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#supernatural dean
anntova · 19 hours
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Fever
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Dean drinks so much and every time he drinks I think about how bad his liver is...
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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 9 hours
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Look Out for You
Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader
Requested by Anonymous
Synopsis: You stop taking care of yourself, literally worried sick when the boys don’t come home from a hunt.
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Three days. Not a long time, right? Just a long weekend, really. 72 hours. It didn’t even qualify as long enough for a vacation. It was no big deal.
At least, until three days turned into four. 72 hours turned into 96. Regular texts turned into silence.
You’d been lounging around the bunker for four days. For the first three, you were anxious but functional. You hated it when the boys were out on a hunt far away; you spent the whole time worrying.
But it all went downhill when they didn’t come back. They were supposed to be back in three days at most, but that marker had come and gone and there was no word from Sam and Dean.
You hadn’t gotten any sleep the night they didn’t come home, and you found yourself too nervous to eat now. You’d called Castiel more times than you could count; he was busy in heaven, so you’d weren’t expecting a reply, but you tried anyway—nothing. You’d done the same with Sam and Dean’s phones, with the same result.
Four days turned into five; five to six. The food in the fridge was going bad, not that it mattered; you hadn’t eaten since day three. You hadn’t slept or showered, either; you couldn’t bare to to anything but pace around by the door, waiting, hoping, praying.
By day seven, you were pretty sure you were delirious. Whether it was from hunger or sleep deprivation you couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore except Sam and Dean coming home.
You felt like a rope, frayed at the end; like one little tug would unravel you completely. The tug came in the form of the sound of the door opening. Your whole body stiffened like you’d been shocked, and your exhausted system couldn’t take it. You knees gave out under you, and before the door was even open you began to cry. You weren’t even sure why; whether it was relief that Sam and Dean might be back, or fear that it was some intruder that would find you so vulnerable and kill you easily. Part of you didn’t care anymore; either way, the torture would be over.
“Guess who—hey!”
You heard the voice as if through a deep fog, and it didn’t register in you until you felt hands at your arms and face.
“Hey, Y/N!”
You forced your eyes into focus and saw Dean, his face hovering over you as he cradled your face in his hands, his brows drawn together in concern. Sam was at your side, holding onto your arms as though to anchor you to the world.
“S’m…De…” your voice was hoarse, and just trying to speak sent you into a coughing fit.
“Hey, hey it’s ok,” Dean soothed once he was sure that you weren’t hurt. He pulled you into his arms. “It’s ok, we’re right here.”
“You-you said three days,” you sobbed. “Where were you?”
“I’m sorry.” You felt Sam’s arms around your shoulder as he pulled himself closer to you. “We’re so so sorry.”
“What’s going on?” Dean asked as he pulled back. “You look awful, when was the last time you slept?”
Your answer was cold and direct.
“Day three.”
“Commere.” Dean sighed and stood, lifting you into his arms. “You need to sleep.”
You let Dean carry you into your room without a word, Sam following behind. But when Dean laid you in your bed you had to ask—
“Where were you?”
“The hunt went a little sideways,” Sam said. “We kept trying to send messages, but nothing went through.”
“I’m gonna have to give the communications system in the bunker a check,” Dean piped in.
“I’m sorry,” Sam added. “We really did try. But we can talk more about the hunt later, you need to sleep now.”
The room was quiet for a minute as you settled down in your bed. You were the first to break the silence.
“Can you stay with me?”
“Of course,” Dean said, and Sam sat on the edge of your bed. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Sam, exhausted from the hunt, ended up falling asleep right next to you. Dean, however, was too distracted to sleep. As soon as you and Sam were settled down and breathing deeply, he went straight to the kitchen. He was pretty sure just looking at you that you hadn’t eaten in a while, but he wanted to be sure. Sure enough, when he got to the kitchen, he found that there was almost as much food in it as there had been when they’d left. He set about preparing some food with whatever wasn’t expired.
“Dean?” Dean turned at the sound of your voice to see you sliding into the kitchen in your socks, rubbing your eyes.
“Hey kiddo,” Dean smiled softly. “Commere, I made you a sandwich.”
Dean watched carefully as you made your way to a stool and dig into one of the sandwiches he’d left on the counter.
“Sweetheart, when was the last time you ate?” Dean asked.
You swallowed guiltily and avoided Dean’s gaze as you shrugged.
“Sweetheart…”
“I couldn’t,” you said finally. “I was too scared.”
“Baby,” Dean sighed, pulling you into his arms when you shuddered. “I get it, ok? I know you were scared for us, but you can’t do that. You gotta take care of yourself. I don’t even wanna think about what would’ve happened to you if we had taken even longer to get back.”
“It’s just so hard.” Dean held you tighter when he heard your tear-strained voice. “I need you guys. I don’t know what I’d do if you guys didn’t come back…”
“I know, I know,” Dean soothed, his arms tightening around you. “Ok, we don’t have to talk about this now. Just get some food, and maybe a shower, ok? And then you should probably sleep more.”
You nodded your assent and returned to your sandwich. After a moment, you said—
“Dean? You…are you guys gonna be around for a bit?”
“Me and Sammy aren’t leaving until you’re taken care of, ok? You need some sleep, and you gotta be taking care of yourself. Plus, the bunker needs a serious grocery run. So yeah baby, me and Sam are gonna be around for a bit.”
Dean chuckled softly when you jumped up and hugged him again.
