#dean angst fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wildwestdean · 3 months

Text

transposition

summary: a spell goes wrong and ends up with you and sam switching bodies. neither of you tell dean, which ends up being the greatest decision you ever made

pairing: dean winchester x witch!reader; best friend!sam winchester x witch!reader (platonic, obvs)

word count: 6.3k+

warnings: swearing, mentions of magic use, misunderstandings, miscommunication, angst, secrets, accidental love confessions, awkward idiots, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, cliches, minor use of [y/n], (female pronouns/descriptors used)

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam grunted under his breath, continuing to powder the contents of your mortar with more force than necessary. “If Dean finds out about this-”

“Dean asked me to do this,” you defended, eyes skimming over the page in front of you before looking up at him. “Okay, maybe not verbatim, but he asked!” you added upon seeing the look on Sam’s face.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure he did,” he replied sarcastically, slamming the pestle down with enough force to make you flinch.

“Would you be fucking careful!” you hissed, glaring at him. “That thing isn’t indestructible and it’s important to me, it was a gift-”

“From Dean,” he finished for you. “I know. Sorry,” he added, and even though his tone was sincere, you just knew he rolled his eyes anyway; and you chucked the closest thing you could grab at his back in retaliation.

“Dick,” you muttered, going back to reading the passage before you.

It wasn’t often that you used your powers - more so when it came down to a last resort option - and when Dean first discovered that you had magic, it wasn’t intentional. The two of you were on a hunt together, and it was - of course - not going to plan. You were on the brink of consciousness, having no choice but to watch defenselessly as Dean became outnumbered by Vamps. The spell came out of nowhere, nothing more than a primal instinct to protect him, and before anyone knew what was happening, the two of you were left alone with nothing but piles of ash where the monsters once stood. Dean first thought that Rowena had somehow stumbled upon them to save the day once more, though once he realized the spell came from you, he damn near lost his mind. You would have rather he yelled at you, smashed things around, anything compared to what he did. Once he made sure you were okay and had you checked out, he simply acted as if you didn’t exist; you were completely frozen out of his life. He never needed to say anything, you could see it in his eyes every time he glanced at you: How could you be a witch? He hated witches, and you knew that- it’s half the reason you never told him in the first place. He only started coming around with Sam’s convincing- and even then, it took an incredibly long time for him to trust you again. Then, one day, he came to realize that no matter what happened, he could never hate you. So, he came to you with an open mind and a peace offering- the exact mortar and pestle you had once told Sam that you wanted, because it reminded you of your mother’s- and the two of you worked on putting the pieces of your friendship back together.

“Ass,” Sam retorted, turning and walking over to you with the freshly crushed ingredients.

“You know,” you started, taking it from his hands. “You can’t really be against this all that much, otherwise you wouldn’t be here helping.”

“I’m only here so you don’t get yourself killed.”

“Oh, come on,” you urged with a chuckle. “You love doing this, and you know it.”

He gave you a sarcastic smile before taking the book from you. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Fine,” you huffed, snatching the book right back.

With one final glare at each other, you started the spell. Everything was going well… until it wasn’t.

You aren’t exactly sure where it went wrong. You don’t know if it was the ingredients, the way you said the spell, or just a mixture of everything, but before you even knew what was happening the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow and sent both you and Sam flying.

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “What the fuck?” you wondered aloud, feeling strange beyond comprehension.

“What the hell happened?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I don’t know. Something feels wrong,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized why you felt so different. “Sam?” you asked meekly.

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up. “Wait-”

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; were they even your hands?

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; your body?

“You’re me!” you exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you.

“You’re me!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, using the wall behind you to help you stand. “God, how do you live like this?”

“Me? What about you? I won’t even be able to reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen!” he countered, flailing his arms around.

“At least you’ll be able to fit on your bed! My feet are gonna dangle!” you huffed, folding your arms over yourself.

“You need to fix this,” Sam declared, stepping towards you. You couldn’t help but take a few steps away- this was way too weird. You’ve seen shifters take your image before, but this was actually you. Only it wasn’t you. You felt like your head was about to explode.

“Gee, you think, Sam?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “I thought we’d just stay like this forever!”

He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door swinging open. You both flinched, turning to see Dean peering into the room.

“What the fuck’s with all the yelling?” he asked, glancing around. “The hell is going on?”

“I- uh-” you tried to answer, but nothing came to mind.

“Just, uh…. experimenting,” Sam supplied, and you sent him a glare.

“Experimenting?” Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows at you- or rather, at whom he thought was you.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug, not sure what else to say. The two of you shared a look, silently agreeing not to breathe a word of what was really going on.

Dean’s face softened, and he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually doing that spell. Sweetheart, we can get by without it.”

“We don’t-” you started to argue, before Sam interrupted you with a clearing of his throat.

Right. Dean wasn’t exactly talking to you right now.

“Thought it was a good opportunity to practice,” Sam replied, sounding more like he was asking than telling.

“Right,” Dean said, eyeing your body wearily.

Oh, god. He was gonna pick up on something being wrong, it was only a matter of time.

“You can leave any time now,” you spoke up, more irritated than you meant to sound, but you were severely on edge.

Dean turned to you with a look of surprise. “‘Scuse me?”

“I just- you know, we’re in the middle of something,” you continued, doing your best to stand your ground.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he quipped, taking a step towards you. “What the hell were you thinking? Why are you letting her mess around with this stuff? Better yet, why are you helping her mess around with this stuff?”

“It’s just a simple spell,” you argued, your head swirling with the fact that you were looking down on him, instead of being dwarfed by his frame like you normally would be.

“A simple spell?” he repeated, fury and irritation dancing in his eyes. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“Last I checked we could make our own decisions, Dean!” you exclaimed, glaring at him.

“Sure,” he placated with a nod. “So long as they’re not stupid ass decisions!”

“Can we go ten minutes in this place without a fight happening?” Sam pitched in, already exasperated with the situation.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean grumbled, glaring at you. “Food’s ready.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Sam announced, earning a glare from you in return.

“Don’t you think we should finish-” you tried to ask, but were quickly cut off by Dean.

“No, you guys are done in here,” he declared, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

“Dean-” you tried once more, only to be cut off again.

“Sam,” Dean warned. “I’m not kidding. Whatever you two were doing, it’s done.”

“Fine. We’ll be out in a few minutes,” you relented, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “We need to clean up!” you added upon seeing the look on Dean’s face.

“Five minutes,” Dean agreed pointedly. “Or I swear, I’ll drag both your asses out of this room.”

“Yeah, five minutes, got it,” you huffed, watching him as he hesitantly left the room.

You waited a few moments before hastily making your way over and all but slamming the door, turning to look at Sam with wide eyes.

“We are so screwed,” he declared, matching your expression.

“What are we supposed to do? He’s gonna figure out something’s wrong!” you exclaimed, slumping against the door behind you.

“We just…. I don’t know, pretend?” Sam suggested with a shrug.

“Pretend?” you repeated incredulously. “Sam, this is insane! We can’t just pretend to be each other!”

“It’s not like I meant permanently!” he defended, holding out his hands in surrender. “But until we can find a way to fix this, we have to at least play the part in front of Dean.”

“Fine,” you agreed with a huff. “But I am not going on your crack of dawn jogs.”

“Oh, come on-” he started to argue, though quickly stopped when met with your glare. “Yeah, okay, that- that’s fine.”

“Great. Now let’s go before Dean gets even more pissy,” you declared, opening the door with a flourish.

With a quick nod, he followed you down the hall, the two of you lowly bickering about the situation all the way to the kitchen.

“I feel like a baby giraffe with this fucking body.”

“You look like a baby giraffe, do you not know how to walk?”

“Yeah, I know how to walk! I know how to walk with normal legs!”

“Normal? You’re short enough to get in anywhere with a child’s pass!”

“Keep up with the attitude, Sam. Maybe I’ll go have a really nice salon visit and cut all this hair!”

“Fine, then maybe I’ll call up that guy from your ‘worst date ever’ and ask to catch up!”

“Fine by me. You’ll be the one he’ll be groping and hitting on the whole time.”

“Yeah- well-... look, just don’t cut my hair!”

“What are you two all hush hush about?” Dean asked curiously, eyeing you both as you entered the kitchen.

“Nothing,” you both quickly replied, taking a seat at the table.

Dean stared at you both for a moment before nodding curtly. “If you say so.”

Choosing not to reply, you both quietly watched as he joined the table, taking his regular seat next to you. Which, of course, meant he was currently next to Sam, and you watched in amusement as he shifted nervously while Dean got too close for his comfort.

Attempting to stifle a laugh, you took a bite of the burger that was placed in front of you, only to grimace in response. “What is this?” you asked through a mouthful, meeting Dean’s confused gaze.

“It’s… the same veggie burger you force me to make you every time I make burgers?” he replied, looking at you as though you lost your head.

Fucking Sam, you thought bitterly. “Oh, right. Right, it just- it tastes different, I don’t know,” you stammered, sparing a quick glance across at Sam as you hurriedly took another bite.

“You two are weirder than usual tonight,” Dean muttered to himself before eating his own food.

The three of you ate in stifling silence, you and Sam both internally trying to find a way out of this mess, before Dean spoke up again and pulled you from your revere.

“[Y/N], do you want just the usual from the store? I was gonna make a run before our movie night,” he said, turning to look beside him with a soft grin.

You felt your stomach drop as Sam cleared his throat, looking between you and Dean for a moment. “Movie night?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. “Like we have every Friday?”

“Oh, right!” Sam exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t realize what day it is, I, uh- I’m actually not… feeling too hot, do you mind if we skip it tonight?”

“You wanna skip it?” Dean asked quietly, making your heart shatter as you watched the hurt and disappointment flash across his face.

After the two of you made up from your falling out, you started a tradition of spending extra quality time together at least once a week. This resulted in having a movie night every Friday, no matter what. Whether that meant catching a random movie on a motel tv or settling into the Dean Cave, you both always found a way to make it. Knowing you had no choice but to skip out this time almost made you want to tell him what happened right then and there; but you didn’t.

“Yeah, I just… I think it’s best if I just head to bed, you know? I’d hate for it to get worse,” Sam said sheepishly, playing with the glass in front of him as he met Dean’s gaze halfheartedly.

You were glad that if you had to mistakenly swap bodies with someone, it was Sam. Given that he became your best friend from just about the moment you met, he had your behaviour down pat; you just hoped you could do the same and make this all a little easier.

“Well what do you mean, what’s wrong?” Dean asked worriedly.

“I’m just feeling run down is all,” Sam said, shrugging lightly as he stood up, taking his dishes to the sink. “Maybe we can watch something tomorrow,” he added, turning back to Dean with a shy smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed softly, averting his gaze to the beer in his hands. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.”

“Sure. Uh, goodnight, guys,” Sam replied awkwardly, shooting you a pointed look before leaving.

You stayed in uncomfortable silence for a moment, studying Dean as he pouted at his bottle.

“You alright?” you asked tentatively.

“Yeah, just… first time she’s bailed on me,” he replied indifferently, downing the rest of his beer before heading to get another one.

“She didn’t bail on you,” you argued firmly. “It’s not like she chose to go bar hopping or something, she’s sick.”

“Didn’t seem so sick when she was huddled up with you,” Dean said curtly, leaning against the counter as he sent you a cold stare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked confusedly, shifting in your seat to look at him better.

He remained silent, lips pursed as he studied you for what felt like hours, before he finally shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Then why say it?” you asked in irritation.

He remained silent once more, simply raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip before standing upright. “Night, Sammy.”

“Dean-” you tried to press, but he only ignored you as he continued across the floor, leaving the kitchen without saying another word.

You sighed in exasperation, quickly cleaning everything up before heading to your room, catching almost no sleep as you dove deep into researching for a reversal to your mistake.

“You need to shave,” Sam said, staring at you from across the table.

“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the declaration.

“Your beard - my beard. You need to shave it,” he clarified. “It’s been over a week.”

“And?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I doubt you’re taking care of all my housekeeping.”

“That’s because I’m doing everything possible to not look at you! Like you asked!” he hissed in return.

You rolled your eyes in response, returning your attention to the book in front of you. “I have more important things on my mind than shaving your stupid facial hair - which looks fine, by the way.”

Sam huffed, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, well you can at least take five minutes for me!”

“I don’t even know how to shave a beard, Sam!” you argued, closing the book in exasperation.

“Then just let me shave it for you!” he begged, leaning over the table. “I’m serious, [Y/N], you can’t just leave me all unkempt.”

You met his gaze and sighed softly. “Damn, you can even pull off the puppy dog eyes with my face. That’s a talent, Sammy.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, for what felt like the first time since this whole thing happened. “You can do it better than I can,” he chuckled. “At least when it comes to Dean,” he added with a smirk.

“What does that mean?” you asked curiously.

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get you- me- whatever, all taken care of before Dean gets back with dinner.”

“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed, getting up to follow him.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of him as he sat on the bathroom counter, because: “How else are we supposed to do this? These arms aren’t gonna reach that face comfortably without some help.”

You fell into a comfortable silence as he did what he needed to do, the only words spoken being his occasional nagging for you to quit moving, as you were both lost in your own thoughts about the last few days.

“I’m really sorry, Sammy,” you said suddenly. You weren’t sure whether your voice was so quiet due to the shame you felt, or for the fear of breaking the silence that surrounded you.

“It’s not your fault,” he said simply, reflexively.

You sighed, gently shaking your head; which earned another scolding glare from him as he steadied you. “It’s entirely my fault. I fucked up big time, and we both know it.”

“Look, it was an accident,” he urged, wiping away the remnants of the shave one last time. “Assigning blame isn’t going to change anything.”

“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be furious! I practically ruined your life,” you pressed on frantically.

“Okay, that’s being dramatic,” he chided. “Yeah, this isn't an ideal situation. Though weirdly, it’s also not the weirdest situation I’ve been in. And you know what? It’s not even the first time I’ve been in this situation! Remember when that kid switched bodies with me? Trust me, you’re a much better person to be switched with.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you said, chuckling softly. “Still, I’m really sorry.”

“I know you are,” he said softly. “I also know you’ll find a way to fix this.”

“You really believe that?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “‘Cause it’s you, and I’ll always have faith in you. You didn’t mean for this to happen, [Y/N]. It’s okay.”

“No, it-” you started to argue, but he cut you off.

“Stop,” he urged softly. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Maybe I was at first, but I’m not anymore.”

“Promise?” you asked meekly.

“I promise,” he said firmly.

“Okay,” you relented, not fully believing him but not wanting to push the topic any further.

“Okay,” he repeated, gently wiping away one of your stray tears.

“Maybe we should just tell Dean,” you suggested hesitantly.

“Tell me what?” Dean’s voice suddenly cut through the room.

The two of you jumped, and you moved away from the counter as calmly as you could, knowing how the predicament you were in must look to him.

You turned to the doorway and came face to face with Dean staring intently at the two of you, his mind working into an overdrive as he tried to make sense of the scene he just walked in on.

“Dean, I- when did you get back?” you asked nervously.

“Tell me what?” he asked again, ignoring your question.

You and Sam were both at a loss. You spent so much time trying to figure this whole thing out, yet neither of you thought to come up with some kind of story should you be cornered like this.

“[Y/N]?” Dean asked softly, looking over to where he thought you sat on the counter.

The look of hurt and confusion that flashed over his face and the waver in his voice all but sent a fresh wave of tears washing over you.

Dean waited impatiently a few moments before shaking his head with a scoff. “Whatever, food’s in the kitchen.”

Before anyone could say anything else, he turned on his heel and left, leaving you and Sam stunned in his wake.

The dynamic between the three of you began shifting even more ever since that night, and you could feel Dean slipping further and further away from you with each passing day.

You noticed it every time Dean would catch you and Sam huddled up and whispering low; when he would stand and stare before leaving with a quiet grumble of forgetting why he was there.

You noticed it when he started spending more time in his room or tinkering with Baby in the garage; finding any and every excuse possible to spend time outside of the bunker and away from you and Sam.

You and Sam tried to ignore it, promised yourselves that you’d explain everything once you managed to set things right - or, if you discovered you were over your heads and couldn’t fix everything.

The thing you hated most about this whole thing was that it was becoming easier and easier to lie to Dean; and the worst part about that was not knowing whether you and Sam really became more convincing, or if Dean just didn’t care enough to question you anymore.

Which is exactly why you found yourself sitting in the war room, waiting for Dean to make his way through to the kitchen, in order to try and talk things out.

You weren’t expecting him to appear with one duffle bag over his shoulder and another by his side - and he wasn’t expecting to see you, either.

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he declared after a moment of hesitation, continuing on his path to the stairs.

“Where the hell are you going?” you asked hotly, standing from your seat.

Dean sighed, throwing his head back in frustration as he considered his response. “Donna’s cabin.”

“What? Why?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together with confusion.

“I can’t do it anymore,” he said tiredly. “I just can’t, okay?”

“Do what?” you asked wearily, taking a tentative step towards him. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you pressed, feeling your chest tighten with the rising nerves and fear.

“Don’t do that,” he demanded, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You think I don’t know what’s been going on around here?”

“What-... what’s been going on?” you asked curiously. “The hell are you talking about?”

You weren’t sure if or when he figured out what happened, and you also weren’t sure why it would make him feel the need to leave.

“I’m talking about you and [Y/N]!” he shouted, throwing his bags down and stepping towards you.

“Me and [Y/N]?” you wondered, taking a nervous step backwards.

“I’m not an idiot, okay?” he spat, his jaw ticking. “You think I haven’t noticed? Think I couldn’t figure it out?”

“Okay, look,” you began, holding out your hands defensively. “I can explain.”

Dean let out a humourless laugh, running a hand over his mouth before glaring at you once more. “Explain,” he echoed with a chuckle of disbelief. “Don’t waste your breath.”

“Why are you so pissed off about this?” you asked in bewilderment. “I mean, I know we kept it from you, but we figure it’d be easier for you.”

“Easier for me?” he repeated, voice raising. “What about this entire situation makes you think it’d be easy for me?”

“Well because it-... I mean it doesn’t really affect you, Dean,” you replied, unsure of your own words.

“It doesn’t affect me?” he repeated with perplexion. “Of course it affects me! You know how I feel about her!” he exclaimed, taking yet another step forward.

“What?” you questioned, thrown off by his response.

“Don’t “what” me,” he snapped. “I want to be happy for you, Sammy. I really do, but I just-... I don’t think I ever can be.”

“Okay, I-... I am so lost,” you admitted.

“You stole my girl, Sam!” Dean all but screamed. “You know that I love her. You know I was gonna tell her, and you know how much I want to spend whatever’s left of my god forsaken life with her! You swore you didn’t feel that way about her. You- I mean how to hell could you do this to me, Sammy? I can’t even stand to look at you anymore.”

You remained silent, staring at him in shock and confusion for what felt like hours. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to formulate a response, but all that came out was a broken whisper of his name.

“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. Not like I can blame you for falling for her, right? I mean hey, I sure did,” he sassed, smiling sarcastically. “Not surprised she chose you, either. She deserves someone better than me. But I’m not sticking around anymore to see it first hand.”

You watched in stunned silence as he turned to gather his bags, trying and failing to think of anything to say. What the hell were you supposed to do? The man of your dreams just admitted he felt the exact same way, and you were trapped in his brother's body. Even if you told him the truth right now, would he even believe you?

“Do me one favour, though,” Dean said from the foot of the stairs, effectively pulling you from your thoughts. “Don’t tell [Y/N]. Don’t tell her anything. I’ll think of something to tell her during the drive and call her tomorrow.”

“Dean-” you finally began to protest, only to go unheard by him as he started up the steps.

“Later, Sammy,” he announced with finality, disappearing out of the bunker.

“You have got to be kidding me. I mean honestly woman, how stupid can you be?” Rowena’s voice rang through the war room as she made her arrival known to you and Sam.

“Did you not get in enough insults over the phone?” you asked in exasperation, not bothering to move from your spot in the library as you watched her approach.

“I don’t think there are enough insults for this situation, dear,” she said sweetly, smiling innocently.

“Either be helpful or leave, Rowena,” you replied solemnly.

It had been three days since Dean left, and over two weeks since the whole debacle happened. You had never been more determined to find a solution, nor had you ever felt more defeated.

“Alright, fine. No need to be cranky,” Rowena tsked, taking a seat across from you. “Go on, then. Walk me through everything.”

