#dean winchester uses his words
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Profoundly Different - amireal, tiamatv - Supernatural [Archive of Our Own]
"Castiel?" Sam calls out, carefully. Both of them lower their guns but don’t put them away, yet: there’s no sign of a struggle, but the guy did just break out of an insane asylum by squishing an orderly. With a bureau that he shouldn't have been able to move. "We're not gonna hurt you. We're here to help. My name is Sam. This is my brother, Dean."
There's a loud silence. Dean can hear the wind rustling through the structure.
A deep voice suddenly speaks up. It’s coarse and raspy and sounds like it hurts coming out; he’s never heard anything like it. It sends shivers down Dean's spine.
"Dean?” the man asks. “Dean Winchester?"
(A Season 4 AU: what if the fallen angel Dean and Sam ran into was Castiel, not Anna?)
#fic rec#destiel#apocalypse#canon divergence#twins cas and jimmy#fallen angel cas#feelings#dean winchester uses his words#professor cas
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this is dean directly speaking to us with the fanfiction writing power and living outside of the narrative he's trapped in, asking us to do what chuck and the cw don't allow him to have
#spn#spn 10x05#fanfiction writing#destiel fanfiction#fanfic writing#fanfiction#dean x castiel#deancas#destiel#spn meta#supernatural#fanfic#spn fandom#dean winchester#like it's a direct plea#he wants us to create destiel fanfiction#notice how the camera is placed like he's diectly speaking to US in the girl's place?#spn writers who tried doing it are speaking through dean's words#dean the character is asking us to let his dreams come alive outside of the narrative he's can't escape from#and us... we're just gonna have to keep making his wish come true#let's keep writing pals#dean wants you to write destiel fics#he told us
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jokes aside i always thought it was worth noting that the second dean found real bonds outside of his family he pretty much gave up sex when on screen (until he was a demon but thats a whole can of worms). the moment a steady cast of supporting characters comes in, dean drops the womanizer act like it was burning him up. for simplicity’s sake id say the first long-lasting supporting character we get that isn’t familial would be cas, and sometime around season 5 we no longer see dean hopping bars, bragging about what he’ll do that night. there’s obviously slice girls (s7), but aside from that iirc the only times dean is in a bar, it’s to talk or to drink. as the seasons go on and we collect a small cast of semi-longstanding allies who aren’t even implied to be romantic interests (jody, charlie, kevin, garth, etc), dean’s supposedly salacious nature disappears like it never existed. he makes jokes sometimes but, really, from what i remember, any pursuit of a night out with a stranger is pretty much eviscerated from any on-screen dialogue as early as s5 or 6.
and THEN to open the demon dean ordeal- it’s really interesting that the moment he drops his connections, he goes back to his early season tendencies. it feels like with him, he either has sex or personal bonds, and when friends appear sex is dropped pretty much entirely. personally i choose to interpret it as dean preferring fulfillment from close bonds, and not truly caring for sex as much as the viewer is led to believe.
#okay gang heres how asexual dean can still win#his general disinterest in dating could also be used to make points for aro dean too#also i want to note that rufus is actually the first non familial support we see#but hes a little bit outside the winchesters direct sphere of socialization#anyways sorry if this is word vomit im so bad at typing#spn#originals
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You don't know how to write a fix it fic after episode 15x18 "Despair"? Let me help you a little bit (well it's more like let Jensen help you with one of his songs):
Dean would still hope deep deep deep down that Cas would come back because he always did. He came back once from the Empty maybe he can do it again.
"How far will you go
You should know
You'll be on my mind
Said you were leavin'
But never said when you'd be comin' back home and
I can't wait another day"
But Dean would also miss him and feel miserable without him. He would feel empty and would no longer want to live.
"Ride with me
Round the lakeside
Got a raincoat and a veil
It's been so long since you went away
Took all of your lovin' and left me with nothin' and
When you go
What a shame"
And Dean would think that he deserved to lose Cas and that it was his fault the angel died. He would remember all those memories and wouldn't believe he didn't see Cas's love for him. He, who always thought his love was unrequited, would realize how wrong he was.
"Maybe I deserved it
To be left this way
I'm not sure
How I was so blind"
Dean would want Cas's love back, would want Cas back. But if he comes back he might become insane from the fear to lose him again or simply because he will be consumed by this love or just that he would lose his mind if Cas had to keep his love for himself again (lots of possibilities for this one).
"All I know's that if you return it
And kept it here to stay
I'd lose my mind
I'd lose my mind"
Despite the lack of will to live, despite thinking this is what he deserves, despite the fear, despite all that, he would try anything to get him back from the Empty. He would go to the end of the world for him.
"Cause you know
I'd go to the end of the world for you
To the end of the world for you"
#destiel#deancas#dean winchester#castiel#return to me#radio company#inspiration to write a fix it fic#spn 15x18#Despair#we already know how insane jensen is for writing watching over me#but i think this song is underrated#because it could also be about dean and his feelings for cas#he just didn't tell us about it#or just didn't tell misha so he couldn't tell us#or maybe he hasn't realized yet that dean took over the vessel while writing it#dean did go to the end of the word for cas#remember purgatory?#anyone?#anyway I keep singing it in my mind lately#that's why I had to let this out#my random thoughts about destiel
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Do you agree w/ the fandom interpretation that john was so homophobic he’d have beaten up and abandoned his sons for being gay? Cause sure, he grew up in the 60s as a mechanic and then later became a marine during the vietnam war, but i also don’t think homophobia would’ve necessarily been a priority for him? Like obviously he’s not gonna be the full on supportive and politically correct loving dad, but i think that the fandom’s general opinion on that is pretty warped by people’s relationships w/ their own fathers
I do think this is one place where people tend to project. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that; working out our issues through fiction is healthy and good! I don’t think there’s any canon proof of it beyond, as you said, him being a marine from the sixties who would probably not be super knowledgeable about being queer, maybe a little apprehensive about it from what he’s absorbed through the culture he grew up in. I think we’d be correct to point out that if Sam or Dean were queer, he might be uncomfortable about it, he might try to avoid the topic, which is in of itself hurtful.
The thing about me is: I fully disagree that John was ever physically abusive towards his kids. At most, I will bend this interpretation to say he was probably too harsh on them while teaching them to fight and that maybe he and Sam have traded blows before when arguments got too loud (by blows, I mean, probably shoving with the yelling, you know, assertion of physical space. It seems realistic to me that two people who have been using violence for a long time to protect themselves, and for John, his family, down to the hierarchal power he’s put in place of him -> Dean -> Sam, would resort to it when things got too heated.)
(I also think that sometimes fandom’s insistence that John had to be physically abusive can sometimes get a little insulting because it perpetuates the idea that emotional abuse does less harm and can be overlooked and for flattening out John’s character in a way the show very literally pointed to and said He Did Not Do That. This is the entire point of Max’s episode in s1, for the show to point out that their experiences of abuse were different. How well it was handled is arguable, but I take it as clear evidence that when we talk about John’s relationship with his sons, the focus should be on the emotional abuse, the codependency he developed with Dean from a very young age, his neglect of them both, his attempts to suppress Sam, etc. And I appreciate this about the show, because you can’t talk about any of those things without also talking about why they’re happening, why John thinks this is necessary, how he loves his sons and isolates them to protect them and ends up doing more and more damage that will never leave them through their entire lives.
I’m sure there’s depictions of John being physically abusive that handle it with the same amount of nuance that the show handles him being emotionally abusive in canon. I have not seen them, unfortunately. I’ve seen John being physically abusive 90% of the time just being used as shorthand for him being Bad and Evil and A Terrible Father. Which does not interest me. So I will remain here as a staunch defender of He Would Not Fucking Hit His Kids.)
Sorry, okay, we got off topic there this is about gay shit.
The point of All Of That was for me to be able to say, John’s not going to react to his sons being queer by beating them. He’s definitely not going to abandon them. Hello? John Winchester? Abandon his kids? John Winchester, the guy who has been keeping them in warded up motel rooms their whole lives and moving them across the country out of paranoia the demon who killed his wife could find them if they say anywhere too long? John Winchester who only trusted one or two people to ever look after his sons when he went on a hunting trip too long? We think that John would ditch his kid because they’re queer???
Like I said, I think the most realistic reaction for John, (if not just flat out him going ‘that’s fine, now load this gun while I time you because that’s more important for me to know that you can do’, because. He kind of has bigger priorities to worry about here. Like werewolves.) would be discomfort and pushing it out of his view, ignoring it. Which would still fucking hurt! And would have horrible effects on Sam and Dean both, would encourage Dean to repress it if he thinks his dad is ashamed of him, would push Sam away if he trusts John with this fact about himself and can’t be accepted easily.
I just think this is truer to John’s character.
Anyway. If nothing else here persuades anyone reading that John Would Not Fucking Do That, well. He thought his kid was demonspawn, remember? He thought Sam was corrupted and might not be able to be saved. I don’t think you can get more clear queercoding than that, and you know what John’s very telling response was to that information, to finding out something a thousand times more terrifying than Sam being gay ever could be? To refuse to look at it. To insist to himself that whatever Hell wanted with Sam, he wouldn’t let it happen. To tell Dean to take care of it, because even when John is certain that his son might literally become a demon, he could never bring himself to pull the trigger on him. Because he loves Sam.
So like. He literally would not do anything for the much smaller realization that Sam is gay. His son has demon blood that might turn him super evil, and John still wouldn’t hurt him.
I guess what I’m trying to say here is, I try to keep the fact that John loved his sons at the forefront of my mind when I’m writing stuff about him, because I think if you let that slide out of your head, you can very easily make him much worse, much more flat than he was in canon. The real picture of him is just an extremely flawed man in a terrible situation who fucks up his kids as much as he protects them.
And also he wouldn’t care about them being gay because JohnAzazel real and true and they fucked sloppy in that hospital basement-
#this was so many words holy shit I did not need to ramble that much#but I did <3#this is what u get when u send me an ask I have too many thoughts#john winchester#ask#spn#again reiterating that like. it is not a bad thing to work out ur issues through fiction.#hell knows I do. and hell knows I used to be a lot less kind to John BECAUSE daddy issues. so I get it. it’s literally fine. it’s fandom.#u are free to do whatever so long as you aren’t a dick to other people about the character they like that you dont#(…I am going to side eye you if you feel the need to insist john had to be physically abusive because he was just That Bad to his kids.#but that’s more like. ‘I think you might have some unexamined biases about the nuances of abuse.’ more than anything.)#tw abuse#re: John abandoning his kids:#I know Bad Boys(?) has John leaving dean at the boy’s home. uh. personally?#I think that’s just bad writing. I think they misunderstood John’s particular brand of weird relationship to dean.#I don’t tend to count that instance as canon or at least not in the way the show presented it.#but ur mileage obv may vary. it’s just my opinion that that was a later seasons fumble.
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Another Love
[One-shot ficlet] Sam asks Dean about the endverse.
“You said a lot about you, bit about me,” Sam raised a careful brow, “but…”
“What?” Dean already looked a little more guarded as if he knew what was coming.
“Where was Cas?” Sam’s voice was gentle, and he wore an expression to match.
“Ah,” Dean looked away and took a swig of his beer, “Cas was… Cas was there.”
“I was?” Cas’ voice spoke from over Dean’s shoulder and the hunter’s eyes fell shut.
“Yeah…” Dean sighed, “Hey, Cas.”
“You never said…” then it seemed to hit him, “Never change,” he recalled as he took a seat with them at the table.
“Yeah… guess we’re doing this,” Dean rubbed his face with one hand and pulled a flask out of his jacket pocket, “I’m gonna need something stronger.”
“I was… I wasn’t myself, was I?” Cas assessed softly.
“No, but I was…” self-hatred dripped from Dean’s reply, and Sam regretted bringing it up.
It had been so many years, but he’d always wondered, and Dean finally seemed somewhat willing to open up.
“What happened?” Cas laid a hand upon Dean’s own and the hunter stared down at it with a look of regret.
“You, uh…” he took a swig of the flask with his free hand and then set it in front of Cas like an offering.
The Angel removed his hand to take it and accepted a sip if for no other reason than to comfort the man who offered.
“You were human,” Dean began, “And I think you were really sad,” he leaned back, looking away from the two at the table with him, “You didn’t show it, but I could tell…”
“Because of Sam?” Cas asked softly, having heard previously about the other hunter’s possession.
“Maybe, but seemed like it was mostly ‘cause of me,” Dean took another swig, “I think we were… I think they were together… the other us…”
Cas’ posture stiffened and Sam’s brows rose as he listened, mostly forgotten by the other two.
“I- he… the other me… I think he kept it a secret and I think it made you feel…” Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “You were always high or having meaningless sex…” a dark chuckle escaped him, “Think you took a page out of my book with the self-medicating.”
“Dean-“ Sam started, feeling responsible for opening what was clearly a still-healing wound.
“Let me…” he stopped him, “Just… let me get this out.”
Sam silenced himself again, sinking smaller in his corner.
“By the time I got there… He was ready to sacrifice you,” Dean met his eye for the first time since he began his story, “And you were going to let him.”
“Dean, that was not you,” Cas reached across to grip his shoulder, eyes begging for his words to stick, “Zachariah wanted to give you every reason to need to change that fate. You must know his fabrication was just that.”
“Yeah, but he did get some things right,” Dean’s voice wavered, “Didn’t he…”
Cas swallowed, hand loosening and sliding down his arm absentmindedly.
“Yes,” Cas finally affirmed, “I suppose he did.”
Sam’s eyes darted between them, breath held in fear of intruding on something he wasn’t entirely sure he followed, but he had a pretty strong feeling of what was being said between the pair.
