#Spn masterlist

[wolvietxt]

can you do overprotective with dean winchester?

from this prompt list 🩷: https://www.tumblr.com/wolvietxt/764960124626403328/overprotective-sunshine-is-about-to-do-something?source=share

DEAN’S voice cut through the air, sharp and unyielding, stopping you mid-step on the wooden ledge. 

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?”  

you froze, looking over your shoulder to see him stalking toward you, his expression hard enough to rival stone. his green eyes burned with something between frustration and fear, and it pinned you in place like a physical force.  

“we don’t have time to waste,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm. “i’ll go first and make sure it’s stable.”  

dean’s jaw clenched, and his boots ground into the gravel as he closed the distance between you. “no. you’re not stepping foot on that thing.”  

“dean - ”  

“don’t dean me,” he snapped, cutting you off. “you’re not doing it.”  

“someone has to,” you argued, gesturing toward the rickety bridge swaying precariously over the canyon. “we can’t just stand here debating.”  

“then i’ll do it,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “no way in hell am i letting you go out there first.”  

“why does it always have to be you?” you shot back, your irritation bubbling to the surface. “i’m not some damsel you have to protect, dean. i can handle myself.”  

“it’s not about that,” he said, his voice dropping low, rough with an emotion he rarely let slip. “it’s about me not being able to handle it if something happened to you. so stop being stubborn and let me do this.”  

his words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. he didn’t look away, didn’t try to soften the intensity of his gaze. it was like he needed you to understand, to take him seriously.  

you sighed, stepping back slightly. “fine. but if you fall, i’m not carrying your ass back up.”  

the corner of his mouth twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “yeah, yeah,” he muttered, turning toward the bridge.  

he tested the first plank with his boot, his movements deliberate and cautious. the wood groaned under his weight, but it held, and he took another step. you watched, your hands clenched into fists at your sides as he made his way across.  

“dean,” you called, unable to keep the worry out of your voice.  

he glanced back over his shoulder, his expression softening for just a second. “i’m fine. just hang tight.”  

it felt like an eternity before he reached the other side and turned to face you.  

“all right,” he called. “your turn. take it slow.”  

you stepped onto the bridge, your heart hammering in your chest as the wood creaked beneath your feet. you kept your eyes on dean, his steady gaze a lifeline as you moved forward.  

when you finally reached him, his hand shot out, grabbing yours to help you over the last step.  

“see? no big deal,” you said, though your legs felt like jelly.  

“reckless,” he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual bite.  

“overprotective,” you shot back, your lips twitching into a smile.  

“damn right,” he said, his eyes scanning your face like he was memorizing every detail.  

you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, dean leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. it was soft at first, tentative, like he wasn’t sure if you’d pull away. but when you didn’t, he deepened the kiss, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed against your skin.  

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he let out a shaky breath. “you drive me crazy, you know that?”  

you grinned, your fingers curling into the front of his jacket. “yeah, but you love it.”  

he shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “don’t push your luck, sunshine.”  

you giggled, the sound light and unburdened as the tension between you melted away. for once, you let yourself lean into the safety of his presence, knowing he’d always be there to catch you.

ᰔ dean winchester : @person-005, @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing, @jackles010378

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[artyandink]

hyperthermia

Summary: Based on a request by @yinorathedragontamer. You needed a break from hunting, so you didn’t go on the latest one, but found you needed something to occupy your time. Just your luck that the Winchesters happened to return home when you were washing Baby, and you caught the eye of a certain someone.

A/N - Banners in use by @cafekitsune, first entry for Jensen-A-Thon!

TW: Set in S9 (so hot, scruffy Dean guys), and blatant checking out/fantasising

Want to request something? Drop a message in my ask box!

Want to join my Dean Winchester (or any other Jensen character) taglist? Go to my main master list and find the Forms link!

Dean and Sam ambled back into the bunker, duffel bags carried by their taut arms like they’d done a million times before, so what should be a bag of bricks was a feather. Dean swept his hand over his mouth while Sam’s went through his hair, both ready to crash from the wear and tear of the hunt.

“I swear, m’ready to goddamn pass out.” Dean chuckled, nails scratching over the scruff that had grown on his cheek. He’d been hit a few times - not enough to cause bruises and whatnot - hard enough to cause fatigue once the adrenaline of the fight was used and faded.

Sam could only grunt in agreement, trying to rub the effects of a long drive from Oregon out of his eyes, paired it’s the disgruntlement of having to listen to rock tracks in the car. “You and me both. But hey, we should at least visit-”

“Roger that.” Dean cut Sam off before he could finish, in search of you. You were always a sight for sore eyes after a hunt, no matter what you were dressed in or if you were covered in blood; he enjoyed the vision that you were. More than he cared to admit.

He checked your bedroom, but he only found an unusually neat bed and a clean room, which was a rare occurrence for you and had him thinking that you were kidnapped, which prompted him to take out his gun.

You never did up your bed.

He crept through the hall, hoping to the good God that his boots didn’t squeak, but then familiar humming of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ caught the attention of his ears, originating from the garage. Followed by his arrival there, where he spotted you. And it wasn’t only just the sight of you that had him standing up straight.

You, in nothing but a soaked through plaid shirt tucked into some tight denim shorts, the sleeves of the plaid rolled up to your elbows and drawing his attention to your pretty hands. Hair damp and falling just right and had him biting his lip and fighting off the urge to ruin your friendship entirely. Droplets of water running down your neck, that damn sexy curve of your slightly bent legs and trailing beneath the v-shaped neckline that the collar of your shirt made that he was starting to think was made on purpose to make him go insane.

The image was too damn sinful. And he was suddenly not so tired and ‘ready to goddamn pass out’, more like licking his lips and biting the bottom one as he folded his arms over his chest. Eyes trained on you. Yeah, not so tuckered out anymore and ready to catch the full nine.

