#pining!dean

[puttingthekininkings]

For keeps for good forever is devastating I highly recommend it. I’m am shattered and broken and torn apart from the inside out and you have to read it right now it’s not that long. It’s by candle_beck and everything by them hits hard as hell and leaves me feeling hollow I love their works so much

#samdean #sam/dean #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #pining!dean #wincest

[casdeans-pie]

That trope when two people are sneaking around somewhere and nearly get caught so one of them drags the other into a passionate kiss and they escape notice.......

That. but it's season 6 painfully-pining-for-each-other Castiel and Dean.

They're sneaking around a building for a hunt when they both realise that they're about to get caught and there's nowhere to go.

Cas quickly turns around and slams Dean against a wall and suddenly they're kissing.

They're kissing and kissing and Dean is making noises into Cas's mouth and he's pulling him in as close as he can and Cas is pressing against him as close as he can and Dean's hands are diving deep into Cas's hair and the kissing just keeps going faster and deeper and hotter and they're pressed so close together and

Cas pulls back slightly and they're both panting (even though angels don't breathe) and Dean blinks a few times like he's coming out of a dream (even though Cas never stops in his dreams) and he says softly, What. the fuck. was that????

Cas looks wrecked. His hair is a mess and his blue eyes are glowing and he stares at Dean while he tries to catch his breath (even though angels don't breathe) and Dean stares back (even though Dean's eyes keep flicking back to Cas's mouth) and Cas eventually rumbles, I had to touch your skin to make you invisible with me.

Dean licks his lips and takes a deep breath through his nose but neither of them have moved and they're still pressed against the wall and they're still pressed against each other and Cas is still only inches from his face

And yeah the monsters must have gone. so it obviously worked. but

Dean swallows hard. He searches Cas's face and he thinks and he hopes and he already knows what he wants the answer to be when he asks, Why didn't you just touch my forehead? Or uh- hold my hand?? Fly us away???

And Cas just stares. and stares and stares. He brings his fingers up to touch Dean's lips gently. so so gently. and Dean can't help it when he parts them slightly and he sighs and

Cas disappears to the sound of wingbeats

Dean throws his hands up and yells, OH, C'MON!

#Dean 5 seconds after Cas made out with him: but does he LIKE like me??? #destiel #destiel ficlet #i love it when theyre mutually pining idiots #deancas #castiel's angel powers #spn ficlet #castiel #dean winchester #pie's projects #destiel headcanon

[kaleldobrev]

Mutual Pining

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean and you are in love with each other, and it's obvious to everyone but the two of you

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Cursing (10x), Mutual Pining, Fluff

Authors Note: Switches between reader and Deans “POV” but still written in the third person | This came out a lot longer than I thought, but I loved the way it turned out! I hope you guys do too! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

For as long as you’ve known Dean, he has always been incredibly nice to you, which initially surprised you given his gruff exterior. Growing up, you were always told to never judge a book by its cover, and things aren’t always what they seem to be; and you had felt that this truly applied to Dean. Despite his appearance (although a very attractive one you had to admit) and his very I don’t give a fuck attitude he sometimes gave off, he was genuinely one of the nicest, funniest, charismatic, loving, and selfless people that you have ever met in your entire life. He was just someone that wanted more than anything to love someone (to be loved by someone) – and craved touch.

He was a catch in all senses of the word: he was smart, sexy, cute, he could sing (well not good, but at least he liked doing karaoke!), he could cook and bake (you were teaching him a lot about baking lately, even though he did already know a thing or two), he was handy (both when it came to cars and household maintenance), and he was a nerd (Star Wars, horror movies, Star Trek, cartoons, you name it). For as long as you had known him, it amazed you that someone hadn’t snatched him up yet. Well, you knew about some of these instances (Cassie or Lisa for example), but Dean seemed to be under the impression that the reason it never seemed to work out with these women is because of the job, or he would blame himself. “I just don’t think you found the right woman yet.” You had told him. This had earned you a weird look from Dean, and since then, you hadn’t given your two cents into his love life, despite being one of his closest confidants.

For as long as Dean has known you, you’ve always been incredibly nice to him; even when he knew he didn’t deserve it. When he had met you years ago, it took him by surprise to find out that you were a hunter given your exterior and extremely bubbling personality and positive energy that you radiated (he would later come to start calling you Sunshine as he considered you the light of his life in his ever so present and consistent cloudy days he called his life). “Just because you’re a hunter, doesn’t mean you have to be depressed all the time.” You had said to him. “But we’ve all witnessed and endured horrible things. Don’t know how you can still be so happy.” He had said back to you. You had simply shrugged stating, “You have your way of coping, and I have mine.” What Dean had initially thought that he hated about you (you being that Ray of Sunshine) had actually grown into something that he would love and appreciate about you.

Something that he always tended to carry in the back of his mind is quote that you had frequently said: Never judge a book by its cover, and things aren’t always what they seem to be; and he felt that your quote really did apply to you. Despite the type of energy that you give off, and despite your colorful array of clothing, you were genuinely one of the best hunters that he has ever met or worked with in his life.

You were a catch in all senses of the word. You were smart, cunning, funny, cute, sexy (even when you weren’t even remotely trying to be). You knew how to cook and bake (he was particularly fond of your peach and apple pies that you had made), you could sing (despite you saying how awful you were, your voice had sounded like honey to him), and you knew how to shoot a gun almost as good as him (in reality, you were probably a much better shot, but he would never admit that). It amazed him that you hadn’t settled down yet, even though he knew that was something that you had wanted to do at some point in your life. “I guess I just haven’t found the right yet guy. Just like how you haven’t found the right woman yet.” You had told him. “He’s sitting right in front of you Sunshine,” he had desperately wanted to say to you.

It was a lazy Sunday at the Bunker, and since there was no cases you had decided that you were going to do some baking today. You had promised Dean that you would him your famous peach and apple pie sometime this week, and since that was something you promised him last Tuesday, you were getting near close to almost falling through with your promise – something that you didn’t want to do, especially when it came to Dean.

Dean didn’t ask for much. So when he asked ever so politely if you could make this for him adding “no rush of course” at the end of his request, you were more than happy to oblige. This man has saved your ass more times than you could possibly count, and never asked for anything in return. So, the least you could do for the man was bake him a pie right?

Walking into the kitchen you were wearing your comfy clothes which consisted of a very faded AC/DC shirt that Dean had lent you they you had never given back (to be fair, he never asked for it back), a plain hot pink sweatshirt, black sweatpants and hot pink fuzzy socks.

Rolling up your sleeves, you walked over to the cabinet to grab everything they you would need in order to make the pie for Dean. Technically speaking, you were making the pie for everyone to enjoy, but you knew the second Dean for a whiff of the peachy and appley goodness, he would most likely hoard this (not that you had a problem with that, you were happy that he enjoyed your cooking and baking that much).

Placing your phone on the counter, you decided to play some music, picking the playlist you had rightfully named “Baking/Cooking Jams” (pun intended), so the quietness didn’t seem so eerie to you. You didn’t like the quiet at times, but you had such fond memories of singing along and dancing along to the music when you were a little girl in the kitchen with your mom or grandma.

One of the things that you appreciated, was the fact that none of the boys made fun of you while you did this (not that it would have bothered you if they did), but you half expected one of them to say something. The closest any of them had gotten to “making fun” of or commenting on your dance moves or singing had come from Dean, and his comments which very complimentary. You were so thrown off, that at first you thought he was fucking with you.

It’s been almost a week since Dean had requested you make your famous peach and apple pie, and there was a part of him that was starting to get just a tad disappointed when you hadn’t made it yet. But one of the things that was holding him together, was the fact that you always kept your promises and followed through with them (it was one of the things that he loved about you. He had asked for the pie on Tuesday, and it was now Sunday. He had wanted to re-ask you, but decided against it because he didn’t want to seem pushy and he didn’t want to bother you with what he seemed to be a silly request. “You could never bother her Dean. Trust me.” Sam had told him numerous times.

As Dean walked down the hallway of the Bunker, he could hear the quiet sounds of your music coming from the kitchen. The only reason he knew that it was your music is because he recognized the current song that was playing as a part of “Baking/Cooking Jams” playlist (pun intended). He smiled, hoping that since you were listening to this playlist it meant that you were baking something - specifically, baking the pie that you had promised him.

Dean peaked his head into the kitchen and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight before him. You were bopping your head, quietly singing along, and shaking your shoulders to the music as you were lining a tin with your homemade pie crust. You were wearing your hot pink sweatshirt (something that he loved always seeing you wear) and your fuzzy socks (another thing that he secretly loved). Wonder what’s underneath. Hope it’s one of my shirts…or nothing at all…He thought to himself. No Dean, don’t think that way.

Almost as if you could read his mind (which he knew you couldn’t do and was extremely thankful that you couldn’t) you stopped your dancing and looked at him, giving him the biggest smile you could muster up. “Hey you!” Your voice sounded so cheerful, so inviting, it practically made him melt.

“Hey Sunshine.” He said, walking into the kitchen and making his way to the island. “Whatcha making?” He asked, as if he couldn’t tell from the fresh cut apples and peaches on the counter in front of him.

“Your favorite.” You smiled, alternating between placing the peaches and apples into the pie tin. “Sorry it took so long Dean.”

Your apology surprised him. “Why are you saying sorry?” He questioned; you literally had no reason to be apologizing to him right now.

“Well, I know you asked for this Tuesday and it’s Sunday now.” Your voice that was once full of joy, was now sounding almost slightly sad and embarrassed, almost as if you were disappointed in yourself. “I swear I didn’t forget. Got a bit sidetracked with research this week.” You looked down just then, finishing up with the filling.

“Hey.” He began to say and you looked up at him. “Please don’t apologize for something like that okay?” You nodded. “Need any help?”

You shook your head. “I’m good Dean. But thanks for the offer.” You said, placing the pie into the oven.