“Thank you,” you breathed.
“Anytime, little sister.”
“Mm, sandwich.”
You and Dean broke apart with a laugh as Sam staggered into the room and went right for the food.
“You gonna get some more sleep after that sandwich?” Sam asked you, suddenly serious.
“Yes mom,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.
Sam and Dean both chuckled at this.
“Just looking out for you, kid.”
Taglist:
@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale
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waywardbabysis · 3 days
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Supernatural Baby aesthetic vibes af.😎🔥🖤
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clmfusded24-7 · 2 months
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you know it's bad when every day you're relating more and more to Dean Winchester
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pinkiebieberpie · 1 year
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pov: your camera roll if you were on a vacation with sam, dean and castiel
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who said a hunter can't take a break? lots of fun, enjoying your time together at a peaceful place and just a little bit of hunting 🌲☀️
tagging my sun @fleurfairie ☀️
supernatural masterlist
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art-tism · 13 days
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AhhhHGGHGH this man
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strawberly95 · 2 months
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HAPPY (late) 45th BIRTHDAY DEAN🥺🩵💚😩😩
Agh I couldn't finish this on time but at least I finished it😭😭 Pls dont let this flop I spent 4 days making it💀
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studentpeach · 13 days
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Supernatural doodles 😼
-DO NOT REPOST-
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via-l0ve · 2 months
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Dean Winchester NSFW headcannons ❤️
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a/n: i’m nothing if not a slut for him. lmk if you guys want a pt 2!!!
warnings: SMUTTTTT!!! aimed towards afab!readers, all of this is consensual behavior! not edited
dean is such a switch
one night he’s telling you to beg for his cock
the next he’s a whimpering, moaning mess while you fuck him
he’ll be so gentle, fucking you sweetly one night
kissing all over your body, touching you right where you need
other night he’ll be fucking you fast and hard, a grip on your wrists above your head
“that’s right, my pretty little slut, making me feel so fucking good.”
sometimes he will tie his belt around your thighs and fuck them
he’ll make sure he’s close enough to rub against your clit
when he sees your pussy for the first time he’s on his knees and takes his middle and pointer finger and spreads her apart
“she’s so pretty.”
kisses your clit
will eat you out like a starved man
begs you to let him
“please, please. i need to taste your pussy.”
he will get on his knees and throw your legs over his shoulders so your pussy is literally right in his face
makes sure you cum more than once
gentle dom when you’re overstimulated
“c’mon, baby. you can do one more for me right?”
deans down to try anything once
anything
he has a daddy kink idc
call him daddy and he’ll start fucking you on the spot
he loves praise but slips in some degradation here and there
“fuck, so good for me. such a cumslut for daddy’s cum huh? driving me fucking crazy, babygirl.”
dean will fuck you ANYWHERE!
car sex? mhmm
public? bathroom fuck
and i know what you’re thinking
“what’s if there’s not a bathroom?”
dean will put a vibrator in that pretty pussy and watch you crumble
insists on having a safe word
he gets caught up in the moment
he’s also vocal
not afraid to moan for you
this is my take
dean (CONSENSUALLY) will fuck you while you’re sleeping
the thought of you waking up all innocent and unaware with his cum dripping from you is enough to make him bust
also when you give him blowjobs he holds your head while he cums so he can watch you swallow it all down and finish sucking him off
he will definitely finger you under blankets while other people are in the room
🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ idc
his dick is big. and girthy
he loves how you whimper whenever he goes into you
again, very vocal
“fuck-fuck baby.. oh-oh i’m gonna cum- ohhh god… good girl.. good girl.”
“that’s right, take daddy’s cock like a good slut. my good little slut.”
“god- i love you.”
“you make such pretty noises, babygirl.”
i need him biblically.
sucks your tits
when he’s in a submissive mood he will spend so long just sucking your titties and slowly fucking into you
titfuck him
loves cumming on your chest
rubs it over your nipples
he will cum in your panties and then make you wear them
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thedramaticwriter1 · 29 days
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Stitch 'em up
(Dean x Reader)
Summary: An injured Dean comes back from a hunt.
Character count: 2.7k+
Warnings: Blood, a snarky, injured dean
A/N: Didn’t mean to take so long in between posts, sorry not sorry lol
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You sit on the dinning room chair with a cold beer sat in front of you, bouncing your leg up and down. Dean had called about an hour ago to tell you that his hunt was finished and he would be on his way home. The tone in his voice was tight and it had caused your stomach to sour. 
“How bad was it?” You had asked over the phone the second he was done talking.
“Piece of pie, sweetheart. As usual” He replied and you heard him grunt in pain as he attempted to lower himself into the front seat of the Impala. 
“Piece of pie my ass, Dean. I can basically hear how hurt you are over the phone” you replied, your grip on your phone tightening as irritation and worry coursed through you. He had told you to take a break on this hunt and relax at home, he could handle it himself. As usual, he was wrong.
“Hmm a piece of pie and your ass? Count me in” his voice dropping an octave at the suggestion, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
“Not now Winchester. Just get home so I can deal with you” and with that you hung up the phone. 
Another hour you had been waiting for him since that phone call, beer untouched in front of you, starring at the bunker door waiting for him to stride on in. It felt like every minute dragged into a small eternity, each one lasting longer than the one before it. Ages passed by before you heard the rumble of the Impala’s engine and the opening and shutting of its door. 