“Fine,” you sighed, steadying yourself before recounting the situation.

“Let me get this straight,” Rowena declared, holding a hand up. “You actually let him leave? After what he said?”

“Is that seriously your only take away from this?” you asked angrily, glaring at her.

“It’s not my only take away, but it’s certainly a big one,” she said calmly, accompanied by a half shrug. “This is the spell you used?” she asked, looking over the book you gave her during your explanation.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” you confirmed sheepishly.

“Well, don’t you worry. We’ll have you and Samuel right as rain in no time, dear,” she comforted, eyes never leaving the pages in front of her.

It took another four days, but ‘No time’ finally came. You were practically itching to get this all over and done with as the three of you finished setting everything up. You didn’t even care about being in your own skin again, all you cared about at this point was getting Dean back in your life. He did everything possible to avoid talking to you or Sam each time either of you tried contacting him, and you were missing him more and more with each passing hour.

“That should do it,” Rowena declared, snapping you back to attention. “You know what you need to do?”

“Yes,” you said quickly, urging her out of the room; the last thing you needed was for her to be around and have the spell go wrong again, resulting in all three of you being scrambled around.

“Don’t rush it!” she cautioned. “I know you want him back, but you need to take this slowly. You can’t afford another screw up!”

Her statement made you pause, and you knew she was right. “Go slow, I got it,” you confirmed, shutting her out of the room.

“Ready?” Sam asked, looking at you eagerly; albeit nervous beyond belief.

“More than ever,” you declared, taking your place at the altar.

You began the spell, doing everything slowly and precisely so there was no room for error. Once you had finished, however, nothing had happened. You were just about ready to scream with all the emotions boiling inside of you when suddenly the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow, sending both you and Sam flying.

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “This again?” you wondered aloud.

“Did it even work?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I think so,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized what happened. “Sam?” you asked breathlessly.

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up himself. “Wait-”

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; your own hands.

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; his very own body.

“You’re you!” you exclaimed in glee, pointing at him.

“You’re you!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, taking a moment to steady yourself on your own feet. “I need to go,” you announced, not giving him time to reply before you ran out of the room.

“You’re welcome!” Rowena called after you, watching you run by.

“Thank you!” you called back absently, hurrying out to your car.

The drive took longer than ever before; at least, it felt like it did. You spent the whole time trying to think of what to say, of how to explain, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed like enough. All you could hope for was that everything would magically come to you once you stood before him.

If he ever decided to open the goddamn door.

“Dammit, Dean! Open the fucking door before I break it down!” you yelled, banging your hand against the wood for the upteenth time.

You opened your mouth to yell once more, but before you could even make a sound a voice boomed out from behind you. “What are you doing here?”

You turned with a start, coming face to face with Dean as he stood at the bottom of the steps. “I came to talk to you,” you said simply, taking a few steps forward.

He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on wiping the grease from his hands with the rag he held. “Coulda just called,” he countered gruffly.

“Why?” you asked, laughing dryly. “You’d just ignore my calls.”

He stilled his ministrations for a moment before shrugging, glancing back up at you. “Maybe ‘cause we got nothing to talk about.”

“Dean-” you tried to argue, though you stopped short when he rolled his eyes and turned away from you.

“Look, I know all about you and Sam, okay?” he huffed, storming across the drive and to where Baby was parked, hood still open for Dean to continue working on her.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Dean. There is no me and Sam!” you exclaimed with a groan, quickly following behind him.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he placated, picking up his previously abandoned ratchet.

“Just listen to me,” you pleaded, watching his face scrunch with a mix of frustration and concentration as he dove back into his work.

“You don’t need to explain,” he said distractedly. “I get it. He’s good for you. I just-... you didn’t need to hide it, [Y/N/N]. I thought we were closer than that.”

“We are! That’s not what we were hiding, just let me explain!” you said desperately, stepping closer to him.

“You can quit the act, okay?” he snapped, stopping what he was doing as he stood up, finally turning to look at you. “I have eyes, I saw what-”

“Sam and I fucking switched bodies!” you yelled over him, effectively rendering him speechless. “Alright? When you walked in on us doing that spell the other week… it went wrong, Dean. Sam and I, we just-... we switched!”

“You… switched bodies?” he asked slowly, scepticism starting to present itself on his face as he processed what you said.

“Yes,” you confirmed softly. ”I was Sam, Sam was me.”

He nodded, shifting uncomfortably as he anxiously tapped his fingers on Baby’s exterior. “Well, isn’t that just a great story,” he muttered, leaning under the hood once more.

“It’s not a story,” you argued desperately. “It’s what happened.”

“Then why not tell me?” he challenged, not missing a beat.

“Because,” you began lamely. “You always have so much on your plate, Dean. We didn’t want to shove this stupid thing on you and add to your worries.”

“So you lied to me for my own good?” he asked harshly, gaze not straying from his hands as he worked.

“We didn’t lie, we just-”

“Avoided the truth,” he finished for you. “Same thing, if you ask me.”

“We thought it was for the best,” you admitted quietly.

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed sarcastically, throwing his tools down. “Sneaking around, icing me out. Definitely for my best interest, huh?”

“Dean, please,” you pleaded. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Then why did you come, [Y/N]?” he shouted, shutting Baby’s hood. “What did you think was gonna happen here?”

“Well, I thought-... I just-... I wanted to clear the air,” you stammered. “I wanted to explain.”

“Well, you explained,” he muttered, busying himself with tidying his mess.

You watched him silently for a few moments, trying to think of your next move. You decided to ask the question that’s been on your mind since he left: “Were you really planning on actually telling me one day?”

He let out an irritated sigh, picking up his belongings and moving around to the trunk. “What are you talking about?”

“Were you really gonna tell me?” you repeated, quickly taking a few steps to meet him at the trunk.

“Tell you what?” he huffed, irritation oozing off of him as he slammed the toolbox down.

“How you feel!” you blurted out, taking yet another step towards him.

“The hell are you talking about?” he questioned, feigning cluelessness. Though the way his body stiffened as he idly messed with the stuff in the trunk betrayed him; he knew what you meant.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you replied softly. “Were you?”

“I don’t know!” he huffed, shutting the trunk. “Maybe,” he added, walking away from you once more.

“You said-”

“I know what I said!” he interrupted, clearly irritated. “Can we not relive it? I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well I do!” you argued, exasperated. “Why the fuck else do you think I’m here, Dean?”

“To clear the air,” he sneered, repeating your earlier words as he made his way back to the cabin.

“To tell you I love you!” you shouted after him, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t choose Sam. How can I choose him when I’ve loved you for years? How can I choose him when my entire world stopped spinning the day you shut me out of your life all those years ago? How can I choose him when I didn’t feel like I could breathe until you finally spoke to me again? How can I choose him, when having to watch you walk away the other day was the most terrifying thing I had to do, because I didn’t know if I’d ever get you back this time? You can put us in any timeline, in any universe, or in any realm, and I will always choose you. I love you.”

You were met with silence for entirely too long, and you watched the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders as he kept his back to you, standing tense as ever with his head down low.

“Will you just look at me, please?” you pleaded shakily.

As soon as the words left your mouth he spun on his heel and marched towards you, closing the distance between you two in seconds. He grabbed your face in his hands, letting a moment of hesitation pass by before crashing his lips against yours. It was harsh yet delicate, slow but needy. It was gentle and all consuming. His hands strayed from your face, one sweeping to the back of your head to hold you steady while the other slipped to your waist and pulled you close. Your hands found themselves gliding up his arms, resting on the base of his neck for a moment before settling on his cheeks.

When the two of you finally pulled away to catch your breath, it seemed like neither of you wanted to go too far; foreheads pressed together and noses brushing as you both giggled quietly, shy smiles on your swollen lips.

You stood like that for a few minutes, basking in each other's presence in ways you never could before, until your gentle whisper cut through the silence: “Please come home, Dean.”

“My sweet girl,” he said quietly, planting a delicate kiss to your forehead before completely wrapping you up in his arms, holding you closer than ever. “I am home.”

tagging: @winharry

dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika

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queen-of-deans-booty · 3 months

Text

Across Every Universe

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey Jordan, can i request something where Dean Winchester always have a crush on the reader but never said something to her until one day Sam and Dean are transported (based on the episode French Mistake) and Dean actor Jensen and is married to the reader of the universe and she pass the whole day giving Dean hug and kisses because for everyone is Jensen. When Dean and Sam came back to their universe him and the reader start dating? Fluff

Summary: Sam and Dean are taken back to the same place where Dean is known as Jensen Ackles and Sam as Jared Padalecki. This little trip makes Dean realize his feelings for you.

Square Filled: "god, if only you knew what you did to me" (2023) for @spnaubingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

No matter the position you’re in, you’re not comfortable. It doesn’t matter if you lie down on your side, your back, or your stomach. Not to mention the heater isn’t working in the Bunker so it’s very cold. You have three blankets over you while wearing long sleeves and pajama pants. The broken heater doesn’t help your running cold either. You’re not sure where you caught it from but you’ve been trying to stay away from the brothers to not get them sick.

That doesn’t keep Dean away, though.

He’s a complete sweetheart to you since he always brings you soup, makes sure you’re comfortable, and spends time with you even if you tell him not to go near you. You don’t know what you’d do without Dean in your life.

Speaking of, he knocks on your door and enters wearing his usual hunting attire.

“Going on a hunt?” you ask and sit up slightly.

“Yeah. I wish I could stay here and take care of you.”

“Other people need you,” you smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to stay in bed, watch movies, and make some soup later. Did you fix the heater, yet?”

“I have someone coming in a few days. He’s also on a hunt.”

“Right, no non-hunters here,” you chuckle.

“I’ll call you later and check up on you, okay?”

“My hero.”

You cuddle with your blankets more and Dean leaves your room with a slight blush on his cheeks. Before he closes the door, he looks back at you in thought. God, if only you knew what you did to me.

He closes your door and meets his brother in the library. As soon as they are packed and ready to go, they start the long drive to the next state over. When Dean gets onto the highway, Sam turns to Dean with a knowing smile.

“So, did you tell her how you feel?”

“Stay out of it, Sammy,” Dean rolls his eyes.

“How long have you had a thing for her? Years? When are you going to tell her how you feel?”

“I mean it, Sam. Stay out of it. I can handle it on my own.”

“Apparently not, or else she’d be yours.”

Dean punches his brother not gently in the arm and Sam laughs. Dean kept the music high so he could avoid talking about his feelings for you. They get to the town that has its residents sacrificing themselves in the name of God. If anything, it warrants some kind of visit from the Winchesters.

The town looks like a normal town with normal people just trying to live their normal lives. They have no suspicions that something is happening but they only just arrived. They get there late at night so they will have to do their work tomorrow morning. Dean takes out his phone when his brother goes into the bathroom to shower and calls you.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“I’m doing alright but not any better.”

“Did you take your medicine?”

“Yes, I did.” He can hear the smile in your voice and that makes him smile. “And I ate my soup and drank water.”

“Don’t forget to tell her goodnight,” Sam says loudly from the bathroom.

Dean grabs a pillow and chucks it at his brother. “Go take a shower. You stink.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” you chuckle, having heard Sam.

“Night sweetheart.” He hangs up and turns to his brother with a scowl. “I hate you.”

Sam and Dean actually get more than four hours of sleep that night but when Dean wakes up, he doesn’t recognize his surroundings. The motel is gone, the shutty beds and blankets are gone, and the peeling wallpaper is gone. What replaces it is a nice trailer, a comfortable bed, a big aquarium, and other nice shit that Dean has never had.

“Sammy?” he calls out. He gets up and leaves the small trailer only to run into Sam. “What the hell is going on? Where are we?”

“I don’t know.” Sam looks around and spots a name on the side of the trailer that’s behind Dean. “Oh, no. Look.”

Dean turns and sees the name ‘Jensen Ackles’ on the side. He turns back around and sees ‘Jared Padalecki’ on the trailer opposite his.

“You’ve got to be kidding me? We’re back in actor land? What happened last time?”

“Gabriel sent us here to avoid Raphael and his minions. I have no idea how we ended up here.”

“I bet it has something to do with the fact that people were sacrificing themselves in the name of God. My guess is that angels are involved.”

“There you two are.” Sam and Dean turn to see Castiel--Misha--walking toward them. “They’re looking for you two.”

“Yeah, we’re coming.”

If Sam and Dean didn’t do a good job trying to act last time, then they certainly aren’t going to do a good job now. It’s funny in hindsight but it makes for a very long day of filming. After the twentieth time messing up, Dean is ready to get the hell out of there to figure out how to get back to his world.

He looks to the right and sees you at the snack bar. He immediately calls for a time-out and leaves the set.

“Time out?” the director frowns and looks at him. “Everyone, take ten!”

“Y/N?”

“Come here, you have to try this. Gen made it,” you grin at Dean. You take a scoopful of food and present it to him. He opens his mouth and accepts the food, pleasantly surprised by the taste. “Oh, you have something on your mouth.” You wipe his bottom lip with your thumb and lick the food off. Dean is so confused about your behavior but doesn’t have time to figure it out. Your phone rings and you check who is messaging you. “I gotta go. Gen is here.”

You lean up and kiss him quickly before walking off. Dean can’t move after that quick kiss. You did it so casually like you’ve done it a thousand times. He is forced to go back to acting but he can’t do a good job because all he’s thinking about is your lips on his.

They aren’t getting enough filming done so the director calls it for the rest of the day. Sam and Dean convene outside to make it look like they’re busy so no one else talks to them.

“She kissed me, dude.”

“What?”

“Y/N or the woman who she’s supposed to be. She kissed me like we’re together or something.”

“Look, I’m glad you’re going through the five stages of teenage excitement but can we focus here? How are we going to get out of here?”

Dean looks around and spots you entering his trailer.

“Eh, you’ll figure it out. I’ll be back.”

Dean leaves to his trailer and Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“Dean!” he hisses but receives no answer.

Dean enters his counterpart’s trailer and sees you where the bed is. You’re grabbing some night clothes out of the drawers since you’re not going to be leaving the trailer for the rest of the night.

“Hey, I talked to Gen about the cabin and she got it all set up for us this weekend. I’m so excited to spend some time away from all this for two days.”

“Are we dating?” The comment makes you laugh. “What?”

“Are you okay?” He looks kind of nervous so you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but I do know how to make you feel better.”

“How?” he whispers.

You run your hands down his chest and take his hands. You take him to the bed and toss your night clothes onto a nearby chair. You fall onto the bed while pulling him so he lands on top of you but he stops himself with his hands so he doesn’t completely crush you.

You pull him down to kiss you and that’s enough to bring Dean into the delusion that you’re Y/N and you’re his. Your lips are softer than what he thought and your body fits so perfectly against his. He slips his tongue into your mouth to get familiar with you. You tug on his hair to get some traction so he pulls away from your mouth and kisses down your neck.

Your neck has always been a sensitive spot for you and he really knows how to work you up. He licks up and down your neck before latching onto the side of it. You gasp, tilt your head back, and moan something that brings Dean back down to reality.

“Jensen.” You’re not his. You’re not you. You’re Jensen’s. You’re not supposed to be with him. He pulls away and pants above you. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we just lay here instead?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me get changed.”

You slip out from underneath him and grab the pajamas you set aside earlier. You strip down naked and Dean has a hard time not looking at you. He can’t help but think you’re a complete stranger. The pajamas you’re wearing are revealing but he feels better at looking at you with clothes on. You climb into bed with him and cuddle into his side, and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your head.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“Tell me the story of how we met.” You look at him in confusion. “I want to hear it from you.”

“Okay, I got tickets to a red carpet event that my ex-friend invited me to. We were going to see the movie My Bloody Valentine because we thought it was going to be the next big movie. The entire cast was there, including you, meeting fans and taking pictures with them. When we locked eyes, it was like something was pulling you to me.

“You came over to me, complimented me on my dress, signed my poster with your number on it which I still have, and the rest is history. I never got together with you because you were a big celebrity. You were genuine, kind, funny, charming, and very sexy. It was hard not to fall in love with you.”

Dean notices the big ring on your finger and puts the pieces together.

“We’re married?”

“Yes, we are,” you laugh. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just… really happy.”

You lean over and kiss him. The next morning, Dean leaves his trailer before you get up. He doesn’t want to wake you even though he wants to. He finds Sam outside his own trailer with a book in his hands.

“Hey,” Dean sighs.

“I might have found a way out of here, no thanks to you.”

“What if we didn’t leave?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“The love of my life is my wife here.”

“That’s not your wife, Dean. She’s Jensen’s wife. She thinks you’re him. Why would you take that away from him? You have a girl waiting for you at home, a girl with whom you’re too scared to do anything about. Don’t take her away from him because you want what they have.”

Dean knows he’s right. He can’t stay here. He’s using this world as an escape from his own.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean sighs. “What do you have?”

“I found this book in the prop section. This might be a TV show but it does have some useful books to make it look real. There’s a ritual we can do.”

And a ritual it is. Once they get the stuff needed and perform it, they are brought back to the town they arrived in a couple of days ago. In order to properly tackle this town, they’re going to need some angelic help. Maybe Castiel can meet them back at the Bunker and figure something out then.

The first thing Dean does when he gets home is go looking for you. You’re still stuck in bed watching your favorite movies on Disney+. You pause your movie when your bedroom door opens.

“Hey, how was the hunt?” Dean doesn’t say anything as he kicks off his shoes. He climbs into bed with you and pulls you close to him. “Dean?”

“I love you,” he blurts. “I should have told you this years ago but I can’t seem to think straight when I’m with you. You make everything better for me, and you’re a better hunter than I ever was. God, I love you so much.”

“I’d kiss you but I don’t want to get you sick,” you smile.

“I don’t care,” he whispers and kisses you.

This is where he belongs. Right next to you.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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zepskies · 4 months

Note

Hi, how are you?

I was wondering if you could write something like "Dean reads you wrong" but with Sam Please

Hey, lovely!

I'm doing well, thank you. 💜 I hope you are too! Hmm, I'm still working through my current bank of requests, but since "Dean reads you wrong" is so fresh, it got me thinking about how Sam would go about this...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: It's hard for Sam to admit he wants you...when he thinks you might want his brother.

Song Inspo: "If You're Gone" by Matchbox Twenty

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Sam reads you wrong.

When Sam falls for someone, he's...well, what he would call self-aware.

But also cautious.

He knows his own track record with women. He knows the life he leads, and has resigned himself to giving up most kinds of normalcy or domesticity.

And maybe, a part deep in the back of his brain has given up on the idea of love.

That's why it's so damn confounding...how you've managed to take him by surprise.

He's always been able to rely on you. Whether it's sharing the brunt of the research with him when Dean loses focus, or staying up with Sam on late nights, sharing mugs of tea and quiet conversation, bonding over familiar tastes in books, and '90s grunge music, of all things.

You also confessed to him, late one night, that you have a growing collection of mugs, fuzzy socks, and vinyl records, despite the fact that your record player has collected more dust than the bunker's old storage room.

You're wonderfully weird.

And you're unfailingly loyal to who you consider "your people." And Sam thinks (knows) he's fortunate enough to be included in that small circle.

Sam also knows, deep in his gut, no matter how much he tries to "rationalize" it away, that you're special. And special to him.

You've managed to do more than just slip under his skin. When he thinks too hard on it, he can admit it (just to himself). You've infiltrated all four corners of his heart so deeply, he doesn't have a prayer of scooping you out.

Some days, it's all he can do not to reach out while you're chatting away, filling the silence.

He can picture it like a scene in his mind: of interrupting your mouth with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to his and showing you, with or without words, that he wants you...

And yet.

He can't help but watch how you are with Dean.

You two tease each other, bicker and gripe over coffee grinds left in the coffee pot and who ate the last of the leftovers. You fight with Dean over the remote on movie night (once, damn near smothering him with a pillow).

But you also dote on him, making sure Dean has one of his favorite desserts every time you go out to buy groceries. You swap his beer out for water when he's not looking. (And though Dean frowns and grumbles, he doesn't argue with your raised brow and imploring look.)

It's not quite flirting, but it's not quite platonic either—at least in Sam's eyes. You and Dean seem to have something.

And sometimes, your playful banter with his brother makes Sam sick to his stomach.

Like today, when Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table reading while you're making a cup of tea. The silence between you two is amiable, like usual.

Sam steals a glance at you and has to smile.

"Going with purple polka dots today?" he asks.

You look over with knitted brows of confusion, until you follow his gaze. You laugh sheepishly and wiggle your toes through your fuzzy socks.