His bed can go to hell, he wanted you pinned against the bonnet of his Baby, legs spread wide so he could fit in between and show you how much he appreciated the job well-goddamn-done. Did he mention you were washing Baby? Probably not, he was too distracted with the way your hips were swaying as you stepped to cover another part of his beloved Impala with soap suds that then trickled down your own body and made your attire that much more see through and you that much more delicious.

Holy Jesus of Nazareth, you were giving his self control a run for its money. And his self control was likely to lose the money and go bankrupt if he wasn’t distracted pronto.

Wait- but why was he objectifying you? You were doing him a solid by cleaning the other girl of his dreams, why the hell would he think about your legs like that? And your body clearly outlined by the wet, clingy material of your shirt that he was starting to feel jealous of because he wanted to be that close to you.

No. Bad Dean.

He licked his lips again, his hips shifting slightly as he fought a clearing of his throat in case it’d alert you of his presence. His mossy eyes trained so precisely on you, it’d probably let you know he was there anyway, heat radiating from his gaze.

He didn’t want to think about the curve of that pretty neck. Or the way it’d feel under his lips.

Neither did he want to think about those delicate hands - that he knew were tough as hell - holding the sponge that was lathering up his Baby. Or the way they’d feel working his - nope, too far.

Definitely not the way the shirt looked like it now had to be peeled off your skin to reveal the treasure underneath, because god-holy-damn he had managed to catch a glimpse of black lace underneath that plaid. He’d happily unwrap you like a frickin’ present and it wasn’t even Christmas for about six months.

“Damn, pretty girl.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair that was begging to let his feet walk over, grab your hip and pull you into him so he could lick up your neck to collect all the water droplets running down them. What he wouldn’t give to just pop the button on those shorts, get to his knees and work you until his tongue ached.

Right there. Right-frickin’-there. Against his Baby-

“Pretty girl? That’s what we’re calling her now?” Sam muttered into his ear with a snort, not loud enough for you to hear as you bent over Baby’s bonnet in just the right way to have Dean’s eyes sliding down to that gorgeous ass framed in those shorts that should damn well be illegal.

Dean was snapped partially out of his thoughts, left embarrassed and disgruntled and somewhat still ogling that God-blessed ass before he followed Sam through the halls, the latter of which was sporting a smug smirk. “H-Hey, I was just-”

Sam raised his hands in surrender with a small laugh, looking back to Dean knowingly. “Hey, if you wanna check out her ass, do it at your own risk.”

“I wasn’t checking out her…” Dean got an image of it again and smirked slightly, jerking his head to the side, “yeah, maybe I was, so what? Can you blame me? That thing’s-”

Sam held up a finger, shivering in borderline discomfort as his mind filled the blank. “I’m gonna TMI you before you say it.”

“I’m just sayin’, I’m a man. I have needs, where a female who’s a badass hunter and also happens to be gorgeous and also happens to live with us is concerned. And it’s worse when she’s handlin’ my Baby.” He gave Sam a sheepish grin, but the younger Winchester only shook his head in mock disapproval, grabbing the duffel with his pyjamas.

“I’m going to bed.”

“You do that.” Dean grabbed his own duffel, heading to his room which, to his luck, passed the garage and you working on the car. You managed to lock eyes with him, and you gave him a cheery wave. He returned it, and as you turned, his eyes slid down to the curve of your ass again, eyebrows pumping once as a smirk stretched his pouty lips.

“I’ll see you in my dreams, sweetheart.” He muttered before he disappeared off to his bedroom to live his fantasy.

Meanwhile, you dried your face and neck off with a chuckle, going back to your room to change into some get into some drier and more comfortable clothing with a smug smirk on your face.

You’d noticed Dean through Baby’s newly cleaned mirror that you could probably sing ‘Reflection’ from Mulan in. His eyes taking you in and licking his lips like you were the latest snack he wanted to devour. His hands itching to touch you, his mind going blank when you pushed out your ass on purpose in order to catch his attention.

That was just phase one of your multi-step plan to strip Dean Winchester of his self control where you were concerned.

“Mission accomplished.” You muttered under your breath with a giggle.

I’d really appreciate feedback, loves! Have a great day!

TAGLIST: @k-slla @hobby27

[arjwrites]

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ my masterlist ˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖

about/rules

requests: closed (but not for long!)

100 FOLLOWER EVENT: REQUESTS OPEN <3

100 follower event masterlist

SAM WINCHESTER X READER

Close- fluff, fem!reader Summary: Reader breaks her arm on a hunt and needs some somewhat intimate assistance. Who does she ask for help but Sam Winchester, with whom she shares a silent, mutual pining????

Take A Picture, It'll Last Longer- fluff Summary: While hunting with the Winchesters, you had picked up a disposable camera to capture some memories. Each photo represented an important point in your collective journey- all the while, hinting at a budding connection behind the scenes. 

Close Behind- angst, gn!reader Summary: You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Sam- and that scares the hell out of him. Based on the song “Close Behind” by Noah Kahan. 

Heaven Hellbent- angst, fem!reader Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Sam discovers a secret you've been keeping for years. Part 1 of the series! DEAN WINCHESTER X READER

Back on the Beach- fluff, angst, gn!reader Summary: Reader and the Winchesters find themselves at the beach for a rare day off after a long string of difficult hunts. Something about the special day changes things forever.

Bless the Broken Road- angst, fem!reader Summary: A glimpse into the broken road that led Dean Winchester to you. Based on "Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts.

Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- fluff, angst, gn!reader Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.