If you hadn’t known he was hurt before, you knew it now. It took him a solid 10 minutes to walk from the impala to the bunkers’ entrance, normally a journey that lasted a couple of seconds. 
You watched as he slowly opened the door, hope in his features that maybe you had gone to bed already and he could get his ass chewed out tomorrow morning. Unfortunately for him, he’d get it right now. 
His gaze searched the room until he spotted you sitting on the dinning room chair, his whole body slumping in defeat. Like a thief caught in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t even look you in the eye, knowing exactly what he would see. 
Worry. Frustration. Fear. Anger. All of which had an equal grip on your mind at the moment.
“What happened?” You asked, not moving from your spot on the chair and not sugar coating this conversation. 
The instant he heard your tone he knew he was in big trouble, and what does someone in trouble do? They butter up. 
“Sweetheart, have I told you lately how beautiful I think you are?” He responded sweetly, attempting to bat his eye lashes at you while simultaneously trying to hide that he was holding one hand to his obviously injured left side. 
“Dean…” you responded while slowly rising up from your chair. Your voice was low and lethal, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. 
“Seriously, baby. You're the most beautiful woman on the planet..” he says as he smiles at you while attempting to straighten his hunched form. Still he’s trying to cover up his injuries, even though they are plain as day to you. 
“Winchester…” you fling the name at him, half way to him. Already you can see red seeping around where his hand is pressed to his side. Your eyes go wide as you realize he’s still bleeding from an injury he received over two hours ago. 
“Honestly Y/N, I’m the luckiest man al-“ is all he gets out as he attempts to take a step in the direction of the the hallway that leads to your shared bedroom in an attempt to escape your anger and doubles over as his legs give out from under him. 
“Dean!” You yell as you rush towards him, close enough that you're able to catch him under his arms right before he hits the ground fully. 
“Alive” he squeaks out pathetically while still trying to smile up at you. Knees on the ground and still trying to flirt his way his out of this. 
Ridiculous. You bend down so you're able to reposition his arm to hang around your shoulders. 
“Do you think you can walk towards the bathroom?” You question as you try to gauge how injured he really is. 
“Let’s try the kitchen instead” he grunts out. This close to him, you’re able to see that he has no visible wounds on his face, but you wince when you notice his lips are a shade lighter than they normally are. 
“Alright then, on the count of three. Ready? One, two, three…” you haul up as much of his weight as you can onto your own body and you both stand up straight. You stand there for a few seconds hoping he can get his bearings and won’t pass out on you. After you're confident he can make the small journey to the kitchen, you start walking. Slowly, step by step, you two head for the kitchen, you leading the way incase you need to catch him if his legs give out again. 
“I’m guessing you're not gonna let this one slide, huh baby?” He says as you cross the threshold of the kitchen, almost to the table sitting in the middle of the room. 
“Pfft, you’ll be luckily if I ever let you hunt again” you respond. Only half joking, but you’ll deal with that later. “I’m gonna sit you down on that chair okay?” You tell him as you near it. 
“Sitting sounds good right now” he responds, wincing with each step you guys take. You finally reach the chair and you gently help him lower himself onto the seat. You move around slowly so that you're standing in front of him, still holding onto his shoulders to steady him. After some time, once you know he’s stable enough on his own, you turn towards the hallway and make a beeline to the bathroom in search of the first aid kit. It became a habit of yours to always have it stocked with the essentials, even going as far as having Sam create a fake hospital personnel ID for you so you could make your way into the local hospital and steal some of the supplies, knowing you’d use them eventually. 
Rummaging though the cabinets, you finally locate the kit and rush back to the kitchen. Turning the corner, you see Dean resting his head on the table, his hand still holding pressure on whatever wound he has on his left side. 
You reach him and grab his shoulder. “Dean, wake up” you say as you shake him awake, your worry only growing as he takes awhile to wake up. His eyes open slowly at your voice: “I'm not sleeping sweetheart. Just resting my eyes for a little”. You know that's bullshit. Who knows how much blood he’s lost at this point. 
“I need to see the wound, Dean” you say sternly, not trying to give way to your concern, knowing there is a job to be done here. 
“It’s fine baby, I just need a bandaid that’s all” he says as his eyes close again, not even having the energy to look at you while he talks. 
“De, I swear to God, if you don’t show me right now, I’ll let you bleed out on this table” you say, having enough of this shit. You’re tired of him downplaying how serious this was, especially because he needed help. 
“No, you wouldn’t” he says, knowing that there was no way in hell that you would let that happen, but still. You needed to get your point across. He finally opens his eyes to look at you and must see how worried you are, cause his lips turn down into a small, sad smile before attempting to remove his hand from his side. 
“Let me” you grab the scissors from the first aid kit and make quick work of his shirt, cutting down the side near his injury.
“Hey, that was my favorite…” he responds but all protests die when he sees the face you give him. The shirt is the least of your concern. 
Slowly and carefully, trying not to aggravate the wound any further, you peel his shirt off of him and throw it to the ground. You’re finally able to get a full view of it and you're unable to silence the gasp that manages to escape your lips. 
From the bottom of his waist stretching across his ribs and ending right under his arm pit are five deep gashes, each one worse than the last. Staring at his mangled skin, one monster comes to mind that could inflict this kind of damage.
“Damn it Dean, you didn’t tell me it was a werewolf case you were on” you scold him as you assess the wounds. You grab the gauze and hydrogen peroxide from the first aid and you get ready to begin to clean the gashes. 
