absolutely entitled to and entirely fucked in the head about (because he still thinks he's not good for anyone and they should all leave him but that's like his worst fear yk)) and it makes him. worse. well worsebetter if you enjoy this kind of spiral into the inevitable cycle of violence but yeah.

#anyway. idk if that made sense #dean meta #mild deancrit I guess? i mean i am not being crit tho i love him I just feel bad about him ajgddjjdd #but could be perceived as such i guess! I GUESS!#i need yo finish my rewatch of this show fr i think it can help me figure out why he's so crazy better #bc rn im operating on faulty memories that are like 8 years old #and that's not helpful #doe is talking again

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river13245 · 5 months

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We are here for you

Navigation / SPN Masterlist

Dean x Reader x Castiel

The sun was starting to set, it was at the perfect height to be directly into your eyes as you drove. You were reaching to pull the sun visor down so it would block at least some of the glare as your phone began to ring.

There were only a select few people who called you. Other people texted because they know you don't like talking on the phone unless it was an emergency. So once the visor was down you picked up your phone to see it was Castiel.

When you answer you put it on speaker and place your phone on your lap as you continued to drive. "Hey angel" the nickname you had for him rolled off your tongue easily and you knew that there would be a soft smile on his face. "hi y/n"

He wasn't one for nicknames really and that was okay. However that wasn't the thing that had you nervous is was the fact that after he had spoke your name a sigh escaped him. "Castiel what's wrong?" he never called you if there was something wrong. He would just appear so the fact that he hasn't yet really has you worried.

"its Dean" his words were forced out as if he was becoming frustrated with something. You knew that Dean wasn't doing to well with the passing of his mom, and the whole Jack situation.

That's actually why you were out running around trying to find any way to get his mom back but also to find any trace of Jack. There hadn't been and you knew they were not going to be happy with how there was no progress being made. "What's going on with him. Is he okay?"

Rustling was heard and a incoherent grumble was heard before you heard Cas telling someone to stay out the fridge. A few moments later Cas spoke into the phone again. "I cant help him this time. He needs you, we need you to come back to the bunker. He's drunk and no one can get him to calm down"

As you rest your head against the seat you sigh. You weren't angry or anything you just had to figure out how you would approach Dean to get him to calm down. "alright ill be there as soon as I can. I love you"

Before he hung up a soft "we love you too" was heard before the beeping sound. Tossing your phone to the passenger seat you pressed on the gas. You were known for always being a safe driver usually but on cases and when people needed you, all caution was thrown to the wind.

When you pull up the bunker you park beside baby and walk inside. The sight inside breaks your heart, Dean is standing with what looks like to be his fourth beer in his hand as he argues with Sam and Cas both. Cas is trying to be gentle with him but you can tell they had just got done arguing because of the tension through the room.

Sam is the first to notice you and he gives you a look that's like "save me". You point to tell him that its okay to leave and so he does but not before kissing the top of your head in a friendly way.

Now it leaves the three of you in the room. You walk up beside Castiel and look at Dean. "Dean can you please put the bottle down?" your voice was soft not wanting to come off as demanding or anything to tip him off but you should have known that wasn't going to work. Instead he lashes out. "of course you come as backup. I'm fine its my fourth beer I don't need you here. Neither does Cas"

The words he spoke were intended to hurt you and it works. He doesn't usually say hurtful things like that towards you its usually your own insecurities and other people that do. But you choose to not feel it at the moment instead you look at him and tell Cas that he can leave. He places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes it letting you know that whatever Dean says isn't true before leaving.

Dean is taking another drink of his beer and you take it from his hands and toss it in the trash. This earns a incoherent mumble of words and you just shake your head. "come on dean you stink of sweat, dirt and alcohol. Lets get you cleaned up we could both use a shower"

As you spoke you were running your hand up and down his arm gently and it seemed to calm him down as he leaned into you. "never seemed to bother you before" This earns him a light slap on his arm as you begin to walk the both of you to the shower.

Closing the door you see him taking off his clothes and then you go over and start the water making sure its a nice temperature for you both. Then you take off your clothes and hold his hands as you walk under the water.

