When You Know - Masterlist

Bryce and Elijah: Please Dr Ramsey we really need you in the game!

Ethan: No. Just leave, nothing you can say will make me change my mind.

MC: Ethan could you plea-

Ethan:

*A ch 8 recap inspired by @choicesolivia 😂👏

So pretty 😍

Patron Saint of dive bars and drifters

66 of the most memorable tracks from Supernatural

+ LISTEN  [part 1] - [part 2] - [part 3]

Five Years Since You Left Boston

Synopsis: It’s been six years since Charlotte Greene finished her residency, five years since she left Ethan, and four years since she called him the night of her wedding and asked him to stop her. Ethan thought he was protecting her when he let her go, but a chance encounter might just tempt fate in their direction…

FOLLOW-UP TO “Ethan & F!MC (Charlie) - Calling to Say I’m Marrying Someone Else HC”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlie Greene)

Rating: Teen (nothing happens to warrant a high rating, but I just want to be safe)

Words: 4.7k

Suggested Listening: Molly by Lil Dicky, Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift, Happiness by Taylor Swift, Coney Island by Taylor Swift (I’m on a Evermore kick. Do not judge)

Ethan thought he saw Charlie that morning.

It was just a glimpse – a flash of blonde hair and a hint of laughter wandering through the hospital halls. It couldn’t be her, of course. She hadn’t stepped foot in Boston in five years.

Or maybe she had.

Maybe she walked these hallowed streets every single day, a lingering ghost forever out of sight.

Maybe this city welcomed its open arms in secret. Maybe the specter of their relationship left her untouched. Maybe she could travel all the paths she’d traveled with him without even an inkling of hurt.

Perhaps she visited and never even had the urge to find him, not that Ethan could say the same. But Charlie, his darling Rookie, had always been stronger than him.

She was the one who dared to demand more of him. She was courageous enough to wage war, one they both lost. Then, when Ethan held on to the frayed and damaged hope of a spectacular reunion, she was strong enough to leave. She left Boston, Edenbrook, and even Ethan. She made a new life for herself, and when Ethan couldn’t fathom the thought of another, she was brave enough to fall in love again.

She had one moment of weakness.

One shining opportunity for two star-crossed lovers to finally make it right.

That night, Ethan was strong for her.

His reward was aching regret and a lifetime of “what ifs?” He faltered nearly every day in that first year. He bought at least a dozen flights to California, but he never boarded a plane. Every time he looked at her wedding picture – the one he printed to remind himself of what he would ruin if he found her.

She was married now.

She had been for about four years.

Ethan heard that they had a child, too.

He had no real claim to her anymore, but he could never feel any less “hers.” Despite a string of half-hearted attempts, he could never belong to anyone else.

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made this meme for him

Just Like This

Summary: Working a second job in a bar to help pay for Sammy’s education, Dean finds a kindred spirit in bar manager Y/N. When a drunk Douchebag gets too handsy with her, Dean quickly jumps to her defence but faces harsh consequences.

Pairing: Bartender!Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Rating: Teen

Bingo Square: Getting Fired for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: sexual assault (groping), fluff, angst, fighting, minor violence, Chuck is a complete and utter asshole in this, getting fired, quitting in solidarity, first kiss, friends to lovers

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Okay, it feels like an age since I’ve written anything that’s just pure floof. I hope you enjoy this fluffy, protective, besotted Dean fic. Please be kind. I’ve had my angst hat on for a long time, and though this was really refreshing, it’s also a little daunting!

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a comment. It really does fuel a creative’s muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

It wasn’t the best job in the world, but as part-time work went, Dean knew it could be a hell of a lot worse than this. He worked with his dad in the garage during the day and worked four nights a week and two shifts at the weekend in Shurley’s Sports Bar. His wages and tips went to his dad to help pay for Sammy’s education. Sure, the kid had a full ride to Stanford; however, he still needed to pay for accommodation after freshman year and the thousands of books he needed for his coursework. And at least this way, his dad didn’t put himself in an early grave by working all the hours God gave him. Lord knows he’d done enough of that when they were kids.

Shurley’s was a decent bar. It had a prime location between the University of Kansas campus and downtown, so it always has a steady stream of customers. It quietened during the summer when the students went home or on their travels, but the locals still made trade steady enough. The owner, Chuck, was a bit of a dick, but he barely showed his face around the place, and the other staff were decent, making it a great place to work.

“Hey, Dean,” Y/N said as she came out of the back office. Y/N was the bar manager and a great girl. They had a lot in common; both lost their mothers when they were young and looked after their younger siblings while their fathers worked three jobs to try and make ends meet. Y/N’d had to drop out of college when her father took unexpectedly sick, having to take care of him and her little sister. Now that her father had passed and her sister had a full ride to another prestigious college, Harvard, Y/N lived in the tiny apartment above the bakery where she worked four days a week and in the bar four nights a week and every Saturday night. The rest of the time, she studied part-time to finish her college education and sent every spare cent she had to her sister in Boston.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled at her. She was pretty, too, and Dean wasn’t afraid to admit that he had a massive crush on her. Not that anything would ever happen because she was her, and he was… well, he wasn’t good enough for a girl like that. “How are ya, sweetheart?”

“I’m good, Dean. How are you? Oh! Did you manage to get Sam’s apartment sorted?” Y/N asked, and he smiled that she’d remember such a thing.

“Yeah, it’s all good now. We managed to get the rest of the deposit together,” Dean said. “Thanks for the extra shifts, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” Y/N smiled. “I still can’t believe landlords can actually do that,” Y/N shook her head as she headed behind the bar and started filling the refrigerators with bottles of beer and wine to prepare for the busy Friday night shift.

“Yeah, us either. But it’s done, and he has somewhere to live,” Dean said as he put the last menus and condiment buckets on the tables. “What needs to be done next, boss?” he asked, smirking when Y/N chuckled. She hated being called that, but he seemed to be the only one she didn’t scold for it.

“I could use a hand changing over the barrels if you’ve got time?” she said, breaking up the cardboard that the bottles had been housed in.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Dean headed into the storeroom and started shifting the beer barrels behind the bar as Y/N continued putting bottles in the fridges and replacing the almost empty spirit bottles with full ones to accommodate the busiest night of the year: Friday night football and Freshers Week.

The bar was packed with customers, the warm, sunny weather drawing even more of them in than usual, and of course, Chuck had decided tonight was a good night to show face and ‘help’, putting the staff on edge. Dean had gone with the head down and get on with it attitude, glad it was three deep at the bar so he had an excuse not to have to entertain Chuck for very long.

Y/N had been running around after Chuck all night, finding this paperwork and that invoice and the employee payroll for the past six weeks. Eventually, when he couldn’t possibly ask for anything more, she’d escaped the office, having brazenly told her boss that she was needed front of house to help serve customers.