“That was the worst case scenario,” Cas continued, “It doesn’t mean it’s what would have come to pass if…” the Angel trailed off as he sought out the right words to say, “If that had…” he looked terrified of his own thoughts, trying unsuccessfully to keep in what he desperately wanted to express, “That is not the man you became, Dean.”
“Nothing from that world actually happened, but I was always afraid I’d… ruin you…” Dean took another large gulp, “All the Angels said it! The moment you touched me in hell, you were lost! That I ruined you!”
“To them, you did,” Cas was now the one gazing down at the table and lost in his own thoughts, “But that is not my opinion of what happened.”
“It’s not?” Dean’s voice crackled under the strain of keeping his emotions from surfacing.
“No,” Cas’ lips tilted upward fondly, “You saved me, Dean… I was nothing of my own before you.”
“When your powers started weakening, I thought…” he shook his head, eyes falling onto the hand that still clung to his arm, “I was worried it was happening again.”
“No, Dean,” Cas sighed sadly, “You are not the one at fault for that.”
He leaned back and Dean found himself missing the warmth of his hand as it slid off.
“The Angels I killed weakened the Host- Heaven…” Cas explained, “I am suffering the consequences of my own actions, not yours…”
“So, do you-?” Sam hesitated, but powered through after a moment of doubt, “Do you two,” he paused again, unsure of how else to ask, “love each other?”
The other two men’s eyes met across the table, equally challenging and questioning.
Unsurprisingly, though, Cas was the first to answer.
“Yes,” he replied simply, holding Dean’s gaze, “I think you know I do.”
The hunter’s eyes broke under the attention, cutting upward toward the ceiling.
“What if it’s a mistake?” Dean avoided answering directly, and Cas’ fondness returned.
“I have made a lot of mistakes,” the Angel nodded, “But loving you was never one of them.”
That statement was apparently the line where Dean met his breaking point, as he went completely silent, just staring at Cas in shock.
Too many years of keeping it in made it near impossible in that moment to make even the smallest semblance of a sound.
“Dean,” Sam finally decided to butt in, “Now would be the time to say something.”
“Yeah,” Dean’s eyes darted between them, “Fuck…”
“Not what I meant,” Sam covered his face, now red with second-hand embarrassment, “I’m going to give you guys the room…”
He clapped Dean on the back as he passed.
“Don’t be dumb,” he added quietly before disappearing through the doorway, leaving the room in yet another thick silence.
“Dean,” Cas took pity and broke it for him, “It’s okay if you don’t feel what they did… I’m very happy with our life as it is.”
“Are you really?” the hunter finally managed, and the exhaustion in his voice was heartbreaking.
Cas took a deep breath, “Dean…”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Cas, I stopped looking for women a long time ago…”
“I had noticed a… dip in your social, um… proclivities, yes,” Cas took the flask and downed a bit too much of it, “Sorry…”
Dean’s eyes lit in amusement, draining some of the discomfort from his posture.
“You never wondered why?” he furthered, catching Cas’ wandering eyes.
“I assumed you were busy and stressed,” the Angel floundered, “Also I know human men can have trouble sexually as they age-”
“Hey, that is not the reason!” he was quick to defend.
“Right, of course,” Cas back-tracked.
“Like, not at all, okay?”
“Absolutely,” a smile began to pull at the Angel’s lips again, “Understood.”
“I… I think I just had everything I needed already…” he glanced down before working his nerve back up again, “You know what i mean?”
Cas opened and closed his mouth a couple of times as uncertainty flooded his features, but Dean could only think how beautiful he looked when he was flustered.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is… yes,” the hunter added to further his point.
“Yes?“ Cas sought clarity.
“Yes, Cas,” he looked pointedly at him, waiting for the Angel to catch up.
“Oh,” his entire face fell flat.
“I’ve tried not to, believe me,” Dean furthered, “For your sake… but I’m just so fucking stubborn, and no matter how hard I tried to want someone else… It was always just you.”
“You think being without you is in my best interest,” Cas gave him a tilted look, reminding him of that first conversation in the barn all those years ago.
The hunter hesitated before chancing a glance, “I mean, it is, isn’t it?”
“That is not my opinion, no,” the Angel shook his head, “Dean, I know you think that loving you is a curse, but I need you to understand that, to me, it has only been a gift.”
Dean’s brows knit as he tried to make sense of how that could ever be possible.
“Whether you return those feelings or not,” Cas placed his hand back atop the other man’s own, “It will always be a gift.”
Dean was silent for a moment, letting the words sink deeper into him, hoping that if he buried them deeply enough, no one could ever take them away.
Not even himself.
Cas allowed him this time, until the hunter stood and approached him, never releasing the hand he had given him.
With a tug, Dean pulled him to his feet and Cas was close enough to count the freckles on his cheeks, see where his eyelashes went from light to dark, and smell the whiskey on his breath.
And his shook on an inhale before Dean’s lips met his own soft but assured.
All the Angel heard was his own gasp before everything else faded away. Only coming to in any real way when Dean’s hand slipped onto the curve of his neck and into his hairline.
A noise escaped him that he had no name for, but Dean seemed more than happy to elicit.
“Dean,” he warned as the light bulb in the fixture above them grew brighter and louder.
He pulled away and it returned to normal as a hand- his own, he noted- reached up to touch his lips.
Dean looked beside himself when the Angel’s focus returned to him, chest heavy with each breath.
“Are you alright?” Cas asked in fear that he had ruined the moment.
“Not even a little,” he answered on a laugh, “The lightbulbs aren’t going to be either.”
He pushed him into the wall behind him and the warmth of his mouth trailed down Cas’ neck before the entire bunker went dark.
“Powers draining, my ass,” Dean chuckled in his ear.
“I didn’t know I could still do that,” he pressed the words into Dean’s lips.
———————
@destiel-wings @destieliscanon5nov
#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#endverse!destiel#castiel x dean#destiel#destiel fanfic#destiel fic#spn#supernatural#dean uses his words#sort of#sam is a third wheel#sam winchester knows#Sam winchester is so done
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i'm thinking john winchester thoughts tonight is it obvious
#ive been thinking john winchester thoughts since i started my s1-3 rewatch if im honest#what a fucking character#it's so interesting to me how#john winchester is one of those characters who is not actually physically present for most of the show#and yet somehow his Presence is so large and all encompassing#he's there. even when he isnt. he is.#of course he is. he's in everything dean does and everything sam refuses to do#he's in every harsh word and every sacrifice done to protect anyone#he's THERE. he's saving people he's hunting things#like he's not there but of course he is. because sam and dean are#and for better and for worse sam and dean are just john winchester put through a flour sifter#alternating whose turn it is to be the john this time#sometimes they're both john. even when they do completely opposite things they're both john#dean wants to use the kid as bait. sam can't fathom risking a kid's life like that. they're both john winchester#I JUST#spn#supernatural#stuff
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Look, no disrespect, but ahh, I'm not exactly a believer.
-1x12
Casey: Do you believe in God, Dean? I'd be surprised if you did.
I don't know. I'd like to.
-3x04
You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us. (...) Chuck, you're not a god!
-4x18
Well, I feel stupid doing this. But… I am fresh out of options. So please. I need some help. I'm praying, okay? Come on. Please.
Prayer is a sign of faith. This is a good thing, Dean.
-4x18
Listen, Chuckles, even if there is a God, he is either dead—and that's the generous theory—
He is out there, Dean.
—or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us.
-5x02
I mean there were times when I was looking for my dad when all logic said that he was dead, but I knew in my heart he was still alive. Who cares what some ninja turtle says, Cas, what do you believe?
I believe he's out there.
Good. Then go find him.
-5x03
And you're just gonna do whatever God says.
Michael: Yes, because I am a good son.
Okay, well, trust me, pal. Take it from someone who knows—that is a dead-end street.
-5x13
Thanks.
Yeah, don't mention it. Yeah, I've been there. I'm a big expert on deadbeat dads. So…Yeah, I get it. I know how you feel.
-5x17
Listen, I need you to pray to your angel buddies and let them know that I'm here.
-5x18
Cas, are you God?
That's a nice compliment. But no.
-5x22
What do you mean you don't know?
Sam: I mean, no idea. I–I'm just back.
Well, was it God, or– or– or Cas? I mean, does Cas know anything about it?
-6x01
Sam: Castiel…This is really important, okay? Um…We really need to talk to you.
Castiel…Come on in.
Cas is busy.
-6x20
I'm not an angel anymore. I'm your new god. You will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord, or I shall destroy you.
Stop.
What's the point if you don't mean it? You fear me. Not love, not respect, just fear.
-7x01
Yeah? What about God part deux?
-7x01
Sam: Dean, all we can do is talk to the guy.
He's not a guy. He's God. And he's pissed. And when God gets righteous, you get the hell out of the way; haven't you read the Bible?
-7x01
Sam: Well, I mean is there some kind of heavenly weapon? Maybe something out of that angel arsenal that Balthazar stole? There has to be something that can hurt him.
He's God, Sam. There's nothing, but there might be someone.
-7x01
Cas, you got your ears on? Listen, you know I am not one for praying, 'cause in my book it's... it's the same as begging. But this is about Sam, so I need you to hear me. We are going into this deal blind... and I don't know what's ahead or what it's gonna bring for Sam. Now, he's covering pretty good, but I know that he is hurting, and this one was supposed to be on me. So, for all that we've been through, I'm asking you– you keep a lookout for my little brother, okay? Where the hell are you, man?
-8x16
Doctor: I'm afraid that's in God's hands now.
You're a doctor. You're a medical professional. You're trying to tell me that my brother's life is in God's hands? What, is that supposed to be a– a comfort?
Doctor: Mr. Dougherty–
No, God has nothing to do with this equation at all.
Doctor: I didn't mean–
That's not good enough.
Cas, are you there? Sammy's hurt. He's hurt, uh– he's hurt pretty bad. And, um... I know you think that I'm pissed at you, okay? But I don't care that the angels fell. So whatever you did or didn't do, it doesn't matter, okay? We'll work it out. Please, man, I need you here.
-9x01
There is a God. *answers the phone* Hello?
I may have a case for you.
-9x06
Metatron is trying to play God.
Sam: Play God? Cas, he erased angel warding. He friggin' blew out Holy Fire. He is God. He's powering up with the angel tablet. How the hell are we supposed to stop this guy?
All right, so what if there is a stairway to heaven? We find it and get a drop on the guy.
-9x18
Tessa: There's no God. There's only Castiel.
-9x22
I believe there is a God. But I'm not sure he still believes in us.
-10x06
Don't count on God. Okay? Count on us.
-11x07
Chuck: Well, I've been mulling it over. And from where I sit, I think it has.
Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us and you're trying to justify it.
Chuck: I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don't confuse me with your dad.
-11x21
Gail: Do you know God, gentlemen?
Oh, yeah. Yeah, we're– we're besties.
-12x04
Okay, Chuck… or god, or whatever. I need your help. See, you– you left us. You left us. You went off. You said… You said the earth would be fine because it had me… and it had Sam, but it’s not, and we’re not.
We've lost everything. And now you're gonna bring him back. Okay?
God's not listening. He doesn't give a damn.
-13x01
Okay, that's it. I'm done, all right? 'Cause he's not God, he's not Cas, he's not Simba. He's the friggin' Devil!
-13x02
Oh, I believe. Hell, I know. God? He doesn't give a damn about you or me or anyone else. So, if you're expecting some sort of a-a miracle to happen, well… good luck.
-13x15
No, we're done talking. 'Cause this– this isn't just a story. It's our lives! So God or no God, you go to hell.
-14x20
Fight God? Without the gun? It's God, Sam. And he's coming for us. How the hell are we supposed to fight God?
-15x05
Listen to yourself. "We're owed." "We deserve." Come on, man. You're not God. Hell, God's not even God.
-15x07
Cas? Cas, I hope you can hear me... that wherever you are, it's not too late. I should've stopped you. You're my best friend, but I just let you go. 'Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong.
I– Ohh. I don't know why I get so angry. I just know– I know that it's– i-it's just always been there. And when things go bad, it just– it comes out. And I can't– I can't stop it. No matter how– how bad I want to, I just can't stop it. And– And I– I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I'm sorry it took me so long– I'm sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I'm– I'm so sorry. Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me. Okay.
Okay, Cas, I need to say something.
You don't have to say it. I heard your prayer.
-15x09
Sam: So… does this mean you're the new… I mean, what do we call you?
Who cares what we call him? Look, all that matters is he got us back online.
-15x19
Do not make any idols in any form, because the Lord your God hates for his people to worship other gods. The Lord your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God. He tolerates no rivals.
[Deuteronomy 4:23-24]
#how god is knocked out of his pedestal to become just someone's dad#and an angel gather all the faith becoming an idol#destiel#dean winchester#prayers#are you god?#castiel#chuck shurley#dean and faith#(i know 12x04 is meant to be irony#but it would be the only occurrence dean use sth synonymous of bf for someone else than cas#even demon!dean corrects crowley saying they aren't friends)#(btw you know how hard it's to choose a version of the bible to quote?#so many wordings#i made a mix#i used all my fav sentences#and i'm not sorry about it)#spn quotes#dean winchester quotes#my post
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i feel so stupid, i've watched s4 so many times and i never noticed the colours change in 'it's a terrible life' when zacharia brings dean out of the little angels made dream life..........