"The floor is cold as hell," you defend yourself.

Sam's smile deepens a fraction as he turns back to his book.

"They're cute," he adds.

You turn your face to hide your blush. The mild thunder of heavy boots announces Dean's presence as he pops into the kitchen.

"Oh good, you're cooking. What's for dinner?" he asks. You turn to give him a familiar narrowed look.

"Who says I'm cooking?" you counter.

"Well, you're doing something on the stove..." Dean peers over and catches a whiff of the concoction you're brewing. He grimaces. "Second thought, I'm good. That smells like ass, whatever it is."

You roll your eyes at him. "It's just green tea, Dean. You know, health?"

He levels a deadpan expression at you as he opens up the pantry.

"I see your 'health' and I raise you...Doritos," he says. He digs his hand into the bag he's just pilfered and crunches a mouthful in your face. You can't help but splutter a laugh and push Dean away.

"You're ridiculous. If you catch a heart attack at 50, don't come crying to me."

"Hey, at least I'll die happy."

"Oh, right. A silver lining there. I'd hate to see what your arteries look like," you tease.

"Has anyone told you that you're unsavory?" Dean asks, continuing to crunch with an open mouth.

You smirk. "Is that your way of calling me sweet?"

He snorts. "Sure, sweetheart. We'll call it that."

"You know, I'm not your sweetheart," you point out.

Dean discreetly glances his brother's way with a sly glint in his eyes. Sam doesn't see it; by now he's trying his damndest to keep his eyes in his book and ignore the way his stomach is clenching, chest tightening.

Dean shifts his attention back at you and reaches down to brush your chin with his thumb.

"Not yet, but you could be," he says, in a flirtatious edge that he's never quite taken with you.

You're wide-eyed for a moment. In the end, though, you choose to take it as teasing. You push his hand away and give him an annoyed look.

"God, you're such a clown. Order a pizza if you're that hungry," you rejoin, and you pour two mugs of freshly brewed tea. "I won't even bother offering you one."

"Nope," Dean says, popping the "p." He walks out of the kitchen, giving Sam a firm slap on the back. Sam coughs and shoots his brother a frown.

Dean has the gall to wink at him before he walks out. Like he's having his own little private joke.

Well, Sam isn't laughing. He stares down hard at his book. He tries to ignore everything he just heard and saw out of the corner of his eye.

It becomes too much. He takes up his book and heads out of the kitchen.

He just doesn't see the way you frown as he walks away. There you stand, left holding two mugs of tea for you and him.

Sam returns to his room for a while. He's not hiding. He's...reading.

There's a knock at his door, and if it's Dean, he swears he's going to open his mouth and tell his brother to leave him the hell alone, like he's some kind of moody teen.

But it's you.

"Hey," you greet, after the door creaks open. Sam softens.

"Hey," he says, clearing his throat. "What's up?"

"You," you reply. You bring him his hot mug of tea and set it down on the desk where he sits.

"Thanks," he says.

You nod and place your mug beside his (Lord of the Rings themed, of course), and cross your arms as you lean against his desk.

Sam turns toward you in his chair. His hands rest on his thighs. His gaze travels back up to your face as he tries to keep his neutral, but welcoming to whatever you want to ask him. (He buries his heart deep, as he instinctively does whenever you're near him.)

"You okay?" you ask. Your brows furrow the longer you gaze down at him. Just staring, like you know he's hiding something. Like you can see straight into him, into the shadows where he keeps most of his thoughts of you.

This is perhaps the only area of his life where he's a coward.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replies, in a tone that suggests, Why wouldn't I be?

You quirk a smile. "Why don't I believe you?"

Sam swallows. For once, he's not sure what to say to you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you say softly. You take a subtle step into his orbit, almost between his open legs. Your demeanor says that you'd gladly listen, do whatever he asked of you. Because you're just that kind.

Sam's mouth twitches upward. "I know. I'm fine, really."

"You're fine, or you're Winchester fine?" you raise a brow.

Sam chuckles then, showing a flash of his smile. It lightens you.

"Maybe a bit of the second one," he admits.

You smile and inch closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah? Tell me," you say. Your voice is soft, but not quite a whisper.

It leads Sam to sigh. He grasps your hand where it lies on his shoulder. For a moment, he debates internally. He realizes then that Dean's antics earlier might've been more than just teasing. Maybe it was a subtle nudge—to stop wasting time.

Damn it, just do something, Sam thinks.

When you squeeze his hand back, it's just the small push he needs. He glances up at you.

Then he takes your hand and holds it between both of his, with care. He tugs you forward, surprising you as you step forward between his legs. Your mouth parts in soft surprise when he reaches a hand up to your cheek.

You still look surprised, blushing up to your ears, but you're not pulling away. In fact, your widened gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

Sam smiles. He tugs you down to him and enacts a living daydream, finally kissing you with everything he has. Everything he’s had locked inside.

You respond to his mouth in kind; the subtle gasp of breath against his lips sharply cuts off as you sink into his kiss. Your trembling hand comes to his cheek, grazing the dull prickle of stubble. When your fingers dive into his hair next, it’s his turn to take a deep breath.

With each new kiss, he explores more of you. His hands find your waist, and he gathers you against his chest. You find purchase on his strong shoulders and give into the opportunity to straddle his hips, sitting in his lap while he continues to make your heartbeat wild in your chest.

Sam slows the kiss, only because his brain is starting to catch up with his heart. He wants to see your face, to make sure this is what you want.

He finds that and more when he looks up at you.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"Does that answer your question?" he asks, with a soft laugh. You join him and press your forehead against his.

"I don't know,” you tease. Your eyes are dancing, both with amusement and relief. Because your heart has wanted this for even longer than Sam's.

You lean back in to whisper close to his lips. “Maybe I need a little more clarity."

Sam takes you at your word.

AN: It's been a long time since I've written for Sam! 💜 I got in another request for him a while ago. I may dust that one off soon... Until then, let me know what you think of this!

(And don't worry. I didn't forget about the Soldier Boy imagine I promised. That will come out at the end of this week, most likely!)

Read Dean's version: "Dean reads you wrong."

Sam Winchester Masterlist

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@deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @violetlilysunshine @nic-kolas @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @malindacath @brujaporfavor @katherineann83 @torchbearerkyle

@sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @adoringanakin @sanscas @pap3rtigers @kaleldobrev @nix-rose

#Sam reads you wrong #Sam winchester imagine #Sam winchester x reader #Sam winchester x you #sam winchester x female reader #angst #reader requests #ask me stuff #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 7 months

Text

Lost Comfort

masterlist

summary: dean hurt you when he was a demon, now it’s hard to sleep next to him

paring: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language, violent themes

word count: 1.1k

warnings: please read! talk of serious sexual assault, demon!dean being worse than he was in the show, (he wasn’t even that bad in the show, but he’s bad in this), language

“Dean, stop, this isn’t you!” you shrieked, pushing the demon’s arm away. It was no use. Dean was stronger than you when he wasn’t a supernatural being, but now you didn’t even stand a chance.

“C’mon, sweetheart, I know you love me,” he laughed, black eyes staring at you.

“Of course I do Dean, but I know you love me too and this isn’t love! Please get off of me!” you sobbed.

Your eyes flung open, a thin layer of sweat coating your forehead. You blinked away the dream and took in your surroundings, before realizing Dean’s arms were wrapped tightly around you.

“Dean, let me go,” you said. It came out as barely a whisper. Even if he was awake he wouldn’t have heard you. “Dean, please- fuck, let me go!” you repeated, but you were still barely speaking. “Dean let go!” you screamed, which woke him up.

“Y/n?” He furrowed his brows. “Hey, you okay?”

“Dean let me go! Now!” you cried. He flung his arms open and you hurried out of the bed. “God fucking damn it! I told you to let me go and you didn’t!”

“I- I’m sorry, hun I was asleep I swear I didn’t hear you,” he said quietly as he sat up.

“This was a mistake, I can’t sleep next to you! What was I thinking?” you scoffed. “I’m sleeping in the Dean Cave, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait, no don’t go! I’ll go sleep on the couch, you stay here!” He got out of bed but didn’t miss the flinch you threw when he walked towards you. “I’m so sorry.”

Sam suddenly burst through the door; gun in one hand and holy water in the other.

“What happened? He a demon again?” Sam asked you, his eyes wide.

“Just a bad dream.” You shook your head. You brushed past Sam and walked towards the Dean Cave before stopping in your tracks. You hurried back to yours and Dean’s room.

“I still love you, Dean, I just need a bit of time, okay?” You smiled sadly, noticing the tears now on his face as he nodded.

“I love you, take all the time you need,” he replied.

With that you left.

“Dude, what the fuck happened?” Sam asked, putting his gun and the holy water down. “She’s never left you after a dream before, has she?”

“I- I think the dream was about me,” Dean whispered. “Fuck, I really hurt her this time Sam. I- I don’t think she’s gonna be able to forgive me.”

“This is Y/n, Dean,” Sam started, “she’d do anything for you. I think she just needs time.”

“But you don’t know what I did.” Dean let silent tears fall as he thought about what his demon self had done to you.

“I mean, it couldn’t have been that bad?” Sam scoffed a little then Dean looked at him. “Right?”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head, looking down. “I r-ruh—god, I can’t even say it out loud.”

“Oh god,” Sam muttered, internally jumping to (correct) conclusions. “It’s been like two weeks, Dean. Of course she can’t stand to sleep next to you.”

“But it wasn’t me!” Dean cried. “I hate myself so fucking much for taking this stupid fucking mark and letting it consume me.”

“Dean-”

“Don’t get me wrong, I do not blame her if she doesn’t wanna ever see me again, but fuck! I’d do anything to fix this.”

“Just give her space.” Sam shrugged. “I think that’s all you can do right now. Whatever future your relationship with her has, is completely up to her.” As he turned to leave, he added; “But also be prepared for her not to forgive you for this. I don’t think she’ll be able to.” With that Sam left.

“Dean please!?” you screamed. “Dean, I love you! I know you’re in there somewhere, please stop!”

You woke up alone in the Dean Cave, beads of sweat rolling down your temples.

“Shit!” you mumbled, letting tears fall.

You sat up on the couch and tucked your knees into your chest. You checked the clock and realized you’d only gotten about forty-five minutes of sleep since your last dream.

You tried to go back to sleep but every time you closed your eyes you were met with the horrid memories; Dean hovering over you with his demon eyes.

You tossed and turned for a while before you realized there was only one person in the world who could make you feel better and he was the one person you couldn’t stand to touch right now. You huffed to yourself as you got up and left the Dean Cave.

When you opened the bedroom door you were met with Dean crying softly into your pillow, facing away from the door.

“Hey,” you said quietly, your voice laced with trace amounts of fear. His eyes flung open and he slowly sat up.

“Hey, uh- what’re you- what’re you doing here, uh, Y/n?” He stumbled over his words and wiped his tears away with his hands. He put his feet to the hardwood to stand up but you backed away and shook your head. You didn’t want to be that close to him.

“I- I’m still scared of you, I’m sorry,” you whispered. “But I love you,” you added quickly. “I love you so fucking much and I know I can’t sleep next to you, but I can’t sleep properly without you. So, I uh, I’m just gonna sleep in here… on the floor.”

“What? Honey you can’t sleep on the floor,” Dean said. “I’ll sleep on the floor, you can have the bed.”

“No, cause then I’ll feel bad about kicking you out of bed,” you mumbled, causing Dean to smile a little.

“How about this; we both sleep on the floor by our sides of the bed. That way neither of us feel bad about the other, we’re far enough apart, and we can see each other from under the bed.”

“I’d like that.” You smiled softly. “Can I maybe use your pillow though, looks like you soaked mine,” you laughed a little, causing him to do the same.

“I’d actually prefer to use yours,” he replied and tossed you his pillow. “Smells like you.”

You took a whiff of the pillow now in your hands. “Is that the aftershave I bought you?” He nodded with a smile. “Perfect!”

You waited until Dean was on the floor of his side of the bed before you went to your side and laid down. When you put your head to the pillow, you were met with Dean’s soft smile a few feet away.

“Is this okay?” he asked, you nodded.

“I love you, Dean,” you whispered. You reached an arm out under the bed so Dean did the same, your fingers touching in the middle.

“I love you so much, Y/n.”

#spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester fic #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean

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wearywinchester · 9 months

Text

Soft Touch

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Comforting Dean might seem like a hefty task, but all he needs is you.

Requested by Anonymous: “request!! can you write something where the reader comforts dean after a bad day, it doesn’t have to be major trauma or anything just dean needing physical touch and not knowing how to ask for it and the reader making sure he’s comfortable and okay and just a bunch of fluff and comfort”

Warnings: angst, language, injury, alcohol, fluff

The bunker was fairly quiet, near completely. Sam was tucked away in his room, and if you had to guess, he was probably doing research. It’s what he’d been doing in the library for a little while, sitting there quietly with a few lore books and his laptop before he gathered his stuff with a polite goodnight and went to his room.

Sam Winchester is the only person you know that decompresses after a hunt by researching for the next.

You heard the sound of his tv when you walked by, muffled and soft. The sound of your footfalls accompanied it, a soft set of taps on the cold floor as you wandered about in search of your beau.

He hadn’t been in bed at all, his side still made. It wasn’t uncommon for him, not really, but he’d had a rough day.

It was a seven hour drive back to the bunker, and he was damn near running on fumes because he hadn’t slept well the night before. The motel bed was not doing any favors, stiff and thin enough to feel the springs dig into your muscles. The dip in the center made an uncomfortable pit, and he was just about ready to snag you and sleep in the Impala. He couldn’t sleep nearly as well without you.

He was sore from the hunt, muscles aching and begging for a bath, but he wasn’t the biggest fan of them. He’d obtained a myriad of injuries, none serious or major, but the combination was a melting pot of misery when you put them together. Not to mention the constant state of war he’s in with his own mind.

The halls still smelled like dinner, pizza and a mix of burgers, something quick and easy. None of you had the energy to do more than takeout.

You heard the quiet hum of the lights lining the hall, and your sigh upon seeing an empty library, and an empty map room. The bathroom was empty too, and the Dean cave he’d set up. There was no note on the desk by the bed, so that was an indication he was still there.

But your search wasn’t very lengthy much to your relief, a simple glance into the kitchen revealing just the one you were looking for.

His back was to you as he stood at the sink. He’d discarded his shirt after dinner, a habit he’d gotten into as of late. He got hot very easily, and it was a simple and more comfortable solution. Besides, you wouldn’t complain about that.

The muscles in his back tensed and moved as he washed the dishes in the sink, those damn hotdog pajama pants sitting on his hips.

His hair was a bit tangled and mussed, brushing against the nape of his neck and curling outward. He’d been growing it out, same for his beard, a mixture of not having as much time to handle it and wanting to try something new.

You saw a half drank glass of whiskey on the table as you passed it, the uncapped bottle sitting next to it.

He knew you were there, heard the soft pattern of your footfalls, not to mention he could sense your presence regardless of hearing you or not. But it was confirmed when you reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear.

He pulled his gaze from the plate in his hand, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Thought you’d run off for good,” you teased, your eyes meeting his.

His chuckle was soft and sweet, accompanied by a shake of his head. “Ain’t runnin’ off without taking you with me, sweetheart.”

“Well, ain’t that a relief?”

You notice the grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth, tired but surely present.

He rinses off that last plate, sticking it in the drying rack on the counter before wiping his hands dry on the tea towel draped over the sink. He turns to you, hands settling on your hips before they glide forwards, snaking themselves around your waist and tugging you closer. They were warm and calloused, the perfect combination.

You rested your hands on his chest, his skin warm and radiating to you. Your gaze shifts to the scrape on his shoulder, fading into a cut. He hadn’t tended to it, not really, nor did his mess with the one on his bicep and just above his beard on his cheekbone.

“How about we get you cleaned up, then head to bed?” You say, tipping your head back to look at him.

He took one of his hands from where it rested around you to settle by your cheek and tangle with the hair at the nape of your neck.

“You sayin’ I didn’t do a good job?” He asks, and you just barely saw the raise of his brow under the hair that fell over his forehead.

“Pretty much,” you answer with a shrug, a smile tugging at your lips at the sight of his frown and crease between his brows.

He tugged you in closer abruptly and you made a delighted noise of surprise, moving your hands from his chest to wrap up around his shoulders. His nose bumped against yours, the brush of his lips gentle before he they pressed a kiss on your own. It was lingering and sweet, borderline steamy before he parted, only to press one, two, three more to your lips.

“Trying to distract me?” You ask, furrowing your brows with a soft smile as you look at him.

He chuckles as he shakes his head, brushing your hair out of your face. “Oh sweetheart, I wouldn’t have to try to do that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to hide your smile, instead rolling your eyes as you wriggle from his arms.

“Sit down, Winchester,” you say, walking towards the cupboard.

You hear his sigh as you grab the first aid kit, freshly replenished a few days ago. You hear that sigh but when you turn around, sure enough he’s taken his seat at the kitchen table, swirling his unfinished glass of whiskey in his hand before gulping it down and pouring another.

Now it’s your turn to sigh, head shaking softly and he most definitely heard it.

You open the lid to the kit, pondering over what you wanted before it came to mind. You snagged a package of an alcohol wipe, and the small bottle of antiseptic, grabbing a small stack of gauze.

None of his injuries were severe, but it’s no good for any wound, superficial or not, to have dirt trapped in it while it tries to heal.

Anyone knew that. Anyone except Dean Winchester.

Well, it’s not that he didn’t know, he very much did. He just lacked a certain caring when it came to himself. And by lacking, he didn’t care at all. He was always that way. He cared enough to eat and bathe, to brush his teeth and at least have you brush his hair, though that was purely because he secretly not so secretly enjoys how it feels. But in actuality, he didn’t care much for himself, didn’t see a reason to.

In fact, the only reason he cared even a little bit was so he could be around to protect you and Sam, didn’t have anything to do with himself.

“No more liquor, De,” you sigh, capping the bottle and pushing it away from his reach.

You didn’t fail to notice the way he looked at you for it, brows furrowed and gaze narrowed. And you didn’t fail to notice the way those dimples formed by the corners of his mouth, barely visible through his beard but you knew with one hundred percent certainty that they were there.

That was his form of self care. A bottle of whiskey or a six pack of beer. But that was no form of caring at all, no form of soothing.

You simply lift your hand and run it over his head, caressing over his hair, your thumb brushing over his cheek softly. Your hand drops to rest under his chin, tipping his head back to drop a soft kiss to his lips, something that made your words sound not so bad to him now. So much so that he made a noise of discontent when you pulled away to tend to those wounds of his.

He didn’t care about a damn scrape or two, he wanted you.

You sigh as you tear open a couple packets of alcohol wipes, plucking one from its package and unfolding it.

You started with his arm, holding his bicep in your hand, cumbersome at best because he’d become quite muscular as of late. You noticed the slight twitch he’d made in reaction to the cold alcohol stinging the open scrape, but it’d barely shown on his face, hard for anyone but you to tell.

You cleaned away the excess dirt and blood with gentle swipes. You set down the dirtied wipe on the table, reaching for the gauze and bottle of antiseptic. You squeezed a generous amount on, returning your grip on his arm as you dabbed it directly on the scrape this time.

He may think you were being dramatic, you knew it did. It was only a few scrapes, the most superficial of injuries you can get. The equivalent of a paper cut in the world of hunting. But you were all about caring for your big, strong tough guy even if he couldn’t give a damn about any of it when it came to himself.

“You should really take better care of yourself after hunts, De,” you say, beginning to repeat the process on his shoulder.

“I ain’t gonna die from a couple of scrapes and scratches, sweetheart,” he says, as careless as ever, his tone lighthearted.

You exhale a huff, tossing the second wipe down in a more obvious show of your frustration.

“Would you want me to say that about myself?” You ask, brow raised in challenge.

“Y/n,” he said sternly.

You could tell he was angry, or the beginnings of it. His jaw was tense, along with his shoulders. You could feel it under your palm, a noticeable difference. Not to mention the look on his face alone was enough of a giveaway.

That crease between his brows never left, only deepened by your words. Those dimples were still adorning the corners of his mouth unable to be masked by the beard that framed his jaw. Nor could it hide the subtle flush in his cheeks, tinged with anger and frustration.