“I swear,” she’d said as she tied her little black server’s apron around her waist, “It’s like he fucking knew tonight would be the busiest night but still came to check months old paperwork! God, that man is insufferable!”

It wasn’t often that Y/N showed her annoyance, and Dean couldn’t help but think it was cute. Though, admittedly, that could be his crush talking, her furrowed brow and tiny pout were adorable.

“What can I do to help?” he asked as she took her place behind the bar.

“I should be asking you that question!” she giggled. “What do you need me to do?”

“We could do with someone collecting and cleaning the empty glasses, if you wouldn’t mind?” he responded, smiling as she picked up a basket, cleaning spray, and a cloth before he’d finished his sentence.

“You got it,” she winked and headed onto the floor to clear and wipe the tables down. And that, Dean thought, is what makes a good boss. Someone who works with the team to achieve the same goal. Someone who isn’t afraid of stepping in to help by doing the most mundane tasks that are below their pay grade.

Y/N was a breath of fresh air for him in so many ways. She was bubbly and caring, and no matter what was thrown her way, she responded with an air of calmness and dignity that he admired.

“Hey, man. What can I get ya?” Dean asked the next patron, finally taking his eyes off the girl slowly taking over his every thought.

“Be careful,” Dean said as Y/N headed back onto the floor to clear more glasses and tables. “It’s getting rowdy out there. You know what those college boys can be like.”

“Thanks, Dean,” she smiled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He knew she would be. He’d seen her handling every kind of drunk customer. Still, he’d watch her closely because he was more worried than usual. The crowd tonight seemed even more enthused thanks to the local sports team playing. It still surprised him how often the female staff got touched inappropriately and had the most vulgar things said to them by too drunk and far too confident men. More than once Dean had had to step in and stop something from going too far, and he’d do it as many times as he needed to for Y/N or any of the other female staff.

Y/N managed to get around most of the bar unscathed, but there was a particularly boisterous table of men who only frequented the bar when the Chiefs played. Dean had been watching them all night because they seemed to have forgotten their age and tried to out-drink their much younger counterparts. They’d already run their mouths off to the bar staff, and now one of them in particular had their beady eye on Y/N as she moved from table to table, collecting empty glasses and bottles.

Swapping her tray out for an empty one, Y/N made her way over to their table, and the second she got close enough, the balding guy with the beady eye was quick to rear his hand back and smack her ass. Dean’s hackles rose, and he was on high alert as he watched her give the douchebag a piece of her mind. But he didn’t stop. Douchebag wrapped his arms around her waist and tried pulling her onto his lap. All the while, his douchebag little friends laughed and cheered him on like he’d won a fucking prize.

Dean saw red as he ran around the bar and strode purposely over to the group of middle-aged men amid a mid-life crisis and pulled Y/N from his hold, dragging her behind him to protect her.

“The lady told you to leave her alone. I suggest you do that,” Dean fumed, only getting angrier at Douchebag’s smirk.

“Oh, ladies and gentlemen, we have a jealous boyfriend trying to protect his girl! You know, if she were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t let her out the house wearing something so…” he paused as he leered up and down Y/N’s body, “revealing.”

“Listen, asshole, you don’t want to piss me off right now. Why don’t you and your buddies call it a night and go home? You’ve clearly had too much to drink, and we don’t take kindly to people assaulting our staff here,” Dean’s jaw was clenched, but he’d somehow managed to keep his voice steady.

“Sorry, man,” Douchebag smirked as he stood. “Just can’t help myself when I see a pretty girl showing off half her body like a Goddamn little tease. She’s asking for it, really.”

That was the last straw, and as Douchebag made one final (and unfortunately successful) attempt to get his hands on Y/N, Dean pulled his fist back and punched him square on the nose. The resounding crack as Dean broke the guy’s nose was satisfying, as were the synchronised grimacing ‘oohs’ that the audience this little corner of the bar had attracted.

“You broke my nose, asshole!” Douchebag spluttered. “I’m reporting you for assault!”

“You do that,” Y/N said, “and I’ll have you arrested, too. This whole bar and the CCTV saw you grope me twice and clearly saw me trying to get you off me! What he did,” she pointed at Dean, “was save me from being sexually assaulted!”

“Come on, man,” one of Douchebag’s friends said, patting him on the back. “Let’s get you to the hospital. It’s not worth it.”

“Damn straight it’s not!” Dean yelled. “Any way you spin this, he doesn’t win, so get the hell out and don’t come back!”

Tail between their legs, Douchebag and his friends left the bar. The second the door shut behind them, Dean was next to Y/N, checking her for injuries.

“I’m fine, Dean,” she insisted, but her eyes told a different story. The encounter had shaken her up, and Dean wanted to fix it, needed to fix it.

“No, sweetheart, you’re not. You’re–” Dean began but was interrupted by the shrill voice of Chuck.

“Winchester, my office, now! You too, Y/N.”

Seeing Y/N sitting beside him on the other side of the desk was strange. This was where she did all the paperwork, payroll, ordering, and invoicing, so to see Chuck on her chair was disconcerting. And not good.

“I don’t know what was going on out there–” Chuck began, and Dean scoffed in disbelief.

“You’re bar manager was sexually assaulted by a customer. That’s what happened!” Dean sat forward on his chair, raising his voice. He only calmed when Y/N placed her hand on his forearm.

Chuck pursed his lips at his outburst and continued speaking as if Dean hadn’t interrupted.

“I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, sexual assault or not,” Chuck looked pointedly at Y/N before he continued. “It’s no excuse for my staff to behave violently.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Dean fumed. “That… scumbag… touched her ass and her breasts and tried to force her into his lap! You see those bruises, right?” he asked as he pointed to the dark purple fingerprint marks on her arms.

“Inappropriate comments, slurs, even touching, is to be expected when you work in a bar–” Chuck was interrupted again, this time by Y/N.

“There are no touching policies in every strip club in the country for a reason, Chuck! You cannot expect it to be any different in a fratboy sports bar! No one should go to work expecting that being sexually assaulted is okay!”

“For God’s sake, Y/N! So what a guy touched your ass and tits! You should be flattered!”

“It was sexual assault, Chuck! That guy,” Y/N pointed behind her in the general direction of the bar, “touched me without permission, and I could have him charged! You too with how you’re behaving!”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic! I feel sorry for your boyfriend if this is how prudish you are!”

“Hey, that is–” Dean interjected, but Chuck kept talking.

“Dean, you’re fired. I cannot, and will not, allow a violent brute to work in my bar.”

“You can’t do that!” Y/N protested.

