Headcanon: Wearing His Clothes
Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader
AN: I haven't done one of these in a while! This one was requested by the lovely @luci-in-trenchcoats. 💜
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff, spiciness/implied smut
Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you (getting caught) wearing his clothes.
Dean Winchester
Ugh, what a cocky SOB. 😆 (And yet, not the cockiest of them all.)
You've been doing it for weeks now, without comment from him.
But every time he sees you in one of his undershirts, getting ready for bed, it's always accompanied by a little once-over. A curve of his lips. A smirk, if you will.
He likes the look of you.
He likes that you're his.
And he likes the fact that you feel comfortable enough to steal his clothes.
He also likes welcoming you into bed next to him, with a hand running up your back, or venturing under whatever undershirt you've decided to slip on to feel the warmth of your skin.
"'S this mine?" he asks. You give him a quirking smile.
"You know it is," you say, with playful challenge.
Dean accepts that with a hum and leans in for a kiss as payment.
Sometimes that one stolen kiss leads to another, simmering with heat. And he’ll take great pleasure in taking back his shirt, casting it to the floor and rolling you underneath him on the bed.
But it doesn't stop at his undershirts. You steal his plaid ones if you want something to comfortably drown in when you're doing research, or just lounging in the bunker. The material is soft from several hundred washes. (The red and black one is one of your favorites.)
Rare though it is for him to wear hoodies, it's rarer still, because Dean can never even find one in his side of the dresser.
That's because you're keeping it hostage on your side, buried under your lingerie. (Even if he tried to find the hoodie, odds are he’ll get distracted.)
It gets to the point where he can hardly find anything of his.
His brows furrow as he rucks through his drawers for something clean to wear, while clad in only his most threadbare sweatpants.
"Damn it, woman. Where are my shirts?" he grouses.
You bite your lip and pretend to keep reading your book. You're already safe in bed, covered up to your chest by the blankets.
"I don't know. Have you done your laundry?" you ask, smiling to yourself. Dean catches you, with a suspicious brow raise.
He climbs into bed and snatches the covers away from you. You yelp at the suddenness and try to grab at them, but it's too late.
He discovers that you're wearing one of his newer shirts, which he had to buy to replace the ones he just can't seem to find.
"Are you kidding me? This is Theft in the First goddamn Degree!" he exclaims, even though he's close to laughing at the way you're already giggling. He manages to pin you underneath him on the bed, and he has half a mind to take this shirt back as well, by whatever means necessary.
And yes, tickling is one of those means.
"Sweetheart, for the love of God. Why do you keep taking my shit?" he asks, in a way that's half-serious in his frustration, but also half-teasing.
You shrug shamelessly, still smiling. You run your hands up his bare arms and shoulders, and back down his chest.
"I don't know. It's comfortable," you say. But your eyes lower as your face begins to warm with a blush. "Makes me feel safe...like you're always with me."
At that, the tension in Dean's shoulders eases. His smile can't help but soften around the edges as he looks down on you, now with fondness. After a while, he lets out a deep sigh.
"All right," he says.
You grin, because you know he's given up. You lean up for a kiss that successfully distracts him.
Dean still gets annoyed sometimes when he can't find a specific item of clothing in his drawer, but now, all he has to do is go over to your side of the dresser.
There he knows he'll eventually find what he's looking for.
Beau Arlen
Heh, in this episode of “Whose Hat is it Anyway”...
Beau's wardrobe reminds you of a cowboy in modern times.
Lots of browns and beiges, lots of slacks and buttoned-down shirts tucked in with an army of belts to choose from (even though the man only owns a few pairs of boots). Not to mention a slew of jackets that often pull the look together.
But being that he's new to Montana (specifically, Montana winters), you like to buy him sweaters. Cable-knits and soft ones in earth tones that you think bring out his eyes.
Beau accepts whatever you get him and graciously wears them. He trusts your judgment on what looks good on him, and he appreciates the way you think of him.
It's just one of those ways, however small, that you show that you care and that you're looking out for him.
