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godmadeaterribleerror · 3 hours ago

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Chapter 4 - Release

Main Masterlist - Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, very light fluff, mutual pining, smut (oral both receiving, fingering, thigh riding), time loop!

Summary/Warnings: A lot of truths are revealed. Usual Warnings.

Author's Note: I love making up spn lore. The whole thing is made up anyway. I'm thriving.

Word Count: 6.9k

Chapter 3 - Read on A03!

You’ll have to learn how to entertain yourself.

Some part of you feels like it’s slowly and dreadfully withering away, but you’re here and never leaving, so you might as well make the most of it.

Lying on the sheetless bed, staring at the ceiling, hearing Dean swear from down the hall.

You’ll just have to entertain yourself.

“Son of a-“

You’re out of the bed in a minute. Running down the hall because fuck this, if you’re going to be here you might as well make the most of it, if you’re stuck listening to Dean say everything you’ve ever wanted him to in all the worst ways, you might has well make the fucking most of it.

You skid to a stop in the kitchen—narrowly avoiding the counter—and Dean stands a little taller, his gaze shooting between you and the mess on the floor as his hand goes behind his back.

“Morning, sunshine, what are you-“

No more waiting. It won’t matter in the end, and you have to entertain yourself, so any pointless dance around it would be like playing a game you already know you’d win.

You’d much rather have the prize. No matter how quickly it’s snatched from your hands, you really want the prize.

So you slam your lips into Dean’s, yanking him down by his shirt, and everything drains into Dean. Warm and firm against you, taking only a second to get on board with what’s happening and kiss you back. A rough, hot kiss that might have scarred you—teeth and spit, Dean cradling your face between his hands with a starkly different care, but still groaning down your throat and walking you backwards until you’re pinned to the wall—if you didn’t know the burn would be soothed by morning.

It’s why, when he pulls back with ragged breaths and a hooded gaze, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone and the priceless look all over his pretty features, you know what’s coming.

And you don’t care.

“I love you.” He whispers, and the light goes off.

But you’re still rolling.

“I know.” You start to fumble with his pants, his erection already pressed right to your hips, and you have all the time in the world, but you still don’t want to lose this. “God, Dean, I love you too, but if you don’t- shit-“

You try to fall to your knees before him, to ward off the cut of the cameras just a little longer, but Dean catches your wrist, pulling you back to your feet.

“You feeling okay, baby? I mean, I don’t wanna cut you off from, you know.” He nods down between your bodies. “But you’re getting a little, uh, touchy and frantic, and you don’t want to-“

“I want to.” Your words are quick. Desperate. You want to more than anything, because if you don’t, he’ll disappear. “It’s just been a long few weeks, Dean, and I- I really want to touch you.”

Dean nods, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist and murmuring against your skin. “How about if I touch you?”

His eyes are dark, filled with a promise you’d really like to see him keep, and hungry.

There’s really no point to denying him.

You nod, and Dean’s on you before you can even steady yourself against the wall.

Kissing a sloppy, open-mouthed line down your neck and over your shoulder, leaving small bite marks and bruises as he tugs your shirt up and your shorts down, and his hands are big and rough and everywhere, setting fire over your skin as he rolls your nipple between his fingers and goes down further-

If the fate you’re cursed to is Dean, eating you out like it’s all he’s ever been meant to do, over and over until your legs are shaking and you’re only sobbing his name as you cum on his face, you might be able to make your peace with that.

You’ll certainly never find it in yourself not to smile as him when he’s done, looking up at you with a wide grin and pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh. You let your hand run through his hair, and it won’t matter, but you say it anyway.

“I really do love you, Dean.”

“I know.” He winks at you, running two fingers between the folds of your pussy with a smug grin, and pushes to his feet with that same hand still lingering on your hip. “C’mon, baby, let’s get you to a bed.”

You won’t be getting to a bed.

Because you nod, let Dean guide you down the hallway and fold his body over yours to shield your body from possible eyes, and lean into his shoulder with a sigh as you feel it coming.

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

You’re going to fucking entertain yourself.

This time, you go through the motions until you get to the library. Until you’re curled in your chair across from Dean, and he’s getting ready to grumble about the suit from the city.

“You still seeing that guy from the city?”

You look up at him with a hum and raised brows, and he sighs.

“The suit and tie asshole, from the bar last month.” Dean mutters, and your heart is supposed to tighten and feel like stone here, but it won’t. You won’t let it. “Sam said you were out with him last week.”

“I was.” You shrug, and look over to see Dean scowling at his book. “What are you going to do about it?”

That gets him to look up, wide-eyed and shocked. “I- uh-“

“If you’re so interested in who I’m fucking.” You set down your own book, and move to your feet, walking across the room until you’re standing between Dean’s legs. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, and just fucking say it.”

Dean’s eyes narrow on yours, and you don’t think he’s realized that he’s holding you near him by your hips.