“Watch it, or you’ll be gone, too!” Chuck threatened, but Dean knew it was an empty one with her. He needed her too much. The bar would burn to the ground without her in charge.

“No need. I quit. Effective immediately. I cannot, and will not,” Y/N glared at Chuck as she repeated his words to him, “work in a place where I’m expected to be sexually harassed and assaulted and ignore it. I cannot, and will not, work for a man who fires a good person for helping someone in need.”

Standing, Y/N took off her apron and name tag and threw them on the desk. She unhooked the keys from her belt and pulled the cash box towards her, opening it and pulling out two brown envelopes, handing one to Dean and putting the other in her pocket. Once she’d locked the cash box, she tossed her keys down on the cheap metal desk with a satisfying clang.

“Really? You’re going to quit over him?” Chuck scoffed.

“Yes. Dean is worth a thousand shitty bar jobs like this one, and I’d choose him over any of them in a heartbeat,” Y/N said with her head held high. “I hope you know you’ve just lost your two best workers on the busiest night of the year. Come on, Dean. Let’s get out of this shithole.”

Dean didn’t protest. He stood up, smirked at Chuck because he just couldn’t help himself, and followed Y/N out of the bar and onto the street.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t need to do that. I’m a big boy, and I can look after myself,” Dean said after walking in silence for a few minutes.

“I know you can, and yes, I did. That was unfair and undeserved. Especially because it was my fault,” Y/N responded.

“Hey, don’t ever… it wasn’t your fault. Things like that are never the woman’s fault, you know that, right?” Dean couldn’t believe she’d ever think something like that would be her own doing.

“I know, but if I’d listened to you and let Marcus clear tables instead of me, none of this would’ve happened.”

“No. I won’t hear it. You didn’t ask to be groped by a balding douchebag going through a mid-life crisis, sweetheart. Don’t ever apologise for someone else’s wrongdoing,” he reassured her.

“So, what do we do now? We both kinda needed that job,” Y/N chuckled, but it held no humour.

“Well, I might know a guy who owns a wine bar downtown. A classy establishment, so the tips are better. And we’d be treated right,” Dean said, thinking of the bar Cas had tried to get him to work in for months.

“You have a buddy with a bar, and you chose to stay working in that shithole?” Y/N asked in disbelief. “Why? What would possess you to stay there? Willingly?”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Dean smirked. This wasn’t where he envisioned this conversation going–if it ever happened at all, that is–but the perfect opportunity had presented itself and he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t take it. “I got to see you almost every day.”

“Come on! You did not stay there for me!” Y/N scoffed, and Dean shrugged his shoulders, his lips tugging upwards in a shy smile.

“I did, actually. Can’t think of anyone better to spend so much time with.”

“Dean Winchester,” she grinned. “Are you flirting with me?” The teasing tone in her words was one he’d never heard before, and he liked it.

“Do you want me to be flirting with you?” he’d asked, needing to hear her say it before he did something stupid because he’d misread the signals.

“Yeah… I think I do,” Y/N giggled, stepping closer to him, bumping their arms together as they stepped in sync down the sidewalk.

“Yeah?” he asked, checking again because, quite frankly, she was her and he was him.

“Yeah.”

Dean stopped walking and gently grabbed her forearm to stop her from walking ahead. Feeling brave, Dean placed his hands on her cheeks and dipped his head, slowly lowering his lips to hers. Every inch closer he got, he switched his gaze between her lips and her eyes, making sure this was what she wanted.

When there was no hesitation and nowhere else to go, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers. They were as soft as they always looked, softer even, and tasted as sweet as he’d imagined they would.

Y/N pressed herself closer to him with a low hum and slid her arms up his chest, resting one hand on his pec and the other curling around his neck. Dean licked her bottom lip, encouraging her to open her mouth and let him deepen their kiss.

He failed to hold back a groan when his tongue met hers, the feeling so much better than anything his mind could’ve conjured up. Dean couldn’t remember how long he’d wanted this, and now that it was happening, he knew he’d do whatever he could to keep her in his arms, just like this.

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

between heaven and hell [dean winchester]

pairing; dean winchester x reader other tags; slightly described reader just hair length being a few inches, slight mick with reader, jealous dean, angst, fluff, cursing, mentioning sex but no smut, canon level gore. summary; mick’s bringing you case after case and with no breaks from any of the boys, you and dean have too much tension that isn’t getting resolved.

masterlist

When you walk into the bunker’s library you notice Mick sitting in the middle, a bottle of scotch on the table and a half full glass in his hand. A half full glass of fucking scotch.

“Mr. Davies?” Mick turns to you quickly, head snapping in your direction. He seems alarmed before he sees it’s only you and not one of the boys. They’ve been more than intolerant of him lately.

“Oh. Hello. Not that it isn’t a pleasure to see you, but shouldn’t you be asleep?” You shrug, walking over to him. His eyes follow you too intently and you settle on leaning against the table so you’re a few feet away.

“Couldn’t sleep. What about you? You got us a win today, you should be resting.”

He scoffs, taking a swig of the drink. “We’ve already got three more hunts on alert and not enough hunters to send them to.”

“Has nothin’ to do with you resting,” You shift your weight from the table onto your leg, “‘Sides, we’ll figure it out. Sam and Dean love to hunt. They don’t mind.”

“And you don’t?” His question takes you aback for only a moment. You’re hardly ‘buddy-buddy’ with the Brits but since Mick has been staying in the bunker a few nights every now and then, you’ve more than learned to be kinder to him. Sam seems to have forgiven Mick, why wouldn’t you? 

“No, I do. I just don’t mind a break. The Winchesters on the other hand never know when to catch one. It all works out, don’t worry, but you shouldn’t be drinking this late. Or awake.” 

He rubs a hand over his jaw, shaking his head, then he drowns the rest of his glass in one go and stands up. “Yes. Goodnight.” 

You’re stunned into silence at a— how fucking fast he just finished the drink and b— how rapidly he left the room. 

Well, that conversation seems like it’s done, so you head to the kitchen to make yourself and everyone else some breakfast that you can reheat for when they wake up. 

“Sweetheart, you are an angel.” Dean moans through a mouthful of the sandwich just as you make your way into the kitchen. You’d managed to get an hour of sleep at the end to wake up at ten and see the Winchesters comfortable with coffees and the breakfast you’d put in the oven for them to reheat.

“Thanks, Dee. You like it?” You ask Sam and he nods, throwing you a grateful smile. Coffee’s smell is too hot and warming not to pour yourself a cup and you enjoy it on the counter (as you do most days ‘cause God forbid you sit on a chair). 

“When’d you make this?” Sam asks after he swallows the bite (which is more than you can say for Dean).

“Yesterday. Woke up hungry and I thought you guys would enjoy some breakfast.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know. Where’s Mr. Davies?”

