#jensen ackles gif

[katherinehoughtoncastle47]

1.17 - HELL HOUSE

[winchestergifs]

STACKEDNATURAL ⇉ 195/327 (part 1)

12.11 Regarding Dean Written by Meredith Glynn Directed by John Badham Original Air Date: February 9, 2017

[rositaslabyrinth]

Miss possessive - Dean W

Dean x female!Reader

Seeing a girl flirt with Dean at a bar is insulting. You can only take enough of watching it before going over and dragging to the backseat of the impala.

Content warnings ; smut, sex in the impala, slight handjob, unprotected sex (don’t follow their example queens), eating out, lowkey sub!dean

Word count ; 1,901

Minors PLEASE do not interact!!

The bar is buzzing with low conversations, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. You and Dean are tucked into a booth with Sam, unwinding after a long hunt. Everything is fine—until she shows up.

She’s pretty, you’ll give her that. Blonde hair, easy smile, and confidence radiating off of her as she leans against the bar right next to Dean. The first time she touches his arm, you tell yourself to let it go. The second time, when she giggles at something he says—something that wasn’t even that funny—your grip tightens around your glass.

Dean, oblivious as ever, just smirks, giving her that stupid, charming grin you know way too well.

You can’t hear everything over the music, but you don’t need to. You see the way she presses just a little too close, the way her hand lingers on his forearm, nails tracing the edge of his sleeve. She wants him, and what’s worse? She doesn’t even care that you’re sitting right there.

“Be right back,” you mutter to Sam, sliding out of the booth before he can stop you.

You don’t hesitate. You stride over, slipping right between Dean and the girl with a too-sweet smile. You place a firm hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly before wrapping your other arm around his waist.

“Hey, honey,” you purr, eyes locking onto his. “You were gone too long.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, but the second he registers the sharpness in your gaze, the tension in your grip, the way your body is pressed flush against his—oh, he gets it.

His lips twitch, amusement flickering in his expression. “Was I?”

You don’t give him a chance to say anything else before pulling him down into a kiss—one that isn’t just for show. It’s deep, possessive, a clear statement for everyone watching. Your fingers tangle in the fabric of his jacket, making damn sure he feels just how much he belongs to you.

When you finally pull away, Dean looks dazed for a second before a slow, lazy smirk spreads across his lips. “Damn,” he murmurs. “What was that for?”

You don’t answer him. Instead, you turn your gaze to the blonde, who’s now looking anywhere but at you. “Sorry,” you say with a saccharine smile. “Were you saying something?”

She stammers out an excuse before grabbing her drink and retreating fast. You watch her go, satisfaction thrumming in your chest.

Dean chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Jealous, sweetheart?”

You huff, tugging him closer by the belt loops. “You’re mine, Winchester.”

Dean leans in, voice dropping to something rough and teasing. “Yeah? Maybe you should remind me.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

Dean barely has time to react before you’re gripping his jacket, pulling him toward the door. He doesn’t resist—not even a little. In fact, he chuckles under his breath, like he’s enjoying this way too much.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he murmurs as you push open the bar door and step into the cool night air. “Didn’t know you liked an audience.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you march straight to the Impala, yanking the back door open before shoving him inside. Dean lands on the leather with a grunt, looking up at you with a mix of amusement and something darker, something needy.

You climb in after him, slamming the door shut. The second you’re alone, you straddle his lap, gripping his jaw and making him look at you. His hands settle on your waist, firm and warm, but you don’t give him the chance to take control.

“Mine,” you breathe, dragging your fingers through his hair. “Say it.”

Dean swallows, his smirk faltering for just a second before his voice drops, rough and sure. “Yours.”

That’s all you need. You crash your lips against his, pouring every bit of jealousy, every ounce of possession, into the kiss. It’s all-consuming, heat coiling between you as Dean groans into your mouth, hands sliding under your jacket, gripping tight like he never wants to let go.

“You get off on this, don’t you?” he murmurs between kisses, voice teasing but breathless.

“Shut up.” You tug at his collar, exposing the line of his throat, and nip at the skin there, hard enough to leave a mark.

Dean lets out a low, pleased growl, fingers digging into your hips. “That’s my girl.”

Damn right, you are.

And before the night is over, he won’t have any doubt about who he belongs to.

You grind down against him, a low, breathy gasp escaping your lips as you feel the pressure of him beneath you. The backseat of the Impala feels too small for the heat building between you, but you don’t care. You can’t—because all that matters right now is him, and the way you can’t stop wanting him.

Dean’s hands are everywhere, sliding under your shirt, pulling at your clothes as he pulls you even closer, his chest rising and falling beneath you with each breath. He groans at the friction, his grip tightening around your waist, fingers digging into the soft curve of your hips. The heat between you is suffocating, but it only makes you press closer, matching your movements with his.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he mutters, his voice ragged, a low growl beneath the words. “You want me this bad, huh?”

You smirk against his neck, dragging your lips along his jawline, sucking softly at the sensitive skin just beneath his ear. “I always want you, Dean,” you whisper, grinding down against him again, slow and deliberate this time, drawing out the sensation.

His breath hitches, and you feel the way his pulse quickens under your fingertips. But still, he doesn’t take control. Not yet. Not until you’ve had your fill of him. His hands slip under your shirt, skin on skin, sending shivers down your spine as he pulls you in deeper, closer.

“Say it,” you breathe, your hands trailing down his chest, fingers brushing against the waistband of his jeans before pulling them and his underwear down and off him. “Say you want me, Dean.”

For a second, he hesitates, but only for a second. Then, with a rough exhale, he grabs your face, pulling you close. “I want you,” he growls, eyes locked on yours with a fire you know all too well. “I fucking want you, I’m yours,

And that’s all it takes. You slide your hands up his chest, and you’re moving against him, slow at first. Teasing. The tension thickens, your pulse thrumming as you feel the heat between you rise, every inch of him pressing against you.

You can feel the way he’s holding back—holding onto whatever little self-control he has left. But you won’t let him. Not now. You’re the one in control, and you’re going to make sure he knows it. You push him back against the leather seat, leaning down to kiss him, all fire, all heat.

Dean’s hands slide to your hips, but this time, he’s not guiding you. He’s holding on, letting you set the pace, watching you with that look in his eyes—the same one he always gets when he’s completely lost in you. His thumb brushes against your skin, tracing patterns that make your heart race.

“You’re mine,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper as you pull back to look at him. “And don’t you forget it.”

Dean’s chest heaves beneath you, his hands tightening on your hips, pulling you down closer. He’s losing it, but he’s still trying to hold on, still trying to give you what you want—but you won’t let him.