“It’ll be ready soonish.” You gave him a smile. He could sense that you were trying to go back to your joyful voice, but you seemed still slightly upset, despite you having no reason to be.

Although you said you didn’t need the help, Dean started to gather all of the dirty dishes that you had made while you were baking. “Dean, you don’t have to do that.” You said as you watched him bring all of the dishes into the sink.

He turned the faucet on and looked at you. “It’s the least I can do Y/N.”

“I would have done it.” You walked over to the sink, picking up a dish rag and started drying the dishes he was finished washing. He looked at you briefly before letting out a small chuckle. “What?”

“Sweetheart, no you wouldn’t have. You would have left the dishes in the sink and I would have come to clean them up anyway. I know you love baking and cooking, but you hate the clean up.” You had started to open your mouth to comment, but you knew what he had said to you was the truth. Yes, you didn’t mind doing dishes, but you hated doing a large amount of dishes.

“I see Y/N finally made you your pie.” Sam said, gesturing to the giant slice of pie that Dean came walking into the War Room with.

Dean walked over with the biggest smile on his face. “It’s her best one yet.” Dean said, mouth full of pie. He sat down across from Sam who was on his laptop. “I really do think the singing and dancing helps.”

“I don’t know why you just don’t tell her.” Sam said.

“She knows I like her singing and dancing.” Dean took a mouthful of pie and Sam couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his brother.

“I mean how you feel about her.” Sam’s comment had made Dean stop chewing his pie mid bite before he gulped it down.

Dean went to open his mouth, to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything clever or snarky to say. “I’ll pass.” He decided to say.

“You’ll…pass? What does that even mean?” For as long as Sam had been around you and Dean, it seemed completely obvious to everyone that you two had feelings for each other, but for some reason, it seemed like neither of you understood that you two had feelings for each other.

“I said, I’ll pass.” Dean repeated. “What about that can’t you wrap your head around?”

“Dean, you’ve been in love with Y/N since you’ve met her. Which, honestly, is quite a record.” Sam had never seen his brother be so in love with someone before, let alone being in love with someone for as long as he had been in love with you.

“Look Sam, she doesn’t like me in the way okay? I’ve made my peace with that. Why would I tell her that I love her if she doesn’t feel the same way? Sounds very silly to me.” Dean got up from his chair and walked out of the room with this now empty plate.

You were lying down on your bed with your laptop in front of you researching. You weren’t really researching anything in particular, just random things that had peaked your interest. As you were typing away, a small knock came from the other side of your door. “Who is it?” You asked.

“It’s Sam.”

“Come in!” You called back, the door opening and quickly shutting just as fast. You questioned the abruptness of the door. “Everything alright?”

“Peachy.” Sam replied. He pointed to the edge of your bed. “Can I sit?” You nodded.

“Did you get to try any of the pie yet? Or did Dean finish it already?” You joked, closing your laptop.

“No, not yet. He uh, he didn’t finish it yet shockingly.” Sam’s expression looked at you more serious now. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” You smiled.

“Have you ever thought about telling Dean how you feel?” His question seemed to be coming out of nowhere.

“I…No.” You had wanted to tell Dean more than anything how you felt about him, but you knew that he didn’t feel the same way about you. “Why would I tell Dean that I love him when I know for a fact that he doesn’t feel the same way? It’s a little silly don’t you think?” Sam couldn’t help but almost let out a laugh. You two really are meant for each other. Sam thought to himself.

“But what if, there actually is a chance that he loves you too?” Sam asked.

You laughed. “Don’t you think he would have told me by now?”

“What if he’s afraid of the same thing you are?”

“Meaning…?” You weren’t completely sure of the point that Sam was trying to make to you.

“Meaning, what if he loves you too but thinks that you don’t love him back?” You furrowed your brow at Sam’s question.

“Dean afraid of telling me how he feels?” You laughed. “He doesn’t love me Sammy, trust me. I know what he looks like when he’s in love, and that ain’t the same way he looks at me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Sam challenged.

Dean and you both were laying awake at night, thinking about the comments that Sam had said to the both of you. The both of you had similar thoughts in your minds: Does Dean really love me? Does Y/N really love me? Have I been reading the signals all wrong?

“Sam wouldn’t just bring that up if he didn’t say something right?” You said quietly aloud to yourself.

“Did Y/N say something to him?” Dean said quietly aloud to himself.

“I could easily ask him.” You said.

“No, no. I can’t just ask her.” Dean said.

“Sam’s fucking with me.” You and Dean said in unison.

“No…Sam wouldn’t do that.” You rationalized with yourself.

“No, Sam wouldn’t fuck with me like that.” Dean rationalized with himself.

“He’s literally right down the fucking hall. I could just…be hypothetical?” You questioned.

“It’s three in the morning. She’s probably sleeping.” He said.

“Fuck it.” You two said in unison, both practically jumping out of your beds.

You opened your door and started making your way down the hall. As you were walking, you were trying to keep your composure despite how nervous you were in that moment. “Don’t chicken out now Y/N.” You mumbled.

“Alright. You got this. You got this.” Dean mumbled. “Don’t be a pussy now.”

Your head was down, but just up enough to catch yourself if someone else was in the hallway. As you were walking you noticed Dean coming down the hallway, he seemed nervous and you wondered why.

“Fuck I can’t do this.” You whispered and started turning around back toward your room.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice had made you stop in your tracks, making you turn back toward him.

“Hey.” You tried to make your breath even. “What are…What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He replied.

“I asked you first.” You said.

“I…Wanted to talk to you.” He sounded so nervous.

“At three in the morning?” You questioned.

“Yeah I uh…You know what, this can wait till later.” He said, starting to turn back into the direction of his room.

For some reason you had found yourself running after him, like you were in some cheesy romcom that you both secretly loved. “Wait.” You grabbed his arm, and he almost spun back in your direction.

Dean looked at you before looking at your hand. It amazed him each and every time how soft they had felt whenever you touched him. God, what I’d do to feel your hands all over. He thought to himself. “What’s up?”

“Dean…” He watched you take a deep breath. You were nervous and he could tell. He had known you long enough to know what you were feeling by just your body language.

You removed your hand from his arm, and he already missed the contact. “Y/N?” He asked.

“I uh…Can we talk in your room?” You asked, and he found himself automatically nodding.

“Of course.” He gave you a smile, hoping that would comfort you in some way.

You didn’t realize how nervous you truly were until you had made your way into Dean’s room. You had been in his room numerous of times (even spending the night in here) and it always strangely gave you comfort, but not in this moment. It was one of the rare occurrences in which even the calmness his room usually gave you, ceased to help you.

Dean shut the door behind you, something that made you even more nervous. You weren’t afraid that the door was shut, a majority of the time you and him had been in your room or his room, the door was usually shut. “I can, I can leave it open if you want?” He almost questioned, gesturing toward the door.

“No. No. It’s fine.” You said. “Can I…Mind if I sit on your bed?” You asked. It felt strange asking to sit on his bed. In normal circumstances, you would have just walked into his room and just sat down, never asking if you could first. Something that you were now realizing, was that you were the only person that never had to ask if you could sit down on his bed - everyone else had to ask him.

“You know you don’t have to ask.” Dean sat down on the edge of his bed and patted the spot next to him, in which you hesitantly sat down.

Dean looked into your eyes as you sat down next to him, placing your hands on your thighs. You rubbed them up and down. It kills me to see how nervous you are. He thought to himself, so badly wanting to say it out loud to you. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m nervous.” You let out a small, nervous chuckle. It made his heart ache.

“I’m nervous too.” He said, hoping that it would make you somehow less nervous.

“Why are you nervous?” You asked. Crap. How do I answer that? He thought to himself.

“Probably for the same reason you are.” He looked at your face, looking for some kind of hint of what you possibly could be thinking.

“I highly doubt that.” You looked away, and folded your hands as if you were back in school, patiently waiting for the teacher to give you instructions.

It started to seem very evident to Dean now, that you were either nervous because Sam was right - you did in fact love him, or you were nervous because you were trying to figure out the best way to tell him that you didn’t feel the same way that he did about you. Either way, it scared him.

“I…I thought this would be easier somehow.” You admitted, after what seemed like a forever amount of silence between the two of you.

“I feel like I friggin teenager.” Dean joked, you knew he was trying his best to lighten the mood.

“Same here.” You gave him a nervous smile. “Um…Dean…” You took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to tell him, while at the same time, talking yourself out of telling him. “You know you’re my best friend right?”

“You know you’re my best friend right?” There is was, the sentence that he didn’t want to hear.

“Yeah.” He said, feeling his heart quickly sinking into the pit of his stomach.

“And you know I appreciate you more than anything.” You couldn’t even look at him; he wasn’t sure if that was better or worse somehow.

He reached out for your arm, gently grabbing it. “I appreciate you too Sweetheart. And I know I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Don’t be silly. You show me plenty.” Your statement was true, he may not have realized it, but there were plenty of times when he had found himself doing things to show you how much he truly cared and appreciated you, even when he didn’t outright tell you - you were the same way. You sighed. “Dean –”

“Before you say anything, I just want to tell you that whatever you say to me, our friendship is never gonna change. I won’t hate you. I could never hate you, okay?” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure you, or reassure himself in that moment.

“Here it goes then.” You took yet another deep breath.

“Fuck it.” You heard Dean mumble. Not even getting a second to react, his lips were suddenly on yours. His lips were just as soft as you had thought that they would be. Despite wanting to kiss him for as long as you had known him, you never thought that this is how your first kiss with him was going to go.

The kiss was quick, and not nearly as long as you had wanted it to be. He released his lips from yours and he stared at you blankly, almost embarrassed. “Sorry.” Dean said. “I uh…” He was actually speechless. “Shit.” He let go of your arms.

“Sammy was right.” He hears you mumble.

“What did my brother tell you?” He needed to know how badly the damage control was going to be, and how much he was going to kill his brother.