#rewatching this show is always so interesting....#esp rn im watching it with my father who is binging spn for the first time and very much does not have the ~queer goggles on#but we were both raised catholic if only culturally in my case so it leads to interesting theological discussions between us i suppose ....#he's obsessed with the show's dickhead angels stance which is funny because lowkey same#also my dad is a massage therapist and the words 'oh what a nice canvas to work on' has left his mouth re: jensen ackles' back so i guess#the texan man claims another straight dude -.-#spn#dean winchester#4x17: its a terrible life#im loving the thematic link with changing channels with sitcom world being also so brightly coloured and manipulated by an angel#i cant believe i didnt notice before I'm so dumb kxjnvjkfdvs
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The Greatest International Love Story the World Has Ever Seen - MalMuses - Supernatural [Archive of Our Own]
Dean wasn’t the type of person who did this kind of thing. He just wasn’t. GISH?? Ugh. The whole thing was just further proof that Dean would do anything his brother wanted him to do. Why else would he be in a Stormtrooper costume, calling up his ex-girlfriend for a private yoga class? Had he been stuck in a rut that long? Given that he’d been pining for the same freakin’ guy, his professor and coworker no less, for three long years… maybe.
Cas was definitely the type of person who did this kind of thing, not that many people knew that. He was one of the most well-respected professors at KSU. His students and coworkers didn’t need to know that he was captain of a GISH team, or that he knitted kinky accessories and made art with his online friends. His TA certainly didn’t need to know either. Just professionalism, of course. Nothing at all to do with the failed attempt at a relationship, three years of pining, and frequent inappropriate daydreams.
A two-person love triangle with online friendships, costumes, and a lot of glitter.
#fic rec#destiel#miscommunication#two person love triangle#cosplay#professor cas#college au#dean winchester uses his words#eventually
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If there one thing you need to know about me it’s that I will have a full length essay about every part of Dean Winchester’s personality that’s played off as a joke in the show
#the car? got a full one ready to go#his food obsession? on standby#his intelligence? bbg I will use words that make you reach for your thesaurus#his “masculine” persona? I’ve spent may a night laying awake pondering#dean winchester#supernatural#spn
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Ladies With Experience
Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader
Summary: When Dean makes an off-handed comment about "preferring ladies with experience", you try (and fail) to not let it get under your skin. You're a virgin, but you've done just about everything else, and when you talk to Dean about it, he offers to be your first. He's your best friend, and you've been in love with him forever... who are you to deny him?
Tags: smut, first time, virgin!reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom!dean, p in v, oral (female receiving), spanking, fingering, not-so-innocent reader
Word Count: 5k
A/N: As always, thank you to my loves @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean for beta-ing. Would be nowhere without you two 🥰
You can also read me on Ao3!
DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
“Anyways, let’s say you’re right, fine. Who would want virgins?”
You know Sam didn’t mean it like that , and you felt stupid for letting it bother you. For letting this case bother you.
“You got me,” Dean replied with a shrug. “I prefer ladies with experience.”
And there it was, like a punch straight to the gut. You hated that it hurt you as much as it did. So what, you’ve never had sex. But you’ve done almost everything else. You knew what you liked and what you didn't. You’ve been around the block a few times with the various sex toys in your nightstand drawer. It’s not like you weren’t experienced at all . But that didn’t make Dean’s words hurt any less. You swallowed down the burger and fries from lunch that were threatening to come up, before standing up from your seat at the small motel room table.
The brothers looked at you, eyebrows raised.
“I — bathroom,” you managed, before quickly making your way there, slamming the door shut behind you.
Staring at your reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror, you let the tears fall. Silently, you wiped them away as Dean’s words echoed in your head, and you hated that you loved him. Hated that you’d never be ballsy enough to admit it to him, especially now.
Something like five minutes passed and you knew you didn’t have long before one of the boys — likely Sam — would come knocking to check on you. You flushed the unused toilet so they wouldn’t suspect anything and turned on the faucet, splashing your tear-soaked face with cold water before using a hand towel to wipe it dry. When you emerged, the guys were packing up their duffels.
“Did you find them?” you asked, hopeful.
Dean checked his gun, before flipping the safety on and stuffing it in the back waistband of his jeans.
“I sure as hell hope so, ‘cause if I’m about to crawl through the goddamn sewers for nothing —”
“They’re down there, Dean,” Sam replied, giving him a pointed look. He turned his attention to you, and if he had noticed anything off, he hadn’t let his face show it. “You coming?”
You grabbed your gun off the dresser and holstered it in reply.
Six hours later, the three of you were sweaty, panting, and splattered in blood after a close fight with dragons in the sewers. Thankfully, you hadn’t had to wade in any actual sewage. You hadn’t said a word to either brother since you had gone to the bathroom six hours ago, and to keep them from growing suspicious of your sudden silence, you opted to take a nap in the backseat of the Impala on the way back to the motel.
You stirred awake as Dean pulled into the parking lot, barely conscious enough to catch the end of the brothers’ conversation.
“I’ll get her,” Dean said.
Sam nodded and got out of the car, gently closing the passenger side door before heading inside.
You rubbed your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them as Dean’s face came into focus. He was looking at you over his shoulder, one arm resting on the top of the front bench seat.
“Mornin’, sunshine.”
It took a moment for the feeling you had been filled with prior to your nap to come back to you, his words from earlier echoing in your head. I prefer ladies with experience . You shot him a cold glare.
“Alright. What’d I do?” he asked, turning in his seat to better angle himself towards you.
The question caught you off guard.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You haven’t said a word since we left for that hunt, Y/N.”
“How do you know Sam didn’t do something?”
He replied with a knowing look.
You stared at your hands, clasped together in your lap, and muttered, “It’s nothing. Stupid.”
“C’mon, talk to me,” he urged.
You hated this. How easy he was to talk to. How you had always been able to tell him what was on your mind.
But not this . You couldn’t tell him this.
You shook your head.
“Hey,” he said softly, shifting in his seat. He was fully turned around now, reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at those green eyes. “Talk to me,” he repeated, no room for argument in his words.
“I can’t,” you whispered. You wanted to throw up. He was your best friend, and you were utterly, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with him. He preferred girls with experience, and you had none. Not in the way that it mattered. And he had known that, thanks to a late-night stake-out game of Never Have I Ever .
His jaw clenched. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”
You briefly met his gaze. You couldn’t hold it for long.
“Was it something I said?” he prodded.
You stared at the buttons of his open flannel, your eyes quickly darting up to meet his in silent confirmation.
He sighed, pulling his hand away from your face and folding his arms on top of the backseat, resting his chin on his forearm.
“Do I at least get a hint?”
“Dean, I —”
“C’mon, Y/N. You’ve never not told me anything.”
“Why are you pushing this?”
“Because I can’t stand not talking to you.”
Your heart leaped at that confession, however innocent it might have been.
“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”
“Because I’m making you. You would have silent treatmented me into next week.”
You didn’t respond.
He sighed again, defeated. “Y/N, c’mon. Please? Whatever I said, I’m sorry. I’m sure I didn’t mean it.”
“You didn’t mean that you ‘prefer girls with experience’?” you retorted quite sassily. The question tumbled out before you even had time to think of the implication that came with asking it.
Dean opened and closed his mouth like a damn fish.
“Thought so.” You began to move to make your way out of the car, when Dean reached out and grabbed your wrist.
“No,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s okay if you do. I told you, it was a dumb thing to be upset about.”
“No, it’s not. I didn’t stop to think about how this case might have been affecting you. You know I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you, right?”
You swallowed, nodded. His hand felt like fire around your wrist.
“But for what it’s worth, I wasn’t serious. I don’t prefer anyone one way or the other. Sex is sex. If anyone’s willing to have it with me, I consider myself lucky.”
“Romantic,” you quipped.
A smile tugged at his lips. “I could show you, y’know.”
You almost threw up right there in the backseat. Your eyes grew wide.
“What?” you croaked.
“Well, if you’re worried about not having any experience… I just mean I’d be happy to, y’know. Show you the ropes.”
“… Of sex?” Really, you thought it was cute that he had this misconception of you. You knew about the ropes. You’d just never been tied up with them.
“Of whatever you want.”
“You think I want to have sex with you?” It came out harsher than you meant it to, like part of you still thought you could hide the fact that you were in love with him. Like if you just joked it off it would go away, and you wouldn’t have to cross this line with him, even though you so badly wanted to. But you had to protect yourself, your heart.
You didn’t miss the flash of hurt in his eyes.
“No, that’s not what I —”
You suddenly felt the need to clarify your question.
“No, I — I didn’t mean it like that either.”
Dean’s face morphed into one of confusion. “…So you do want to have sex with me?”
Your cheeks flushed red, and your throat bobbed. “Uh…”
“Forget it, stupid question, you don’t have to an—”
“Yeah,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper. Fuck it. Who were you to hold yourself back from the one thing you’ve been wanting for years? You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I really, really do.”
Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Seriously?”
“Oh, cut the shit, Dean. Like you’re surprised. Everyone wants to have sex with you.”
He scoffed. “ Everyone , Y/N, really?”
“There are literally smutty fanfictions written about you,” you replied, reaching into your back pocket for your phone, dead set on proving your point.
“Gross. And Becky doesn’t count as everyone.”
“Actually, Becky only writes for Sam.”
You realized what you said at the same time he did, and he eyed you suspiciously.
“Why do you know that?”
God dammit. “I don’t. I mean — I — like, she obviously loves Sam. So, like, she wouldn’t write porn about you. Obviously.”
“Uh huh…” There was an uncomfortable silence for a beat or three. And then, “How much smut have you read about me?”
Your face felt like it had just been rinsed with fucking lava, and you knew it probably looked as red as it, too.
“None!” you exclaimed, way too quickly.
Dean smirked. “You do really wanna have sex with me,” he remarked, like he couldn’t believe it.
“Trust me, the urge is fading by the second.”
His grin disappeared almost instantly. “Would it help if I told you that I think about fucking you all the time, too?”
“Well, I don’t think about it all the —”
“Y/N.” He said your name like a warning, and the tone of his voice settled right in your core.
“Yeah,” you squeaked. “Yeah, that helps.”
“Good,” he smirked, before grabbing his phone from beside him.
“Uh… What are you doing?” You watched as he scrolled for a second, pressing a button before putting the phone to his ear.
“Telling Sammy to beat it.”
Your eyes grew wide. “What!?” you whisper-yelled. “No! Just — we can just do it back here!”
He gave you a pointed look. “I’m not taking your virginity in the backseat of my car, Y/N.”
“Why not!?”
“Because we’re not sixteen, for one. And for two… I wanna make it special.” He rushed the last bit out, like he was embarrassed to say it. And he should be. You cringed as you heard it.
“Oh my God,” you began.
“Shut up.”
“You did not just say that.”
“Shut up. Sam, answer your phone, God dammit!”
“I have done, like, almost everything else, you know. In the backseats of many, many cars. You don’t need to make it special for me, Deano,” you teased.
“For the last time, shut your mouth, or I’m gonna shut it for you,” he said, the look he gave letting you know he wasn’t in the mood to play. No, he wanted to fuck you. Beyond that, he wanted to dominate you. And you were more than happy to submit.
You might have been a virgin physically, but mentally? Mentally, you’d probably give Dean a run for his money.
Sam didn’t answer. Naturally. He was probably in the shower, but you were kind of grateful because as much as you wanted Dean, you didn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable. Or worse, give him any reason to give you the talk . Because he totally would. After trying his brother two more times, Dean decided it would be better to just get a room of your own, and you were much happier with that decision.
You watched as he unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping aside, gesturing for you to go ahead.
“Ladies first.”
“You mean you’re not gonna carry me over the threshold?” you joked. “Thought you wanted to make this special .”
He gave you an unamused look, and you shot back a sarcastic closed-mouth smile before you were being swept off of your feet and over his shoulder faster than you could process.
“Dean!” you squealed, as he carried you through the doorway, kicking the door shut behind him before practically throwing you onto the bed.
He was hovering over you seconds later, his face a few inches from yours, and the mood shifted from playful to serious.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
You nodded, your fingers coming up to play with the collar of his flannel.
“If I tell you something, you promise you won’t make fun of me?” you questioned, your eyes glued to the plaid pattern on his shirt.
“Promise.”
“I was kinda… holding out for you.” You drew your eyes up to meet his.
“Seriously?” he asked, half laughing. You could tell it wasn’t because he thought it was funny. It was because he couldn’t believe it.
You swallowed nervously, nodding again as you stared into those green eyes, and you hoped that this meant as much to him as it did to you. Something told you it did.
“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he said.
You tilted your head in question.
“About making it special for you. I know it’s like, the grossest thing I could have possibly said but, you deserve so much better than me, and so if —”
“There’s no one better for me, you idiot.” And you almost told him everything. That you’ve been in love with him ever since you met one summer at Bobby’s, back when you were just kids. That everything felt like it led up to this moment. That you wanted him to fuck you and make love to you all at once. That you didn’t want this to be the only time he did. But instead, you grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him towards you, your lips meeting in a kiss that felt like it could have powered an entire country’s electric grid.
He deepened it, and the two of you were nothing but tongues and teeth and lips — it wasn’t sexy. It was hungry. Starved, more like. Like he had been thinking about kissing you just as long as you had been thinking about him.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his hips down towards your denim-covered core, down until you felt the hardness underneath his jeans pressed up against the spot where you needed him most, down until you couldn’t help but grind against it. He moaned as he kissed you, so you did it again. And again. And again. And —
“You need to stop that.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command. You noticed that your arms were above your head, his hands pinning your wrists against the mattress. You don’t know when that happened, but you weren’t complaining. In fact, it spurred you on.
You smiled mischievously and rutted against him once more.
“What’re you gonna do about it, Winchester?”
He dropped his forehead to yours, steadying his breaths.
“I can fuck you like it’s your first time, or I can fuck you how I actually want to.”
“And how’s that?”
He took a shaky breath, like he was actually having a hard time controlling himself. You felt a sense of pride shoot through you at that.