“I don’t care who you fuck.” He grunts, and you give him a flat look.

“Then why’d you ask?”

“To make sure you’re being safe-“

“Why do you care if I’m safe?”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I care-“

“That’s not answering my question, Dean-“

“It’s a goddamn stupid question, of course I care that you’re safe-“

“Why?”

“Because I care about you-“

“Why do you care about me?”

“Because I- Goddamnit, sweetheart, just drop it, I won’t ask about the douchebag again-“

“Why is he a douchebag-“

“Because he’s fucking you-“

“Why do you care who’s fucking me-“

“Because it should be me!” Dean’s shout echoes through the library, and he drops his brow to your stomach as he squeezes your thigh. “Shit, I- I know it’s not my right or whatever, you’re your own woman and all that, but I should be fucking you. He doesn’t love you. I love you.”

The light goes off.

And everything keeps rolling as you fall to your knees, give Dean a small smile, and pull his half-hard dick from his jeans.

You take your time, because the slower you are the longer this lasts, and the more you get to watch Dean fall apart for you. Throwing his head back as you pump his cock with one hand, groaning your name as you swirl your tongue around the head of him, hissing and grunting and fisting a hand in your hair as you take him into your mouth and suck him off like it’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.

In a few ways, it is.

And you can do this forever, too. Even if you get sick of the fullness of Dean in your mouth, and the salty and purely Dean taste of him on your tongue, you’ll never get sick of him watching you like you’re priceless as you pull away from him. Of his thumb swiping the cum drooling down your chin and feeding it too you with slow grin, and then leaning down with a chuckle to pull you into his lap.

The kiss is long and soft and slow. All affection. All love.

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

This time, you just call for him before he can drop the frying pan, pulling off your shorts and spreading your legs in a silent invitation.

“Hey,” Dean calls your name from outside, and he sounds a little worried.

You’ll make it up to him

“What’s- Son of a bitch.”

Dean looks between you and your pussy, already clenching around nothing from his attention, and swallows.

“You, uh- I’m not-“

“Dean.” You whisper, giving him your best doe-eyes. “Please.”

He swallows. “Are you-“

“Please.” You let your hand fall to your clit, rubbing slow circles until your words turn to a moan. “Dean.”

“Jesus- You’re- You’re so fucking pretty, but-“

You whine, and that seems to do it.

“You want me, sweetheart?” Dean’s voice is barely a rasp, and you nod desperately. “That bad, huh-“

“Dean-“

“Keep touching yourself, babygirl. I’m here.”

Dean moves right to the edge of the bed, and resting one hand on your knee to push your legs further apart, and starts to stroke himself to the sight of you.

You hope it’s a good one. Tangled in the sheets, your eyes glossy and not red with exhaustion, your skin flushed and all of it appealing to him.

Based on how Dean’s groaning your name and squeezing your thigh, how his pace had hit a blur of his hand as he doubles over your body and watches you with a starved expression, you think it might be.

He cums over your stomach, painting your skin hot and white, right as you hit your own peak with a breath of his name, and falls over you for a long, deep kiss that presses you into the mattress.

“I love you.” He mutters in your ear, sweeping your hair off your brow, the priceless look bright in his eyes. “Gotta clean you up, baby, I’ll be right back.”

You sigh as the light goes off, Dean pushes himself off the bed, and everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

Dean loves movies. It’s not hard to coax him into the Dean cave and watch a million of them with your head on his shoulder, letting your original plan slide right by in the feeling of Dean, around you and warm and strong and safe.

He’s slung his arm around you at some point, his thumb tracing small, slow circles on your upper arm, and you can hear his heartbeat.

It’s always the same rhythm, every time, without fail. The same pound, and then he’ll breathe in a slow rise of his chest, and you’ll allow yourself to curl a little further into his side. Your head rolling until it’s buried in his chest, and your arms somehow finding their way around his torso, and this was supposed to be about something else, but Dean smells like whiskey and evergreen, and-

“I love you.”

Dean’s voice is just a grunt in your ear, and you’re not sure he thought you’d hear it. His eyes even widen when you roll over to look at him, his mouth parting as you scan over his handsome, almost nervous face, and he thinks you don’t love him back. So many times you’ve never said it back, but he’s so pretty in the low light of the TV, and this might not be real, but Dean still feels more certain than anything you’ve ever known.

You don’t think there’s a world where you don’t love him.

Where this loop plays over and over, but starts much, much longer ago, and you don’t fall for Dean over and over. Where you’re trapped on that hunt where you met him, and he doesn’t walk into the house, and you’re not gone. Something in your will always body rearrange to fit Dean perfectly—just as he’s holding you so well now, as if wrapped around him is where you’re meant to be—and you’ll always love him.

