#and CAS JUMPS AT HIM so he lets go of dean

[justsomerandomfanfic]

The Touch Of An Angel - Castiel X GN Reader

Title: The Touch Of An Angel

Castiel X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Sam and Dean

WC: 2,224

Warnings: Reader is upset, bad day, cursing, banter, teasing, oblivious Castiel, nicknames, comfort, crying, confession, italics, mini angst, and fluff

The bunker’s heavy door groaned open, and you stormed in, fists clenched and a scowl plastered on your face. Sam and Dean exchanged a wary glance, wisely stepping aside as you plowed through. Today was one of those days where every little thing felt like sandpaper grating against your nerves, and by the time you had returned to the bunker with Sam and Dean, you were already a little more than halfway to snapping, exploding, imploding, and everything in between.

You couldn’t put your finger on a single reason for feeling this way. There were just small little things - small little frustrations - that had been slowly piling up; turning the entire day into a drawn-out test of patience and sound of mind, that, in the end, you failed.

And, honestly, you didn’t have to explain yourself to anyone. Once you had felt better, you’d make sure to apologize to the boys for snapping at them, but for now, you just needed some time alone and some space. 

Sam and Dean watched as you huffed all the way to your room, the aura of seething tension following behind you, thankfully leaving them; your bedroom door was then heard slamming shut. Both Dean and Sam let out deep breaths, their shoulders dropping in relief.

"Why is Y/N upset?" 

"Jesus!" Dean jumped at the unexpected appearance of Castiel, who stared down at the hallway, a confused little frown on his face. 

"Cas, you have to stop doing that," Sam breathed out, a hand over his heart. 

Dean nodded, "You're gonna give one of us a damn heart attack."

Castiel paused only for a moment, taking in the brothers' warnings with that signature head tilt and furrowed brow.

"They just had a long day, Cas," Sam sighed, shaking his head as he sat his gun down on a nearby table, "They might not be in the best mood for company."

"Yeah," Dean added, "Maybe just give ‘em some space, huh? For your sake. And ours." He muttered that last part out.

But, Castiel's gaze drifted back down the hallway to your room, where the silence hung thick in the air. He couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, his presence was precisely what you needed right now. With a determined set to his jaw, he turned and strode down the hall.

Dean threw his hands up in resignation, "Fine, go on then. Just don't say we didn't warn you."

Sam exchanged a look with his older brother, "Think he's got a chance of making it out of there without getting his head bitten off?"

Dean huffed, his hands on his hips, "Nah." Dean shook his head as Castiel disappeared down the hallway, muttering to Sam, “Well, good luck to him. I’m hittin’ the shower. Order us a pizza or somethin’, will ya, Sammy?” Sam just chuckled, pulling out his phone as Dean headed off.

Without hesitation - and without remembering to knock - Castiel opened the door and stepped inside. He paused when he saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, freshly showered and in your pajamas, shoulders slumped, head buried in your hands. 

Castiel’s expression softened as he looked at you, his instinct telling him that words wouldn’t be helpful right now. Moving cautiously, he lowered himself onto the bed beside you, leaving a comfortable amount of space between you two. He didn’t speak, didn’t even make a sound, just sat there quietly.

After a moment, you peeked out from behind your hands, just enough to glance at him, and though you didn’t say a word, the tiniest hint of relief flickered in your eyes.

Silently, he opened his arms out to you. The gesture was simple, unassuming, but it was so very him. Castiel didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from you. He was just there.

You let out a breath as the weight of the day began to catch up with you. The whole day, nothing but thing after thing that pushed down on your shoulders and weighed heavily on your mind and soul. You were tired…

Without overthinking, or even thinking at all, you leaned into him, and immediately you felt at peace. Your arms circled around his waist, fingers squeezing the fabric of his trench coat. It was soft against your cheek, smelling faintly of rain and something else that was just so Castiel; you took in a deep breath. His arms wrapped around you, firm yet gentle; you almost felt like you were going to cry. 

Castiel’s hand moved slowly, tentatively, brushing along your back in soothing circles as if he was still unsure whether such a human comfort was helping - but it was. You opened your mouth to speak, to tell him, to try and explain, but he beat you to it.

“You don’t have to speak,” He murmured, his deep voice low and comforting, rumbling through his chest, “But you are not alone.”

The simplicity of his words made your chest tighten, a lump forming in your throat. You nodded against him, letting a few tears escape - tears you’d been holding back for too long.

Castiel didn’t flinch, didn’t rush you, just held you as long as you needed. His presence said all the things words couldn’t: I see you. I’m here. And you are safe.

Your arms tightened around him, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his trench coat. The tears that had been freely flowing moments ago now began to slow, leaving only little sniffles. You let out a deep exhale. 

Castiel held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. And then, just as you started to pull yourself back together, he continued to surprise you. His hand, that had been soothingly running circles on your back, lifted to run gently through your hair. You leaned into the touch, rubbing your cheek against the coat, and his chest. 

But, it was his next action that stole your breath. Without a word, Castiel leaned down and pressed his lips softly against the top of your head. The gesture was light, fleeting, but again, there. He lingered there for just a moment, before pulling back slightly, his hand still resting in your hair, his other secure around you.

“You are stronger than you know,” He murmured, his voice almost a whisper, “But, if you even feel as if you can not carry all the weight, just pray for me. And I will be there.”

And in that moment, you believed him. Of course you believed him. Completely. Whole-heartedly. 

Slowly, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, meeting his eyes. The look in his eyes, the intensity, it made your heart stutter; a mix of gratitude and something deeper pooling in your chest.

You had always felt something for Castiel, ever since the moment you first met him, when your eyes first found his. With every lingering glance, every soft-spoken word, every small act of care and kindness he offered without hesitation sent your heart soaring and burning.

It was the way he always seemed to gravitate toward you. The way he’d join you for the simplest things - sitting together in comfortable silence while you read, sharing late-night cups of tea in the bunker kitchen, or joining you for one of your movie nights. They were little things, moments that could almost be explained away as friendship - but they weren’t. Not really.

There was just something about those moments, something unspoken but undeniably there. It lingered in the way he would lean a little closer when you spoke, in the way hs hand would brush yours just a second too long when passing something, and in the way he looked at you like you were the most beautiful of all of God’s creations; which was quite a feat, since before he met you, he thought all of God’s creations were beautiful.

“Thank you, Cas,” You said softly, your voice trembling just slightly. You paused, searching for the right words, “For being here, For… Always supporting me.”

Castiel tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in that curious, endearing way of his. “You don’t need to thank me,” He replied earnestly. “Caring for you is-” He hesitated, as if searching for the right human phrase. “It’s important to me.”

Your heart gave another flutter, and before you could even lose your nerve, you leaned forward and pressed a quick, featherlight kiss to his cheek. When you pulled back, your bashfulness caught up with you, and you immediately dropped your gaze, your hands slipping from around him and curling into your lap.

“I- uh, sorry. I just-” You stammered, your cheeks growing hotter by the second.

But Castiel didn’t move away. He didn’t lash, didn’t scold you, nor did he dash out of the room screaming for his life. He didn’t even look confused or uncomfortable. Instead, he blinked, his expression softening even further. And a small, almost subtle smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“There is no need to apologize,” He spoke, the warmth in his voice made your heart feel like it might burst; he brushed your hair behind your ear. “You are extraordinary.”

Meanwhile, Sam and Dean sat sprawled on the couch, waiting for the pizza Sam called to arrive, half-watching the TV as a cheesy action flick played in the background. They both turned when they heard two sets of footsteps, and their jaws practically hit the floor.

You and Castiel entered the room, your arms casually looped through his, a bright, radiant smile lighting up your face - one they hadn’t seen in far too long. Castiel, for his part, looked uncharacteristically relaxed, his usual stoicism replaced by a faint, content expression.

“Ooooh, one of my favorites!” You exclaimed, your eyes lightning up as you spotted the movie playing on the screen. Without hesitation, you let go of Casitel’s arm and jumped onto the couch, plopping yourself down with a cheerful bounce. “Sorry for snapping at you both, by the way.”

The brothers just stared at you for a moment, watching as you completely got lost in the movie before you, then you looked at Castiel, then back at you; their shock was almost comical. Dean leaned forward, squinting at the angel as if he were trying to solve some sort of puzzle. Which he actually was terrible at, Sam was the puzzle man.

“Okay,” Dean started, gesturing between the two of you. “What the hell did you do, Cas? To make Y/N look like… Like that?”

“Like what?” You asked innocently, grabbing a spare pillow and hugging it to your chest, eyes never leaving the screen.

“Like you just won the lottery or something.” Sam said, clearly just as baffled as Dean.

Castiel tilted his head slightly, “Y/N didn’t win the lottery,” He spoke, sort of confused, “I just listened.” He said simply, as though that explained everything, in which it hadn’t.

Dean raised an eyebrow as you went straight back into your movie, “Listened? That’s it? Did we miss somethin’? Did you use, like, angel magic or-?”

“Dean,” Sam interrupted, shaking his head, he was beginning to see what could’ve possibly happened here. “Maybe Cas just has the touch.”

Dean sputtered out a laugh, shaking his head as he turned back to the TV, the movie now only half-holding his attention. “The touch of an angel.” He teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

Castiel furrowed his brow, tilting his head in that way he always did when he was trying to figure out what Dean was saying. “I am an angel.” He stated plainly, his tone serious.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle harder at Castiel’s words, while Sam threw his hands up in the air. “Yeah, Cas, we know! It’s just an expression!” Dean barked, grinning.

Castiel’s gaze shifted between brothers, still clearly trying to piece it together. “Then why say it if it’s already evident?” 

Sam shook his head, “Never change, Cas, never change.” He muttered.

Dean turned to Castiel with a grin that was nothing short of mischievous. “You might as well stay for dinner, Cas. You helped them - hell, you made them smile like that. We could probably use your ‘angelic touch’ around here more often.”

Castiel blinked, processing, “I… Do not need to eat.” He replied, his tone puzzled but polite.

Dean waves him off with a smirk. “I know, but maybe you should stick around just in case. You know, in case Y/N gets upset again,” He teasing words earned him a hard punch in the arm from you, “Ow, okay, sorry.” He rubbed his arm.

Castiel’s brows furrowed once more, his gaze flickering between you and Dean, “I… I will stay,” He said after a moment, “If it is what they wish.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “I’d love for you to stay, Cassie,” You said, the nickname slipping out before you could even stop it. You reached over the back of the couch, gently taking his hand in yours and pulling him around to sit beside you. “You can watch one of my favorite movies with me. It’s really good. The main actor actually bought the horse he rode in the movie.”