“Like the fucking brat you are.”
You almost came from that alone.
Wanna know some common misconceptions about virgins? That they don’t have kinks. That they don’t watch porn. That they don’t have a plethora of sex toys in their nightstand. That they sit and crochet in their convent dorm room all day. Sure, you were years past the age when girls typically lose their virginity, but you were no saint. In fact, you enjoyed being quite the opposite. And you enjoyed being put in your place.
“Do your worst.”
It was like something in him snapped. His eyes were lust-blown and hungry and you didn’t miss the way his jaw ticked, and then he was undressing you so fast that you could’ve been part of a quick change act. He muttered something about a light system as he took off your clothes, and you nodded in a way that let him know that you already knew how all of that worked.
When you were down to just a black lace bra and panties, he paused as his fingers hooked under your waistband. He stared at you, his expression serious, and you knew that he was going to give you one more warning. One more opportunity to say, “Actually, I’d like to have a totally normal, non-kinky, first time experience, please.” But that wasn’t what you wanted.
“You sure you know what you’re asking for?”
You rolled your eyes. “I trust you. Put me in my goddamn place, Winchester. You’ve only been wanting to do it for the past two hours.”
“Oh, I’ve been waiting to do it for a lot longer than that, sweetheart.”
“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, yeah,” he replied, huffing a small laugh before pulling off your panties in one swift motion. His hands came to rest on your bare thighs as he locked his eyes with yours. “Any hard limits?”
You shook your head. “I trust you. I mean, like, don’t pee on me or —”
“Not gonna happen. But… most everything else?”
“Dean,” you began, looking at him pointedly, “I trust you. If it helps, I’ve used like, toys on myself before. And I don’t mean just a vibrator, I mean like… well, you get the gist.”
“So I don’t have to go easy on you, is what you’re saying?”
“Put me in my place,” you repeated.
“Alright,” he replied, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs as he roughly pushed them apart, “but just so we’re clear, that’s the last order you’ll be giving tonight.”
Your throat bobbed and you nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
You meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way. No, the title came out in a way that made his jaw clench and his eyes darken and it stoked the fire raging in your core.
Dean didn’t waste any more time talking after that, his tongue moving through your folds seconds later, drawing gasps and soft moans from your lips. You arched into him, your hands in his hair, silently begging for more. It wasn’t the first time a man had gone down on you, but it was the first time it felt like this .
He pinned your hips down to the bed with one hand splayed over your abdomen and then his tongue was inside you and “eating you out” didn’t come close to describing his ministrations. He was devouring you like his life depended on it, like the sounds you were making were a goddamn Zeppelin song that he wasn’t anywhere near done listening to. And then he added a finger, and then another, and it didn’t matter how many times you had imagined him doing this while you had your own fingers inside you — nothing would have prepared you for how good the real thing felt.
“Oh — fuck,” you gasped, and he chuckled into your sex and you had to actively think about not coming on his face and ending this whole experience early.
“You’re close,” he observed, flicking his tongue over your clit as he continued to pump his fingers in and out, and it was so fucking hot how he just knew that. It was like he had been fucking you for years, the way he knew your body, your tells.
You nodded. “Mmhm,” you confirmed, unable to form words with the way the coil in your abdomen was tightening.
“Hold it,” he ordered.
Your eyes shot open, because it wasn’t the command you were expecting, and you tried to lift your head to shoot him a cold glare but you couldn’t. And he just kept pumping, flicking, licking, chuckling — fucking asshole.
“Mm — fuck — please!” you cried out.
“When you come tonight, it’s gonna be on my cock. So hold it.”
You didn’t think you could. You had played this game with yourself and your vibrator and your self-control was majorly lacking and God his mouth and fingers felt so fucking good and you were there, the coil wound so goddamn tight, it would take nothing for you to let it snap, and then —
He stopped.
He pulled his mouth away from your core, his fingers out of your pussy, and you were writhing underneath him, because you had been right there and you needed him to be touching you again right the fuck now.
You whined.
He spanked your pussy. Not hard or anything, just enough to see if it was okay with you, and fuck, was it.
“Stop whining,” he demanded. He positioned himself so he was hovering over you again, his face inches away from yours as he stared into your eyes. “Or I’ll give you something to whine about.”
You were curious as to what that something would be, but sensed that right now wouldn’t be the best time for that question. You nodded instead.
“Good girl.” He smiled when he said it, like he knew exactly what those two words would do to you.
You squirmed underneath him, it had been too long since he’d last touched you. Too long being thirty seconds at most, but still. It had felt like hours.
“Has anyone ever told you,” he began, dipping his head to place a soft kiss on your collarbone, “that you are very,” another kiss to the other side, “very,” one more to the middle of your chest, “impatient?” He slowly pulled down the left cup of your bra, your breast spilling out of it. “Makes me wanna take my time.”
His eyes stayed glued to yours as his head moved down to your hardened nipple, taking it into his mouth at a goddamn snail’s pace. You arched your back, and he let you this time, chuckling at how easy it was to make your body react. His other hand slipped underneath you, unclasping your bra in a way that reminded you that he had a lot of experience doing so, and you refused to water the seed of jealousy that had sprouted from the thought. It didn’t matter that he had done this a million times. All that mattered was that he was doing it now, with you.
He pulled your bra off and threw it haphazardly over his shoulder, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were completely naked, and he still had 87 fucking layers on, the outermost of which was still speckled with dragon blood, and it’s not that you were anywhere near clean, but you certainly didn’t want those clothes touching your bare skin.
“Dean?” you rasped, and he pulled away from your nipple to give you his full attention.
“You okay, sweetheart? Do you want to st—”
“No! God, no. It’s just —” you sighed, exasperated. This was dumb. You were going to stop him for this? Your eyes landed on a spot of blood on the shoulder of his flannel. Yes, yes you were, because that’s gross. “It’s just that your clothes are covered in monster blood and I’m like, totally naked, and I don’t want —”
He chuckled like you were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “I gotchya, baby.”
Baby. Baby ? You tried not to overthink the pet name as he climbed off the bed to take his clothes off, watching you the entire time. Sweetheart, you’d been called a million times. He called everyone sweetheart. But baby? Baby was his car, and no one else. Unless, that’s what you were to him now. His, and no one else’s. You filed the thought away under “Things to Think About After You Lost Your Virginity to Dean Winchester”.
He was in nothing but his boxers now, his cock already hard underneath them, and you bit your lip as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and slid them off. And then, there he was, exactly like you’d imagined him but also better, because this was real and happening. You gaped at him, at his size. He wasn’t any bigger than the fake one you had in your nightstand, but that one was nine inches and you could never fit it all the way in. He was perfect. All of him.
“You okay?” he asked again, crawling back onto the bed.
“Mhm,” you managed, gulping.
He was on top of you again, his forearm holding up his weight as his free hand came to grab your thigh, hooking it over his hip and leaning down to kiss you. You could feel him against your core, his cock moving between your folds as he moved his hips, teasing you with it.
“Dean,” you breathed.
“Hm?”
“I want…” you couldn’t find it in yourself to finish your request.
“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered.
You decided you liked “baby” better.
“Please.”
“I thought you wanted me to put you in your place?”
You shook your head. “N-next time. Just, please .”
His eyebrows shot up, and you realized what you had said.
“Next time, huh?” he asked, with that shit-eating grin of his.
You rolled your eyes. He stopped moving, the smile wiped off his lips as he gripped you underneath your chin, somewhere between rough and gentle, the look on his face telling you he wasn’t messing around.
“Roll your eyes at me again, and next time I’ll really do my worst.”
You bit back a smile, and you just knew he was thinking, Brat. But you asked your question anyway.
“But not this time?” There was a devilish gleam in your eyes. You were tempting him, and he knew it.
“Do you ever get tired of being such a brat?”
“Dunno,” you shrugged. “Do you ever get tired of it?”
His jaw tensed, and he forced a sardonic, closed-lip smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Hm. But not this time, right?”
“Y/N —” he warned.
“Afraid you’re gonna hurt me? Scare me? What’s really keeping you from putting me in my place… Sir?”
For the second time that night, something in him snapped. You yelped as he flipped you over and grabbed your hips, dragging them upwards so your ass was in the air and your chest was on the mattress. Four hits to your cheeks came down in quick succession, and when you reached your hand behind you to block them, it was quickly pinned to the small of your back. Three more hits followed, accompanied by a pathetic, “Ow!” from your lips.
“Color?” he questioned roughly.
“So fucking green,” you replied, dazed.
Seven more hits followed, each one harder than the last, and you didn’t think there was anything better than the sting you were feeling right now. There was nothing more you wanted than for him to mark you up like this.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he commented. Five more hits.
“Oh, fuck!” you cried out at the last hit, one that felt like it reverberated through your entire body. One that definitely left a handprint behind.
“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question. He spanked you four more times. “You just wanted me to mark you up, is that it? Think of me every time you sit down for the next few days, hm?” Three more.
“Mmph!” Your cries were muffled by the comforter.
“Yeah, I can tell. Look at this fucking mess.” He dragged his fingers through your soaked folds. “Jesus Christ,” he said under his breath, and then he was flipping you back over. He nestled himself between your legs, his tip teasing your entrance. His expression softened as he stared into your eyes. “Are you sure?”
You nodded. “Yeah,” you replied breathily.
He slid into you slow and easy, your mouth open in a silent moan as he bottomed out.
“Good?” he asked.
“So fucking good.”
When he started to move, you thought you were going to die. In a good way. In a way that made you decide right there and then that when the time did come, this was how you wanted to go out.
“Harder,” you encouraged, and he obliged. “Faster.”
He was properly fucking you now. Hard and fast and dirty. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass, forcing him to go deeper. His head was buried in your neck, your nails were clawing up his back, and the room was filled with moans and pants and expletives that put a sailor’s mouth to shame.
“Shit, baby,” he panted into your neck. “God damn, you feel good. So fucking tight.” He sped up his thrusts, and the bed was squeaking so much that you thought it was going to fall apart underneath you, but you were too far gone to care. He reached a hand down in between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, circling it expertly. You were on the precipice of your release in seconds. And then —
“Come. Soak that fucking cock, baby. Come for me.”
And you screamed loud enough to get both you and him kicked out of the motel if they cared enough as your orgasm ripped through you. He fucked you through it, his pace only faltering moments later, right before he pulled out and painted your stomach white. It looked like a Jackson Pollock on your abdomen. Kinda hot, actually.
“You okay?” Dean asked, looking down at you as he finally caught his breath.
“More than,” you smiled.
He mirrored the look on your face before crawling off the bed and heading to the bathroom. He came back moments later with a damp washcloth, gently cleaning his masterpiece off of your skin. When he was done, he threw it across the room, aiming for the bathroom, and it landed on the tile in front of the toilet. He laid down next to you, pulling you into his chest as he pressed a soft kiss into your hair, and you wanted to ask so many questions, all at once. What were you two now? How long had he been wanting this? Would there be a next time? Instead, you opted for —
“You know in fanfictions, they write you as a submissive most of the time.”
He snorted. “They’re half right.”
“A switch?” you asked, surprised. “Lucky me.”
He chuckled softly. “Sorry about your ass.”
You shrugged. “I was asking for it.”
“Oh, you were definitely asking for it. Still, I… I dunno. It was your first time, I didn’t want to get too —”
“It was perfect, Dean.”
“Yeah?”
You nodded, smiling, dozing off already. “Yeah.”
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Too Many Beds
main masterlist | supernatural masterlist
summary: you want nothing more than an excuse to sleep next to dean again
pairing: (pre-s1/s1) dean winchester x female reader
rating: R for language
word count: 2.1k
warnings: none really, language, bed sharing, kissing, mutual pining, idiots in love, brief mention of the death of reader’s dad
timeline: starts slightly before season one, ends near the beginning of season one
author’s note: a spin on the classic 'just one bed, what ever shall we do?' trope lol
You’d known Dean all your life, practically. You met him when you were six and he was eight; two lonely little kids stuck with absent (job-driven) fathers and baby brothers you felt responsible for. Over the course of the last eighteen-or-so years you ran into the Winchesters during hunts enough that you considered them family.
When Sam left for college you were there for Dean and when you lost your dad in a hunting accident Dean was there for you. He actually stayed with you, not wanting you to hunt alone since your brother was off at college too.
So, for the last six months you’d been hunting with Dean (who hadn’t spoken to Sam for over a year).
“One room, two queens,” Dean said to the woman behind the counter, placing “his” credit card on the space between them before sliding it toward her.
“We’re all booked up I’m afraid,” she said.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I was actually about to turn on the no vacancy sign.”
“This is the third motel we’ve been to,” you said, “every one of them has been full—you’ve gotta have something!”
“I mean, there’s technically one room left but the heater’s out and my boss said not to let anyone sleep there because of that.”
There was a silent pause; you and Dean shared a knowing look.
“We’ll pay in cash, your boss ‘ll never know,” you told the woman. She smiled and nodded as you paid her with cash.
“Room 209, my boss gets here at ten tomorrow morning so please leave before then.” She handed you the key and you nodded in thanks.
You had underestimated just how cold the room could be, but when you unlocked and opened the door you understood why the owner didn’t want anyone staying here.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled, following you into the room and feeling the cold air. “We’re gonna freeze our asses off in here!” he quickly closed the door behind him, hoping the icy air hadn’t swept any snow into the room.
“It’s either this or we sleep in the Impala,” you shrugged, “and, no offense to your car, but it’s fuckin’ uncomfortable to sleep in.”
“And there’s only one bed,” Dean sighed.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you told him, ignoring his complaints.
**
“Are you shivering or crying?” Dean asked.