The Space Between- fluff, a little bit of spice, gn!reader Summary: Reader breaks their arm on a hunt and needs a little assistance. Dean version of Close (Sam x Reader)

In The Stillness- angst, fluff, fem!reader Summary: A glimpse into the ways you've impacted Dean Winchester CASTIEL X READER

Numb- angst, comfort, winchester sister!reader Summary: Reader is Sam and Dean’s sister. After a series of unfortunate events, she finds herself separating from her brothers to deal with her own shit the only way she knows how. Castiel, however, has a few things to say about it. 

Saving Grace | Part 2- gn!reader Summary: Cas is hurt after a hunt, and when he's hurting, you're hurting. Sometimes even an angel needs a helping hand.

Saving Grace Epilogue- gn!reader Summary: Ways the world has softened since uniting with your angel. Can serve as an epilogue or stand alone!

Lessons on Humanity- gn!reader Summary: Human!Cas arrives on your doorstep in need of a helping hand. Taking him under your wing, you offer him more than he bargained for.

GABRIEL X READER Long Day- gn!reader Summary: After a stressful day, a familiar face pops in for a visit. With snacks.

CROWLEY X READER coming soon (leave a request!)

[yet-another-deanw-girl]

The Prophecy

Created with Microsoft Designer

She knew for 15 years that this day would come. She knew her destiny had already been written. That her death had been foretold.

She knew she would have to stop him. She knew she would have to kill him. And she thought she was prepared for all of it. But the day she met him she realized how wrong she was…

Set in Season 10

Pairing: MoC!Dean x Female!OC

Note: The events of this story are following season 10 of Supernatural and are taking place between October 2014 and July 2015. I tried to make sure that all the references to weapons, tech, etc. are accurate with the time period.

AN: This is my first time writing a fanfic but the story has been in my head for too long and it just needed to get out. I hope you like it.

AN: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Chapter 1: The girl and the werewolves Chapter 2: Protocol EG-64 initiated Chapter 3: The stand-off Chapter 4: The Order Chapter 5: So many questions, so little answers Chapter 6: A Girl Stuck in a Bunker Chapter 7: The Fates Chapter 8: Standing on Edge Chapter 9: Fairytales Chapter 10: Good Morning, Princess Chapter 11: The Mark, The Blade and The Scribe of God Chapter 12: I'm Not a Fucking Princess Chapter 13: Split Chapter 14: The Ghost and The Network Chapter 15: Just Turn It Off And On Again Chapter 16: Sweat It Out Chapter 17: Spilling truths between the lies Chapter 18: 33 Chapter 19: You again! Chapter 20: Games Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38

_________

[nochedie]

sleepless 🌙 — after a night of staring at the ceiling, drowning in your own thoughts, dean helps you fall asleep [fluff, 689]

just live with me 🌌 — aurora borealis: just a bit of winter memory making [fluff, 427]

with you 💡— you've been hunting with john and dean for a long time now, and you finally snap after john berates dean one too many times [angst, fluff, 2.4k]

is it worth it? 💭 — was it worth it to be happy for a little bit, even though it ended up sad, or would it have been better if the whole thing never happened? [fluff kinda? 551]

full of us 🎁 — dean pulled your name for secret santa [fluff, 1.3k]

more to come!!!

[hunterscabin]

Masterlist

DRABBLES

I’m Right Here (Dean x Reader)

I Will Frisk You (Dean x Reader) 

Probably (Dean x Reader)

ONE SHOTS

After The Storm (Dean X Reader): Dean takes care of the reader after a bad hunt. 

Birthday Pie (Dean x Reader; Sam x Reader): Dean is upset after a hunt gone wrong on his birthday. The reader tries to cheer him up with a homemade pie, but much like the hunt, her surprise doesn’t go as planned. 

Everything Goes Wrong (Sister!Reader): Dean is there to comfort his litter sister after she suffers a fatal injury while hunting.

Fever (Dean x Reader; Sam x Reader) : Sam and Dean urgently care for a very sick reader.

First Date (Dean X Reader): The reader reveals to Dean that she is nervous about a night out with a Lebanon local after being assaulted by the last man she dated. Dean offers to accompany her undercover, and the feelings they’ve been hiding from each other are revealed.

Lucky (Sister!Reader): Sam and Dean come to your rescue after a car accident.

Our Spot (Dean X Reader; 18+): Dean and the reader create a new memory at their favorite spot.

Safe With Us (Dean x Reader; Sam x Reader) : The reader is an actress on Supernatural. When a routine fight scene causes you to panic and run off set, Jared and Jensen comfort you. In doing so, they learn about the abuse you’ve been suffering at the hands of your boyfriend, Nicholas.

That’s What I’m Here For (Asthmatic!Reader): Sam and Dean help the reader through an asthma attack.

When I Look At You (Sam x Reader): The reader becomes a beauty pageant contestant to lure a vengeful spirit, and her confidence falters when she realizes the competition isn’t the empty spectacle she thought it’d be. With Sam’s encouragement, she finds the gumption she needs to finish the job.

SERIES

I Don’t Feel Anything (Dean x Reader; Sam x Reader) : While comforting the reader who is recovering in the hospital after a hunt, Sam and Dean deal with the guilt of your injuries.  Part I Part II

The Lighthouse (Dean x Reader; Sam x Reader) : A hunt takes a turn for the worse, and Sam and Dean fight to keep you alive. Part I Part II

This Baby Will Have A Father: Y/N is an actress on Supernatural. After becoming pregnant, her boyfriend leaves her, not wanting anything to do with the baby. Unsure of what the future holds, her male co-stars show her that she’s not alone.