“Yeah, well I didn’t want you to wo— Son of a bitch!” He yells as you move the gauze you're holding to the first wound, attempting to scrub the dirty and dried blood off. 
“Don’t move or it’s going to hurt even worse” you tell him and you try and hold him still enough with your other hand so you can keep working. Eventually you’ve managed to clean out the first gash and it’s already  begun to leak out fresh blood from the irritation from the gauze. You know you need to work quickly, not knowing how much blood he’s already lost on the drive here. 
One down. Four to go. 
“You try not moving while someone burns your skin off” he retorts, complaining about the hydrogen peroxide your applying, trying your best to avoid infection. You don’t even want to begin to think of how dirty a werewolves claws are.  
“It doesn’t even burn you big baby” you say as he flinches at you when you begin to clean the second cut. 
“I’m not a big baby” he pouts, closing his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but what your hands are doing. 
“Just save your strength and hush up” you tell him, knowing he needs to save all the energy he has left and not waste it on bantering with you. You continue working, washing the dirt and debris out of the second gash.
Two down. Three to go. 
That becomes your mantra as your mind thinks of nothing else but cleaning these wounds. 
Three down. Two to go. 
You work in silence and Dean doesn’t try to talk again, the pain being too much for him right now. You also don’t attempt a conversation with him right now, knowing that the only words that would come out right now would be filled with anger and fear, and you don’t think you have the stomach for that right now. 
Four down. One to go. 
After an eternity, you are finally able to clean the last gash, now taking a look at the true wounds in their bloody glory. “You’ll definitely need stitches for these, De. They're too deep” you surmise. All he does is nod his head and you know that the pain is getting to him. “You want something for the pain?” You question, and move to the first aid kit when he nods his head. You pull out the painkillers and grab the bottle of whiskey that was resting on the table. “Both will help, trust me” you say and you hand him the pills and open the whiskey bottle for him. 
He’s slow to move, not wanting to injure himself further. He gradually brings the pills to his lips, then the bottle, taking a few good gulps before handing it back to you. 
“Do you want to wait till they kick in before I start stitching you up?” You ask him. He shakes his head slowly. 
“Just get it over with” he responds, carefully laying his head back on the table. 
And that’s what you do for the next hour. Stitch by stitch, you close the wounds that are scattered across his skin. He’s definitely going to have a few scars, but there’s nothing you can do about that now, and it’s not like scars have ever bothered him before. He even revels in them a little, physical proof of what he’s overcome. Half way through you can tell he’s still in pain, but you notice his breathing has gotten more even, his shoulders more relaxed, and you know the pain killers have started to kick in. You breathe a sigh of relief and keep working. Your mind goes blank as you focus solely on what’s in front of you. 
Stitch, blood, stitch, some more blood, stitch, blood.
104 stitches and an empty whiskey bottle later, you finally finish. When he feels your hands lift from him, he stirs a little. 
“You done?” He questions you. He slightly slurs his words as his eyes look up at you with his head still resting on the table, waiting for your response. 
“Yeah I’m done” you respond as you finish dressing the wound. You finally stand up and look down at him. You're still upset at him for downplaying how injured he was, but seeing him now, some what whole and alive, you can’t help the knee wobbling relief that washes over you.
You reach your hand out and rub it through his hair, savoring the way it feels in your fingers. “I am so incredibly pissed off at you right now” you say weakly, but even as the words leave your lips, your eyes begin to water. 
“I know. I’m sorry sweetheart” he responds, dragging his hand up to rest on your hip. “You can yell at me tomorrow, I promise” he says, squeezing lightly.  
Your heart clenches at the gesture, and you smile through your tears. “Alright”, you respond as you wipe at your eyes. “Let’s get you to bed” you say as you move closer to him to help him stand up. You’re careful not to rub against his dressed wounds and grunt a little as you stand up with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. With small, slow steps both of you make it to your shared bedroom. You swing the door open with your foot and he turns on the light with his free hand. You make your way to the bed and gently lower him down. 
“I’m gonna get you out of these” you tell him, nudging at his jeans, eyeing the blood and grime scattered on them, knowing he’ll be more comfortable if he changes. 
“If you wanted me naked sweetheart, you could have just asked” he responds, looking up at you while attempting to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively. 
“Ha-ha, very funny. I’d like to see you try any kind of move right now” you say, turning and walking towards his dresser, searching for a clean pair of shorts to change him in to. While digging through his drawers he responds: “Oh I have plenty of moves”. You look over and chuckle at him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to move off the bed, let alone do anything else. You walk back to him and begin taking his jeans off. Slowly dragging them down his legs, you search for any other wounds, glad to not find any. Once he’s changed, you help him lay under the covers and get comfortable. He’s already asleep by the time you move to the adjacent bathroom to change yourself. Once finished, you lay down with him. 
You can’t stop yourself from staring at him, memorizing the already known freckles on his face. You reach to stroke the stubble he’s neglected to shave on the hunt, the movement causing him to stir. 
“You know I love you, right?” He mumbles, not completely awake. 
“I know. I love you too” you respond, moving to kiss his cheek. “You’re definitely gonna hear about this in the morning” you add, knowing that an argument tonight wouldn’t benefit anyone. You also were too grateful he was still in one piece to be fully upset with him right now. 
“That’s alright baby. Yell at me all you want. The sex after our arguments is always the best” he says, grinning with his eyes still closed. 