To him, the comparison was incomparable. So ridiculously, unbelievably able to be compared because he was not in the same bracket as you. He’ll, he’d die for you, and has. He’s sold his damn soul to a low life demon just so you would be okay, and he’d do it again in a heartbeat. He’d rather get torn to shreds by a werewolf, become some wendigo’s dinner, be made into some monsters toy than have so much as a hand laid on you.

The comparison between you and him was one he could not make. Because you were the world, a radiant being and far better than the angels he’s seen in his lifetime and he knows it for a fact. You were his world and he was simply a fleck in it. He’s always felt that way, and the whole idea has been putting a strain on him for as long as he can remember.

He always hated that you were a hunter, because dammit it scared him more than anything. He’s seen what monsters do to people, innocent lives. He’s seen what the life does to those who enter it, how it changes them, he’s one of them. He’s seen the sheer trauma it’s put you through, the agony and pain. He sees it with every case, every hunt that’s added to the endless chart.

If he thinks about it for too long, it’ll drive him insane, push him over the edge of emotion and into a fit of rage. And that, that reaction alone only adds to the self hatred he feels. To be an angry person when you’re so delicate and everything he wishes he could be. It spirals into every avenue.

He couldn’t bring himself to put caring about a scrape on himself at the same level as an injury on you. He couldn’t do it. Even so much as a paper cut on you would have him furrowing his brows. It’d need something as simple as a bandaid and he’d be sure to put it on, giving you hell if you tried to brush it off.

No matter the severity, if you were hurt in any way, shape, or form, it mattered to him.

He didn’t give a damn about himself, he gave a damn about you.

He didn’t say anything else, and you sighed, softening your glare and settling your hand on his other cheek.

You noticed the way he leaned into your touch, however, his hair falling in the direction it so pleased as he tilted his head and tipped it back, his eyes falling closed.

Dean Winchester was rough, tough and rugged. There was no denying that. He was stereotypical, and put up every front he felt he needed to. But when everything is stripped away, when it came down to it, Dean was a man of comfort. That’s really all he’s ever wanted, no matter how much he refused to say it.

But it’s a trait that’s guarded with extra security, one he tries to keep on lock down from you even, but he can’t keep that from his source of comfort. He’d be foolish to think he’d be able to keep that from you.

The subtle flush in his cheeks had accentuated his freckles, soft flecks kissing along his skin, almost comically delicate in contrast to the tough persona he puts on. Especially the way his lashes curled over top of them when his eyes were closed.

You were gentler this time if that were possible, gentler in comparison to the other two you just tended to. His skin was angry and red around the uneven scrape, some of it smudged lightly with blood and some not.

His beard felt prickly and soft all the same against your palm, the longest he’s ever let it grow. His hair fell over his eyes, glimmers of green breaking through as he opened them to look at you.

He didn’t say anything, just looked. His gaze is softer than it was moments before, looking at every detail he can soak in as if he’d never see them again. Quiet as he admired. His expression was unreadable, yet so openly blatant all the same.

You knew he’d calmed down from a couple minutes ago. You knew it with the way his hands grasped your hips and pulled you closer. You sat down on his lap, a soft sigh exhaling past your lips.

“Well, I was all done anyway,” you say, tone lighthearted and teasing as you toss what was in your hand to the side.

“Oh good,” he says, pulling you all the more closer.

He tucks you into himself as tightly as possible, and you feel how deeply he inhaled as his face settled against the crook of your neck briefly, felt his exhale against your skin.

This. This was all he ever needed. All the comfort he’d known and cared for.

His warmth was unbeatable, his skin smooth and heated as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“I could get used to this no shirt thing, you know,” you said, soft but mischievous, that smile of yours plenty proof of it.

You hear his chuckle, see that half grin of his as he looks at you with half open eyes, a chunk of hair dipped between his brows in a damn prince charming sort of way.

“Yeah?” He inquires, though he knows your answer already.

You simply respond with a nod and a soft laugh that sends a feeling of warmth through his chest like it’s the first time he’s heard it. Nearly sent over the edge when that laugh presses to his lips and dissolves into a kiss.

Damn was he ever lucky, any tension he’s carried having long since dissipated just from your mere presence.

He’d felt absolutely miserable, purely stuck below the surface of his thoughts that never fail to drown him. But in that moment, it didn’t seem to matter so much. They could be thoughts to worry about some other time.

Because right now he’s got you.

—

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#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine

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princessmisery666 · 2 months

Text

Just Don't Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean believes you have a good thing going. When you tell him your moving on, he realizes he needs to reassess the relationship and his life before it’s too late.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, miscommunication, unrequited love, friends with benefits, implied smut, Dean doesn’t get a happy ending.

W/C: 4,776.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: Just Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Alpin.

A/N: I tried to fix the angst, but it’s not happening, so the unhappy ending will remain (for now). Special shoutout to @kazsrm67 and @pink-sparkly-witch for helping and offering words/comments of encouragement.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own.

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

You knock on Jody’s door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, some residual adrenaline still playing havoc with your nerves. It’s been a long and insightful day.

Dean opens the door with a smile, but it quickly morphs into an appreciative grin as his eyes travel the length of your body. “Wow,” he says, “who knew all that was hiding under that uniform.”

You laugh, stepping through the door, not in the least bit phased by his comment. It's not the first time you’ve been told that. “Yeah, that uniform is like an invisibility cloak. I put it on, and no man sees me. Guess you're no exception,” you explain, turning to look at him again.

“Well, I see you now,” he says, quickly lifting his focus from your ass to your face. “Um, they’re through there,” he gestures for you to go ahead of him.

“There she is,” Jody says, embracing you with one arm while she places the huge bowl of salad on the table. “How’re you doing?”

“Guess I’m still a little shell-shocked, but I’m okay.”

“Well, we’re all here to help you…adjust,” Sam offers with a kind smile.

Discovering monsters are, in fact, very real and not just a Halloween marketing ploy is definitely going to be an adjustment. But what choice do you have? These people have given you an in. They’ve let you into their secret club, and honestly, you feel privileged that they trust you and think you are capable enough to help.

If you weren’t capable, neither Jody nor Dean would be here right now, a fact Sam keeps thanking you for over dinner.

“Thank you for being so cool about this,” he says again, lifting his beer bottle to clink it against yours.

“I’ll freak out later,” you joke, though you probably will.

“Seriously, you rushed in there, no hesitation, and you held your own,” Jody adds to Sam’s praise. “You certainly proved I picked the right woman for my team.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,” you say, genuinely grateful for the opportunity to work with her.

You’ve had some awful bosses and equally shitty jobs over the years, so it's nice to have found Sheriff Mills. Okay, so you’ll be fighting real-life monsters occasionally, but what’s a little compromise?

They answer all your questions, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little overwhelming. Dean keeps flashing a tight smile in your direction, and you’re not sure if it's meant to be reassuring or if he’s biting his tongue and trying not to be rude. Regardless of his intention, Jody and the boys’ promises to help you come to grips with it all make it seem manageable.

“Am I going to get to hear the story of how you met those two?” you ask Jody in the kitchen later.

“Definitely, but not tonight,” she explains, handing you a clean, soapy plate to rinse and dry.

Dean and Sam laugh in the other room, and Jody smiles wistfully. It’s so sweet and motherly it chokes you up a little.

“The years have not been kind to those boys,” she says, focusing back on the dishes. “They keep their circle small, and I’m grateful that they let me be a part of it, and now you get to join it, too.”

“It’s a damn good-looking circle,” you confess.

Jody chuckles, “Ah, so you noticed Dean as much as he noticed you.”

“Don’t go all matchmaker on me again,” you warn, “do I need to remind you of the disaster that was Paul?”

“No, you do not. I’m just making an observation. The circle is indeed good-looking, and Dean has been doing a lot of observing of his own.”

“Yeah, not sure that’s for the reasons you’re implying,” you say, “Dean doesn’t seem like he wants me to be helping out.”

Dean’s voice startles you, “You saved our asses.” You jump, twisting to look at him, “that’s enough.”

“But if I can do more…”

“The life of a hunter isn’t a life I'd recommend,” he explains, reaching for a beer from the fridge, “ it’s messy and painful and usually ends badly.”

“That’s life in general,” you counter, “and if something is happening and I don’t do anything to help, I’m part of the problem.”

“That’s fine,” he says, throwing his bottle top into the trash. “You’re a bigger part of the problem if you get into a situation you can’t get out of.”

“Dean,” Jody scolds, “take it easy. You said it yourself, she saved our asses today. She’s proven she’s capable.”

“All I’m saying is I’ll help where and if I can,” you explain. “I’m not going to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer and start patrolling graveyards.”

It’s faint, but a slight quirk tugs his lips, breaking the building tension.

“Besides, I’m sure our uniform makes us invisible to monsters as well as men.”

He laughs properly at that, “Not invisible to me anymore,” his tongue sits behind his teeth, and you're suddenly jealous when he wraps his lips around the bottle.

“Good to know,” you say.

You hold each other’s gaze, perhaps a challenge to see who will shy away first.

“Cool it, you two,” Jody warns, flicking water off the tips of her fingers at you both.

“Sorry, boss,” you laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna get going.”

“Need a ride?” Dean asks, a smug smirk in play.

“I would love one,” you wink, but follow up with, “but it’s a nice night. Think I’m gonna walk, work off some of that wine.”

“Why don’t you walk her home?” Jody suggests.

Dean nods, “lead the way.”

When you’d balked, telling Dean you didn’t need an escort, he’d countered, saying he needed the fresh air, but you think it’s more to check up on you and maybe flirt a little more without an audience if your instincts are correct. It’s been nothing but small talk since leaving Jody’s until you're standing on your porch facing one another.

“So how are you really taking all this?” he asks.

“I had a little freak out before I got to Jody’s,” you answer honestly, “but truthfully, it makes me feel a little better about the world.”

He huffs a laugh, and his confused frown is adorable. “Okay, that’s a first.”

“There’s so much evil in the world. It’s scary enough without knowing what I know now,” you explain, adding, “Maybe some of the unexplainable evil that’s all over the news is explainable. Maybe it’s not humans being horrible. Maybe it’s actually something evil.”

“Huh, I never thought of it like that.”

“I’m not saying I’ll remember that the next time a vamp is kicking my ass,” you laugh.

“Hey,” he scolds, “you agreed, no hunting.”

You hold your hands up, surrendering. “I won’t go looking for it, but if it comes to Sioux Falls, I’m all over it,” you promise, but your body has other ideas as an overall ache spreads through you as the day's events catch up with you. “Well, maybe in a few days when I’ve recovered from the last one.” Subconsciously, your tongue rolls over the cut on your bottom lip.

“That hurt?” he asks.

“I’ve had worse.” You shrug. The way he’s looking at you dulls the sting of the cut, and the tired ache in your bones shifts and reshapes into a simmering itch that needs scratching.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, pointing over your shoulder toward your door. The implication of you being alone goes unsaid.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, trying not to roll your eyes. “But maybe you want to come in? Have a coffee or something, distract me a little longer so I don’t freak out too much?”

He smiles, wetting his lips. He knows that’s not what you're asking, and you wonder how often the offer of ‘coffee or something’ has been used successfully on him. He looks down at his shuffling feet, heaving a sigh. “I should get back.”

The hesitation is clear, yet he doesn’t move. A surge of adrenaline spreads through you, and your heart rate increases. When he looks up, catching your eyes, the intensity of the long, loaded pause is enough to make you wonder, if monsters exist, then maybe that electricity everyone talks about is real, too, because it feels like if you touch your hand to Dean’s face, sparks will fly.

“Thanks again for the save today,” he whispers.

“Anytime,” you smile.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you're as one, mouths connected, exploring the other’s, hands groping and gripping, and your lip stings for a split second, but then Dean has you pinned against your door, and you forget about it.

He pulls away and kisses your neck, “Maybe,” he says, scraping his teeth against your jaw, “we should take this inside.”

Your arrangement with Dean works. No pressure, no expectations. Summer comes, and winter fades, but your relationship remains mutually beneficial.

He rolls through Sioux Falls, that charming smile - that you’re not sure he knows quite how charming it is - “passing through,” but he stays a few days. He always claims it’s to catch up with Jody and the girls, but he spends most of his time at your place, and it’s too coincidental that you’re never on shift or scheduled for a few days when Baby pulls up outside.

Jody insists she has nothing to do with it. Yes, she's the sheriff, yes, she’s your boss, and makes the rotas, but “The only thing I swing is that I get to work with you,” she’d promised, winking. And you love her for that. Some of the men are still stuck in the past, and though they don’t say it, you can tell they don’t think women can do the job.

If only they knew. You’ve helped on a few hunts now. There’s no doubt in your mind that your relationship with Dean wouldn’t be what it is if you didn’t know about the real evils of the world. But each hunt ended the same: a dead monster and your body beneath Dean’s.

You're in your room lacing up your little white summer pumps when the Impala’s engine announces his arrival.

You jump to your feet, quickly check yourself in your mirror, smoothing down the already smooth summer dress, and call out, “It’s open,” when his knock echoes around the house.

“Wow, look at you,” he says, freezing partway over the threshold to admire you as you bounce down the stairs.

You deliver your usual greeting, a swift kiss to his lips, and the unmistakable aroma of leather and cheap motel soap assaults your senses - damn, you’ve missed him - but you won’t say it. Instead, you show it, making the kiss deeper.

He shuffles inside, uses your hips to steady himself as he kicks the door closed, and then wraps his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against him.

Your phone rings, and you fumble to find it on the table by the door, but as soon as you do, Dean releases you, kissing your neck and collarbone.

“Hey, hi,” you answer.

“Hey babe,” your best friend sings, and you know it's because she needs something. “Can you grab some ice on your way over?”

“Yeah, sure, okay.”

“You okay?”

No. Yes.

Dean is kneading your breasts, nibbling on the skin that spills out the top of your sundress. “Yeah, just rushing, I’m running late.”

“So late,” he mumbles into your skin.

“Well, hurry more,” she says before hanging up.

“Oh fuck, Dean, you gotta stop,” you whine.

He groans, dulling the sting of his bite with a sweet kiss, and pulls back to look at you. “This a bad time, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling as disappointed as he looks. “It’s my friend's birthday. She’s having a barbeque.”

He sighs, leaning his head on your shoulder and mumbling into your neck. “Damn it.”

“I have to at least show my face,” you say, using your hands on his cheeks to pull his head up to look into his eyes. “But you can stay here, take a shower, watch a movie or something, and maybe in a couple of hours, I get a headache and need to come home.”

Wetting his lips, he smirks before delivering a brief kiss. “Or,” he draws out the syllable, mild hesitation clear in his eyes, “Maybe I can come with you?”

Since Chuck is no longer an issue, Dean has been making an effort to live in the moment, opening himself up, if only a little. So you try to quell the shock of his suggestion. It quickly evolves to a pleased grin when your mind flashes to your friends' faces when you walk in with the infamous Dean. They will lose their shit. You like spending time with Dean but don’t want to cross any lines or make assumptions. “I’d like that,” you smile, “but you really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure I can survive a couple hours with your friends, and you know I can always eat.”

“Okay,” you nod, smile widening. “If you’re sure.”

He kisses you again, a simple but effective peck on your lips. “But maybe we both get a headache in a couple of hours.”

“Deal,” you agree, sealing it with another casual kiss. “Maybe lose a few layers. It’s summer.”

He laughs, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m sure I have a clean Fed shirt in the trunk.”

“Perfect,” you say, grabbing your bag and keys. “Want me to drive?”

He rolls his eyes, jesting, “Did that kiss fry your brain?” as he follows you out the front door.

He opens the passenger door for you, and before you slip inside, you tell him, “Oh, and whatever my friends say I’ve said about you, it’s all lies.”

He grins smugly, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

The shower has done wonders for your developing hangover. Your friend's barbecue lasted longer than you had anticipated, but the day couldn’t have gone better.

Dean fit in well with everyone and crushed it at beer pong. It was a success all around, and when you’d quietly asked if he wanted to leave, he’d said no, that he was having too much fun.

The fun continued when you got home, and Dean is undoubtedly still feeling the effects as well. It’s almost midday, and he’s still sound asleep in your bed when you enter your bedroom in clean sweats and your bra while you towel dry your hair.

Dean is lying on his stomach, with his face smushed adorably against the pillow he’s hugging, taking advantage of all the space now that you’ve vacated.

You crawl across the bed, leaning over him, and he still doesn’t stir. You put your lips close to his ear and half whisper, “Morning.”

His brow instantly creases, and he squeezes his eyes tighter, groaning, “No, no, you have to go away.”

“You gotta get up. It’s almost midday.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “You have to take your horrible talking, talky mouth away from me.”

“Okay, you asked for it.” You laugh, sitting back and wringing your hair out so the excess water drips on his naked back.

“Ah,” he groans, arching up off the mattress.

You jump off the bed, laughing as you walk to the mirror to start doing your hair. Turning over, he rubs a hand over his face and then both through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably. He catches you staring in the mirror, and you quickly avert your eyes.

“Damn, your friends can drink,” he says, sitting up against the headboard.

You laugh, that’s an understatement. “They definitely know how to have fun.”

“They seem like a good bunch.”

“They liked you too,” you smile at his reflection, and he grins back. “Laura told me to invite you to her and Chris’ wedding.”

His expression shifts, staring off into the distance for a singular moment as if he’s imagining how that would play out. But as quickly as it appears, it drops when he scrubs a hand down his face to put the mask back on. “That’s cool, but I can’t make that kind of commitment.” He swings his legs off the bed, putting his back to you. “I don’t know where I’ll be.”

You hadn’t expected a solid answer, but the double meaning behind his words settles thick disappointment in your stomach. You’ve never asked for any commitment nor discussed the arrangement between you, but hearing him say it aloud singes the hope you always try to contain.

Dean quickly gets to his feet, swaying at the abruptness. “I’m gonna grab a shower.” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he heads to the bathroom.

It’s been less than ten minutes, and you’re sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through your phone, when he finds the courage to face you again. He’s talking to Sam on his phone, obnoxiously loud, as he descends the stairs, trying to make a point of his hasty need to depart.

He appears in the kitchen doorway, jacket in hand, hair dripping onto the shoulders of his henley. You guess you should be grateful he wasn’t cowardly enough to have just shouted goodbye from the door.

“Listen, I’m sorry about before.” He moves closer to the table, eyeing you as he raps his knuckles on the polished wood. “It’s just that, even with Chuck out of the picture, I’m not sure how things are going to play out. I can’t make any, uh, long-term commitments. Sam and-“

“I get it, Dean.” The last thing you want is any tension between you, so you nip the growing uncomfortableness. “We don’t need to have any awkward conversations.”

He bobs his head, hope swimming in his eyes. “So, we’re good?”

You take your mug to the sink, and once your back is to him, you say, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“You sure?” You didn’t hear him move, but the air shifts behind you, bringing his warmth along with it.

Plastering on a smile, you turn to face him and nod. “Take care of yourself.”

The corner of his mouth curls upward, and he kisses your forehead before heading to the door, “Talk to you soon,” he calls before the door clicks shut.

Fools rush in. Dean is no fool. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like being one sometimes. Usually, it’s when he’s on the road, heading home from a hunt or supply run, he daydreams about how things could be with you.

The daydream isn’t much different from how things already are. The sex would just be coupled with more official dates – dinner, movies, watching him, which for some reason turns you on, ‘do his thing’ as you call it when he’s hustling suckers at pool. Hell, even grocery shopping. He’d sneak unhealthy snacks into the cart because you promised Sam you’d take care of him, and you would. Dean knows you’d be good to him, that you are good for him. But he’s lived that life. He doesn’t need a wake-up call to know how it ends.

It’s a nice daydream. It gives him a much-needed boost of serotonin when he’s in short supply. But like the gas that fuels Baby, the thought has vaporized by the time he shuts off the engine.

Chuck isn’t calling the shots anymore, but that doesn’t mean the big bads aren’t still gunning for the Winchester's demise. Sam has it all figured out with Eileen, and Dean wishes he could be as sure about what he wants life to look like now. But he can’t be sure of anything, at least not yet. He’s still working on adjusting to a life not consumed by hunting. Trying to come to terms with the fact that there isn’t something lurking around every corner, that the choices he makes – good and bad – are truly his and not fueled by some life-ending curveball Chuck tosses at them.

The doubts bore deeper, and as always, when he’s drowning in his own head, he thinks of you.