In real life, you’d tried to shoot him. He’d burst through the door and narrowly avoided a bullet to the brain, then he’d roared a curse, and you’d fallen in love.

For a brief second, as you watch in him the dark, it passes through your head that the real Dean—the one not stuck in this loop, putting on this show, tormenting you like a puppet for an unknowable reason—really might not love you at all. And if he does, did, could’ve if you’d stayed out there instead of getting lost to whatever this is, you don’t think it was the same blow of lighting up his spine.

You’re lucky that this Dean loves you. It’s going to keep making you wilt, every time he says it, and that light goes off, and you know this will be gone in the morning.

But you still have him, now, before it all fades.

So you wrap your arm around his neck, pull him down into deep kiss, and let it carry you away. Dean twists you in his arms and pulls you onto his lap until you’re straddling his thigh, and you have this.

Pure, high pleasure as you grind onto Dean’s leg, his hands wandering over your chest and playing with your breasts—thigh squeeze, sunlight and sparks and open wound—the priceless look all over his face as you moan his name. He starts to suck and mark at your neck, and it’ll be gone by morning, but fuck, you don’t care because he’s shoved one hand down your short to rub circles around your clit, and-

You cum with a gasp, fall over Dean’s chest, and his chuckle rolls through your whole body.

“Son of a bitch, that was hot.”  

Yeah.” You nod in a tired daze, and press a kiss to his jaw. “I love you too, Dean. Just so you know.”

“That’s good.” He mutters, combing his fingers through your hair, and it’s starting to creep in.

You’d really like to stay here—warm and molded into Dean, cared for and still riding your high—but it’s not really up to you anymore. Most things aren’t.

“Do we, uh.” Dean swallows, and your hands fist in his shirt. Just to hold on a little longer. “It’s a dumb question, and you know I don’t really do this, but I like doin’ it for you, so do you wanna- Shit-“

“Are you asking me to go steady, Dean Winchester?” You smile into his shirt, and just a little longer. Whatever is doing this to you, you just want a little longer. “You got a crush on me?”

He scoffs, tugging on your hair until you meet his eyes. They’re darkened and hungry, but mostly full of love. You can really see it, now that you’re looking, and you’d like to think that the real Dean has looked at you like this before too, but you don’t really know anything anymore.

“If you’re gonna make fun of me-“

“You like it when I make fun of you.” You whisper, letting your lips brush over his as you speak. “I’d say you love it.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Say it, Dean.”

“I already have-“

“No,” you shake your head, and it’s so close but you need just a little more. “Ask me out. Say you want me-“

“You know I want you-“

“Dean,” you roll your hips down, right over his bulge, and he grunts, his hands on your hips tightening.

“You’re a piece of work, babygirl.” He mutters, shaking his head. “No one else I’d want to be my- Shit, it sounds so stupid-“

“I-“

"Girlfriend.” He blurts the word like it’s been caught in his throat, and you relax in his arms as the darkness starts to wash up.

You don’t get to say it back, and the anxious, tight look on Dean’s face might haunt you forever.

Even if he’s going with this loop, you hope he knows that you would’ve said yes. You always would say yes, if it was Dean asking.

And everything fades black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

Dean’s never been to the grocery store before. Not in the loop. So when Dean says Sammy, you goin’ out to get food later, and Sam responds I need to clean up, dude, I just ran ten miles, you cut the beast off at the head and tell Dean that he’s going shopping, with you.

You make it into the car.

“Sam put pumpkin pie on the list,” you hum, letting yourself giggle at the frown on Dean’s face. “Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll get you cherry.”

He pulls over. Suddenly, with his whole body tensed, and his eyes sharp on yours.

“I am not your buddy.” Dean’s voice is barely a growl as something seems to snap in him, and you let him haul you over his body and kiss you stupid, raking your nails over his chest and shoulders.

“Dean-“

“Tell me you want this.” He grunts, resting his fingers on the band of your jeans. “I love you, but you gotta-“

“I want this.” You gasp, pulling him back into another violent kiss. “I love you too, Dean, god, I need this-“

You cum over his fingers this time. Drenching his pants and taking ragged breaths as your brows press together, and Dean watches you come down with the priceless expression all over his face.

“Son of a bitch, that was hot.” He mutters, and you sigh. “If you really love me back-“

“I do-“

“I know baby, but-“ Dean shrugs, watching you carefully. “Why haven’t we done this before?”

You’re going to cry. It’s moving in, but it’s not fast enough to stop the first tears for falling as you shake your head, and cling to Dean like somehow, this time, you can keep him.

“I don’t know.” You whisper. “I really don’t know.”

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

Dean makes it out of the car this time. It’s different, doing this without Cas, but you still end up in the bathroom. Sitting up on the sink as Dean fingers your cunt, gasping his name into his shoulder when he squeezes your thigh, managing to gain enough control after you finish to fall to your knees before him and take his cock in your mouth.