“He…He asked me if I um…If I ever thought about telling you how I feel.” So Sammy got to you too huh, Dean thought. “I told him that it would be silly of me to tell you how I felt because I knew you didn’t feel the same way.” You chuckled, nervously. “I guess…I guess I was wrong.”

“I told Sammy the same thing earlier.” He admitted. “As much as I wanted to tell you…” He trailed off, unsure of what he had wanted to say next, because there was so much he had wanted to say to you.

“You didn’t want to ruin our friendship in case I didn’t feel the same way.” You said, practically finishing his sentence for him. “I felt the same way. I mean, you know just as well as I do how hard it is to find people you can trust and rely on. I love both of you, and I didn’t want to say or do anything that would of fucked my relationship up with you guys.”

“So, what do we do now?” You asked, unsure of what was going to happen next. Just because the two of you had admitted your feelings for each other, doesn’t mean that you would actually do anything about it. As much as you had wanted to try out a relationship with Dean, you knew that he wasn’t much of the relationship type – then again, maybe it was because he hadn’t found the right person?

Dean looked over at the clock, noticing that it was almost 4:30 in the morning. He looked back over to you, almost looking too tired. “You spend the night in here with me. Or, morning in here with me.”

“And do what Dean?” You asked, curious as there could be a million things on his mind.

“Just lay here together…” He began to say, slightly pulling you in close. “Maybe cuddle…” He continued, leaning in slightly, inches away from your lips.

“Do some more kissing maybe…?” You whispered, slightly questioning. “Or are you too tired?”

“Hmmm, don’t think I’d ever be tired enough to not kiss you Sunshine.” He smiled tiredly, leaning in and kissing you again.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 If you would like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #reader insert #female reader #mutual pining the fanfic #dean x you #dean x reader

[m-artsoul]

16/04/23

i think that possibly, maybe i'm falling for you. yes, there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you.

dean’s version

reply to be added to the tag list

NOTE: i’ve drawn pining dean, time for the angel boy to get the same treatment. looks at him!! so in love with his human!! he has fallen for him in every way imaginable!! pathetic!! poor little gay meow meow!!

the qoute is from Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop by Landon Pigg

#art #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #pining cas #spncreatorsdaily #spndaily #spn #casdean #fanart #digital #full color #2023

[zepskies]

Love, By Any Other Name

Pairing: Castiel x F. Reader

Summary: You want him. Castiel can’t help but crave you. Dean sees both of you and wishes you’d stop being idiots.

AN: This is my first ever commission! Written for @girlsforpjm, who requested "mutual pining" with Castiel. Here you go, lovely! I sincerely hope you enjoy it. 💜

**Also, this is set during season 12.

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, blood and injury, (contains events from 12.12), fluff, some spice, implied smut.

“Achooo!!”

Sam grimaces while he watches you wipe your nose against your bare wrist. You shake your head and frown at the dusty tomes piled high beside you. You and Sam have been organizing the library for two hours now.

“That’s it, I can’t do this anymore,” you lament. “I need a break. My sinuses need a break.”

Sam’s lips twitch at a smile. “It’s okay. I got the rest of these.”

You aim a lazy salute at your friend and continue to sniffle as you leave the library. You circle this labyrinth of a bunker for a while, but you can’t seem to find the trench coat-wearing angel that’s supposed to live here too.

You end up in the garage, where Dean is tuning up his Baby. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and he’s got a grease stain across his cheek.

“Hey, you seen Cas?” you ask.

Dean barely perks up from under Baby’s hood to answer you. “He went out this morning. Haven’t seen him since.”

You pout at that, leaning against the side of the car near where Dean is tinkering.

“Is it too much to ask for him to leave a note or something?” you mutter.

Dean finally glances over at you. His lips edge at a smirk.

“What, miss your little boyfriend?” he teases.

The insinuation manages to take you by surprise. Your face starts to warm in embarrassment, but you cover it with a scoff.

“You should know. He was your boyfriend first,” you volley back. Dean’s expression flattens in annoyance.

“Don’t you have anything better to do right now?” he snarks.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the “P.” But you have mercy on him.

Instead of pestering him further, you just tip over the screwdriver he had balanced on the car’s frame. He makes a sound of protest as it falls somewhere between the gears inside his precious car.

He barks your name, and his angry voice echoes on the walls to magnify his frustration, but you’re already hastening back into the hall and down to the kitchen, trying to stifle your laughter.

You’ve slipped into the kitchen to escape. Yet that’s where you find the bunker’s resident angel, washing his hands of what looks like breadcrumbs in the sink.

“Hey,” you greet him jovially. He treats you with a small smile. “Where were you?”

“Oh, nowhere really. Just stepped out for a bit,” he replies. You get the sense that he’s hiding something. You smile and step closer to him, leaning a hand on the counter.

“Oh, yeah? Where?” you ask. Your eyes gleam with amusement. “Another ‘mission on high?’”

He sends you a droll look. “No.”

You tug on his sleeve. “Come on. Tell me.”

He smiles in return, and he gives you his own version of teasing.

“Childishness doesn’t become you,” he says.

“I’m just curious. You’ve been gone all day,” you reply, tilting your head. Your stare is unyielding, and familiar; Cas knows how stubborn you can be when you want something—especially information. Sometimes he finds it annoying, but in moments like these, it’s tempered by your playful, endearing smile.

“I was on a walk,” he finally admits.

You raise your brows. “A walk? Cas, it’s winter. Like 20 degrees outside.”

“I enjoy nature,” he shrugs. “The cold doesn’t bother me much anyway.”

…Well, he is an angel. You suppose it makes sense that he doesn’t feel the frigid weather like a human would. Your brow quirks with another curious thought.

“So you were washing your hands because…?” you ask.

Castiel’s face becomes a little more bashful. “I was feeding the birds some bread.”

At that, your smile grows. Here he is: Castiel, warrior angel of the Lord, Feeder of Pigeons.

“Well, if you ever want a walking companion, I’d be happy to join you,” you offer.

Castiel gives you a certain look, like he doesn’t quite believe you. 

Your lips purse. “What?”

He sinks his hands into his pockets as he leans his slightly hunched form back on his heels.

“Nothing,” he claims. “It’s only, I seem to remember you forcing Dean to kill a spider in your room. You claimed, and I quote, bastard things that crawl don’t belong indoors.”

You cross your arms and stare back at him narrowly, even though you try to stifle a smile.

“What’s your point? Everyone’s afraid of spiders,” you reason.

He raises a brow. “You also claim to have a vendetta against birds.”

“Pigeons, Castiel. They’re rats with wings.” Even Dean would agree with you on that one.

Castiel gives you a dubious look, however.

“Forgive me if I’m skeptical of your supposed love of nature,” he says drolly.

You want to argue more, but Sam enters the room with Dean on his heels. Both men seem to sense they’ve interrupted something. You clear your throat and turn to them.

“What’s up?” you ask, more nonchalant than you feel whenever you’re near the angel beside you. Castiel glances at you, before he too silently addresses Sam and Dean.

“Uh, we’ve caught a case,” Sam says. “It’s not far. Three dead, all with their hearts, and most of their internal organs ripped out.”

“Ech,” you reply with a grimace. “Sounds kind of like a ghoul. Maybe a werewolf on steroids?”

“Well, they were fresh kills, and it’s a full moon. So more than likely we’re looking at werewolves,” he replies.

You smile thinly. “Great.”

You hate werewolves.

Correction: you really hate werewolves.

The thought hits you yet again as you lay on the floor of a dusty old hunting cabin.

The irony.

Dean hefts you in his arms, after slicing his silver blade through the heart of the yellow-eyed bastard that tore you open with his claws.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” you ask, hating how your voice trembles. Dean doesn’t answer you at first. He holds his hand to the oozing gash in your side.

“Nah, you’ll be okay. Just hang in there,” he says. Blood quickly covers his palm. He curses inside his mind.

“Cas!” he calls out roughly.

The angel had been fighting in the other the room with Sam, but after he burns out the eyes of the last werewolf and its body falls to the ground, he hears the undercurrent of alarm in Dean’s shouting. With Sam on his heels, he returns to the living room to find you and Dean.

Castiel’s steps halt in the doorway when he sees you. His face slackens for a moment, but then he hardens. He moves forward swiftly.

“Move,” he says to Dean in order to come to your side. Dean’s eyes widen, but he does as he’s told after laying you down to the floor. 

Castiel stares down at your face, offering you comfort with his eyes. You stare up at him in pain, but also with hope, and trust. You’re able to curl your fingers around the edge of his trench coat.

Then he presses his hand to your cheek. He closes his eyes in concentration while he heals you. 

Though he expels more power than he should to heal you completely. He knows it when his body sways a little after he’s done. Dean grabs his shoulder to keep him steady.

“You good?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods; he’s more focused on the way you’re catching your breath. You marvel at how your wounds, your pain, and even your blood is gone—completely washed away. He helps you sit up with an arm wrapping around your shoulders. Then he gathers you tight against him, so he can help you stand as well. He wavers again on his feet, just a little, but you’re too perceptive not to catch it. You realize he did too much to save you.

You still chide at him with a frown. “You didn’t have to use up so much of your energy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Think nothing of it.”

Those are useless words, but you don’t bother arguing with him anymore. You just sigh and hold onto his strong arms while regaining your balance. You know for a fact that you’re blushing when you glance up at him.

Biting your lip, you soon turn away to grab the knife you’d dropped in the fight.

Without you or Cas noticing, Sam and Dean share a knowing glance. It’s subtle, in the way the brothers have perfected. Dean barely curbs a smile as he leads the way back to the car. 

You settle next to Cas in the backseat and try not to glance at him too often. You don’t know that he’s trying not to do the same to you.

Dean glances back at you two in the rearview mirror. He shakes his head.

Idiots.

Mary Winchester has been a welcome return to the family…when she’s here. Ever since Amara brought her back, she’s been distant with her sons. You don’t understand it all that well, but it’s not your place to say anything, you don’t think.