You immediately notice Dean’s scrunched face as he shakes his head and swallows his bite to retort; “Mick?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” He groans, throwing Sam a look before he faces you again.

“‘Cause. He seemed stressed yesterday, thought some breakfast might help him too. I made plenty.” You don’t wait for his response as you talk from behind your cup, mumbling other excuses like and he’s nice or and I’m being a good host.

“You know he’s only here because we’re hunting, right? This isn’t permanent.” Dean’s random statement throws you off. What the hell does that mean?

“Okay… so?”

“So… do you, like,” He shrugs, almost like he’s asking Sam for help but the younger Winchester hastily steps out of the conversation, going back to his phone, “So if you want him to— I don’t know, stick around or whatever, it won’t be here.”

“What does that even mean?”

“He’s asking if you’re sleeping with me.” Davies’s voice rings through your ears and your eyes widen as he walks over to the fridge for juice. Okay… this just got way too weird.

“Right…” you laugh it off. Dean’s face is anything but joking and you stop. “Wait, actually? Dean, what the hell! How is that any of your business— no! No, I’m not sleeping with— oh my God.” You stand up and let out a huff of breath as you walk out of the kitchen. And just for good measures: “Good fucking morning, Mick.”

Dean finds you in your room half an hour after he’s finished breakfast and he knocks on the open door to catch your attention from the laptop you have on your lap.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Don’t fucking ‘sweetheart’ me!” He lets out a small laugh and steps further into the room, closing the door behind him. “You’re so embarrassing, Dean. I’m not Claire, I’m not a twelve year old you get to control.”

“I wasn’t trying to—“

“Yeah well, how do you think Mick took it when he heard you telling me that if we’re sleeping together it won’t be under your roof?”

“I didn’t—“

“You fucking did!” Surprisingly, your voice is steady and not raised past its usual volume. You’re thankful, because you wouldn’t want to prove his point by acting like an actual twelve year old, but you do have the right to be mad that he’d say something like that. Dean sleeps around with so many women it makes everyone’s head spin, but he thinks you’re sleeping with one guy and suddenly it’s time to dish it out at you?

“Look, ‘M sorry, but I didn’t mean it like that. Just that… he’s with them, you know? We’re workin’ with him but we don’t trust him and I don’t wanna see you hurt just ‘cause you do.” You lose your laptop, placing it on the nightstand and Dean takes it as an invitation to sit in its place, a couple of inches away from you on the bed. “You trust too much, you know this.”

You do. In fact, most of your arguments with the boys have been about you trusting a stranger a little more than necessary, or having too much faith in them. You believe in second chances more than both of them combined and it scares them, it’s the reason you started to hunt together in the first place, they knew you were incredible in combat, fantastic at killing whole nests, one after the other, but you just couldn’t quite figure out which one was the werewolf that needed killing.

“Whatever, Dean. Why’re you here?”

“I don’t like you angry.”

“No, you came to tell me to get ready for the hunt.”

He nudged your hips with a smile that forces an identical one onto your face. “That too, but I really don’t want you angry over something like this.” 

“Whatever, Dean.” 

“Yeah,” He stands up, a hand on your shoulder, “So you’ve said. C’mon, get up, let’s go.”

He finds one of the duffels you keep around and throws it onto the bed. It already has a few pieces of clothes incase of emergencies but they’re hardly enough to last two days so you begin to add more clothes and products while he just watches from the corner of the room.

“Dean, you’re really creepy like this.” 

“I haven’t done anything.” 

“Exactly.” You let out an exasperated sigh and press your lips together. He obviously wants to say something but whatever’s  holding him back doesn’t concern you. You just want to get this hunt over with. You’ve been going at it non stop for weeks and you could use a break sometime soon (not likely).

“Why’re you so nice to Mick?” He avoids eye contact as you narrow your eyes at him, trying to look for the body language you usually notice when he’s kidding— because what kind of question is that?

“He’s helping us help people. I’d be stupid to not be nice to him. ‘Sides, he’s not hard on the eyes or anything.” That’s when you notice the tick of jaw then he shakes his head and finally holds his focus with his beautiful forest green eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Dean,” you start quietly, for some reason you’re both closer to each other, not sure who’s moving to who. “What’s this about?”

“‘Cause I know that stuff is bad right now and we,” he takes a drop breath, “we don’t talk those days but it’s just because there’s a lot of hunts. And I know we don’t talk since the whole darkness drama but then Lucifer happened then the Nephilim— and it’s been fucking exhausting.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But you know I’m here—”

“Dean, no offense, or anything, but we’ve never talked about my feelings together.” He frowns. “Like ever.” You usually reserve those talks for someone who will listen without getting uncomfortable. Your friend from your hometown who you see once every two years, most of the time it’s Sam. Anyone who isn’t Dean Winchester; Mister No-Chick-Flick-Moments.

“Right. I meant generally. Come out when you’re done. We’re all ready.” He lets out in a deeper voice, slamming the door behind him.

You didn’t mean to… hurt him, if that’s what this was, but it was the truth. Besides, Dean would rather hang himself than talk feelings so you’re honestly doing him a favor.

Packing takes less than ten minutes, showering even less. Then you style your hair while keeping your phone nearby in case one of the boys texted you to come out quickly. Contrary to popular belief, hunting isn’t an all time-consuming activity. It leaves time to get your hair done (though you’d ruin it if you ran into a hunt), and to buy chic clothes. 

It’s only those who don’t take time between hunts that will tell you they hardly have time to shower— but you’ve never really been into that, you’ve always limited yourself to one hunt a week, if it takes longer you can compensate in the upcoming weeks, but you don’t let it interfere with your outside life. Then you meet the Winchesters, who can’t take a break to save their lives, and you now understand those people’s point, but you would usually just ignore the unnecessary hunts they took between crises. 

Your phone pinged so you throw the brush into the sink and pick it up to see Sam’s text;

Where are you?

Coming.

You decide to put it in a half up-half down hair do for the time being, until you face danger and have to hide the locks into a bun under your hoodie. 

When you walk out with your duffel Sam takes it from you and you get into the backseat with Mick, throwing him a tight smile which he returns with a full one. He seems like a genuine person but Dean’s outburst took you back enough to keep it short with all three men while stuffing the headphones into your ears and blasting The Rubens while Dean speeds through the five hour drive.

“Are you alright, love?” That’s the first time Mick has ever called you anything but your name and you try to hide the growing blush on your cheeks, nodding. He raises an eyebrow making you take off the ear pieces you had in.

“‘M fine. Just wanna get this over with.” You don’t glance at the driver’s seat where you know Dean is glaring at you. Or in the rear view mirror, just try to lower your voice enough that it doesn’t bother him or Sam who’s napping.