“Shit- Baby- Need to know where-“

You swallow this time. And there’s the priceless look, and maybe one day you’ll die here. With Dean watching you so reverently, his hand brushing over your face like you’re delicate and worth keeping together.

“Son of a bitch, babygirl, that’s-“

“Yeah.” You smile up at him, your voice a soft breath as Dean helps you to your feet. “I love you.”

He kisses you, long and deep, and you know he can taste himself on your tongue, and when he groans your knees almost give out.

Dean catches you.

He’d always catch you, in here or out there. And you love him always and anywhere, but you still miss the him out there-

“I love you too,” he mutters against your lips, and you smile.

This really hurts, but you smile. For Dean.

And everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

In the bar, between Dean’s legs, his hands cupping your face as he grins drunkenly up at you.

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty-“

You smile, running your hands through his hair as you pay his tab. Touching him makes this easier. Letting his hand squeeze your thigh, letting the wound open once more, not bothering to brace yourself for what’s inevitable. “Let’s go home, Dean-“

“Already home,” he mutters. “Got you. Need you. That was- son of a bitch, is the room spinning for you too?“

“No, I’m not drunk.”

“Huh. ��M not either, baby.”

“Sure, buddy-“

He slams you into the wall, and you’re not his buddy. He loves you.

You end up sprawled over the backseat of the impala, your legs hooked around Dean’s neck and his face buried deep between your thighs.

There’s really no better sight to have imprinted on your brain that this one.

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

You linger in bed this loop, because it doesn’t matter. None of this matters. You can touch Dean and hear him say he loves you a million times, but it’s never real and never permanent and it doesn’t fucking matter.

No sheets on your bed, every morning. Stare at the ceiling like an angel might burst down from the sky to save you, but they won’t. Angels don’t even like you, and they certainly can’t be fucked to drag you from whatever odd, strange hell you’ve caught yourself in.

It takes a second to hear it. The silence.

No clatter of Dean’s bacon and eggs on the floor. No son of a bitch echoing down the hall in a herald that you have to go make sure the amazing dumbass ices his hand.

Nothing at all.

Something is wrong.

You’re out of the bed in a second. Sprinting down the hall until the wind is whistling and everything is almost a blur, bracing yourself to slam into the doorway or counter, because you don’t care what bruises mark your body—they’ll be gone by morning anyway—you just need to make sure Dean’s okay-

You run headfirst into something thick and warm, and you recognize it as Dean before you even fully know what’s happening.

His arms around you, holding your steady and firm to his chest, and you’re in the hallway. You shouldn’t be in the hallway. Dean never leaves the kitchen on his own, you have to run through some lines or call him out first-

He grunts your name, and when you meet his gaze, he looks… Different.

For the past hundreds of loops, his hair has been still mussed from sleep, and there’s been a slight pout to his lips from just waking up, but he’s never looked tired. Dean’s eyes have always had a slight spark to them in the morning, because he loves his kitchen, and he loves his bacon, and he loves you.

Dean—at least in here—has always lit up when you see him because he loves you.

And this Dean’s spark is different. Brighter, and longer, and made of less morning, sunshine, and more… relief.

There are bags under this Dean’s eyes, and his hair is more dirtied than messy, and he’s not wearing his hot dog pants. He’s wearing muddied jeans and flannel, his hunting flannel, the green one that he thinks is lucky, and fuck-

That’s relief in his eyes. Exhausted, punishing relief all over his face, and you could swear the priceless look was there too, but it’s buried so deep under the relief that you can’t really tell.

Dean hands have cupped your face as he seems to examine you, and you slowly pry one off. The one he’s burned, every morning, where a long, thin mark should be seared into his palm.

It’s there, but it’s white. Faded and slightly raised.

As if it’s already, mostly, healed.

“Dean,” you whisper, looking back to him with wide eyes. “What’s- What happened?”

He swallows, still not stepping back from you. “It’s- shit. I’ve never done this side of it, shoulda sent Sammy in-“

“Dean-“

“This isn’t real.” He gestures around your bodies, the weight on his face seeming to slump into his shoulders. “I mean, I don’t know why this is what you’re seeing, and I know it’s probably all your dreams or whatever, but it’s not real, sweetheart.”

You think you feel your heart turn to stone. Of course it’s not real. You’ve been so sure it wasn’t real. You’ve known, from the very start, that you might love Dean in every possible world, but he doesn’t love you. That’s just how this goes.

It still fucking hurts.

And you think, maybe with time, your heart will thaw from only a stone weight in your chest.

But it will be time that passes, and doesn’t loop. Time where Dean never loves you again, and you just have to keep going in a world where Dean never loved you at all.

Oh.

There it is.

“Djinn?” You whisper, and Dean nods.

“Yeah. It’s, uh, what do you last remember?”