You do think Mary is a badass hunter. You just don’t know her that well.

About a week after the werewolf hunt, Mary drops in with Wally, a fellow hunter in need of assistance with a demon problem. You, Sam, Dean, and Castiel are all game. While you haven’t had to deal with demons too much in the past, you know that they’re…something of a specialty for the Winchesters. 

But of course, it quickly goes to shit.

The demon lives alone, in some shack by a river where he likes to fish. The group of you wait until he’s stepped out of the house before you go inside and case the place, looking for a good spot to spray a Devil’s Trap or two and try to trap him.

When the demon returns, he’s far stronger than any of you anticipated. The Devil’s Trap breaks with little effort (the demon’s just laughing). Then he flashes yellow eyes. You and Castiel share a look of widening shock. Mary takes a preemptive step back.

And when the kitchen door is about to close on the three of you, the angel pushes you into the next room before you can turn and fight. Sam helps you back onto your feet, though you stare at the door in horror. He and Dean try to break the door down, but it’s no use. It’s supernaturally sealed. 

You felt useless standing there. You wrack your brain for a solution, and you glance out one of the windows. Maybe there’s another way into the kitchen!

“Guys! What if we go around?” you suggest.

With that idea taking root in each of you, Sam and Dean follow you outside. Before you guys can even make it around the house, Wally flags you down. 

“We’ve got incoming!” he says. And you realize what he means. A group of black-eyed demons are bounding toward the house.

Aw, shit. You’re grateful to have Sam and Dean beside you, because the demons nearly overtake all of you. You manage to hold your own, along with the brothers. Wally isn’t so fortunate. His body hits the floor after his own blade sinks into his chest.

A pit begins to form in your stomach as you scramble toward the Impala. The plan is to catch up with Mary; thanks to Cas, she’d been able to flee the demon strong enough to snap a Devil’s Trap like a cheap trick. But she’d then taken Cas with her to safety. 

Now, Dean drives the Impala down the road at breakneck speed. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asks his mother through the phone. The car is silent enough for you to hear Mary’s reply.

“…No.”

When you step into the barn, the first thing you have to focus on is Cas covered in his own blood. He’s been stabbed by one of the demon’s strange and powerful weapons, and he lies on an old, dingy couch. You hurry to Cas’s side and take in, your face filled with horror, though you try and fail to mask it. 

You reach out a hand, but you hesitate to touch him. Suffering is written across his face. He tries to stifle sounds of pain out of habit.

Tears are fresh in your eyes as you look down at him in dismay. You chance laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“Can you heal yourself?” you ask.

“No,” he answers eventually. “I think the demon’s spear was poisoned. I think I’m…”

No, your lower lip trembles as you shake your head.

“No,” you repeat aloud. “You just need time.”

You turn to Dean, who’s approached from behind you. But you quickly turn back to Cas, as if you’ll miss out on precious few moments. Castiel’s furrowed gaze tells you he’d rather not have you see him like this, but you don’t care. There’s no way you’re leaving his side. 

The weapon that was able to do this to him was the Lance of Michael, you all discover, when Crowley suddenly appears. He also informs you all that this is no ordinary demon. It’s Ramiel, Prince of Hell. You don’t give a shit about the specifics of how Crowley is wrapped up in this.

All you care about is if there’s a cure to Cas’s wounds. Crowley’s only words of wisdom are to leave the angel behind and run as fast as you can. 

He disappears before you can spit at him. 

“Cas, how bad is it?” Dean asks, after the King of Hell predictably makes a run for it. 

Castiel opened up his shirt collar to reveal a spiderweb of black crackling across his clammy skin, slowly breaking down his vessel. 

“Crowley’s right. You should go.”

Your hand tightens on his shoulder. “Cas—”

“No, listen to me,” he says, staring into your eyes. He continues with difficulty. “Look…thank you. Thank you. Knowing you all, it’s been the best part of my life. The things we’ve shared together, they have changed me… You’re my family, and I love you.”

His gaze had fallen on you, making your breath hitch. But his dark blue eyes travel to Sam and Dean next, and even Mary. 

“I love all of you.” The angel is the closest to tears and heartbreak that you’ve ever seen him. He struggles to hold himself together, in more ways than one. “Just, please, please don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run, and save yourselves, and I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes the sentence. Tears pour down your cheeks in silent streams, but you still hold him down when he tries to force his body to sit up. He doesn’t have the strength to resist you encouraging him to lie back down. 

Dean voices what you’re all thinking.

No. None of you would cut and run and leave him to die, no matter what Cas says. 

“Like you said, we’re family. And we don’t leave family behind.”

Ramiel comes for all of you, specifically for his stolen weapon. Killing the rest of you would just be an added bonus.

But while the four of you manage to pin down the demon with holy fire and a good fight, it’s Sam who manages to stab the Prince of Hell with Michael’s Lance, killing him in flash of brilliant light and rendering his body to ash. 

Of course, that’s when Crowley arrives once again, late holding his proverbial Starbucks. In this case, what would’ve been a mocha frappe is actually the Lance—and Crowley breaks it in half. It somehow reverses the curse of the blade, and therefore frees Castiel. 

He’s able to heal himself back to a full recovery. 

But also, rather predictably, Crowley disappears again before you all can recover yourselves. 

Sam and Dean help the angel back onto his feet. His clothes are still covered in blood, but his skin is clear and no longer clammy, his eyes no longer bloodshot. He’s shocked to still be alive, and you can barely contain yourself. Tears stream down your face as you surprise him with a hug.

Cas releases an oof, his body wavering just slightly before he plants his feet and wraps his arms around you. His hold tightens around your smaller frame, and he chances resting his chin on the top of your head.  

“So…you’re good?” Mary asks incredulously. 

Castiel raises his gaze to answer her. “I guess I am.”

You’re quiet for the rest of the drive home. Mary had taken her own car for the hunt, so it leaves you once again in the backseat with Castiel.

He finds your silence perturbing, though he doesn’t have the courage to ask you what’s wrong. Despite his full recovery, you still seem upset somehow. 

Part of him wants to reach out to you…but he stops himself. He also reminds himself not to stare at you. Instead, he turns his head back out the window. You felt his gaze on your profile, but you resolve to keep yours stubbornly out of your own window. 

The only one who notices the exchange, yet again through the rearview mirror, is Dean. His lips firm into a thoughtful frown. 

Home, sweet home, you think wryly when you enter the bunker. 

You give into the urge to beeline straight for your room without even turning your head. 

Sam and Mary follow suit, which leaves Castiel hesitating in the hall. Dean takes pity on him and claps his shoulder. 

“You okay, man?” he asks. Cas is staring after you like a man who’s lost his way.

“She’s…upset,” he replies, both confused and bothered by that fact.  

Dean’s lips twitch humorlessly. “Yeah, well, you almost died.”

“Yes,” Cas gives a wry nod. “But she seems upset at me.”

Dean has to smile for real. It’s plain as day what’s on his friend’s mind, and why. Just like it’s obvious as hell (at least to him) why you’re probably “upset.” As always, Dean takes up the role of wingman. 

“Why don’t you just go talk to her then?” he suggests.

Castiel hesitates. He’s not sure if he’d be intruding on you. The emotions of human women are foreign to him. They always have been, even when he was human, not so long ago. But he trusts Dean’s advice on these things.

So, he eventually nods. He means to follow you, but Dean stops him for a moment with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Maybe after you, uh, wash your clothes. Take a shower. Maybe shave a little,” he says, brushing his fingers over his own chin. “But uh, keep a little scruff. Some chicks dig that.”

“Shave my facial hair, but…keep my facial hair?” Cas tries to clarify. 

Dean blinks at his friend. Christ.

 “Okay, look, just clean yourself up,” he says. “You’ll be fine.”

With one last clap on the back, Dean disappears down the hall to his room. It leaves Castiel feeling somewhat unbalanced, but he treks the other way.

Normally he would restore his clothes with his powers, but he’d used up his reserves just to heal himself. There was a time when his connection to heaven was enough to do more than heal his own injuries. Now, however, both he and heaven itself are in a lesser state. 

Shaking his head, he goes down to the laundry room. He still remembers how to wash his own clothing. 

He unintentionally finds you there in the laundry room. You’ve peeled away your jacket that had been stained with his blood, and you’re tossing it into the machine. It leaves you in a thin shirt and jeans.

Castiel finds himself admiring your form; the familiar curve of your face, the shade of your hair, the outline of your bra through your shirt (which he tries not to notice), and the other curves that he has to often felt guilty for tracing with his eyes…and imagining with his hands.  

You look up when he enters the room.

He knocks himself out of his thoughts and freezes, a bit uncertain.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he offers.

You just shake your head. “It’s okay.”

Your eyes roam over him then, from head to toe. It makes his face feel a bit warm.

“You want me to throw that coat in with mine?” you ask, pointing over to him. Cas examines his bloody trench coat.

“I’m not sure there’s any saving it, but we can try,” he says. He peels off the coat and allows you to throw it into the watching machine along with your bloody clothing.

“Your shirt’s white, so you should wash that separately,” you advise.

“I know,” he says, with a faint smile. “I, uh, I remember.”

You begin to regain some of your normal self, glancing at him with more warmth in your eyes. 

“Do you ever miss being human?” you ask. Cas draws closer to you. He rests a hand near yours, where you lean on the dryer. 

“There were some enjoyable aspects. Food, in particular,” he admits. “Now if I try to take a bite of a sandwich, it’s just…molecules, really.”

You wince in sympathy. “God, I don’t know how I could go through life without being able to enjoy another Snickers bar.”

He nods in agreement. He remembers chocolate well.

“But it wasn’t just the taste. It was the feeling of satiety. Sometimes, being uncomfortably full was quite satisfying,” he says. That makes you smile. 

But it soon drops when you take in the disgusting state of his shirt. Unbidden, it reminds you of every horrific thing that happened tonight. You really can’t bear it. 

“Okay, give me that,” you gesture at the shirt.