You scoff. “You’re horrible” you say, smiling back at him, knowing he’s exactly right. 
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distorted-ozone · 14 days
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The Winchesters! Supernatural dog AU? Anyone?? Supernatural is still popular right? 😭 anyways I struggle drawing them as humans so why not switch them to dogs.
If you want more of this, I’m taking draw requests on my insta story, (plus I’m more active on insta)
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anntova · 23 days
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rodeo with Castiel
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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months
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Protector
Requested by @captaincvans
Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, a little bit of Sam Winchester x little sister!reader
Synopsis: your big brother Dean has always been your protector
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It started when you were four years old. Dean answered one of John’s phones, and was shocked to hear your tiny voice on the other end.
“Who is this? How did you get this number?”
“My mommy,” you were sobbing into the phone, and Dean’s heartbeat picked up. Had someone hurt the little girl on the other end? “My mommy said to call if-if bad things happened. She said it was my daddy’s number.”
To say Dean was shocked would be the understatement of the century, but he forced himself to remain calm, if only for the little girl who clearly needed help. John had gone out on a job, and Sam had walked to a nearby store to grab some supplies.
“Ok, well where’s your mommy?”
“The monster…he-he…” you broke down into sobs, and Dean didn’t need to hear anything else.
Dean was usually used to waiting for John’s orders before doing just about anything, but somehow now he knew just what to do. Every instinct inside him screamed to help you from the moment he heard your voice.
He didn’t know then, but that instinct would follow him for the rest of his life.
Dean’s relationship with you was different than his with Sam. Dean had practically raised Sam, but he literally raised you. The older the boys got, the more John left them for hunts. And there was the age difference; he was only four years older than Sam, but Dean had already grown up and started hunting by the time you came into his life. And after John died, the two of you became closer than ever, and he took on his role as caretaker even more seriously.
So, needless to say, hunting wasn’t in the cards for you. Of course Dean taught you how to defend yourself, but he knew that once you started hunting, you’d be stuck in that life forever, and that wasn’t a choice he was going to let you make as a teenager.
A part of you always wanted to fight him on it, not because you thought you’d love hunting, but because your big brothers risked their lives on an almost-daily basis, and you wanted to be there to help them. However, it didn’t take long for you to realize that being on a hunt would just put them in more danger; Dean would be so worried about you that he wouldn’t keep his head on straight. You weren’t going to be the reason he got distracted and killed on a hunt.
So you stayed behind.
But that didn’t mean that you were always safe.
“Crowley I swear, if you touch one hair on her head-“
“Let me guess, they’ll never find the body?”
“Oh no, they will,” Dean’s fists were clenched so hard, his palms were going numb. “They’ll find it, and they’ll keep finding it. Little bits, everywhere, maybe I’ll even drop you in a couple of different states. I’ll cut you up nice and slow, it’ll take weeks before you’re dead, and that’s if I’m feeling generous enough to let you die at all.”
“My my my, someone is very protective about his little pet. However, your mummy should’ve taught you some manners, because you see…” Dean flinched when he heard your screams over the phone. “I don’t like to be threatened, squirrel.”
“Ok, ok!” Dean relented. Your screams stopped.
“Good. Now, here’s my ultimatum,” Crowley’s voice rose in anger, “If you ever want to see this little runt again, the first thing you’re gonna do, is drop the attitude, and show some respect!” Crowley cleared his throat, and returned to his easygoing, neutral tone. “After all, I am the king of hell. And then, after that, you’re going to stop meddling in my affairs. That’s not so bad, is it?”
Dean was about to throw out a snarky response when your voice broke in.
“Don’t listen to him, Dean. He’s just a liar, he’ll betray y-“ your desperate, frightened voice cut off with a high-pitched scream, and Dean could swear he heard Crowley laughing.
“Now now, darling, that’s not very nice. Name-calling is for children. Oh that’s right,” Crowley’s laughter started up again. “You are a child.”
“Stop it!” Not seeing what was going on was driving Dean insane. He could only imagine what Crowley was doing to you. “Alright, Crowley, you get what you want. Just let her go!”
The screaming stopped again.
“Now, that’s sweet, Dean. But I’m afraid I don’t exactly trust your word. So, I’m going have to keep your little rugrat here for a little longer, just to make sure you make good on your promise. Deal?”
“No no no, Crowley you can’t just-“
“I think we’re done here.”
The click that followed might as well have been an atomic bomb.
“We got a location.”
Dean had never jumped up that fast in his entire life.
“Finally, let’s go.”
“Dean, hold on,” Sam placed his hand out, stopping Dean in his tracks. “We don’t know how many demons are guarding it.”
“You know what, Sam? I don’t really care. There could be a thousand demons in there for all I care. She’s in there, so I’m going.” Dean brushed past Sam, who reluctantly followed him into the Impala.
“I’m just saying, it would be nice to have a plan.”
“I have a plan.” Dean peeled out of the driveway and sped along the road.
“The plan is get her back.”
You heard them before you saw them. It would be impossible not to; the screaming of demons and the thud as bodies hit the floor wasn’t exactly quiet.
However, when the door burst open, it wasn’t your brothers who came in.
Crowley rushed toward you, his hand outstretched to grab you and teleport you with him. A split second before his hand reached your shoulder, the demon blade whizzed past his ear and struck his arm, throwing him off balance and onto the floor. Before he could get back up, Dean was on him, not even bothering with the knife as he pounded on Crowley’s face. Sam rushed in after him, grabbing Dean by the shoulder and pulling him off.