You press down, and he gasps, his hands gripping the seat beneath him as his eyes squeeze shut. “God,” he growls, his voice low, guttural. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear. “You like it,” you murmur, fingers moving to his aching cock.

Dean’s breath catches. “Fuck, yeah,” he groans, his hands finally snapping to your back, pressing you even harder against him, thrusting up into your hands even more, the friction too much to ignore.

You kiss him harder, every movement slow and deliberate. You move against him, your body sinking down on him just a little bit more each time, every inch of him filling you, stretching you in the best way possible, while you continue ti lazily stroke his base.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Dean mutters, his voice shaking as you start to move faster, pulling him in, making him feel every inch of your need. His hands are now on your back, guiding you, but it’s not enough for you. You want to be closer, deeper.

“I want you so badly,” you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you press down against him again, feeling the way his grip tightens on you, pulling you down harder.

Dean’s hand grip your hips harder, hid other hand going to the one on his cock yo grab ahold of and hold down on his chest. His control snapping as he slams up into you, a sound between a growl and a moan escaping his lips. You match his rhythm, desperate, frantic, the heat of him almost overwhelming.

He’s possessing you now, every thrust bringing him deeper, harder, until the world falls away, and it’s just the two of you, tangled in a whirlwind of heat and desire. His name falls from your lips in a desperate whisper, and that’s when everything snaps—when the tension reaches its peak, and you both break together.

You collapse against him, breathless and shaking, but he doesn’t let you go. His hands are still on you, pulling you close, his lips brushing against your forehead as you both try to catch your breath.

He helps you off of him, the way both of your fluids spill out of you back into deans skin is like a watching a waterfall. He taps your back, signaling you to move up him, which you do after a few more seconds of catching your breath.

With you hovering over his face, he had the perfect view of you, your glistening cunt from both of your come. He waisted no time, pulling you down by your hips onto his mouth groaning into you.

“Of fuck Dean, just like that, yes!” You moan out dropping your head behind you squeezing your eyes shut as you can feel his tongue swiping up through your leaking folds.

He groans into you, the vibrations coursing through your body drawing you closer to your second orgasm. You move your hips against his mouth, the feeling too good not to.

All you could get out was broken moans mixed in with barely there yelps of his name.

Once you come again, Dean works your way through it continuing to drag his tongue through you until he made sure you were clean of come

Once getting off and falling back onto his chest once again Dean’s chest rose and fell beneath you as he holds you close, the scent of leather and sweat surrounding you both. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice raw.

The moment is broken a few moments later though with a knock in the widow, jolting both of you up, dean making sure to cover you.

“Guys seriously? This is a shared car.” You hear sam scoff, before retreating back into the shared bar.

Liz talks : all I’ve been doing my entire spring break has been writing and working LMAO so two posts in two days, I hope yall like this fun little dean smut, inspired by miss possessive by Tate McRae. I also came to the conclusion that I CAN write smut I just can’t write smut dialogue so! Whatevs! I will not be looking at it after this out of sight out of mind! Let me know what yall think any kind of interaction is great <3

Tags : @deansbbyx , @deanswidow , @nymphet-quenn , @multiversefanfics , @star-maker-rain-dancer , @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel

To be tagged in any future works of mine please check out this post !!

[spnseasonsgirl]

#tuesday #happyj2stuesday #j2stuesday

🍀🌟🌟

Very much enjoying how much Jensen was loving on Jared at Jibcon (video)

[samwinchestrrrslvt]

dean winchester nsfw headcanons!

req open, castiel ver coming soon

mdni. 18+.

sam ver

first, you cannot convince me this man ISNT a bottom

definately a dom, but a bottom, just loves having you ontop of him

CONSTANTLY has to have his hands on your hips, waist, or chest, even outside of the bedroom

this man lives for eye contact

extremely cocky 'you sure your gonna be able to handle this baby?' stuff like that

fav position is either cowgirl or reverse cowgirl, loves having you ride him

would go down on you, but prefers teasing you and annoying you until you ride his face to shut him up

is REALLY kinky, would be up for most things as long as they aren't too hard-core

this man doesn't grunt, or growl, he MOANS and WHIMPERS into your ear, the sluttiest thing you'll ever hear

if your sucking him off, he'll push your head down just a little

his eyes roll back whenever you suck him off too

gives you so much praise

will thrust up into you faster than the speed of light

likes it if you wear lipstick and leave marks on him after you kiss him or his neck

grips your ass tighter than anything

will give your ass slaps while you ride him

pulls over in the impala just to fuck you if it's just you and him in the car

hands are always on your thigh in the the car

has 100% fucked you on the hood, or thought about it

fingers you while he drives if it's safe, or let's you suck him off

he's really pervy, loves it when you wear revealing stuff apart from if another man has his eyes on you, super possessive, even though he knows your his

he's a panty theif. that's all you need to now.

loveless sucking your boobs

he also enjoys having you close during sex, definately likes missionary on the occasion

secretly enjoys it if you take control

will whisper into your ear whenever he's horny, stand behind you just to brush his hard on onto your ass

he likes sitting you in his lap and fingering youw while you watch a movie

plays his music in the background while you two fuck, specifically zeppelin and def leppard

takes you into the shower for aftercare and cleans you up, just to fuck you again in there if your up for it

will absolutely go for hours

doesn't shy away from teasing you after, absolutely mocks how needy you were in a loving way, adores it when you do it back (the banter turns him on)

he gets so turned on at your messy morning look, he loves it

phone sex.

SEXTING. if he's on his way back from a hunt and sams driving he'll definately send u a text saying like 'can't wait to see you'. prepare to get your back blown out.

is superrrr loud

will fuck you anywhere if you want it

he is a FUCKER for bending you over any surface when your needy

loves role-play

if you wear lingerie for him, he'll only move the bra down just to see your pretty tits and move your panties to the side

will fuck you in a dress/skirt

[katherinehoughtoncastle47]

4.06 - YELLOW FEVER

[winchestergifs]

STACKEDNATURAL ⇉ 195/327 (part 2)

12.11 Regarding Dean Written by Meredith Glynn Directed by John Badham Original Air Date: February 9, 2017

[pinksatinpanties]

I love acting because

this is Jensen Ackles

and this is Dean Winchester

but this is Dean possessed by Michael

and this is Demon Dean

and this is Soldier Boy

and this is Sheriff Beau Arlen

they all have the exact same face and they're all the same person and have the same vocal chords, but they're clearly completely different people.

WITCH!!! 🫵

[jensens-ackles]

18.03.1978 ⁂ Happy 46th Birthday Elta Danneel Ackles 💕🎂💃🏻🎉🥳

[waterfall33]

Boner

Jensen making Jared stomp his feet in laughter :))) [Nerd HQ 2013 // NashCon 2016] 

[figthoughts]

pause pause does jensen’s sit to the left is that confirmed

listen… idk ANYTHING 🫣

[supernotnatural2005]

So could I request something? Because I love your work and I like supporting my fellow writers!