You start to unbutton it before he’s really ready for you, but he tries to get over his embarrassment by removing his tie. Meanwhile, you undo the buttons of his shirt while trying not to think too hard about what you’re really doing as you start to see flashes of his skin, from chest to sternum.

He takes a peek at your face. 

“Are you angry?” he asks. 

Your brows are furrowed, but this time more in confusion when you look up at him. 

“No. Why?” 

Cas’s brows furrow. “It feels like you’re angry…at me.”

The hasty motions of your hands calm at that. You consider him with a frown. Maybe you are a little upset at him. It’s not really fair, you know, but it’s how you feel. You blow out a sigh. 

“I just… After everything we’ve been through, everything you’ve done for us, how could you think for one second that we would leave you there alone? Alone to die?” you ask. It renders Castiel a bit stunned into silence. 

Your grip tightens on the now open edges of his shirt.

“Look, that situation was bad enough. But if you ever try to push me away like that again…”

You’re unable to finish that thought. You become waylaid by your own tears as emotion clogs your throat and threatens to choke you. 

Castiel raises a hand to touch your face, tentatively at first, then more comforting. He brushes his thumb across your cheek, catching the tears there. 

“I wasn’t trying to push you away,” he confesses. “I was trying to save you…because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, even as I lay dying.”

You hold onto his hand. Biting your lower lip, you find enough courage to meet his eyes. They’ve lowered to your lips, you realize, though maybe Cas doesn’t. He seems a bit surprised when you lean up towards him.

You go more slowly. Your hand falls on his warm chest. For God’s sake, do something, you tell yourself. 

You don’t know if he can pick up on your thoughts as well with your bodies touching this close, but he seems to have an internal battle of his own. You each make a decision at the same time.

It has you leaning up the rest of the way, and Castiel bending down to meet your kiss.  

He gathers you closer; one hand finds its way into your tangled hair, while the other grasps your hip and brings you flush against him. Your hands move up his chest and wind around his neck. He holds you tightly against him as his lips claim yours, over and over with increasing urgency. 

He turns you in his arms and hefts you up onto the dryer machine. There he gets even more leverage to kiss you the way he has secretly imagined, to touch you the way he’s too often craved, with his hands warming up and down your thighs.

You utter a moan of longing as you hold his face. You like the scrape of his stubble against your palms. You can almost imagine that delightful tingling against otherplaces down your body. Places you’d like him to explore when you have more privacy…

Or maybe here is privacy enough.

You alternatively tangle and tug your fingers through his hair. And it’s his turn to moan when you take his lower lip between your teeth, scraping just hard enough to be both painful and delightful.

He squeezes your thighs in retaliation. It prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer. Your dirty boots cross behind his back.

But soon, his touch gentles, more tender than demanding as he slows the kiss. His lips veer from yours and burn a path across your jawline, down the smooth column of your neck.

It allows you to catch your breath, but the feeling of his gentle lips and rough cheek just turns you on even more. You card your fingers through his hair and close your eyes. 

“Cas,” you breathe in content. 

He hesitates, with his lips on your neck. “Yes?”

You blink for a moment, but then you have to giggle. You twine your arms around his neck and hold him close. 

“Nothing,” you reply. Your smile says it all though. Cas sees it when he pulls away a bit, turning his gaze back to you. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. 

“I didn’t think feelings such as this…desires like this, would affect me after I became an angel again.”

Your smile brightens, even as you blush. “Does that make me special?”

“Yes,” he replies, with a soft smile. “But for many more, and far better reasons than that.”

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. You bite the edge of your lower lip, but Cas’s thumb swiping across encourages you to release it.

“When you said that you loved me,” you say, a little shakily, “did you just mean…in the family sense?”

Castiel meets your eyes, and there he finds his courage. 

“Yes,” he says. “And no.”

With another one of those smiles he’s come to love, you bring him back in for a kiss. All too soon, it becomes hungrier, rougher, born of passion and secret desires finally spilling free. 

“Wait,” you pant against his lips, taking his hands in yours. “Come with me.”

Anywhere, his heart says.

But after you jump down from the dryer, you tug him by the hand out of the laundry room. After a quick scan of the hallway, you give him a playful little smile and lead him down to your room.

Castiel can’t help but smile in return. He follows your lead in more ways than one when the door to your bedroom shuts behind you both.

You help him shrug off his tattered shirt, and he helps you out of yours next, followed swiftly by the belt buckle on his slacks. 

In that moment, and many moments after, you’re grateful for door locks. You just hope the Winchesters aren’t dumb enough to interrupt what you have planned next for your angel…

Because it might just take all night.

AN: I haven't written for Castiel in a long time, but I had fun with this. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think. 😘

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@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28

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#love by any other name #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x female reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #mutual pining #angst #spn #supernatural #comission #reader request #zepskies writes

[aheavenlycreature]

Castiel CHOOSING to let his vessel age alongside Sam and Dean. He first excuses this by convincing himself he's only doing it to not stand out and it's saving his grace. That it's wasteful to constantly keep rejuvenating cells when he could be using that power elsewhere. It simply makes the most sense, especially when he falls from Heaven to help aid Dean Winchester. The years go by and the vessel is no longer just a vessel, it's his body and he likes experiencing the human process of aging. The wrinkles he's getting at the corner of his eyes, the laugh lines on his cheeks from smiling at Dean's antics, the grey hairs starting to dust his hair. He loves experiencing this part of humanity. Sam and Dean don't notice how odd it is Castiel is aging alongside them. They're human, so they don't think anything of someone aging until it's brought to their attention by someone Castiel is an angel-- vessels don't age. Or at least, they shouldn't. Dean thinks something has to be wrong with Cas' grace, that Cas has been hiding he's hurt or something fatal but Cas tells him there's nothing to worry about. He chose it. He could at the snap of his fingers restore the body back to its original state when he first possessed Jimmy Novak but he doesn't want to. Dean asks why doesn't he. I mean, aging isn't exactly glamourous and it's something a lot of humans would want to skip out on. Cas answers by saying, "I wanted to because... because it makes me feel more like I belong", but Dean notices his stutter. Cas' answer is satisfactory, but Dean knows Cas and he knows when Cas is hiding the full truth. Which causes him to think Cas is lying about something important he should know about and he's determined to find out what.

What Cas doesn't want Dean to know is that maybe back in 2009 he started letting his vessel age to conserve grace where he could or so he wouldn't stand out amongst the Winchesters or make himself seem more alien than he already did. But the real reason he let his vessel age (which he's aware of now) is because he wanted grow old alongside the man he loves and this was as close as he could get to the fantasy.

#Destiel #Castiel #Dean Winchester #Dean x Castiel #Deancas #Casdean #Cas and Dean #Dean and Cas #Dean Winchester x Castiel #spn headcanon #headcanon #head canon #hc #SPN #supernatural #Jimmy Novak #is it gay to grow grey with the homies? #cas' vessel #castiel vessel #Cas is PINING #castiel loves dean winchester #Dean Winchester loves Castiel

[found--family]

ok so they changed the impala's plates from state to state so imagine sam does a sneaky funny and gets vanity 'DESTI3L' plates and. dean doesn't notice. until random people start asking him what 'deh-stee-el' means and he breaks out in a cold sweat thinking chuck beemed the idea into the minds of strangers or sm

#😂 #destiel #crack #sam knows #thoughts #it's important to note that dean is a bisexual pining disaster at the time

[thegoodthebadandtheart]

for @wincestwednesdays week two / (will it wash out in the water or is it always in the) blood

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #wincest #wincest wednesday #in spirit a companion to my dean pining comic #it's about how. you go through demon blood withdrawal and go through purifying trials and have an angel heal you from the inside and #lose god's influence over your life. and afterwards you realise you still wanna screw your brother silly and you gotta face that part #wasn't the angels or the demons or god. it was just you. #a

[spnexploration]

A Christmas Case

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Dean drags you out of bed to go to a case, ruining your Christmas plans. But does he have a plan to make up for it?

Words: 1.1k

This is my submission for @spnfanficpond Secret Santa 2023 (ignore the fact it was posted in Jan 2024...) and is a gift for @apocalypseornaw ❤ Sorry for the delay!

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“Come on, we’ve got a case,” Dean said, shaking you awake.

“Fu’ offfff,” you grumbled at him. “You’re not allowed in my room.” What you’d really like was Dean to stay in your room permanently, maybe some ravishing… But that was never going to happen.

He chuckled, “Just channel that energy to the monster. We leave in twenty.”

---

You sulked in the backseat. It was December 23rd, why the hell were you off on a case? You’d put in a little bit of effort at the bunker, getting a tree and some dollar shop baubles. That was all for naught, now.

Dean caught sight of you in the rear-view mirror. “What’s up with you, princess? We interrupt your beauty sleep?” You didn’t appreciate his teasing.

“I don’t see why monsters couldn’t give us the bloody holidays off.”

“It’s just another day in our line of work, don’t know why you got your hopes up.”

You glared at him. “Yes, how could I, when known Scrooge, Dean Winchester, was going to be trawling for cases at 6am on Christmas Eve Eve.” It was his own damn fault he wouldn’t be getting the present you’d spent a lot of time choosing for him.

“Hey! I didn’t even find it!”

You turned your glare to Sam, “Got anything to say, Second Scrooge Winchester?”

“I just have some google alerts set up, sorry.”

You crossed your arms.

“You might have been expecting a bit too much from a Christmas at the Bunker anyway,” Dean said in a tone of voice as if he was trying to make you feel better. “We’re not very good at Christmases.”

You rolled your eyes and looked out the window. The boys decided to let you be.

---

You decided to keep a tally of how many people said something about the FBI making you work so close to Christmas: you were already up to 4 and it was only mid-afternoon on the first day. Happily the drive hadn’t been too long from the bunker to the crappy town where the case was, so you’d been able to get started straight away.

There was a giant Christmas tree in the main street of town. You felt like it was mocking you.