One night while he's working late, however, you find yourself trying to reorganize the closet. The man is "organized chaos" at best, and you find one of his sweaters on the floor. It's a nice burgundy one that you bought him recently.
Ooh, so soft, you think, while feeling the fabric between your fingers.
You don't know what possesses you, but you decide to slip out of your pajamas and try it on yourself.
SO damn soft, you realize, as you practically drown in the sweater. It hangs about to mid-thigh.
Then you see one of his beige Stetsons hanging on the wall. A sneaking smile curves your lips, before you slip on his hat.
To complete the ensemble, you dig into the recesses of your closet and find a pair of your old cowboy boots. You go out into the bedroom and check yourself out in the mirror with a growing smirk.
"Hey there, darlin'," you try to impersonate your boyfriend's subtle Texan twang, and even his mannerisms by winking at yourself, tipping the hat forward.
You giggle at your own silliness in this moment, but alone in your own house, who freakin' cares? You should feel free to dance naked through the whole damn place if you feel like it.
So you spin on your heel and do a little twirl in your boots.
"Who's the sheriff now, huh?" You mime a pair of guns with your hands and shoot at your reflection. "Psh, psh!"
But that's when you catch sight of one Beau Arlen, leaning against the bedroom doorway with his arms crossed. An amused grin is plastered to his face.
You freeze in shock, still with your "gun hands" held up.
"Oh, don't stop the show on my account," Beau says slyly. He gestures at you. "Please, continue."
Your hot blush spreads from your cheeks and quickly begins to travel down your neck. "Uh...I was just...you know, cleaning the closet. You're very messy, you know!"
Beau snorts and draws closer. Those green eyes of his take in the full sight of you, down your bare thighs and cowboy boots, and back up to your embarrassed face. You bite your bottom lip on reflex.
"You know, I like what you got goin' on here," he says, waving a hand down your form. "But it's just...it's missing something."
He takes his badge with the gold star off his belt and pins it to your sweater.
"There you go. Perfect fit," he says, even as his hand slides up the slope of your back. You find yourself pulled further into his orbit as you try (and fail) to stamp down a smile.
"You're late, you know," you remind him. Beau bows his head and presses a kiss into your neck. You feel his smirk there.
"I'm sorry, Sheriff. Gonna arrest me, or let me off with a warning?" he teases. His other hand comes up to adjust the hat on your head. You smirk and cling to his arms over his dark brown jacket. It's one of his nicer ones.
"I think I can let you off," you play along. You lean up to skim your lips across his cheek, and closer to his ear. "But only for good behavior."
He has to chuckle then. "I can accept those terms..."
Beau's hands slip under your stolen sweater and begin to slide it up your body, inch by inch.
"Though I'm gonna need you to keep the boots on," he says lowly, just before he claims you with a searing kiss.
Soldier Boy (Ben)
Oh, here we go. 😅
As with most things, it's a point of pride for Ben.
He'd prefer you be too fucked out to move, let alone put on clothes after he's finished with you.
On the rare occasion that your body doesn't feel too much like warm molasses after a few hot rounds with your boyfriend, you like to at least grab one of his discarded shirts to cover yourself.
If he still has energy, he'll take that as a challenge. He'll try to slip his hands underneath whatever shirt you've found and divest you of it, so he can start devouring you again.
However. Ben does like seeing you in his clothes, in a possessive, claiming way.
There are days when you just want to be swallowed up in one of his large, comfortable shirts as you lounge about the house.
Ben sometimes watches you putter around, cleaning, working, cooking, reading, or watching TV in nothing but his clothes. He wonders if you're even wearing panties. You could be bare faced with a severe case of bed head, but his eyes will still occasionally follow you.
His expression doesn't reveal too much, but he likes it. (And because you know him, you know it too.)
Maybe he'll catch you as you pass by, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You startle with a yelp, but then you grab onto his arms and smile.
"Can I help you, sir?" you tease.
"Think you can just walk by me, looking sexy as fuck?" he remarks. He steals a slow, thorough kiss. You cup his face and bring him back in for more, tenderly stroking his cheek.