So my thought is based off of this gifset here . But basically somehow they check into a motel that has a pool and Dean and reader have a little play time messing around. Can be fluffy or smutty, whatever you prefer.

Thank you girlie :)

In Too Deep

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: When a dip in the pool is all it takes to spill a confession.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/tags: Wet Dean 👀, lots of sexual tension, hint of spice, friends to lovers.

AN: Slowly but surely getting through these requests 😅.. But thank you @beakaleak32 , this one was a fun one to do! I hope it's what you were hoping for? Plus this gif set is a dream 😍 Gifs belong to @kendaspntwd

Main Masterlist

The summer heat was relentless, even as the sun began its slow descent, and the motel room wasn’t much of a relief. To put the cherry on top of this rapidly melting sundae, the air conditioning unit in your room was busted.

“Great,” you grumbled, flopping onto one of the two queen beds as Sam tinkered with the ancient-looking device. A heavy sigh left your lips as the exhaustion from back-to-back hunts finally started to settle.

It had been a brutal few weeks—each case bleeding into the next with barely a moment to breathe. So when Sam suggested taking a day to rest before picking up another hunt, you practically jumped at the chance.

“Looks like there might be another way to cool down,” Dean’s voice came from the back patio door.

Cracking one eye open, you found him standing there, peeking past the dated white drapes, his lips curved in a smirk. Curious, you pushed yourself up and strolled over, brushing right past him without a second thought.

Dean tensed—like he always did when you got too close—but you barely noticed, too focused on nosing around him to see what had caught his attention.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, excitement bubbling up. The motel had a pool. And not just some sad, murky thing filled with leaves and regret. It was well-kept—clear blue water shimmering in the golden light, a few lounge chairs scattered around. For a roadside dive, this was a damn luxury.

“What do you say, Winchester? Care for a dip?” You smirked up at him, playful and inviting.

Dean barely had time to process before you turned back to the pool, missing the way his throat bobbed with a deep swallow. Sam glanced up from where he was fumbling with the unit, just long enough to witness his brother’s internal meltdown. With a knowing shake of his head, he went back to trying to get the damned thing working.

It was almost funny, how fearless Dean was in every other aspect of his life—facing down monsters, staring death in the face without flinching—but when it came to you? The guy was hopeless.

Still grinning to yourself, you rummaged through your duffel, fishing out an old swimsuit you’d completely forgotten about. It wasn’t much, just a black bikini you’d bought back in your late teens, and—oh. You held it up with a frown. Your boobs had definitely gotten bigger since the last time you wore this.

Dean’s eyes widened in alarm when he caught sight of the tiny scraps of fabric in your hands. “Are you serious?” His voice cracked slightly, and you looked at him like he’d just asked if water was wet.

“Yeah, it’s freakin’ hot, man.” You shrugged, completely unfazed, before passing by him toward the bathroom.

Dean stood frozen for a second, his brain short-circuiting at the mental image alone. Sam, still watching with mild amusement, stifled a chuckle.

Dean turned on him immediately. "Don’t."

Sam smirked, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I didn’t say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"Yeah, well, you’re not exactly subtle, dude.” Sam snorted before going back to the A/C unit with about as much sincerity as a politician’s promise.

Inside the bathroom, you adjusted the bikini top, biting your lip. Yeah, it was a little snug, but once you were in the water, it wouldn’t matter. Grabbing a towel, you wrapped it around yourself and stepped back out into the room, catching the way Dean’s gaze snapped to you—and then immediately away, like he was trying real hard to look anywhere but at you.

“Y’guys comin’?” you asked, raising a brow.

Sam shook his head. “Nah, I might actually be able to get this working,” he said, way too casually. You knew damn well he wasn’t even trying anymore. He shot a look at Dean before adding, “You two go on ahead.”

Dean turned to him, eyes narrowing. Sam just gave him a smug little nod before going back to his “work.”

“I, uh—” Dean cleared his throat, still not quite looking at you. “I don’t have any swim trunks.”

You tilted your head, fighting a smirk. “You have underwear, right?”

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking about two seconds away from spontaneously combusting.

“Same thing, no?” You grinned, tossing him a wink before turning on your heel and heading outside.

Behind you, Sam snickered. “Smooth, real smooth.”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled before finally shaking himself out of it and trudging after you.

When Dean stepped outside, it was just in time to see you slipping into the water, your body sinking beneath the surface with a shiver. You let out a quiet gasp at the coolness, the sound doing absolutely nothing to help his already wandering thoughts.

Get it together, Winchester.

But it was damn near impossible when you looked like that.

You resurfaced gracefully, tilting your head back to wet your hair, your body weightless in the shimmering blue. The water lapped at your skin, glistening in the golden evening light.

Dean swallowed hard.

“You sure you don’t wanna join?” you called out, voice laced with amusement. “Feels amazing.”

Your arms stretched out lazily as you floated, the setting sun casting a soft glow on your skin. Your grin was effortless, your body completely relaxed in a way he rarely saw outside of a hunt-free moment like this.

Dean clenched his jaw, his throat bobbing as his eyes flickered—just for a second—down to where the water barely covered your chest. The bikini top, already bordering on unfair, clung to you like a second skin.

He quickly looked away, glancing to either side. The two motel rooms closest to the pool seemed empty, no lights on, no signs of movement. That settled his nerves just enough.

Still, he ran a hand down his face and exhaled sharply.

This is fine. Totally fine.

It was just a dip in the pool. Nothing more.

So why the hell did it feel like stepping into dangerous waters in more ways than one?

Dean let out a slow, measured breath, forcing himself to get a grip. He was Dean Winchester, for god’s sake. He’d faced down monsters, demons, and death itself—but here he was, hesitating over a pool because of you. A hot, almost naked you, floating effortlessly in the water, inviting him in with that damn teasing smirk of yours.

No. Enough of this. He was done being a chicken.

“Fine,” he huffed, straightening his shoulders. “But no peeking.” He pointed at you seriously, and you snorted, rolling your eyes.

“Dude, I’ve seen you without a shirt before.”

But Dean shot you a look, a little exasperated, a little flustered. “Not about that.” He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “The water’s cold, and a man’s gotta keep some of his dignity.”

It took a second, but when the meaning behind his words finally clicked, you bit your lip, fighting back a giggle. You didn’t tease him for it though—just turned away, giving him a little grace.

Dean exhaled sharply and quickly peeled off his shirt, kicked off his boots, shortly followed by his jeans, nudging them aside before stepping up to the pool’s edge. He hesitated for half a second before dropping in.