You dragged your feet as you followed the boys into the library, conveniently still open. You wondered if Dean even realised everything was going to be closed on Christmas Day. Serve him right if he couldn’t get pie that day.

You half-heartedly trawled some books, not really contributing to the research effort.

“Sorry,” Sam said quietly as he came to sit by you. “I didn’t mean to ruin your holidays.”

“It’s alright,” you said, not really feeling it but not wanting to sound petty, either.

“I can tell you’re upset. Hell, even Dean can tell you’re upset.”

“You know, Dean’s better at reading people than people give him credit for,” you said, always quick to defend inappropriate criticism of Dean.

“Ok, you’re right, that was a low blow. But you’re still upset, and I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, solve the case fast enough and maybe we can do Christmas on Boxing Day at least.”

He gave your arm a friendly squeeze before standing up again and heading back to the shelves.

“I think I found it!” Dean called from somewhere. You stood to go find him.

---

It turned out to be a very quick case, over by late evening Christmas Eve. It was late enough that ordinarily you’d all head back to the motel room and go home early the next morning, but Dean suggested something different. “How about we head back to the bunker tonight, I’ll drive.”

“It’s pretty late,” Sam said, nursing a couple of injuries.

“You can sleep in the backseat until we get there. Won’t it be better to get to sleep in your own bed?”

“If you’re doing this for me, you don’t have to,” you said. “It’s fine, it’s just a stupid day. You don’t have to kill yourself driving late at night just for me.”

“No, come on, it’ll be nice to be back home.” He gave you that beautiful smile and you couldn’t help but melt.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Sam mumbled agreement and so you all piled into the Impala, Sam stretched out on the backseat. He was asleep almost instantly, and you weren’t too far behind.

---

“Hey, hey,” you woke to Dean whispering your name and gently shaking your shoulder. “Wake up.”

You looked around blearily, this wasn’t the bunker. It looked like the middle of nowhere. You started to ask Dean, but he held up his hand.

“Shh, don’t wake Sam,” he said, still whispering. “Come out of the car for a sec, I’ll explain it all.”

You looked at him quizzically but followed, closing the door as quietly as you could behind yourself. Dean took your hand and pulled you around to the front of the car. Your heart was racing; this was different…

“I’m sorry Sam and I ruined the Christmas you had planned,” he said, standing very close to you. You looked up into his stunningly gorgeous face wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but knowing that he saw you like a little sister. “But I thought we could look for Santa delivering presents,” he said, gesturing to the huge expanse of the night sky you could see.

You laughed, “What am I, 7?”

“Well, ok, it doesn’t have to be Santa. But it’s a nice night for stargazing, and I wanted to make it up to you.” He reached up and brushed his thumb over your cheek. This was definitely new. You nodded in agreement and he took your hand again, pulling you up on to the top of the bonnet.

He scooted very close to you. You could feel his body heat, which was good in the freezing night air. You felt a wave of goosebumps break out over your skin, but you weren’t entirely sure if they were because of the cold or the proximity of Dean.

He reached behind him and grabbed a blanket you hadn’t seen was there, then put his arms around you and draped it across your shoulders. He was so close, so beautifully close. And yet, always so far.

He didn’t put his arms back down, like you were expecting.

He put a hand on your shoulder. What was he doing? He put his other hand on your cheek. So warm, so close. So... intimate.

You looked up into his big, green eyes.

He leaned in close.

Oh. Oh! This was happening!

His soft, Adonis-like lips were suddenly on yours. You closed your eyes and leant into the moment.

He pulled away, “Merry Christmas. Hope this makes up for having to be on the road.”

“Oh, this definitely makes up for it,” you said before capturing his lips again.

The stars looked down from above, forgotten.

.

.

.

Dean Winchester tag list:

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@lyarr24

@waynes-multiverse

@deans-spinster-witch

@zepskies

Everything Supernatural tag list:

@leigh70

@malindacath

@ellie-andthemachine

@iprobablyshipit91

@123passwort

@kazsrm67

@nerdymuffinbonkcloud

@magssteenkamp

Spnfanficpond Dean Winchester x reader fluff tag list:

@babypieandwhiskey

@bkwrm523

@buckys-zomdoll

@canadianspnhunter

@cas-backwards-tie

@castieltrash1

@deanwanddamons

@ellewritesfix05

@emilyshurley

@emoryhemsworth

@firefly-in-darkness

@idreamofplaid

@ilovedean-spn2

@kalesrebellion

@katelyn--renee

@kayteonline

@kickingitwithkirk

@lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell

@manawhaat

@melbelle45

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@mysupernaturalfics

@notnaturalanahi

@plaidstiel-wormstache

@sinceriouslyamellpadalecki

@supernatural-jackles

@there-must-be-a-lock

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing

@trend90s

@waywardjoy

@whispersandwhiskerburn

@akshi8278

@ssonia13

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #pining #spn christmas #spnfanficpond #spnfanficpond secret santa 2023 #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n

[samdeancrimespree]

there’s something about wincest in the pre-slash era (whenever that is) where i think the dynamic is: one of them does not have sex with men. doesn’t think of them that way, because it feels too dangerous, too easy to slip into those fantasies he keeps locked away. and the other one fucks guys, but only ones who are eerily similar, carbon copies to his brother. the type of resemblance that would turn most siblings off. and the roles could go either way, for either of them. just… the dynamics of the different types of desperate “unrequited” feelings and the way they try to get away from them.

like. dean getting drunk and making out with some tall, long haired guy at a bar. nasty desperate hands down the back of the guys jeans, stifling a sigh that his ass isn’t quite round enough to be sam’s. he has blue eyes, not brown, but dean isn’t looking at his face anyway. fucking not-sam rough in the back of the impala, moaning baby and cutting off before brother, saying sam’s name when he cums, trying not to stare at the army figure in the ashtray. hating himself for it, swearing off it, but always crawling back, chasing the high like an addict. feeling deep in his soul that sam was right to leave, that he’s better off without his sick freak of a brother.

sam being into girls with short hair, accidentally hitting on lesbians because he struggles to be attracted to anything not wearing a crew cut, flannel and work boots. he’s sick, he knows, that’s part of why he had to leave. frosh week drunk, he lets a guy flirt with him, because he’s just tall enough, just different enough, that sam can give himself plausible deniability. his lips are too thin, he’s too gentle, he smells like axe and fake leather, but sam needs something, and this is all he can get. it’s going fine, until the guy— too late now to ask his name— goes for sam’s belt and sam feels like he’s going to puke. the wrongness of it comes over him all at once, like a hex. clarity piercing his drunken state: not dean’s hands, not dean’s voice, not dean, wrong. at least it gives him an excuse to back out, a good reason to lock himself in the bathroom and sit on the floor, trying to determine if the dry heaving is cheap beer or grief.

girls are— safe. long hair, soft hands, sweet and gentle and nowhere close to 6’1. this way, there’s nothing reminding sam of the absence, nothing pushing against the barrier he’s made around what he really wants. he can be normal.

he knows it’s dean after the first strike, knows his footsteps and his breath and the outline of his shoulders, even in the dark. but sam doesn’t stop fighting, because he’ll have to stop touching dean, and sam can allow himself this one thing, after so long. dean’s leather jacket on sam’s bare arms is making him dizzy, and sam lets dean take him down, the beginning and end of sam’s understanding of desire. a reminder, familiar like dean’s rough palms on his wrists, his weight pinning sam, his shit-eating grin and drawled easy, tiger; sam has never been normal.

#ok my last rb just reminded me of this #ive been thinking about it a lot #in my stanford pining era #it could go the other way too…. Sam searching for replacements #and dean being like ahaha i don’t like Guys wtf 🧍‍♀️ #also. if the one doin the fucking won’t kiss the guys #hhghhhh #wincest #hc #pre series #mars.txt

[softpine]

and i ain't done nothing wrong but i can't find my way home

[transcript]

#(you can use the transcript or the ALT text for the journals!!) #fun fact about finn's handwriting: we've seen him write a few times on whiteboards to stevie #and it's very uncoordinated & blocky text because he doesn't have as much control over his hands #so i knew i had to choose different handwriting for finn while he was alive #and soooo i picked dean winchester's handwriting because he's never beating the allegations lmao #camellia #frozen pines #asa mayfield #finn atwood #lucy atwood #death tw #child death tw #murder tw

[destiel-wings]

there's just something about this dean that screams "i am in love with castiel" to me

#the winchesters #the winchesters season finale #dean winchester #spn #destiel #dean winchester loves castiel #the winchesters spoilers #the winchesters 1x13 #supernatural #dean's new makeover #so fancy #so pining #look at him #no i won't elaborate any further

[kaleldobrev]

Come Back Home

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a relationship ending argument that caused you to leave the Bunker, you and Dean haven’t heard from/seen each other in over a year. Are there still sparks between you two? The better question is: Did they ever truly leave in the first place?

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Cursing (1x), Mutual Pining, Fluff, A bit of angst

Authors Note: Flashbacks are in italics | I had such a hard time coming up with a summary for this | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It’s been over a year since you’ve last heard from or have seen Dean Winchester. The two of you were together for several years before eventually an argument erupted between the two of you, which ended in the two of you breaking up, and you leaving the Bunker; the only permanent home you had since yours burned down when you were a teenager.

“Y/N, why are you moving out?” Jack asked, as you were in yours and Dean’s shared – now former – bedroom. You were currently packing up a single duffel bag; a bag that had your entire life in it, a bag that you had been lugging around with you for as long as you could remember since the house fire.

Taking one of your shirts, you folded it up and placed it into the bag. You turned to look at Jack, a slightly sorrowful look on your face. “You know why Jack.” You didn’t want to move out, but you had thought that it would be for the best; especially since one of the reasons you had moved into the Bunker in the first place is because you and Dean had started dating. Before you had made the decision, Sam had told you that you didn’t have to move out, because him, Cas, and Jack had liked having you here. Even Dean – although the two of you were no longer together. But you had told Sam that seeing Dean every day – at least for now – was a little bit too painful for you.