“I will stay then.” Castiel spoke, not even minding that your hand was still interlocked with his as he settled. “I like horses.”

~~~

Main Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist

[scottstiles]

insane insane dean immediately knows something is wrong with cas at the end of 11x10 and spends all of into the mystic obliviously pining for him and acting weird when he's around even before the creepy shoulder touch because hE KNOWS THATS NOT HIS CAS AND IT LITERALLY JUST HAPPENED and the very SECOND he thinks its cas again dean very visibly shoots heart/hope eyes like daggers, witness masterpiece episode 11x18 hell's angel:

ugh im normal he's normal its ok

[lostalioth]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

→ premise: there existed no such cricumstances in which dean doesnt want your lips against his. bloodied, bruised, even with broken bones, a kiss from his girl makes it all better.

→ pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: tw: blood, fluff, but some sort of instense making out, established relationship, descriptions of blood and injuries, blood in mouth, nicknames [baby, sweetheart, my girl], reader is described a bit to have anxiety

→ a/n: as always i hope dean isn’t too out of character as i have never written for him! enjoy my loves :) and sorry its short.

A hunt had gone south they got the monster and it was done but Dean was injured, they were headed back to the bunker. That was all Sam spit out over the phone, normally you appreciated his ability to get straight to the point. Currently you were cursing it as he hung up shortly after cause he was the one driving back. You had a million and one questions running through your head and more than half of them weren’t good.

This was the part of the boys going off hunting and you staying back that you hated the most. When one of them got hurt or something went wrong and all you could do was sit there, a chill running down your spine as your blood boiled in your veins, anxiously pacing the living room, trying to not let yourself jump to the worst conclusions which you regularly failed to do.

You used to go on hunts with them and instead of you currently being the one riddled with anxiety, it was Dean. Once the two of you pulled your heads out of your asses (as Sam would say) and realized you’ve had feelings for each other for years, you got together. Being officially together seemed to make Dean's protective nature increase tenfold. He was even more terrified to lose you now than before. He began fussing over you whenever you'd get even the slightest scarpe or bump on a hunt. He would glue himself to your side the whole duration. Forcing you to normally stay back in the motel room when the hunt turned into a more dangerous situation than dean cared to put you in.

You loved Dean but it began to get a bit too tedious to deal with and even Sam made a comment on how overprotective he was being. In an attempt to make hunts go easier and ease your boyfriend's anxiety, once you all situated yourselfs in the bunker you suggested to him that you go out on hunts less, especially when they could now take Cas. Dean jumped at the suggestion but you couldn't blame him.

“I think that's a great idea baby” he said with a kiss to your forehead.

You still helped out, researching things when Sam needed the help, going through old books and files in the library, patching them up when they’d come back with cuts and bruises. You hadn't realized just how jittery you'd be however stuck in the bunker when he was out and especially when they went on far away hunts.

They'd go to the hospital when things were really bad, so you knew if the boys were on their way back then it couldn’t be too bad. The reminder did nothing to sooth your racing thoughts, your heart thumping so hard you could practically hear it pounding in your ears. You didn't know just how long you've been pacing back and forth, too afraid to look up at the clock and realize it's only been a few minutes since Sam called.

You don't hear the sound of baby pulling into the garage, your head is too clouded as you were damn near about to wear a grove down into the old floors. The sound of a door shutting loudly and two sets of heavy footsteps are heard down the hallway. Spinning so quickly on your feet you nearly lose your balance you turn to face the noise. Watching as the brothers emerge from the dark hall, Dean's arm rests on Sam's shoulder almost using him like a human crutch. You let out a small gasp making them stop and both of their eyes snap up to yours, weather you gasped in surprise at the state of your boyfriend or in relief you can’t tell.

“Hi sweetheart, We’re home” Dean tilts his head, his voice laced with his usual sarcasm and deep tone. He pushes off of Sam, clearly able to at least stand on his own, slowly making his way over to you a small limp in his step.

In the blink of an eye you’re rushing into his arms, your soft hands grabbing ahold of his beaten up face and crashing your lips against his. He grunts out a “fuck” in surprise or pain the word dying in his throat turning into a noise as his eyes fall shut and he grabs ahold of your hips. With a sharp tug he pulls your body as close as he can to his, his hands sliding up your sides. His bloodied lips against your plush ones, kissing you like a man starved, a kiss you’ve come accustomed to when he comes home from longer hunts. “Missed you” he hums in a hushed tone into the kiss for only you to hear, making your racing heart only speed up. His blood flows into your opened mouth as the kiss goes on, the metallic taste on your tongue foreign but you were far too relieved he was back in one piece to care about the blood coating your tongue.

Any pain Dean felt after the whole ordeal and from the bumpy ride back to the bunker seemed to fade from his body. He could care less about his brother's presence still in the room or the blood still dripping from his face and that covered his clothes or his split lip. It felt as if all the bruises that were forming on his body were already being kissed away as your soft lips slid against his. The taste of your mouth overcoming the taste of the blood in his, your scent calming his body, reminding him he's finally home again. Your body grounding him.

A rough deep cough stops the moment making the two of you reluctantly pull away, lips swollen and parted as you catch your breath.

“Before this gets any more R-rated maybe we should patch him up and you know clean him up” Sam suggested with a small light hearted chuckle as he walks off to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. You were grateful you remembered just yesterday that it had needed to be restocked. “Sorry Sammy” Dean calls after him, you turn your head away and follow up with a “Sorry not sorry” down the hall after him making a small smirk grow on your boyfriend's face.

Once he's out of eye sight, Dean grabs ahold of your face by lightly squeezing your cheeks and turns your head back to face him. Leaning down to begin softly kissing you again, groaning against your lips when the pain in his body begins to return.

“Who needs a first aid kit, all i need is my girl's kisses” He mumbled softly against your mouth, making you break out into a smile. A small tear slips down your cheek, your breath returning to your lungs and the chill in your spine fading as relief finally settled over your body knowing he's okay.

→ a/n: if you enjoyed please reblog or send me some dean requests id love to write more for him!

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

My Angel

Sam and Dean & teen!reader, Castiel & teen!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you’re a daughter figure to team free will, and you have time/location travel powers. One time you accidentally time travel back too far, and you have to face TFW before they met you.

Warnings: panic attack, then pretty much fluff

“Hey Sam?” You knocked on Sam’s door softly—no answer. You slowly pressed the door open, peaking in and seeing Sam fast asleep on his bed. You took a step back, pulling the door closed as silently as possible; you’d wanted his help to study for your test, but he hadn’t been sleeping much lately while he dealt with all the hunters now living in the bunker, so you wanted to let him sleep.

Next stop was Dean—but he was out on a hunt with Mary. Finally, you wandered around looking for Cas. You found him in the library poring over lore.

“Cas?” You approached him hesitantly, a notebook hugged to your chest. “Do you think you could—“

“Not now, Y/N,” Cas huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I need to finish this.”

“Oh.” You bit your lip. “Do you think maybe later you could—“

“Not now!” He snapped. “I’m a little busy trying to keep your brother from dying!”

You snapped your mouth shut, turning on your heel and leaving without another word.

“No, wait…” Cas’s regret came a split second too late. “I’m sorry!”

…

You clicked the lock shut on your room door, tossing your notebook on your desk before dropping down on your bed.

“Calm down calm down calm down,” you whispered to yourself over and over, rubbing your face and a few stray tears. The pile of homework on your desk already had you panicked, and you hadn’t been prepared for Cas to yell at you like that. Not only that, but on top of the homework you had a huge test, and you knew you weren’t ready.

Your handle on your emotions had been slipping lately due to all the stress, and with that came a lack of control on your powers. That had led to a lot more “incidents” lately—usually you’d just get transported to a few minutes in the past, or a mile or two away, but you were always scared that if your emotions got big enough, there would be bigger jumps.

“Stop it,” you willed your pounding heart to no avail. Your breath was coming in quicker and quicker gasps, and it was all you could do to sit up and try to keep the room from spinning. “It’s ok, you’re fine you’re fine you’re fine…”

You closed your eyes tightly as the panic took over and your head started to pound—a sure sign that you were traveling.

“No no no,” you whimpered. “Not now, just stop, just stop!”

The pain grew and your breath still hadn’t returned. You opened your eyes, but everything was still spinning, and black spots were flying around the edges of your vision. You tried to stand, but something sharp smacked against your head. The darkness spread, faster and faster and—

And nothing.

…

“What the heck?”

A man’s voice was the first thing you heard as you tried to force your eyes open through the pain that pounded behind them.

“Sam! Dean! Get in here!”

You groaned, blinking your blurry vision away. Dark wood lined the floor, and as you forced yourself to sit up, a room came into focus—an old couch slumped in the corner, an oak desk sat right next to you. An old man was crouched in front of you, a gun in his hand—

“Bobby?” You breathed. You’d seen the man in pictures before, but you’d never met him.

The gun twitched.

“How do you know who I am?” Bobby demanded.

“What’s going on?” Dean’s voice caught your attention—he rushed through the doorway, followed by Sam, and both froze at the sight of you. “Who the heck is that?”

The boys were younger than you’d ever seen them, by a few years at least, and you knew from what they’d told you about Bobby’s death that you must have gone back at least six or seven years—long before you’d met the boys.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Bobby insisted, cocking the gun in his hand. “And I’d better find out in the next five seconds.”

“Ok ok wait!” You insisted, holding up your hands. Your head was pounding—you’d probably hit it on the desk when you traveled, and you could swear that you felt blood running down the side of your face. “I’m…I’m from the future.”

Three blank stares.

“Right,” Bobby scoffed. “And I’m Bill Clinton.”

“It’s true!” You insisted. “I-I have powers, but I jumped back too far.”

“Do you expect us to believe—“

“It’s true.” Dean’s protest was cut off with a flutter of wings and the deep voice of Castiel. “She’s telling the truth, she’s from the future. I can sense it.”

“So what, she can just jump around time and—“

“No,” Castiel insisted. “No, no one should have that power.” His eyes flashed blue. “I need to take care of this problem.” He took one step forwards, but Dean jumped over to block him.

“Whoa whoa, hey, easy,” Dean insisted. “She’s just a kid, what are you gonna do?”

“She shouldn’t exist,” Castiel argued. “She’s dangerous.”

“Cas?” You whimpered, backing away from him.

“How do you know me?” Cas demanded, stiffening.

“We…you…” you swallowed. “We met…or, I guess, we will meet…in a few years. You try to help me control my powers. All three of you do.”

“Three?” Bobby asked, but you kept your mouth shut.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Castiel continued. “I would’ve killed you—I should’ve—you’re dangerous.”

“And-and you’re a lot different here than you are in the future.” Your lip quivered as you spoke, still keeping as much distance from Cas as you could. He wasn’t the gentle, caring Cas that you knew—he truly looked like the dangerous angel you knew he could be.

“What are we gonna do with her?” Sam spoke up. “Shouldn’t she go back to her own time?”

“I still don’t think she should be in any time,” Cas argued, his hand twitching—probably for his angel blade.

“Please.” A tear dripped onto your hand, and you wrapped your arms around yourself—despite the familiar faces, you felt surrounded by strangers. “Please, I-I just want to go home. I didn’t mean to come here, I didn’t mean to—“ you noticed Castiel’s hand relaxing slightly, and you took a deep breath. “Cas, you…in the future, you’re like a father to me. And I just want to get back to my Cas, I just…please help me get home.”

Cas took another step forward, and Dean didn’t stop him. You flinched when Cas lifted his hand, but he just placed it gently on your shoulder.

“I…I think maybe I can get you home,” Cas said slowly. “But you need to be more careful. If you jump like this again, you could disrupt the flow of time.”

You nodded. “I understand.”

“Ok.” Cas’s eyes softened. “Then let’s get you home.” He pressed two fingers to your forehead. There was a faint pulse of blue before your world went dark.

…

“Y/N? Y/N!”

You jerked upright to the sound of a harsh knock at your door. You blinked hard, rubbing your eyes, then your face—the cut on your head was healed.

You got to unsteady feet before unlocking your door and swinging it open to see Cas, looking frazzled and worried.

“Cas!” Cas staggered back in surprise when you through yourself into his arms.

“Are you ok?” He demanded, holding you close.

“I missed this you.” Your voice came out muffled against Cas’s trench coat.

“I…you what?” Cas asked.

“Never mind.” You sniffled, pulling away. “I’m just glad to see you.”

“N/N, I’m sorry,” Cas insisted. “I-I didn’t mean to yell at you earlier, I just…I guess I was feeling stressed.”

“It’s ok,” you insisted.

“No it wasn’t,” Cas argued. “I’m here for you, for whatever you need.”

“I think maybe school needs to take a back burner,” you said slowly. “Can you help me…with my powers?”

“I did say whatever.” Cas smiled. “So let’s get started.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely

[gilverrwrites]

Hi

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

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

Rating: M/18+

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

Request Info | Masterlist | Ko-Fi

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

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

Dean Winchester

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“N-“

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

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

“I…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Sam Winchester

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why is it wrong?”

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

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

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

Castiel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[casdeans-pie]

Dean surviving the dumb fight with the vampires in the barn after Cas suddenly flew in and healed him before it was too late. But Dean is totally unaware that Cas actually time travelled to save him and he should really still be dead.

Cas was given archangel levels of power by Jack after he rescued him from the Empty and then he willingly burned them all up jumping back and changing fate so significantly - by saving Dean.

Now he'll be forever at low angel power again, like being permanently on battery saver mode.

Cas was warned not to, but he took the timeline and tore it into itty bitty pieces because he couldn't let Dean die.

Jack is equally both mad and proud of his dad for saving Dean, even if he kind of messed with the fabric of reality and shredded his own powers so badly.

OG Death is back from his vacation (he didn't die, you can't kill Death) and he threatens Cas that this is The Very Last Time he's letting Dean Winchester escape dying, as a thank you for finally getting rid of Chuck. (He's secretly pleased Dean survived.)

So now Cas is really pushing for Dean to retire from hunting. He's even hanging around the bunker more, eating and drinking and sleeping even though he's still technically an angel, and Dean has no idea why. And Cas would rather go back to the Empty than tell him what he did and what he sacrificed to bring him back.

And that he'd do it all again.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Every Fucking Time

Summary: You want to help Dean, but he knows you can't.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Lots of angst! Smut! Unprotected PinV sex. Slightly rough sex. Dean being an asshole. Dean being a broken boy. Hurt/comfort.

Pairings: Dean x Reader (You)

Word Count: 2,737

A/N: So, I just rewatched 13x18, Bring 'Em Back Alive, and the scene at the end never fails to break my heart. I just wanna make Dean feel better! 😫 But it got me thinking about how unlikely Dean would be to accept that help, and how his anger might manifest. Anyway, this is what spilled out of my brain as a result.

A/N 2: The title is a reference to Dean's line, "Every time we get close, it all falls apart. Every frickin' time." I have changed it to the non-network TV version because we all KNOW that's actually what Dean said.

You just wanted to help. You needed to help. You needed to make it better for him. 

Dean had slipped back home through the rift barely an hour earlier, talking about the apocalypse world Charlie and how he'd left her and Ketch behind, promising he would come back with reinforcements.

Then you, Cas and Sam had given him the bad news; no one could go back, you couldn’t send reinforcements. Gabriel was gone, taking all his archangel grace with him.

“So if it’s gone, then that means that we can’t open that door again. If we can’t open the door, then I shoulda never come back!” He'd shouted.