“Why didn’t you stay behind? This seems fairly simple.”

“Don’t wanna leave the guys alone in case they need backup.” The slip up doesn’t seem to bother Mick and he affirms your words with a smile. In all fairness, he is a pretty shit hunter. When it came down to it, you were the one saving the Winchesters asses, not him. 

“That’s fair, but if you need to rest we could have a day at the motel then look at the case?” It’s sweet, really. The sentiment makes your heart flutter. But both men would soon rather end themselves than spend unnecessary time and money in a motel with Mick, since you get that, you just shake your head at him.

“‘S fine, Mick. Thanks.” He has a stupid little grin on his face and you crack a smile, tilting your head curiously.

“What?”

“You don’t call me that often, it’s mostly Mr. Davies.” You let out a nervous laugh, your fingers absentmindedly running to your chest to find the silver diamond of your necklace that you so often play with.

“Yeah, sorry, just— that’s how you introduced yourself and that’s what they call you—”

“It’s endearing.” He seems too okay with himself. Cocky, maybe? It didn’t help your breathing or wandering eyes that were suddenly on Dean. If he was looking at you through the mirror, you wouldn’t know, but he’d tell you were staring at him.

“Alright, gas break.” He interrupts loudly, surprising Sam out of his seat. Sam rubs his eyes groggily after smacking Dean’s shoulder then leaves the car for snacks when they park. Mick goes to the bathroom and you stretch your legs as Dean fills Baby up

“You okay?” His tone’s still as gravelly as it was back in the bunker but there’s less emotion in it now, much less care. “The Brit givin’ you trouble?”

“Dean, you’re acting like my dad again.” He scoffs, those creases at his forehead making their presence known again. 

“Y’know, this is getting real frustrating.”

“What is?”

“You. Actin’ like I’m trying to ‘control’ you or whatever— so I can’t just be a good friend? You wanna be on your own so bad why’d you even come hunt with us?” He’s asking why I stayed with them for the past four years. Jesus.

“Dean, ‘m saying this because I want you to tell me why you do this. I’m just guessing reasons—” 

He lets out a huff. “Really shitty guesses, sweetheart.”

“Then tell me why. Why’d go into Claire and Alex mode when you thought me and Mick were sleeping together— which is a ridiculous assumption by the way.”

“Is it?” He shuts the fuel cap with a bang and takes out his credit card. “‘Cause you were getting real flirty in my backseat.”

“You’re back— Dean, how do you not see that this is like an adult lecturing their child?”

“Because it isn’t! You’re so fucking difficult.” It’s your turn to scoff, deciding to walk away. Sam seems like he might good company at the moment. 

You find him in the beverages section and he immediately gives you a look as you walk at him fuming, it’s pretty comical, might as well have steam leaving your ears. 

“Don’t.” You quickly shut down any amusing comments he wanted to throw your way.

“You—“

“Sam, so help me God, if you ask me if I’m okay I will strangle you.” The threat itself is futile, but it helps release some of your anger and gives him a small idea of what’s happening. 

“Dean get mad at you again?”

“Why does he act like he’s my dad? You didn’t do all that when me and Mick were nice to each other. And it isn’t like I’m making out with the guy, we’re just not glaring at the other’s head off like you guys do with him.”

“Dean’s just being Dean. Y’know how he is. Mum worked with them and it made him angry, he just doesn’t want you to choose them or something.” That’s the stupidest freakin’ reason you’ve ever heard because why would you choose some random man in place of the two people who have been with you through it all. 

While the drama with the Winchesters could make for a neat reality TV show, that didn’t mean you didn’t contribute to it yourself. Like when your dad started hunting them down after learning that they’d refused to close the gates of hell forever, or when they released God’s sister, though that part he thought was a joke until she came knocking on his door. Long story including Amara being desperate for Dean’s affection.

All three of your best friends died within the span of a year and it broke you so completely that you ended up staying in the bunker for a month without hunting or socializing. They’d been with you through all of this despite all your very low downs. Thinking you’d give all that up for a lay is insulting on Dean’s part.

“That isn’t nice, Sam.” You voice your concerns, walking behind him as he adds more packages into the cart, and you sneak some of your favorites into there as well. “It’s insulting actually. I’ve been there for you, all the time.”

“You gotta look at it from his point. He doesn’t want to think like this but that’s how Dean is. Just… be there for him, okay?” You take a deep breath, nodding. To be fair, you had been selfish this whole time. It’s how you always were, despite believing that people are good it doesn’t stop you from being a little self-absorbed at times, especially when it comes to Dean. It has more to do with the fact that you try to be so perfect for him, to be the best you possible for him.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to him at the motel.”

“That’s good. Take these back now,” you frown as he hands you your snacks back, “You haven’t eaten a proper meal in a week, if we get you snacks you won’t eat for a month.” 

Fair. But annoying.

“Three rooms, thank you.”

The receptionist hands him three key cards and Dean steps closer to him, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Dean.”

“Three?”

He nods, handing you one and Dean the other. You. You get your own room. You get your own room? Since when do you get your own room? 

“Mick, I don't usually—”

“Well, we're not sure how long we're staying here and I've noticed that they don't have rooms with more than two beds so it would be uncomfortable for one of the three of you. And I wouldn't want to intrude.” He says the last line with a smile in your direction and your heart flutters. Not so much at him but more at the gesture. It's sweet. 

“Thank you.”

“No problem, yours is right next to Dean and Sam's anyways, so no need to fret.” He directs the reassurance to Dean this time, who still seems on edge. One nice thing. Mick does one nice thing and now Dean is acting like an asshole. All the past times you've stayed at motels he'd kept you in the same room as the boys and you'd been forced to let one of them sleep on the couch or you take shifts researching. Now you all get to sleep at night. How is this not a good thing?

As you walk to your rooms you move past Sam and to Dean's side, keeping up with his pace. “Y’know, this is a good thing. And I'm right next door. Why're you mad?”

“‘Cause, that fuckin’ asshole could've said so first.” That hardly seems like a good reason.

“Okay. Yeah,” You decide, for once in your life, to make this easier. “Do you want me to change and then meet up in your room?” He nods and you slowly slip your arm through his. 

He'd never been particularly touchy, but he's never outright hated it either, so you kept it for those special occasions where you wanted to be close to him as to not overdo it. Dean's never pushed you off either. Never. 

Taking it just a step further, you nestle closer and he puts his arm in the pockets of his pants so yours doesn't fall out; as if telling you that this is okay.

Sam told you to get your FBI outfit ready and on since you'll be heading for the morgue. All four of you. Four FBIs. That's not suspicious at all, why would it be? Usually, Dean would let you and Sam do it— or the other way around, but you hardly went as a group. 