You let out a long breath, and drop your head to his chest. It’s been a long time since that first loop, but you know he never said it. When you went through this the first time, the first real time, Dean came home drunk, you put him to bed, and he passed out.

That was it.

Everything else is covered in a thick veil of fog that hurts to push aside, so your just shake your head. Still against Dean’s chest.

He hasn’t pushed you away.

He probably just feels bad.

“I- You went out.” You mumble, keeping your eyes squeezed shut. “Called me drunk, and I sent Cas to get you. Then I helped you get into bed, and-“

You cut yourself with a shaking breath, and Dean squeezes his arms around you.

It’s just sympathy.

None of this was real.

“What day is it?” Your question is barely audible against Dean’s chest, but he still manages to make it out.

“Monday.” His voice is low. Careful. Like he might scare you off. “I, uh, that all happened on Friday, sweetheart. Saturday we went out to hunt some new type of djinn Sammy had tracked down, Sunday we- I-“ He clears his throat, his grip tightening slightly. “You got lost. Sunday night. Sons of bitches took you, and I wasn’t fast enough to stop them, and you’ve been in here since. ’S Monday afternoon. Or morning. Brunch time.”

It’s Monday.

You got taken Sunday night, and it’s only Monday. It feels like you’ve been here a million years, but really it’s barely been twelve hours, maybe a little more.

And you did live this once, but time kept moving, and Dean didn’t love you.

You push off Dean’s chest with a shaking breath, and his hands stay on your shoulders. Keeping you steady as you stare at the floor.

“I- uh-“ You shake your head, taking a long, slow breath. “My gun is in my room-“

“No!” Dean grabs your wrist, his words echoing down the bunker halls, and you stare at each other for a long second before he coughs, and his voice drops back down. “I mean, uh, that’s not gonna work. Whole new Djinn thing, right? You don’t kill you, you gotta kill some poor sucker in the dream.”

You swallow, your voice growing small. “What?”

“Sam says that this douchebag’s evolved. I don’t know if you remember, but we’ve been calling them groundhogs, cause they set you in a loop. And, uh,” he glances back around the hallway, a slight frown on his face. “You have to kill the reset point in the loop. It’ll be a person, but not you, cause apparently people try to kill themselves in these loops all the time, and the Djinn needs to keep you down until he’s done feeding.”

All of a sudden, you’re really fucking sick of finding out the truth. The truth isn’t freeing, it’s just turning your already stone heart to fucking lead, because it’s really that simple. That torturously, horribly fucking simple.

You have to kill your reset point. Dean loves you in here, and you hate this, but you’ve never even thought to hurt him, because you love him. All the time.

The Djinn could see that, no matter how deep you’d buried it.

And this is going to fucking suck.

“Dean.” You grab his face between your hands, and you’re not sure this will work, but you can’t kill the real Dean. You don’t think it will kill him in real life, but now that you’re really looking at it, this Dean is a little sharper around the edges, and this Dean will remember. He’ll feel it. You’ve felt the Djinn Dean’s hands on your skin, and slam of your body into the wall, and the cold of the ice when you’ve pressed it to his palm.

This is already complicated.

You can’t make it worse.

“I need you to say you love me.”

Dean blinks at you, his whole face going red. “I- uh- I don’t-“

“I know you don’t.” You cut him off quick—you really don’t want to hear that right now—and your voice grows desperate. “But I-“

“No, I don’t- That’s not what I-“

“Dean. Please just say it, say you love me-“

“I can’t-“

“Please- I know you don’t love me, I promise, but-“

“I love you!” Dean grabs your face between his hands, his voice rough and moving through your whole body as the light goes off. “I love you, but you need to calm the hell down and listen, alright?”

You let out a long breath, and nod. It doesn’t matter. None of this matters.

“Thank you,” you whisper, Dean’s eyes widen as it starts to sweep in, and everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

One last time, something clatters down the hall, and you stare at the ceiling as you pull yourself together.

It’ll be okay. You’re going to be okay.

“Son of a bitch!”

You have to make it fast. This won’t work if you look at him, or draw it out, or think about it too hard. Your gun is on your bedside table. Dean’s down the hall.

You need to be free.

You can do this.

When you make it to the kitchen, Dean’s kneeling on the floor.

He grins when he sees you.

Your heart isn’t stone. It’s a million, tiny, fractured pieces.

“Hey,” Dean says your name with a bright, wide smile, and you have to do this. “I’ve been, uh, can we talk? I gotta tell you something.”

He’s going to say it now. The Djinn must know what you’re about to do, and it’s trying to stop you, but you can’t move because Dean looks so happy, and he loves you in here, and he-

“I, uh, I know it’s kinda out of nowhere, but I-“

The shot echoes through the bunker, and you keep your eyes closed and cover your ears as you wait. You can’t look, can’t breathe, can’t hear Dean slowly die from the bullet wound you put in his body, and fuck, there’s no light turning off so what if this didn’t work, what if you just killed the love of your life and now you’re trapped in here forever, because nothing’s fading to black and you can feel him grabbing at your ankles, and fuck-

——————

Dean’s shouting your name. His voice is rough with strain and not sleep, and you’ve never been here before.