Holy shit.

The water was colder than he expected, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth.

A second later, a splash of water hit him square in the face.

Dean gasped, blinking against the droplets as you cackled, treading water a few feet away, mischief written all over your face.

“Oh, you’re so dead,” he growled.

You yelped, immediately kicking off to put distance between you, but you barely got anywhere before Dean powered through the water after you. You twisted, sending another wave at him in a desperate attempt to slow him down, but it was useless. He was quicker, stronger, and within seconds, he was on you.

“No! Mercy—Dean!” you shrieked through giggles as he wrapped an arm around you, gripping you tight.

“Too late for that, sweetheart.”

Then, before you could plead your case, he pulled you under.

The water swallowed you both for a brief moment before you resurfaced with a gasp, pushing your wet hair back and wiping your face.

“Okay, okay! I deserved that,” you admitted between breaths, laughing.

Dean’s green eyes lingered on you, his usual cocky bravado giving way to something softer. Deeper. He drifted closer to you, the water just about reaching his shoulders, whilst you kicked gently to stay afloat. It was endearing as hell.

His hands twitched at his sides like he was waging some internal battle, debating whether to cross a line neither of you could come back from.

Then, finally, he made up his mind.

His hand found your waist beneath the water, fingers curling around you, pulling you in just enough that you could feel the heat of him, even through the coolness that surrounded you. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips.

"You know," he murmured, voice rough, "if you wanted me in here so bad, you could've just asked."

Your stomach flipped, pulse thrumming in your ears. A slow smile curled your lips as you tilted your head, teasing, "Maybe I was just waiting for you to finally make up your mind."

Dean let out a quiet huff of laughter, shaking his head. His grip on your waist tightened, fingers pressing into your skin as his expression flickered with understanding.

You weren’t just talking about tonight—you were talking about him, about the way he had been dancing around this, around you, for way too damn long.

“Yeah, well…” he muttered, his voice lower now, rougher. “Guess I wanted to do it right.”

And with that, he kissed you.

It was soft at first—tentative, testing—like he was waiting for you to pull away, waiting to see if this was real. His lips brushed against yours once, twice, before you sighed into him, melting against his chest. That did it.

A quiet groan rumbled in his throat as he pulled you closer, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading into your wet hair. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried at first, but heat coiled between you like a spark catching fire.

You pressed closer, your arms wrapping tight around his neck, and Dean responded instantly. His grip on you tightened, pulling you flush against him as his tongue traced the seam of your lips, parting them with a hunger that sent a shiver through you.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, making him groan into your mouth as his hands flexed at your hips, like he couldn’t get enough.

The water rippled around you, and there was the potential for onlookers, but neither of you cared.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you smirked against his lips, your chest rising and falling in sync with his. Pressing against him teasingly, you purred, “You know, you really had nothing to be embarrassed about, Winchester. Your dignity is well endowed.”

Then, just to drive it home, you nipped at the shell of his ear, tugging it lightly between your teeth before soothing the spot with a soft flick of your tongue.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your waist tightening, fingers digging into your damp skin like he was barely holding himself together. His pulse pounded beneath your lips, his body rigid beneath you—until something in him just snapped.

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me.” He husked and with a low, guttural groan, he crushed his mouth to yours again; the kiss hot, desperate—like he was drunk on the taste of you, on the way you pressed against him, on everything he’d spent too damn long trying to resist.

His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them tight as he pressed you even closer, swallowing the gasp you let out.

The world around you blurred, lost to the haze of him—of the water lapping around you, of the heat coiling between you like a live wire. And this time, neither of you were stopping.

AN: Who doesn't love a flustered Dean? And good lord Sammy and his relentless teasing 😂. It all worked out in the end though 😜. Thanks again for the request @beakaleak32 💜

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester/series Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown

@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel

@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27

@idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith

@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse

@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes

@rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas

[emeraldcrs]

i would grab his hair and ride him until i became completely sore *wet and skin slapping skin sounds* (i'm totally a virgin)

♡tags: @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @briiverse @bejeweledinterludes @littlesoulshine @cowboysandcigarettes @soangelbaby @sugardean @angelblqde @sunsbaby @soldierboysdoll @scrmqwn @1967barracuda @thekhloediary @hischrrypie @pieandflannel @jays-bonnie-on-the-side

[endversecastielobsessor]

He’s a martyr.

Castiel went to super mega turbo hell so Jensen and Misha could fuck dirty on season 5 of The Boys

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 2 - Burial

Main Masterlist - Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, very light fluff, mutual pining, time loop!

Summary/Warnings: You have a talk with Sam, and try to figure out what the hell is going on with this time loop. Usual Warnings.

Author's Note: Gotta love a montage episode. Enjoy!

Word Count: 5.6k

Read on A03!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

“And this is-“ Sam shakes his head, rubbing his forehead as he frowns into the air. “How many loops did you say you’d gone through-“

“Five.” You mutter, kicking a rock with the tip of your shoe. “This is number five.”

Sam gives you an apologetic sigh. “I mean, that’s not half bad. I did mine like, a hundred times.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And you said yours doesn’t have a reset point?”

You swallow, and kick another rock. This one bounces a little further. “You’re gonna have to explain that again.”

“Most time loops have a reset point-“

You give him a flat look. “Most time loops?”

Sam winces, running a hand through his hair. “In movies.”

“So we’re going off of movies-“

“I’ve only lived through one time loop,” Sam mutters your name with a grimace. “And it had a reset point. Every time loop movie has a reset point. Unless you know anyone else-“

“No.” You sigh. Third rock. All the way into the gutter of the road. “Sorry, it’s just- Long five days.”

He nods, and there’s a moment of silence, the only sounds in the world birds and the distant rush of cars as you and Sam sit on the curb of the highway. 

You’ve been here almost an hour. Soon Dean is going to notice that you’re both missing, and that the last thing he’d seen of you was a blur and shout sprinting past him and leaving without explanation. He’ll send Cas to find you, if you’re not careful. Or worse, he’ll track you down himself.

“Reset point?” Sam prompts, and you sigh, frowning at the pavement.

“It’s- I don’t remember-“

“In a lot of time loops it’s only falling asleep.” He offers. “But sometimes it’s like- an event. Mine was Dean dying.”

You blink at him, and pray he can’t see the obvious panic eating up your throat. “I- did he always die-“

“Every fucking time.”

“Oh.”

“It’s- that was supposed to be the lesson. That I couldn’t save him.” The last word is a little choked, and you hug your knees to your chest as the silence stretches on.

You could have it worse.

This isn’t great, but you could really have it worse.

