How I feel reading anything Supernatural x reader bc I genuinely have no survival instinct and they would probably hate me in real life because I sing when I’m nervous and I would jump at the sound of a fart.
headcannons ٠࣪⭑ non-explicit, Dean Winchester x reader (f), Dean in love, major fluff, Ig I’m just pumping out hcs today
٠࣪⭑ Dean would wash your hair while murmuring about all the unnecessary girly products you use, yet his heartbeat would stutter in his chest at the smell, because it reminds him of you, and he’d smile while watching you melt under his hands that are threaded in your hair.
٠࣪⭑ he would act all cocky, constantly cracking suggestive jokes and looks, until your soapy hands glide all over him, massaging the knots in his neck and getting all the dirt and grime from the hunt off his skin— yeah he’s a goner. The man melts like butter in a hot pan.
٠࣪⭑ dramatic soft shower kisses are mandatory, whether it’s you stealing a kiss from him while his eyes are closed or he pulls you in while “innocently” washing your body. Neither of you caring about the suds dripping into your eyes.
٠࣪⭑ a long domestic hug under the spray after you’re all clean, just his big arms wrapped around you, engulfed in the shower steam and weak water pressure, warm bare bodies pressed together just right that it feels like you’re one. He’d press an absentminded kiss to your wet hair and sigh as he let the post-hunt exhaustion comfortably fall over him.
٠࣪⭑ he’d get out and towel himself off first just so he can wrap you up in a fresh towel, with such concentration it’s almost comical, right when you get out so you’re not too cold.
٠࣪⭑ Dean would also totally help brush and blow dry your hair— and for my fellow curly girls, he’d put in all your products (he’s practically a pro after watching you do it so many times), running his hands through your hair so reverently, scrunching with his big hands, and he’d even diffuse it for you because he knows you can’t fall asleep with wet hair, and that you’re tired after the hunt (so is he but he doesn’t care)
cuddle pile ❪ n. ❫ — 〔 /ˈkəd(ə)l pīl/ 〕 𝟏. refers to the grouping of three (3) or more persons close together in a ‘pile-like’ formation in a caring manner, usually for sleep.
“the cuddle pile gives sam and dean the physical touch they’ve been missing.”
IN YOUR ENTIRE TIME KNOWING THE WINCHESTER BROTHERS, you’ve found yourself in a cuddle pile with them two times.
they’ve been drastically different situations, and yet, not very different in terms of the ‘pile’ itself: you sandwiched between both sam and dean, their heads resting on you, their arms slung over some part of you. they’re both breathing deep, both relaxed as much as they could be. they’re still wound so tight somewhere you can’t reach, somewhere no one can seem to penetrate—but yet, they let their guard down around you. and you hold that fact close in your heart.
⁰¹ AFTER A NIGHTMARE.
the first time, it’s from a place of sheer desperate need. dean comes into your room first, his chest heaving from another nightmare of the pit. he’s shaking when he approaches your bedside, like a leaf in the wind. you look up at him not with pity, but with every intention to just help him. to hold him. and that’s what makes him cave like a house of cards.
you don’t ask questions. you just hold him under your blankets, like you want to shield him from everything in the world. he’s grateful you don’t say anything. you’ve always been able to figure out exactly what dean needs, without him telling you a thing. it’s made him seek you out—because half the time, he doesn’t know what he needs.
dean ends up buried in your chest, holding onto you for dear life as he fights to keep from drowning. his breathing is just starting to even out against you when you hear a creak of the floorboard and see sam standing in your door. he, like dean, is also shaking. or a brief second, you wonder if they had the same nightmare. is that even a thing? but you sit up a little more, dean still in your arms. he’s tensed up completely again—and after seeing who’s there, every cell in his body is telling him to run. sam can’t see him like this: his big brother, curled up into you like a scared little kid. but he is.
sam ends up on the other side of you, not saying anything, either. it’s quiet, the only sounds the fan and dean and sam’s uneven breathing. dean’s arm is wrapped high on your torso, close to your diaphragm, his head on your shoulder. sam’s arm is wrapped more by your hips, his head resting on the side of your chest. your own arms are wrapped each of the brothers’ shoulders.
technically, sam and dean are facing each other as they lay on either side of you, but they’re not looking at each other—probably as to not psych themselves out. they’re aware of the other’s presence, but don’t necessarily acknowledge it. after all, they’re both seeking comfort from you, not each other. you can’t see much of them through their tufts of hair, but you don’t need to. you can feel them both relaxing into your body, their once unbelievably tense shoulders now just a tad tense. you’re sure something inside both of them will never let them fully relax, but you take this moment. you take this win.
⁰² AFTER A DAY OF SWIMMING.
it’s a sunny day at bobby’s—and for once, you and the boys have a day to yourselves. no case, no leads to chase down, no research to do. sam suggests going to the lake nearby bobby’s house, and you all agree. soon enough, you’re on the road in baby, cooler sitting next to you in the backseat.
dean, of course, cannonballs into the lake. you and sam are walking side by side on the dock, chairs that bobby digged out for you in hand—and a whoosh of air flows past you both as dean jumps in, the splash starting a ripple spreading through the entire lake. his head pops up after a few beats, grinning wide. you shake your head as dean goads you to come join him, but you hold off for now.
sam’s next to go in the water—well, dean may have triple dog dared him to—and you pretend to be annoyed that he splashed you upon jumping in. you think at this moment, they kind of remind you of dogs. their hair’s wet, and you can almost imagine a pair of floppy ears on sam.
you find the frisbee one of you packed, wiggle it at the boys wading in the water. you promise whoever gets the frisbee the most times gets first pick on the lunch you all brought. it’s not much of a prize at all—but sam and dean take it seriously. you’re not sure who wins, anyway. sam and dean push at each other every time you threw it, splashing at the other to deter them. they’re laughing—and you haven’t heard that sound in a while. a long while.
after the lunch is eaten and the sun is dipping into the horizon, you decide to head back. droplets make their way down, soaking into the soft fabric of your shirt as you sit in the backseat once more, looking at the sunburned necks of the winchester brothers. it’s silent, but not uncomfortable. it’s probably the most comfortable you’ve been in a while, you think.
after you showered, you realize your day the sun has taken most of your energy away. you lay down on the bed bobby brought into the living room for you, sighing once your head hits the pillow.
sam’s not sure why he lays down next to you after his own shower. his entire face hurts from the sunburn, and his back isn’t doing so hot, either. it’s cold in the room, but he doesn’t reach for the bigger blanket, just the sheet that’s covering you. he doesn’t reach for you or anything—he doesn’t know if he’s allowed—but you seem to find him in your sleep, regardless.
dean, still wincing from the shower’s stream hitting his own sunburned skin, also finds himself laying on the opposite side of you, the cold pillow a contrast to the red on his face, giving his freckles a chance in the spotlight again. you and sam are both asleep already—and dean falls under quickly too, his head resting close to the crook of your shoulder. sam’s slumped on your other side haphazardly—but still touching you. you’re all dead to the world as you lay there.
it’s strange, how these boys are just that: boys. even though they are well above 6 feet and could hunt and kill anyone and anything, they’re still boys. they’re still full of energy, like when they were young—although, it may be a little depleted now. but they had a good day today.
a good day in the sun.
📨 many a time have i discussed this concept with @aseafullofstars… now it has come to life. also still wishing we got a beach episode. guys let them play frisbee.