Blinking your eyes open to a gray, concrete basement or warehouse or somewhere new, Dean hold you around your stomach as you slump down over him, and you’re free.

Dean doesn’t love you anymore—in a lot of ways, he never did—but you’re free.

“Son of bitch, sweetheart, I’ve got you, you’re okay, just hold on for me- Sam!” Dean shouts over his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his neck, and you’re so tired. Your limbs feel like putty, and your head is fogged, and you remember everything, so your heart is still stone.

Sleep sounds nice.

Sleep sounds really fucking nice, because if you think about it, you haven’t actually slept since you entered the loop.

Yeah.

Sleep.

Your eyes have barely started to droop when Dean grabs your face, shaking your body carefully against his.

“No, fucking- Shit, you gotta stay awake-“ He snaps your name, and it sounds like an order, but you can’t even really move. “Need you to keep your eyes open, just- Sam! Get in here, I’ve got her-“

“I’m fighting the Djinn, Dean!” You can hear Sam’s voice somewhere in the distance, but it’s fuzzy. Everything is fuzzy. “Just get her to the car-“

Dean nods to himself, hooking your knees under his arm and hauling you up with a grunt.

The sound you make is almost a whine, but you’re so tired. “Dean-“

“I know,” he mutters your name, and you might be getting delirious, because you could swear he’s pressing a kiss to your brow. “Hold on, baby, I’ve got you. Just, stay awake for me, please-“

He sounds like he’s begging, and it’s stinging around your whole body. The stone around your heart is dissolving too fast, but it’s leaving you raw and painful, and you’d really like to make this easier for Dean, to stay awake because he asked you to, but you’re so tired.

He called you baby. Outside of the loop, Dean called your baby.

That feels like a good way to go.

And this time, when everything drifts away, it’s not because a light went off.

It’s just flickering. Waning and holding on, letting you rest but clinging to Dean’s voice, saying words you don’t recognize, but still understand.

You’ll be alright.

Everything fades to black, and you’re free.

——————

“Is she gonna be alright?”

Something leaves your brow. “Physically, she will be fine.”

“Physically?” That’s a third voice. The first was Dean—you’d know his voice anywhere, including half-conscious—the second voice was deep and careful, and this one is wired and nervous. “What’d you mean physically, Cas?”

The second voice—Cas, which feels obvious now—sighs. “Djinn can be, as I’m sure you are aware, quite mentally draining. She made need space or support from us, depending on what she endured. Dean, I do not know what you saw of her dream-”

“She was in the bunker.” Dean grunts, and you can picture him glowering at the road. “She’ll be okay.”

“I would not make assumptions. If the groundhog put her through more than, say, ten loops-“

“She’d probably lose her mind.” Sam finishes, letting out a slow breath. “Dean, she might need us, and you can’t have just seen the bunker-“

“Sam. Drop it.”

“I’m just saying, I’ve done the time loop thing and it’s hard-“

“And I’m saying fuckin’ drop it. She’ll be okay. She- Shit, Sam, she has to be okay, so just goddamn drop it.”

There’s a long silence, the only sound the rumble of the engine, and Sam clears his throat.

“You never had that talk with her, did you.”

“Sam-“

“I’m not saying you should do it, I’m just saying if she needs us-“

“She will.” Cas jumps in, still somewhere near you in what can only be the back of the Impala. “And if this talk contains what I am guessing, I think there can only be benefit to it-“

“Really, Cas? You’re getting in on Sam’s feeling bullshit too-“

“It is not bullshit. And I- She will be receptive-“

“I don’t care.” Dean snaps, and you think you can hear the thud of his fist on the wheel. “And I swear to fucking Christ, if you two don’t drop it now, I’m pulling over and leaving you on the side of the goddamn road. Got it?”

There are mumbled agreements, the hand—Cas’ hand—presses to your brow as he lets out a long sigh, and sleep overtakes you once more.

——————

You’ve been-

No.

This is your mattress, and there are no sheets on your bed, and no-

You shoot up with open, frantic eyes and a strangled gasp, and someone shouts your name.

Dean.

Dean shouts your name.

“Shit, it’s alright, you’re safe, you’re home-“

You shake your head, even as you see him at the foot of your bed. You don’t trust it. You don’t trust that it’s real.

“No- Dean, I- My sheets, where are my sheets-“

“In the wash.” He answers in half a second, his voice firm and low, and his hand moves to your thigh.