“Is Dean a part of your reset point?”

You shake your head, keeping your eyes set on the ground. Fourth rock, lost somewhere in the grass. 

“But- do you have one-“

“Someone will- I’ll be told a secret,” you mumble. “Or a lie, or something. Then it will reset.”

Sam frowns at you. “Or something?”

“It’s only loop five, Sam, I haven’t been taking notes.”

“Fair. Will, uh- If I tell you secret, will it reset?”

You shrug. You’re going to have to come up with a better lie next time.

Or you could tell Sam the truth. That every reset point is a very specific person, telling you a very specific secret.

But you’re already exhausted. And Sam will want to talk about it.

The truth is something that can be saved for loop one hundred. Dire last resorts.

Right now, you don’t really know what it means yourself, and you’d rather not have the I may be in love with Dean, and that might be having consequences conversation right now. You don’t want to think about how Dean’s I love you’s are all probably part of this horrible, twisted prank from the universe, and if you say it back, you’ll be saying it to a ghost. You’ll mean it. He won’t.

You don’t hate yourself enough to break your cardinal rule of don’t think about it, don’t entertain it, and never tell Dean just because you’re suddenly caught in a time loop.

“Probably not.“ You mutter. “It’s- I don’t know. Hard to explain.”

Sam just nods, frowning at the air as he wrings his hands, his words slow and careful. “The best gamble I have for this is a trickster, but- I don’t understand why he’d target you.”

You tilt your head at him. “I mean- Hasn’t Gabriel been dead for years-“

“I don’t think death has ever really stuck to the people we know.” Sam mutters, his voice dry. “And there might be multiple tricksters. I found mine because he was the only thing that ever changed, but- It took a while. You might be here,” He gestures around to the air. “For a… while.”

“Awesome.” You mutter. Fifth rock. Gutter again. “So just wait for someone to change?”

Sam nods. “How many people did you see, on the first day?”

“You. Dean. Cas.” You frown, counting off on your fingers. “I went to the grocery store on the first loop, but that was pretty much it. And the third loop I went to get Dean from a bar-“

Sam makes an odd face. “Why was Dean at a- Did you guys fight?”

You blink at him. “No, we didn’t- It’s Dean, why wouldn’t he be at a bar?”

“When was the last time you saw him go to bar,” Sam says your name, his expression making you think there’s something obvious that you’re being stupid for missing. “I mean- I knew he wanted to talk to you-“

“Talk to me?” Your voice is a squeak, and you think your nails are going to leave a mark on your skin. “I- Why would he-“

“It’s, uh-“ Sam swallows, giving you an apologetic look before returning his gaze to the ground. “I can’t tell you. It’s a Dean conversation.”

You’re about to push it further, ask what the fuck a Dean conversation is, but Sam moves on, and your mouth snaps shut.

“We should head back soon, or Dean might tear up the state looking for us. You might just have to ride it out, but-“ Sam runs a hand through his hair, glancing down the road as if Dean might appear, storming towards you with a shout. 

He won’t. 

But Cas might.

“If you need me,” Sam gives you a weak, toothless smile. “Tell me, uh, it’s been a long Tuesday, and I’ll understand.”

You nod wearily, and a shout of your name breaks through the air.

Dean didn’t send Cas.

“What the hell are you two doing?” He’s storming down the road, shotgun in hand as he scans over you and Sam on the curb, obviously assessing you for injuries. “Just running out of the bunker, not telling me where you’re going, then vanishing for two goddamn hours-“

“We’re fine, Dean-“

“Shut it, Sam. Something could’ve happened to you, we don’t know what’s in these woods-“

You raise your brows at him. “A crazy man with a shotgun?”

Sam snorts, and Dean looks like he’s going to strangle you. It was a low blow. You’re going to need to work on patience a little bit more, if Sam is right.

At this pace, you’ll have stabbed someone, or gotten stabbed yourself, before loop seventy-five.

“You think you’re funny,” Dean snaps your name, his grip on the gun white-knuckled. “But we’ve hunted fucking vamps and wolves out here, kid-“

“Don’t call me kid-“

“Then don’t run off in the middle of the goddamn night like one-“

“It’s noon!” You gape at him. “I- Sam is with me-“

Dean rolls his eyes, his voice only a grunt. “Should’ve taken me to your secret little meeting-“

“Our- What is going on with you-“

“You were gone for hours!” He snaps, and Sam only sighs, as if he’s been waiting for whatever this is to snap. “I- I was fucking worried-“

“Why-“

“Because I love you! And I don’t want you to get fucking hurt,” Dean shouts your name, and you think you physically deflate.

Fuck.

“You- I can’t not worry when I-“

“Yeah, you love me.” You run a hand over your face, and there’s the light. If this is a trickster, you’re going to need have a serious conversation with them—involving a lot of guns and knives—about what constitutes a joke, and how this is more of a Sisyphean-like torture, vaulting you up to heaven, only for you to know you’ll always crash right back down. “I know. See you guys tomorrow.”

Everything fades to black, but you can still see Dean staring at you, looking as if you’d shot him right through the chest.

——————

You’ve been here before.

You’re going to be here a while. Staring at the ceiling, tangled in blankets but without sheets, listening to Dean sing down the hallway and counting down the seconds until-

“Son of a bitch!”

Take six.

Sam said to find the Trickster. That he’d be the only thing that changed.

But things have changed. Not the set you’ve been plunged into—a cruel, mocking twist of your life where everything seems designed to torture you, entrapping you in a vicious cycle of your favorite dream, made into a nightmare—but the script. They always come back to the same lines, but you’d found ways to pry new things out of them. 

You’re not really sure what that means.

You’re going to have to figure it out. 

You wander into the kitchen a little later than usual, and Dean has already cleaned up his breakfast mess. He’s scowling at the fridge, and before he can greet you, and you take the cereal out of the cabinet to place it on the counter.

“I’m going grocery shopping with Cas later,” you tell him, grabbing your apple and dropping onto a stool. “Ice your hand, Winchester.”

“I, uh-“ Dean glances down at his palm, then back to you with a frown. “How’d you-“

“I heard the pan fall. And you forgot the cleaner wipes.” You nod to the floor, where little bits of bacon are still scattered across the tile. “I know you’re better at cleaning than that, Dean.”

He shrugs, moving to sit at your side. “Didn’t know where they were-“

“Liar.” You block him with a hand, narrowing your eyes. “Ice.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’m fine-“

“That’s a second-degree burn, dumbass. Ice.”

He scans over you with a slight frown, but gives in all the same.

Dean ices his burn. Sam returns from his run, and Dean looks like a keyed car but that’s a simile, not a metaphor, and they fight about running as a concept. Ten miles, and Sam needs a shower. Dean would tear a hamstring.