You rolled over so you could meet his stare; “Shivering! It’s fuckin’ cold in here!”
“You wanna…cuddle up, maybe?” he asked hesitantly.
“Excuse me?” you laughed a little.
“Look, I’m not thrilled about it either, but it’s cold in here and unless we both wanna catch fucking pneumonia we better be smart and share body heat.”
You sighed, weighing your options; “Fine. But we never, and I mean never speak of this again, you hear me?”
“Understood.” He nodded.
You rolled back over as he scooted closer to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.
“This okay?” he asked quietly, his lips ghosting the back of your head.
“Yeah,” you mumbled back. “Thank you, Dean.”
**
You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring loudly. You were used to his snores, sure, but he’d never been this close. He was laying on his stomach and resting on your chest; his mouth open and his hair tickling your neck. Your first reaction was annoyance but then it quickly washed away as you realized you didn’t want to move a muscle, so Dean could continue sleeping.
And the more you laid there, listening to his snores, the more you realized how comfortable you were…even in such a physically uncomfortable situation.
As the time passed and the sun began to rise, you cursed the light that was slowly but surely peeking through the curtain and onto Dean’s face.
“Morning,” he mumbled to you as he lifted his head up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand before wiping his mouth. “Sorry,” he chuckled, noticing the small spot on your gray sweater dampened with his drool.
“It’s okay,” you mumbled back. “I think it’s your sweater anyway.”
“I thought it looked familiar.”
He rolled off of you and out of bed.
You watched as he padded across the dirty carpet and over to the small kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and the loud, off putting grinding noise made his face scrunch before he quickly shut off the (definitely broken) machine.
“So much for coffee,” he grumbled. “You gonna sit there all morning or you wanna get outta here? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
“I’m getting up,” you replied. You would usually be annoyed at him for rushing you to wake up, but this time the annoyance was…different. Something about his bedhead, the way his lips were pouting over the lack of caffeine, and how he looked in his brown Henley and baggy sweats just made you wanna hold him again. All you wanted was to pull him back into bed with you and hold him in your arms forever.
**
You were beyond frustrated at this point. How many stupid fucking hotels had to have vacant rooms with two beds and a functional heating system!?
It had been nearly six months since you and Dean shared a bed and you had been looking for an excuse to sleep next to him ever since.
But the last couple weeks had been different—Sammy was back. Yes, you loved Sam like a brother, but you missed getting to be alone with Dean. You missed sitting shotgun in the Impala and watching him drive.
Sam definitely noticed the way you looked at Dean, but the younger Winchester didn’t say a word. Without being too obvious about it, he tried to do little things that would let you be close to his brother. He’d sit in a certain chair or part of the couch so that you and Dean had no choice but to sit together. Or he’d make some lame excuse so that he got his own room while you and Dean had to share. “I need to do some more research and I need the light, why don’t you two just sleep in the other room?” for example.
**
“Two rooms, please,” Dean said, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet.
“Unfortunately we’ve only got one room left,” the cashier replied.
You almost couldn’t believe your ears, fucking finally!
“Oh, that’s too bad,” you faked your best frustrated look, of course Sam saw right through that.
“Well, I am not sharing with either or you,” he said with a teasing smile.
“There’s actually a pullout couch in that room, as luck would have it,” the cashier informed the three of you.
God fucking damn it, you thought to yourself.
**
It was barely after two when you felt the bed behind you dip, and you shook yourself awake.
“The hell?” you asked, still half asleep.
“The pullout couch isn’t working,” Dean mumbled quietly. “You mind sharing with me?”
You smiled a little and scooted closer into his arms, indicating you were okay with him sleeping next to you.
“Of course I don’t mind sharing with you,” you whispered and his grip tightened.
**
“I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Sam announced. “I’m assuming you want your usual?”
Dean put his right pointer finger to his lips and furrowed his brows angrily. He gestured to you as you slept and Sam got the message.
“Usual is good,” Dean whispered before Sam left.
Dean stayed laying perfectly still as you slept on his chest, soft snores escaping your lips and to Dean they were the sweetest sound.
As you stirred awake slowly, he rubbed your back a little.
“Morning,” you mumbled, a small smile on your lips. “Where’s Sam?”
“He went to grab breakfast,” Dean told you.
You furrowed your brows as you sat up, looked across the room, and realized something; “The pullout bed looks fine? I thought you said it wasn’t working?” You turned back to Dean, who had a sheepish grin growing on his lips.
“So…maybe I’ve just been looking for an excuse to sleep next to you again. Like we did back in that motel when the heat was out.”
“Really?” You attempted to hide the smile trying to find its way onto your face.
“When we were checking in last night I noticed how your face lit up when they said there was only one room left,” Dean admitted. “And I saw that disappointed look you made when they said there was a pullout couch. So, am I wrong, or have you been wanting an excuse too?”
“I really liked sleeping next to you that night,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “And you’re right, I have been hoping for another ‘oh no just one bed, guess we’ll have to share’ situation but…”
“But what?” Dean asked when you trailed off. You looked down at him.
“Dean, you and Sam have been like my brothers for as long as I can remember. I mean, Bobby practically raised all three of us and my actual brother as siblings! Your dad and my dad knew each other basically forever and I guess…I guess I figured our lives are too entangled for anything to ever actually happen between us. We’re family.”
“Chosen family, Y/n.” Dean smiled softly. “Doesn’t mean you have to be my chosen sister, you could be my chosen…you know…”
You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his full lips.
“That,” Dean finished his previous statement.
“Let’s just keep this between us for now, okay?” you suggested. “If Sam finds out, then your dad will find out, and he’ll immediately tell my brother, then before we know it Bobby—”
“I get the picture, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled before kissing you again. He put his hands on your cheeks as he sat up. He pulled you onto his lap, your legs now straddling his hips. His hands moved to your shoulders then trailed down to your lower back as yours went into his hair. You pulled away from him after a moment, huge smiles on both your faces.
You looked into his eyes, his truly beautiful eyes, and you bit your bottom lip ever so slightly. Your right hand rested on his left cheek, your thumb stroking his skin lovingly.
“You’re awesome, Dean Winchester,” you whispered.
“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he replied before he kissed you again. “And gorgeous, too,” he added. “You know how fuckin’ annoying it’s been, sleeping without you every night since that one time?”
“I do know, Dean, I’ve been just as annoyed about it.”
Dean kissed you one more time before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, tucking his head into your neck. You wrapped your arms around him too, pressing your lips to his temple.
You pulled out of the hug so you could once again look at his face. Resting your forehead on his, you smiled before you kissed him again.
“Breakfast,” Sam called out as he opened the door, “is served!”
You and Dean froze for a split second before you hurried off of him.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, “did I interrupt you two?”
“What?” you scoffed. “Of course not!”
“Interrupt? There’s nothing to interrupt?” Dean added.
“Oh…wow you two are fast,” Sam mumbled, shaking his head as he made his way to the kitchen before putting the food down. “Well, pancakes, eggs, and bacon from the continental breakfast.” He gestured to the food now on the table. “Hope you’re hungry.”
As Sam sat down to eat, you looked at Dean anxiously. Say something you begged him with your eyes.
“Sammy,” Dean started as he got out of bed, “would you mind uh…not telling dad? About me and Y/n…kissing just now? When we find him, I mean.”
“Dad’s never really been invested in your love life, but he’s not an idiot,” Sam laughed.
“So…you are gonna tell him?” Dean furrowed his brows in frustration.
“Dean, he knows you two are together, it’s not some big secret?” Sam replied, shoveling more food into his mouth. “Damn that’s good.”
“Okay, just hold on—what?” Dean asked. “What do you mean dad knows? There’s been nothing to know since like four minutes ago?”
“Wait,” Sam stopped eating and fully turned to face you and his brother, “are you trying to tell me this is the first time you two have kissed?” Sam furrowed his brows deeply as you and Dean both nodded. “So…never in high school?” You shook your heads again. “That prom we crashed?”
“Sam you were there the whole time? When would we have kissed?” you asked.
“Huh,” Sam let out a laugh. “I genuinely thought you two had been a thing since like… ‘98.”
“What!?” you and Dean exclaimed in unison.
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester comfort#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester#sam winchester#supernatural#spn#supernatural fic#supernatural fluff#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fanfic#dean x reader#by mind empty just fictional people#by jean
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Not a Ghost - Dean Winchester (smut)
I feel like my Dean fics are always just pwp, but I always try to weave in some plot points, promise. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: For the past ten years, Dean had been forced to accept that she was dead – dead because John hadn't been able to rescue her in time. But what happens when he stumbles upon her in a bar? Not a ghost, but alive and breathing.
Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, reunion, John is a dick as always
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.3k words)
“You’re staring, it’s getting creepy man,” Sam murmured his words as he gulped down another sip of his beer, eyes following his brother’s line of sight. Dean didn’t reply, eyes fixated on a woman standing a few feet away. The bar was crowded, packed with people neither Sam nor Dean wanted to interact with, and yet Dean’s eyes had been following her around ever since they had stepped into the bar almost an hour ago. “Dean, c’mon man.”
Sam’s hand met his brother’s arm, hoping to finally gain his attention, but Dean barely reacted. The older Winchester brother had his eyebrows furrowed, hand wrapped around the beer bottle he had barely drank from. It wasn’t the first time Sam had caught his brother admiring a woman, god, Dean was famous for loving “frisky women” after all, and yet this was something new, something Sam couldn’t understand.
“Excuse me.” Dean rose to his feet, leaving his confused brother behind without explaining a thing to him. Sam could only watch Dean move through the crowd, coming to a halt in front of the woman whose face Sam hadn’t seen just yet. It was too loud for Sam to pick up on the words Dean spoke, words that forced the woman to slowly turn towards him.
“What the fuck?” With the words rolling off Sam’s tongue, he jumped to his feet, full of confusion, not understanding what was going on. But before Sam could reach the two, she had tugged on Dean’s hand, pulling the man out into the cold.
“How is this possible?” Dean’s words dripped with confusion, arms crossed in front of his chest as if he was trying to protect himself from her. It was too dark for (y/n) to pick up on the tears welling up in his piercingly green eyes, overwhelmed by the sadness washing through him, the sadness he had tried to swallow for the past decade.
She wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to be breathing, wasn’t supposed to be alive.
“How is what possible? You have the fucking nerve to speak to me again after ten fucking years of silence? You packed up and left, Dean!” Her angry words left Dean choking, taking a step back as if she had pushed him. For a second neither of them spoke, engulfed in silence and the sound of Sam slowly stepping closer. The taller brother kept his distance, yet he found himself just as overwhelmed by his emotions, unsure how to react.
“What are you talking about? You are supposed to be dead, I mourned you for ten years, and now I find you here, alive.” Dean’s words dripped with anger, but Sam could clearly pick up on the sadness that thumped through his brother’s veins. This was fucked up, another level of fucked up.
“Dead? Dean, why should I be dead?” No longer was (y/n) close to screaming, she took a step closer to Dean who struggled to keep standing still, body begging him to move away from her. If Sam hadn’t been with him, he would have been sure that this was just his mind fucking with him, hallucinating the woman he had once been engaged to, the woman he had mourned for a decade. But as much as Dean wanted to speak up, to explain what was going on, he couldn’t, too choked up.
(Y/n)’s now glassy eyes flickered to Sam’s, desperate for an explanation as she watched the taller brother take another step closer to interfere. He kept his voice calm as he spoke up, eyes flickering between Dean, who kept staring at her, and (y/n), “It was a Tuesday evening, dad came home after his hunt with you and told us that you died that day, that he had burned your body because there wasn’t any time to lose. He explained every detail, how you had been torn to shreds, how he had tried to save you, but was too hurt himself to react quick enough. I stitched him up that evening, he looked horrible, littered with scars, so there was no doubt, he must have told the truth.”
The gasp that left (y/n) was almost louder than the sob that tried to leave Dean, reminded of the day that haunted him every single night. Tears dripped down both their cheeks, eyes now unable to break contact.
“He, uhm,” she had to clear her throat, trying to wipe away her tears with her sleeves. “That day he told me that you no longer wanted the engagement, but didn’t know how to tell me and that you left that night with Sam. I was so angry, so I also packed up and left, I couldn’t stay. John was with me for a few weeks.” Both brothers could still remember how they had packed their things, how Dean had been driven on by the need to disappear from the house that reminded him of (y/n), and how Sam knew that he couldn’t stay away from Dean, not knowing if he’d try to hurt himself. They hadn’t tried to get in touch with John for a while, guided by the anger of him not being able to save (y/n).
“I will kill him.” Goosebumps rose on Sam’s skin at the tone of Dean’s voice, an unfamiliar tone, full of hatred. But Sam couldn’t blame Dean for his anger, he had been right there, watching his brother suffer for years on end, trying to drown his hurt in alcohol and one-night stands, addicted to hunts and the distraction they offered. Before Sam could even try to speak up, (y/n) had slung her arms around Dean’s waist, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck.
……
“It’s alright, Dean, I won’t let you leave. I promise.” Her voice echoed through the apartment, eyes set on Dean’s face. Sam had made his way back to the motel he and Dean were staying in, while Dean had driven (y/n) and himself back to her place. Neither of them could stop touching one another, still not believing that they were reunited after all these years.
“I don’t know what to believe if I’m being honest, sweetheart. Deep down I always knew he was fucked up, but this? All for what?” Only now did Dean pick up on the hesitation tugging on her features. He rose to his feet with a huff, hand combing through his hair as he growled a raspy “Unbelievable”.