He remembers how you busted down the door with borrowed equipment from Sioux Falls. You’d looked frantic but still in control. Your mere presence had calmed him, and not because you were there to rescue him. You didn’t waste a breath with a witty comment like he would have. You let off two shots, dropped the ghoul about to take a chunk out of him, and then untied him.

You’d been cool and calm, checked him for injuries, but didn’t believe he was truly okay till he kissed you breathless. That adrenaline-filled, kiss-swollen lips, slightly frantic edge to your eyes, is the picture he conjures whenever he thinks of you.

It’s been a while since he’s seen you. You’ve exchanged a few calls, but now that his mind is stuck on that picture of you, he has to see you.

He shoots Sam a text, telling him he’ll be in Sioux Falls if Sam needs anything, and then pulls an illegal u-turn to put himself in your direction.

Dean’s not phased that you aren’t home when he shows up. It’s not like he called ahead. He never does. But now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to waste time tracking you down, so he calls.

“Hey,” you greet brightly.

The smile in your voice brings out his. “Hey, yourself. I’m at your door.”

“Shit, sorry, I’m not there.”

He chuckles, “Are you around, or does my timing suck again?”

“No, no, it’s kinda perfect, actually,” you say. “I was gonna call you later anyway. But I need a half hour or so.”

“I can wait.”

“Greasy Sal’s?” you offer.

He smiles, already salivating at the thought of a Greasy Sal’s cheeseburger. “Throw in some curly fries,” he requests.

“Okay, got it,” You laugh.

Dean sits on the Impala’s hood while he waits, head tilted toward the sun, eyes closed while he catches the day’s last rays. The sound of your car’s engine isn’t as distinct as Baby’s, but he knows it well enough that as soon as he hears it, he opens his eyes and watches you turn onto the street. It’s not until that moment that he realizes how eager he is to see you. Maybe Greasy Sal’s can wait; he has another hunger he needs to sate.

He waits till you shut off the engine to open your door, “such a gentleman,” you quip, taking his offered hand to step onto the sidewalk. “Or are you clambering for food?”

“Not what I’m hungry for,” he says, guiding you against your car. He presses himself against you, feeling the coolness of the air conditioning on your clothes. He circles the tip of your nose with his own, whispering, “Hey,” against your lips before claiming them as his own.

Frustratingly, you push a hand into his chest after the first brush of his tongue, and he pulls back to look at you. You're looking up at him from under hooded eyes, and he feels like his heart skips a beat, or maybe he’s just a little out of breath. But he knows that with you gazing up at him like he’s a beautiful sunset, he really has missed you.

“Maybe we should take this inside.”

“Absolutely,” he says, slightly impatient that he can’t get you naked then and there.

He walks to the trunk to get your shopping bags and follows you up the path. He has a bag packed with his essentials but never brings it inside until the next morning. Something about bringing it in before you’ve had sex seems presumptuous, which is crazy because, as per the arrangement, that’s exactly what he’s here for.

“It’s good to see you,” you say, entering your kitchen with him close on your tail.

“Yeah, you too.” He genuinely means it. It’s like things fall into place when he’s around you.

“How’s Sam?”

“He’s good,” Dean explains, placing the grocery bags on the countertop. “He’s taken Eileen away for a couple days.”

“Good for them.”

You unpack the groceries and take a beer from the fridge; as always, it's his favorite brand. Though he never warns you of his pending arrival there is always a supply cooling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks in the cupboards.

He takes the open bottle from you, leaning in to deliver another kiss, but you turn to grab more groceries, and he realizes it's a not-so-stealthy way to give him your cheek.

It seems to be the day of revelations because he’s super aware of how easily you flow around each other in the small kitchen. Dean plates up the burgers, grabbing another beer for you from the fridge, and he’s surprised to see that it’s the only one left. That, coupled with the kiss avoidance, gives him pause. Something’s wrong.

You sit at the table and take a large gulp of the beer. “You okay?” he asks once you’ve swallowed the beer and the nervousness you're exuding. “You seem a little…off.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, then inhale deeply before adding, “Actually, no, I’m not. We need to talk. And I hate how cliche that sounds, but I don’t know how else to bring it up, and I don’t want to get all emotional on you, but I need to tell you something.”

He feels the panic fizz in his gut. You can’t be pregnant. He's seen you take birth control, and he uses protection every time. So it can only be one thing …you're about to ruin everything.

You're going to utter those three words, and it's going to be the death blow to all the good stuff between you.

He takes a swig of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Please don’t,” he begs, looking you dead square in the eyes. “What we’ve got going on is good, we’re good…”

“Dean, I …” you try, but he holds a hand up to cut you off.

“Don’t say it.” he pushes his chair back and rubs his hands on his thighs, palms suddenly sweaty. “I like what we have. It works, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it or that I don’t miss you. But I just got back a little peace of mind and…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “caring about someone…” he shakes his head, reaching to wrap his hand around his beer bottle. “...Loving me, even with Chuck gone, it doesn’t make it any less of a death sentence. So please don’t say it.”

You reach across the table for his hand, clenched around his beer, but he’s quick to pull back. “Dean,” you choke out, the remorse you feel slipping from your eyes in a single tear. “I’ve met someone.”

He stares at you, mouth agape, not sure that he heard you correctly.

“It’s still new,” you continue, rushing to explain as your tears spill. “But it’s going somewhere. Somewhere great, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

Of course, you haven’t been sitting at home waiting for his sporadic visits. You’ve been out living your life as you should be. The possibility of meeting someone else, someone you could say those three words to, and it be a life sentence and not a death sentence, had occurred to him more than once. It poked at him like a swarming gnat, knowing you deserved to find someone better than him, but selfishly, he swatted at it until it went away.

He’s holding his breath and will get light-headed soon if he doesn’t find the ability to breathe again.

“Dean,” you coax, “say something.”

He feels as if you’d blindsided him, come out of the left field, and taken his legs out from under him. Now he’s on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and waiting for the feeling in his limbs to return.

Abruptly he stands. He sees the panic in your eyes and knows what’s coming. As you plead, “Don’t leave,” he says, “I gotta go.”

He strides quickly toward the door. You call his name as he goes, but he doesn’t stop.

He rushes out your front door, leaves it open, and as he reaches Baby, he has a singular moment of wondering what will hurt the least - holding on or letting go.

“Dean, please,” you call from the door.

He slides behind the wheel, deciding to let go.

Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.

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Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #reader insert #female reader #dean winchester angst #spn fanfic #angst #spn fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fandom #dean winchester x you #you x dean winchester

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octoberclidan · 2 months

Text

Needing You

Request: With absolutely no pressure, could I request some comfort for our sweet (and vulnerable) Dean? Something very soft and gentle? 💚

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Masterlist

Story:

Dean didn't wait for either Sam or [Y/N]. As soon as he'd turned off the engine, he was out of the car and marching towards their motel room. He didn't take his bag, he didn't look at either of them, he didn't say anything, he just left. Everything that could've gone wrong on the hunt, had gone wrong. Nothing about their day had gone well. It had been a cold, dark, rainy day since the moment they'd woken up. Dean had been captured by a witch, his absolute least favourite thing to hunt, and it had taken Sam and [Y/N] all day to find him. While he'd been magically held against a wall in the witch's home, he watched two of her victims die. He couldn't physically do anything, and there was nothing he could say to stop her. He was to be her third victim, but right before she cut his neck, Sam had burst into the room and the witch disappeared. Dean had fallen to the ground, and had pushed both Sam and [Y/N] away when they tried to help him up.

[Y/N]'s view of Dean marching to their motel room was obscured by the raindrops rolling down the car's window. She hadn't tried to talk to him the entire ride back; she knew better after Dean had snapped at Sam just for clearing his throat. She sighed, and was about to open her door when Sam turned around in his seat to look at her. "He'll be okay. He'll punch something, get drunk, and sleep it off. We'll be back on the hunt in the morning". He cringed slightly when he heard the door to their room slam. "I think we should probably see about getting a second room and giving him some space tonight".

"Do you think he'll be okay on his own? I've seen him beating himself up after hunts before, but I've never seen him like this", she said. [Y/N] had a deep level of concern and care for Dean. She loved both Winchesters, she'd do anything for either of them, and she hated seeing them upset. Sam sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"He won't let himself lose control, we still have to find the witch. He'll be good by the morning". He finally opened his door, the wind blowing some rain into the car. "Wait here until I get us a room, I'll be back in a few minutes". [Y/N] watched as he pulled his jacket up over his head and quickly got out of the car, closing his door behind him and jogging over to the motel's reception. She felt a bit uneasy leaving Dean alone when he was probably in there breaking something and hating himself, but she knew that no one knew him and what he needed better than Sam.

The door to the reception opened and it caught her eyes, she saw Sam jogging back to the car. She grabbed her bag from beside her as Sam opened up the trunk to grab his own, and they quickly ran through the parking lot to get to their new room, which happened to be the one right next to Dean's. Sam opened the door and ushered [Y/N] inside, and she shivered as droplets of rain water fell from her hair. "You wanna take the first shower?" Sam asked as he put his bag down on the desk beside the window, and [Y/N] nodded.

"Yeah, I'll make it quick", she said and made her way into the bathroom, taking her bag with her. The water wasn't exactly hot, but it did warm her up a little bit. She couldn't keep her thoughts from wondering to Dean, thinking about what must be going through his head and what he was up to in the other room. She began to grow even more worried as she turned off the shower and started to pull on the old comfortable clothes she kept for sleeping in; one of Dean's old band t-shirts, and some very well worn sweatpants. What if he decided to go to a bar? Dean had no issues with driving after drinking on an ordinary day, but what if he tried to drive home after drinking too much in the dark and rain?

Once she was dressed, she opened the bathroom door. Sam was sitting on one of the beds and looked up at her as she walked out. "Shower's all yours, just a warning though, the water's not hot", she said as she made her way over to the other bed.

"Noted", Sam sighed as he pushed himself off the bed to go get his clothes and toiletries. "Are you okay?" He asked before he went in.

"Yeah, just worried I guess", she shrugged. He nodded in understanding as he closed the bathroom door behind him. She heard the shower turn on, and she decided to pull out her journal to make notes on the hunt. She'd only just sat down on a bed and opened her journal when she heard a crash behind her head, and she spun around on the bed to look at the wall behind her. A few seconds later, and there was a bang on the wall, shaking it along with her bed frame. Dean. Without stopping to think, she tossed her journal down beside her and shot out of bed. She scribbled down a quick note for Sam on a little post-it that was on the desk, and headed straight out of the room.

Although the corridor outside the room had a cover over it, the floor was still wet from the rain being blown onto it from the wind. The wind and rain hit her immediately and she ran to the next door, banging on it and hoping Dean wouldn't take too long to let her in, hoping he hadn't injured himself, hoping he could let her in. When ten seconds went by without any answer, she banged on the door again. "Damnit Dean, let me in! I'm getting soaked out here!" She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her bare arms as she stood there being attacked by the weather, her clothes having no waterproof capabilities.

The door opened slightly and she looked up to find a red-eyed Dean. He looked her up and down before sighing and opening the door wide enough to let her in. She slipped inside and kept her arms around herself as she waited for him to close the door and turn to face her. "What are you doing in here?" He mumbled as he kept his head down and walked past her to his bed. He sat down on the edge of it, and she noticed that his knuckles were bloody as he held his hands on his lap.

"Will you let me look at those?" She asked, walking over to him. He pulled his hands back as she reached down for them, but she insisted. He didn't put up a fight as she held his hands in hers and lifted them up to look at them. "I'm going to clean them and wrap them".

"They're fine".

"Dean", she sighed. "They're not fine, and you're not fine either. You can talk about it with me if you want to, or you can sit there in silence, but either way, I'm taking care of these hands". She gently squeezed them before placing them back in his lap. She looked around the room before remembering that Dean hadn't taken his bag in from the car. "Just... wait here, don't move, I'll be back in less than a minute". He didn't say anything and he didn't look up at her as she quickly left the room.

She ran through the rain back to the other room and let herself in to find Sam sitting on his bed reading through a book. "How is he?" He asked, leaning forward with his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"He's Dean", she sighed, looking through her bag for her first aid kit.

"You gonna bring a coat this time?" He asked as she went to open the door again. She paused and nodded.

"Good idea", she chuckled as she grabbed her jacket, holding it over her head. "I'm not sure when I'll be back... if I can get him to open up maybe I'll just stay with him, are you good here?"

"Good luck, yeah I'm fine, just let me know if you need anything", he smiled at her. He knew Dean was in safe hands with [Y/N]. Although he knew Dean better than anyone, he also knew that if anyone could get him to open up and hate himself a little less, it would be her.

Dean was waiting for [Y/N] this time with the door open, not wanting her to stand out in the rain any longer than needed. She smiled at him in thanks as he held the door open for her, and he caught himself smiling back. He could feel his anger start to dissipate, and he cursed her in his mind for having that effect on him. He felt like he deserved to feel bad, he felt like he didn't deserve to be smiling. "Okay, sit on the bed so I can clean those hands up", she said as she grabbed a chair.

"I can do it myself".

"No you can't, I've seen you doing it yourself and you're shit at it, now sit", she placed the first aid kit down on the bed and put her hands on her hips, waiting for him to shake his head and follow her instructions like he always ended up doing. He sat down and she pulled the chair closer so she could sit opposite him, their knees touching. She grabbed one of his hands and pulled out an antiseptic wipe to start to clean it. He hissed at the initial sting, but it soon went away. She held his hand in one hand, stroking her thumb up and down soothingly, while she wiped his knuckles with her other. She lifted his hand closer to her face to inspect it, and then threw the wipe away and took out some gauze.

"It's not bad enough to need that stuff", Dean protested, but one glare from her and he stopped, letting her gently wrap his hand. She placed it on his lap as he took his other hand, which wasn't as bad, but he knew she'd insist on wrapping it too anyway. He looked into her face as she worked on his second hand, noticing how she stuck her tongue out slightly between her teeth in concentration. He'd never known anyone so beautiful, inside and out, and he didn't know how he was lucky enough to have her as a constant in his life.

"There, all done", she smiled as she let go of his hand and packed away her supplies. When she looked back at Dean, he was looking down at his hands, and a tear fell from his eye to darken a little spot on his bandage. "Hey, what's going on inside that head of yours?" She asked, gently covering his hand with hers. He shook his head and sniffed, looking away from her. "Come on, talk to me, I'm right here", she lifted her hand to touch his cheek, slowly turning his face back to her.

"I was useless today", he said.

"Dean-", she sighed but he cut her off and took his hand back from her, standing up abruptly and forcing her back a little so he could walk away. She stared at him as he started to pace up and down the room. "Dean-", she tried again, but he stopped and glared at her through teary eyes.

"Don't 'Dean' me, okay? I fucked up. I let my guard down, got caught by a fucking witch and watched two people die, knowing I couldn't do shit but wait to be rescued. I'm supposed to save people, I'm not supposed to need saving".

"Dean, how many times have you saved me? Or Sam? Does that make either of us less of a hunter? Does that make either of useless?"

"No, but it's different".

"How exactly is it different? Why can't Dean Winchester need saving sometimes? You're not invincible Dean, you're human. Shit happens. Sometimes everyone needs a little saving. Sometimes you can't save everyone, no matter how good you are". She stood up and walked over to him, looking up at him. He turned his face away from her, but she reached up tentatively to put her hand on his cheek. He didn't resist when she turned his face to look down at her, and once he looked into her eyes, he broke. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, burying his face in her neck as he started to cry quietly. She wrapped her arms around his waist and stood there in his embrace, letting him get his emotions out. She was almost afraid to make any movement or say anything, in case it pulled him out of his vulnerability, but after a few minutes she leaned back slightly and looked up at him.

He blinked through his tears and sniffed, then frowned at her. "You're damp", he mumbled, and she couldn't help but laugh quietly.

"Yeah, it's raining".

"I'm sorry".

"For what?" She asked, rubbing his back gently.

"Being like this", he shrugged, "crying and punching things and..." He shook his head as if trying to get rid of his train of thought.

"And what?" She prompted him, tilting her head in curiosity. He paused in contemplation for a moment, glancing between her eyes, feeling comfort when all he saw was sincerity looking back at him. His hands fell to her waist and he held her firmly, pulling her back in closer to his chest.

"And needing you".

He was finally opening up to her, and she sighed in relief, knowing this meant he'd be okay. "I will always be here for you, Dean", she said.

"Is it okay?" He asked, looking down at her, his face suddenly full of worry. "Is it okay that I need you?"

"Dean", she said, moving her hands up to cup his cheeks, her thumbs wiping his tears away. "We all need each other. Sam and I need you, just like you and I need Sam".

"Like Sam and I need you", he nodded, and his hands left her waist to hold her arms, gently squeezing them as if to confirm to himself that she was real, and that she was standing in front of him in that moment. "You're shivering", he noted, "I'll get you some dry clothes". He pulled away from her and went to his bag, routing around and pulling out one of his clean flannels and a pair of sweatpants and handing them to her. "Can you... I mean", he cleared his throat nervously. "If you want to, you can stay in this room tonight. I don't think you should go back out into the rain".

"Is it okay with you if I stay here?" She smiled back at him.

"Yes", he said quickly. "I need you tonight... just uh, you make me feel calm, it's like I struggle to feel angry around you", he chuckled softly.

"You have a similar effect on me".

"Really?"

"Dean, your hugs make everything better".

"Come here", he reached his arm out to her and she put the clothes down onto the bed before going to him and being engulfed in his arms again. He held her tightly this time and she smiled as he kissed the top of her head. "You're still damp", he chuckled, and she felt the vibrations from his chest on the side of her face.

"I don't care", she squeezed him back and closed her eyes, hoping they'd somehow end up sharing a bed so she could stay in his arms for the night. She knew he was going to be okay, and that's all she needed in that moment.

The end

Dean Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @k-slla @lyarr24 @candy-coated-misery0731 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @itburnslikehelltobevega @queenie32 @livingdead-reilly @vmaier12 @littlemadamred @darthysfanfic @dramatic-long-coats

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deanscherrypie69 · 2 months

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Did it mean something? D.W𖧷

♡Dean Winchester X Female Reader♡

♡Warnings: Mentions of kissing, and language no use of Y/n. 18+ pls minors DNI!!!!!♡ please do not post my fics anywhere else expect tumblr, you have been warned!

♡Feedback is appreciated! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!!!!♡

♡Depending how this does I’ll post a part two!♡

♡My inbox is open for anything! (It will be open for requests soon!)♡

It had been a few days after Sam went to hell. Dean had lost his brother and you had lost your best friend that day. It was hard on you both. You didn't talk about it.

You both had been pushing your feelings down, about the whole situation, too scared to open up. Since Sam had been gone you and Dean had been hunting nonstop. It had been an easier way to cope with everything. Just pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't.

You And Dean had just finished vamp hunt and he offered to get food for you both.

After the hunt It had been raining like cats and dogs, you had been stuck in the hotel room trying to get a signal on the tv. "Come on!" You scream hitting the sides of the tv, it had been going out since the storm started, you sigh and run you hand across your face, when you were met with black and white static.

"Piece of shit-" You mutter kicking the bottom of the tv stand. You huff and sit on the edge of one of the motel beds.

You and Dean had been laying low for the past couple of days. You didn't hear from Bobby nor cas. You flop back onto the bed with a groan.

That was until the motel door swung open causing you to look over.

"Still nothing?" Dean questions throwing a white fastfood bag onto the little table in the kitchen.

"Nope." You say still looking at the ceiling.

You hear shuffling for a second, then you see the green eyed hunter standing over you with something wrapped in tinfoil. "Eat." He says placing it next to you.

You quickly sit up and grab the burger. You watch as Dean sits on the bed opposite bed across from you, he begins to unwrap the burger he had gotten both of you.

You watch as he bites into it, but you also noticed his wet hair. You watch him take two bites before looking in your direction.

Dean stops chewing the food in his mouth, "What?" He questions when he catches you stare at him.

"Nothing." You say.

Dean mumbles an 'ok' and continues to eat.

For some guy who had lost his brother he seems to be doing just fine. You get up from the bed, and walk into the kitchen, pulling out the chair you pull back the motel curtain, you stare out the window and watch the rain fall.

You missed Sam, he was your besfriend - besides Dean you thought, you and Dean were never really close it upset you, he never really talked to you about anything besides Sam. When you entered the room he'd go quite.

You never understood why.

You had been staring out the window for too long to notice the green eyed hunter sitting across from you.

"You really should eat."