“That’s enough, Dean! Just use the kni-“
Before either brother could move towards the demon blade, Crowley had disappeared.
“No!” Dean slammed his fist against the wall, and was about to do it again when he heard it.
“Dean?”
Never, not even when you were little, had Dean ever heard you sound so small; so fragile. He turned, his gaze instantly softening, his fists relaxing as he rushed to your side. He quickly untied the ropes holding you to a metal chair, and as soon as you were free you collapsed into his waiting arms.
“You’re ok,” Dean’s eyes stung as he gripped you tightly to him. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”
“Is she ok?” Sam stepped up behind Dean, and Dean reluctantly pulled away to check you for injuries.
There was a gash along your cheek, and he saw several cuts on your arms and legs, but what really worried him was the blood covering the front of your shirt.
“Baby, can you…” Dean touched the pool of blood dripping down your stomach. You lifted your shirt a few inches, and he saw a deep cut running along your ribs. Blood was still gushing freely from the cut, and Dean quickly removed his top layer of flannel, pressing it against the wound.
Sam flinched when you cried out, and Dean winced.
“I know, I know it hurts honey. I need you to hold it there, though.” You took the shirt from him and he nodded, “Yeah, good, press it tight.” He glanced around one more time to be sure no demons were coming, before he scooped you into his arms. You cried out again when he jostled you, and he tried to ignore you as he turned to Sam.
“You gotta watch my back, I’ve got her, but I don’t know if there are any more demons still here.”
Sam nodded, taking the demon blade.
“Alright, I’ll drive.”
“Do we need to take her to a hospital?” Sam glanced to the back of the Impala, where your head was resting in Dean’s lap as he held his shirt against your cut.
“I’m ok,” your voice was quiet, almost sleepy.
“We should take her in,” Dean insisted.
“It doesn’t look like she’s lost that much blood,” Sam hesitantly argued.
“Dean, I’m ok,” you turned your gaze from your injury to your big brother. “Really, just stitch me up. I’ll be fine.”
Dean relented hesitantly, mostly because he didn’t put it past Crowley to try to alert local authorities to all the bodies he’d left in his wake saving you. The last thing you needed was to be stuck in a hospital while Sam and Dean got arrested.
“Alright, ok. But you gotta stay awake, understand?”
You were silent for a few seconds, and when your voice lifted he could hear the tears you were trying to hold back.
“He wouldn’t let me sleep.”
Dean felt the white-hot anger rising in him, but he forced it down.
“You…but you were gone for three days.”
“I know. But ev-every time I tried to sleep…” you picked at one of the cuts, and Dean got the picture. He glanced up to see Sam gripping the steering wheel with all his might, his knuckles turning snow-white.
“I’m sorry,” Dean’s soft voice was only beat by the softness in his eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m so sorry. But you gotta stay awake just a little bit longer, I’m sorry.”
You knew he wasn’t just apologizing for that.
“Dean, it’s not your fault.”
He turned to look out the window, and you knew he didn’t believe you.
“Dean,” you tried to raise your voice, but it just sent you into a fit of coughing. His head whipped back to look at you, and he squeezed his hand under your head, lifting you up a little so you could breathe.
“Honey, don’t talk, don’t talk. You’re ok, just breathe.”
“Dean,” you took a deep breath, “Dean it’s not. It’s not your fault-“
“Shh, shh,” he insisted, eyes flitting nervously over your face. “Kiddo please, don’t talk.”
“Then say it.”
Dean sighed, and you knew he wouldn’t mean it, but you wanted him to say it anyway.
“It wasn’t my fault.”
“I’m sorry,” Dean winced when you sucked in a breath, trying desperately to stay still as he sewed you up.
“I’m ok,” you insisted.
“Ok, I’m done,” Dean tied off the last stitch, and you hesitantly stood and headed to your bathroom to shower off the blood that was all but covering you.
Dean sat on your bed while you were gone, staring down at the blood on his hands, disgusted but somehow unable to get up to wash it off.
He stayed there until you returned, a clean shirt and your pajama pants on. You stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. You tugged on his arm without speaking, and he followed you mechanically as you pulled him into your bathroom.
You turned on the sink water and guided his hands under the flow, rubbing his hands until they were clean and your blood was running down the drain. You handed him a soft towel, and he slowly dried his hands.
The two of you stood there in silence, unsure of whether to move or not. Then suddenly, the two of you moved in sync. He opened his arms just as you moved towards him, and he wrapped you into his arms. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, while the other rested on the small of your back. You felt his chin rest on the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.
“I’m so sorry,” he choked.
You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you knew that you could scream it til doomsday and Dean still wouldn’t believe it. So instead you said what he needed to hear.
“I’m ok.”
You weren’t the only one who hadn’t been able to sleep during your captivity, and you knew it. Dean looked horrible, his eyes dark and his hair greasy and sticking out in strange angles. You didn’t think you could convince him to eat or shower, not yet at least. He hadn’t left your side in the hour since you got back, and you figured he would want to watch over you while you slept.
So, if you couldn’t make him eat, you figured you at least knew a way to make him sleep.
You let him tuck you into your bed before grabbing onto his arm as he turned to go.
“Stay with me,” you insisted. He nodded and reached to grab a chair.