Making sure that he was the one under the water first you run your hands through his hair and then hold his face in your hands. "Dean Love." He looks down at you but doesn't respond "Me and Castiel love you. and so does your brother. Hell there are a lot of people who love you. You aren't alone in this. I promise"

He pulls you into a kiss and its sloppy but you both keep it short because tonight is not the night. "alright now clean yourself up. Ill wash your hair"

When you grab the shampoo he begins to wash off his body. You watch as the dirt washes off him and goes down the drain and then you begin to wash his hair. This results to him resting his head against your chest. Its the reason you choose to wash his hair at times like this.

Your hands run through his hair and scratch gently at his scalp. The whole time you do this he is resting against you. Only pulling away to rinse his hair out and then you do your own routine before the both of you get out and into your pajamas.

Dean had only put on a pair of sweatpants while you put on sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt that was Castiel's. Dean was the first in bed and you got in beside him. When you both get comfortable you grab the remote and turn on scooby doo. This causes Dean to laugh a bit and he watches it.

You knew that Dean would be apologizing tomorrow for how he acted because its something he has been working on is apologizing for when he says or does things that are hurtful to people he loves. So tonight you push it to the side.

Hours later Castiel comes back to the bunker and sees the both of you asleep. He had been out looking for anything that would help us all so it was nice to see the two people he loves most asleep without any worries.

He walks over to the bed and covers the both of you up and kisses you and deans forehead. When he does this he uses some of his power to enter your dreams so he could make sure they were good ones before he walks off after saying "I love you both"

#polyamory #dean winchester x male reader #dean winchester x reader #castiel x male reader #castiel x reader #castiel x dean #dean x castiel #dean x castiel x reader #new blog #supernatural #angst #fluff #river13245 #sam winchester

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winchester-girl67 · 2 years

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Imagine... Wearing Dean's Boxers

Requested by anonymous: “Hi , idk if we can request but can i have a dean or Sam x reader. Where she comes out of the bedroom in his boxers with just a bra on and everyone (aka cas , jack etc.) just observe her because she hasnt notice them yet and dean/sam is just stunned. She probaly just came for water . Plz and thank you . Is it possible i can be tag also . No rush.”

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 828

Warnings: language, implied smut, talks of safe sex and procreation, mostly fluff

A/N: I kind of love Cas and Jack in this one :) Enjoy!

_____

Sam nudged Dean with his foot under the table when you walked into the kitchen. Cas and Jack watched as you made a beeline for the cupboard and reached up on your tip-toes to grab a glass from the top shelf.

Sam kept rearranging everything every time you left for a hunt and you just got back from a solo one last night. He thought the mugs should be lower since they were used for coffee more often, but you didn't drink coffee and hated having to stretch up for the glasses. Next time he left you’d switch it all back again. You weren’t the one who was gonna cave first.

Dean cleared his throat and you fumbled the glass in your hands, catching it before it hit the countertop. You shot him a dirty look for scaring you and started again when you spotted the boys. Cas and Jack watched with curious expressions while Sam avoided all eye contact and turned beet red.

You had a kind of will-they-won’t-they relationship going on with Dean since you’d moved into the bunker and last night after a close call with a demon, you finally did. But you weren’t expecting the others to find out this way. Standing in the kitchen dressed in your good bra and Dean’s Scooby-Doo boxers which hugged your hips and the gentle curve of your thighs.

You wrapped an arm around your bare stomach wishing you had stopped to change in your room first, but it was in the opposite direction of the kitchen and you were damn thirsty after the late night’s more amorous activities.

Fuck it, you thought after a moment of self-consciousness and went back to filling your glass with ice cold tap water. You chugged it down and wiped your chin before refilling it again; a few droplets hit your chest and ran down the valley of your breasts. You made a satisfying ‘Ah’ sound and placed the glass in the sink.

Dean was biting his lip when you turned back to face the boys who were sitting at the table with breakfast laid out in front of them. Jack had some sort of chocolatey cereal, Sam had a kale salad of course, and Dean had a plate stacked full of just bacon. You sauntered over and stole the crispy piece Dean had in his hand and smiled.