Part I Part II

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

😇Supernatural Masterlist😇

Smut: 🔥🔥

Fluff: 🌸🌸

Heated Fluff: ⭐️⭐️

Friendly: 🌈🌈

Angst: 🌨️🌨️

💙 Collage

💚 Oneshot

💖 Preference/Headcanon

💜 Quote

💞 Blurb

Dean

- Panties 💚🔥

- Boyfriend 💖🌸

- Catwoman 💙⭐️

- Woman 💚🌸

- Bikini Girls with Machine Guns 💚⭐️

- Here 💚🌸

Lucifer

- Mind Control 💚🔥

Michael

- Chastity 💚🔥

- Sexy Angel 💙⭐️

Sam

- Deep 💚🔥

- Carry Me 💞🌸

- Sunflower 💚🌨️

- Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours) 💚🌸

[fandomtherapy44]

My Master lists!

This GIF is the true meaning of fanfiction in Misha's own words, just as a side note.

Smut: 18+ 🔥

Castiel x reader 🪽

Sam x reader Coffee Meet-ups One shot! ☕️ 🍁

Dean x reader Oneshot! Try to be quiet 🤫 🔥

Dean x reader So American one-shot 🇺🇸

Dean x reader espresso one-shot ☕️

Dean x reader Congrats you're a Dad!🍼🔥

Dean x reader Trick or Treat Pt2

to Congrats you're a Dad! 🍬 🔥

Dean x reader Behind the roadhouse 🍺🔥

R/N Con 🎤

Daryl Dixion x Fem.reader series masterlist

Stolen Moments Spike x reader Oneshot! 🔥

Sober Buddies CJ Braxton x reader🍻📝🔥

Five Hargreevs x reader Coffee and Sarcasm Oneshot! ☕️

Klaus x reader on hiatus🩸🐺

Tommy x reader /🚬

Frenchie x reader The smoke between our words one-shot 🚬

Solider Boy x reader 🇺🇸

[hexedwinchester]

Supernatural Masterlist

From random fleeting thoughts, character analysis to fanfics, here are the quick links to Supernatural masterlists.

Last Updated: 01.12.2024

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Supernatural Rewatch Masterlist

Supernatural Rave, Rant, Asks and Fics

[solitaryearthperson]

Supernatural/SPN Masterlist

*Series have 3 or more parts to them*

Imagines

Dean Winchester

Comfort - After having a nightmare in the middle of the night, the reader wakes up and goes to find somewhere to cry. Dean finds her and comforts her.

Support (Sequel to Comfort) - Waking up from a nightmare and not being able to go back to sleep, Dean heads down to his man-cave. (Y/N) finds him and comforts him.

Sam Winchester

None Yet

Castiel

Clarence - While looking for a place to sleep, (Y/N) talks to another homeless man named Clarence. *MALE READER*

Castiel (Sequel to Clarence) - (Y/N) wakes up in a strange place and finds ‘Clarence’ there and asks him to explain himself. *MALE READER*

Death (The First One)

None Yet

Series

Death (The First One)

Intriguing Series 

Intriguing - Death makes a surprise visit to the reader.

Puzzling - Death finds (Y/N) again and strikes up a small conversation with her.

Alluring - Wanting to binge watch Netflix for the night, (Y/N) has a familiar guest pop in to join her. He shares something important with her.

More to Come...

[wolvietxt]

ᰔ what really matters !

pairing : dean winchester x fem!reader warnings : shy!reader, crazy overthinking, friends to lovers, insecurities, implied anxiety, crying, hurt / comfort, jealousy, kiss, dean flirts w other people to show off, happy ending, size diff wc : 6.5k a/n : currently working on a part 2! 

it was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn. sam had found a lead on a restless spirit haunting a small-town diner, and dean, ever eager for some pie and action, had jumped at the opportunity. you’d tagged along, like always, quietly sitting in the back seat of the impala, offering occasional input between the brothers’ banter.  

the plan was clear: investigate during the day, torch the bones at night. simple enough. yet somehow, being in close proximity to dean for an extended period always felt anything but simple.  

“you’ve been awfully quiet back there,” dean said, turning slightly in the driver’s seat to glance at you. his green eyes lingered a moment too long, forcing him to correct the car’s steering. “everything good?”  

you nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. “yeah, just… thinking.”  

“uh-oh,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips. “are you thinking weird again? i told you, sweetheart, you don’t need to do that with us. leave the worrying to sammy.”  

sam huffed from the passenger seat. “thanks for that, dean.”  

you offered a small smile, unsure how to respond. dean’s words felt warm, like a blanket, but your mind couldn’t stop picking them apart. was he teasing, or did he mean it? did he think you worried too much? was it annoying?  

you shook the thoughts away as the car rolled to a stop in front of the diner.  

inside, the place was charming in that worn-down, small-town way. red vinyl booths, a jukebox in the corner, and a waitress who seemed to know everyone’s name. dean leaned against the counter, his usual swagger on full display.  

“so, martha,” he said, flashing the waitress a smile that could’ve melted butter, “anything weird going on around here lately? cold spots, flickering lights, mysterious whispers…?”  

you hovered awkwardly near sam, feeling out of place. martha’s eyes sparkled as she leaned closer to dean, completely ignoring you and sam.  

“oh, weird stuff always happens around here,” she said with a giggle. “but nothing too scary. why, you boys hunting ghosts or something?”  

dean chuckled. “or something.”  

you shifted on your feet, pretending to study the menu even though you weren’t planning on ordering anything. dean’s charm was undeniable, and you’d seen him use it a million times to get information, but it always left you with a strange, hollow feeling.  

not that it mattered. it wasn’t like he meant anything by it.  

“you alright?” sam asked softly, pulling you from your thoughts.  

“yeah,” you lied. “just tired.”  

sam didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push.  

the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of questions and notes. martha had mentioned a former cook who’d died on the job and hinted at some unusual occurrences in the kitchen, which gave you all a solid lead.  

“we’ll dig up his records, find the grave, and salt-and-burn tonight,” sam said as you walked back to the car.  