He'd tried to tamp down the rage and anger that simmered just behind his forced calm. Nevertheless, it exploded out of him making you all jump.

“Son of a bitch!” He'd screamed, sending books and papers crashing to the ground as he swept them from the table. “Every time!”

You could feel his frustration and pain like it was your own as his voice dropped, defeated and broken for the millionth time. “Every time we get close, it always falls apart…every fuckin’ time.”

When he walked away, looking as though the weight of the world was once again on his shoulders, you’d tried to follow after him, but Sam had grabbed your arm gently, holding you back.

“Leave him for now, Y/N. He needs time.”

You should have listened to Sam, but you could feel Dean’s pain like a lance in your side and you were desperate to heal him. So less than an hour later, you went looking for him. But he wasn’t in his room, or the Dean cave. The kitchen was empty and so was the garage. 

You finally found him in the infirmary. He was sitting on one of the beds, sewing together a nasty looking bullet wound.

“Dean!” You called out worriedly as you rushed down the steps. He glanced up at you but then went back to stitching himself up. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d been shot?” You reprimanded him.

He shrugged his unwounded shoulder. “No big deal. Ketch patched me up on the go, just didn’t have time to sew it up properly.”

You watched him silently for a moment, wincing every time the needle pierced his inflamed skin. He’d taken his shirt off so he could tend to his wound, and you couldn’t help but take an inventory of his other numerous scars. Jagged knife cuts, more round bullet holes, and a few waxy looking old burns, all marred his otherwise perfect, lightly freckled torso.

Some of the scars were very faded, barely noticeable, while others were newer; some of them were still red and angry looking. They were a patchwork of pain - a tapestry of more than thirty-five years of hunting, fighting, falling, getting up, and fighting again. 

It made you exhausted just to see it; it made your bones ache.

You stepped a little closer to him, but he kept you at arm’s length with an aura of silent, repressed anger that you could practically see pulsing off of him.

You wanted to help him so badly.

“Dean, I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, not looking up from his work. “No, let’s not. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

You let out a small sigh. Of course you don’t. You thought with a flash of frustration.

You were quiet another minute as he finished the last few stitches. Then you smiled a little, trying a different tactic. “So, there was a Charlie over there? That’s amazing. What was she like? Was she the same as our Charlie?”

Dean didn’t answer right away. He snipped the thread he was using and tossed the small silver scissors back into the first aid kit he had open on the bed beside him. He took some rubbing alcohol and poured it onto a gauze pad, holding it to his wound and sucking in a breath through gritted teeth before answering.

“Yeah sure, she was like our Charlie.” His voice was a growl of pain. “She was a badass, determined to fight injustice, sticking up for her friends, risking her life for them. And yeah, just like our Charlie, I left her on her own to be butchered.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “Dean that’s not true…you didn’t-”

“Seriously, Y/N. Just fucking don’t.”

You were silenced again, watching him clean up and toss the bloody bandages into the trash as he stood up from the bed. He reached for his flannel and tried to put it on, slightly hampered by his newly bandaged shoulder. You stepped forward to help him with it, and when it was on, but still unbuttoned, you slid your hands inside, down over his ribs.

You kissed his chest gently, and felt him twitch slightly. 

“Y/N.” He said quietly and you could hear the warning in his tone. 

You knew he was in a bad place, and the two of you had only recently begun to move your relationship out of friendship and into something more, so sex was still new between you. But you felt the overwhelming, screaming need to help him, to hold him close and let him feel your love shine through. You’d been in love with him for a long time, but you’d never told him. You suspected he didn’t love you back, though you hoped he might someday.

For now, though, you’d settle for being a soft place to land, if he’d just let you.

“Dean.” You said softly, kissing his chest again. “Let me help you.”

He pushed you back and turned away. “I don’t need help.”

You persisted, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “We all need help from time to time, Dean.”

“Y/N!” He said again, louder this time, his earlier anger resurfacing. “I told you, I’m fine. Just drop it.”

But you couldn’t. You wanted to help him, whether he accepted it or not.

You moved around him, so you stood in front of him again. “Dean, you’re not fine. I just wanna help you.”

Dean scoffed. “Well you can’t fucking help me, Y/N. You can’t make it better.”

“I could try.” You cupped his cheek, but he pulled it out of your grasp, turning his head. You stood on tiptoe to try and kiss him. “Let me try, Dean. Let me try to help you.”

Dean grabbed your wrists from around his neck, glaring down at you, eyes blazing. “You fucking can’t, do you not hear me? You can’t help me, no one can help me! Because all I do is fuck up; all I do is leave my friends and family to die. And fucking you isn’t gonna change that; unless you have some kind of magical cunt that can open portals to another dimension, you can’t fucking help me!”

You felt your stomach drop, and an immediate ache started, high in your gut, clenching your insides and making you feel short of breath. You stepped back from Dean and swallowed convulsively, trying not to let go of the tears that clogged your throat. But it was a losing battle and they were soon coursing down your cheeks.

You nodded slightly. “K, yeah.” You didn’t know what else to say, turning away just as remorse began dawning in Dean’s emerald eyes. “Sam was right…I shouldn’t have come.”

You took off, bounding up the stairs as Dean called out to you. You ignored him, desperate to get away before you collapsed completely. 

You heard Dean following you, chasing you down the bunker hallway and you sprinted away. You got to your room just in time to slam the door and lock it just as Dean skidded to a halt outside.

He banged on the door, but you just moved over to your desk, dropping into the chair and swiping at your tears over and over, unable to make them stop.

“Y/N, come on! Open the door. Look, I didn’t mean that, okay? I just...just let me in.” He banged again. When you wouldn’t open it, he just kept banging. Finally he yelled at you through the wood.  “You know, I can just break down the fucking door! Let me in!”

He slammed his hammer like fist against the door again, rattling it in its frame. You jumped up and ripped open the door just as he was about to start pounding again. So his fist was raised and his features were twisted in a snarl as you looked up at him. But you were calm, even though tears still leaked from your eyes.

“Enough.” You said quietly. “Look, I shouldn’t have kept bugging you, you made it very clear you didn’t want me there and that I couldn’t be of any help. So, it’s fine. I’ll leave you alone now, and you can please stop raging at me and trying to smash down my door.”

You swallowed tightly and then nodded at him. “Goodnight.”

You closed your door softly and walked back to slump onto the end of your bed. You dashed your tears away as quickly as they fell, trying to dash away Dean’s angry words too, but failing miserably. 

After nearly half an hour your tears finally dried up and you decided to get ready for bed, sadness and hurt making you slow and sluggish. As you pulled your big sleep shirt on over your head, however, a noise caught your attention just outside your door. 

You walked softly to the door in your bare feet, cracking it open an inch to look out into the hallway. What you saw made brand new tears cloud your vision.

Dean was sitting across from your door, his back against the wall. His knees were bent slightly with his elbows resting there and his feet planted on the floor. His eyes were shut, his head leaning back against the wall with tears streaming silently down his cheeks. Or almost silently. As you watched, his face spasmed with pain and his breath seemed to catch in his throat, making the muffled sound you’d heard; it sounded like his pain was choking him.

You opened the door wider and Dean sensed you, his eyes springing open. At first it seemed like he might bolt, but then he shook his head as he stared at you. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” His voice was a harsh whisper. “I swear to god, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

He thumped his head back against the wall twice. “I just break things. Everything.” He punctuated the word by slamming his elbow back into the wall as well, hard enough that you were worried he’d break the bone.

You hurried forward to kneel on the floor in front of him, squeezing in between his knees. You pulled his hands into yours as you tried to reassure him. “Dean, that isn’t true. You don’t break everything; you fix things, save things. It’s in your DNA to try to right all the wrongs in the world, but sometimes you just can’t.”

He stared at you intently and once again you found yourself desperate to try to ease the bottomless ache you could see in his mossy green eyes.

His voice was barely a whisper as he reached out to run his thumb across your cheekbone. “Did I break us?”

You took a deep breath. “Your words hurt me.” He closed his eyes and nodded. “But…”

You were quiet a moment before deciding it was worth taking a chance, so you just said it. “But I love you, and my love doesn’t break that easily, even if my heart does.”

You took his hand from your cheek and held it against your chest, over your heart. “Not ever. No matter what the future holds, my love is unbreakable, even when you try to smash it to pieces with both hands.”

Dean’s expression was closed off, and you couldn’t see through it to his thoughts. After a moment he shook his head. “Don’t love me, sweetheart. I can’t…I can’t protect you if you love me. Something will come and take you from me - use you to hurt me somehow.” He closed his eyes again and repeated his words from earlier in the evening. 

“Every time I get close, it always falls apart.” He opened his eyes slowly and stared intently into your soul. “Every fucking time.”

He gazed at you for a long time, and you let him, hoping he could see that you weren't afraid to love him, and you weren't going to be scared away.

Suddenly he reached out to yank you into his lap and slam his mouth down on yours. You gasped into the kiss and then whimpered as he clutched you tight to him.

He pulled away from you, breathing harshly. “Am I forgiven? Because I was such a liar. I do need you.” He dipped his head to nip at your pulse point and flick his tongue against your salty skin. “I need you so fucking bad.”

You nodded, flushed and aching for his touch. “You’re forgiven.”

He crushed your lips with his once again, standing up without letting you out of his arms. He pushed you backwards through your bedroom door and closed it with a soft click, as he yanked your t-shirt off over your head, getting you naked in one quick motion.

You pushed his open flannel down his arms, being careful not to aggravate his newest injury. You fumbled with the button on his jeans for a moment, hands trembling, as he palmed your breast and squeezed, pressing his hard, blunt fingertips into your yielding flesh.

You threw your head back as he pulled your nipple into his mouth and bit it gently. You sank your hands into his short hair, tugging sharply and moaning loudly. He pulled away, just far enough that he could spin you around to face the wall. With a hand against your upper back, he bent you over slightly and lifted your arms, so that you braced them against the brick.

Then he raised your right leg, wrapping his forearm over top of it and spreading you open. You felt the knuckles of his other hand brush over your dripping wet core as he unbuttoned his jeans. Seconds later, you felt his tip pressing against your entrance and then you let out a scream of pleasure as he slammed into you hard and fast.

As he fucked up into you, he pulled you open even wider, reaching down with his free hand to rub circles into your clit with his calloused fingertips.

Eventually he dropped your leg, and pushed your feet apart while he pulled your hips back towards him. He never faltered or slowed his pace, just manhandling you into the positions he wanted.

You were bent at a ninety degree angle now, hands still braced against the wall, with your head hanging between them as Dean continued to pound into you so deep that he was almost lifting you off the floor with each thrust. 

He clamped his hand on the back of your neck, using it as leverage to piston his hips forward like a jackhammer. He tilted your pelvis forward slightly and suddenly he was perfectly, relentlessly hitting your g-spot over and over until you were screaming out his name and crashing into a hard wall of pleasure. You shook with your climax, but Dean didn’t stop, riding you through your first orgasm and into several more.

Your throat was hoarse from shouts of pleasure before Dean finally cursed loudly, shouting your name and surging into your body. With one last driving push,  you could feel him spurting into you hot and thick. He rocked his body against yours a few more times as his cock continued to twitch inside you.

Finally he stilled, both of you breathing harshly now, bodies slick with sweat. He laid his chest against your back, his arm still wrapped around your waist, keeping you close, keeping himself locked inside your slick warmth.

“Y/N.” You could hear the thick emotions even in his soft whisper. “You know, you save me. Every time I think I can’t recover, every time I think I won’t get back up. You make me think I can. You tell me I will.” 

He paused and his voice was velvety and warm as he breathed out across your skin. “You save me.” He kissed your shoulder gently. “Every fucking time.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

@luvr4miya

@arcannaa

@viviwatchestv

@winharry

@ladysparkles78

@kr804573

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

@safiyas-world

@aylacavebear

@waywardcheshire

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2

[winchester-girl67]

Imagine... Dean Coming To You For Comfort

Summary: Dean looks for comfort after a nightmare. He enjoys being the little spoon. 

Requested by anonymous: “could you write a fic where dean just needs some comfort from the reader? it could be platonic and dean just had a bad day or a nightmare and doesn't want to be alone and wants to be held without asking"

Pairing: Dean x reader 

Word Count: 902 

Warnings: language, nightmares, implied violence (hunting a vamp nest), brief mention of a gun reader keeps under the pillow, a little angst, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, fluff 

A/N: Found this in my wips, it's a little short but sweet. Enjoy. 

_____

“I said, I'm fucking fine, okay?!” 

Dean's words echoed in your ears. You'd only asked him the once and he just snapped at you, so when you got back to the bunker you beelined for your room and slammed the door. 

You didn't get food, you didn't shower off the motel shower from a few hours earlier like you usually would, and you didn't get any sleep either. ‘Monopoly’ speaking, you did not pass 'GO'. You just pouted in your bed. 

The hunt could've gone better; it also could've gone worse. 

You stared at the ceiling, still awake and wondering how to reproach Dean. He was clearly not fine but until he was able to admit that, there was no getting through to him. Dean was just too stubborn when he was in these moods and honestly you were a little, too. You wanted to help, but you didn't want to swallow your pride and walk down that hall just to have him yell at you again. 

You weren't a masochist. But you still laid there, in bed, overthinking everything that went wrong with the hunt. 

First of all, you should've brought Sam with you, or Cas. Dean said it would be simple enough though with the two of you. It wasn't and you almost got killed. Dean, of course, wasn't letting himself forget it. You could see that written all over his face on the ride home. 

Stopping your mind from racing wasn't easy. You counted the dots on the ceiling tiles as you listened to the ticking of Dean's wristwatch on your arm. He'd synchronized it to the time on his cell and given it to you before the hunt so you could stay structured in your plan against the vamp nest. 

It was smart, until it wasn't. There were more than you expected and you always jumped the gun and went in first. Standing still wasn't the easiest thing for you to do with all that adrenaline pumping in your veins. And you were used to hunting alone. Before the Winchesters came into the picture. 

Needless to say, everything that went wrong after that was about ninety-percent your fault. The other ten was simply a miscalculation.

You'd known the Winchesters for quite some time but moving into the bunker with them was fairly new. In the back of your mind, you hoped Dean wouldn't ask you to move out. You kinda liked not being completely alone anymore. The world was tough and they felt like family already. It would break your heart for sure; shatter any trust you had left. 

Your bedroom door creaked open slowly on its old hinges and a shadowed figure peaked its head inside your room. You held your breath for a moment and gripped the cool handle of your gun underneath your pillow. 

Always on guard. Even if the bunker was the safest place you'd ever been. 

"Easy, Y/N, it's just me." Dean said, pushing the door open the rest of the way so the light of the hall revealed his features. 

His expression was soft, too soft -broken like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the nightmares to prove it. His hair was disheveled and he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. 

"Just wanted to check on you, I'll let you get back to sleep. Sorry I woke you, sweetheart." Dean breathed deep and slowly started to shut your door. "And sorry I yelled." 

"Wait," you sat up and placed the gun on the night table next to you before switching the light on low. "Come here. Close the door." 

You flipped back the covers, shuffled over to make room and patted the mattress beside you. Dean wiped the frown from his face with his hand and did as you said. He shut the door and settled into bed next to you. Tense and unmoving once he rolled onto his side facing away from you. 

He couldn't ask, but he didn't need to. 

You clicked off the light and tugged up the covers to his chin. Your palm rubbed over his shoulders and half-way down his back, then circled up again until you felt his muscles begin to relax. 