“But everything is so much better with you here.” The last thing that Jack had wanted was for you to go. Ever since you moved into the Bunker, Jack said that it seemed more like a home. You had added so many personal touches that the Winchester’s never would have thought of otherwise if it wasn’t for you. Making an actual effort to celebrate every holiday – even the minor ones, implementing family dinners every Sunday, decorating for the holidays, hanging up pictures, and even having various house plants throughout.

You reached out for Jack’s hand and took it in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know Jack but…” You sighed. “Dean and I aren’t together anymore and I thought that it would be best for me to leave.”

“Just because you aren’t together doesn’t mean you have to leave. Sam said –” Jack started to say but you cut them off, knowing exactly what they were going to say.

“I know what Sam said. But, just because I’m leaving the Bunker doesn’t mean you and me still can’t talk.” You gave him a small smile and placed your hand on their cheek. Jack smiled back in return; their smile trying to convey understanding but hurt at the same time.

“Okay.” Jack said. “Can I hug you?” They asked.

“Of course. You don’t have to ask.” You said.

Jack and you hugged for what seemed like a long time; neither of you wanting to let go.

“Thanks Sam. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You smiled, sitting crossed legged on the bed with your laptop in front of you. You had just received some photos of a book that you knew that had been in the Bunker for a case that you were currently working on and had asked Sam to send you some pictures. Although the Bunker was about an hours drive from where you were working the case and Sam had even offered to drop off the books, you had told him that it was best for him to just send you the pictures. You had felt that seeing him in person would make you start crying, even though you knew he had wanted to see you.

“I already know what you’re going to say but, I just wanted to ask. After you’re done there, did you…did you want to come over?” Sam already knew that you were going to say no, but he had wanted you to say yes. Even though he talked to you pretty regularly and the two of you sent photos back and forth, he still missed you. Seeing you physically was a lot different compared to FaceTiming you.

“I can’t Sam.” You sighed softly, closing the laptop in front of you and pushing it to the side. “I mean…I want to. But…I don’t want things to be awkward between me and Dean.” Although you had regularly kept in contact with Sam, Jack, and Cas, Dean on the other hand you didn’t. It wasn’t entirely his fault though, as communication went both ways. There were countless times over the year where you had wanted to call him, text him, something. But each and every time the thought had entered your mind you turned to the comfort of alcohol or a warm body instead.

Sam sighed, knowing that you were going to say no. But there was a small part of him that had hoped you would say yes, especially because of how close you were. “I had to give it a shot right?” Sam held the phone in his hands as he sat in the War Room, open to one of the pages he had sent you pictures of.

“I know.” You sighed too. You had wanted to go back to the Bunker, it was something that you had been thinking about a lot lately. As much as you loved when Jack sent you pictures of everything that was going on, it also made you sad. “How’s…How is he?” You didn’t have to specify, full well knowing that Sam would know who you meant.

Sam had wanted to lie to you, tell you that Dean was doing okay, but he knew that you would see right through the lie. At the same time, he didn’t want to tell you the truth either. Ever since you and Dean had broken up and you had moved out, he noticed such a huge change in him. When he wasn’t being a recluse hauled up in his room, drowning his pain in his alcohol of choice, he had wanted to work case after case to stay busy.

“You know, Y/N is only a few hours away. Maybe she would –” Sam began to say, but Dean quickly down him down.

“We’re not asking her.” Dean’s voice was hard and cold. “She wouldn’t come anyway.”

“Yeah…I guess you’re right.” Sam sighed, knowing that Dean was right. It had been a few months since you and Dean had broken up. The two of you had made it perfectly clear that you didn’t want to see each other. Well, the two of you had wanted to, but the two of you were too stubborn to admit it. Sam knew, that if you were in trouble or if Dean was in trouble, either of you would drop everything to go and help, despite how things had ended between you two. “I’m gonna call her. Ask if she knows anything about what we’re hunting.” He got up from his chair in the motel room and dialed your number, walking outside of the room.

Dean looked at the pages before him and eyed his phone, sighing quietly to himself. Picking it up he unlocked it with his passcode – your birthday – and stared at the homescreen wallpaper. It was a photo that you had taken of the two of you. You were lying in bed together; both of your hair messy and all over the place. He was kissing you on the cheek and you had the biggest smile on your face. He had no idea why he loved this picture so much but he did. He wished that he could go back to that moment more than anything.

Sam walked back into the room, Dean quickly closing his phone. “What’d she say?”

“She thinks we’re hunting a nuckelavee.” Sam sat down across from his older brother.

“A what?” That was something that Dean had never heard of, and he was pretty sure that Sam had never heard of it either.

“It’s a horse-like demon from Orcadian folklore. Apparently, its breath wilts crops, sickens livestock, is responsible for droughts. Three things that we have seen. But get this, it’s mainly a sea-dwelling creature.” Sam explained.

“So what’s a knocklevee –” Dean began, but Sam quickly interrupted.

“It’s nuckelavee. And, Y/N has a theory about that. A lot of Celtic people settled here in North Carolina. So, she’s thinking that since they brought their culture here –” Dean was the one to interrupt now.

“They brought the creature here with them.” Dean said, and Sam nodded. “Who knew her Celtic Folklore degree would come in handy.”

Sam gave Dean a puzzled look. “I didn’t know she had a Celtic Folklore degree.”

“He’s…He’s Dean.” Was the best thing that Sam could come up with to tell you. It was vague enough, but he also wasn’t lying to you.

“I uh…I gotta go Sam. I have an interview with a professor in about 30 minutes.” You got up from the bed and started making your way toward the motel bathroom. “I’ll call you later once the case is over.” You paused. “Thanks.”

“Bye Y/N. Be careful.” Sam responded, his voice sounding a bit too sad for your liking.

“Always am.” You reassured him before hanging up the phone. You looked at your phones wallpaper, a photo that you had wanted to change, but didn’t have the heart to do it, even though it’s been more than a year since you and Dean had ended things. It was a picture that you had taken while you were lying in bed with him; both of your hair messy from the night before. He was kissing your cheek, and you had the biggest smile on your face. You wished that you could go back to this moment because you remembered how happy you were here.

You woke up to the sounds of beeping and blinding lights; finding yourself squinting. Your mouth was dry, unable to recall the last time you had actually drank something. How long have you been here? Your eyes finally able to adjust to the brightness of the lights, you looked around and noticed that you were in the hospital; unsure of how you had ended up here in first place. The last thing you remembered happening was going to talk to the professor concerning the case that you were working on.

“Hi Professor Keating. I’m Agent Larkin. We talked on the phone.” You had knocked on the professors door, she was sitting at her desk and looked up at you with a soft smile on her face.

“Oh yes!” She quickly closed the book that was currently on her desk and got up from her chair. Walking over to you she held out her hand and you shook it. “You’re earlier than I was expecting.”

You looked down at your watch and noticed that you were about five minutes earlier than you’re scheduled interview time with her. “I can wait outside for a few minutes if need me to. But, I’d prefer not to. You understand that this incident is something that my office isn’t taking lightly.”

“Yes, of course.” The professor walked back over to her desk. “What do you need to know?”

When you turned to face the door to get more of a feel for your surroundings you noticed Dean slumped in the chair with his eyes closed and his arms crossed. You wondered how long he had been here. As if he knew you were looking in his direction he opened his eyes; the two of you making eye contact. He adjusted himself so he was now sitting upright in the chair. “Hey.” Dean said.

“Hey.” You said, unsure of what else to say to the man in front of you. There were in fact, a million different things that you had wanted to say to Dean, and there were a million things you had wanted to do. You had wanted to hug him, kiss him, tell him that you missed him. You felt tears start to well up in your eyes, no longer able to hold the composure that you were trying so hard to have. The last thing you had wanted was to cry in front of Dean. Not that you hadn’t cried in front of him before, but after not seeing each other in over a year, you didn’t want the first interaction between the two of you to be of you crying.

Dean got up from his chair without any kind of hesitation and walked over to the hospital bed. He took your hand – the one that didn’t have an IV stuck in it – and held it. For some reason, you weren’t expecting him to take your hand. Although you haven’t held his hand in over a year, the feeling of it felt like no time had passed, like you had just held it the same day or the day before. “How did you know I was here?” You asked.

“You still had John Bonham as your emergency contact.” You had forgotten that you had put Dean as your number one contact if something were to ever happen to you. You had meant to change it to someone else, but never got the chance to. With everything that had happened over the course of the last year, changing your emergency contact list was honestly the last thing that was on your mind.

“I’m surprised Sam didn’t come instead.” You replied, Dean went back to sitting in the chair that he had just been napping in.

“I told him not to.” Dean’s words caught you by surprise. A slightly confused expression must have formed on your face because of the next words Dean had said. “He offered to come in my place. But when I told him no,” he chuckled softly, “I swear he…” He looked at you, almost as if he was in some kind of disbelief. “He had the biggest smile on his face. Haven’t really seen him smile since…” Ever since you had left, the Bunker didn’t feel as warm. Sam, Jack, Cas, and even Dean himself, who despite everything that have gone through always had some kind of smile on their faces whenever you were around. But when you decided to leave, it was as if all the happiness had left the place. Dean hadn’t seen the three of them smile it seemed in almost a year; himself included.

“How long have you been here? Last thing I remember I was interviewing the professor. I don’t know if Sam told you or not.” As much as you had wanted to sit up, because of how awkward it was to be lying down in the position you were in to be talking to Dean, the slight pain that you were currently in was making it a little difficult to actually want to sit up.

“Haven’t been here that long. They called me about four hours ago. Arrived 30 minutes after that.”