Dean huffed and frowned and Sam chuckled as he pushed around his kale and vinaigrette. That’s when you noticed Jack staring at your chest and you scrunched your forehead in return.

"What's that?" He asked before you could snap at him for being rude, although you knew he didn’t know any better especially with Dean as a role model. "Did you get hurt?" He pointed to the purple splotch above your clavicle.

And it was your turn to turn all rosy as you shook your head. "Uh, Dean, you wanna answer this one?" It was a hickey, a lover’s bite; Dean’s mark to be exact.

"Nope, I'm good." He said, shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth and grinning up at you as he subtly eyed his handiwork. It wasn’t the only one, but it was the darkest one.

Jack looked confused, “Why would Dean know what happened?" He asked you but then furrowed his brow at Dean who just shrugged.

"I think this has something to do with the giggling and provocative language we heard coming from his bedroom last night." Cas explained, “They're marks of mating."

"Thank you, Cas." Dean said around a mouthful of half chewed bacon and coughed when he inhaled a piece.

Cas slapped him on the back, dislodging the bacon. “You're welcome." He said, missing the sarcasm in Dean’s voice.

“Wait,” Jack raised his hand and thought for a moment, “Am I going to be a big brother? Just like Dean?!”

“Uh, Dean?” You said, not wanting to answer.

You were hardly there in your relationship yet. If it was a relationship, you and Dean hadn’t hammered out the details. Though you hammered out a few other things…

Dean cleared his throat, “Cas?”

Cas took the opportunity to explain again, “Yes, it is my understanding that mating leads to procreation.”

Jack beamed at the thought and bounced in his seat like a giddy child. Sam snorted and spit out the bite of kale he just took. He laughed, clearly and thoroughly enjoying himself at yours and his brother’s expense.

You and Dean had taken the necessary precautions and someone was going to have to explain that to Jack and probably Cas too; but that sure as hell wasn’t going to be you. That sounded more like a Dean job.

“Oh my gosh,” you sighed into your palm and shook your head.

Sure, the night before was like you and Dean were making up for lost time, but you never thought you’d be the one things were moving too fast for. Though, there’s a first for everything.

_________________________ Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33 @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891

Forever SPN: @hobby27

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 1 year

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Facetime

Masterlist

Summary: You and Dean facetime whenever he goes on a hunt, but things go south when he and Sam are miles away

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Rating: R for language, violence

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: language, blood, violence, torture, hostage situation, implied nudity, injured reader, mind control, starts off fluffy but gets real dark real quick, reader is a fan of Chris Evans

Author’s Note: This is loosely based on a dream I had and I know this gif is Dean looking at a coffee maker, but if you squint the coffee maker looks like a laptop :) Also, I don’t usually use capital letters (intentionally, but for no particular reason) but I thought I’d see how my writing looks with capital letters.

gif source

“Dean I don’t think your mic’s working,” You furrowed your brows in frustration, trying to tell him you couldn’t hear a word he was saying.

“Yeah it was off, that makes sense,” He laughed lightly. You smiled, happy to hear his voice and see his face. Sam and Dean had been on this hunt for nearly four days at this point and you missed your boyfriend so much it was driving you crazy.

You weren’t much of a hunter; you preferred to keep a safe distance and help with research, instead of picking up a machete and chopping up vampires. Dean knew you preferred to stay home and he was happy with you being out of the line of fire. He’d hate himself if he let you get hurt on a hunt, you were his everything.

It was hard, though. You lived in the bunker but you still didn’t spend as much time with Dean as you would’ve liked to. You wanted to be with him each night instead of falling asleep to either his music playing on vinyl or his voice over the phone if you were lucky enough to be in the same time zone. Most of the time you’d go days without hearing his voice.

That was until Sam had the brilliant (but blatantly obvious, you couldn’t believe you hadn’t come up with it) idea of you and Dean facetiming while doing research for the case; as opposed to just texting each other important details.