"That feels nice," he breathed and sniffled a little. 

You continued your motions for a while longer until his breathing evened out, you could tell he was still awake but knew he didn't intend on talking things out. That wasn't Dean. So instead, you rubbed up and down his arm and molded your chest into his back, settling into your position as big spoon. You squeezed him and held his hand against his chest. 

"Thank you," he sighed and weaved his fingers through yours. 

Dean didn't talk about feelings if he didn't have to. And for someone so 'tough', more often than not, he liked to be the little spoon. Especially to your big spoon. 

There was an unspoken understanding that neither of you were ever to bring it up in the light of day. But things were just different at night and being vulnerable and open didn't feel as achy and oozy. 

Feelings were allowed to be felt in the dark. 

He'd be gone before you woke, starting breakfast and roasting coffee in the kitchen, but for now your pieces could hold his pieces together. 

And maybe you could both finally get some sleep. 

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

[zepskies]

Hey, I’ve really enjoyed reading your imagines. Would you be up for writing one where either Dean / Solider Boy / Beau, I don’t mind, has done something to upset/piss off the reader and goes out his way to make it up to her and then it’s all fluffy? I’m definitely in the readers position right now and hoping that’s what’s happening! Thank you.

Hey lovely anon!

Ooh this is interesting. So you didn't exactly ask for this, but this is where my mind went. I really enjoyed doing an imagine called "How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to seeing your breast reduction scars."

So I'm going to do this one in that style...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Tags/Warnings: Angst, arguments, hurt/comfort, fluff

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would make up for pissing you off.

Dean Winchester

Readers of Devour Me will recognize this scenario...

Dean can be an asshole sometimes. He knows it, but that side of him tends to come out along with his protective side.

He gave you...what you would consider a "firm suggestion" on a hunt. In his mind, it was a warning you were meant to follow: hang back.

The vampire nest was bigger than you guys expected.

You jumped in to save the woman they were keeping chained...but she was already drained dry. A vamp caught you, but before you could swing your knife, hot teeth sank into your neck.

Your scream rang through the air, tearing from your throat.

Dean's machete soon followed, killing the vampire and saving you in the process. He hid the depths of his worry. His fear, when he heard your scream, saw the monster bearing on you.

He buried the true depths of that turmoil and later holds you while Cas heals you. You thank him with a sigh and look up at Dean. Before you can apologize for ignoring his warning, his words simultaneously cut you to the bone and spark a blaze:

"I hope you learned your damn lesson," he says.

"Excuse me?" you hotly reply.

"You fucking heard me! When I say 'hang back,' I mean it. Hang the hell back."

"I've been hunting long before I met you, Dean."

"Yeah, well. Color me surprised that you've made it this long."

And that sparks the knock-down drag-out fight you and Dean have in the dirty, blood-splattered barn in the middle of nowhere. Even Sam and Cas are uncomfortable in the midst of you and Dean as they deal with the bodies of the vamps.

You don't let Dean touch you that night, even though you two still share the same bed. You sleep turned away from him, curled in on yourself.

He doesn't know how to make you understand. The sight of you with blood covering your neck and shoulder, running down over and under your shirt...

He hates it more than anything.

Even in the morning, the memory of your scream rings in his ears.

You've woken up before him, leaving your side of the bed empty. He wanders into the kitchen and finds you with your cup of coffee, stirring the creamer in for far too long. He watches you for a moment. He sees you're lost in thought. Maybe your eyes are a bit haunted.

He hates that too.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets. His voice is still a deep rumble, but his gentleness is an olive branch.

You recognize that, and your own features soften. The truth is, you're too upset and spent to be angry anymore. You really just need him back.

He guides you into his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead, and sighs.

"...Look, I'm sorry," he says. He's grateful, even for this moment. Because it means you're safe, with him.

"I'm sorry too," you reply. You squeeze him tighter and bury your face in his chest. "I love you."

Dean hesitates. His heart clenches, both with warmth and the fear of what could have been. He lets out another deep breath as his fingers soothe through your hair.

"Love you too."

Beau Arlen

Don't let that adorable scruff fool you. Beau has his moments, just like everyone else...

You don't want to feel like the jealous "other woman." Because that certainly isn't what you are.

You and Beau have been dating for a while now. You know this is something special. He is special. A big-hearted man who leads by example, and makes his daughter a priority in his life.

You admire that more than anything. You've come to love Emily as well...

However, he's been consistently cancelling on you. Dates you'd planned, dinners you'd made, "office picnics" at the precinct that got rain-checked more than the goddamn weather channel.

It seems like any time you and Beau try to carve out a moment for each other, it gets waylaid by something that "just can't wait."

Sometimes it's due to the demands of his job (which you understand).

But more often, it's because he seems to drop everything to heed his ex-wife's requests, large and small. From moving boxes in downsizing her house, to picking up her dry cleaning.

Carla always laces her requests (demands) with something understandable, like dropping off Emily at school. As a lawyer, she's smart like that.

But you're smart too, and you see her game.

She's slowly but surely wrapping Beau around her finger, and it's driving you insane.

"Can't you see she's manipulating you?!" you finally ask him. Your hands gesture widely, your brows are knitted together, and so are Beau's. His mouth is pressed in a line.

"The hell do you mean?" he asks.

"Exactly what I'm saying," you retort. "She asks you to jump, and you say, How high, darlin'?"

Part of him wants to smile at your exaggerated Texan approximation of him. But mostly, he's irritated.

"That's not true! I'm just trying to do right by her. She's the mother of my kid--"

Your hand presses against your forehead.

"I know that, Beau. Of course I do," you say. Against your will, your deepest fears take hold. They make you feel ugly inside for thinking them, let alone saying them.

"But...either she wants you back, or maybe you want her."

Beau's frown deepens. "What? What're you talkin' about."

He tries to grab your hand, but you evade him. You cross your arms to give you the excuse you need to hold yourself together.

He blows out a frustrated breath and shakes his head. "She left me, remember?"

"Things change. Feelings change," you say hotly. Your eyes run over his face, as if trying to search his heart.

Beau finally understands just what you're thinking. He softens.

And then his expression firms.

"Not for me," he says.

He reaches for you. You allow him to grasp your elbows. He steps closer into your line of vision until his broad frame is all you can see, but you refuse to look up at him. Not until his curled finger prods under your chin, raising your face up to his.

His face lacks the jovial nature he usually carries, with a side of teasing that usually drives you crazy and lightens your heart in equal measure.

No. Right now, he's serious. His thumb grazes your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

Your eyes are lowered, with unshed tears swimming in them. Until Beau presses his lips to your cheek. Your eyes close, and you take in the tenderness of his touch. The smell of his cologne.

When you next open your eyes, he's smiling softly down at you. It leads you to smile a little.

"It'd be nice if you didn't cancel on me so much then," you can't help but mutter, a bit petulantly.

Beau's smile slips a bit. "I sure am sorry about that. And I'll talk to Carla. But uh..."

The rest of his good humor fades. "She mentioned something about taking Emily back to Houston."

Your eyes widen. Your hand moves to grip his wrist. "What?"

"I guess I was just...tryin' to butter her up a bit. If she settled in that new house, had everything she needed, maybe she'd stop thinking about leaving," he admits. "I want her to do what's best for Emily, but...I don't know if I can take it if she's in a whole other state."

You bite your lip. You try to soothe him with your fingers carding through his hair. You pull him into your embrace, and the roles of comfort reverse.

"You do need to talk to Carla," you say. "But I want to help, in whatever way I can. You just let me know."

You can't see it, but Beau smiles as he holds you a fraction tighter.

"You already are."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Ugh, this (lovable) bastard...

There are a lot of opportunities to piss you off, and Ben has a habit of taking them.

He's protective, misogynistic (though you're surely trying with him), and doesn't give two shits about modern social protocols like tolerance and respect.

Nor does he give a fuck about being "nice" or "pleasant" if he doesn't want to. (And he never wants to.)

When he pisses you off, however, you have to pick your battles.

You're as patient as you can be with him, knowing all of his idiosyncrasies and foibles as well as you've come to learn them.

But when he nearly snaps a man's arm off for grabbing your ass in a musky club, you have to draw the line.

(Ben settled for jabbing the man in the face, hard enough to toss him back into an entire row of glasses. You'd winced at the man's scream of pain as glass shattered into his back.)

When you send your boyfriend a look, he's both unfazed and unapologetic.

"What, would you rather have that greasy fuck pawing all over you? No one's gonna have the balls to cop a feel right in front of me, unless they want 'em shoved up their ass."

You make a face of disgust, roll your eyes, and angrily storm out of the club. Ben follows you, now getting just as irritated. He grabs your arm and turns you around.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he demands. You raise a brow.

"Not everything is an affront to your manhood," you reply testily. "Are you really protecting me, or is it just your petty pride that another man would dare touch what's 'yours?'"

You turn to walk away from him, but he grabs you again. This time by the hand. He barely resists the urge to yank you back.

No, Ben waits for you to choose. To turn back to him. You're frowning in your anger, but even he can see the thread of hurt deep down. The fear that his motivations are only selfish.

His jaw ticks. But he sighs through his nose. "Come 'ere."

Reluctant though you seem, you take a chance in drawing back into him. His arms circle around you, with those heavy hands splaying across your lower back. He cages you securely against him and looks down you. His eyes are a fraction softer.

"You are mine," he says. "I'm not gonna let these cocksuckers forget it. Because I've got plenty of enemies who'd do more than just touch you."

It sucks to be reminded of that fact, but it's the cold reality. Still, you soften, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

He's trying to send the world a clear message: he won't tolerate bullshit, of any kind. Least of all with you.

That, you can appreciate.

And you lean up to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

Knowing Ben, it doesn't stay sweet for long.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 Lots of angst diverted into hurt/comfort and fluff, there.

Do you guys like these Dean/Beau/Ben "reacts?" Let me know! 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

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[moonlightspencie]

Wrong Time

Description: Dean doesn’t know how to act right. Sam doesn’t get the animosity. Reader is just trying to live life. Otherwise known as Mutual Pining: the Fanfic.

Pairing: jealous!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader, platonic!Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: jealous dean :), minor angst, spells and other supernatural things, plenty of fluff

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N: originally posted on tumblr like 3 years ago (rip in peace to the like 3k notes it had). then posted to ao3. now it’s back on tumblr.

I walked into the bunker after Sam and Dean, throwing my bag down as soon as my feet hit the floor. I shuffled into the library, noticing Castiel at a table on a laptop.

“How was the hunt?” He looked up at me.

“It was crap,” Dean answered gruffly. I took a chance look at him, and he shot me a glare that could kill. “I’m taking a shower.”

Sam watched his brother stalk past. “I— it was… Fine. I mean, something almost went wrong, but we all ended up okay.”

Cas nodded slowly. Then he noticed my expression. “Are you okay, (Y/N)? You look unwell.”

“It was my fault.”

“(Y/N)—” Sam started.

“No, Sam, I mean— I was stupid. I almost got myself killed. I would have been if Dean didn’t find me first.”

“Still wasn’t your fault, we all make mistakes.”

“What do you mean you almost got killed?” Cas interjected.

I huffed a sigh, sitting next to him. Sam took a seat across from me.

“Well, we walked into the vamp nest, and started going to town. It seemed like it’d be pretty easy to take care of, but then I heard a boy crying. I went to go look for him, and— and I saw him. He was in another room, probably about 15, 16 years old. I didn’t think anything of it and went to go help him, but he… I was wrong. He was turned, just trying to get his prey to come to him, apparently.”

Cas furrowed his brow. “What happened? Are you alright?”

I absentmindedly scratched at the table.

“I am now, I guess. I set down my machete like a fricken idiot, letting my guard down, and he jumped me. I tried grabbing it to fight him off, but he kicked it out of my grip. I thought it was the end of the line until Dean came barging in and got him off me. I was so stupid, he’s pissed.”

Sam reached across, brushing his thumb over the knuckles of my now-closed fist. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We got out okay. It was just a mistake.”

“And Dean—,” Cas began, “He is… It will be alright.”

He gave a kind smile as he said this. I tried one back at him before standing up and giving a quick goodnight. As I walked to my room, I hovered by Dean’s door before thinking better of it. I hated when he was angry with me, but figured I better not upset him more by barging in on his alone time. I hated when any of the boys acted coldly towards me, but Dean’s always cut the deepest for some reason. I wouldn’t let myself think on why that is for more than a few seconds, though. I walked to my room, changing into an oversized t-shirt and flopping onto my bed, essentially passing out.

I woke up in a cold sweat, tears wetting my face. I sat straight up, trying to catch my breath. My fingers gripped the sheets as I tried to keep my cool, but to no avail. I got out of bed, walking out of my room, and heading a few doors down. I knocked quietly before entering.

“Hello?” I spoke, voice wavering. I walked towards the sleeping figure, gently nudging his shoulder. “Sam?”

He rolled over, slowly opening his eyes. “(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

I wrung my hands.

“I— I had a nightmare. I can’t be alone right now,” I said, trying to hold back tears.

“Oh. Oh, okay, yeah, come here,” He replied, sitting up and scooting over. I sat next to him, pulling the covers over my legs as he threw an arm around me. “You alright?”

“I don’t know.” I leaned into him. “It was about the hunt. Except, it wasn’t me. I mean, I still went and found the boy, but, um, when Dean came in this time he— the kid knew somehow, and attacked. I tried helping, but I couldn’t move, and then… Then they, they got him. And it was my fault. He died.”

I noticed a few tears had escaped my eyes, and I rubbed at them quickly.

Sam hugged me into his side. “I’m sorry. That’s really tough.”

I nodded.

He continued, “But, you know, it was just a dream. We all got out, we’re all okay.”

“I know, but what if we didn’t? It would’ve been on me, it would be my fault.”

“There is always a “what if” when we do the things we do, and focusing on that is only going to cause you pain. Don’t do that to yourself,” Sam sighed, laying down and taking me with him. “Dean just needs to let this go, don’t let his attitude make you feel stupid.”

I nodded again. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Anytime, kiddo. Now, let’s go to sleep. C’mere.”

He pulled me into his chest, letting the hand that wasn’t around my shoulder rest near my rib cage. I closed my eyes, and the next thing I knew I was waking to Sam’s snoring in my ear. We’d separated during the night, but my head was still against his arm, our legs still caught up together. This put me in a predicament as I tried to move away from him without waking him. I somehow managed to wiggle out of bed, and land on my feet; thankfully Sam was a surprisingly deep sleeper. I tiptoed to the door, slowly and carefully opening it and backing out. I shut it as quietly as I could, and turned around to see Dean walking towards me, looking down at his phone, only a few feet off.

“Morning,” I greeted him.

His steps faltered slightly as he looked up. “Morning.”

His expression changed from tiredness to confusion in an instant. He furrowed his brow, looking at me, then to the door I had just stepped out from.

“I’m making pancakes. If you want some, they’ll be ready in twenty.”

I smiled, nodding a thank you before he squeezed past me towards the kitchen.

‘He’s not mad at me!’ I thought to myself.

I went into the bathroom, taking a quick shower. I wrapped a towel around myself, and headed towards my room to get dressed. We had a day in, so I decided on a fresh pair of pajama shorts and another t-shirt. The smell of pancakes drifted through the bunker, and as soon as I stepped out of my door that smell carried me all the way to the kitchen. I stopped in the entrance, watching Dean for a moment. He stood at the stovetop, watching and flipping the pancakes as necessary. I watched the way his arms and shoulders moved until his simple gray tee, and how delicately his hands held the spatula. Then he turned and noticed me.

“Hey,” he said, taking the plate-full to the counter.