“easy peasy,” dean added, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he held the door open for you. “see, this is why you keep us around. all the hard work, none of the worrying.”  

your heart jumped at the casual contact, but you forced yourself to focus. it didn’t mean anything. he was just being dean.  

the graveyard was damp and cold by the time you arrived. armed with shovels, salt, and gasoline, you worked as quickly as possible, trying not to draw attention.  

“you’re sure this is the right spot?” you asked, glancing at the headstone.  

“positive,” sam said. “records match up.”  

“don’t worry,” dean said with a wink, “we’ve got this.”  

you weren’t sure how he managed to be so confident all the time. it was like he didn’t feel fear, or at least he never showed it. you, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about what might go wrong. as the brothers dug, you stayed on lookout, flashlight in hand. the woods were eerily quiet, every rustle of leaves setting your nerves on edge.  

“hey,” dean called, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “you good over there, sweetheart?”  

you nodded, gripping the flashlight tighter. “yeah, just keeping watch.”  

“you’re cute when you’re focused, you know that?” he said, grinning as he tossed another shovelful of dirt aside.  

your face burned, and you quickly turned away, pretending to scan the trees. cute? he probably didn’t mean it. he said stuff like that all the time.  

still, the word echoed in your mind, making it hard to think straight.  

the ghost showed up right on cue, just as dean and sam hit the coffin. it was a tall, shadowy figure with glowing eyes, and boy did it move fast. too fast.  

“stay back!” dean shouted, stepping in front of you as the spirit lunged.  

sam was already throwing salt and iron, keeping it at bay while dean lit the match and dropped it into the open grave. flames roared to life, and the ghost let out an ear-splitting scream before vanishing.  

you stood frozen, heart pounding as the grave smoldered.  

“you okay?” dean asked, turning to you. his hands landed on your shoulders, steady and warm.  

you nodded, your voice stuck in your throat.  

“you sure?” he pressed, his green eyes scanning your face.  

“yeah, i’m fine,” you managed to whisper, hoping the fear in your eyes wasn’t too obvious.

he didn’t look convinced but let it go, giving you a reassuring squeeze before stepping back.  

the ride back to the motel was quiet, exhaustion settling over the group.  

“not bad for a day’s work,” dean said, trying to lighten the mood.  

you offered a small smile, but your mind was still racing. every little thing he said, every glance, every touch — it all felt so significant, and yet it probably meant nothing to him.  

“you’re thinking too much again,” dean teased, catching your eye in the rearview mirror. “what’d i tell you about that?”  

“it’s nothing,” you said quickly, hoping he’d drop it.  

but dean being dean, he didn’t.  

“come on,” he said, turning in his seat to face you. “spill it. what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”  

you froze, unsure how to respond. sam shot you a sympathetic look but didn’t intervene.  

“seriously,” dean pressed, his voice softer now. “are you good?”  

you nodded, forcing a smile. “yeah, ‘m just tired.”  

he studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before turning back to the road.  

back at the motel, you retreated to your room as quickly as possible, needing space to breathe.  

dean had always been a little too much — too loud, too charming, too... everything. and yet, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, even if you knew it was hopeless. you sighed, flopping onto the bed and staring at the ceiling.  

somewhere in the room next door, dean was probably cracking jokes with sam, completely unaware of the chaos he caused in your mind.  

it was fine. it had to be fine.  

because as much as you wanted to believe he saw you as more than a friend, you couldn’t risk getting your hopes up.  

the day started like any other, with sam at the laptop, you poring over your notes, and dean bustling around with an air of restless energy.  

“coffee?” dean asked, holding up a cup for you.  

you nodded, offering a small smile. “thanks.”  

he plopped down beside you at the motel table, his knee bumping yours. “so, what’s the game plan today, professor?”  

“um…” you hesitated, flipping through the notebook in front of you. “so, i think we should — ”  

“let me guess,” dean interrupted with a grin. “the safest, most boring route possible, right?”  

you blinked, taking a second to process what he’d just said, hurt surely beginning to form in your features.

“it’s not boring,” you mumbled.  

“sure thing… but hey, relax!” he said, patting your shoulder. “you’re good at what you do, even if you’re a little… well, a lot predictable.”  

your stomach twisted. predictable? was that how he saw you?  

“thanks, dean,” you muttered, staring down at your notes to hide the burn in your cheeks. sam noticed though. sam always noticed.

sam shot dean a look from across the room. “hey, maybe ease up a little, man.”  

“what?” dean said, shrugging him off, a deep chuckle reverberating from his chest. “i’m just messing with her.”  

the lighthearted tone didn’t soften the sting. you knew dean teased everyone, but his words stuck like a burr under your skin, refusing to let go.  

soon after, the three of you piled into the impala, the rumble of the engine filling the silence as dean cranked up the radio. you stared out the window, letting the music blur into background noise while your mind replayed the conversation from earlier.  

predictable. you thought, the word echoing in your head.  

you weren’t mad at dean — how could you be? he didn’t mean anything by it. but the overthinking wouldn’t let up, weaving a web of doubt and insecurity that clung to you like static.  

“you okay?” sam asked from the front seat, glancing back at you.  

you forced a smile. “yeah. just tired.”  

sam didn’t press, but his concerned expression lingered.  

the diner was bustling with mid-morning activity when you arrived, the smell of coffee and sizzling bacon wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. you slid into the booth, hoping the noise would drown out your thoughts.  

“what can i get ya?” the waitress asked, her voice cheerful as she slid the menus across the table.

“just a coffee, please,” you said quickly, barely looking up as your fingers fumbled over the paper.