“So, what’re you hunting?” You asked. Your laptop was set up next to your phone which is what you were calling Dean from. You were seated in the library and eager to help however you could.

“Sam’s thinking a god,” Dean sighed. “He’s out getting the food.”

“And you’re doing the research?” You laughed.

“Well, I wanted to talk with you, and see that beautiful face of yours,” He smirked. “Sammy can do the actual research when he gets back, should be soon.”

“I miss you,” You smiled, he did the same.

“I miss you, too, hun. How’re you doing? Cas is gonna get back home tomorrow morning so you won’t have the whole bunker to yourself for much longer.”

“It’s really lonely,” You laughed wryly. “As an introvert, I swore never to say this, but I kinda wish more people lived here.”

“Yeah, I know it’s... it’s not ideal,” He gave you a sympathetic look. “Y’know there’s a library in town you could go to if you don’t wanna be alone.”

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna head over there. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight, I’m really starting to go stir-crazy!”

“Wanna stay on the phone while you drive over there?” Dean asked hopefully.

“Of course!” You emphasized. “I’m so happy I finally get to talk to you for the first time today! I’m just gonna change into something more presentable real quick.”

“It’s 2pm on a Tuesday and you’re going to a public library; who are you thinking you might run into?” He teased lightly.

“Hey if I go not looking my best and Chris Evans just happens to be there I would kick myself!” You replied honestly. “Gimme a second.” You put the phone on your dresser and faced it away from where you would be changing.

“Y/n, I’ve seen you naked, you can change in front of me!” He sighed dramatically when you didn’t respond right away. “C’mon, I miss you!”

“You only get to see these boobs when you hurry up, finish that case, and get your ass back here!” You called out to him as you got dressed.

“That’s no fair,” Dean whined. You finished getting dressed pretty quickly and grabbed your phone off your dresser and your purse off your desk before you left the room.

“Okay I’m heading out now,” You smiled at your phone as you walked up to the entrance of the bunker.

“Which car are you taking?” Dean asked.

“Mine; it’s parked outside, not in the garage. why?”

“Just wanna know you’ll be safe getting there. A lot of the cars in the garage tend to break down at random,” He replied. You hopped into your car and set your phone on the stand that was attached to the front window.

“Ah, shit,” You winced suddenly, your hands now pressed against your temples. “De, something’s wrong-” You croaked out. Your head felt like it was going to explode as your vision began getting blurry.

“Y/n? Y/n, talk to me! What’s happening,” Dean exclaimed, his voice ripe with panic.

The pounding in your head suddenly stopped as your vision went black and you passed out.

Your head was throbbing as you woke up. You tried bringing your hands to your head but then realized you were tied to a chair. You then also realized you were wearing nothing but a bra and your boy-short panties.

“What the fuck,” You mumbled to yourself. You tightened your fists and pulled against the restraints.

“It’s no use, y/n,” A voice behind you announced. “You’re not going anywhere anytime soon. who knows, you might even die here.”

“Y/n? Y/n!” Dean exclaimed. He was completely panicking as he watched your car door open and someone pull you out of the driver’s seat.

“Dean Winchester!” The man picked up the cell phone and showed Dean his face; complete with hideous black eyes. “Looks like I now have the thing you care about most,” The demon laughed.

“You son of a bitch,” Dean screamed. “You hurt her and I swear I will-”

“What? What’re you gonna do Dean? Kill me? You don’t know where I’m taking her and I’m dumping this meat suit before you get the chance to figure out this guy’s name. No, you can’t do anything, Dean. You are completely and utterly powerless. I have the bitch you seem to love so much, and there’s nothing you can do.”

“What do you want?” Dean seethed through gritted teeth. He slammed his fist on the table next to him. “What do you fucking want?”

“To watch you suffer,” The demon smirked then hung up.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean screamed. He grabbed the chair he was sitting on and threw it to the side in frustration.

“Dean, what the hell?” Sam exclaimed. He had walked in right as the chair hit the wall. “I take a little too long getting the burgers and you start breaking the furniture?” He laughed lightly.

“Y/n,” Dean shouted. “A demon has y/n!”