“In those few weeks, he stayed with me, he tried to convince me that he was the better choice, that you had nothing on him. Of course, I didn’t give in, I guess that’s why he eventually left. And I haven’t heard from him since.” She didn’t dare meet his angry gaze, fumbling with her shaking fingers. (Y/n) tried to stop herself from crying once again, knowing that as much as she had struggled the past years, Dean has had it much worse, mourning the person he had wanted to marry.
“I should have known, he was always fascinated by you, some weird obsession I should have paid more attention to. I am sorry, sweetheart, so sorry.” Dean’s hand found her chin, forcing her to lift her gaze. She didn’t get a chance to reply, words stuck in her throat as Dean kissed her breathlessly. The moan clawing through her urged Dean on, pressing her against the kitchen island.
(Y/n)’s fingers found their way to his hair, tugging on his roots with as much strength that forced a growl out of Dean. They couldn’t part, didn’t want to break the kiss, it had been too long since they had gotten the chance to communicate their emotions in a raw way like this. But as much as they wanted to keep on kissing one another, they were also desperate for more, for Dean to bury himself deep inside of her.
“How do you want me?” (Y/n)’s hazy eyes found his piercing green ones, tongue running along her lower lip. She pondered over his words, not once in the past ten years had she believed that she’d get another chance to be loved by Dean Winchester, and now she didn’t know what she wanted. Too many things she needed, too many choices he offered her. His fingers worked on her shirt, tugging it over her head, groaning as his eyes found her chest. Within seconds he had ripped her bra from her frame, lips finding her hardening nipples.
“Fast, rough, fuck, I don’t care. I just need you inside of me.” She had ached for that familiar stretch, had ached for the feeling of his cock filling her, something she had thought of for all these years. Dean hummed, letting the sound vibrate on her skin as he palmed her breasts, while he nudged his hardening cock against her clothed cunt. Curses ripped through (y/n), head rolling back to let go of another heavy moan.
Without another warning, Dean pulled away, turned her around and pressed her front down against the cold surface of her kitchen island. With quick fingers he had pushed her jeans and panties down her legs before she heard him unzip his jeans, before she heard him fumble with a condom wrapper, knowing that as much as he wanted to feel every part of her, they couldn’t risk anything, not now at least.
“I’ll give you fast and rough, baby, but after that I’ll take my sweet time with you.” Dean had pushed into her before she could reply, forcing a deep moan out of the both of them. Both their bodies needed to adjust to one another, even though she was dripping for him, folds covered in her arousal, her cunt still struggled to take all of him. Deep breaths left them both, minds torn between the sweet sensation and the overwhelming wave of emotions clashing through them.
“Move, please. Fuck me like you would have done all these years.” The growl leaving Dean made her breath hitch in her chest, fingers reaching for the edge of the kitchen island to hold on. He pulled out of her only to thrust into her with more force, set on leaving bruises on her hips with the ferocious pace he was about to build.
(Y/n)’s walls clenched around him, fluttering with every thrust that had her seeing stars. No other man had ever fucked her like Dean. Dean, the one she had always loved. Dean, the man she had wanted to grow old with. Dean, the man who had mourned a woman who had waited for his return for all these years. If there was one thing (y/n) was determined about, it was making things right, making up for all these lost years.
Their bodies met with every thrust, allowing Dean to fuck her deep, hard, fast. It was perfect, cheesy almost with their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. Dean’s fingertips were buried in the flesh of her hips, set on leaving bruises that matched those the kitchen island would leave behind. He was focused on marking her up, claiming her like he had done over a decade ago.
“Jesus, sweetheart, you feel so good. I dreamt of this almost every night.” Dean’s raspy voice left her groaning, eyes squeezed shut to try and hold on. She didn’t want to cum just yet, didn’t want to let go when Dean fucked her this ruthlessly. (Y/n) was too choked up to reply, wanted to tell him how she had always dreamt of him, of the way he touched her, but she couldn’t, she could only moan for him.
“You’re still so fucking tight, squeezing me just right. You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” An almost silent “Yes” managed to leave (y/n), coaxing a chuckle out of Dean as he let his fingers find her clit, rubbing her bundle to push her over the edge. She loudly moaned for him, giving into the call of her arising high with her eyes squeezed shut, walls clamping down on his cock.
Dean kept fucking her, forcing his cock deeper into her with every thrust. Moans kept clawing through the both of them as (y/n) came on his cock, allowing Dean to fuck her through her high in search of his own. He kept thrusting into her, head rolling back as his cock twitched, about to fill the condom. The curses leaving Dean made her walls flutter once again, knowing that he’d fuck her all through the night.
With a huff, Dean pulled out of her, throwing away the condom as she slowly turned around, facing him. He moved back towards (y/n) with a smile glued to his lips, hands cupping her warm cheeks to pull her in for a slow kiss.
“You’re still wearing it.” (Y/n) murmured the words as she reached for his hand, looking at the ring she had pushed onto his finger as he had asked her to marry him, wanting Dean to also wear a ring. Tears welled up in (y/n)’s eyes, thinking of all these years they had lost, years they could have spent together rather than apart.
“Of course I do, I couldn’t take it off, I didn’t even try to.” (Y/n) gave him a soft push back, redressed herself quickly before disappearing in another room – only to reappear seconds later. His green eyes found the ring he had bought her over ten years ago, unable to bite down his smile as she came to a halt in front of him, eyes finding his.
“If you will still have me, I’d like to start wearing it again.” A choked sound left Dean, lips finding hers as he took the ring from her, pushing it back onto the finger it had once rested on all too comfortably.
“I’ll always have you, sweetheart.”
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transposition
summary: a spell goes wrong and ends up with you and sam switching bodies. neither of you tell dean, which ends up being the greatest decision you ever made
pairing: dean winchester x witch!reader; best friend!sam winchester x witch!reader (platonic, obvs)
word count: 6.3k+
warnings: swearing, mentions of magic use, misunderstandings, miscommunication, angst, secrets, accidental love confessions, awkward idiots, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, cliches, minor use of [y/n], (female pronouns/descriptors used)
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam grunted under his breath, continuing to powder the contents of your mortar with more force than necessary. “If Dean finds out about this-”
“Dean asked me to do this,” you defended, eyes skimming over the page in front of you before looking up at him. “Okay, maybe not verbatim, but he asked!” you added upon seeing the look on Sam’s face.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure he did,” he replied sarcastically, slamming the pestle down with enough force to make you flinch.
“Would you be fucking careful!” you hissed, glaring at him. “That thing isn’t indestructible and it’s important to me, it was a gift-”
“From Dean,” he finished for you. “I know. Sorry,” he added, and even though his tone was sincere, you just knew he rolled his eyes anyway; and you chucked the closest thing you could grab at his back in retaliation.
“Dick,” you muttered, going back to reading the passage before you.
It wasn’t often that you used your powers - more so when it came down to a last resort option - and when Dean first discovered that you had magic, it wasn’t intentional. The two of you were on a hunt together, and it was - of course - not going to plan. You were on the brink of consciousness, having no choice but to watch defenselessly as Dean became outnumbered by Vamps. The spell came out of nowhere, nothing more than a primal instinct to protect him, and before anyone knew what was happening, the two of you were left alone with nothing but piles of ash where the monsters once stood. Dean first thought that Rowena had somehow stumbled upon them to save the day once more, though once he realized the spell came from you, he damn near lost his mind. You would have rather he yelled at you, smashed things around, anything compared to what he did. Once he made sure you were okay and had you checked out, he simply acted as if you didn’t exist; you were completely frozen out of his life. He never needed to say anything, you could see it in his eyes every time he glanced at you: How could you be a witch? He hated witches, and you knew that- it’s half the reason you never told him in the first place. He only started coming around with Sam’s convincing- and even then, it took an incredibly long time for him to trust you again. Then, one day, he came to realize that no matter what happened, he could never hate you. So, he came to you with an open mind and a peace offering- the exact mortar and pestle you had once told Sam that you wanted, because it reminded you of your mother’s- and the two of you worked on putting the pieces of your friendship back together.
“Ass,” Sam retorted, turning and walking over to you with the freshly crushed ingredients.
“You know,” you started, taking it from his hands. “You can’t really be against this all that much, otherwise you wouldn’t be here helping.”
“I’m only here so you don’t get yourself killed.”
“Oh, come on,” you urged with a chuckle. “You love doing this, and you know it.”
He gave you a sarcastic smile before taking the book from you. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Fine,” you huffed, snatching the book right back.
With one final glare at each other, you started the spell. Everything was going well… until it wasn’t.
You aren’t exactly sure where it went wrong. You don’t know if it was the ingredients, the way you said the spell, or just a mixture of everything, but before you even knew what was happening the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow and sent both you and Sam flying.
“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “What the fuck?” you wondered aloud, feeling strange beyond comprehension.
“What the hell happened?” Sam croaked out.
“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”
“I don’t know. Something feels wrong,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized why you felt so different. “Sam?” you asked meekly.
“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up. “Wait-”
“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; were they even your hands?
“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; your body?
“You’re me!” you exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you.
“You’re me!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.
You followed suit, using the wall behind you to help you stand. “God, how do you live like this?”
“Me? What about you? I won’t even be able to reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen!” he countered, flailing his arms around.
“At least you’ll be able to fit on your bed! My feet are gonna dangle!” you huffed, folding your arms over yourself.
“You need to fix this,” Sam declared, stepping towards you. You couldn’t help but take a few steps away- this was way too weird. You’ve seen shifters take your image before, but this was actually you. Only it wasn’t you. You felt like your head was about to explode.
“Gee, you think, Sam?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “I thought we’d just stay like this forever!”
He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door swinging open. You both flinched, turning to see Dean peering into the room.
“What the fuck’s with all the yelling?” he asked, glancing around. “The hell is going on?”
“I- uh-” you tried to answer, but nothing came to mind.
“Just, uh…. experimenting,” Sam supplied, and you sent him a glare.
“Experimenting?” Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows at you- or rather, at whom he thought was you.
“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug, not sure what else to say. The two of you shared a look, silently agreeing not to breathe a word of what was really going on.
Dean’s face softened, and he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually doing that spell. Sweetheart, we can get by without it.”
“We don’t-” you started to argue, before Sam interrupted you with a clearing of his throat.
Right. Dean wasn’t exactly talking to you right now.
“Thought it was a good opportunity to practice,” Sam replied, sounding more like he was asking than telling.
“Right,” Dean said, eyeing your body wearily.
Oh, god. He was gonna pick up on something being wrong, it was only a matter of time.
“You can leave any time now,” you spoke up, more irritated than you meant to sound, but you were severely on edge.
Dean turned to you with a look of surprise. “‘Scuse me?”
“I just- you know, we’re in the middle of something,” you continued, doing your best to stand your ground.
“Yeah, I can see that,” he quipped, taking a step towards you. “What the hell were you thinking? Why are you letting her mess around with this stuff? Better yet, why are you helping her mess around with this stuff?”
“It’s just a simple spell,” you argued, your head swirling with the fact that you were looking down on him, instead of being dwarfed by his frame like you normally would be.
“A simple spell?” he repeated, fury and irritation dancing in his eyes. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”
“Last I checked we could make our own decisions, Dean!” you exclaimed, glaring at him.
“Sure,” he placated with a nod. “So long as they’re not stupid ass decisions!”
“Can we go ten minutes in this place without a fight happening?” Sam pitched in, already exasperated with the situation.
“Yeah, sure,” Dean grumbled, glaring at you. “Food’s ready.”
“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Sam announced, earning a glare from you in return.
“Don’t you think we should finish-” you tried to ask, but were quickly cut off by Dean.
“No, you guys are done in here,” he declared, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”
“Dean-” you tried once more, only to be cut off again.
“Sam,” Dean warned. “I’m not kidding. Whatever you two were doing, it’s done.”
“Fine. We’ll be out in a few minutes,” you relented, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “We need to clean up!” you added upon seeing the look on Dean’s face.
“Five minutes,” Dean agreed pointedly. “Or I swear, I’ll drag both your asses out of this room.”
“Yeah, five minutes, got it,” you huffed, watching him as he hesitantly left the room.
You waited a few moments before hastily making your way over and all but slamming the door, turning to look at Sam with wide eyes.
“We are so screwed,” he declared, matching your expression.
“What are we supposed to do? He’s gonna figure out something’s wrong!” you exclaimed, slumping against the door behind you.
“We just…. I don’t know, pretend?” Sam suggested with a shrug.
“Pretend?” you repeated incredulously. “Sam, this is insane! We can’t just pretend to be each other!”
“It’s not like I meant permanently!” he defended, holding out his hands in surrender. “But until we can find a way to fix this, we have to at least play the part in front of Dean.”
“Fine,” you agreed with a huff. “But I am not going on your crack of dawn jogs.”
“Oh, come on-” he started to argue, though quickly stopped when met with your glare. “Yeah, okay, that- that’s fine.”
“Great. Now let’s go before Dean gets even more pissy,” you declared, opening the door with a flourish.
With a quick nod, he followed you down the hall, the two of you lowly bickering about the situation all the way to the kitchen.
“I feel like a baby giraffe with this fucking body.”
“You look like a baby giraffe, do you not know how to walk?”
“Yeah, I know how to walk! I know how to walk with normal legs!”
“Normal? You’re short enough to get in anywhere with a child’s pass!”
“Keep up with the attitude, Sam. Maybe I’ll go have a really nice salon visit and cut all this hair!”
“Fine, then maybe I’ll call up that guy from your ‘worst date ever’ and ask to catch up!”
“Fine by me. You’ll be the one he’ll be groping and hitting on the whole time.”
“Yeah- well-... look, just don’t cut my hair!”
“What are you two all hush hush about?” Dean asked curiously, eyeing you both as you entered the kitchen.
“Nothing,” you both quickly replied, taking a seat at the table.
