mar

even angels have to confess

[ddeanangel]

Okay, hear me out. I’ve been cooking up an idea for a while now. Maybe a little series with some age gap, forbidden romance... maybe a DBF or neighbor. The problem is, I can't decide if I want to write it with older!Dean or Beau Arlen. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

[ddeanangel]

Aerion’s the kind of guy who gets drunk and sends his friends videos of him fucking you

Walk with me 🧘🏻‍♀️

[ddeanangel]

I miss writing. I want to, so much, but I’m trapped by the choices I made.

[ddeanangel]

Devotion

Pairing: Dean Winchester x religious!reader.

Summary: Dean finds comfort in your faith and chooses to join you.

CW: Mentions of guilt, faith/religion, English is not my first language.

WC: 1,6K.

A/N: This one holds a piece of my heart. I hope you like it as much as I do.

Dean was leaning against the Impala, chewing the inside of his cheek. He was idly kicking a rock with the tip of his foot.

He placed his hand against Baby’s hood, speaking softly. "It’s okay. She’s coming." As if he were comforting her, when in truth, it was more for himself than for his poor car. He clenched his jaw slightly, crossing his arms while humming quietly.

He looked up. A small crease formed between his brows as he stared at the front of the church. He raised his eyes to the dome, huffing softly when he saw the cross towering on top.

It had become a routine. Waiting for you outside the church after each case or every now and then while you prayed for some of that religious crap, as he used to call it. Never in front of you, he never could. He didn’t understand how you could be religious after all the crap you both saw daily, knowing the truth.

But it was one of the things he loved about you. Your ability to see the good even when it didn’t seem like there was any. To keep finding the good in life even with how corrupted and filthy it was. Although maybe we’re no longer talking about the world, are we?

He liked seeing how faithful you were and how you still believed in the existence of a God. It gave him hope, even if just a little.

Motivated by that, he moved away from the Impala. Approaching the church, climbing the steps slowly and pushing the heavy door open, stepping into the silent chapel. Holding his breath without realizing it, stopping at the nave.

His eyes stopped at the altar, observing for a second. He had to admit they had a pretty interior.

He remembered the reason he was there: you.

He looked for you, quickly scanning the few people there. When he finally spotted you, he exhaled the breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. He walked toward you, his steps almost hurried after not seeing you in how long? Half an hour? It was too long for him.

His footsteps seemed to echo through the whole place, and he muttered a curse under his breath at the tiles. Slowing his steps to quieter, softer ones, not wanting to make much noise. Not wanting to disturb your prayer.

When he finally reached the pew where you were, he felt breathless again. Standing there in silence, admiring you. You were seated, your head bowed, a rosary tangled between your fingers, the small cross dangling, your thumbs brushing one of the beads. Your lips moving ever so slightly, praying under your breath.

The sun filtered through the stained glass, dyeing the suspended dust in warm colors that fell right on you. Making you look like something divine. Something pure.

He took a step back, unsure. Feeling like he didn’t belong there, like an intruder. He thought about going back outside to wait by the car. And just when he was about to, he heard his name. He heard you whispering his name.

In the midst of your prayers, your petitions, and your confessions, you took a moment for him. Someone who didn’t feel worthy of something like that. How could he?

As Nietzsche said, right? When you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. That’s what Dean Winchester thought of himself. He didn’t want to drag you into his shit, too. He called himself selfish for not wanting to let you go. But it was hard when you filled him with prayers and assured him of how good he was for you, how much you loved him, and how you knew he was capable of protecting you. Even though you could do it on your own.

Putting guilt aside and quieting the part that reprimanded him, he slid silently onto the seat beside you. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and staring straight ahead.

He noticed your reaction. How you almost moved away as one of your hands shifted to your side to reach for the small silver dagger you kept in the garter on your thigh beneath your dress. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when you realized instantly it was him. Yeah… you could protect yourself.

Your body relaxed once you saw it was him, smiling fondly at the fact he had joined you. He looked at you, returning the smile, a bit sheepish. Dean glanced at your hand when you reached it out to him, understanding what you were asking for.

He took his hand out of his pocket, placing it over yours. Your other hand covered both, wrapping his cold, calloused hand between your warm and soft ones. He let out a soft sigh, feeling a warm sensation bloom inside him at the simple gesture.

You brought your joined hands to your mouth, your lips brushing the back of his hand for a brief moment. You gave a gentle squeeze before continuing your prayer, slightly louder. Just enough for your boyfriend to hear.

"I also give thanks for allowing us another day with a successful hunt and for the lives we were able to save. I’m grateful that we have another day alive, together." you whispered softly, your eyes closing again.