“What the fuck? How? When?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“Just now, we- we were facetiming and she was gonna go to the library- and she- it just took her Sam- I-” Tears welled in Dean's eyes as he looked at his younger brother with desperation.

“What do you want from me?” You asked the demon. He was now kneeling in front of you as he toyed with your hair.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” He smiled wickedly. “You see, you are very important to Dean Winchester; I hate Dean Winchester. I want him to suffer. Having you locked up in here is the easiest way to torture him. He’ll find you eventually, I’m sure, but you’ll be so broken and beaten you won’t ever be the same. You’ll never be his cheerful y/n again. You’ll be worn down by what I'm going to do to you, you’re not going to want to be anywhere near him. And that will break his heart beyond repair - that will be the ultimate torture. I'll be known as the demon who destroyed Dean Winchester’s will to live.”

“You’re wrong,” You whispered. “Dean cares about me, sure, but losing me isn’t gonna break him, you idiot! He'll be over me within a few months then he will hunt you down and tear you limb from limb.”

“Maybe,” The demon shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see how long it takes him to get over you.” He pulled a knife out of his back pocket and plunged it into your thigh. You screamed in pain as tears streamed down your face. You looked down at the blood now dripping down your thigh then looked back up.

“D-Dean?” You whispered. “Wh-What’s going on?” Your head was spinning as you tried to focus on the man in front of you. “Dean! Dean, you found me?”

“Yeah, hun, it’s me,” The demon held your face with his hands.

“H-Help me out of here,” You quivered, confused as to why Dean was so calm. He shook his head, smiled, then gripped the knife and twisted it. “Y-You’re not Dean!”

“Of course I am, y/n! And I'm so happy I finally get to show you how I really feel about you,” He smiled. He took the knife out and pressed it against your left breast. “You know I never really cared much about you, you’re just an easy lay.”

“You’re not Dean,” You closed your eyes tightly. “Dean loves me.”

“Awe, that’s really sweet y/n, but of course I'm Dean! And I wouldn’t say I love you, more like I love having my own pathetic fucktoy handy at all times,” He patted your cheek. “I mean, let’s face it; all we do when I'm not hunting is have sex! Why else would I want you living with me?”

“That’s- That’s not true!” You whispered, more to yourself than to the monster posing as the love of your life. “We have movie nights, we bake pie, we have dinner together, we-”

“Do we?” He touched your temple with two fingers. “Dean never did any of that with you.”

“Y-You never did any of that with me,” You mumbled.

“Days, Sam! It's been days!” Dean shouted. “Y/n is still with that fucking demon!”

“I know it’s been days, Dean but you need to sleep. Just four hours; recharge and come back with a clear head.”

“Do you think y/n is able to sleep? Or have a second of peace or quiet! She is being tortured by a demon, because of me!”

“Cas will be back with some information in a few hours, until then you should sleep,” Sam suggested. “Look, we’ve done all we can for right now, you’re no use to y/n if you’re too tired to function!”

Before Dean could protest, his phone rang and he answered; “Hello?”

“Dean Winchester,” the voice replied.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“I’m the demon that’s got y/n,” He replied. Dean could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I swear to God I will find you and-”

“And you’ll kill me, blah, blah, blah; you’ve said that before. I'm just calling to let you know you can have her back. I'll text you the address.” The demon hung up.

“What-” Dean brought his phone down, confused. “That was the demon, he said he’s texting me the address where y/n is,” He told Sam.

“What? That makes no sense?”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t lying,” Dean held up his phone and showed Sam the text.

“It’s definitely a trap, right?”

“Doesn't matter, let's go; we can meet Cas there.”

“Dean, that's at least a six-hour drive; let me drive so you can sleep,” Sam offered. Dean was ridiculously tired and he knew he wasn’t at his full strength so he decided to take a nap on the way.

“Y/n! Oh my god!” Dean exclaimed when he walked into the dark warehouse and saw you tied to the chair.

“Sam?” You breathed out. “Cas?” You smiled slightly, barely lifting your head.

“Hey- Hey hun,” Dean crouched down and held your face.