The other thigh. His touch is carving over a new wound for the sunlight to pour into, but you’ve been here before-

“I told you on Saturday,” he mutters your name, holding your gaze. “You got drunk on Cas’ absinthe, Thursday night. Threw up on Sammy, and I put you to bed. Got you changed, too, but I didn’t look at, uh- The goods. At all. Swear.“

His eyes dart down to your breasts, and you realize that you’ve been changed out of your hunting clothes, and into one of Dean’s shirts.

“Dean-“

“Had Cas change you this time.” He adds, his voice quick. “He thought you should go in my room, but I- That woulda been a weird place to do this, and I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything-“

“Dean-“

“Just, shit- Please just let me talk, sweetheart, I gotta-“ He runs a hand over his face, shaking his head. “Look, you know I’m not good at this, but I’m tryin’, and Sam’s been on my ass about it for months, and seeing you with that fucking douchebag while he fed off you, I’ve never been more scared in my damn life-“

“Dean, please-“

“And I, fuck, I just need to say it now, before I lose the nerve-“

“Don’t!” You almost scream the words, and Dean blinks at you. “I know what you’re going to say, Dean. Please don’t.”

“But, uh-“ He frowns. “You made me say it, in there-“

You sigh, your eyes dropping to your hands. “I know. I still- Just don’t say it. Please.”

There’s a second of heavy silence, and when Dean clears his throat, his voice is low. “What, uh- What was your reset point? When the groundhog had you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumble, and Dean’s hands cover yours. Holding them firm, as if he’s afraid you’ll drift away.

“Is it-“ He swallows, squeezing your hands softly. “You know. What I’m thinkin’?”

You nod, the motion weak. “Probably.”

“Oh.” Another pause. You can hear your heart in your ears. “You had to uh- Kill me, then. Right.”

This time you don’t even bother to speak. You don’t think your voice would work anyway.

“And Cas said you were in there a while- Shit.” You can hear the moment he gets it. His voice drops, and he lets out a long, slow breath. “Can you look at me, sweetheart? Please?”

You force your eyes to drag up, back to his, and there’s the fucking priceless look.

It’s heavier, but it’s there.

And this has to just be another trick. Another way for the Djinn to keep you in its hold, because the first way failed. Dean doesn’t love you, in reality. He doesn’t think you’re priceless, so this is a trick-

“I’m gonna say it.” He grunts, and your gaze is almost trapped on him.

The priceless look—now, when you really examine it—looks heavier. More gray, like you’re priceless, but Dean’s worried he’s going to shatter you. It’s lined with rust and fear and desperation, but it’s still there. And it’s still Dean.

“I’ve gotta say it, baby.” He leans forward, and he still smells like evergreen, but now it’s also gunpowder and something earthier. Something really, purely Dean. “And I’m gonna stay here, with you, ‘till you believe it, alright?”

You shake your head, and he sighs.

“I- I need you believe it. You don’t have to say it back, but I need to say it now, before I pussy out, and you gotta know I mean it-“

“Dean-“

“I love you.” He murmurs your name, tracing a hand over your cheekbone, and you can feel all of it. Lightning and sunshine and fireworks over your skin, and no light is going off.

The cameras aren’t still rolling, but that’s because there are none. No script. No darkness. Nothing fading away.

And Dean’s not moving for more. It’s all still light, and nothings fading away.

“I mean it.” He mutters. “I love you. Have for a damn long time, but it’s never, I dunno, never known how to say it, but I love you. I really fucking love you.”

He’s never said it this much.

And it’s all still going.

“I love you too.” You whisper, the words alone a careful, desperate gamble. “So much, Dean.”

Something in his eyes sparks, and his voice becomes hoarse. “Really.”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” There’s a pause, then his face splits into a wide, happy, boyish grin. “That’s awesome.”

And you don’t have an idea of what to do. You’ve never been here, not really, and it could go wrong in a million ways with no do-overs. But Dean’s alive, and he says he loves you, and you really fucking believe him. He’s touching you in new ways, and looking at you like he’s as uncertain as you are, but wherever this goes, he’ll follow it. With you.

There’s no way to know where it will go.

You’d really like to find out. What it’s like loving Dean and saying aloud, without fear that anything will go away.

And it won’t.

Because could be permanent, as long as you make it so.

Dean loves you.

“Yeah.” You grin at him, and you hope he sees it on your face. That, at the end of it, Dean is more priceless than anything else in the world. “It is.”

End Note: It doesn't happen on the screen, but Cas did get more Oreos. Just so y'all know.