"You know why I like wearing your stuff?" you ask. Your smile hints at teasing.
Ben arches a brow. "Why?"
"Because it keeps you looking," you reply. And you reach a hand around to slap his ass, for good measure.
Then you saunter away from him to get back to what you were doing.
Or at least, you try to.
Ben grabs your hand and pulls you back towards him, back into the cage of his arms, where he falls back into the trap you've so often laid. And he finishes what you started.
AN: Well, then. 😂 I hope you guys enjoy this! Who had your favorite reaction: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 😘
Dean Winchester Imagines
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Dean, Beau + Soldier Boy Tag List (Part 1)
@melancholictearz @spnwoman @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions
@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @rizlowwritessortof @anticxrrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky
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@xxlaynaxx @beskarfilms @tmb510 @iamsapphine @roseblue373
@lacilou @jackles010378 @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse
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Feelings Thawed
Character; Cater Diamond
Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, pining, ice skating (to various degrees of success)
Word Count; 650+
Author's Note; This is a present/thank you to my mutual @i-like-forgs. I hope you enjoy this ice skating scene with Cater, and that you get to skate soon!
As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist
The brisk wind bit at your nose, and you pulled up your scarf, trying to keep away the offending wind. Around you it was a winter wonderland, all made possible in the temperate conditions thanks to Cater, who was filming you skating around on the frozen pond’s surface.
“You know,” you hollered, making sure that you caught his attention, “you should join me! It’s fun!” You came to a stop by the pond’s edge, where Cater was standing with a large thermos.
Cater just shot you a wink, handing you the thermos. “This is for you though, silly!”
He was deflecting, you could tell; behind that bright and cheery smile that he always seemed to wear around others, you knew when there was something off with Cater. You accepted the thermos though, and took a sip of the spicy apple cider, still piping hot.
You gave him a look and pulled lightly on his coat sleeve. “Yes, but it’s more fun with others, come on Cater!” You stepped back onto the ice, and slowly skated near him, waiting with an eager smile.
He looked at you, and then back at the ice, but he stayed standing in the light snow, shooting you that smile. “But I can’t take photos if I’m out there with you!” He scratched at the back of his neck.
Liar. “Cater,” you looped back around and stepped onto the bank, balancing on your skates, “do you not know how to skate?”
Cater’s smile turned sheepish, and his ‘ahahaha, looks like my gig is up’ chuckle made its appearance. He had been found out. “Never got the chance to,” he hid his face slightly in his scarf, either to keep the cold at bay or to hide that his cheeks were turning pink. “So I’d just slow ya down.”
You took his hand into yours, “Well, I could teach you if you wanted. Just a warning though, you’re gonna fall on your butt a lot, might get a few bruises.”
Cater looked down at your entwined hands. Mittens and gloves separated your skin from touching one another, but Cater could swear that he could feel the sensation nonetheless through the layers of fabric.
“You would? Even if I pull you down with me?”
The last question wasn’t just about the ice skating; Cater didn’t want to force you to do anything that you didn’t want to… and that included being his friend. His heart seemed to whisper stronger emotions though, but he didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had.
You walked him out to the ice, and the both of you swiftly fell down on the ice, hard. But you just laughed and got right back up again, “Well, we did just fall. There isn’t anything scary about falling down; yes it stings and might leave a gnarly bruise, but in order to move forward we have to fall and get back up. So yes, is what I guess I’m saying.”
Cater looked up at you, the sun illuminating you and the snow glittered behind you. You were holding your hand out again, waiting for him. And Cater took your hand.
It took him a while to get the hang of it, and he fell down quite a bit, but every time he fell down you helped him back up. And by the time that the sun was setting in the west, the both of you were cold, and both were going to wake up tomorrow with some bruises. It was fun though, which is all that mattered… but that whisper in Cater’s heart was by now singing, and maybe he would listen to it, but for now, he was happy with how the way things were, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, especially with how much you had smiled today. Your smile and knowing that you had fun with him was enough.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Tags; @eynnwwyjth, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @silvers-numberonefan, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii
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