He was getting a little scruffy, having not yet shaved since a couple mornings ago. He looked tired, but peaceful. He looked handsome. I chewed my bottom lip, finally stepping into the small room.

“Hey. That smells amazing.”

I walked near him as he grabbed two plates, throwing a few pancakes on each. He handed me one, and we both went to work preparing them with with butter and syrup. I was about to take mine to the table, when his hand shot in front of mine.

“I’ll take these if you want to grab the coffee pot.”

He looked down at me, the sides of his lips just barely tilting up into a smile, and I felt a familiar flutter in my heart.

“Yeah, of course,” I said, then turned quickly to grab the coffee and two mugs, trying to push down that feeling as far as it could go.

I shuffled closer to him as he sat at one side of the table. I placed the mugs in front of the plates, filling each of them and setting the pot at the end of the table. I sat across from Dean, digging in immediately.

“Okay, wow.” I shoved another forkful in my mouth. “These… These are genuinely amazing. You shook cook more often.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I got a few tricks up my sleeve. What about you, though? Anytime you bake anything I lose my mind.”

“Guess I just have that effect on people,” I shrugged laughing.

“Yeah, you’re not kidding.” He smirked and glanced up, locking eyes with me for a moment that felt like forever. I looked away first.

“Um— about… About yesterday, Dean, I—”

He cut me off, throwing a hand up. “Just— Let’s just drop it. Okay?”

I nodded, looking down. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

He took in a deep breath before things went silent for a while. We both were nearly finished when Sam came in the room, as much a morning person as ever.

“Morning, guys!” He smiled.

I couldn’t help but let out half a laugh at his cheerfulness. “You are way too excited in the mornings.”

He smiled my way.

Dean got up abruptly. “I’m gonna go work on Baby.”

As soon as he was out of the room, Sam raised an eyebrow at me. “He always goes out there when he’s upset. Did something happen? You two looked fine when I came in.”

I shook my head. “I tried talking to him about yesterday. Guess that was a mistake.”

Sam’s lips tightened. “Yikes, I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine. At least he let me eat his pancakes.” I smiled.

Sam laughed, “Yeah, guess that’s a start.”

We went about our day as usual; Sam worked out and looked up cases, Cas helped with case searches, Dean spent most of his day in the garage, and I decided on a movie marathon. Before long, it was later than I realized and I heard a knock on the door.

“Come in!”

Sam poked his head around the door. “What’s up? You’ve been in your room all day.”

“Oh, no worries. Just a movie marathon. Harry Potter, wanna join?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and fell belly-down on the bed next to me. We watched about half of the 6th movie before we stopped watching altogether. We talked and laughed all night long until we were passed out together. This time, I woke up again to Sam’s gentle snoring, but we were much closer. His right arm was once again under my head, but his left was wrapped tightly around me, and his chest pressed into my back. Admittedly, it was a bit strange, but on a cold morning, not unwelcome. I gently rubbed his forearm, trying to wake him.

“Sammy, get up. You’re trapping me here, pal.”

He groaned sleepily, hugging me just a little tighter before he opened his eyes and realized what he was doing. “Oh crap, I’m sorry.”

I laughed, “Dont worry about it. You were keeping me warm.”

He hummed, “Well in that case, you wanna go back to sleep for a little bit?”

“Fine. Five more minutes and then we get up.”

I giggled as he pulled me back in, nearly squeezing the life out of me for a moment.

“You know, as weird as this is, it feels nice to have a cuddle-buddy,” Sam breathed out.

“Hey, at least it’s nothing too scandalous,” I chuckled, eyes closed.

Then I heard a knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Castiel’s voice rang through the closed door.

“What do ya need?” I answered back. Then I heard the door open, and looked up.

He started stepping in, but stopped dead in his tracks. “I, uh— Oh. Pardon me, I seem to be interrupting.”

“Cas—” I tried getting his attention but he’d already showed himself out the door. “Crap.”

Sam chuckled, I felt it in his chest. “That’s gonna be a fun one to explain.”

I sighed. “Hopefully he doesn’t go running his mouth so it’s an easy one to explain.”

I laid with him for a few minutes longer before my bladder called for release. “Sam, we gotta get up, man. I gotta pee.”

He groaned. “I don’t want to.”

“Whoa, what happened to happy-go-lucky, I-love-being-up-in-the-mornings Sam?” I half laughed.

“He’s tired,” he grunted out, rolling over.

I flipped to my back as he stole his arm from beneath my head, and sat up. I looked over to see him struggling to get up himself, but my urgency for the bathroom left no time for me to help him up. I bolted out the door to the bathroom and relieved myself, thinking of how to explain to Cas that what he saw was not at all what he thought it was. I ended up back in my room, finding Sam staring into space still sitting on the edge of my bed.

“You alright, Sammy?” I suppressed a smile.

His head shot up. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was zoning out.”

I nodded, throwing a thumb over my shoulder. “You wanna go grab breakfast?”

“That sounds great.”

We left the room together, chatting on our way to the kitchen. Then, I nearly lost balance running into Cas.

“Oh, hey! We wanted to talk to you,” Sam said, tapping Cas’s arm with the back of his hand

He put his hands up, defensively. “No worries. I understand.”

I dragged my hand on the side of my face. “No, but you don’t. I know you caught us looking a little precarious, but trust me, we just fell asleep together. We were watching Harry Potter and passed out.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, okay. I was sure you two were sleeping together.”

I laughed, “Yeah, no. Not by a long shot, man.”

“Alright, well that definitely clears things up for me. I will see you later.”

“Seeya, don’t get into any trouble.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about me,” he smiled, walking past.

Sam and I entered the kitchen soon after, finding Dean alone with a cup of coffee and a computer.

“Morning, sunshine.” Sam joked.

I walked over to him, leaning an arm on the table next to him, peering at the screen. “Found a case?”

He nodded silently, not looking up.

“Well?” Sam pressed, peeling a banana. “Care to enlighten us?”

Deans jaw ticked for a moment before he spoke gruffly, “Looks like a ghost. Strange, but similar, deaths happening at an old motel. So far three of ‘em.”

I took the seat next to him. “Where at?”

He pointed at the screen. “Plainfield, Wisconsin.”

I perked up, grabbing his arm for a moment. “Hey, that’s where Ed Gein committed all his murders!”

“Dude, yeah!” Sam joined in. “That guy was messed up.”

Dean huffed. “Well aren’t you two just perfect for each other. Be ready in half an hour.”

He got up, slamming the laptop shut and stalking out of the room.

I looked to Sam, confused. “What the hell is his problem?”

He shook his head, “No clue.”

I shook my head, slightly irritated. “Guess we gotta go get ready now.”

I walked out of the kitchen, going in the direction of my room. I stepped inside, pulling a duffel bad from my closet and throwing in at least enough clothes for a week, not knowing how long we’d be gone. After I was packed, I decided on a quick shower. I put my hair up into a topknot so I wouldn’t have to wash and dry it, and took the fastest shower I could. I finished getting ready a few minutes early, and grabbed all my things. I was going to throw it all in the car and wait for the boys, until my irritation got the best of me. I walked to Dean’s room, knocking on the door.

He answered harshly, “What.”

“It’s me, can I come in.”

“I guess.”

I flung the door open to find Dean standing there in the midst of getting dresssed. He was at his closet, so far only having his jeans and a tight-fit tee on, and I would be lying if I didn’t say that I couldn’t catch my breath for a moment. How in the world could he look so good rocking the simplest of things?

He pulled a flannel of a hanger, the deep red one that I liked. “What do you need?”

“I want to know what’s wrong.”

He turned to face me, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Nothing. Is that all?”

I crossed my arms. “You may do a lot of lying for the job, but you’re kind of the worst at it sometimes.”

He shot me a glance, unenthused. “Nothing is wrong. Let’s move on. We got stuff to do.”

“Dean.”

“(Y/N),” he shot back, staring for a second before going about his business.

I clenched my jaw. “I’m gonna find out sooner or later.”

He huffed out, almost a laugh, as he threw things into his bag. “Yeah. Sure.”

I turned on my heel, leaving the room, everything in me fighting against my urge to slam the door behind me. He really knew how to push my buttons, more than anyone else sometimes. The boys were finally ready and came out into the garage where I was waiting. I pushed myself off the side of the impala, getting in the car. Dean flew out of the garage, heading straight for the highway. Most of the car ride was silent, only the faint sounds of Dean’s music over the speakers. Then he had to open his mouth.

“So, you two are sleeping together now, huh?”

I almost choked, head whipping to the side to look at Sam. He did the same, glancing at me, confusion set in his face.

“What? Dean, no, why—”

“You two seemed to be getting pretty cozy the past couple nights,” he answered back, staring straight at the road.

I scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“I saw you coming out of his room yesterday morning, (Y/N), don’t act dumb. And Cas told me he walked in on you all over each other this morning.”

“That was not what was happening. We saw him this morning and explained it all. We just fell asleep watching a movie together.”

“And the night before?”

Sam spoke up, “(Y/N) had a nightmare, Dean. She couldn’t be alone.”

“What, so you slept together?” His hands held tightly to the steering wheel.

“Yes, and that’s all we did. Sleep. Nothing more, we don’t feel like that about each other.”

He bitterly laughed. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Dean, seriously.”

“Fine. We’ll drop it.”

I huffed out a breath. “Thank you.”

The rest of the ride was quiet. We only made one or two stops for gas and bathroom breaks. It took us about 10 hours before we arrived in Plainfield and searched for a place to stay the night. We finally found a little motel just outside of town, and booked a room. Luckily, a pull-out couch was included so I wouldn’t have to give Dean more ideas about Sam and I, and I wouldn’t have to spend the night beside someone who was pissed at me for no reason. I walked in the room to find it perfectly adequate. and I threw my bag down on the floor, beginning to open up the pull-out.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked as he came inside. “I can take that, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not making you take the couch, Sam.”

“It pulls out into a bed at least. And you aren’t making me if I’m offering. Now, move your crap.”

He nodded at my duffel.

I sighed as dramatically as I could, “Fine.”

“So dramatic.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, I gotta be sometimes. Thank you, though.”

I pulled my bag away, walking to the far bed as throwing it down. I began unzipping it when I heard the thud of Dean’s duffel hitting the second bed behind me. I turned.

“What are we doing first?”

He glanced up at me. “Thought we’d check out the murder scene early tomorrow.”

“Alright. All three of us need to get dressed up?”

“Whoever wants to go.” He shrugged.

“I think I’ll hang back and do some more research on the town and possible leads, if that’s okay with you guys,” Sam said, setting his laptop on the small table in the room.

“Okay,” Dean answered, pulling out his ‘FBI’ suit to hang.

We went to bed, all exhausted from the trip. I woke up at 7 the next morning to Dean’s alarm blaring. We all ate a quick breakfast before getting ready to leave. I grabbed my suit, heading to the bathroom to change, and kicking myself for not being the one to stay at the motel. I didn’t know how I’d handle being alone with Dean, especially when he was in a mood. I changed quickly, making sure I looked professional enough to fool whoever we’d have to get past. I stepped out to see that Dean had already left the room.

I looked to Sam who had already got his computer up and running. “Where’d he go?”

“Waiting by the car outside,” he said, not looking up.

“Thanks.”

I walked across the room, stepping outside. Dean stood leaning against ththe impala, his back to me as I made my way over.

He heard my footsteps and turned. “Took you long enough.”

I stopped for a moment. Wow, he looks amazing right now.

“Gonna get in?” He asked.

“Oh. Yeah.”

I shook my head, opening the passenger door and sliding inside. He started up the car, and took off out of the parking lot.

“So,” he started, “you’re not sleeping together?”

“Dean. Seriously?”

He shrugged. “Can’t blame me for thinking so, you two spend a lot of time together.”

I looked over at him. “Yeah, that’s kind of what friends do.”

“We don’t do that.” He shot me a quick glance, raising an eyebrow.

“Give me a time and place and we will, then.”

He tried to hide the smirk that appeared on his face. “Yeah, sure.”

“What? Don’t want rumors spreading about me and you?”

“Sweetheart, you don’t want those rumors.”

“Who said that?” I furrowed my brows, the corner of my mouth twitching upwards.

He smiled at me. Butterflies, again.

We drove a few more minutes into town before we reached our destination. I peered at the building through the windshield as we drove up. It was creepy. Caution tape everywhere, the old run-down motel, the cloudy skies; it looked straight out of a horror movie. Dean parked the car, and we got out, walking to the police officer that was waiting on his team inside. We flashed him our badges and he let us past.

“I’m surprised no murders happened here before this,” Dean said quietly, leaning in.

I laughed. “Yeah, not the nicest of places for sure.”

He hummed in agreement. “Let’s see if we got any Casper activity.”

He took out his EMF detector, walking around the room, being careful not to step in any of the dried blood. He took a lap; no readings.

“Huh. Nothing here.”

I glanced around. “What the hell would’ve done all of this though?”

“Dunno. Judging by how all of the blood left their bodies and ended up friggen everywhere else, I could’ve sworn it would be one of those suckers.”

I nodded. “Wanna try to hospital?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

We spent the day gathering as many clues and evidence as we could, to no avail. By nightfall, we decided to call it a day and head back to our room. We got inside to find Sam taking a nap.

Dean whispered to me, “I’m gonna take a shower.”

I nodded. He went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I decided to get dressed in something more comfortable and landed on a pair of sweats and a plain t-shirt. Can’t get more laid back than that.

I sat on my bed for a moment before I heard Sam moving around. I looked his way as he opened his eyes.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” I said.

He smiled. “Hey. You guys find anything useful?”

“Figure it’s probably not a ghost. Other than that, nope.”

“Mm.” He sat up, stretching before he stood. He walked over to me, taking a seat by my side and swinging an arm over my shoulders. “I didn’t find anything either. Not even connections between the people who died.”

“So weird.”

He agreed, falling back on the bed and taking me down with him. “Yeah. I’m sure something will turn up, though. It has to.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You wanna go out tonight?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m beat. I didn’t get my nap today.” I laughed.

He snorted, squeezing my shoulder. “You’re no fun.”

Then we heard the door open, Dean stepped out.

“What about you? You wanna go out tonight?” Sam asked him.

“I’m good,” he said without so much as a glance our way.

Sam sat up. “Man, both of you? Since when am I the one to go out alone?”

I chuckled, sitting up next to him. “Since now, apparently. Go, though! Have fun enough for all of us.” I nudged his shoulder.

He shrugged getting up to get ready. Then I heard the tv switch on, and looked over to Dean. There he sat, on his bed, flipping through channels.

“What are you gonna watch?” I asked.

He stared silently at the tv and shrugged. Here we go again.

I heaved out a heavy sigh, pulling out my phone to fiddle on. Sam came out of the bathroom with a new shirt on, and what smelled like a little bit of cologne. I looked up from my device as he pulled his shoes on.

“Who are you trying to impress, sir?”

He smirked. “We’ll have to find out. I’ll see you guys later.”

He left the room, leaving me and Dean to ourselves. I looked over at him again as he settled on an old comedy. He noticed.

“What?” He asked, eyes still unmoving from the movie.

“Your attitude is what.”

“I don’t have an attitude.”

I scoffed. “Oh, sure. We were fine working the case today, and now you’re acting like I stole all of your leftovers or something.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Funny how you keep saying that, and then end up in the same crappy mood again. Why won’t you just talk to me about it?”

“I can’t.” He grew impatient.

“Yes, you can.”

He sat up, finally looking at me. “No. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I just can’t. It’s stupid, you wouldn’t understand it.”

He stared at me.

“Maybe I would if you’d just talk to me!” My voice raised slightly.

“Why do you even care?” His voice raised to match mine.

“Why do you think? I care about you, and I hate it when you’re mad at me.”

He closed his eyes. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then what is the problem?” I leaned forward, searching his face for an answer.

He sighed, voice lowering. “Can we— maybe we can talk about it tomorrow. Just— not tonight, please.”

I shrunk back. “Fine. Promise me.”

He tilted his head with a blank stare.

“I’m serious, Dean. Promise me.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Okay. I promise. You’re a pain, you know that?”

I shrugged. “You’ll get over it.”

He stared for a moment, my heart fluttering until he looked away again. He laid down, turning off the tv. I laid back too, turning off the lights.

“Goodnight,” he said, turning over.

“Goodnight.”