Thank you so much for reading!! I hoped you enjoyed the miniseries, and if you want more Dean/reader stuff I do have another, bigger series called Babylon the Great that's currently in progress, and updates every Thursday! Big thanks to the anon who requested this, I had a lot of fun with it!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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wendichester · 1 day ago

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hi hi :) !!

so i just finished season 6 (for like the 100th time) and listened to “we hug now” by sydney rose (sobs).

i was wondering if maybe you could write an angsty castiel x fem reader fic where it’s first set in the scene when the guys trap cas in the holy oil ring, confronting him about working with crowley.

obviously reader just has to be in love with cas (he loves her too, maybe both have even freshly entered a relationship or maybe have just confessed they’re in love with each other?).

then after the initial scene it goes to when they’re all in that lab after everything goes wrong for cas and he asks for the guys help in returning the souls to purgatory. obviously reader is still mad at cas about the whole “working with the king of hell after he tried to kill us and becoming the new god only for things to go wrong even after everyone told him there was another way. oh and when you broke the wall in sam’s head separating his memories of being tortured in hell by lucifer and michael plus when he was soulless too”, yet she still holds a soft spot for him.

the cherry on top of the anguish filled fic is when the reader immediately runs to cas after he falls when the souls exit his body, she’s freaking out because they all think he’s dead. full on crying and pleading for him to open his eyes, and when he does she kisses him for the first time.

then BOOM, the leviathans take over his body.

just to add salt to the wound, reader could be a winchester!! older sister perchance, making the whole thing hurt more.

whew, i was not expecting for the request to be this long but my brain wouldn’t stop picking at the most angst possible moments. if you don’t wanna write anything like this then it’s okay!! just thought it could be a possible fic! i would write it myself but i absolutely suck at writing :’)

˚｡⋆࣪ ִֶָ☾. no time to die,

summary. castiel's made a series of bad decisions. and it might be impossible to turn back now.

pairing. castiel x winchester!reader genre. angst!

wordcount. 628

notes. thank you so much for requesting bubs! i hope i was able to do your idea justice ehe 🩷

The flames of the holy oil flicker between you and Castiel, their glow reflecting in his deep, unreadable blue eyes. He stands there, trapped, betrayed by his own actions. And yet, he still looks at you like he’s sorry. Like he’s scared.

But that’s not enough.

“How could you?” Your voice shakes, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “Working with Crowley? Lying to us? Lying to me?”

Castiel’s expression wavers, something breaking behind his eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Yeah? Well, you did.”

You barely hear Sam and Dean speaking, the room closing in as your chest tightens. Just days ago, you had whispered to Castiel that you loved him, and he had whispered it back. You had believed in him, trusted him with everything—your heart, your family, your life.

And he chose this.

“You don’t understand,” Castiel pleads, stepping closer to the edge of the flames. “I did this for you. For all of you.”

“No, Cas.” Your voice is quieter now, but no less cutting. “You did this for yourself.”

The lab is eerily silent except for the distant sounds of dripping water and flickering electricity. Castiel is dying. His body is coming apart at the seams, the weight of the souls inside him tearing him apart.

You stand back, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Your anger still lingers, simmering beneath your grief.

You should hate him for this.

You should walk away, let him deal with the consequences of his own recklessness.

But you can’t.

You watch him sway, sweat beading at his temple, his breaths uneven. His eyes find yours across the room, and for a second, something raw and desperate flickers in them. Help me, they plead, even if his lips don’t say the words.

Dean’s jaw clenches, but he nods. Sam shifts beside you, hesitant but resigned. And then Castiel speaks. “I—I don’t know if I can fix this.”

“You’re going to try,” you bite out, stepping closer. “You owe us that much.”

His eyes soften as he looks at you, as if he can hear what you’re not saying. You owe me that much.

He swallows hard. “I’m sorry.”

You force yourself to hold onto your anger, to not let his regret sink into your bones. But when Castiel reaches out, fingers trembling, and places his hand over yours, you let him.

The explosion of energy is blinding. The souls rush out of Castiel like a tidal wave, screaming as they rip through the air, disappearing into the void. You shield your face, heart slamming against your ribs.

Then—

Silence.

And Castiel falls.

You don’t even think. You run, dropping to your knees beside him, hands grasping at his face, his shoulders, anything. His skin is too pale, his lips slightly parted, his chest unmoving.

“Cas?” Your voice cracks, panic surging. “Hey—hey, wake up, okay? Wake up.”

Nothing.

Tears burn down your cheeks. You shake him, press your forehead to his, whispering pleas against his cooling skin. “Please, Cas. You can’t—You can’t just leave me. I love you. Please.”

A shuddering breath, then—

A gasp.

His eyes flutter open, dazed and glassy, but alive.

A sob escapes you, and before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you press your lips to his.

It’s desperate, broken, but so full of relief it almost hurts. His hands weakly grasp your arms, grounding himself against you as you kiss him like he’s the most precious thing in the world—because to you, he is.

But then—

A sudden, unnatural stillness. A sharp inhale that’s wrong. His hands tighten, nails digging into your skin, and when he pulls back, his eyes are black.

Your breath catches.

“No—”

But it’s too late.

Castiel is gone.

The Leviathans have taken him.

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