“and a stack of pancakes,” dean added, leaning forward and giving her a grin that was just a little too easy. “extra syrup. gotta start the day off right, y’know?”

the waitress’s eyes lit up, and she laughed, her attention lingering on dean as she jotted down the order. there was something almost playful in the way she looked at him, an expression that made your chest tighten.

“you sure know how to charm, don’t ya?” she teased, her voice warm and full of flirtation.

“what can i say?” dean replied, that easy smirk tugging at his lips. “comes pretty easily when i’m speaking to women like you.”

you forced your eyes back to the menu, though you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the way the waitress’s fingers lingered on the pen, her attention still fixed on dean. the two of them seemed to be in a world of their own, and you were just... here. watching. waiting.

“what about you, sweetheart?” the waitress turned to you, her smile softening just slightly, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“uh, just coffee, please,” you mumbled again, feeling heat crawl up your neck. your voice felt small in the noise of the diner, a whisper lost among the clatter of plates and low hum of conversation.

“gotcha,” she said, giving you a brief, almost dismissive nod before turning and making her way to the kitchen. you could still feel her attention on you, like an echo, but this time, it was empty, no warmth behind it.

dean shifted beside you, leaning back and letting out a low chuckle. “she’s got quite the smile, huh?” his eyes were teasing, his grin crooked as he looked over at you and sam. the joke was light, but there was an edge to it that made you feel off balance.

you forced a laugh, but it came out hollow, cracking under the weight of the moment. “yeah, sure,” you said, keeping your eyes fixed on the coffee cup in front of you, the porcelain cool and solid beneath your fingertips.

“you okay?” sam’s voice broke through the silence once again. dean’s teasing slipping away as his eyes studied you too. there was a flicker of concern in them, but before you could let yourself get lost in it, he added, “didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, sweetheart. it’s just... that kind of smile, you know?”

the question hung in the air, and you couldn’t tell if he was talking about the waitress or you. but the sharp sting of jealousy you felt at the thought made your throat tighten. you forced a smile, though it felt like a lie. “i’m fine. just... not hungry, that’s all.”

“you sure?” he pressed, his expression softening as he reached for his coffee. the playful energy had faded, and now there was something else, a vulnerability that felt rare for him.

“yeah,” you said, voice quiet. “just... never mind.”

he leaned back, eyes still on you, but this time, there was a shadow in them, a shift that made your heart twist. he looked away, watching the waitress as she came back with a smile that was just for him. his eyes softened, and he laughed as she spoke to him, teasing and warm.

it was almost too much, the way he could be so effortlessly charming. your chest ached with the realization that the way he looked at her was the same way he looked at you sometimes, though it felt different when it was just the two of you, alone in the dim light of the bunker. 

by the time the food arrived, your appetite had disappeared. dean was still chatting with the waitress every time she came by, his voice low and easy in a way that made your chest ache.  

you stared at your coffee cup, your fingers tightening around it as your thoughts spiraled. was this what dean wanted? someone confident, flirty, and self-assured? someone like her?  

the sting of earlier comments layered on top, building a weight that felt impossible to carry.  

“you sure you’re okay?” sam asked again softly, his voice cutting through the haze.  

“fine,” you said quickly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over.  

sam’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t push.  

dean, oblivious, kept talking. “man, this coffee’s strong enough to put hair on your chest. might wanna ease up, professor,” he teased, nudging you lightly.  

that was it. the dam broke.  

you barely registered standing up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.  

“excuse me,” you muttered, your voice shaking.  

you hurried out of the diner, your chest tight and your vision blurred.  

sam found you a few minutes later, sitting on a bench just outside. he didn’t say anything at first, just sat down beside you and offered a quiet, grounding presence.  

“you wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asked eventually, his tone careful.  

you shook your head, unable to form the words.  

“okay,” he said gently. “you don’t have to talk. just breathe.”  

his arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you close. the dam fully burst then, tears streaming down your face as you buried your head in your hands.  

sam held you, his voice low and steady. “you’re alright. just let it out.”  

his hand alternating between rubbing soothing circles on your back and tapping you lightly to the beat of your heart, the steady motions helping to calm the blur.

“‘m sorry, sam,” you choked out between sobs.  

“don’t apologize,” sam said firmly. “you don’t even owe anyone an explanation. especially not dean.”  

you flinched at the mention of his name, fresh waves of doubt and embarrassment washing over you.  

sam seemed to sense it, his tone softening even more. “he doesn’t mean half the crap he says, you know. he’s just… dean.”  

you managed a shaky nod, though the knot in your chest didn’t fully ease.  

“hey,” sam said, tipping your chin up to look at him. “you’re okay.”

he pressed a light kiss to your forehead, the gesture warm and comforting in a way that made you tear up all over again. sam had always had a way of calming you down, knowing what was wrong and when. you were very similar in lots of ways.

inside, dean sat in the booth, fidgeting with his coffee cup.  

“where’d they go?” the waitress asked, dropping off the check.  

“outside,” dean muttered, his gaze fixed on the window.  

he watched as sam wrapped you in a hug, his jaw tightening.  

“everything okay with your girl?” the waitress asked, her tone light.  

“she’s not my girl,” dean said quickly, his voice a little sharper than he intended.  

the waitress raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further, the hint of a smile ghosting over her features.

dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. he hadn’t meant to upset you — he never did — but the sight of you crying, with sam comforting you, made something twist in his chest. he threw some cash on the table and stood, his mind racing with a mix of guilt and something else he couldn’t quite name. jealousy, maybe?  

he pushed the thought aside, heading toward the door.  

“dean?” sam’s voice cut through the noise of the diner.  

dean turned, finding his brother standing outside the far doorway, his arm still draped protectively around you.  