“I’m not going to run with you, Sam.” You turn your apple core in your hand, and you already sound exhausted. “You were gone for like, seven hours. That’s too long.”

Sam shrugs. “I’d call it impressive-“

“That’s because you’re insane.” 

“See, Sammy? Some of us got priorities.” Dean grins, and squeezes your thigh. “That’s my girl.”

Sparks. Sunlight. Open wound. 

This is going to suck. 

You throw up when Cas transports you to the grocery store, and you really need to just stop fucking eating that apple. 

Cas is stuck on the Oreos. You try to direct him from the mint to the vanilla, but he seems entranced by the mint and double-stuffed for Cas reasons, and you end up with a box of both. Dean will take drastic measures for bacon. You get cherry pie instead of pumpkin, Cas gets honey, and you decide to buy two tubs of ice because you’re having a shit fucking day.

“Forgive me if I am overstepping.” Cas says at the checkout line, and you sigh, focusing your attention on the different flavors of gum on display. “But I am… more perceptive than most-“

“I know I have feelings for Dean.” You cut him off with a flat voice. “I’m not going to tell him.”

Cas frowns. “I firmly believe that it would be to both your benefits to have a conversation-“

“Drop it, Cas. I’m serious.”

He drops it. 

You get back to the bunker, throw up, and bring Dean the pie this time, passing it to him without a word before dropping in your chair.

“You’re an angel, sweetheart.” He whispers, and when you look up, he’s gaping at you the same way he did in the kitchen, two loops ago. Like you’re priceless, and he’s afraid of that. “You know that?”

“No,” you mumble, pulling a book into your lap. “He’s putting the food away.”

Dean doesn’t snort this time. He just keeps staring at you, leaning forward in his chair as if his body isn’t fully in control.

Fuck. 

“I love you,” he says it like it’s a weapon. Like he’s trying to wield the words best he can to convince you. “You gotta know that, right? You’re an angel, and I fuckin’ love you.”

You give him a soft smile, and let out a long breath. 

The light clicks off.

“Yeah. I know.”

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

“Son of a bitch!”

Cleaner. You manage to dodge the squeeze of your thigh when you step over Dean on the floor, but barely. Cereal and marshmallows. Burn and ice and running, similes and metaphors, and you don’t eat the apple, but when you get to the grocery store you still end up talking about Oreos, and Cas is more perceptive than most. 

Dean will take drastic measures for bacon.

You get apple pie instead of cherry. It doesn’t change anything. 

You’re an angel, sweetheart, you know that?

No, he’s putting the pie away.

Sam comes in, then leaves.

You still seeing that guy from the city?

Small, strange fight. Dean storms off, and calls you in five hours. 

You go for him this time, but you call him and make him find his own way to the car. It strains at your heart as he stumbles into the parking lot—you want him to lean over you and mumble in your ear, to call you baby and walk you back to a wall and kiss you until you’re moaning and stupid—but you’ve played out going inside before.

And none of this will matter when you’re back here in a few loops anyway. You’ll let yourself go inside them.

Dean leans in the window, a wide, sloppy grin over his face as he slurs out your name. “You’re- Shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty-“

“I know, Dean.” You sigh, nodding to the passenger’s seat. “Get in the car.”

He shakes his head, a large hand reaching inside the car to hold your chin, angling it to force your gaze onto his drunken, glossed-over eyes. “No, ya’ don’t. Don’t get it. More than pretty, baby- I gotta- needed to tell you something-“

“Dean-“

He slams his lips to yours, and you almost go slack. He still tastes like whiskey, and this time you can smell the evergreen of his aftershave, and it’s all somehow better than the first time. He’s more desperate, and impossibly less controlled. Biting at your lower lip and all but shoving his tongue down your throat before starting to kiss and suck a line over your jaw, humming when you whimper and smirking against your skin.

When he pulls back, there’s the blown-out adoration and affection all over his face once more. 

And he just leaves. Stands up, stumbles his way around the car, and drops in the passenger’s seat with a wide, toothy, dazed grin.

You swallow, and start the car.

Maybe you’ll make it to the end of the night without an incident. Maybe you won’t get to come back to the bar, because you’d somehow tamed whatever had come over Dean in all the past loops, and he’d kissed you without saying the thing, so you were free-

Dean’s hand finds your thigh, and he squeezes. Sparks and sunlight and raw and fuck-

“I love you.” He says your name, and when you glance at him, he’s watching you with the priceless expression. “You’re- Yeah. Love you.”

You can’t say anything. The light is turning off, but your words are stuck in your throat.

You just tangle your fingers with his, squeeze his hand three times, and everything fades to black. 

——————

You’ve been here before. 

You don’t make it out of the kitchen this time. You get out of bed in time to see Dean drop the pan, and you’re grabbing the ice before he can even greet you.

It’s alright, sweetheart, I’m fine-

You mumble the words along with him as you grab his hand, trace your fingers lighting over the thin, blistering mark, and press the ice right over his hand.

Holding it there.

Right until you look up, and he’s looking at you like you’re priceless.

This kiss is slower. More careful. His free hand moves to cup your face, and his lips are cautious on yours, like he’s afraid he’ll set off some sort of bomb.

“I love you.” He mummers against your lips, and you ignore it, just deepening the kiss as the light turns off.

You’ll hear him say it again tomorrow.

The taste of coffee and smell of evergreen stick to your mind long after everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

You almost glide through it this time, because maybe playing it through right will be what this calls for. 

The kitchen. Eat the apple then throw it up. Oreos and pie and honey, shut down Cas in the checkout line and make a horrible joke when Dean calls you an angel—it hurts more this time, and you think it might build up to something that turns your whole body to stone, not just your heart—then have a stupid fight about the Suit from the City. 

When Dean calls you, send Cas. When he returns, help him to bed and ignore how he’s calling you pretty. 

You haven’t done this part since the first time.

You’d forgotten how hard it was. 

“Dean, you’re holding me really tight-“

“Gotta hold you. You’re gonna leave.”

You sigh, combing your finger through his hair. “I’d never leave you, Dean. Never.”

You don’t think you said leave you last time.

That’s probably why things move just an inch faster.

“Good. Can’t do it… Don’t- you need to be here, baby. Need you.” He hums, and you shiver, but his voice is softer than the first time.

Here it comes. 

“Love you.”

“I know.” You whisper, and the light goes off. “Go to sleep, Dean.”

The first snore tears through the air, and everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

You’ve made no progress towards leaving.

Son of a bitch!

You need to avoid him. If you’re going to find the trickster in here, you priority can’t be thinking about Dean, and when he’ll say it, and if he’ll kiss you again this time. 