Dean stared at you both for a moment before nodding curtly. “If you say so.”
Choosing not to reply, you both quietly watched as he joined the table, taking his regular seat next to you. Which, of course, meant he was currently next to Sam, and you watched in amusement as he shifted nervously while Dean got too close for his comfort.
Attempting to stifle a laugh, you took a bite of the burger that was placed in front of you, only to grimace in response. “What is this?” you asked through a mouthful, meeting Dean’s confused gaze.
“It’s… the same veggie burger you force me to make you every time I make burgers?” he replied, looking at you as though you lost your head.
Fucking Sam, you thought bitterly. “Oh, right. Right, it just- it tastes different, I don’t know,” you stammered, sparing a quick glance across at Sam as you hurriedly took another bite.
“You two are weirder than usual tonight,” Dean muttered to himself before eating his own food.
The three of you ate in stifling silence, you and Sam both internally trying to find a way out of this mess, before Dean spoke up again and pulled you from your revere.
“[Y/N], do you want just the usual from the store? I was gonna make a run before our movie night,” he said, turning to look beside him with a soft grin.
You felt your stomach drop as Sam cleared his throat, looking between you and Dean for a moment. “Movie night?”
“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. “Like we have every Friday?”
“Oh, right!” Sam exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t realize what day it is, I, uh- I’m actually not… feeling too hot, do you mind if we skip it tonight?”
“You wanna skip it?” Dean asked quietly, making your heart shatter as you watched the hurt and disappointment flash across his face.
After the two of you made up from your falling out, you started a tradition of spending extra quality time together at least once a week. This resulted in having a movie night every Friday, no matter what. Whether that meant catching a random movie on a motel tv or settling into the Dean Cave, you both always found a way to make it. Knowing you had no choice but to skip out this time almost made you want to tell him what happened right then and there; but you didn’t.
“Yeah, I just… I think it’s best if I just head to bed, you know? I’d hate for it to get worse,” Sam said sheepishly, playing with the glass in front of him as he met Dean’s gaze halfheartedly.
You were glad that if you had to mistakenly swap bodies with someone, it was Sam. Given that he became your best friend from just about the moment you met, he had your behaviour down pat; you just hoped you could do the same and make this all a little easier.
“Well what do you mean, what’s wrong?” Dean asked worriedly.
“I’m just feeling run down is all,” Sam said, shrugging lightly as he stood up, taking his dishes to the sink. “Maybe we can watch something tomorrow,” he added, turning back to Dean with a shy smile.
“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed softly, averting his gaze to the beer in his hands. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.”
“Sure. Uh, goodnight, guys,” Sam replied awkwardly, shooting you a pointed look before leaving.
You stayed in uncomfortable silence for a moment, studying Dean as he pouted at his bottle.
“You alright?” you asked tentatively.
“Yeah, just… first time she’s bailed on me,” he replied indifferently, downing the rest of his beer before heading to get another one.
“She didn’t bail on you,” you argued firmly. “It’s not like she chose to go bar hopping or something, she’s sick.”
“Didn’t seem so sick when she was huddled up with you,” Dean said curtly, leaning against the counter as he sent you a cold stare.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked confusedly, shifting in your seat to look at him better.
He remained silent, lips pursed as he studied you for what felt like hours, before he finally shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.”
“Then why say it?” you asked in irritation.
He remained silent once more, simply raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip before standing upright. “Night, Sammy.”
“Dean-” you tried to press, but he only ignored you as he continued across the floor, leaving the kitchen without saying another word.
You sighed in exasperation, quickly cleaning everything up before heading to your room, catching almost no sleep as you dove deep into researching for a reversal to your mistake.
“You need to shave,” Sam said, staring at you from across the table.
“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the declaration.
“Your beard - my beard. You need to shave it,” he clarified. “It’s been over a week.”
“And?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I doubt you’re taking care of all my housekeeping.”
“That’s because I’m doing everything possible to not look at you! Like you asked!” he hissed in return.
You rolled your eyes in response, returning your attention to the book in front of you. “I have more important things on my mind than shaving your stupid facial hair - which looks fine, by the way.”
Sam huffed, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, well you can at least take five minutes for me!”
“I don’t even know how to shave a beard, Sam!” you argued, closing the book in exasperation.
“Then just let me shave it for you!” he begged, leaning over the table. “I’m serious, [Y/N], you can’t just leave me all unkempt.”
You met his gaze and sighed softly. “Damn, you can even pull off the puppy dog eyes with my face. That’s a talent, Sammy.”
He couldn’t help but laugh, for what felt like the first time since this whole thing happened. “You can do it better than I can,” he chuckled. “At least when it comes to Dean,” he added with a smirk.
“What does that mean?” you asked curiously.
“Nothing,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get you- me- whatever, all taken care of before Dean gets back with dinner.”
“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed, getting up to follow him.
Before you knew it, you were standing in front of him as he sat on the bathroom counter, because: “How else are we supposed to do this? These arms aren’t gonna reach that face comfortably without some help.”
You fell into a comfortable silence as he did what he needed to do, the only words spoken being his occasional nagging for you to quit moving, as you were both lost in your own thoughts about the last few days.
“I’m really sorry, Sammy,” you said suddenly. You weren’t sure whether your voice was so quiet due to the shame you felt, or for the fear of breaking the silence that surrounded you.
“It’s not your fault,” he said simply, reflexively.
You sighed, gently shaking your head; which earned another scolding glare from him as he steadied you. “It’s entirely my fault. I fucked up big time, and we both know it.”
“Look, it was an accident,” he urged, wiping away the remnants of the shave one last time. “Assigning blame isn’t going to change anything.”
“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be furious! I practically ruined your life,” you pressed on frantically.
“Okay, that’s being dramatic,” he chided. “Yeah, this isn't an ideal situation. Though weirdly, it’s also not the weirdest situation I’ve been in. And you know what? It’s not even the first time I’ve been in this situation! Remember when that kid switched bodies with me? Trust me, you’re a much better person to be switched with.”
“Yeah, I remember,” you said, chuckling softly. “Still, I’m really sorry.”
“I know you are,” he said softly. “I also know you’ll find a way to fix this.”
“You really believe that?” you asked hesitantly.
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “‘Cause it’s you, and I’ll always have faith in you. You didn’t mean for this to happen, [Y/N]. It’s okay.”
“No, it-” you started to argue, but he cut you off.
“Stop,” he urged softly. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Maybe I was at first, but I’m not anymore.”
“Promise?” you asked meekly.
“I promise,” he said firmly.
“Okay,” you relented, not fully believing him but not wanting to push the topic any further.
“Okay,” he repeated, gently wiping away one of your stray tears.
“Maybe we should just tell Dean,” you suggested hesitantly.
“Tell me what?” Dean’s voice suddenly cut through the room.
The two of you jumped, and you moved away from the counter as calmly as you could, knowing how the predicament you were in must look to him.
You turned to the doorway and came face to face with Dean staring intently at the two of you, his mind working into an overdrive as he tried to make sense of the scene he just walked in on.
“Dean, I- when did you get back?” you asked nervously.
“Tell me what?” he asked again, ignoring your question.
You and Sam were both at a loss. You spent so much time trying to figure this whole thing out, yet neither of you thought to come up with some kind of story should you be cornered like this.
“[Y/N]?” Dean asked softly, looking over to where he thought you sat on the counter.
The look of hurt and confusion that flashed over his face and the waver in his voice all but sent a fresh wave of tears washing over you.
Dean waited impatiently a few moments before shaking his head with a scoff. “Whatever, food’s in the kitchen.”
Before anyone could say anything else, he turned on his heel and left, leaving you and Sam stunned in his wake.
The dynamic between the three of you began shifting even more ever since that night, and you could feel Dean slipping further and further away from you with each passing day.
You noticed it every time Dean would catch you and Sam huddled up and whispering low; when he would stand and stare before leaving with a quiet grumble of forgetting why he was there.
You noticed it when he started spending more time in his room or tinkering with Baby in the garage; finding any and every excuse possible to spend time outside of the bunker and away from you and Sam.
You and Sam tried to ignore it, promised yourselves that you’d explain everything once you managed to set things right - or, if you discovered you were over your heads and couldn’t fix everything.
The thing you hated most about this whole thing was that it was becoming easier and easier to lie to Dean; and the worst part about that was not knowing whether you and Sam really became more convincing, or if Dean just didn’t care enough to question you anymore.
Which is exactly why you found yourself sitting in the war room, waiting for Dean to make his way through to the kitchen, in order to try and talk things out.
You weren’t expecting him to appear with one duffle bag over his shoulder and another by his side - and he wasn’t expecting to see you, either.
“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he declared after a moment of hesitation, continuing on his path to the stairs.
“Where the hell are you going?” you asked hotly, standing from your seat.
Dean sighed, throwing his head back in frustration as he considered his response. “Donna’s cabin.”
“What? Why?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together with confusion.
“I can’t do it anymore,” he said tiredly. “I just can’t, okay?”
“Do what?” you asked wearily, taking a tentative step towards him. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you pressed, feeling your chest tighten with the rising nerves and fear.
“Don’t do that,” he demanded, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You think I don’t know what’s been going on around here?”
“What-... what’s been going on?” you asked curiously. “The hell are you talking about?”
You weren’t sure if or when he figured out what happened, and you also weren’t sure why it would make him feel the need to leave.
“I’m talking about you and [Y/N]!” he shouted, throwing his bags down and stepping towards you.
“Me and [Y/N]?” you wondered, taking a nervous step backwards.
“I’m not an idiot, okay?” he spat, his jaw ticking. “You think I haven’t noticed? Think I couldn’t figure it out?”
“Okay, look,” you began, holding out your hands defensively. “I can explain.”
Dean let out a humourless laugh, running a hand over his mouth before glaring at you once more. “Explain,” he echoed with a chuckle of disbelief. “Don’t waste your breath.”
“Why are you so pissed off about this?” you asked in bewilderment. “I mean, I know we kept it from you, but we figure it’d be easier for you.”
“Easier for me?” he repeated, voice raising. “What about this entire situation makes you think it’d be easy for me?”
“Well because it-... I mean it doesn’t really affect you, Dean,” you replied, unsure of your own words.
“It doesn’t affect me?” he repeated with perplexion. “Of course it affects me! You know how I feel about her!” he exclaimed, taking yet another step forward.
“What?” you questioned, thrown off by his response.
“Don’t “what” me,” he snapped. “I want to be happy for you, Sammy. I really do, but I just-... I don’t think I ever can be.”
“Okay, I-... I am so lost,” you admitted.
“You stole my girl, Sam!” Dean all but screamed. “You know that I love her. You know I was gonna tell her, and you know how much I want to spend whatever’s left of my god forsaken life with her! You swore you didn’t feel that way about her. You- I mean how to hell could you do this to me, Sammy? I can’t even stand to look at you anymore.”
You remained silent, staring at him in shock and confusion for what felt like hours. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to formulate a response, but all that came out was a broken whisper of his name.
“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. Not like I can blame you for falling for her, right? I mean hey, I sure did,” he sassed, smiling sarcastically. “Not surprised she chose you, either. She deserves someone better than me. But I’m not sticking around anymore to see it first hand.”
You watched in stunned silence as he turned to gather his bags, trying and failing to think of anything to say. What the hell were you supposed to do? The man of your dreams just admitted he felt the exact same way, and you were trapped in his brother's body. Even if you told him the truth right now, would he even believe you?
“Do me one favour, though,” Dean said from the foot of the stairs, effectively pulling you from your thoughts. “Don’t tell [Y/N]. Don’t tell her anything. I’ll think of something to tell her during the drive and call her tomorrow.”
“Dean-” you finally began to protest, only to go unheard by him as he started up the steps.
“Later, Sammy,” he announced with finality, disappearing out of the bunker.
“You have got to be kidding me. I mean honestly woman, how stupid can you be?” Rowena’s voice rang through the war room as she made her arrival known to you and Sam.
“Did you not get in enough insults over the phone?” you asked in exasperation, not bothering to move from your spot in the library as you watched her approach.
“I don’t think there are enough insults for this situation, dear,” she said sweetly, smiling innocently.
“Either be helpful or leave, Rowena,” you replied solemnly.
It had been three days since Dean left, and over two weeks since the whole debacle happened. You had never been more determined to find a solution, nor had you ever felt more defeated.
“Alright, fine. No need to be cranky,” Rowena tsked, taking a seat across from you. “Go on, then. Walk me through everything.”
“Fine,” you sighed, steadying yourself before recounting the situation.
“Let me get this straight,” Rowena declared, holding a hand up. “You actually let him leave? After what he said?”
“Is that seriously your only take away from this?” you asked angrily, glaring at her.
“It’s not my only take away, but it’s certainly a big one,” she said calmly, accompanied by a half shrug. “This is the spell you used?” she asked, looking over the book you gave her during your explanation.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” you confirmed sheepishly.
“Well, don’t you worry. We’ll have you and Samuel right as rain in no time, dear,” she comforted, eyes never leaving the pages in front of her.
It took another four days, but ‘No time’ finally came. You were practically itching to get this all over and done with as the three of you finished setting everything up. You didn’t even care about being in your own skin again, all you cared about at this point was getting Dean back in your life. He did everything possible to avoid talking to you or Sam each time either of you tried contacting him, and you were missing him more and more with each passing hour.
“That should do it,” Rowena declared, snapping you back to attention. “You know what you need to do?”
“Yes,” you said quickly, urging her out of the room; the last thing you needed was for her to be around and have the spell go wrong again, resulting in all three of you being scrambled around.
“Don’t rush it!” she cautioned. “I know you want him back, but you need to take this slowly. You can’t afford another screw up!”