It grabbed too much attention. But it seems the men are all for grabbing attention today because Dean is flirting with the doctor shamelessly (he got her number), Mick is all but sniffing the damn guy and Sam's standing way too close to you. 

“Okay!” You shout in hushed whispers. “Stop it! All three of you. Are you fucking insane? Stop acting like a creep,” You point at Mick. “And you! Stop thinking with your dick.

“And Sam, I swear to God, if you don't step away from my bubble I will fucking pop you like one.” All three of them look at you confused and slightly alarmed, but decide to listen. Sam backs up and steals Dean's phone to stop the distraction. Mick stands next to them (a respectable distance away from the dead guy). 

“Okay, so, hearts clearly ripped out.” You mention, flipping through the file, thankful that you're all back in the game.

“Yeah,” Sam clears his throat awkwardly before shuffling closer to the body, “Liver too.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow. “What, he was extra hungry?” Then laughs at his own joke as he paces around the room.

You get to the description of the guy's injuries and immediately freeze in your spot. What the fuck?

“Hey, you okay?” Dean stops pacing to ask, his eyes attentively on you.

“Yes. Yeah. Sam, take a look.” He can explain it heaps better than you can even try. He walks next to you but when he has the file he takes a few steps back. 

“What the... His—”

“His... anus.”

“Yeah... that's. It's... oh my god.” You almost want to throw up just thinking about it, let alone see it. 

“What?” Mick questions. 

“His thing is like— demolished, is the word they used.”

Dean snorts back a laugh. “Demolished? His rear? This is getting creepy, man.”

“Tell me about it,” You sigh. “This is so not a werewolf. What kind of werewolf takes livers, hearts and destroys... backsides, then lets the guy go. That's— okay that's like some kink or something.”

“I don't even—” Sam starts but shivers before he can even think of the rest of his sentence. Okay you’re so done talking about it. “Let's see the other one. Should be the same.” They check the file and it is, both of them college students, different universities, different majors, but both with the same injuries. Blood drained. Heart and liver taken. And the third thing you'd all silently decided to never mention again.

“Alpha?” Mick suggests as you all walk out of the death-ridden place. You shake your head in disagreement. “Kitsune?”

“Nah, you're thinkin' brain.” He sighs and shrugs. “This is useless.”

“God?” Is Sam's guess and it's the best one you've got so you get to the motel room and crash in the Winchester's until one of you can find what this thing is.

A few hours later Sam flashes everyone his laptop. “Kappa?”

Deans sitting next to you on his bed, your head close to his chest as you both stare at his screen. Mick is sitting on the one opposite to yours, also researching. With Sam's distraction you all focus on him. 

You sit up next to Dean, shoulders touching. “What's that?”

“God.” Mick's the one who answers. “They're Japanese, look for someone with a hat.”

“A hat?”

“They have a dish-like thing on their head,” Sam explains, “They keep it hidden because it weakens them. And because it's weird to have a dish on your head.”

“Doesn't just weaken them, it makes them yours. You can control a Kappa by kneeling to it. It's forced to kneel back so the water in the dish is poured out. Pour some water back in and it's basically—”

“Your bitch.” Dean finishes with a smirk and you roll your eyes at how childish he is even if it's always been incredibly endearing in its own way.

You don't even notice that while your reaction was noticed by everyone, the too-long-stare at Dean's oh so perfect face was noticed by him. He doesn't brush it off, instead puts an arm around your shoulder, rubbing your arm once before looking back at Mick to continue.

Davies takes a breath for a second before looking back at his laptop and ignoring Dean's prying eyes. Sam quickly switches the attention to himself, “Yeah. Iron blade to the heart'll kill it.”

“But why's it just killin' people?”

“Don't know. We can ask around. They usually live near water so we could check out if there's any college—ers within the area that knew both of the victims.”

“Alright,” Mick stands up suddenly, “Tomorrow we'll do that. I'm heading in, G’night.” It doesn't take a second for him to pack his laptop bag and slam the door behind him leaving the three of you with confused expressions and looking at the other for answers.

“That was weird.” You shrug and squeeze impossibly closer to the older Winchester. He welcomes it, shutting his laptop off and placing it on the fancy nightstand to make more room for you. You're still over the covers but your eyes are already fluttering closed and you couldn't care less whether or not your shoes are still on. 

“You sleepin’, sweetheart?” You nod against his chest. “Want me to get you to your room?” You shake your head against his chest. “You sure?” This was getting tiring so you decide to ignore him and get back to where your mind usually goes to get your breath as even as possible and vision blank.

You feel him kiss your hair before you doze off.

“Coffee.” Dean yells and shuts the door behind him with a loud bang. It wakes you up instantly and with an aching neck. Fuck. How did you sleep last night?

As you maneuver out of the tangled sheets, you notice how uncomfortable your position is, which makes for the pounding headache. You rub it once and look up at Dean who's handing you a cup with a pink pastry bag.

“Waffles.” He encourages then thrusts it into your grasp. 

You take the first sip of coffee and sigh. Yeah, okay, you remember why you like waking up now. “Me and Sammy hit the only warehouse in town, and nada.” He starts explaining and though everything's a little fuzzy, you try to focus. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Another impossibly long sip of the scalding coffee that he’s gotten perfectly right, just like every time.

“You needed to sleep. S’fine. C’mon let’s go now and we can find the son of a bitch in one of the universities. They were both takin’ mythology classes.”

Oh. That would make sense. Actually, no it wouldn’t. “That matters because…”

“Because,” he exaggerates the word, opening up your duffel to ruffle through it for your clothes, “Because Kappa’s or whatever get mad when they’re disrespected. Sam said it’s likely that the students were just smack talkin’ him and he ate their souls out of their damn asses.”

“Their— what?”

“Oh yeah, we found out why their rears were gone. They take your soul out from the back road.” He chucks a pair of jeans and a black shirt (that’s his or Sam’s, you’d never guess) at you. “Get dressed, we’ll tell him we’re journalists wanting to know what he’s teaching this week. If it’s Kappas that confirms it.”

You nod and kick him out to actually get ready. It doesn’t take long, just twenty minutes, but the boys complain nonetheless before you decide what to do.

“‘Kay, I can take NorthWest, you take the other one.”

“UCI? Sure. You take Dean.” You nod at Sam and throw your car keys to him as he gets into the bright red vehicle and drives away. Dean comes back from the vending machine. 

“Where is he going?”

“UCI. We’re going to NorthWest.” He accepts it quickly and gets into Baby’s driver's seat while you run to the passenger’s. “By the way,” you break the two minute long silence as he takes a turn, “Where’s Mick?”

“Left us for something back in HQ. Said it’s important and that we’ll do fine without him.” You nod though it makes you slump your shoulders slightly. Why would he just bail in the middle of a hunt? Dean notices your expression and scoffs.