“What, now you’re all sweet?” You scoffed, then looked past him and up at his younger brother. “Sam, please help me! Dean, he- he did this to me.”

“What? No! No, no, I would never! I love you," Dean stuttered, not taking his eyes off you. He untied your right hand and you punched the side of his head, which caused him to fall to the side.

“Cas! Please! You guys have to believe me!”

“It's okay, you’re safe now,” Cas came up to you. He put two fingers on your forehead and healed you. “We’re gonna take you home, okay?”

“Okay,” You replied as the angel untied you. Sam looked around for your clothes and, surprisingly, found them off to the side and folded neatly. Cas helped you up as Sam handed you your jeans and shirt, and you happily put them on. Dean was standing up at this point, but he just stood there; silent tears falling as he looked at you.

“Y/n- Hun, please- please tell me you know this wasn’t me!” He whispered, you looked over at him. “Please you- you know it was a demon!”

“Oh and where is this demon now, Dean?” You asked flatly, Dean stayed silent. “You know, I fucking trusted you!” Tears escaped your eyes and you brushed them away quickly. You continued, gritting your teeth in anger, “I hate you.”

“Let’s get you home,” Sam interrupted, he knew Dean didn’t do this and he needed to figure out how to make you know too. You nodded and followed Castiel out the door, Sam followed you and, after a moment, Dean did too.

Cas opened the back door for you while Sam opened the passenger door.

“Sam, can you drive?” You asked him quietly. “Please? I know you don’t believe me about Dean, but I don't trust him; please don’t let him drive.”

“Sweetheart, I-” Dean started, overhearing what you said to Sam.

“Don’t you dare call me that,” You hissed and pointed your finger at him with anger. You turned back to Sam, “If it was up to me, I’d say cuff him; but at least don’t let him be the fucking driver!” With that, you hopped in the back seat, Cas doing the same after you.

Dean took the demon cuffs out of his back pocket and handed them to Sam before holding his hands behind him.

“Seriously?” Sam scoffed.

“I want her to feel safe,” Dean replied. “Well, as safe as she can feel while I'm still in proximity.” Sam nodded and cuffed his older brother before they both got into the car; Sam in the driver’s seat.

“You really don’t believe me?” You practically screamed. You were all back at the bunker and Sam was refusing to lock Dean up in the dungeon.

“It's not that I don’t believe you-”

“Then do something!”

“Sam, Dean, can I talk to you?” Cas asked and the three went around the corner, you huffed to yourself and sat at the war room table. “There’s something really wrong with y/n.”

“Yeah, Cas, we can tell,” Dean replied.

“No, I mean, really wrong! When I healed her at the warehouse, I could feel something pushing back.”

“What do you think that means?” Sam asked.

“I think we need to call Crowley. He’s had a soft spot for y/n for a while now, maybe he’ll know what’s wrong.”

“Yeah, great! Let another demon get their hands on her,” Dean scoffed sarcastically.

“Crowley isn’t just ‘another demon’ Dean; he might be able to reverse whatever’s happened here!” Castiel retorted.

“Fine, fine we’ll give him a call,” Dean sighed. The three of them walked back around the corner but you weren’t sitting at the table anymore. “Y/n?” Dean called out, beginning to panic.

Sam rushed outside while Dean checked your bedroom and Cas checked the garage.

“Y/n, what’re you doing?” Dean asked. You frantically threw clothes into your duffle and didn’t answer him. “Sweet- Uh, sorry- y/n please,” Dean stumbled over his words.

“I’m leaving Dean, and I never want to see you again!” You exclaimed and tried to brush past him. He gently gripped your forearm to pull you back and your demeanor changed. “Please, please don’t hurt me,” You whispered; tears welled in your eyes as Dean’s widened. He let go of you and put his hands up, backing away.

“No, no I- I’m not going to hurt you, y/n, I wanna help you,” He said calmly. “We all do. Please, don’t go.”

“Why are you being so sweet now, I don’t understand,” You let the tears fall. “Is it just cause of Sam and Cas? Is that it? You’d like to take out your knife and get back to work but you don’t want your baby brother and your best friend to see you torturing me?”