Dean was lying in his bed, staring at the empty space next to him. It has been a year since you had slept in that spot next to him, and each and every day he had hoped that he would somehow wake up and you would be there lying next to him. That was one of the things that he had taken for granted while the two of you were together; waking up next to you. Each and every morning he would wake up to the scent of your body wash, that still lingered on your skin from your shower that night. He loved waking up to the smell of warm vanilla and honey; a scent that he thought used to be generic smelling – until he met you.

“I shouldn’t still be missing you.” He said to the empty space. The two of you ending things was one of the worst regrets of his life; and throughout his life, he had his fair share of regrets. So many times he had wanted to take back the things he said to you that night. So many times he had wanted to call you and tell you that he was sorry, that he was the one that was the jerk; not you. Over the course of the year he had forgotten what the argument even was about; but knew that it was probably something ridiculous, something that either of you could have easily gotten over.

His phone started to ring just then, unsure of who could possibly be calling him. Everyone that he had talked to was currently in the Bunker; besides you of course, but he knew for a fact that you wouldn’t be calling him. The number that came up was unknown, but he decided to answer it anyway just in case. He had somehow hoped that maybe you had changed your number and this was you calling. “Hello?” He asked.

“Hi. Is this...John Bonham?” An unfamiliar female voice asked. Definitely not you.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He was hesitant to say anything else.

“This is Nurse Julia from Republic County Hospital in Belleville, Kansas. I was calling in regard to a Joan Larkin.” Nurse Julia had said. For a moment, slight confusion washed over Dean as he didn’t know a Joan Larkin, well he did, that was the real name of Joan Jett; that’s when it clicked – Joan Larkin was you. Only you would have picked that name. “I’m calling because you’re her emergency contact.”

“Yes, she’s my…Is she okay?” He almost called you his girlfriend, something that you hadn’t been for such a long time. He almost slipped.

“Can you come in Mister Bonham? I would prefer not to talk about this over the phone.” Her voice was calm, and it was something that he needed, even though his heart was racing and his brain was coming up with worst case scenarios.

“Yeah. Yeah. I can be there.” He confirmed, before hanging up the phone. He had never put on his boots and grabbed his keys so fast in his life.

You smiled, not surprised that Dean had floored it to get here. You knew that the drive was supposed to be an hour, maybe a little bit more, but Dean had managed to make it a 30-minute drive. “Can’t believe you drove 30 minutes for me.” That’s not why you were impressed, you were impressed that he had driven here at all, given the fact that you two didn’t leave things on the best terms.

“I’d drive 30 hours straight for you.” The words that escaped Dean’s lips not only surprised you, but surprised him. The two of you hadn’t ended things on the best terms, and this was the first interaction that the two of you have had in over a year; only getting bits and pieces of each other’s lives through other people. Some of the information was reliable, some not; but in a weird way, it still felt like you were still in each other’s lives even if you didn’t talk to each other or see each other. He still cared for you, even if at times he couldn’t admit it to himself or other people. Deep down, he had hoped that you still cared about him too, but he wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t.

“The doctor said they would release you tonight. Your injuries weren’t that serious.” Dean said, not really giving you any time to respond to his previous comment. He wasn’t sure if he was protecting himself or you. There was a small part of him, that had wanted to know how you would have responded, but the part of him that won was the part that didn’t want to be rejected by you.

“What did the doctor say?” You asked. You wanted to respond to what he said previously, but he had quickly changed the subject too fast for you to.

“You had slight head trauma, but not a concussion. Not sure how you managed to pull that one off.” When Dean had talked to the doctor, they said that you had suffered a minor brain injury, but it wasn’t bad enough for you to get a concussion, which he was thankful for. Between you and him, you two have suffered plenty of concussions to last a lifetime.

“Brain injuries don’t always involve concussions.” You commented; remembering an article that you had read somewhat recently.

“Thank you Doctor Larkin.” He smirked. “Nice name by the way.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I learned from the best.” Before you had met the Winchester’s, using a rockstar alias is something that you would have never dreamed of using. Before you had met them, you always used some kind of generic name or a last name related to your childhood, almost as if you were filling out one of those security questions before you were able to log into your bank account. You had used your street name growing up, your favorite teacher’s last name, and even your mothers maiden name. You thought that using those names wouldn’t be as suspicious as using a famous one – like the Winchester’s had been doing for over 15 years.

“Shit.” You looked at Dean, a slight panic stricken look in your eyes. “My…my motel room. I have my case documents in there.”

“Don’t worry about it. I uh, while you were sleeping, I went and grabbed them for you. They’re in Baby along with the rest of your things.” After Dean made sure that you were safe and okay, he had left the hospital and went to your motel after calling Sam to see where you were staying.

Dean went up to the front desk, a slightly balding man was leaning up against the counter reading some kind of magazine that he’s never heard of. “Hey there. I was wondering if you could help me out.” Dean flashed the man a smile. The man looked up from the magazine he was reading; his expression bored. 

“Yeah?” His bored expression matched his bored sounding voice.

“My girlfriend is staying at this motel, and I wanted to surprise her. Can you tell me what room she’s staying in? I think she’s here under the name Larkin.” Calling you his girlfriend felt so good sounding coming out of his mouth, it was something that he had missed saying.

“Why don’t you text your girlfriend buddy.” The man placed air quotes around girlfriend.

“Listen, buddy.” Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out a 20 dollar bill, sliding it in front of the man. “Can you tell me what room she’s in?” The man looked at the 20 in front of him and grabbed it desperately.

“113.” The man replied, placing the 20 in the front pocket of his shirt.

“Thanks. How did you –” You stopped yourself from finishing the sentence. “Never mind. I think I already know.” You were about to ask how Dean had gotten into your room, but you knew how good he was when it came to breaking into rooms that he had no good reason being in. “You said, you said you have the rest of my things?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Everything that I could find that I knew was yours. Still have that same duffel bag uh?” When he saw that you were still carrying that duffel bag around, it had made him smile, because he had missed seeing that bag of yours. He had told you countless times that you had needed a new bag, but you had refused, because the bag had too much sentimental value for you to give up. Seeing this bag of yours, in all of its slightly tattered and stained glory, it had become sentimental for him too.

“You have your baby, I have mine.” You knew that you needed a new one, but you couldn’t part of it. That duffel bad, although tattered and stained, held a lot of sentimental value for you. “When I leave tonight, I’ll take it out of your hands. I have a case to finish.”

“No you don’t Sunshine.” The nickname that he had given you when you first met easily rolled off his tongue. “Sam got it handled. The professor you talked to? She was the big bad. She was the one that knocked you out too.”

You practically threw your head back onto the pillow. “Of course she was.” You didn’t know how you didn’t see it, but thinking back, it was rather obvious. All of the students that had been murdered were hers, she was the last one that had seen them all alive: she was the common denominator. “I feel so stupid.”

“I’ll cut you some slack. You did suffer a brain injury.” He grinned, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Well, I’ll still take my things back from you.” You saw his face drop slightly at your comment. You cocked your head, furrowing your brow. “What?”

“Would you…would you want to come back?” He was hesitant to ask.

“Come back where? The Bunker?” You asked, almost in disbelief that he would even ask. “Dean I don’t think –”

“Y/N, I want you to come back.” Yet another sentence that had surprised you. “The Bunker hasn’t been the same without you. I…I haven’t been the same without you.” His words started to crush you; you were speechless. You didn’t realize what kind of impact that you had had when you left. You knew that Jack, Cas, and Sam were going to miss you, they always told you how much they missed you and you did the same. They were like family to you, and you hated to leave your family. But you did what you thought was best, and clearly, that was a mistake. “I’m not blaming you. I’m, I’m blaming myself.”

“Dean, please don’t blame yourself.” There truly was no reason for him to blame himself, because you too were at fault. “We both said things that we probably shouldn’t have said to each other.” You sighed. “To be honest, I can’t even remember what the argument was even about. But I know it was something that we both should have gotten over.”

“To be honest, I can’t remember what the argument was about either. I just know it was about something stupid.” He got up from his chair, reaching into his front pocket and pulling out his phone, handing it to you.

“Why are you giving me your phone?” You were confused.

“Unlock it.” His response simple.

“Dean I don’t know your –”

“I never changed it.” With that, you typed in your birthday and his phone unlocked to reveal his wallpaper: it was the same photo of the two of you that was the wallpaper on yours.

“Dean…” You felt your eyes well up with tears again; Dean leaned down and kissed you on the top of your head. You didn’t realize how much you had missed the top of his head kisses. While you were with him, it was something that you had taken for granted because it was something he did all the time.

“Come back home.” Dean said; three words that he had wanted to tell you the second you walked out the doors of the Bunker over a year ago.

“Permanently?” You asked.

“Permanently.” He confirmed.

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #spn #supernatural #reader insert #female reader #fluff #mutual pining

[m-artsoul]

16/04/23

he knows this feeling all too well, he feels his heart begin to swell. handsome stranger, you have made his insides turn to jelly.

castiel’s version

reply to be added to the tag list

NOTE: okay, i couldn’t help myself and made a dean version woops

the quote is from Absolutely Smitten by Dodie Clark

tag list: @gaymishacollins ; @dakrapatops​

#art #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #spndaily #spncreatorsdaily #casdean #pining dean #spn #fanart #digital #full color #2023

[certainlynotseraph]

Could you imagine what would have happened if Dean busted his lip during a fight and instead of Castiel placing his hand on him to heal him, Cas leaned in and placed a kiss on Dean’s lips instead?

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #spnfandom #spnfamily #spncreatorsdaily #spn screencaps #castiel is bi #castiel novak #dean x castiel #castiel #dean is bi #deancas #dean winchester is bi #supernatural fandom #supernatural family #spn liveblog #spn aesthetic #spn crack #spn rewatch #destiel #dean loves cas #Castiel healing Dean #dean winchester imagine #pining #ao3feed #ao3 #ao3 writer #spn fanart #spn fanfic

[swsoulmatesdw]

Mutual pining <3

Sizzling chemistry 🔥

#sam and dean #samdean #wincest #mutual pining #pining #sam and dean are soulmates #brothers? someone should tell them that