His voice rumbles through your body. "I'm good." You say looking from the window and to the man that had been sitting across from you for god knows how long.

Dean sighs and leans back in the chair.

"You okay Dean?" You Hum crossing your arms over your chest.

"As good as i can be." He huffs through his nose, "I could ask you the same thing, I know loosing your bestfriend is hard." He says.

You roll your eyes, "He's your brother Dean."

Dean leans forward on the table his arms resting against the table. He nods his head, "We'll get him back." Dean says taking a deep breath, "We always do." He gets up from the table tapping his knuckles against the wood.

You notice the bruises that sit upon his knuckles, they were purple. He had gotten them trying to fight of a vampire, to save you.

"Sorry about that." You swallow, your eyes still focused on the purple.

Dean follows your gaze.

"Its nothing, happens." He says walking over to the fridge, he opens it pulling out two beers. He holds one up, He knew you weren't very much of a drinker. You hated beer. But why the hell not, right?

You get up from your chair and make your way over to Dean where he was leaning against the counter. He flicks the bottle top off and plops it in the sink behind him.

You copy his motion, you step beside him and plop the top into the sink.

You bring the bottle up to your lips, the bitter liquid runs down your throat. pullinging the bottle away, you notice Dean's eyes on yours.

"What?" You hiccup.

"Nothing," He says bringing the glass bottle up to his lips.

You begin to fidgit with the bottle, you were still facing the sink, staring down at the two bottle tops in the sink. "Do you ever think about it?" You hum.

Dean turns his head in confusion, "Think about..? he questions, you noticed the confusion in his voice.

You take a deep breath, "Getting out, hunting. And living a normal life."

Dean stares down at his bottle, "All the time." Dean sighs.

He had called one of his lovers, Lisa hoping to rekindle something with her now that Sam was gone, she said yes. Dean was supposed to leave by morning.

But Dean didn't know if he wanted too, it would leave you alone and he knew that you were counting on him to be there.

You sigh.

You could see Dean shifing in his spot. What was he thinking about you wonder?

You place the beer bottle down on the counter, making your way over to the bed. The staic looking on the tv fills your ears.

"Do you think about it?" Dean asks putting his bottle next to yours. He strieds over to the bed and sits next to you.

Talking a shaky breath, you turn to face the green eyed man. "No." Dean watches you fiddle with your fingers, as he waits for you to contiue, "I never saw myself settling down, or getting out of this life, it's not for me. This is my life. There's no changing that."

Dean nods at your words.

You look up to find the man looking at you. His eyes searching your face, going back and forth between your eyes and lips.

It all happened to fast, Dean's lips on yours you his on his shirt, urging him to take it off.

This was wrong, you thought. You never felt this way about him. He was so mysterious, he never let you in on anything that happened to him, it was always Sam filling you in.

You both could barely be in a room together without one of you leaving because of the awkwardness.

But maybe it was Dean putting up a guard to try and protect you. He knew you didn't belong in this life, hunting and killing things. It just wasn't right for you.

You're different you aren't like him or Sam. And that's what Dean liked.

You were bought out of your thoughts when Dean nipped your ear causing you to squeal. "everything okay?" Dean questions looking up. You were straddling him.

His lips were pink and swollen from the kissing.

You quickly nod and grab his face, pressing your lips against his.

- - You had been woken up by a pounding on the door, you shoot up out of the bed, your eyes still trying to adjust from the light that was coming through the window.

You quickly pull the covers from your body, cold air hits your skin, you were naked. "Shit." You mumble, the pouding on the door didn't stop.

You looking over on the side of your bed where you were hoping to find Dean but he was gone. A bad feeling washed over you when you slide you t-shirt over your head.

You smelt him everywhere. In your skin in your hair. He was everywhere but no where all at once.

Putting the last leg into your jean's you fling open the door.

You were met with an old lady and a cleaning cart, "Room service!" She smiles, squeezing past you with her cart. You close the door behind you.

You quickly rush over to the bathrrom, maybe he'd just been in there, but you were met with a dark room. His duffle bag was gone. You swallow hard.

You walk back into the kitchen to find the beer bottles still sitting on the counter. Everything was gone, he was gone.

Tears form in your eyes. You grab your socks and shoes, and your coat that had been on the back of the chair in the kitchen chair.

You do a quick run through of the room to make sure you weren't missing anything.

Turing your head over your shoulder you had noticed the tv wasn't static anymore, an episode of 'Dr sexy' Was playing on the screen.

The cleaning lady had made her way over to the kitchen area, throwing away the bottles you and Dean had drank out of earlier.

You sigh and fish the hotel key out of your pocket before setting it down on the table.

You shut the door of the motel behind you, you fish out your phone and scroll through your contacts.

You click on the name before letting it ring a few times.

"Hey Bobby, care to give a girl a lift?"

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x you #dean winchester fic #supernatural dean #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester comfort #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fic #spn one shot #spn fanfic

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alexsoenomel · 1 year

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Play That Zeppelin Tune (Dean Winchester x Reader smut)

Request: Can I request road head with Dean? I feel like this is a PERFECT concept for him, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one! 🙏🏼

Summary: You and Dean had a deal - no strings attached. But you both knew that wouldn’t last long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI ,road head and vanilla sex in the Impala

Led Zeppelin songs mentioned in the fic: Ramble On , Since I’ve Been Lovin’ You and I Can’t Quit You Baby

Word count: 3k

Note: This was so fun to write. I’m really happy how it turned out. Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

And a huge thank you to my wonderful beautiful best friend @ambergoddess444 for helping me edit the fic and being my QUEEEEEEN! <3

Driving into the evening twilight, not a care in the world, you were happy. It was chilly that day, spring was lingering in the air but was still too shy to show its face. The car was purring smoothly, while the trees around you were just one long colorful stain in your peripheral vision. The road was smooth, with few bumps here and there but still smooth nonetheless.

Leather jackets clung perfectly to your bodies as the wind played with your hair. You both decided it was cold, but not cold enough to keep the windows closed.

After Night Moves by Bob Seger ended, silence entered the car before Dean eventually asked you:

"Zepps or AC/DC?”

“Stupid question, Zepps.” You answered.

***

You and Dean shared a special and profound bond over music. You also shared the same temperament and would constantly argue over who was the greatest guitarist, vocalist, etc of all time.

“It’s Page!” Dean said one Sunday morning while stuffing his face with bacon.

“Dean I know Led Zeppelin is your favorite band and I GET IT, but -”

“Not buts, Page is the greatest guitar player of all time you cannot convince me otherwise.” He said cutting your train of thought.

“You’re impossible!” You said in frustration as you took a slice of your Maple pancakes.

Sam sat in silence that day and watched the two of you bicker with a smile on his face while sipping his morning coffee.

“I’m awesome!” Dean said proudly.

“Ritchie Blackmore exists, Dean!”

“Yeah, and he’s good, but Jimmy is Jimmy!”

“You obviously have never listened to Stargazer.”

“Oh I have but nothing beats Jimmy’s solo in Stairway to Heaven!” And that was where this whole argument died.

You rolled your eyes and didn’t say anything – there was no point in saying anything since he would just repeat himself.

***

"Which song?" Dean asked.

"Surprise me!"

As he inserted the cassette tape, the familiar tune of Ramble On blasted from the speakers of his beloved car. That was one of your favorite songs, it brought back so many memories, innocent bitter-sweet ones, from childhood. Your dad liked to play that song whenever you would go on a road trip. (Aka on a hunting trip, but as a child, you were only shown what he wanted you to see. Motel rooms with unlimited TV and junk food were your best friend every few weeks. Later in life, you would find out why he would leave you for hours alone in the motel rooms and, well, that would be the day you would start going with him and start your journey of becoming a hunter.)

It was Dean’s favorite too, for him it was the melody, the grip it had on him. It also reminded him of his dad, since John loved Zepps too.

“I approve!” You smiled thinking about your father. He was a stone-cold man, sometimes an overprotective controlling asshole, but he had an otherworldly taste in music.

“Awesome!” Dean said.

You were both enjoying the song – Dean’s eyes fixed on the road, loose grip on the wheel while you were lost in your thoughts, trying not to think about the man in that same car.

You and Dean were friends but…

“Everything that comes before the word but is bullshit” – was something you read a few years ago in a random romance novel and hasn’t left your mind since.

But…

BUT…

***

You were friends before getting drunk one Sunday afternoon, while Sam was asleep and ended up in his bed…naked. After that day, you both realized you gave each other the best orgasms and that the life you were living wasn’t exactly suitable for a romantic relationship, but since you both had extremely high sex drives you slept together again, and again and again…

Eventually, the deal was made – no strings attached and don’t tell Sam. The part where you didn't tell Sam didn’t last long. You didn’t need to tell him, the poor man found out for himself one night. The next morning was pretty awkward.

“Guys, next time,” he cleared his throat to find the words, “Don’t be too loud. I couldn’t sleep.”

Silence.

Dean stopped chewing his bacon while your cheeks turned pink and you lost appetite.

“Yeah, I don’t care what you do!” Sam continued trying to make things a little less awkward. It wasn't working. “Just…keep it on the low. Please?”

“I told you, you were too loud.” Dean said, digging back into his bacon and eggs.

“Oh go fuck yourself, Dean!” You said before taking a sip of your coffee.

“No need to sweetheart, you did a bang-up job last night.” He sassed back and winked.

You rolled your eyes while Sam had an evident expression of disgust on his face.

***

Friends…

But…

The connection you and Dean had was genuine, strong, and intoxicating, but one thing you knew – he was the right person but the time was fucking wrong.

With the world constantly going to shit and this life – there was no space for love, no space for being in love. And yet, your heart was telling you the opposite, not just your heart – Dean was showing you the opposite of no strings attached. He, at times, seemed attached – too attached.

No strings attached meant no kisses after sex, and yet he would always kiss your forehead afterward. No strings attached meant no going on dates, and yet you didn't mind going to pubs now and then to have a couple of drinks – without Sam. No strings attached meant not acting like you were dating and yet you did just that. Both of you didn't say anything and no one protested.

***

Dean even got a little protective; a few weeks ago when a guy tried to shoot his shot with you, even though you told him multiple times to leave you alone…

"Nice try pal. Scram!" He said, sipping his beer as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

The guy rolled his eyes, obviously getting the hint and finally leaving you alone. That was the first time you got butterflies because of that man, you didn't know why, you didn't understand it and all you could remember was —it felt nice. But the deal was the deal so you decided to play it cool and cheeky.

"So you're my boyfriend now?" You teased him.

"Hey, I don't share. Plus the guy couldn't take no for an answer." He winked and went back to his table where Sam was as you continued your solo game of darts.

I don't share.

****

"What?" Dean asked, snapping you back to reality. You were completely lost in your mind, reminiscing about every damn moment you spent with that man, overanalyzing every look, kiss, and touch you shared, and thinking about all the possible what-ifs. You didn't even realize that you were staring at him a little too long.

"Nothing." — you started with a lie — "I'm just thinking how hot you are while driving." And ended with the truth.

There was something about a good-looking man in front of the steering wheel that you found attractive. Correction, there was something about Dean in front of the steering wheel that you found attractive.

Dean smiled at your comment. It wasn't the first time you told him that, and it definitely won't be your last, but every time he would hear it, it would wake up something in him… something he didn't know how to identify. He had experienced it a couple of times, but that was a long time ago. He didn’t know what it was back then, and he didn’t know it now, but he knew one thing – he liked it. He liked the effect your words had on him.

"You know every time you tell me that we end up fucking in the car?" He finally said.

And with that, a light bulb went off in your head. You didn't want to think about what ifs or ponder over what if some things were not left unsaid. You wanted to shake that sorrowful feeling off and have fun.

Lucky for you, he was looking extraordinarily hot that day.

"Yeah I know," you said and undid your seatbelt. "I know you secretly get horny whenever I compliment or praise you."

"That's a lie." He lied as he gripped the wheel tightly, eyes still on the road.

“Yeah sure thing,” you said, brushing it off as you turned to face him. “Let’s play a game, Dean!”

“What game?” He asked, looking at you for a second, before focusing on the road again.

"The game is called “Can you resist me? and it goes like this: I give you head and if you stop the car, I win. If you cum, I win too." You leaned forward, placing a kiss on his neck. Dean looked at you again before looking back at the road. His eyebrows lifted for a second, not expecting that kind of game.

"Well, that's fucking impossible! How do I win then?"

"If we manage to get home while your dick is still in my mouth, you win."

“We still have like half an hour!” He said, knowing damn well he didn’t stand a chance. He loved your mouth too much, but still, he wasn’t about to say no.

“Well, step on it then!” You whispered in his ear and kissed him on his neck, and another one and another one… until your lips reached his cheek. He wasn’t saying a thing, he just gripped the wheel even tighter when your hand reached his already hard bulge.

He knew he was going to lose – he wanted to. You were something he thought he would never experience again. You were his laughter, his lust, his…everything. You kept him grounded, you melted his walls like royal water would melt gold. He would never say it, he would never admit it to himself because if he did, it would make everything real. He swallowed nervously when you undid his belt and zipper. Your hand went into his underwear while your lips were still placing kisses all over his cheek and neck.

“You’re going to lose, handsome,” you whispered, teasing him. “I know how much you love my mouth!”

“Bring it on,” he said in a very unsure tone. He knew you were right but still…Dean Winchester accepting defeat right away? Never.

“Eyes on the road then! Dying with your cock in my mouth sounds fabulous, but I don’t feel like dying…again.”

Dean nodded as you lowered your head to his lap and placed a gentle kiss on his tip. He was already hard and ready for you. Dean shivered when you licked the tip a few times before slowly putting it in your mouth.

“Fuck!” He whispered. Those almost 30 minutes back home seemed even longer now for him.

You started moving your head up and down slowly at first, establishing the pace. Not even two minutes have passed when you felt Dean’s hand tugging your ponytail.

Since I’ve Been Lovin’ You started playing in the car. It was the song you both refused to listen to, especially when you were together and alone. It was the forbidden song, the song that woke up the feelings you desperately wanted to ignore. You and Dean would both just casually skip it whenever it was on, no questions asked, but not this time. This time Dean was too busy telling himself not to cum to switch the damn song.

How I love you, darling

How I love you, baby

Dean’s cock was hitting the back of your throat over and over again, while your saliva was dripping from your mouth. The song mixed with his light moans filled your ears as your pace became faster.

My beloved little girl, little girl

But baby, since I've been loving you, yeah

I'm about to lose my, my worried mind, oh yeah

You were enjoying every minute of it. You loved making him crumble and weak. You loved seeing him come undone because of you.

Everybody trying to tell me

That you didn't mean me no good

I've been trying, Lord, let me tell you

Let me tell you, I really did the best I could

“Baby!” You heard Dean say. He had never called anyone but his beloved car ‘baby’ before. You would claim that nickname later on.

I've been, I've been working from seven to eleven every night

I said, it kinda makes my life a drag, drag, drag, drag

You wanted him to give in, you wanted him to lose, especially because you were growing wetter by the minute. So, you wrapped your hand around his shaft and moved it in sync with your head. The road seemed hazy, blurry even, as he squirmed in his seat.

Lord, yeah, that ain't right, now, now

Since I've been loving you

I'm about to lose my worried mind, yeah

Watch out

“Fuck this!” You heard him say and suddenly you almost lost balance and hit your head on the wheel. He stopped the car by the road. He lost.

You lifted your head, covered in your saliva, hair all over the place in a loose and messy ponytail. Dean took your head and crushed his lips on yours, tasting his precum on your lips. You kissed him back, not hiding the fact that you were smiling. Once he completely took your oxygen supplies, you broke the kiss.

“You can’t resist me!” You said.

“You know I can’t, now get in the back seat!”

“Whatever you say, handsome!” You giggled and did what he told you.

Once you stepped outside, you were hit by a cold breeze. Your skin didn’t even register how cold it was since your horniness was keeping you warm. Dean followed, with his unzipped pants, leaving his jacket in the front seat. You took off your boots, pants (with Dean’s help), and jacket, but were too impatient, too needy and pathetic, so once he was on top of you, you kissed him hungrily. He moaned into the kiss as you took the time to lower his jeans and boxers. You were impatient.

“Fuck me! Now!” You said and pressed your forehead against his as you moved your panties to the side to give him access.

Dean's hand went between your legs as his finger lightly brushed your folds, feeling how wet and ready you were for him.

“Jesus and I haven’t even touched you yet!” He said and licked his finger clean.

“You don’t have to. I get wet just by looking at you!” You said and kissed him again.

“Don’t objectify me!” He said, almost sounding offended. You laughed.

“Yeah, you’re not just a pretty face, Dean!”

“Oh really? How so?”

“You can be okay, sometimes,” you started. “When you’re not being an obnoxious jerk.”

“Sometimes?”

You smirked and started kissing his neck.

“Yeah, sometimes.” You teased.

“Good to know.”

The next song that came on was I Can’t Quit You Baby. Your lips were leaving a gentle trail of kisses on his neck as he entered you slowly. A wave of intense pleasure went through you as you moaned his name, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades and pulling him closer.

I can't quit you baby

So I'm gonna put you down for awhile

I said I can't quit you baby

Dean started to move, establishing a slow pace at first, letting you adjust to his size. He couldn’t get enough of the sight under him — messy hair, smudged mascara all over your eyes, lost in his. He found you incredibly sexy and alluring — every time you would sleep together, he’d wish it lasted forever.

“God, I love this song!” You managed to say in a whisper.

I guess I gotta put you down for awhile

Said you messed up my happy home

Made me mistreat my only child

Yes sir you did!

“Me too!”

Said you know I love you baby

My love for you I could never hide

Oh, you know I love you baby

It was getting hot in the car as you both started to sweat.

“Dean!” You whispered his beautiful name into his lips, not breaking eye contact. Something about all of this seemed different. It felt more intimate for you, more gentle. Usually, you would fuck like rabbits, and your sex life with Dean was pretty dirty, chaotic, and so fucking sinful. Dean liked when you would take control, and make him follow ‘sexy rules’ as he would call it, and you…well, you liked being in control. You liked seeing him beg, and be your little puppy.

This time was different. It felt more than just a casual meaningless fuck in the car. Eyes glued on each other, hands exploring already familiar bodies, lips swollen and red like cherries from kisses, and all that while your favorite band was playing in the background.

My love for you I could never hide

Oh when I feel you near me little girl

I know you are my one desire

Your lips formed an O as you felt it.

“I’m gonna –”

“Come on baby!��

His words sent that additional wave of pleasure, making your arch your back as you moaned his name over and over again.

When you hear me moaning and groaning, baby

You know it hurts me deep down inside

When you hear me moaning and groaning, baby

You know it hurts me deep down inside

Your orgasm triggered his and he shut his eyes and bit your shoulder lightly. He came inside you, filling you up, leaving you breathless.

You were both sweaty, panting — a mess.

Oh, when you hear me, honey, baby

You know you're my one desire

Yes, you are

You cupped Dean’s face with your hands, forcing him to look at you. Your reaction was just a smile – a genuine smile.

"Don't smile at me like that." He told you.

"Like what?"

"Like we just broke the deal."

" Dean, I think the deal has been broken for a while now."

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pinkiebieberpie · 1 year

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DATING DEAN WINCHESTER:

- he may not seem like it, but he is the biggest fan of cuddling,

- dean loves doing research with you, mostly because it always comes with lots of kisses,

- he is always touching you, he adores little, gentle and innocent touches,

- he also loves playing with your hair,

- and let's be honest he loves when you are playing with his hair; his head on your lap, just relaxing and you touching his hair, that's heaven for him,

- long car rides in the middle of the night!! talking about anything and everything, eating burgers at midnight, enjoying your time together,

- also making out in the impala ALL THE TIME; you sitting on top of dean, his hands on your ass, and of course it can get steamy,

- he loves cooking with you, when you two are alone in the bunker you always do that with a music, so you can sing and dance in the kitchen,

- dean is melting when you are on top of him during sex, he's a sub, but that doesn't mean he can't be more dominant,

- he just needs to be close to you, touching your hands, putting them above your head when he is the one making you feel good,

- this man loves taking photos of you: when you are doing chores around the bunker, when you are doing research, when you are reading, sleeping, when you are doing anything really,

- he also has a polaroid of you in his wallet,

- taking photos with you naked in bed after sex? yes.