“give her a minute,” sam said, his expression firm.  

dean nodded, swallowing hard as he watched you lean into sam’s side.  

he retreated back and stood in the doorway of the diner, his boots scuffing against the floor as he watched you outside with sam. his jaw ticked, the familiar burn of guilt twisting in his chest.  

you’d looked so hurt when you bolted. he hadn’t meant to upset you — hell, he rarely thought before he spoke, but he hated that his careless words had made you cry.  

and then there was sam, playing the role of the comforter, his arm draped around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.  

dean hated how that made him feel. jealousy wasn’t a look he liked wearing, but damn if it wasn’t fitting him like a glove right now. he shoved his hands into his pockets, staring down at the worn linoleum. when sam finally walked you back in, dean forced himself to meet your eyes.  

you glanced at him briefly, your cheeks blotchy and red, before dropping your gaze to the floor. the pang in his chest deepened.  

sam gave him a pointed look, one that said, don’t screw this up, before gently nudging you toward the booth.  

you slid in first, keeping as much distance between you and dean as possible.  

“hey,” dean started, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “you okay?”  

“i’m fine,” you murmured, not looking up.  

the waitress returned, her cheerfulness only adding to the tension at the table.  

“ready for the check?” she asked, glancing between the three of you.  

“yeah, we’re done,” dean said gruffly, tossing some cash onto the table without counting it. “keep the change.”  

the waitress hesitated, her gaze lingering on dean for a second too long before she turned and walked away.  

sam cleared his throat. “we should probably hit the road.”  

“yeah,” dean muttered, sliding out of the booth.  

the ride back to the motel was quieter than it had ever been. the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of paper as sam reviewed the hunt notes. dean kept glancing at you in the rearview mirror, but you didn’t notice. you were too busy staring out the window, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap.  

“so,” sam said awkwardly, breaking the silence, “any ideas on how we’re gonna track this thing down?”  

dean grunted. “same as always. follow the trail, kill the thing.” 

sam shot him a look but didn’t press further.  

you stayed quiet, your thoughts miles away.  

back at the motel, you retreated to your room almost immediately, mumbling something about needing to check your notes. dean and sam both watched you go, the motel door clicking shut behind you.  

dean’s jaw tightened as the guilt settled deeper in his chest. he wasn’t used to feeling like this — so unsure, so aware of every single way he’d messed up. he rubbed a hand over his face, frustration building as he stared at the floor. he could feel sam's eyes on him, the tension thick in the air. he didn’t know how to fix it, and that made everything worse.

“dean, what the fuck? that shit you pulled at the diner… it doesn’t impress her you know. flirting with other people. christ.” sam said, his voice getting louder with every word, visibly stressing out. evidently, he’d been holding that in for a while now, waiting to get dean alone.

“i know i fucked up. okay, sam, i know.” dean snapped back.

“you’re gonna talk to her, right? you better.” sam asked, leaning against the kitchenette counter.  

“yeah,” dean muttered, running a hand through his hair. “just… give me a minute.”  

you didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the thin motel walls didn’t leave much to the imagination.  

hearing dean pacing and muttering under his breath made your stomach twist. you couldn’t make out the words, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was talking about you. the familiar voice of self-doubt crept in, louder than ever.  

he’s probably frustrated with me. i overreacted. i always overreact.

you sank onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands.  

dean knocked on your door a little later, his knuckles rapping softly against the wood.  

“hey,” he called, his voice hesitant. “you busy?”  

you hesitated, then opened the door a crack. “no.”  

he stood there, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself.  

“can we talk?” he asked.  

you nodded, stepping aside to let him in.  

he glanced around the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “listen,” he started, “about earlier…”  

you shifted nervously, not meeting his eyes.  

“i’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “i didn’t mean to upset you. i was just… being a bit of an idiot, like usual.”  

you looked up at him then, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.  

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you said quietly.  

“yeah, i did,” he admitted, his green eyes locking onto yours. “i was an ass, and you didn’t deserve that.”  

the honesty in his voice made your chest ache.  

“it’s okay,” you said, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed it.  

“it’s not,” dean insisted. “you’re… you’re important to me. and the last thing i want is to make you feel like crap.”  

your breath hitched at his words, the weight of them settling over you like a warm blanket.  

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.  

he took a step closer, his gaze searching yours. “are we okay?”  

you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

“good,” he said, the tension in his shoulders easing.  

he seemed to hesitate a little before taking another step closer, looking down at you as he seemed to study your expression. he smiled once again, a big cheesy dean smile and then after he seemed to contemplate what to do he turned on his heel after planting a soft kiss on your head. as he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d just imagined the way his eyes lingered on you, soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.  

inside his own room, dean collapsed onto the bed with a groan. he stared at the ceiling, replaying everything over in his head.  

he’d apologized, sure, but it didn’t feel like enough. not when you’d looked so… defeated. for one of the first times in his life he felt awkward, he hoped you hadn’t thought too much of the kiss, however short lived. his chest tightened at the memory of your tear-streaked face in the diner. it was like a punch to the gut every time he thought about it.  

“damn it,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.  

he hated this. hated feeling like he was losing his grip on something that mattered so much to him. because you did matter — to him, more than you probably knew. and that was the problem. he wasn’t sure how to show you without screwing it up further.  

the tension you thought was resolved seemed to linger between you and dean the next day, hanging over the group like a storm cloud. sam did his best to fill the silence, but it was clear neither of you were really in the mood to talk.  

“i’ll check out the library,” sam said finally, grabbing his bag. “you two stay here, see if you can dig up anything online.”  

dean nodded, not meeting your eyes as sam left. the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone.  

“you want the laptop?” dean asked, his voice gruff.  

you nodded, taking it from him without a word.  

he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “look, i don’t know how many more times i can say i’m sorry, but — ”  

“you don’t have to keep apologizing,” you interrupted, your voice softer than you intended. a stark contrast to his.

he blinked, caught off guard. “i just… i hate that i made you feel like that.”  

you glanced at him, your heart aching at the genuine regret in his eyes.  