“Seriously? Mick Davies?”

Your eyes widen and you sit up, backing into the door as much as possible, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, you've been flirting with him ever since we agreed to help his American Takeover plan.”

“First of all, you fucking suck. Second, I am not flirting. I am being reasonable with a man who deserves nothing less from me. What the crazy bitch did to Sam doesn’t mean that he’s as bad as she is— and you heard them, she’s taken care of.”

“Exactly! You’re defending him like your life depends on it.”

“Is that all you got from this?”

“Why would I listen to anything you say if it’s going to involve the British Men of Letters being right?”

“You’re so childish sometimes—” He takes a sharp turn and forces your head into the glass window. You groan, holding the back of your head and rubbing furiously as if that’ll lower the pain.

“You okay— hey, you with me? You okay?”

“Yeah,” you take a breath, lowering your hand, “m’fine.” He lets go of the hand on your arm (when did that happen?) and looks back at the road that he’d left for way too long. 

“You sure?”

“M’fine.” You repeat. It takes a second for that to actually become true, but it does eventually, and then he parks in front of the university. He nods at you one more time to make sure there’s no physical damage and you confirm your heads fine then walk into the history and arts division. 

There’s only one Greek mythology professor which makes your job a lot easier. Dean knocks twice before someone shouts to come in. “Doctor Marshall?”

“Yes.” 

It doesn’t take long for him to admit that he is teaching all about Kappas this semester. And that it’s a nationwide thing because it’s unfortunately in the curriculum. And the whole country moves as fucking one apparently so the whole town is going through the chapter about the turtle gods (Dean’s choice of words).

“Alright, thanks for your time, Doctor Marshall.” He ushers you out with gratitudes before Dean adds. “By the way, cool hat.” He smiles tightly then pushes us out. 

“At night?” You make sure and Dean nods, jaw clenching.

When it’s that time of night where you go hunt the mutant teenage ninja turtle fucker, Dean is sitting next to you in the drivers seat. Sam decided long ago to do more research in case he’s needed so it's just the two of you.

He parks in the university's parking lot. You text Sam that you’ve arrived so if you take too long— you’ve probably been taken. You both make your way into the division, sneaking into the hallway where you’re sure the professor/ turtle god is. 

You both stand on either side of the door before Dean counts you down and you open the door quickly, gun in the air. It won’t kill him, but iron bullets would likely slow him down. 

“Professor?” You shout into the room. It’s bigger than an office should be. There’s another long dining table along with his personal one— since you’ve learned he’s the director of the division. A bathroom, where he could be hiding, and too many cabinets all over.

Dean’s looking around and just as you’re sure there’s nothing, about to call it off, you feel… something, dripping onto your hair. You put your gun down to touch it— just water. Then you look up to make sure we’re it came from— oh fuck.

You’re on the floor, Marshall on top of you. “You—” Dean’s threat doesn’t go far as he shoots it in the arm. It shrugs the bullet away and his eyes widen. Marshall jumps on him, throwing the hunter onto the floor, giving you time to groan and move onto your back. 

You take your blade out and struggle for breath as you scream Dean’s name, throwing the blade into his hand. He catches it, quickly jamming it into his heart. Well. There you go. You’re welcome, city. You’ve just been saved.

Those are your last thoughts as you notice blood seeping through your white shirt and your dizziness stops being manageable. 

“Hey! No, no, no, c’mon, no.” Dean, as quickly as he possibly could with the minor injuries he has, carries you to Baby. “When did this happen, what is this?”

You shrug in his arms. “Must’ve clawed me when he jumped.”

“He’s a turtle.”

“I don’t care.” Dean scoffs with a small smile and places you into the passenger's seat, pleading with you to keep pressure on the wound. 

You cough up blood, trying to keep most of it on your clothes as opposed to Baby’s interior. Then try to take your phone out to call Sam, there’s already a couple of missed calls.

“Hey!” Dean snatches the phone, “no, keep pressure.” You couldn’t talk back if you tried, so you nod and start to doze off. “And no sleeping either.” That makes you groan, completely ignoring him. A nap would do you good.

Yeah. Naps are good. They’re nice— who’s calling your name? Who cares.

“BP— yes, doctor. I’m sorry, you can’t see her right now.” You start to stir against the uncomfortable bed. When did Mick get cheap? 

Then you notice the beeping. And the nurses. “Are you alright, Ariel?” You narrow your eyes at the name. Oh, right. Fake identities. You nod. “You’ve been in a bad accident, we’ve stitched you right up but you’ve lost a lot of blood. Can you handle visitors?” Another nod.

She walks out and two six foot something hunters walk in. You let out a weak smile. “Hey.”

“Scared the fuck out of us.” Sam’s the first to sigh in relief and you laugh at his statement. He hugs you, pulling you impossibly closer and you don’t complain even if all the muscles in your body want to.

He leaves to bring you all coffees and Dean steps even closer. “You alright?” It seems reassuring people that you’re ‘okay’ has been your full time job at the moment. 

“Yes, Dean. Are you? Were you hurt? Did we get him?” 

“Yeah. Sam handled the other one.”

“There were others?”

“Two. Him and his son. Both psychopaths.” Good, at least it’s been taken care of. “You really did scare us. Thought you wouldn’t make it and— we didn’t even notice you know? M’sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for not being fast too.” He shakes his head with a frown.

“Stop. We should get home before the nurses come back. They gave us a prescription.” Oh, yeah, you probably should. Dean’s voice throws you off though, way too deep. Was he crying? Can’t be if anyone would be emotional over your almost-death it would be Sam first. 

“Okay.” He sighs and helps you out of the bed. Sam comes back and successfully sneaks you out with the change of clothes they have for you. It hurts like a bitch the whole ride to the hotel and your whole body feels like sand. They leave you resting in the backseat while they get the rest of their stuff from the hotel room, and Dean’s out of town faster than you can keep awake. 

It’s a five hour ride and you sleep through all of it. Dean almost drives to another hospital thinking you’ve just died in the backseat. When they’re back in the bunker, both boys offer to carry your bags and you let Sam, struggling to even get out of the seat to grab a bag. 

You found that you had the painkiller prescribed here in the bunker so you didn’t buy any— you’ve been feeling everything for a few hours now and it’s been so painful the only words that left your mouth were curses or groans.

“C’mon,” Dean helps you stand and lets you lean on him the whole way back until you’re in bed. He gets the painkillers, water that you don’t even use, and your laptop. He sits down next to you in bed. “I’m…” it doesn’t take a genius to know Dean thinks he’s at fault, and that he should apologize. And that he won’t, he’ll just look at you, eyes so full and it just takes that for him to earn your forgiveness.