The only places you see other people are at the grocery store and the bar. 

You eat the apple and throw it up—for consistency—and no one changes or gives a sign that they’re in on this.

Instead of sitting with Dean in the library, you hide in your room, hoping you’ll be able to check out the bar and still manage to avoid him.

Dean ends up at the bar anyway.

When you go to get him, you realize your mistake the second you see him. 

He doesn’t wait until you’ve paid his tab this time. He pulls you right between his legs, picks you up, and sets you on the bar as he kisses you. Going until the room is spinning, right before shouting that he loves you for the whole bar to hear.

The light goes off as you let out a heavy breath, drop your head onto his chest and cling to his shoulders as he presses a kiss to your brow and repeats the words.

Quieter. Only for you to hear.

It’s the first time he’s said it twice.

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

This time you make Cas get Dean, and then go investigate the bar yourself.

Nothing’s changed, and before you can leave Dean pops in front of you—Cas at his side, giving you an apologetic look—and hauls you into his arms, shouting about your safety the same as he had on the curb with Sam.

“Dean-“

“You can’t just fucking vanish like that,” he snaps at you, his anger seeming to have sobered him up in half a heartbeat. “I- You freaked me the hell out-“

“I’m fine-“

“But what if you weren’t.”

“But I am.”

“But-“

You sigh, dropping your head onto his shoulder. You’re too tired to fight, and he’s big and warm, and you don’t really like this loop enough to drag it on. “Why do you care.” You mutter, try to draw it out of him, so you can wake up semi-rested, in your bed without sheets. “It’s not like I’m a child-“

“No, but I-“ He cuts himself off, and now he’s reluctant to say it. “It doesn’t matter.“

You’re so tired. “Pussy.”

His steps freeze, his voice dropping to almost a growl. “Excuse me?”

“Just say it, Dean, you fucking pussy.” You lean back, holding his glare with your own. This is cruel, but you just want to start over. You’d avoided him all day for nothing, and now he’s mad and you feel like stone and you just want it to be over. “Say it.”

“Say what-“

“Why the fuck do you care what I do or don’t do-“

“Because you’re my- You-“ He sets you down on the roof of a random car, running a hand over his face. “Sweetheart, what the hell are you trying to-“

“Why are you getting so fucking drunk, Dean. Why do you care if I’m fucking the suit from the city?!”

His eyes widen. “You’re-“

“Yeah, I’m fucking him. What are you going to do about it, you fucking-“

Kiss. Rough, bruising, angry kiss that’s like a shot of heroine to your bloodstream, and big, rough hands tugging at your hair as you moan down his throat.

“I love you, you fucking brat. I’m going to fuck you so good you never even think about anyone else.” Dean shoves his knee between your thighs, drawing out a high whine from your lips. “You got that?”

“Yeah. I do.” You smile against his lips, and the light goes off. “Thank you.”

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

Blanket. No sheets. You mouth son of a bitch right as Dean shouts it, and you’ve really gotten the hang of this.

Dean needs to ice his hand, and when he says it’s alright, sweetheart, I’m fine, you say it at the exact same time, dropping your voice to mimic his.

He stares at you. “How’d you-“

You shrug, and point to the fridge. “Ice. And there’s cereal in the cabinet, but no milk. I-“

You pause, glancing at the apples on the counter. You’re hungry. 

Maybe you won’t go shopping today.

“I’ll give you a list to go shopping later.” You grab the apple—the fucker is going to stay in your stomach, this time around—and sit down at the counter. “Take Cas, he can carry more things.”

Dean frowns. “I can carry things-“

“I know you can, Dean. Cas can carry more. Ice your fucking hand.”

He stares at you, making no effort to move to the freezer. “You feeling okay? You’re- you seem a bit, I dunno, touchy-“

“I’m fine-“

Dean shakes his head, dropping down next you and placing his hand on your thigh. Sparks. Sunlight. 

This is going to kill you.

“Look,” he says your name carefully, and you might end up throwing up without Cas. “You know you can, I dunno, talk to me, right? About anything, even if it’s really freakin’ dumb?”

You let out a long breath, burying your face in your hands as your heart turns back to that tight stone. “Yeah, I know. It’s Lucky Charms in the cabinet, Dean. Hand,” you poke him right over the burn, and he winces. “Then you can eat your marshmallows.”

He’s staring at you again. It’s the expression. The one that’s warning you what’s coming, and-

“Dude, what’s wrong with you.” Sam walks into the kitchen, and Dean scowls. “You look like a keyed car.”

“It’s a simile,” you tell Dean, before anything can get away from you. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s been a long Tuesday.”

Sam’s eyes flash, his mouth opening and closing, and it worked. 

“You- uh, you’re sure-“

“Positive.” You mumble, and Dean coughs, saying your name slowly.

“It’s a Friday-“

You frown at him, shaking your head. “It’s Saturday-“

“No, Dean’s right.” Sam gives you an odd look. “It’s Friday.”

You blink between them, and pull out your phone.

It is Friday.

You could’ve sworn it was Saturday. This whole time, you’ve been certain it was Saturday.

Sam clears his throat. “Dean, uh- You should go get the groceries.”

Dean shakes his head. “You freakin’ do it, I’m-“

“You’re not busy.” Sam rolls his eyes, moving further into the kitchen. “And I just ran ten miles, dude. I need a shower.”

You tune out the rest of the conversation. You’ve heard it before. Hamstrings and junk food, and when Sam finally gets Dean to go find Cas for food—texting him the list instead—you remember at the last second to add a second text to Cas, telling him to get cherry pie instead of pumpkin.

“You’re- uh.” Sam scratches the back of his neck once you’re alone, watching you carefully. “Time loop, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“And this is-“ Sam shakes his head, rubbing his brow as he frowns into the air. “How many-“

“Lost count.” You mutter. “Can’t find a trickster, by the way. I kept getting-“ You cut yourself off with a sigh, a hundred Dean’s saying love you echoing around in your head like the most beautifully horrible chorus in the world. “Never mind. You wanna watch a movie?”

Sam blinks at you. “A- What?”

“I know Dean has some time loop movies.” You glance out to the hall, letting out a long breath. “You told me that’s all we had to go off of-“

“I did?” Sam frowns. “When did I-“

“Time loop, Sam.”

“Oh, uh- Right.” He gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry. Kind of forgot-“

“’S fine. I don’t care. Movies?”

“Yeah, uh, sure.” Sam doesn’t try to stand, just staring at you with a slight frown. “Do you know your- Did I tell you about reset points-“

You nod, swallowing down a lump in your throat. You’re too tired to lie, this time around. “I have one. It’s- Dean tells me a secret.”

Sam raises his brows. “A secret? Is it- Did he talk to you.”