You stayed like that for a while longer. Dean accompanied you in silence the whole time. Here and there, you could hear him mutter some parts of the prayers, joining you to finish the rosary.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. But he saw you make the sign of the cross along with a soft "Amen" and mirrored you. His movements a bit clumsy as he copied you, using his left hand. You giggled softly upon seeing it, your heart melting at how he not only accompanied you in something you loved, but participated despite not being involved in the same way.

"Dean, honey… it’s with the other one." you corrected gently, releasing his hand you were holding. Earning a huff and a playful eye roll, doing it again. This time correctly.

He kissed his knuckles, muttering begrudgingly. "Amen."

At the same time, you leaned in and kissed his cheek. Whispering along with him. He turned to look at you, his eyes reflecting a bit of surprise and love. A slight blush tinging his cheeks.

He noticed how you saw it, your lips curling into a smile. He stopped you before saying anything.

"If you keep it up, I’ll kiss you right here under the old man’s eyes." He joked with tenderness, warning you. You just smiled, lips pressed into a thin line, giving a small shrug.

Dean smiled softly, glancing around. Noting that there were only a few adults seated at a distance. They won’t notice, he thought, turning his gaze back to you. His hand reached to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek as he leaned in slowly.

Giving you time to pull away or stop him if you didn’t want to. Instead, you leaned into his touch, looking at him with adoration and devotion in your eyes.

He cradled your cheek gently, closing the distance and kissing you. Pressing his lips to yours for just a few seconds. Pulling away before deepening it. He wasn’t a believer, but he wasn’t going to be disrespectful in the house of the Lord either.

He looked at you and smiled as he saw you open your eyes slowly, exhaling peacefully. You smiled back, holding his hand again.

"Perfect. Now that we’re done, we can go." you said, shrugging, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. A smile growing on his lips upon hearing you.

"Thought you’d never say it" he murmured playfully. Standing from the pew with a soft creak. He gently pulled your hand, and without hesitation, you followed, standing from the bench.

He intertwined his fingers with yours, walking together toward the exit. He looked at you, noticing the small but unmistakable smile on your face. Your eyes meeting his, completely glowing.

You reached the nave together, Dean about to open the door again but you stopped. Releasing his hand and turning toward the altar, making the sign of the cross again before turning back to him. Who looked at you with tenderness.

This time, wrapping your arm around his. "Let’s go" you told him with a gentle nod, smiling warmly.

Dean gave a faint smile, turning his face and pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. Muttering a "Let’s go" finally opening the door.

He let you walk out and released the door, letting it close. He gently moved his arm, making you let go so he could wrap it around your shoulders and pull you to him. Your arm wrapped around his waist.

You descended the steps together, in a comforting silence. Walking back to the car.

"Ah, my little devout angel" he said in an affectionate tease, smiling brightly. Remembering how you mentioned his name, making him wonder if it was possible to love you more. You just laughed softly, and when you finally reached Baby again, you turned. Facing him, so close you could see the small and adorable freckles decorating Dean’s face.

A few seconds passed without saying anything, just looking at each other with tenderness. Smiling like two people in love, because you were. Finally, your voice broke the silence. Speaking with honesty. "I love you."

Dean’s smile seemed to grow, pulling you a bit closer until your noses were touching. He wrapped his arms around your waist, replying in a velvety and confident tone. "I love you too."

[ddeanangel]

Tender roadtrip —⁠☆ D.W

Warning: physical touch, implied emotional intimacy, Dean being devastatingly tender while driving. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!!

Word count: 494.

A/N: Thank you so so much for all the love on my first post! I'm honestly so grateful for every single one of you, it means a lot!!I’m back with another lil thing—more soft n' domestic Dean stuff (can u tell I’m obsessed?) Not really proud of it but I hope you like it anyway. XX 💌

Silence ruled inside the Impala as you returned from a case in Oklahoma. Small groups of travelers had gone missing from old, allegedly haunted motels—vanishing without a trace. A few scattered belongings, none with anything of real value to the local authorities. Luckily, they hadn’t discarded them. That led you to discover the culprit: a Djinn who’d been feeding off fear and longing, hiding behind the motel’s reputation.

Defeating a Djinn wasn’t exactly hard. Not when you’ve faced Lucifer, stopped the apocalypse, and lived to tell the tale. Twice. Maybe more, depending on who’s counting

Still, it was draining. Tracking down the cause behind the disappearances, fighting to stay alive—it took a toll. Sam was asleep in the back seat, curled around his duffel like it was a pillow. It was kind of funny seeing him all folded up, searching for a position where he could fit comfortably despite his height. A soft smile tugged at your lips watching him, strands of hair drifting over his forehead and making you want to reach out and brush them aside.