“It’s okay.” He takes a breath, looking down at you. Time doesn’t stop, in fact it goes painfully slow as he stares into your eyes, yours in his. You’re just waiting, like you always have when it comes to Dean Winchester. You’re waiting for him to make a move, to stop flirting, messing around, to kiss you.

“Can I… you—” he leans in closer, impossibly closer, you can’t see him anymore, you have to close your eyes and hope he presses his lips to yours because your already pathetically inching upwards. 

He does. He presses his lips against yours, so soft, though it’s a contradiction to how he kisses. He’s rough, moving himself instantly to get a better angle, holding you head in his hands so you don’t crain your neck, and pushes you into the mattress, stealing your breath away. And maybe a little of your pride too, because holy fuck you’re kissing Dean and your moans are not silent.

You can’t even blame girls for falling at his feet if that’s only how he kisses. He’s so passionate it gives you whiplash, he’s hard and pushy, but his tongue is still easily sliding over your lips and then into your mouth, and he’s pulling you in. It feels like ages. It’s been a few minutes. Or seconds. Who knows? He pulls away some time later and his breath is nowhere near as heavy as yours but his smile is just as wide as yours. 

“Where did that come from?” You asked between breaths.

His face couldn’t have fallen faster if he tried. He starts pulling away. “If—”

You shake your head quickly. “No, no, I liked it. I like you.”

“That’s probably good,” he leans down to pull you into another, “because I like you too.” And it’s music to your ears. He’s still pushing and pulling, but he forgets your state and you groan so loud against his lips he pulls back. “Fuck, you okay, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Yeah. Yes.” You would repeat it a thousand times more if it meant hearing that nickname from him again. What does all of this even mean? You like each other? “I'm sorry, everything just hurts.”

He pulls back completely, but keeps still on the bed. “Yeah, I know.”

“Dean what does this—”

“I don’t want to see you with Davies again.” You almost choke on nothing. “You’re mine.”

Yes. Of course, yes. You just wish, with everything in you, that you weren’t stubborn, “Dean, he’s a good guy.”

His stare shows just how little he cares. “If he calls you ‘love’,” he mocks, “ever again, I’m going to drive him into a building.” 

That shuts you up with a nod. Then you laugh, a little too loudly. He joins in a second later then shakes his head, like he’s trying to make sure this is real. “You were jealous.”

“No, just… he doesn’t deserve you, you know that. God knows I don’t either, but he definitely doesn’t.”

“Yeah, sure, De. You were jealous.” He stands up as if he’s leaving the room and you whine, apologizing so he’ll come back. His heart constricts at the noises and he shows you that he was just turning off the lights, then he’s laying next to you again, your laptop still at your feet. “Movie?”

“I could think of another thing.” You could too. Your body, though, could only think of sleep. He sees your gaze drop lower. “I meant sleeping.” That causes you to roll your eyes. 

This seems right. It definitely doesn’t feel it (nothing feels right, your body’s like sand at the moment) but it’s what you’ve always known right to be. You and Dean. 

Main Masterlist

Angst- 🌧️

Fluff- 🫶🏻

Implied smut- 🥵

Smut- 💦

Dean Winchester :

ONE/TWO SHOTS AND DRABBLES

The heart wants what it wants : Dean falls for a simple girl, would he lose her over his life as a hunter. 🌧️🫶🏻

Deepest Desire : What happens when Dean reveals his deepest desire and it’s not what Y/n expected. 🌧️

Chosen Affection : Part 2 to Deepest desire. Dean tells Y/n the truth. 🌧️🫶🏻🥵

One of your girls : Y/n attempts to seduce Dean in a bar. 🥵

Only girl : Part 2 to One of your girls 💦🫶🏻

R and R : Just some Rest and Relaxation. 🥵

Shut up, Winchester : Dean does the one eight reverse thing on Baby. 🫶🏻🥵

I don’t wanna live forever : Dean’s a demon and doesn’t want to go back, will y/n be able to convince him? 🌧️

Dusk till Dawn : Part 2 to I don’t wanna live forever, what happens when Sam brings Dean back. 🌧️🫶🏻🥵

But Daddy, I love him : Dean fell in love with a demon, Crowley’s daughter specifically. 🫶🏻

Baby : Who is Dean’s baby? 🫶🏻

Tender Care : Y/n takes care of Dean when he’s sick.🫶🏻

Lie to me : Y/n asks Dean do her a favour and lie to her. 🌧️

Fleeting love : Dean’s high school love story.🫶🏻🌧️

Timeless love : Part 2 to fleeting love, Dean and Y/n meet again. 🌧️🫶🏻

The Witch and the Hunter : Dean doesn’t like cats or witches, ironically he falls for both. 🫶🏻

MINI SERIES

Revived: A witch hunt goes wrong and Dean dies. 🌧️🫶🏻

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Completed)

You’d never know : Dean bears the consequences of saying something he shouldn’t have said. 🌧️🫶🏻

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (Completed)

Crossed Allegiances : What happens when Y/n has to choose her life over love. 🌧️🫶🏻💦

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Completed)

SERIES

Unveiled Sorrows : Dean and Y/n’s complicated journey through the Apocalypse. 🌧️🫶🏻🥵

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue (Completed)

Behind Closed Doors : Boss Dean AU. 🌧️🫶🏻

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Jensen Ackles:

ONE/ TWO SHOTS AND DRABBLES:

Reverie : A heartfelt banter between Mr and Mrs Ackles 🫶🏻

Sam Winchester :

ONE/TWO SHOTS AND DRABBLES :

Uncertainty : A case leads Y/n to some revelations. 🌧️🫶🏻

What’s a girl gotta do : Find out what’s a girl gotta do to be loved. 🫶🏻

Slumber Party: Sam’s girl braids his hair. 🫶🏻

Others:

Blue eyed stud : Damon X Reader. (TVD)

Season 16 Masterlist

Summary: After being captured by Michael while Dean was under his control, the reader has spent a very, very long time locked away waiting for someone to come and find her. When the day finally comes that the door opens, it’s not a familiar face she’s greeted with. Somehow the impossible is standing right in front of her but there’s no time to think about that. Something is terribly wrong and the reader needs the help of this strange young man if she wants to stop what Michael put in motion long ago and have a chance at seeing Dean again. Maybe even alive again…

Pairing: Dean x reader 

Word Count: 16.4K

Warnings: language, SPN season 15 and series spoilers, injury, mention of main character deaths, mention of torture, creepy situations, angst, fluff

A/N #1: This series takes place post season 15 and follows canon (i.e. if it happened in the show, it happened in this story’s universe with a very few slight additions). This series is told between the reader and Dean’s POV.

A/N: This series is complete!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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