“No, with me,” you lifted a corner of the blanket. Dean didn’t speak, he just climbed in next to you and let you lean against his arm.
After a few minutes, Dean’s breathing evened out and you smiled.
He was your protector, always.
But maybe there was some ways that you could save him, too.
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waywardbabysis · 1 day
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Got the devil's trap on her thanks to a friend. She's looking soooo badass🔥🤗
(Added in some cool filtered pics that looked fire imo👌🏻)
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brightlilith · 3 months
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Dean: Tell me... are you single? *charming smile*
Y/N: Nop
Dean: Oh...
Y/N: You're really drunk, sweetie
*sam laughs*
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wandering-winchesters · 11 months
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Every Embrace
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 2,218
Summary: How sharing a bed with Dean Winchester started and where it is now.
Trigger Warnings: SPN level Violence, mostly fluff.
Requested: Yes, by Anonymous. “could you plzzzzzz make a fic where dean and Y/N share rooms or beds when on hunts and they aren’t dating but find comfort in cuddling and being near each other, especially dean. can he be the initiator and the sap for physical touch?”
A/N: Requests are open! Sorry for the lack of posts recently, life has been absolutely crazy! Hope to get back to posting regularly soon! <3 as always, please let me know what you think.
Masterlist
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The first time we shared a bed was out of necessity. Dean had been driving for 10 hours straight, all of us were exhausted, sore and just tapped out for the day. The Wisconsin motel had come up suddenly, the last one for another hour. Dean had parked the impala and I had volunteered to be the one to go in and get us a room. Upon checking in, they informed me that they only had one room left, with two beds. I accepted and paid for the room, returning to the car. Intending to let Sam and Dean have the beds and I’d stay in the impala. The second I had suggested this to them it was shot down quickly. 
Dean had immediately objected, stating that he’d stay in the impala and I could have his bed. Internally, I knew that wouldn’t happen. I helped them bring the bags in, letting them get settled. Sam quickly fell asleep on his bed, his clothes a rumpled mess. Exhaustion evident by the deep sleep he had been swallowed up by. Dean had hopped in the shower, mumbling something about needing to wash off the rock salt from hunting ghosts earlier in the day. I changed into comfier clothes, grabbing a pillow off of Deans bed and the blanket that I keep in my duffle at all times and quietly closed the motel door behind me. 
I opened the back door to the impala and tossed my pillow in, spreading the blanket down over the seat before I had climbed in and shut the door behind me. I laid down, wrapped myself tight with the blanket I had brought and settled in as best I could in the cramped back seat. I had almost fallen asleep, when the door by my feet was yanked open. I yelled, fully prepared to kill whatever had decided to disturb my rest. I quickly backed off once I realized it was Dean. 
He asked what I was doing and why I was in the impala when I was supposed to take the bed. I explained that I knew he was sore and I wanted him to have the bed. He refused. After a couple minutes of arguing, he grabbed me by my ankles and pulled me towards the open door. Mumbling that we could share the bed, he wasn’t about to allow me to sleep in the car. I tried to put up a fight, but he silenced me with a look. An exhausted, pleading look. I caved, and followed him inside. He had silently crawled into the bed, his back to the middle. I had carefully settled in next to him, mirroring his position, our backs had been to one another. That was until a nightmare had woken me up, a gasp had left my lungs and I had sat straight up. Dean had immediately noticed and his hand grabbed onto my own. He pulled me down against him, silently embraced me and lulled me back to sleep. 
-
The second time was out of fear, Dean terrified to let me out of his reach for more than a second. We had unknowingly stumbled upon a hoard of demons, only making it out thanks to Sam and Deans quick thinking. I had frozen in place, fear overwhelmed my senses which allowed one of the demons to throw me head first down a set of stairs. I had blacked out, a concussion another injury to add to my long list of hunting ailments. I had awoken to Dean shaking my shoulders, his face swimming before my eyes like the image seen inside of a kaleidoscope. His words had been silent and they had fallen on deaf ears, a temporary loss of hearing plagued my senses, only to return a short time later. He had pulled me into his arms, cradled me close against him and rushed me out to the impala. His grasp on me firm, but gentle. Once we returned safely to the motel, he ignored my every protest and cleaned me up to his satisfaction. 
The cut on my forehead and my splitting headache the only proof of the internal injury that was my concussion. He shushed me as he applied the bandage to my forehead, his eyes scanned my own for any hint of pain that he had not addressed. Once he was satisfied, he helped me down off the counter. A heavy silence had fallen between us, I was exhausted and simply didn’t have the energy for the argument that I was sure was going to follow. It didn’t however, he simply hugged me. His arms tight around my waist, his chin rested against the crown of my head. His breathing was escalated, sharp and had the edge of panic. I hugged him back, allowing his touch to calm me. I only let go when he pulled away, I had believed that was the last of it for the night. 
I bid him goodnight and began to head for the motel door. He stopped me with his words, insisting that it wasn’t a good idea for me to go sleep in a room by myself, the concussion reason enough for me to stay in there with him and Sam. I had hesitated, not wanting an argument, but also afraid of getting to used to the comfort that sharing a bed with him provided. We still hadn’t spoken about the first time it had happened, the way that we had woken up in the others arms. Once we had both woken up, we were quick to roll apart, making excuses for our unconscious behavior. 