I woke up to sunlight hitting my face through the window. I glanced towards the couch; no Sam. Then my eyes went to Dean. He was still sleeping. I watched him for a moment; he looked so at peace. The lines in his face were smoothed out, no worries were apparent on him. His eyelids began to move, but I couldn’t pull my gaze from his face. He looked handsome in the early morning hours, his eyelashes delicately fluttering until his eyes were opened. He noticed me and smiled.

“Way to be creepy, watching me sleep.”

His voice was deep and soft and full of sleep.

I smiled back, “You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t help it.”

“I bet you say that to all the guys.”

I laughed. “Nah, only the special ones.”

He rolled his eyes, chuckling. “I don’t want to beat up monsters today.”

“If we can’t find out what’s killing people, you might not have to.”

“That isn’t a good option either.”

“I know.” I yawned, stretching out. “Guess Sammy found a girl.”

Dean looked over his shoulder at the empty space. “Oh.”

“You still believe we’re together now?” I raised my eyebrows.

He looked back towards me. “I might, might, have been wrong there.”

“Told ya.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “We better get the day going.”

I agreed. We fully woke up and grabbed some breakfast from a cafe down the street. We went back to the motel to find Sam in the shower, and our day went on as normal from that point on, until we found the clues we needed to lead us to the killer.

“A witch? Oh, come on, I’m so sick of them,” I complained.

Sam shrugged. “Hey, we found hex bags in each of the rooms. Most likely the owner of the motel, or someone who works there.”

“Maybe a maid? It’s always the butler, so maybe it’s always the maid too,” Dean suggested with a sly smirk.

“That, as lame as it is, actually could be a really great place to start,” I responded. “Let’s pack up and find out who’s been cleaning the place up.”

We went and questioned the owner to find out which employees had been working when the murders took place, and landed on only one housekeeper: a man named Ken. We got his address and decided to do a little questioning. We arrived to his house, and Sam knocked loudly.

The door creaked open. “Hello?”

“Hello, we’re with the FBI, we have some questions to ask you,” Sam responded, flashing his badge.

The man behind the door, opened it a little wider. He grinned. “Yeah, I’m sure you are.”

He looked to me.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Dean stepped halfway in front of me before I could say anything. “You might want to watch yourself, you’re suspect for the murders that took place the night you were working at the motel.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh? Why don’t you come inside, then.”

He stepped just inside and he shut the door behind us.

“Anyways,” he began, “I’ve always wanted to meet the Winchester’s.”

Before we knew what was happening, our bodies flew up against the wall and landed on the ground harshly. We all attempted to scramble up, but as I attempted to stand, I felt a hand wrap around my neck. Ken pulled me backwards into him.

“Let her go,” Dean boomed.

Ken chuckled. “See, that’s where you’re making your mistake. Your little protective act only lets me know that your little girlfriend, here, is valuable to you. So, you might not like it if I just—”

He dropped me, and I felt my legs give out. It felt like all the air had been pulled from my lungs— No, it felt like I didn’t have lungs. I couldn’t breathe.

“You son of a—”

Thud!

Dean was slammed against the wall again. I watched from the ground where I lay as Sam attempted to go at him, but then it all went black.

I woke with a gasp, my body flying upwards in shock. I breathed heavily, finally catching my breath for the first time in what felt like eternity.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down, you’re okay.”

I heard a voice, foggy. I turned my head quickly, finding Dean right next to me. Wait, no, he was holding me. We were someplace else, maybe in the house still? I heard distant voices. I felt tired.

“I… think I… need a nap,” I said, barely hearing myself speak.

“Whoa, no, no, don’t fall asleep, okay? Just— Here, just look at me. Look here, stay awake,” he spoke to me as I tried to listen.

My eyes still felt heavy.

“But— I’m tired. Just a… Just a nap.”

“No, (Y/N), don’t fall asleep yet, okay? We gotta make sure you’re alright.”

“What… Where are we?”

“In the house of a very bad witch.” I heard a woman’s voice. I looked up to see red hair. “I mean, come on now, I was able to fix you right up quite easily.”

“Yeah, thank you, by the way,” Sam said to Rowena, a tight smile accompanied his words. My vision began clearing.

“What are you doing here? What happened?” I cleared my throat, trying to sit up to find Dean’s chest hard against my back. I noticed his arms around me, too. I ran my fingers over one of his forearms, happy to be there. Then I realized there were two other staring at me, trying to communicate. I stopped and tried to listen.

“—and then, well, you’re lucky Sam had enough sense to call me when he realized what you’d be dealing with, otherwise, my dear, you’d be dead. Hmm.”

“Oh. How’d we get away, though?”

“It was really all me, of course.” She smiled, pleased with herself. “You’d have really been in trouble otherwise, too, with Dean letting his jealously get the best of him and punching someone in the face.”

“Yeah, well, the douche bag deserved it.” I felt him speak, the bass in his voice vibrating in his chest. “He was getting too handsy with her.”

“I would have gotten him away quicker if you hadn’t made him even more angry, Mr. Winchester,” Rowena sassed. “Anyways, I’ve got things to do more important than speaking with you two giants and the wee fuzzy-brained girl. Toodleloo.”

She picked up her dress and walked out of the house. I liked her.

“I like her,” I giggled.

I started feeling funny. Almost drunk, maybe more giddy.

“Can’t say I feel exactly the same,” Dean said.

“Regardless, she did save us there,” Sam responded.

I laughed, “Yeah, she’s fun.”

“I would’ve gotten him,” Dean continued his conversation with Sam.

“Dean, we all would’ve been in trouble if she wasn’t here. Even you’ve gotta admit to that.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He reached into his pocket for the keys, throwing them at Sam. “Here, go start the car.”

“Alright, hurry it up,” Sam said as he left.

I leaned my head up to look at Dean. “So, you were jealous, huh?”

“I am not. I just didn’t want his grimy hands on you, now come on, let’s get you back to the hotel.”

I felt movement as he began to move from behind me. I tried to stand up, but before I could, I felt his arms swing underneath me. He picked me up, and carried me out the door. I held onto his neck, enjoyed time in close proximity to him and wishing I could just tell him how I felt about him. If I could even figure it out for myself. He sat me in the backseat, helping me buckle in before we took off. Soon enough, we were back at the motel and Sam decided to go on a dinner-run. Dean and I entered the room alone, he helped me to walk until I could sit down.

“Here, just sit here,” he said, helping me to rest on the edge of his bed. He moved around me, squatting down between my legs and looking up at me. “Are you okay?”

I tilted my head, looking at him looking at me. “Yeah.”

He let out half a laugh. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

I shrugged, a contented smile on my face. “You’re cute.”

“(Y/N)—”

“I figured out why you’ve been so grumpy,” I cut him off, unable to stop from speaking.

He put his hands on the bed on either side of my legs. “Why’s that?”

“I think you didn’t like me and Sam.”

“I already told you I wasn’t mad at—”

“No, no, no. You didn’t like us together. You were being jealous. Like with the weird witch man. Rowena said so, and she’s smart.” I giggled.

He raised an eyebrow, gulping. “Uh, let me get you some water. Maybe that’ll help.”

“I’m right.”

“Now’s not the time to talk about this stuff, (Y/N), let’s just—”

“Uh uh. You said we’d talk about it today.”

“We can, later.”

He tried getting up, but I put my hands on his shoulders.

“But I like you, I wanna talk now.”

“This is just the spell wearing off, if you just—”

I sighed harshly. “No it’s not, stop it. I like you a lot. You’re so cute and you give me butterflies and make me nervous and make me smile a lot and all I can think about is you all the time.”

“(Y/N)…” he started, eyebrows knit together.

“I’m not saying it because of the spell, okay?” I started rambling. “I mean, I always feel that way, but I didn’t want to say anything. You know, I was kind of scared. Now, it kinda seems like maybe you feel the same way, and I just want to know, otherwise this is gonna be really awkward when I’m not feeling all weird and giddy and I jus—”

Before I knew what was happening I felt his lips on mine. I felt shocked. I took a moment to gather my wits, but I seemed to take a moment too long. He pulled away.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t want to force that on you, I thought you wanted…” He trailed off, a hand going to rub at his face. I reached out, pulling it away from his face. He looked up at me, apprehensive.

“Trust me, I wanted it,” I confirmed before leaning back in as quickly as I could.

His hands moved up to settle at my waist as he smiled into the kiss. I held his jaw in my hands, pulling him in as closely as I could. I never wanted that kiss to end, but it had to soon, as we needed air. Our foreheads rested against each other.

“I have wanted to do that for so long,” I whispered.

He laughed. “I’m just happy to know that Sam wasn’t the one doing it. Because you were so right, I was definitely jealous.”

“Knew it.” I giggled.

He hummed, pulling away from me. We looked at one another for a minute, taking it all in. I let my hand reach back up to his face, my thumb brushing against his cheek, looking at all the freckles that dusted his face.

I sighed, happy. “You wanna go again?”

He chuckled, a smile on his face. “Oh, for sure.”

I slapped the bed next to me, and he scrambled up, facing me. His arms immediately snaked around my middle, pulling me in tight. I held on to his neck, gazing up at him.

“You good?” He asked, a smile stuck on his face.

“More than.” I nodded, grinning.

He pressed his lips to mine, wasting no time. We stayed like that for several minutes, enjoying our time together and hoping it would never end. Until the door swung open.

“Whoa, walked in at the wrong time,” Sam exclaimed, closing the door as quickly as he shut it.

Dean and I looked at each other. He shrugged, “Whoops.”

I laughed, and he pulled me back in.

(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)

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[samdeancass]

The New, Old Devil

Pairing: Castiel x fem!reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Characters: Lucifer, Y/N, Sam, Dean, Castiel

Description: Ever since Lucifer took over Cas's vessel, he can't help but wonder why Cas is so infatuated with Y/N, so he decides to take a look for himself.

The day you found out Castiel had said yes to Lucifer was the worst. It felt as though your heart had been ripped from your chest. You didn't know if you would see your Cas again or if Lucifer would ever let him go after this. You spent your days in your room, pitch black, with an empty place beside you where Cas should be. Sam and Dean were becoming increasingly worried about you; you hardly ever ate, and it wasn't enough when you did. You didn't really sleep and never came out of your room.

"I'm worried about her, Dean. This is the first time I've seen her like this. It's like she's a shell of who she used to be. Dean, we need to do something." Dean nods in response but with slumped shoulders. "I know we need to do something, but it's not as if he's just gonna waltz back in here, right?"

Coincidentally, the bunker sunk into a dark red hue, and the warning sirens sounded. Both the brothers stood and rushed from the kitchen towards your room. For the first time in a while, you stepped out into the hallway, completely bewildered by what was happening. "Guys, do we know what it is?" Just as Sam was about to answer, a low chuckle sounded from the end of the hallway. "It's not a what, angel; it's a who."

Your blood ran cold as you instantly knew who the voice belonged to, but a pang exploded in your chest at the pet nickname Cas calls you. Sam and Dean stood before you to shield you from Lucifer's eyes. "What are you doing here, Lucifer?" Dean growled as the devil began to stalk forward, keeping his eyes trained on you. "Well, I'm a little intrigued, actually. The little angel inside has not stopped rabbiting on about his love, and I wanted to come and see why, in fact, he loves you so much."

The brothers lunged forward at the devil, but he easily swooshed them away, sending them clanging into the surrounding walls. A sinister smile snuck onto his face as he was now toe to toe with you. Inside, you were screaming with fear but weren't about to let Lucifer know. He placed his hand on your cheek, and you instinctively leaned into it, recognizing Cas's warm, soft skin. "So beautiful and full of love." "Please let him go, Lucifer. I need him; I need my Castiel back." The fear inside you turned to sadness and anguish as you took in the form before you. He looked like Castiel and felt like Castiel, but he didn't sound like him. His whole demeanour had changed, and it was something that you weren't prepared for. Stray tears betrayed you and fell down your cheeks, the achiness of your heart becoming too much to handle.

The figure standing before you seemed to be having an internal battle with the two angels, one trying to keep control and the other trying to gain it. It began thrashing around, its eyes widening. Sam and Dean rose from where they were and ran towards you, wrapping you in their arms for protection. It suddenly stopped, and you warily looked over to see who had won. The eyes were squinted slightly with its head tilted and a small smile. "Hello, angel." You ran towards Cas and jumped on him, wrapping your arms and legs around him; he brought you closer into him with an arm around your waist and a hand on the back of your head.

"I've missed you so much, Cas. I've been so empty without you." Cas carefully placed you down and gently kissed your forehead. "I've missed you too, angel. But you know I can only stay briefly." Tears welled up again as your head slumped down. "I need you, Cas, here, with me and the boys." Cas glanced up and nodded at the brothers, acknowledging their presence. "Thank you both for taking such good care of her. I cannot repay you enough." They both nodded in response as he set his attention back on you. "I must do this, my love. I wanted to contribute to the fight; this was the only way I could think. I'll be back here soon enough. I love you so much, Y/N." He pressed a loving kiss to your lips before turning away and disappearing.

You turned to the brothers and ran into their arms, the only comforting solace you had left. You knew Cas would return to your arms soon, but it didn't stop your heart from aching for him.

Tags: @akshi8278

[perseephoneee]

adventures in catsitting (castiel x reader)

a/n: basically i just had this thought of castiel catsitting my cat (her name is Butters, and yes, she's featured in this fic) and it made my brain go all mushy bc i just love him so much. anyway.

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Watching a cat shouldn’t be too hard, for all intents and purposes. Watching your cat, earning your favor, well that would just be a bonus. Unfortunately, Castiel doesn’t understand cats that much.

“Okay, that should be about it,” you said, hands on your hips as you looked at the angel next to you. He was carefully analyzing all the different things you laid out on the counter: toys, food, meds, etc. “Any questions?”

“She eats baby food? Not cat food?” Castiel clarified, pointing to the turkey Gerbers still in its twelve-pack on the counter.

“Well, she’s a baby, and it’s better for her stomach,” you chuckled.

“I thought she was a grown cat,” Castiel says, confused. He looks over at said cat, a stocky cream-colored Persian you referred to as Butters. To him, she seemed to be full-grown.

“Every cat is just a little baby, even when they’re grown,” you give Butters a scratch behind her ears, and she lets out a meep sound reminiscent of what you dub ‘a sad trumpet.’ Castiel still looks confused. “Never mind….will you be okay? It’s just for two days while I finish this case.”

“I will be sufficient,” Castiel almost puffs out his chest at this.

"Great! You're the best, Cas," you pat his arm, grabbing your duffel bag and leaving out the front door. Castiel stands still briefly before looking at the fluffy creature beside him. Wide yellow eyes peer up at him, blinking. He looks back at the detailed paper you wrote, ensuring he got everything. He wanted to make sure he did his best.

It was around night that Castiel started to worry. He had entertained Butters for a sufficient time, then sat with her on the couch while she watched a movie. (You said that she liked Finding Nemo, so Castiel put it on. He found the movie to be strangely sad). It was her dinner time, and Castiel had put out a scoop of baby food as required, except that it had been hours, and she wasn't eating it. She was sitting on the couch, letting out gentle purrs and seeming fine. Still, Castiel was concerned. He decided to call Dean for answers.

"I think something is wrong with the cat," Cas said into the phone. "It won't eat its dinner. It's just sleeping."

"I'm sure it's fine," Dean sighed, obviously not wanting to be a part of this conversation.

"If there's something wrong with the cat--"

"Cats are weird. They don't always follow set schedules," Dean groaned, feeling agitated. He took a second before responding. "Is it fine otherwise?"

"...Yes."

"Then the cat is fine," Dean replied. "Call me when something actually useful pops up."

Dean hung up, and Castiel looked back towards the cat. It had woken up, blinking its eyes at the angel. It let out another meep, tucking its paws underneath it. Castiel gave it a pat on the head.

"Your food is over there," Cas pointed towards the food bowl. Butters just meeped again. "I just told you where your food was." Another meep. "I don't understand."

Butters, eventually exasperated, got up and jumped off the couch, walking over to Cas. She rubbed against his pant legs, walking back and forth and making more noises. Castiel gave her a few pets, showing a small smile when she responded happily to his ministrations. She rolled over, showing her belly, and Castiel gave it a few hesitant strokes. Eventually, Butters grew tired and walked over to her food bowl. The angel let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

You came home after two days, finding your cat and your angel sitting on the couch watching Luca on the TV. Both of them looked equally enraptured. 

“You survived,” you smiled, earning Castiel's attention. He turned towards you with soft blue eyes, and your heart skipped a beat. 