Your eyes drifted back to the window, watching the road smear past in long streaks. Baby was devouring miles with that steady hunger, driving you home toward the bunker.

A hand rested on your knee—a gentle squeeze that pulled your attention to the driver. Dean, sporting a few days’ beard, looked rugged and focused. His eyes stayed on the road as he gently nodded his head to the beat, fingers tapping the wheel in rhythm with the soft hum of Willie Nelson from the radio. Feeling your gaze, he stole a quick glance at you, and his lips lifted in a small smile. He looked forward again, though this time, the smile lingered at the corner of his mouth. One arm reached across to the seatback, fingers lightly grazing your shoulder.

“C'mere” He said quietly, cutting through the heavy silence. You obeyed, shifting closer, the leather seat whispering beneath you. You nearly curled up next to him, exhaling without realizing you'd been holding your breath. The warmth radiating off Dean seeped into your skin, making you shiver at how cold the air had been by comparison.

He noticed the tremble in your shoulders. The arm draped over the seatback dropped down and wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his chest. He lowered his head, pressing a kiss to the top of yours, smiling as he felt you melt into his side. The smell of your shampoo filled his senses, and that smile only grew as you reached across, winding an arm around his middle and settling against him.

Dean loved drives like these. They’d kicked another monster’s ass—it wouldn’t hurt anyone anymore—and now he had his girl in his arms, Baby beneath him, the road stretching endlessly ahead. Life would hit them again soon, with stress and chaos and all kinds of mess. But moments like this? They made being alive actually worth it.

[ddeanangel]

Bed time — Dean Winchester.

Too tired to proofread. If you spot a mistake, it wasn’t one, your mind’s playing tricks on you

You were buried in books and scattered notes that covered the table. A cold cup of coffee sat abandoned by the open laptop, tabs blossoming like petals across its screen. Curled forward in your chair, writing with intensity as music throbbed through your headphones, you didn’t notice Dean watching you quietly from the doorway.

He’d been watching for a while now. He’d seen how your lips pressed together with frustration, the slight furrow of your brow when you mistyped a sentence and erased it with fury, your hand rubbing at your tired eye. That was when he decided to step in.

He approached gently, making sure not to disturb you. His hands landed softly on your shoulder blades, and he leaned in just enough for his lips to hover near your ear. One hand rose to slip off a headphone.

"You’ve been at this for hours, sweetheart. You need a break," he whispered, his signature smile tugging at his lips. He leaned in further to kiss your temple, lingering there for a breath.

A sigh escaped you as Dean felt your shoulders relax under his palms. You took off the other headphone, turning toward him, lips curled into a tired pout mirrored in your eyes. You tilted your chin, silently asking for a kiss.

Dean’s smile bloomed at the sight of you. He understood that look instantly—he knew you like the back of his hand. You were his girl, after all. What wouldn’t he do for you? So he leaned in and kissed you. Just that. Still and slow. A quiet kiss, the kind you loved.

He pulled back with a soft sound between your lips and his. You stayed there for a moment with your eyes closed, exhaling gently before blinking them open, a sleepy smile already forming as you met his gaze. Straightening up, you winced at the ache in your back from hours hunched over.

"Can we go to bed?" you asked, voice low and a little hoarse from long silence. You looked at Dean and caught that flicker in his eyes—like the one he had when talking about old Western movies he adored or when gripping Baby’s steering wheel with childish glee. Only now, he looked at you that way.

"Of course we can," he chuckled, eyes warm. He reached for your hand, and you took his, fingers lacing together as you rose from the chair. But before you could walk away, you glanced at the chaotic mess of the table behind you. Dean cut in before you could say anything.

"We’ll deal with it tomorrow. C'mon"

He knew you'd protest, so he slid an arm around the back of your neck and pulled you close to his chest. His lips traveled across your forehead, planting kisses here and there before you could get a word in.

A laugh bubbled from your lips as you turned your face, trying to escape his kisses. “Dean, love! Really, I should…” you muttered through a smile.

Dean grinned, caught your chin between his fingers, and turned your face back to his. You opened your mouth again—but he hushed you with another kiss. Lazy, unhurried. A kiss that told you everything he couldn’t say.

It was the kind of kiss that caught you off guard and left your knees soft. And God— Dean Winchester could really kiss. You melted into him, hands clutching the front of his flannel, letting your lips move in that familiar, wordless dance.

He wrapped his arms around you tighter, guiding you gently backwards toward his room. You didn’t resist. That smile never left your lips, and when he felt it against his, he smiled too.

Still kissing, still giggling softly like teenagers in love—you walked blind into the dark, hand in hand, heart in mouth.

A/N: First time posting, so please be gentle. I promise I’ll get better