- i was talking about cooking, but can you imagine baking with him?? "babe, can we make a pie?", "dean, again??", "i love pies and i love baking with you 😇😇" he's just a big, adorable baby sometimes,

- dean is an overprotective boyfriend even though you can take care of yourself,

- you are the one always winning rock-paper-scissors with him,

- he loves when you are wearing his clothes, especially when you are sleeping in his shirts,

- lazy mornings with him = breakfast in bed and big cups of coffee;

supernatural masterlist ++ tagging my sun @fleurfairie ☀️

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glorystark · 12 days

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Empty eyes | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean doesn't take Charlie's death too well and because of the Mark of Cain affecting him, he tells you things that will regret.

Warnings: moc!Dean Winchester, Dean being a dick, minor mentions of injury, swearing, ANGST, major character's death

Pairing: Dean Winchester × reader

Featuring: Sam Winchester

Word count: 2,3k

We watched in agony as Charlie's body, wrapped around a white sheet, burned in the flames. This should never have happened to her kind soul. She died so we could save Dean. I couldn't help but feel guilty; my heart ached because I lost a friend, again. I knew Sam felt the same. We both asked Charlie for help with the Book of the Damned, and we both lied to Dean about the book being destroyed. Now it was too late to make things right. Memories flashed through my eyes, making me tear up. I remembered when she helped us with the Dick situation, or when I taught her some hunter-kind-of-tricks. How happy she was and wouldn't stop thanking me. She didn't deserve this, anyone but her.

“Charlie,” Sam started, grabbing my and probably Dean's attention. “We are gonna miss you. You're the best.” He stopped when his voice cracked, and now I was sure he felt far worse than me because looking back, he suggested not telling Dean about the Book of the Damned not being destroyed, which I didn't agree with at first. But seeing Dean, my Dean, slowly fade away right in front of my eyes changed my opinion. Maybe it was selfish, me and Sam both were. But we couldn't let Dean become something he fears, a Monster. We couldn't lose another person, another family member, but we didn't realize who we were putting in danger on this path.

“We love you, Charlie, and I'm so sorry,” I said, blinking through tears.

“Shut up,” Dean said coldly, making Sam and me look at him. “You got her killed. You don't get to apologize.” He continued.

“Dean-“ Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

“You too, you two are the reason she is dead,” he said, not taking his eyes off the flames.

“We were trying to help you,” I said, still looking at him.

“I didn't need help,” he said bitterly. "I told you to leave it alone.”

“What were we supposed to do, just watch you die?” Sam asked, not letting me be the only one receiving the cold tone from his older brother.

“The mark isn't gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not, but when it's done with you, you won't be you anymore,” I stated. “Dean, you're all we got. So of course we were gonna fight for you because that's what we do,” I said softly.

“Yeah, she's right, we had a shot-“ Sam was cut off again by Dean.

“Yeah, you had a shot. Charlie is dead.” He finally turned his head to look at me and his brother, who was standing next to me. His dark emerald eyes bore into mine, and I couldn't recognize them. Never have I ever seen him look at me with those eyes. Because no matter how much crap we went through, he always made sure I was fine, and his eyes held nothing but sweetness and, on most occasions, worry. “Nice shot.”

“Are you even listening to me? You think I'm ever gonna forgive myself for that?!” I snapped, not being able to keep my voice down anymore. He is grieving, but so am I. If I could, I would trade places with her.

“You know what I think,” he started, still with the same voice tone. “I think it should be you up there and not her.”

I felt my heart break for the hundredth time today. I parted my lips, not taking my teary eyes off him, which clearly showed how hurt I was. Sam let out a small gasp and widened his eyes after he heard Dean's words, clearly not expecting his brother to go that far.

I knew he blamed me, probably even more than Sam. But knowing that he wanted me dead hurt more than any physical torture I've experienced.

Sam called his name, still shocked after what he heard, but his brother just walked away, breaking my heart more and more.

—————

It has been a week since I lost Charlie, since I lost my Dean. He has been searching for the Stynes ever since but has been having a bit of trouble finding their location. So meanwhile, he went on a few solo hunts. He hasn't said a word to me and to Sam, just a few like ‘buy some beers’ ‘did you find anything about the Stynes’.

He found another hunt for today and was packing his bag in his own room. We both haven't stepped in our shared room ever since the accident, which meant we weren't even sleeping on the same bed. I'm done with being ignored, so I knocked on his door and opened it without waiting for any response. He didn't even turn around, probably knowing it was me.

“Dean,” I called his name, not even knowing what I wanna talk about, but getting him to look at me was the first step. “Dean,” I called, this time louder, and when he still didn't turn around, I walked towards him and grabbed his arm. “Alright, I'm done. When will you finally stop ignoring me?!”

He looked at my hand, which was grabbing his arm, and slowly turned around, finally looking at my face. “I'm not ignoring you, I just don't want to talk to you or be near you,” he said bitterly, pulling his arm away and reaching for his door.

“Dean, you know you're not the only one who lost someone, okay? And believe me, I know it's my fault she's gone, and I'll never forgive myself for that. But, god, you're practically killing me. I miss you,” I said desperately, waiting for something in his eyes to change, waiting for him to embrace me in his strong arms, but... Nothing. His eyes didn't even hold hatred anymore, just emptiness.

“I don't know what you expect me to say, ‘I'm sorry you were so stupid’ ‘I'm sorry you got another person killed off’ ‘I'm sorry you're so fucking useless’ Huh?! Is that what you want me to say? You want me to feel sorry for you?!” he yelled, showing the anger and darkness in his eyes while he harshly slammed me to the wall, making me whimper slightly. His words cut deep into my skin, but I tried my best to ignore them, knowing this Dean wasn't really my Dean.

“I want you to understand, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I want you to tell me that we're gonna go through this like we always do,” I said softly, looking deeply into his eyes, trying to crack him.

He let out a dark chuckle and grasped my shoulders, lowering his head to be on the same height level with me. “You want me to tell you that we're gonna go through this? Well, baby, in that way, I'd be a big liar.”

“Dean, me and Sam, we are so close to saving you. Please, just don't let the mark control you,” I begged, feeling small under his touch.

“I don't want nor need you two saving me, and believe me, at this very moment, I'm trying to not let the mark control me, so don't provoke me,” he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"I thought you trusted me.”

“Well, that trust was destroyed when you got someone who was like a sister to me killed. Have you ever noticed how many innocent people died because you were being too stupid?” he said harshly.

"We all have made mistakes, Dean," I said, as I thought about the hunts where innocent people died, and I couldn't save them. I didn't want Dean to know how much his words were affecting me, but, god, I felt like a crumpled paper.

“Seems like that's the only thing you ever do,” he smirked, letting his eyes fall on the floor again before looking up at my eyes again. “Tell me, how does it feel knowing you don't mean anything to anybody and you're just a burden in our lives? How does it feel knowing nobody loves you?”

That's it. That was the punch line to make me break into tears.

“Y-you love me, you said that before.”

“You know I lie to get laid,” he said, smirking, proud of his response.

My heart was racing more and more, and I felt nauseous.

“Dean, please-“

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing!” he grabbed my cheeks harshly. “Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.” he said, spitting the words out before letting me go. He took his bag and walked out of the room, not even glancing at me. I slid down the wall as I started sobbing silently.

Then I heard a buzz from my phone.

New message from Sammy:

“Y/N, Dean just said he found a hunt, probably three to four werewolves, and he told me to go with him. I was really surprised but didn't question him. I think he's getting better. I'll also talk to him on the road. Next time, he'll definitely ask you too, just like old times. Don't stay up and don't worry; we got this :) love you.”

He asked Sam to go, but not me. If he hadn't told me that he hated me a few minutes ago, I'd think he was worried. But if it was really 3 or 4 werewolves, there's nothing to be worried about. He just wants to stay away from me. He told me I was a burden to them; he'll probably throw me out of the bunker soon.

Dark thoughts ran through my mind, and suddenly a rush of anxiety ran through me. What if there were more than a few werewolves? What if they get hurt? What if Dean hates me even more?

I checked Sam's message again and saw that he sent me the address of where the werewolves' location is and where the hunt would probably take place. I quickly rushed to my room, grabbed my car keys, and went to drive to the location.

—————

I was hiding behind some of the trees in the forest, watching as each of the boys fought one werewolf, two already dead ones on the floor.

Everything seemed good so far; I mean, their guns were on the floor, but they were fighting each werewolf single handed and there was no need for me to make my presence known. The boys were winning as always. And that's when I realized they don't really need me in their life. I knew the words that came out of Dean's mouth tonight weren't really Dean's, my Dean. But he was somehow right; before I became the hunter I am today, I made many mistakes. Some were small, and some led to people getting hurt or even killed. I also put their lives in danger multiple times because I was being reckless. Finding the demons that killed my parents blinded my vision. I was ready to get back to the bunker when I saw both of the werewolves giving up until I noticed something.

A werewolf close to Sam's back, and it seemed like none of the brothers noticed him. I searched for my gun but remembered I forgot it in the backseat of my car. I cursed under my breath and did the only thing possible right now to save Sam. I couldn't let Dean lose another person, especially his brother, who I knew meant the world to him. I couldn't put him through something like that again when there's a chance to save the younger Winchester.

So I ran towards Sam, trying my best to not slip because of the woods on the floor. The Werewolf was close, and nobody noticed him. I'm not the only stupid one after all. The boys turned their heads to me for a slight second, surprised at my presence, but didn't stop fighting the other werewolves.

Until I pushed Sam away from the werewolf he was fighting onto the floor. He seemed confused at first, until he saw it. I assumed Dean did too but couldn't be too sure since he was behind me. I let out an agonizing scream when the werewolf grazed his claws into my stomach and the other one, which Sam was fighting before, grazed his claws into my back before my lifeless body fell on the floor. Dean didn't hesitate more seconds before getting his gun from the floor and shooting all the werewolves.

I was bleeding like a waterfall from my body and my mouth. But the good thing is-

I didn't feel any pain, or anything in that matter…

Dean Winchester’s Pov:

No no no.

This can't be happening.

It's all a nightmare, just another stupid nightmare.

I heard Sam's crying voice telling the love of my life, his best friend, to wake up, holding her torn apart body in his arms, asking her why she pushed him away. But there was no answer.

It's a nightmare happening in real life.

Her beautiful y/e/c are open but so empty, unrecognizable.

I stood over her body, not being able to move from my spot.

There is so much blood everywhere.

Her blood.

This is hell.

No, I’ve been to hell and it's worse than hell.

I started tearing up more and more, reality hitting me more every second.

I let out an angry scream and fell on my knees when I remembered my last words to her.

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing! Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.”

She wasn't nothing, she was my everything.

She mattered, she was the reason I kept going, now she's gone and it's all my fault.

All my fault.

All of the words I said came back to me, making my chest hurt.

As I knelt beside her lifeless body, surrounded by the aftermath of our shattered world, I whisper into the silent abyss, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

And deep down I felt the Mark laughing…

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Note

Hey there, I was wondering if you could write a little Dean one-shot where he gets the reader to squirt?

hey, I hope you like what I wrote.

summary - dean gets you to squirt with just his fingers.

warning - smut, fingering, squirting.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

“C’mon, sweetheart. Let me hear you. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.” Dean curls his fingers as he says this, smirking as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head, back arching as your moans escape you and fill the room. “That’s a good girl. You’re so wet. So tight around my fingers.”

“D–Dean! Too much!” You squeal, and your hand moves down and grips his wrist, holding on as you can’t decide if you should push it away or pull it closer, so his fingers reach deeper inside you. Your mouth drops open, and soft whimpers escape you, feeling your core tighten. Your eyes snap open as you feel something weird. “S–stop, I feel weird… What’s happening?”

Dean’s thumb rubs your puffy clit, curling and thrusting his fingers faster. “Don’t worry, sweetcheeks. It's a good thing. Just let go.” His mouth waters as he stares down at your dripping cunt, watching your cream coat his fingers. A smirk appears as you spasm, a pornographic scream falling from your lips as your juices squirt out of you, covering everything. Dean chuckles, pulling his hand out of your used cunt and toward his mouth, staring you deep in the eyes as he sucks your juices off his fingers. “Damn, sweets. You taste so damn good, maybe even better than pie.”

Your cheeks turn a rosy pink as you hear his words and watch him suck on the fingers that were just inside of you.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollasks #imyourbratzdollwork #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester au

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queen-of-deans-booty · 3 months

Text

Find Your Way Back Home: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: smut, virgin!reader, oral fem!receiving, age-gap romance, angst

Summary: Dean purposely kept you out of the hunting game so you could focus on school and getting your degree. You still help out wherever you can, and that includes being there for Dean in his personal life as much as you can in his hunting life.

Author’s Note: This is the second part of six parts of the commission for @winchester-sinchester. Dean is twenty-six, the reader is eighteen, and Sam is twenty-four.

You stare out your dorm window in thought. You haven’t heard from Sam or Dean in a week. Are they alive? Did some monster finally catch up to them and kill them? Are they purposely ignoring you? You’ve been a steady force in their lives since you took down your first vampire eight years ago even if you weren't hunting with them together.

Whenever they would be in town, they’d hit you up and ask you to come along with them. John was with them for a few years until Dean and Sam got old enough to take care of themselves. Then it became only you three, which you preferred. You never liked how John treated his sons when he was with them.

Every time they packed up to leave for the next town, you begged them to take you with them. Dean didn’t want to deprive you of getting an education since you weren't born into the life like they were, so he convinced you to stay in your group home and in school. You studied hard to pass your classes while studying the monster world. The local library had more books on monsters than you thought, so you spent a lot of your time there. On days you weren't studying, you were in that same park practicing shooting and honing your fighting skills against trees.

Sam became impressed with your progress but it wasn’t his approval you were seeking. It was Dean’s. At fourteen when all your friends were experiencing romantic thoughts for the boys in your grade for the first time, you were experiencing them for Dean. He was twenty-two and so much older than you but you couldn’t help but have a major crush on him. Was it wrong to want his touch at such a young age?

He never did anything with you, of course, and you never pushed the idea. You just settled on fantasizing about him and rejecting any boy that came your way in high school. While all your friends were getting their firsts--kisses, losing their virginities, going on dates--you were at home wishing you were doing that with Dean.

By the time you were sixteen, you touched yourself to the thought of Dean for the first time. By the time you were eighteen, you were planning on taking those fantasies to the next level. You’re an adult now and fully capable of going after what and who you want.

The birds outside your window chirp happily pulling you from your thoughts. You really need to get your homework done if you want to pass this class. Not only did Dean encourage you to stay in school, he encouraged you to go to college. Fighting and breaking into places was cool for a while until you got a taste of technology. Hacking and making code became a passion of yours so your major is in Computer Science. You’re only a Freshman but you’re passionate enough to complete your degree.

Your phone rings and seeing his name pop up on your phone distracts you from your responsibilities. A blush starts to creep up your neck, your heart flutters, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He’s twenty-six and you’re eighteen. There is no doubt in your mind that he is going to break your heart, but you’ve always been a live-in-the-moment kind of girl.

“Hi, Dean,” you smile when you pick it up.

“What are you doing?”

His voice sounds rough like he’s trying to suppress his emotions. He’s always been very good at that.

“Homework.”

“Open your window.” There is no screen on your window since your roommate almost fell through it trying to jump on your bed when she got drunk. You haven’t had the heart to tell your RA about it. You open your window and look down at the ground to see Dean standing there looking up at you. Damn, he looks pissed. “Are you gonna let me in, sweetheart?”

Thank God your roommate isn’t home right now. You run down to the first floor to let Dean in. Only residents of the building are accessed to key cards that get inside the building. It helps with random people trying to come in whenever they want. It’s mostly for the creeps trying to follow home a bunch of college girls.

Dean doesn’t say anything to you on the journey back to your dorm. He’s never been here before, and you’re suddenly conscious of the random items everywhere. If you had known he was coming, you’d have cleaned a little bit. Dean walks into your bedroom and chuckles at the splashes of color everywhere. Pillows of different colors, the pink on your walls, a few posters on the wall, and nothing like he’d expect.

“Cute room,” he finally says.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m not doing too well, sweetheart.” You wait for him to continue. “Sam’s going off to college. Stanford.”

“Why is that a bad thing?”

Dean snaps his head to you and glares angrily. You’re not sure if he’s angry at himself, Sam, or you.

“He’s fucking leave the family like I don’t fucking matter.”

He sits on the edge of your bed so you take a seat next to him.

“I’m sure that’s not true at all.” You’ve been with them long enough to know that Sam has always butted heads with John. Dean obeys him without a second though but Sam is the rebellious one. “Maybe he wants more than the life your dad forced him into.”

“It’s always been just me and him. It’s always been about putting Sammy first. Now he wants to leave as if everything I’ve done for him doesn’t matter.”

“You do matter,” you whisper. “He knows what you’ve done for him. Him going away to college doesn’t change that.”

Dean looks at you and you get lost in his green irises.

“Whose side are you on?”

“I’m not on anyone’s side. I can see both points.”

Dean sighs. “Who do I have without him?”

“You have me.” Dean shakes his head but you keep him from going anywhere. “I’m serious. All of my classes are online. I could go with you if you want. I don’t have to live here.”

Dean looks back at you and subconsciously glances down at your lips. You part your lips and lick your lower lip and he follows the movements with his eyes. He remembers a conversation he had with you a year ago when you were venting to him about relationships.

“Still haven’t had your first kiss?” You shake your head. “Do you want to?”

His voice is laced with desire. This is it. This is the moment you’ve been after since you’ve had romantic feelings for Dean. Why are you so fucking scared? You nod twice before you can talk yourself out of it, and he looks back into your eyes. Dean leans into you slowly to give you time to back up if you don’t want this and when you don’t, he presses his lips against yours.

You’re afraid that your heart is going to jump out of your chest from how hard it’s beating. Despite the many, many videos you’ve watched on anything sexual, nothing compares to living in the moment. You barely have a chance to kiss back when Dean pulls away.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

He doesn’t move from you. “What for?”

“I’m not very good at this.”

“I’ll teach you,” he smiles.

With more confidence, Dean leans in again. He presses his lips more firmly to yours and grabs the underside of your jaw. He moves your head to the side to control the kiss, a kiss which you’re melting in. You’ve never felt anything like this so you trust Dean to lead you exactly how he wants you.

He swipes his tongue over your bottom lip which makes you part your own, and he slowly slides his tongue into your mouth. Damn, he is really good at this. He sends butterflies swarming in your stomach and a spark of pleasure straight down to your pussy. Dean shifts on the bed and gently lays you down so he can crawl over you. He presses light kisses down your neck as his hands start to roam your body.

You’re wearing a loose shirt which makes it easier for him to slide his hand underneath your shirt. Your breath hitches at the thought of his hand on your breasts, pulling at your nipples until they are perky and hard.

“Is this okay?” he whispers as his hand ghosts your ribs.

You’re not wearing a bra so he is just shy of touching your breasts. You’re nervous but you welcome the new feelings.

“Yeah,” you whisper back.

He kisses your neck a bit more and slides his hand over your breast. He takes your nipple between his thumb and index finger and rolls it until it becomes hard. You gasp and throw your head back from the slight pleasure. You’ve played with your boobs before but having someone else do it, someone you have a major crush on is something completely different.

Dean lifts your shirt up and removes it so that the only thing you’re wearing is pajama shorts. You decided against underwear because you had no plans on leaving your dorm room. If you knew Dean was coming over, you’d have put on something sexier. Dean kisses down your chest and stops to pull a hardened nipple in his mouth. Damn, so that’s what that feels like. To have a wet muscle lap at something that’s already sensitive.

He doesn’t stop there. He releases your right nipple with a pop and places open kisses on your stomach. He doesn’t want to do anything you might be uncomfortable with so he stops right above the waistband of your shorts.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you shake your head.

“No? You want me to eat this pretty pussy?”

“Fuck.” He has such a filthy mouth. “Yes, please, Dean.”

Dean smirks and hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls your shorts down and off your body. He grabs your thighs and spreads your legs so that your pussy is bare to him. Dean leans in and kisses your inner thigh to tease you. The anticipation is making you wetter than it should. You’ve fucked yourself before with your fingers and toys but never have you had someone so close to your most intimate parts.

Dean closes his mouth over your sensitive clit and sucks. Your hips buck against his mouth as you let out a sinful moan. His tongue hooks around your clit, and your hands grab fistfuls of his hair. He licks down to your slit and slides his tongue through your folds, and you arch your back off the bed.

“Fuck, Dean! Right there!” you gasp and tug on his hair to pull him closer to you.