“It meows a lot,” Castiel stated, looking toward the feline companion beside him. She let out a meep in response. 

“She has lots of opinions,” you chuckle, walking over and giving a big squish to your cat. She purrs happily, even letting you boop her nose. Cas looks at you both fondly. Without really sparing a second thought, you leaned over, kissing Castiel’s cheek and enjoying when a red flush coated his face. “You’re the best, Castiel.”

Cas sat there for a minute, even after you’d gone to the kitchen for some water, even after he couldn’t feel your lips on his cheek anymore. All he could think was that if catsitting meant getting a kiss, he’d have to catsit for you more often.

[indubioprocoffee]

“Cas? I think Dean’s got the fever again,” Jack said as he passed Castiel in the kitchen.

Castiel sighed. “You sure?”

Jack shrugged. “That’s what he says. I tried to heal him, but he’s dancing on the table.”

Oh, so that kind of fever.

I’m hot blooded, check it and see, was echoing through the bunker halls. Castiel found Dean actually dancing on the table of the war room, a bottle of whiskey in his hands.

“I’ve got a fever of a hundred and three.”

“Dean?”

When Dean noticed Cas a smile began to cover his face. But he was dead pale and sweating and in fact feverish. He needed to go to bed immediately.

“Come on baby, do you do more than dance? I'm hot blooded, I′m hot blooded.”

“Dean, you need to go to bed! You are sick. And you shouldn’t be drinking.”

But Dean ignored him. “You don't have to read my mind to know what I have in mind. Honey you oughta know” Now he was winking at Cas. Clearly he was delirious.

“Alright.” Cas also climbed the table, to coax Dean into bed. But Dean only took his hands to dance with him.

“Now you move so fine, let me lay it on the line. I just wanna know what you're doin′ after the show.”

“There is no show, Dean. You need to sleep.” But it was hopeless.

“Well it′s up to you, we can make a secret rendezvous. Just me and you, I'll show you lovin′ like you never knew.” His eyes still fixed on Cas, smirking.

“You know what?” Cas was giving in. “Let’s make a rendezvous. I’ll meet you in your bedroom in two minutes. Alright?” Instead of continuing the song, Dean stopped.

“You sure?”

“Yes. I desperately want to get you into bed,” Castiel said, not without sarcasm.

“Okay sure.” Dean was jumping down the table, walking straight to his bedroom.

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Cas wondered.

“You comin’?”

@wigglebox

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Sober Words, Drunk Attitudes

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Cas & Winchester reader

Requested by Anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: you get drunk for the first time, and the boys have to clean up the mess (figuratively)

Warnings: underage drinking (don’t do that guys, this is for fictional purposes only—I think drinking is horrible for people, but obviously you do you, just don’t take this as an endorsement), that’s it, it’s all fluff

Bars were stupid. Bars were a waste of time. You never wanted to step into a bar again.

You’d been sitting on a barstool for over an hour, and aside from being drop-dead exhausted, you were also sick of drunk adults bumping into you.

Everyone seemed to be having more fun than you, too; the (very drunk) adults were dancing around and flirting and chatting, meanwhile you were pouting on a stool waiting for your brothers.

“Dean!” You caught your brother’s arm as he walked past you. “Dean, can we go?”

“Not yet.” Dean’s voice was slightly slurred—he was supposed to be talking to a witness, but leave it to him to get tipsy. “I’ve got a couple more people to talk to, so sit tight.” Dean ignored your attempts at protest as he pulled his arm free and brushed past you.

You groaned, slumping back in your seat. Something poked into your side, and you reached down to see what it was. It was your ID poking you through your pocket. You’d needed the (obviously fake) ID to get into the bar. But that wasn’t all it was good for…

You waved at the bartender.

“I’ll have what he’s got,” you said, gesturing over at Sam who was chatting up some chick. He was usually the lighter drinker compared to Dean, so you figured you could take whatever he was drinking.

“How old are you?” The bartender’s face was scrunched in suspicion as he eyed you. In response, you waved your ID in front of his face. He stared at it for a long moment before relenting.

You didn’t hesitate when you got your drink—you were sick of waiting for Sam and Dean, and the last thing you needed was to get yelled at if they found you drinking. You cringed as the butter liquid hit your tastebuds—there was no way your brothers actually liked this stuff. Or maybe Sam was just crap at picking good drinks.

Regardless, when you finished the drink you ordered another one, downing it faster than the first one. Your nerves felt like they were vibrating—you couldn’t tell if you liked that feeling or not—and within twenty minutes you were relaxed and swaying to the music with the other drunk people. Well, most of them were drunk; some of them just had more confidence than you.

Soon though, the alcohol was starting to hit you harder, and you found it hard to keep your balance, your sway no longer intentional.

“Hey!” You turned when you felt a hand on your arm, tripping over someone’s foot and falling right into Sam’s arm. “What are you doing?” He demanded.

“Dancing.” You giggled. Your grin dropped suddenly as you glanced around. “Heyy, where’s De?”

“I don’t know,” Sam brushed off your question. “Look at me. Would you stand still?” Sam now had both of your shoulders gripped in his hands as he tried to keep you from jumping around looking for Dean.

“Where’s Dean?” You whined. “I want—I want…” your lip was quivering now.

“Are you…crying?” Sam asked.

You rubbed your eyes. “No,” you sniffled. “I want Dean.”

“Are you…” Sam was all but gaping at you. “Are you drunk?”

“I’m…” you whimpered. “I’m sorry, Sammy.” You stepped up to Sam and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his shirt.

“Whoa whoa, hey, easy,” Sam soothed. “Honey, calm down.” Sam huffed, muttering under his breath, “I guess we know what kind of drunk you are.” Louder, he said, “I’m gonna help you find De, ok? He’s right around here somewhere.”

“M-k,” you mumbled, pulling away a little but grabbing Sam’s hand in your own. “Let’s go.”

“Ok,” Sam chuckled. “Let’s go.”

“Dean!” It took about four seconds for you to spot him in the small bar, and fifteen more to actually fight your way over to him. Your grip on Sam’s hand made it harder for you, as he wasn’t as able to weave through the crowd as easily as your smaller frame.

“Hey, are you done alre—hey!” Dean stiffened in surprise when you wrapped your arms around him and wouldn’t let go. “What the heck is going on with you?”

“She’s drunk,” Sam huffed. “And apparently clingy.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered again, your voice muffled against Dean’s shirt.

“Are you…is she…crying?” Dean demanded, pulling you away. “Hey, kid, it’s ok.”

“I wanna go now,” you sniffled.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Dean huffed. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll join you out there,” Sam said. “I’ve gotta go to the bathroom.”

You were too busy fiddling with a button on Dean’s shirt as if you’d never seen it before, so you didn’t hear Sam. When you turned and he was gone, Dean flinched in surprise when you started to cry again.

“Where’s Sammy?” You sobbed, tugging on Dean’s arm. “We have to find him.”

“Ok, hey, take it easy,” Dean insisted. “He’s going to the bathroom. Let’s get you out to the car.”

“I don’t want to, I wanna find Sammy,” you cried.

“Yeah, well, you’re not allowed in there so…” when you kept crying and tugging on Dean’s arm, he took matters into his own hands—literally. “Ok, let’s go.” Dean grunted as he lifted you into his arms and carried you out of the bar. The lack of concern from the people around him about a man carrying a crying girl out of a bar was concerning, but also helpful; he wasn’t stopped or questioned, and he was able to bundle you into the car without too much trouble.

“Just…c’mon, help me out here and sit still,” Dean demanded as he struggled to get a seat belt on you.

“Sam!” You called out suddenly, and you were distracted enough for Dean to finally click your belt into place.

“Never let her get drunk again,” Sam said as he slid into the car, avoiding your grabby hands.

“Deal,” Dean huffed.

You were halfway to the bunker before you stopped crying and trying to grab at the front seat. In fact, you were so quiet that Dean looked back in the backseat to make sure you were ok.

“You don’t look so good,” he said.

“I don’t feel very good, De,” you mumbled, swaying a little in your seat.

“Just don’t puke in the car,” Dean demanded, pressing his foot down on the gas pedal.

You made it to the bunker without incident, but when Dean tried to go to his room you hung on his arm.

“Don’t leave me,” you whined. “Please?”

“Wow, you really need to go to bed,” Dean insisted. “C’mon, you gotta sleep this off.”

“Nooo,” you begged. “I’m not tired, I don’t wanna sleep.”

“Yes you do,” Dean said. “Let’s go.” He all but dragged you over to your room, pushing you down on your bed and helping you pull off your shoes. “Now stay,” he demanded, tucking you in tightly before turning and leaving, shutting off the lights and closing the door.

“Dean!” The second he was out of your sight, you started to cry again. You pulled at the sheets, but Dean tucked them in too tight for your uncoordinated fingers to undo.

“De! Sammy! Let me out!” When no one came, you tried another tactic. “Cas!”

“What’s wrong?” It only took a minute before the flutter of wings announced Cas’s arrival. “You sounded distressed, and—“ Cas froze at the sight of you, tangled up in your sheets and crying. “What’s going on?”

“I got drunk and Dean’s making me sleep and I don’t wanna sleep and I can’t get out of these sheets!” Is what you tried to say, but between your drunken slur and your sobbing, Cas understood something like, “I’mm drr, and De…mmmm…slee…wanna…sheets!”

“I…” Cas just stared at you for a moment, before finally deciding to free you from your prison. He yanked the sheets free, and you fell out of bed, hitting the floor hard. “Y/N!” Cas exclaimed, running around the bed to stand by you. “Are you ok?”

You just groaned, holding your head like you thought it would fall off.

“Ok,” Cas grunted, grabbing onto your arm and helping you up. “I think we should get you to your brothers.”

“I want Sam and Dean,” you sobbed, and Cas understood even through your slurs.

“Ok, ok, I’m taking you to them,” he soothed. “Just calm down.”

“Cas?” Dean froze halfway down the hallway when he saw the angel holding tightly onto your arm to keep you from stumbling. “What are you doing here?”

“Your little sister called,” Cas huffed. “She wants you.”

“I told you to go to sleep,” Dean said, turning to you.

“I don’t want to, I wanna stay with you,” you mumbled, pulling away from Cas and stumbling your way over to Dean.

“Ok, ok,” Dean relented. “How about we go watch a movie in my Dean cave, ok?”

“Can Sammy come?” The waterworks had already returned in full force when you realized you didn’t see Sam.

“Hey hey, easy,” Dean brushed your tears away. “‘Course Sammy can come. Cas—“ Dean shot Cas a pointed glare. “Cas can go find him and you and me can pick a movie.”

“M-k.” Dean was relieved when you finally stopped crying. “Can you carry me?”

“I’m never letting you forget this,” Dean mumbled under his breath. Louder, he said, “of course, sweetheart,” and he lifted you into his arms.

I’m the Dean Cave, Dean let you use him as a pillow while you watched the movie—mostly because you started crying if he was too far away—and he was silently smug about the fact that now that Cas was here, you wouldn’t let him leave either.

“I never wanna see her drunk again,” Sam insisted, and it was then that Dean saw you were finally asleep, drooling on his shirt.

“That makes two of us,” Dean scoffed. “I’ve never seen her like that.”

“Sure you have.” Sam suddenly had a nostalgic smile on his face, and Dean waited for him to continue. “She used to be like that when she was little, like, like really little. She wouldn’t let us go to school without grabbing onto our legs and begging us to stay with her, remember that?”

“Oh yeah.” Dean chuckled. “Yeah she used to cry like crazy until dad had to drag her away.”

“And if he wasn’t there—“

“Then good luck getting to school,” Dean finished for Sam, and they both grinned.

“She cares about you two a lot,” Cas spoke up.

“Yeah.” The easy smile on Dean’s face suddenly dropped.

“But when that hangover hits tomorrow, she’s gonna hate everyone.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[gilverrwrites]

Castiel NSFW Headcanons

Pairing: Castiel / GN!Reader

Rating: M/18+

Please remember: to give yourself time to rest.

Warning: Very brief mention of non/dub-con. Cas is kinda pervy and I love that for him.

Wants to and will deliver the most excellent and diligent aftercare, but you have to be vocal and specific about it. Communication is good, tell him what you need, and he will do it, everytime.

Actually prefers receiving oral over giving. Don’t get it twisted, he thoroughly enjoys the effect it has on you, and will do it over and over for you, but it’s a sensory thing. There’s just so many particles, and molecules on his tongue, it can be overwhelming.

Incidentally like A++ when it comes to dirty talk. He doesn’t really have a filter so he will have no problem telling you what he likes, how he’s feeling. Will check on you aften.

Does that feel good? Do you enjoy when I touch you like this? You look so beautiful when you cum for me. I love the way you feel around me.

However, until/unless you teach him the slang terms and how to use them, he will refer to most body parts by their anatomical names.

Is a top, but is very open to experimentation. Is happy to and enjoys bottoming/being pegged.

A switch, with predominately dom tendances.

Taking charge comes easily to him, and he can be very impatient/intolerant of having his orders disobeyed. Bratty behavior can be fun for him, if you’re into that sort of thing, but prefers service subs who will do as told and do it well. But does not like to be the boss all the time. He likes it when you top him, especially for slow, sensual sex.  If you’re more experienced than him and can show him new positions or foreplay.

On the subject of positions, top 3: Face-off, cowgirl, and seashell.

Art by Emily Schiff-Slater

Will ask/scold you to keep your eyes open and look at him frequently. Really enjoys watching your expressions/reactions, particularly your eyes.

Doesn’t like to restrain you with ropes and the likes, but does like using his body and/or his grace to pin you down and have his way with you.

Let him hold you down, get nice and deep inside, then look up at him with glazed eyes and let out a whimper; he may just cum on the spot.

Can and will go for hours if you let him, stamina is not an issue for him.

Especially for cock-warming. On the rare occasion he has downtime, he will happily spend all day with you on his lap, cock inside you just idly chatting, examining and teasing you as you gradually get more wound up and needy for him.

His wings and the space around their base (in between the shoulder blades) are highly sensitive. Just the brush of your finger is enough to get him riled up.

You have to inform him that it’s found upon to discuss your sex life unprompted with other people. Unless that doesn’t bother you.

Dean: Where the hell were you man?!? We’ve been prayin’! Cas: I heard you. I was busy engaging in coitus with [name]. ____ Sam: Cas I’m trying to explain something here, what is so important on your phone? Cas: [name] has sent me a photograph of their [redacted], I am uncertain of the best way to respond.

Does not particularly like sexting, as he finds it hard to concisely convey his thoughts through text. BUT he does get a thrill out of seeing and having your nudes be so easily accessible and for his eyes only.

Seldom masturbates but does watch a lot of porn. It’s for “research” in “understanding humans”. Totally not for inspiration.

If you suggest making your own DIY porn, he will jump on it. There may be some technical teething issues, but he is determined not to let that stop you. Would film it from the nightstand of something, not POV as he still wants to get lost in the moment and not have to worry about filming you from just the right angle.

Secretly a voyeur. Prior to any sexual/romantic relationship he may have ‘accidentally’ popped up and caught a glimpse (or more) of you, or his other human acquaintances getting their rocks of (be they alone, or with other people). During any relationship he likes watching you touch yourself, sometimes he’ll ask you to let loose and do it however you like, sometimes he prefers a more guided approach. So, telling you, where to touch, how much pressure, if and when you can reach your climax.

And of course, frottage/thigh riding. Watching you grind on him, per instruction, until you cum makes him giddy.

Very much enjoys a good cream pie. Typically, he’s not really into (his own) cum, it’s sticky and messy. But he cannot deny the rush of pride he feels when he see’s his own cum seeping out of you.  

Is often commando, it just feels more freeing, and allows for easer access. Yes he could just use his angel mojo, but there’s something more fun and a little sordid about doing it himself, or better yet, having undress him.

Same goes for you. He prefers stripping you by hand. It allows him more time to touch you, to feel your soft skin under his, to tease all the points of you that he knows makes you squirm.

[fanfictionalraven]

Promises

Title: Promises

Summary: You and Dean had promised each other you'd always be there, no matter what. But when Sam falls into the pit, Dean runs to someone else.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Bobby Singer, others mentioned

Word Count: 3,754

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of character death

Author's Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published October, 2017. Italics are flashbacks.

You run your hand over your face as you stare at the computer screen in front of you. This motel’s wi-fi sucked. You’d been waiting on this same page to load for five minutes now. Rising from the chair, you pull your jacket on. If it was going to be this slow, you were gonna go get a drink.

You make your way to the door, straightening out the collar of your jacket. You grab your keys and pull the door open, jumping back at what’s waiting on the other side. Your hand instinctively flinches for the gun tucked into the back of your jeans before you stop yourself.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You ask, more venom in your words than you had really intended.

“Hello to you too,” Dean Winchester snaps, the hand he had raised to knock falling to his side. It had been well over a year since you had seen or even spoken to Dean.