Her statement made you pause, and you knew she was right. “Go slow, I got it,” you confirmed, shutting her out of the room.
“Ready?” Sam asked, looking at you eagerly; albeit nervous beyond belief.
“More than ever,” you declared, taking your place at the altar.
You began the spell, doing everything slowly and precisely so there was no room for error. Once you had finished, however, nothing had happened. You were just about ready to scream with all the emotions boiling inside of you when suddenly the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow, sending both you and Sam flying.
“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “This again?” you wondered aloud.
“Did it even work?” Sam croaked out.
“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”
“I think so,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized what happened. “Sam?” you asked breathlessly.
“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up himself. “Wait-”
“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; your own hands.
“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; his very own body.
“You’re you!” you exclaimed in glee, pointing at him.
“You’re you!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.
You followed suit, taking a moment to steady yourself on your own feet. “I need to go,” you announced, not giving him time to reply before you ran out of the room.
“You’re welcome!” Rowena called after you, watching you run by.
“Thank you!” you called back absently, hurrying out to your car.
The drive took longer than ever before; at least, it felt like it did. You spent the whole time trying to think of what to say, of how to explain, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed like enough. All you could hope for was that everything would magically come to you once you stood before him.
If he ever decided to open the goddamn door.
“Dammit, Dean! Open the fucking door before I break it down!” you yelled, banging your hand against the wood for the upteenth time.
You opened your mouth to yell once more, but before you could even make a sound a voice boomed out from behind you. “What are you doing here?”
You turned with a start, coming face to face with Dean as he stood at the bottom of the steps. “I came to talk to you,” you said simply, taking a few steps forward.
He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on wiping the grease from his hands with the rag he held. “Coulda just called,” he countered gruffly.
“Why?” you asked, laughing dryly. “You’d just ignore my calls.”
He stilled his ministrations for a moment before shrugging, glancing back up at you. “Maybe ‘cause we got nothing to talk about.”
“Dean-” you tried to argue, though you stopped short when he rolled his eyes and turned away from you.
“Look, I know all about you and Sam, okay?” he huffed, storming across the drive and to where Baby was parked, hood still open for Dean to continue working on her.
“Oh, for god’s sake, Dean. There is no me and Sam!” you exclaimed with a groan, quickly following behind him.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he placated, picking up his previously abandoned ratchet.
“Just listen to me,” you pleaded, watching his face scrunch with a mix of frustration and concentration as he dove back into his work.
“You don’t need to explain,” he said distractedly. “I get it. He’s good for you. I just-... you didn’t need to hide it, [Y/N/N]. I thought we were closer than that.”
“We are! That’s not what we were hiding, just let me explain!” you said desperately, stepping closer to him.
“You can quit the act, okay?” he snapped, stopping what he was doing as he stood up, finally turning to look at you. “I have eyes, I saw what-”
“Sam and I fucking switched bodies!” you yelled over him, effectively rendering him speechless. “Alright? When you walked in on us doing that spell the other week… it went wrong, Dean. Sam and I, we just-... we switched!”
“You… switched bodies?” he asked slowly, scepticism starting to present itself on his face as he processed what you said.
“Yes,” you confirmed softly. ”I was Sam, Sam was me.”
He nodded, shifting uncomfortably as he anxiously tapped his fingers on Baby’s exterior. “Well, isn’t that just a great story,” he muttered, leaning under the hood once more.
“It’s not a story,” you argued desperately. “It’s what happened.”
“Then why not tell me?” he challenged, not missing a beat.
“Because,” you began lamely. “You always have so much on your plate, Dean. We didn’t want to shove this stupid thing on you and add to your worries.”
“So you lied to me for my own good?” he asked harshly, gaze not straying from his hands as he worked.
“We didn’t lie, we just-”
“Avoided the truth,” he finished for you. “Same thing, if you ask me.”
“We thought it was for the best,” you admitted quietly.
“Oh, yeah,” he agreed sarcastically, throwing his tools down. “Sneaking around, icing me out. Definitely for my best interest, huh?”
“Dean, please,” you pleaded. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
“Then why did you come, [Y/N]?” he shouted, shutting Baby’s hood. “What did you think was gonna happen here?”
“Well, I thought-... I just-... I wanted to clear the air,” you stammered. “I wanted to explain.”
“Well, you explained,” he muttered, busying himself with tidying his mess.
You watched him silently for a few moments, trying to think of your next move. You decided to ask the question that’s been on your mind since he left: “Were you really planning on actually telling me one day?”
He let out an irritated sigh, picking up his belongings and moving around to the trunk. “What are you talking about?”
“Were you really gonna tell me?” you repeated, quickly taking a few steps to meet him at the trunk.
“Tell you what?” he huffed, irritation oozing off of him as he slammed the toolbox down.
“How you feel!” you blurted out, taking yet another step towards him.
“The hell are you talking about?” he questioned, feigning cluelessness. Though the way his body stiffened as he idly messed with the stuff in the trunk betrayed him; he knew what you meant.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you replied softly. “Were you?”
“I don’t know!” he huffed, shutting the trunk. “Maybe,” he added, walking away from you once more.
“You said-”
“I know what I said!” he interrupted, clearly irritated. “Can we not relive it? I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Well I do!” you argued, exasperated. “Why the fuck else do you think I’m here, Dean?”
“To clear the air,” he sneered, repeating your earlier words as he made his way back to the cabin.
“To tell you I love you!” you shouted after him, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t choose Sam. How can I choose him when I’ve loved you for years? How can I choose him when my entire world stopped spinning the day you shut me out of your life all those years ago? How can I choose him when I didn’t feel like I could breathe until you finally spoke to me again? How can I choose him, when having to watch you walk away the other day was the most terrifying thing I had to do, because I didn’t know if I’d ever get you back this time? You can put us in any timeline, in any universe, or in any realm, and I will always choose you. I love you.”
You were met with silence for entirely too long, and you watched the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders as he kept his back to you, standing tense as ever with his head down low.
“Will you just look at me, please?” you pleaded shakily.
As soon as the words left your mouth he spun on his heel and marched towards you, closing the distance between you two in seconds. He grabbed your face in his hands, letting a moment of hesitation pass by before crashing his lips against yours. It was harsh yet delicate, slow but needy. It was gentle and all consuming. His hands strayed from your face, one sweeping to the back of your head to hold you steady while the other slipped to your waist and pulled you close. Your hands found themselves gliding up his arms, resting on the base of his neck for a moment before settling on his cheeks.
When the two of you finally pulled away to catch your breath, it seemed like neither of you wanted to go too far; foreheads pressed together and noses brushing as you both giggled quietly, shy smiles on your swollen lips.
You stood like that for a few minutes, basking in each other's presence in ways you never could before, until your gentle whisper cut through the silence: “Please come home, Dean.”
“My sweet girl,” he said quietly, planting a delicate kiss to your forehead before completely wrapping you up in his arms, holding you closer than ever. “I am home.”
tagging: @winharry
dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika
#supernatural#spn#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#sam winchester#dean winchester x you#dean x reader#dean winchester x female!reader#dean x you#dean x y/n#dean winchester x y/n#sam winchester x reader#dean x female!reader#supernatural fanfiction#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fluff#dean fluff#dean fic#dean winchester angst#dean angst#sam winchester fluff#supernatural fandom#supernatural fic#dean winchester x plus size reader#jensen ackles#jared padalecki#best friend!sam winchester
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Ours
[Sequel to Yours] Took a while, but I got there! 😅
They were quiet as they ate but someone was inevitably bound to break the silence eventually. To Dean’s chagrin, it was Sam.
“So, how long ‘til Cas can get his body back in order?”
Dean coughed around his food before he could force it down, and Cas warmed at the anxiety the question produced.
“Today, we think,” his response fell flat.
“That quick?” his brother’s brows rose.
“Yeah, why?” Dean looked uncomfortable though he tried to hide it.
“Just thought it would take longer since Cas’ powers have been sort of…” Sam suddenly looked unsure of his words, afraid to hurt the Angel’s feelings or make him self-conscious, “I don’t know, just thought you guys would need more time, but that’s great! Get to go back to normal.”
“Yeah, normal,” Dean took a bite of his forgotten food.
Are we…? Going back to normal?
“No,” he practically choked startling the other two seated at the table.
He looked around, a red tint to his face.
“This is… um… a little private,” he cringed before trying something he didn’t expect to work but when he let his eyes open again, he was in a dimly lit bar as the sound of a door closing rang out around him.
“What just happened?” Sam asked as Dean’s eyes looked back and forth between them in surprise.
“I, uh… believe Dean has shut himself away,” a deeper voice left his throat.
“Cas?” Mary asked next and his eyes settled on hers.
“Yes, it’s just me right now…” he cleared his throat and pushed his food away.
“Is he okay?” Mary ventured.
“I think this has been a lot for Dean to cope with…” he answered back, “He felt overwhelmed before…”
“Was it something I said?” Sam shifted uncomfortably.
“I think it’s none of our business,” Mary stood, grabbing her plate and the one Cas had pushed away from him to take to the sink.
“I’m not sure what to make of it myself,” Cas admitted through Dean’s lips, “He says he’s ready for me to be myself again, but…”
“People are complicated,” Mary’s hand rested on his shoulder as she returned to the table, “And sometimes feelings can be contradictory…”
He nodded but still looked lost.
“Yes, I’ve noticed that too,” he agreed as their eyes met.
And it surprised her how much she could see him in her son’s expression- in his eyes.
“Think you guys just need to talk,” Sam added as his hand dropped onto Dean’s shoulder, “Can you-”
“I can find him,” Cas turned to him confidently.
“‘Course you can,” Sam smirked back, shaking his head a bit as Cas stood.
He went to the room Dean referred to as the him cave. Which Cas had never understood. There were other rooms much more cave-like than this one, yet he never asked the hunter to explain further and instead simply accepted it as one of those things that made Dean who he was.
He found the dvd he was looking for, put it into the device Dean had taught him to use recently, and sat on the couch.
He closed his eyes and when they opened again, he was standing in the middle of a bar.
“Heya Cas,” Dean’s voice drew his eyes leftward where he was seated on a stool with a drink in hand and another in front of the stool next to him.
Castiel took the invitation and joined him.
“What happened back there?” he asked softly, stealing a quick glance.
He missed being able to look at him like this. He was beautiful, but Cas had always known that.
“I don’t want you to go,” Dean admitted in a way reminiscent of ripping off a bandaid, “And it’s stupid ‘cause you’re just going back to being you again which I want, but having you here is…”
Cas’ hand rested on his own, and Dean’s eyes rose, “I’m going to miss it too.”
Dean looked at him like he felt see-through, begrudging and embarrassed, but also like he couldn’t keep the adoration from his eyes and the smile from spreading across his face.
“But there are perks to this too,” Cas leaned over, ghosting a hand over Dean’s cheek as their lips met.
It felt real. It felt so real.
Dean looked practically beside himself when they parted, adjusting in his seat and clearing his throat to cover the emotion that was flooding him.
“I want to be able to touch you,” Cas admitted like it was a secret, “But Dean, if you want me to stay, I will.”
“No, I… No,” Dean shook his head, “I want you back to being you again.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” the Angel assured him.
“I’m ready,” he rose to his feet and Cas followed.
And they opened their eyes. Once again in the Dean cave where Cas had left them.
“You were watching Tombstone?” Dean mused out loud in shy fondness.
I thought you might want to watch it…
“Yeah,” he answered, all affection and warmth inside.
And that’s how they sat until the end of the movie, just enjoying each other’s thoughts and feelings until it was time.
They rose wordlessly and walked to the dungeon, Dean’s hands reaching out and his knees bending to kneel next to the lifeless form as they neared. A light poured over the shell that looked like Cas but also didn’t, and the body began to mend before his eyes.
I think it’s time.
“Yeah,” Dean’s soul reached out and Cas was already there to meet him, both needing the comfort.
“I’ll see you in a second?” Dean thought to himself.
“Yes, Dean,” was the soft response in his mind.
And then blue eyes were looking at him, Cas was sitting up, and he didn’t know when he grabbed him but he found himself embracing the Angel tightly like he would disappear if he let go.
Cas took a moment longer but then his arms wrapped around Dean’s own and the warmth spread through them both.
It wasn’t so dissimilar from before, and Dean suddenly felt silly for thinking they wouldn’t have that the way they are.
“I missed you,” the Angel whispered next to his ear.
“Missed you too,” Dean mumbled back, trying to hide how his voice shook.
He was hit by the smell of him, the feeling of the scruff against his cheek. He was real and solid and here, and a laugh escaped him at the thought that he put this off the way he did.
“What?” Cas pulled back enough to look at him, arms still holding onto his own.
“Nothing,” Dean’s smile was brilliant, “Just glad to have you back.”
Cas started to lean toward him but paused in question, scared to push forward without a confirmation which Dean granted by closing in the remainder of the space himself.
And that’s how Sam found them, clapping from the doorway as Dean looked for an item to throw at his perpetually interrupting younger brother.
“Mom wants to say goodbye properly to you guys before she leaves,” he informed the pair and their eyes returned to each other.
“Why am I nervous?“ Cas asked in amusement.
“Don’t worry,” Dean’s grin got away from him, an embarrassing amount of joy flooding his body, “Mom loves you.”
He threw his arm over the other man’s shoulders and guided him from the room.
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@spuffy-destiel @destieliscanon5nov
Mine (part 1) and Yours (Part 2):
#dean winchester#castiel#Sam winchester#mary winchester#supportive sam winchester#mary ships it#destiel#castiel x dean#possession#body sharing#hurt/comfort#dean loves cas#Dean uses his words
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