The pleading look on Dean’s face was enough to convince me to stay that night. So for the second time, we climbed into the same bed. I faced the outside of the bed, my back to Dean’s. Yet this time, it didn’t last more than thirty seconds. He had immediately pulled me back against him, his arm wrapped snuggly around my waist. His chest pressed to my back, his chin cradled my the curve of my shoulder up to my neck. I couldn’t tell which one of us needed it more in that moment, his touch eased my pain. Little did I know, I eased his pain too. His was mental, mine was physical. We had both fallen asleep embracing the other, lulled into peaceful dreams by the other person. 
-
I can’t tell you when the third time turned to the fourth, the fourth to the fifth ,or the fifth to the sixth. It was a natural progression, as easy as breathing. A fresh breath of air on a foggy morning, easy and clear. Refreshing. The situations varied, but one thing never changed. Dean was always the one to initiate the physical contact. 
We no longer looked for multiple rooms at motels, the bed in the bunker that I had claimed began to go unused. Our need for the other person became so great that we could no longer ignore it. It was platonic, comforting and necessary for survival. The unknown ache that had settled over my should was slowly being eased. The need for another person, physical touch and emotional comfort had finally been fulfilled in a way that I never saw coming. If you had told me years ago when I stumbled upon the Winchester brothers that I would seek comfort in the eldest, I would have laughed in your face and called you crazy. However, now that I am here, shrouded in the safety that was Dean, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. The darkness of the room normally would have been anxiety causing, the nightlight that remained plugged in to the outlet of my room in the bunker is no longer necessary. 
I no longer fear that monsters that might be lurking on the edge of the darkness, I no longer fear the darkness within my own head. All of these have been driven far away from my every thought, all of that due to the man who’s arms I am wrapped in at this very moment. It had changed from the inability to sleep when we shared a bed, due to anxiety over waking him up or the fear of letting him in, to the inability to sleep without him next to me. I craved his touch and that scared me more than I thought physically possible.
“Whatcha reading, Y/N?” Dean asks, his bare feet silent as he enters the room. I glance up from the book I was scanning, my eyes darting over the low hanging sweatpants adorning his hips, his bare chest and shoulders only covered by the fabric of his unbuttoned flannel before locking with his own. I hum, considering my next words carefully. While I had been sitting with this book for the last hour, I had not been reading. I had been thinking, over analyzing every time we had shared a bed or grown closer over the last few months. The emotional connection that I had with the green eyed Winchester standing in front of me, something I never could have predicted.  “I, Uh-couldn’t really tell you,” I laugh, snapping the book shut and setting it on the table next to me. “Was thinking more than reading I guess.” I shrug my shoulders and try to brush off the look that he is giving me. One eyebrow raised, his lip caught between his teeth in the way that I know means he is debating on whether to tease me or let it go. He chooses the latter, remaining silent, but sitting down next to me on the couch. He nods and hands me a beer, that he had already taken the cap off of. Another thing that he had started doing for me, without my asking. It was little things like this that had caused me to question exactly what was going on between us, the silent things that he had started doing for me. 
“What had you so lost in thought?” He asks, his hand pulling my legs across his lap. He rubs his fingers gently into the muscle of my calf, working out a knot that I didn’t know was there until his firm touch brushed against it. I shrug again, taking a sip of my beer in order to delay my response a bit longer. He had been so touchy recently, not that I minded. It was there, a need for physical affection, I had buried it long ago. Yet the second his body brushed my own, it was roaring like a lion. Needy and vocal, rearing to be released from the internal cage I had locked it in so long ago. 
“You.” I mutter, the word leaving my mouth before I can even think to stop it. A flush washes over my face, my cheeks turning red. I can feel deans eyes on me, but I refuse to meet his gaze. I am paying close attention to a slight imperfection in the glass of the beer bottle. 
“What about me?” He asks, his hand squeezing my thigh gently. I hesitate, wondering if I really want to vocalize my next thought. 
“About how you’ve been so affectionate recently, I don’t mind it at all. I love it. But it confuses me, we haven’t talked about it. And I just, it leaves me to wonder, you know?” I say, the last words leaving my mouth an almost silent whisper. 
“Wonder what, sweetheart?” He asks, his tone flirtatious and cocky. It’s only then that I look up and I’m greeted by a grin plastered across his lips. He’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying my hesitation and embarrassment. I smack his arm playfully, my eyebrows tugging together in a look that tells him to knock it off. 
“Okay, okay.” He says, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Wonder, what Y/N?” He asks again, his tone returning to seriousness. 
“What does this mean De?” I sigh, resting my head against my hand and staring back at him. He turns to face me, his hands resting on each of my thighs. I can see that he’s choosing his next words carefully which causes anxiety to bubble up within me. 
“It doesn’t have to mean anything, everyone needs physical touch. It’s part of being human.” He says and my heart falls. The hope that had been building within me for something more with him quickly crumbles. 
“Or, if you wanted it to mean more than just friendly affection, that would be okay too.” My eyes snap back to his once more, confusion flashing over my features. He smiles softly at me, his eyes searching my own for an answer. My voice is lost to me, so I nod. The only response necessary to communicate how I felt at that moment. 
Even though we hadn’t labeled the things we both felt for the other, it was no longer a concern at that moment. Every embrace was enough to keep the other going. For now, being wrapped up in his arms and listening to his soft snores every night would be all that I need. Maybe one day that could change and we could delve deeper into the feelings that we shared. But for now, sharing a bed would be enough. 
tag list: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester
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