“I- I don’t know what to say, y/n,” He replied, also letting tears fall. “I swear that was not me!”

“Right, right it was a demon,” You scoffed. “Seriously, Dean? The least you could do is own up to what you did, for fuck’s sake! But I guess I should’ve seen this coming, huh?”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You only ever cared about my body, Dean! Was just a matter of time before you got bored and used what Alastair taught you!”

“What? Y/n we’ve known each other for ten years, we’ve only been dating the last two! We didn’t even sleep together the first four months because we wanted to take it slow; do you not remember any of this?”

“Does this actually work on people?” You laughed. “You fake a few tears, look at them with lost puppy eyes, and try to make them believe such ridiculous lies?”

“Y/n!” Castiel called out from behind you. He had checked the garage and when he didn’t see you there he decided to check the kitchen and then head over to your bedroom.

“Castiel, please get me out of here!” You hurried to his side. “Dean won’t let me leave!”

“No- I-” Dean tried to protest but then just shook his head in defeat, not wanting to make things worse.

“We have a working theory going about what happened,” Cas lied to you. “We think Dean may have been possessed before, and the demon that possessed him may still be looking for you. You should stay here in the bunker where it’s safe, okay?”

“Okay, Cas, I trust you,” You clung to his arm, still terrified of Dean.

“Dean, why don’t you get Sam and meet me in the dungeon in a few minutes,” Cas asked him. “Y/n, you can stay in your room until we know more.”

It took Crowley a couple of days to figure out what the demon did but once he did, he called Dean and was summoned to the bunker.

“It’s a hex bag,” He said before his trademark, “Hello, boys.”

“A hex bag? Where?” Sam asked. “She’s changed clothes, we’re nowhere near the warehouse-”

“According to Frank-”

“Frank? The demon’s name is Frank?” Dean scoffed.

“Yes,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Frank said he carved it into her thigh.”

“Good Lord,” Sam muttered.

“How do we get it out?” Dean asked Crowley. “We can’t just cut back into her!”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Crowley replied.

“No! She’s already terrified we can’t-”

“I can put her to sleep,” Castiel suggested. “She shouldn’t feel a thing.”

“Well, let’s get this over with,” Crowley walked out of the dungeon and over to your room.

“What’s he doing here?” You glared at Dean when the four men entered your bedroom. You had been seated on your couch reading when Crowley knocked and opened the door.

“Dean, maybe you should wait outside,” Sam told him quietly. Dean nodded slightly and backed out of the room.

“She’s asking for you,” Sam smiled a little, walking into the library to find Dean downing another glass of whiskey.

“Seriously!? She wants to see me?” He practically jumped out of the chair and then hurried to your room. He took a deep breath and opened your door.

You were at the edge of your bed with one knee tucked against you. When Dean entered, you looked at him with tear-stained eyes and let a quiet sob leave your lips.

“I’m so sorry,” You whispered. “De, I’m so, so sorry!”

“No, no, no it’s- none of this is your fault,” He hurried to your side but hesitated to wrap his arms around you. “Can I… Can I hug you? Please?”

“Of course,” You replied and wrapped your arms around him when he held you. “I love you so much, Dean, I’m so sorry I believed the demon.”

“It’s not your fault, it was a hex bag,” He kissed the crown of your head. “You didn’t have a choice.”

“I know, but I should’ve been able to snap out of it!” You protested. “I mean, these hands,” You took his left hand and held it, kissing his palm gently. “I love these hands, how could I have believed that they, that you hurt me?” You kissed his hand again then looked up at him. “I’m sorry, for what I said.”

“It’s okay,” He kissed your forehead. “I’m just glad you’re okay, that you’re back.” The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while before Dean asked you, “How are you feeling?”

“Physically? Fine. Emotionally? Fucking terrible,” You replied, squeezing Dean tighter. “I keep getting these like flashbacks about what the demon did, and in a lot of the memories the demon still looks like you.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart, that sounds awful!”

“Yeah,” You sighed. “I'll be okay though, I’ve got you.”

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