“He talks to me all the time, Sam-“

Sam says your name, his voice flat. “You know that’s not what I meant. Did he? Talk to you, I mean-“

“Yeah.” You sigh. “He did. Does. Every time. And then,” you snap your fingers, grimacing slightly, and Sam frowns.

“Do you, uh, what have you said back?”

You’ve never said anything back.

You really don’t want to talk about it.

“Can we please just watch the movies?” You look up with a pleading expression before Sam can answer. “Please.”

Sam sighs, but nods, and follows you to the Dean Cave without another word.

Dean doesn’t have as many time loop movies as you’d thought, so you start to look online while Sam makes popcorn. Dean’s out getting groceries with Cas. He won’t be home for a few hours, and that’s all the more time before you’re in danger of him finding you and saying it. Before the reset point hits, and you have to explain everything to Sam again. 

You get through two and half movies, scratching likely useless notes on a piece of paper, avoiding Sam’s pointed looks when the answer on the screen is confront your flaws.

Telling Dean you love him won’t help. Even if it’s not a trickster, you’re still pretty certain it’s not real. This is Dean. He’s not good with his emotions, let alone being vulnerable with them, and—even if he really did feel something for you, out there in the real world—you think he’d eat a bullet before he’d just say he loves you. 

Even if Sam keeps claiming he was going to talk to you, that might just be another part of the loop that isn’t real. 

The first time you’d drifted through this day, Dean hadn’t said the thing. The only real time you’d woken up in a bed without sheets, you’d put Dean to bed and left him there without another word. 

So love isn’t the answer here. Not when it’s not even real.

And Sam isn’t being helpful, with all those fucking looks. He’s barely even paying attention the movies—he keeps trying to talk to you about the next case, vamps, but you don’t really care—watching them like they’re the most boring thing he’s ever seen whenever his eyes flick up.

And Dean is Dean.

So when he bursts into the room with a tub of ice cream—the same ice cream you’d gotten with Cas on your grocery runs—he’s immediately dropping at your side, kicking his feet up and grinning at you like you’re the only thing in the world.

“You know, it’s pretty freakin’ rude to watch my movies without me, sweetheart-“

You shrug, giving him a half-apologetic smile. “You were out-“

“Coulda waited for me. I love- Uh-“ He looks back to the screen with a small frown. “What movie is this?”

You snort. “Happy Death Day.”

“I didn’t know I owned that one-“

“You don’t. I rented it.” Sam cuts in from his chair, not looking up from his laptop. “Hey, Dean, have you ever heard of the any vamps that-“

Dean turn the volume all the way up, shooting you a wink and passing the ice cream into your hands.

“Got this for you. And I’d share my pie, but it’s, uh-“

You give him a soft smile. “You ate it all, didn’t you.”

“You know me so well.” He grins at you for another, long second, and turns back to the TV.

Four more movies. Almost all of them end by either finding the person who put them there—you’d tried that, hadn’t worked—or finding the right thing to do, and doing it.

That won’t work here either. 

“Are we only gonna watch these time loop movies-“

“Yes.” 

Dean sighs, tipping his head back to rest on the couch. “Alright. Can I get some beer?”

You give him an amused look. “What are you gonna do if I say no?”

“Uh- Get it anyway?”

You raise your brows, and he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, kid.”

You shrug, looking back to the TV and ignoring the stone over your heart. “I didn’t say anything, buddy.”

“Don’t-“ Dean cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Sammy, you want a beer?”

“Sure. You, uh-“ He glances up to Dean with a frown, lowing his voice as if you won’t still be able to hear it. “You gonna do the-“

“Beer.” Dean claps his hands together, pushing off the couch and ignoring Sam entirely. “Be right-“

You grab his wrist, and he seems to freeze under your touch. 

“I- uh-“

“Do I not get a beer?” You ask, and his shoulders visibly relax as a half-smirk tugs at his lips.

“Not after last night, sweetheart.”

You frown at him. “Last- Huh?”

His smirk grows. “You don’t remember it, do you?”

You release his wrist.  “I- remember-“

“You got wasted last night, sweetheart.” He scans you over, the smirk only growing. “You threw up on Sammy.”

“And the floor. And her bed.” Sam mutters from his seat, shooting you a grimacing look of apology. “Don’t feel bad, Dean just wasn’t fast enough.”

Your head is spinning, starting to cloud over with that fog from the first few loops. Like a hazy veil is covered purposefully and carefully over your eyes. “I- Dean?”

“I was fast, man,” he snaps, glaring at Sam. “you were in the way-“

“Dean.” You squeeze his hand, trying to steady yourself or check he’s real or something, and he blinks at you. “What did I do?”

“You’re a lightweight, sweetheart-“

“No- I-“ You frown at him. “No, I’m not-“

“With absinthe you are.” Sam shrugs, and you gape at him.

“Absinthe?” You half-squeak. “Who gave me-“

Dean snort. “You gave you absinthe. You stole it from Cas.”

“I- Oh.” 

That does sound like you.

“Did I- I meant like, did I do anything stupid.” You mumble, releasing Dean’s wrist and staring at your hands. “Or just vomit on Sam.”

“You were- Nothing you do is stupid.” Dean says that like it’s fact, and you’re going to maybe get drunk on nothing at all. “You just got all rambly and touchy. Nothing worse than normal.”

“Dean had to put you to bed.”

“Sam-“

“You did?” You cut Dean off with soft words, and he lets out a long breath, running a hand over his face. “De-“

“Yeah, I did.” He mutters. “Got you into your room, cleaned you up and changed you, but, uh- I kept my eyes off the goods-“

He gestures to your chest, Sam snorts, and you both elect to ignore him.

Nothing else is really more important than Dean right now. Looking at you. Into you. Right to your pounding heart, and still talking.

“You kinda vomited on the sheets, so I put them in the wash. Tried to offer you my bed but you, uh-“ His whole face is red. You wish Sam would fucking leave the room. “You said not like that and then passed out. So I found some non-contaminated blankets and, yeah.”

“Why?” Your voice is barely a breath, and Dean just shrugs, never breaking your gaze.

“Because I love you.”

Something bright and cool washes over you as Dean just stares at you. He’d taken care of you. Before you were trapped in here, he’d been taking care of you, and that didn’t feel like something a trickster had made him do. You know, somewhere in your gut, that it was just Dean.

Caring for you. 

The light goes off, but something clear is blooming over your ribs.

You open your mouth, ready scream it right back to him, but everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

And this time, maybe—if you do this right, and movies are as a reliable a source as Sam claims—you won’t have to be here again.

End Note: Someone show Cas that Dropout Brennan Lee Mulligan Oreo video right now.

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