He slides half his tongue into your aching core only to lick back to your clit. He massages your thighs before his right hand runs over your slit. He pushes a single finger into you and grunts when he feels how tight you are. His cock is straining against his jeans but he ignores that for now.

When he feels you get a bit wetter, he slides in another finger and curls them so the pads of his fingers touch that sensitive spot inside. You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge with each thrust of his fingers and each lick of his tongue.

“Fuck, I��m gonna come,” you gasp.

“Then come.”

With his permission, you tip over the edge and explode all over his mouth. He removes his fingers and laps up every drop you’re willing to give him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you taste amazing.”

He kisses up your body until he reaches your lips. Both of you don’t care that your taste is on his lips. He kisses you feverishly, eager to sink himself inside you.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask.

Dean moves off you and digs one out of his pants pocket. He never leaves the house without one. He’s single and loves to mingle so why not always carry one with him?

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. Please fuck me.”

Dean sheds every layer until he is as bare as you, and you can’t help but look at the sheer size of him. Is he going to fit? He rolls the condom over his cock and pumps it twice to get himself ready.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I won’t.”

Dean lays over you and grabs your left knee. He hikes it up so he has enough room to slide inside you. He rubs the tip of his cock over your throbbing cit and you gasp at the pleasure it sends through your body. He pushes in a few inches and that’s enough to get your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

He goes slow and allows you to adjust to him before sliding in a few more inches. The burn of stretching hurts but you tell yourself it’s only for a few minutes. It only takes one. Once Dean seats himself fully inside you, he gives you time to adjust to him. He’s never felt anyone so tight, so perfect for him. You wrap around him like a warm blanket on a cold day. How is he ever going to be able to leave?

“Okay, you can move,” you nod.

Dean starts slow to get you used to him but when he hears your eager moans, he goes faster. He grips your hips and sets a nice tempo that makes your heart lurch into your throat. This is what you’ve been waiting for your entire life. Dean has been the main subject of your fantasies for years now and it’s finally happening.

“Damn, sweetheart, you feel so perfect around me.”

“You feel so good!” you moan. You’re embarrassed to say that you’re closer to your second orgasm than the first one, but Dean’s okay with it because he’s chasing that same high at the same time. “Shit, I’m gonna come!”

“Yeah? Come for me. Come around my cock.”

Dean reaches down and rubs your clit in hard circles to help you over the edge. White-hot pleasure shoots from your core to the rest of your body as you come around him. He shoots his load into the condom and groans in pleasure. He rides out the high before pulling out, and he flops right next to you on the bed.

To prevent the condom from sticking to his ski, he peels it off and throws it into the small trashcan next to your bed. You roll over to face him and he gives you a lazy smile.

“Damn, you really know your stuff.”

“I’ve had practice,” he chuckles.

You scan the features on his face before snuggling closer to him.

“Will you stay with me? My roommate won’t be home all week.”

“I don’t know,” he whispers.

“Why not? Sam got out. He went to college. This could be your chance to get out of the life. It’s time to start your own.”

Dean has to be honest. He has thought about dropping everything and starting a new life somewhere. He’s seen the desirability of an apple pie life. He looks at you and sees that opportunity in your eyes. It wouldn’t hurt to try, right?

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

“Promise?” you whisper.

“I promise.”

You two go to bed together peacefully. However, when you wake up, he’s not next to you. In fact, he’s not anywhere in your dorm. He left and didn’t leave a note behind explaining why he wanted to break his promise. You curl into a ball in bed, unsure how to feel.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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zepskies · 9 months

Note

This is more of a Sam and Dean request than a reader and Dean request but what about Sam having a crush on Dean's gf? How would he react to that, I am honestly CRAVING angst and this is the angstiest, is that a word, thing I could think of, I am so sorry if you don't like angst or this makes you uncomfortable!!!

Oh my God. You killed me with this one, hun. 😫😫 I have another SB imagine coming next week, but I thought I'd put out this one for Dean to break it up a bit.

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,500

Imagine: You are Dean's one exception.

Sam knows it's wrong.

You're smart, with a degree in history that aids them well on hunts.

You're sharp, with a smart mouth that rivals Dean's (and keeps him on his toes).

But you're also kind. You take care of him and Dean with all the feminine grace and care they've never had in their lives.

Sam realizes it when he's up until 3 a.m. in the bunker's War Room. He's sat at the table, researching, eyes bleary, hands cramping from turning pages. And he finds a mug of hot tea sliding next to his idle hand on the table.

You're there with a smile and a hand on his shoulder. "Workin' hard or hardly working?"

Sam clears his throat and nods, chuckles a little. "I'm good." He eyes the mug. "Thanks, though I might need something stronger."

You eye him with gentle reproach. "Nope. Green tea is better for you this late at night. You really should go to sleep, Sam."

Sam tacitly agrees, but only because he can feel the warmth of your hand through his clothing, and it makes his face warmer than the tea. He watches you walk away, notices the curve of your ass in those little shorts. He can imagine your warm hands on his body, caressing him. He can imagine letting his lips graze your skin, exploring you, then devouring you.

And that's when his thoughts stutter to a halt. Sam inwardly cringes.

Despite his sleep-deprived brain, he's reminded that you're traveling down the hall to the room you share with his brother, and for Sam, it's nothing short of torture.

Because he realizes then that he isn't just fond of you. He doesn't love you like an older brother, or even a quasi-brother-in-law. He wants you.

Again, Sam knows it's wrong...but he can't help it. It's one of the saddest cliches in the fucking book. You're his brother's girl, and he wants you for himself.

And it's getting harder to hide it from Dean. They know each other too well -- a result of having no one but each other, but more practically, having lived in such close quarters for so long before they discovered the bunker.

When Sam gets hurt on a hunt, the cut is at a bad angle. He can't quite reach, so you dutifully come around and gently move his hand out of the way to do the stitch yourself. You tsk at him in playful disappointment. "I swear, it's a wonder you and Dean aren't walking patchwork quilts at this point."

Sam chuckles through his nose, wincing when the movement pulls on the stitch. You shoot him a stern look. "Stop moving."

"You're the one making me laugh!" he says, smiling incredulously.

"I don't accept excuses," you retort. "Keep still, please."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam says, his breath hitching for a different reason as he feels your soft hands along his side. He plays it off as pain. "Sorry," you murmur more sincerely. He tells you it's okay. His gaze flicks up, unconsciously finding Dean's face across the room.

He's just finished cleaning a cut on his hand. But he's been watching; Sam can tell. Dean's too perceptive not to notice Sam's discomfort. He probably even knows why. Sam can see a glint of it in Dean's eyes, the stoic front of his face.

"There we go!" you say in satisfaction, and you pat Sam's bare arm. He gives you a wan smile. "Thanks."

"You done, sweetheart?" Dean asks. You get up from your seat by Sam. "What do you need?" you ask.

"You. Come 'ere," he says with a smile, giving you a beckoning finger. "I felt that knot on the back of your head earlier. Think you're slick?"

You huff, but you also smile, in the way you only do for Dean. Sam watches you get up and go to Dean, who touches your cheek, stroking with a thumb first. Then he parts your hair to inspect the back of your head, and you wince a bit. You did fall pretty hard, now that Sam thinks of it. He frowns.

Dean lets out a deep breath. "You've got a nasty bump. You're taking it easy tonight, got it?"

"Yeah? Gonna help me relax?" you whisper. But Sam still hears you, because apparently no one taught you how the hell to whisper.

Dean smirks. "Watch it. I'll think you're flirting with me."

You give him a coy smile as your hand travels up his chest, between the open edges of his plaid shirt, then all the way down, to tease at his belt. "Believe me, when I do, you'll be the first one to know."

Dean's smirk deepens, but his eyes are softer. He closes a hand around yours and brings it to his lips. You lean up and request, wordlessly, for a kiss. Dean obliges you, capturing your lips with a soft kiss.

He eventually breaks from you, only to press his lips to your forehead next, closing his eyes with a sigh. He doesn't like it when you try to hide your injuries from him. You just don't want him to worry so much.

You smile and rest against his chest afterwards. It's clear as day what your heart holds.

It's hard for Sam to watch. His throat constricts, but he takes pains to avert his gaze.

He's so full to the brim with this that he sees no other recourse. He catches Dean alone in the kitchen and tries to make a confession. "Dean, we need to talk."

"Can it wait 'til I'm done?" Dean's plating up some stovetop mac and cheese -- your favorite.

"You're done cooking," Sam points out. Dean looks up at him. "We're doing a little dinner in bed situation. I made her promise to take it easy."

Sam admires the way Dean takes care of you. He really does. But it's also like a small oyster knife twisting in his gut. "Good. I'm glad," is all he says. "Yeah, we can talk later."

"Later" doesn't come for a long time. Weeks, in fact. But every time he tries to broach the problem, Dean finds a way to wiggle out of having the conversation. Always a distraction. A hunt. A fire you almost started in the kitchen. Being "in the middle" of something -- something in the bedroom that you insist needs Dean's immediate attention. Sam gives up for a while after that.

But Winchesters are nothing if not goddamn stubborn. Sam finally catches Dean alone in his room for once. You've gone to the grocery store, leaving the brothers alone in the bunker, but not for long, so Sam needs this chance.

"Dean, can we talk?"

Dean looks up at his brother from where he sits on the edge of his bed. He taps his knee, releases a breath. They both know what this is.

"Are you gonna do more than talk?" Dean asks. It's not what Sam expects. "What?"

"Whatever's on your mind, are you ever gonna do something about it?" Dean asks.

Sam stares back at his brother. He thinks. Hard. He's flipped back and forth for months. If he tells you how he feels, it's over. Things will never be the same between the three of you. It'll confuse you. It might even hurt you. It'll hurt Dean. Sam loves you both, if in very different ways.

So Sam is a bit deflated when he raises his resigned gaze and meets his brother's. "No."

After a moment, Dean nods. "Then we've got nothing to talk about."

But... Sam wants not to want you. Not to love you. Deep, deep down, a large chunk of him feels that he shouldn't have to hide himself. That you have a right to know the depths of what he feels, and what he feels for you.

"I see you're not convinced," Dean says dryly. Sam is silent, until Dean sighs and beckons him over. Sam obliges and sits down next to his older brother, the man he's looked up to (at least metaphorically) his whole life.

"I'd give my life for you. You know that. Right, Sammy?" Dean says. "If I couldn't tear the world apart, I'd lay myself out flat."

Sam sighs. "Dean..." Of fucking course he knows that. Dean already had given his life for him once. Remembering that only adds to Sam's guilt.

Dean meets Sam's gaze directly then. "But this is where I draw the line. She's my line," he says. His face is almost stoic, but his eyes are filled with unyielding fire. "I'm not layin' down on that. Not for you. Not for anyone."

Sam's heart clenches with every kind of pain, but he's also never respected his brother more. He nods. "I get it."

"No, you really fucking don't," Dean says. He's more than serious. "I mean it, Sam. I'll break your damn nose."

After a long moment, Sam nods. He knew Dean loved you. Of course he did. But this is the first time Sam truly understands how deeply. How completely. It's more than jealousy can fathom.

Sam realizes then that he lost, even before he began.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 I got way deeper into this than I expected to. Poor Sam. 😭 But I hope this scratched your angsty itch, my dear!

Read the Sequel

Here's the requested sequel to this: Sam crosses the line.

Also, if you want to read the reverse of this (Dean is in love with Sam's girlfriend): Dean gives you an impossible choice.

Dean Winchester Imagines

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 3 months

Text

Comfort Crowd

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

summary: dean just needs you next to him

pairing: (stanford era) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.9k

warnings: hurt/sad dean, language, reader drives after drinking but she’s not drunk, that’s it i think

author’s note: i know this gif is of jason teague and not dean winchester but that’s literally samford era jackles so i think it fits perfectly <3

music: comfort crowd by conan gray — was listening to conan gray and bam! dean winchester fic idea! anyways…

When you saw who was calling your brows furrowed — Dean? You had talked to him earlier in the week, just a casual check-in to make sure you were both still alive. You and Dean had gotten into a fight about a month prior and you both decided to just take a break from each other. You had made it clear that you were not breaking up with him, you just needed a break.

Last time you talked he was working a case in Texas, something with ghouls and sororities. You had just finished up a werewolf hunt and he had voiced his jealousy. He hadn’t gotten to fight a werewolf in many, many moons (pun intended).

“Dean?” you answered the call, still holding your first beer of the night in your free hand. He didn’t say anything, there was only labored breathing on the other side and that worried you. “Dean? Honey, is everything okay?” He still said nothing. “Dean, what’s—”

“Where are you?” he asked. His voice was clearly on the verge of cracking. He’d been crying?

“Uh, Bakersfield California,” you told him. “Just finished another case, simple ghost hunt. What’s wrong, Dean?” He again went back to just breathing. “Dean, where are you?”

“I’m in Palo Alto,” he said. “You—Could you get up here, p-please? I need you, hun. I just—I need you here.”

“I’ll be right there Dean, four hours tops,” you told him. You stood up off your chair and paid your tab. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t…fuck, I just wanna see you…please?”

“Of course, Dean, I’ll be there soon,” you reminded him. “What motel are you staying at?”

“I can text you the address just please…please hurry.”

With that, he hung up.

Please don’t be dying, you thought to yourself.

After several traffic violations and broken speed limits, you were finally knocking on his door.

“Dean!” you called out, not caring if it was now nearly three in the morning and there were definitely other people staying at the motel. “For the love of god Dean, open the fucking door!”

He unlocked and opened the door, rubbing his tired eyes. “Hey, you made it.” He smiled a little…smiled?

“Dean what the hell is going on?” you asked, trying to stay calm as you walked into the room. “You—That call? What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, “I’m fine.”

“Fine?” You furrowed your brows. “Dean you called me in tears and asked me to race over here as if you were dying?”

“I…I wasn’t in tears,” he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hang on…how do I know you’re you?” you asked.

He smiled and rolled his eyes a little before you both did the usual tests.

“See, sweetheart? All me!” He smiled again.

“Dean,” you said softly, “what’s going on? Are you…Are you dying?”

“No!” he scoffed, not calming your nerves in the slightest. “I’m sorry I scared you I just…needed you here. With me, next to me. I—Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Dean,” you shook your head, “I get it.”

You walked over to him and pulled him down into a hug; your right hand went to the back of his head as your fingers combed through his hair.

“I’m here Dean, you’re okay,” you told him. His grip tightened around you, as if he was scared you’d break off the hug. “I’m right here.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking again. “Thank you.”

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. You were on your tiptoes, which was kind of uncomfortable, but your love for the man in your arms outweighed any discomfort. You felt Dean’s tears begin to dampen your neck and your eyes grew cloudy at the thought of him in pain. He truly mastered the art of silent crying, he must’ve had to hide his tears from that bastard father of his growing up, and that thought only made your heart break more. Your grip tightened around his shoulders and you turned your head so you could place a soft kiss on his temple. You made a trail of kisses down to his jawline then left your lips there against his skin.

“Thank you,” he pulled away, “just…thanks.”

“Do you wanna lay down, Dean?” you asked. “We could cuddle up and maybe watch a movie? Or we could listen to music? I’ve got my iPod and we could share my earbuds?”

A soft smile returned to his tear-stained face and he nodded; “Music sounds perfect.”

“Mkay,” you replied. “Now, I have to admit I don’t have many Zeppelin songs downloaded—”

“It’s okay,” he shook his head, “I don’t care what song we play, as long…as long as you’re here. Just need your company.”

“Funnily enough, I do have some Bad Company songs,” you joked, causing his smile to grow.

“You’re the best company,” he countered.

“Why don’t you change into your PJs while I go get my bags from the car? We can get comfortable in the bed and maybe you’ll even get some sleep.”

Your fingers were once again tangled in Dean’s hair as his head lay on your chest, he was facing away from you but you knew he was still crying. You just didn’t know why.

“Is this Heuy Lewis?” Dean chuckled.

“Hey! No disrespecting Heuy!” you laughed, but Dean knew you were serious. “You want me to skip it?”

“Nah, I’ll live,” he joked. The joke made your heart clench a little though; your mind going back to the call he made to you a mere few hours ago. How scared he sounded. How scared you were as you raced to get to him. Dean must’ve sensed the change in the room because he made sure to remind you; “I’m fine.”

“You said that line already, Dean,” you said through a sigh. “I’m here if you wanna talk, okay?”

“I don’t wanna talk,” he mumbled. “I meant what I said—I just need you here with me, I just need you around.”

Your free hand (the one that wasn’t currently in Dean’s hair) went to rub comforting circles on his upper back. He let out a contented sigh which made you smile.

“I love you, Dean,” you told him. “I love you more than anything, you know that, right?”

“Thank you,” he mumbled. He buried his face against your chest, trying to hide the sheepish smile forcing its way onto his face before he lifted his head so he could look into your eyes. “I love you so much.”

He leaned over and kissed you softly, his smile connecting with yours. He pulled away after a moment, simply looking into your eyes. He kissed you once more before laying back down, this time resting his head next to yours so he could kiss you again.

“Sorry about your shirt,” he said, laughing awkwardly at the damp mess of spilled tears covering a fair portion of your tee.

“I don’t mind, kinda like my shirt soggy,” you shrugged with a smile, pulling him closer to you and tucking your head under his chin.

When you woke the next morning you did not expect Dean to be singing to himself while making breakfast.

“What time is it?” you asked with a yawn as you sat up in bed.

“About seven,” he replied. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.”

You hurried over to the small kitchen so you could wrap your arms around him from behind.

“What’s gotten into you?” he teased.

“Could ask you the same question, handsome,” you replied, not letting go. “The food smells amazing and all, but since when do you cook?”

“Remember that fight we had?”

“I vaguely recall,” you said, somewhat flatly.

“I’ve been working on my breakfast cooking so when I saw you again I could you know…woo you.”

“‘Woo me’?” You raised a brow, your smile growing. “You’re wooing me…with bacon?”

“Damn right!” he scoffed lightheartedly. “I know the way into your heart, and whether you admit it or not—it’s mother fuckin’ breakfast food.”

“You know me way too well,” you laughed. “I’m officially wooed.”

There was a comfortable silence before Dean answered the question he knew you were still wondering about; “Sam and I fought last night.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“I knew him going to a fancy college would put a bit of a rift between us…but fuck, sweetheart,” he said. He ran his hands down his face before he leaned against the counter and looked at you; “I think we…I don’t think Sammy and I will ever be as close as we were growin’ up ever again.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Dean,” you assured him, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a comforting squeeze. “Sammy just needs time, maybe a bit of space, but that’s only temporary, Dean.”

“Seems like everyone around me always needs space,” he chuckled humorously.

“If this is about what I said—”

“Nah, you don’t have to explain yourself, I get it!” He shook his head, faking a smile. “You couldn’t stand being around me all the time and hey, that’s okay.”

Your brows furrowed with slight anger; “That’s not what I said, Dean.”

“That’s what it sounded like,” he mumbled before he turned back to the stove to continue making breakfast.

“Dean I love you, you know I love you!” you said. “I raced here last night when you asked me to, doesn’t that prove I love you!?”

“And what happens when we get into another fight?” he exclaimed. “What happens when you decide that you need more space and you don’t bother coming back to me?”

“That’s not going to happen?” you countered.

“You can’t say that for sure,” Dean said.

“Yes I can, Dean!”

“What makes you think that, huh?” he replied loudly. “What makes you think you aren’t gonna run the second you realize that putting space between was the best decision of your fucking life!?”

“Because I love you, Dean!” you said, matching his tone. “Because no matter how far away I was from you the one thought running through my head was that I should call you. That I should stop being so stubborn and run back to you.” You sighed as he continued cooking and you went up to him again, leaning on his bicep and running your hands up and down his forearm. “Because when I got that call…all logic flew out the window and all that mattered to me was getting to you. When I thought you might be dying I didn’t care about anything else and I raced to you like a mad woman. Like a girl so lovestruck she’s practically crazy!”

Dean let out a chuckle which made you smile.

“So…you’re sayin’ you missed me?” he asked, a cocky smirk finding its way to his lips.

“Yes,” you sighed dramatically. “Okay? Yes, Dean, I missed you like fuckin’ crazy, and I’m sorry for ever suggesting we take a damn break. But… you know what this means now, right?”

He looked at you cautiously; “What?”

“You’re stuck with me, Winchester.” You grinned. “And I’m never letting you go again.”

“Sounds good to me,” he replied as he leaned down and kissed you.

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