The two of you had practically grown up together. Your fathers had left you both at Bobby’s often and you considered the Winchesters family. You, Dean, and Sam had been through so much together but there was no denying you had been closer to the older brother. You were there for him through everything. Sam going to college. John dying. Sam dying. You’d watched him get dragged to Hell and were there as soon as he came back. You had been fully prepared to pull him through Sam falling into the pit. But Dean didn’t pick you. He’d picked her.

Lucifer had just blown Castiel into chunks before throwing Dean into the windshield of the Impala. Bobby shoots at him and with the flick of his wrist, Lucifer snaps his neck.

“Bobby!!” You scream out, moving towards his body quickly. You sob as your hands ghost over his neck, knowing there’s nothing you can do. Lucifer begins to punch Dean repeatedly. You rise to your feet and take a step to run and help him. Lucifer holds up a hand, freezing you to the place.

“No,” Dean chokes out, spitting up blood. Lucifer lets out a laugh as you attempt to move.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to kill her yet. It’ll be more fun to make her watch me kill the man she loves with my bare hands,” he says.

You call out and sob, completely useless as Lucifer uses Sam’s hands to beat his brother within an inch of his life. Dean can barely see as he tells Sam it’ll be okay. Something snaps inside Sam. He regains control, grabs Michael, and the two tumble into the pit.

Once the pit closes up again, you’re released from the place you’d been standing. You rush to Dean’s side, quickly assessing his injuries. Cas appears next to you and reaches down, healing Dean instantly. He brings Bobby back as you help Dean to his feet.

The drive back to Bobby’s is quiet. Dean, yourself, and Bobby all ride together in the front seat of the Impala. Dean keeps both hands tight on the steering wheel as he drives. Once he stops the car in front of the house, Bobby gets out leaving the two of you alone. You peel one of Dean’s hands off the wheel and hold it in yours.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, your voice soft and comforting. He shakes his head, staring at the dashboard in front of him. “We’ll get through this.”

“I’m getting out,” he says. Your eyes widen in surprise before you nod.

“Okay. Well – ummm,” you start. Out had never really been in your plans but if that’s what Dean wanted, what Dean needed, then so be it. He pulls his hand away from yours, returning it to the wheel.

“I’m gonna go back to Lisa and Ben,” he says, eyes still forward. You stare at him in disbelief before your cheeks heat up quickly in embarrassment. Lucifer had put your feelings for Dean out there, plain as day. You loved him. But clearly Dean didn’t feel the same way. This was his way of breaking the news to you.

“Oh. Well – that’s, that’s good,” you say, sliding across the seat to the passenger side door. “If you need me, you know how to reach me,” He nods once, his eyes never leaving the dashboard. You couldn’t help the rage that was starting to build. Years of friendship and support and he just seemed to be tossing you aside. “Have a good life,” you tell him as you quickly exit the car. You barely get the door closed again before Dean’s spinning tires, leaving you in his dust.

“How did you find me?” You ask him now, crossing your arms. He rolls his eyes, squeezing into the room past you.

“Bobby always knows where you are,” he says. You frown and curse Bobby internally. Damn traitor.

“I thought you were out,” you say, closing the door as you turn to face him. He looks at your computer screen and raises an eyebrow.

“Was,” he says. “You’re hunting a rugaru by yourself?” He arches an eyebrow at you and you shrug, walking over quickly.

“So what if I am?” You ask, reaching past him to close the laptop.

“Never knew you to be stupid,” he says. Your eyes narrow, anger bubbling in your chest. You hadn’t seen him in over a year. Who did he think he was just barging in here, telling you how to run your own hunts?

“Why are you here, Dean?” You ask. He looks at you and something shifts in his face. It’s a look you know well. He’s worried.

“Sam’s back,” he says. You nod, biting your lip.

“I know,” you tell him. He frowns slightly and you sigh. “I’ve known this whole time. We even worked together – for a little while.”

“So everyone knew my brother wasn’t in Hell except for me,” he says, anger slipping into his words. You roll your eyes.

“You had what you wanted,” you tell him. He stares at you now, disbelieving.

“What I wanted?” He asks. You shrug your shoulders.

“Lisa and Ben, your perfect little normal family,” you sneer, walking past him. He grabs your arm and you look at him quickly.

“The hell is your problem, Y/N?” He asks. You jerk your arm away from him.

“Any time something happened, you ran to me and we faced it head on together. We promised we’d always be there for each other, whatever came. And I was there. Long before…” You stop, biting your lip. You didn’t want to do this. Every fiber of your being was fighting to keep the floodgates closed. Dean Winchester was sure as hell not about to see you crying over him.

“I needed a break, away from the life. I had to try for Sam, or so I thought,” he says. You squeeze your eyes closed, turning away from him. Taking a slow, steadying breath, you regain your composure.

“When Sam came back, I told him we had to tell you. I swear I did, Dean. But he said he’d seen you with Lisa and Ben and that you were happy. The happiest he’d ever seen you,” you tell him. Turning back to face him, you find he appears crestfallen. He looks like he’s struggling to say something before he shakes his head.

“You said you hunted with Sam,” he says. You frown and nod.

“For a little while – couple months maybe,” you tell him. The look on his face changes again, as though he already knows the answer to his next question.

“What happened?” He asks. You bite your lip and look away. “Y/N, I need to know.”

“He almost got me killed. We were on a hunt, a djinn. I can’t prove it but I – I think he let me get captured,” you confess. He nods slightly, watching you.

“I’m pretty sure he let me get turned into a vamp,” he tells you. Your eyes widen slightly before they jump to your bag of weapons open on the bed. Dean catches the movement and shakes his head. “Samuel cured me. Sounds crazy, I know, but you can check me yourself.” You shake your head slightly. “You met Samuel?”

“Your grandfather? Yea, he was a real charmer,” you say, rolling your eyes. Dean lets out a laugh and nods.

“Yea, he’s an ass,” he says. You smile a little then look down.

“Why’d you come?” You ask. He sighs and you look up at him again.

“Wanted a second opinion on Sam. And – ugh – I missed you,” he says. You can hear an added weight to his words. I missed you. His eyes are locked on yours, trying to pass those words’ deeper meaning telepathically. You shake your head, fighting tears once again.

“You picked her, Dean,” is all you can manage to say. He frowns and takes a tentative step towards you.

“I was trying to keep you safe. The people I care about most, they don’t do too good with me around. I couldn’t lose you like I lost Sam. So, I ran,” he admits.

He takes another step forward, closing the distance between the two of you. His hands capture yours and you look up at him. His eyes are soft as they search yours. He leans down slowly and your eyes flutter closed. You feel his nose bump yours gently and his breath, a mix of mint and whiskey, washes over you. At the last possible second, just before his lips touch yours, you find the strength to turn your head away.

“I don’t want to be your backup plan,” you tell him, your voice trembling. He frowns and raises your chin with one finger.

“That’s not what this is,” he says. You shake your head and pull your hands from his, taking a step away.

“That’s how it feels. Now, I’ll help you with Sam cause I’m worried about him too. But we’re just friends like we always were,” you say, picking up your computer.

“We were never just friends,” Dean says, staring at you. You look back at him, fresh tears threatening to spill over. You swallow hard and nod.

“Soon as we figure out what’s wrong with Sam and get it fixed, I’m gone,” you say, tossing your bag over your shoulder.

You meant it. You swore to yourself you’d meant it. The moment Sam was back to his normal self, you were going to be out the door. You weren’t going to slip back into your old routines with Dean. You would sleep on the floor before you’d share the motel bed with him like you used to. The stupid, flirty banter that used to make you think you meant more to him? That wasn’t going to happen either. That was your plan. It was a great plan. You just couldn’t stick to it.

You managed to keep your distance until you got hurt on a hunt. Dean was at your side in an instant, worried as usual. His hands made quick work of removing his flannel shirt. He tied it just above the gash in your leg then lifted you into his arms, carrying you bridal style back to the car as Sam finished clearing the nest.

He made Sam drive back to the motel, keeping constant pressure on your wound in the backseat. Sam parks the Impala outside the brothers’ room of the motel. You had your own room, your new normal, but Dean carries you into theirs and carefully deposits you on one of the beds. He reaches for the button on your jeans and you grab at his hands quickly.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” You ask. He rolls his eyes and swats your hands away.

“Sammy, get me the –,” he stops short. Sam is already at his side, needle, thread, and a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hands. Your eyes widen and you grab Dean’s hands again. He looks at you, exasperation fading into concern quickly. He knows how much you despise stitches. You were an ass-kicking hunter who had no problem facing a demon or a nest of vampires. But bring out a needle and you were running for the hills. “This isn’t a job for a bandage, Sweetheart. I’ve got you,” Dean reassures you. You groan and lay back on the bed, putting your hands over your face.

Dean unties the shirt he’d been using as a tourniquet and you feel the blood start to rush again. He quickly, but as carefully as he can, pulls your blood-soaked jeans off, handing them to Sam who throws them away. The next sensation causes you to sit upright and scream out. Dean had poured the whiskey onto your wound. He hands the bottle to you quickly and you turn it up before handing it to Sam. You look at Dean’s hands as he threads the needle effortlessly and your stomach churns. You follow his hands with your eyes as they move to your leg. One of his hands comes up, cupping your chin, and forces you to meet his eyes.

“You know the drill. Eyes on me,” he says, his voice calm and comforting. You nod and he presses his lips to your forehead quickly. His eyes drop to your leg momentarily before returning to yours. You feel the tug at your skin of your leg and grimace. “You remember the first time I did this?” He asks. You blink then nod, the memory returning. “Tell me about it.”

“We were just kids,” you start. Your voice is still trembling so you take a couple of deep breaths before continuing. “We were playing in Bobby’s scrapyard, exactly what he’d told us not to do. I fell and cut my arm. We were worried about how mad he was going to be so you said your dad had taught you how to do stitches. You started and I passed out.”

“I thought I’d killed you. I carried you back to Bobby and he finished with your stitches before you woke up,” he continues. His eyes shoot down to your leg between every stitch before returning to your face. “That was when I learned about your needle thing.”

“It’s a phobia, Dean, not a needle thing,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. He chuckles.

“And then I learned to do this,” he says, smiling at you proudly. “Perfect stitches, barely even looking.” He winks at you now and you shake your head.

“Promised you’d always take care of care me that day too,” you say. His smile falls slightly as his eyes drop for a second.

“I remember when Sam brought up the idea of anti-possession tattoos. I’d never seen you so pale,” he says, changing the subject. You groan at that memory and shake your head. “I got you through that too though.”

“You held my hand and kept me distracted,” you say, smiling a little. He nods, his eyes staying on your leg just a second longer before he looks up at you and smiles wider.

“Just like now. All done,” he says. You look down at your leg, surprised. There was a perfect line of needlework across your thigh. You smile and shake your head, looking back at Dean.

“Thank you,” you tell him. He shrugs then rises to his feet.

“You can use our shower to get cleaned up,” he says. You nod and he helps you up from the bed. “You’re staying in our room tonight. I’ll sleep in the chair, I don’t care. But – I’d really like to be able to keep an eye on you. You lost a lot of blood.” He has an arm around your waist, helping you towards the bathroom.

You didn’t make Dean sleep in the chair that night. And you didn’t get a separate room any longer. After that, everything felt normal again. You and Dean would tease each other mercilessly just like you always had. You’d find yourself wrapped in his arms in the early morning hours just like you always had.

A few things had changed though. He didn’t hit on women in the bars like he used to. Instead, he’d stay close by your side, scaring off any man who dared get too close. Normally, you would have been pissed but suddenly you didn’t mind so much.

In the days that follow, Dean makes some backwards deal with Death in order to get Sam’s soul back. He does it behind your back, knowing you’d try to talk him out of it. The slap he receives when he returns tells him he was right not to tell you. The hug and kiss on the cheek tell him you forgive him immediately.

“Soon as we figure out what’s wrong with Sam and get it fixed, I’m gone.”

Those were your words. Your solemn vow to yourself. And that time was now. Sam’s soul had been restored and he seemed to be adjusting well. You’re in the spare room at Bobby’s, packing your bag. A knock at the door draws your attention.

“Come in,” you call out. The door opens and the younger Winchester walks in, smiling.

“Hey, ummm – I wanted to apologize. Cas told me what I did,” he says. You smile at him and shake your head.

“We’re good, Sam. The djinn was nothing,” you tell him. He frowns more.

“That’s not what I meant although I am definitely sorry for that too,” he says. You raise an eyebrow at him and he sighs. “I made you believe that Dean didn’t want you.”

“Sam, that’s between me and Dean,” you say, looking back at your bag.

“Yea, but if I hadn’t have opened my big soulless mouth, would you have gone to him?” He asks. You sigh and hang your head.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I would have done. I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t know anything anymore honestly,” you say, looking back at him. He smiles a little.

“Well, let me tell you what I know,” he says as he walks over. You sigh and cross your arms causing him laugh. He puts his hands on your shoulders. “I know that you’ve been crazy about Dean since you were 12. I know that he’s wanted you since you went to prom with that Sanchez guy. And I know that you’ve both been running from each other for years,” he says. You shake your head slightly.

“But…”

“Talk to him, Y/N. Please,” Sam says. He presses a quick kiss to your forehead before leaving you alone. You frown and run your hands over your face. Shaking your head again, you turn back to your bag. You hear the door open and the sound of boots walking across the floor.

“Sam, I swear,” you turn and stop short. Dean’s standing just inside the room. He glances at the bag sitting on the bed.

“Sam said you were packing,” he says. You frown and nod slightly.

“He’s back to normal,” you say. His face falls and he shakes his head.

“Don’t go,” he says. “We’re good together, Y/N. And I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You picked her, Dean,” you say, looking at the floor to avoid his eyes.

“It was never because I wanted her more, Y/N. You gotta believe that. I was never fully present there with her. And she knew it. She thought it was Sam or hunting, and part of it was. But it was mostly you,” he says, walking towards you. “By the time I’d realized I’d made a mistake, I couldn’t just leave them. And I didn’t think you’d have me after the way I left either.” You wipe at your cheek, furiously.

“You abandoned me. You weren’t the only one grieving, you know? I mean, I get that he isn’t really my brother but I was hurting too,” you tell him. He frowns and shakes his head quickly.

“No, I know. I know you were and there is no excuse for what I did,” he says, reaching for your hands. You step back, balling your hands into fists at your sides.

“Sam said he saw you. That you were happy. Happier than you’d ever been. Happier than you could have been with – with me,” you say, trying to control your emotions. This was the conversation you had wanted to avoid. You hated letting people see you cry, especially Dean. He drops his hands at his side.

“Sam told you what he knew was going to keep you away from me. Because he knew that if you had shown up on that doorstep, I’d have been back in. In a heartbeat,” he says. “I’ve been happier in the last couple weeks with you than I was the whole year with her, even with the crap that’s been going on.” He tentatively reaches for your hands again and this time you allow him to take them.

“What if she calls?” You ask, still avoiding his eyes. He hooks a finger under your chin and lifts your face to meet his.

“She won’t. It’s over. And even if she does, it won’t matter,” he tells you. You bite your lip, searching his eyes. “I’m not good with words. I don’t know how to tell you how much you mean to me. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes. You name it and it’s yours. You want a dozen roses and a diamond ring or you want me to – to jump off the roof or paint your name on Baby or – or – okay, maybe not anything to do with Baby.” You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, looking away. He smiles, leaning in towards you slightly. Your eyes close as his lips brush against your cheek.

“Me and you?” You ask, your voice barely a whisper. You look back up at him now and he’s smiling at you softly.

“Me and you. Till the end of the road. I promise,” he says. You smile then stand up, pressing your lips against his. Your lips move in perfect sync, like it wasn’t the first time they’d ever met. You feel him smile before he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re staying then?”

“Oh, you’re never getting rid of me now,” you tell him, smirking. He laughs then lifts you up with ease, tossing you back onto the bed behind you.