“it’s okay, dean. you’ve already said sorry, i thought that was it,” you said, even though part of you wasn’t sure it really was.  

he nodded, his jaw tightening as he looked away.  

that night, dean stood outside your door again, debating whether or not to knock. he hated this distance between you two, hated feeling like he was walking on eggshells. but most of all, he hated that he didn’t know how to fix it.  

finally, he knocked, his heart pounding in his chest.  

“come in,” you called softly.  

he opened the door, hesitating in the doorway.  

“hey,” he said, his voice quiet. “you doing okay?”  

you nodded, though the tightness in your chest said otherwise.  

he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.  

“look,” he started, running a hand through his hair, “i know i’m not great at this kind of thing, but… i care about you. more than i probably should.”  

your breath caught, his words hitting you like a freight train.  

“dean, i…”  

he held up a hand, cutting you off. “just… let me say this, okay? i care about you, and i hate seeing you upset. especially if it’s because of me.”  

you swallowed hard, your chest tightening as you fought back tears.  

“you’re not just a friend to me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.  

your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in. what could he mean by that? what you’d always wished he felt for you?

“dean,” you said softly, your voice trembling, “you mean a lot to me too.”  

he looked at you, his green eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.  

“so… are we good?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.  

you nodded, a small smile breaking through the tension.  

“yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time.  

he smiled back, the tension in his shoulders finally easing fully. and for the first time in days, things between you felt like they might actually be okay.  

you weren’t sure how it happened, but somehow you and dean ended up crammed together in the tiny motel room armchair, your knees brushing his and his warmth radiating off him like a furnace.  

sam had taken off to follow a lead, leaving you and dean to man the research front. but the computer battery had died, the coffee had gone cold, and now you were both lazily flipping through books neither of you were really reading.  

dean tilted his head, watching you as you squinted at the small print. “you always make that face when you read?”  

“what face?” you asked, looking up at him.  

“that cute little scrunched-up thing,” he said, a teasing grin spreading across his face.  

your stomach flipped, and you ducked your head, suddenly very interested in the book in your lap. “i don’t scrunch my face.”  

“yeah, you do,” he said, leaning closer. “like this.”  

he exaggerated a dramatic squint, furrowing his brow and twisting his mouth into something ridiculous.  

you couldn’t help it — you giggled, the sound soft and bubbling out of you before you could stop it.  

dean grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself. “there it is,” he said, his voice warm.  

for a moment, everything felt easy, natural, like the awkwardness and tension of the past few days had melted away. but then your eyes caught the faint smear of grease on his hand, and your mind drifted.  

you thought back to the first time you’d realized you had a crush on dean winchester.  

it had been a quiet night in the bunker, just the two of you tinkering with the impala. he’d handed you a wrench, his hand brushing yours, and you’d felt it — a spark, like a live wire connecting the two of you.  

he’d smiled at you then, soft and genuine, and it had made your heart race.  

you’d brushed it off at first, chalking it up to admiration or something equally benign. but the more time you spent with him, the more you realized it was something else entirely.  

you’d fallen for him — hard.  

and it wasn’t just his looks, though you’d be lying if you said those green eyes and that cocky grin didn’t make your knees weak. it was everything about him: the way he protected the people he cared about, the way he laughed, the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and still managed to crack a joke.  

but he’d never see you that way. how could he? you were just… you.  

and then there was the size difference. it wasn’t something you normally thought about, but around dean, it was impossible to ignore. he was tall, broad-shouldered, and solid in a way that made you feel both safe and utterly self-conscious.  

you, on the other hand, felt small in comparison — too small, too quiet, too unsure of yourself to ever catch his attention.  

“hey,” dean said, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “you good?”  

“yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile.  

“you sure? you spaced out there for a second.”  

“just tired,” you lied.  

he didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs out in front of him.  

dean wasn’t immune to overthinking either, though he’d never admit it out loud. he’d had a thing for you for what felt like forever, but he’d always convinced himself it was a bad idea.  

you were shy, sweet, and way too good for someone like him. besides, he didn’t want to scare you off — not when having you around was one of the few things that made the job bearable.  

so he kept his feelings to himself, content to just be your friend, even if it killed him a little every time you smiled at him like he hung the moon.  

but there were moments — moments like now, with you sitting so close, your leg brushing his and your eyes darting to his every so often — that made it damn near impossible to keep his cool.  

“you know,” he said, his voice low, “you don’t have to keep everything to yourself.”  

you blinked at him, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”  

“i mean… you can talk to me,” he said, his gaze steady. “about anything.”  

your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice.  

“i know,” you said softly.  

he smiled at that, a small, lopsided grin that made your chest feel warm.  

“good,” he said, leaning forward slightly.  

the proximity made your breath hitch, your eyes locking onto his for a moment that felt like it stretched on forever. but then the moment passed, and he leaned back again, running a hand through his hair.  

later that night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, your thoughts wandered again.  

you thought about all the little things dean did — how he always walked on the side closest to traffic, how he made sure you ate on hunts, how he was quick to tease but just as quick to defend you if anyone else tried.  

he cared about you. you knew that much.  

but as a friend, or something more?  

the uncertainty gnawed at you, and you rolled onto your side, pulling the blanket tighter around you.  

dean wasn’t faring much better. he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, his mind racing.  

he thought about all the times he’d come close to saying something, only to chicken out at the last second.  

he thought about the way you’d looked at him earlier, like you were trying to figure him out. he thought about how often he fucked up infront of you, trying to distract himself from his silly crush only to regret it afterwards. and he thought about the way you made him feel — like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as broken as he thought he was.  

“screw it,” he muttered under his breath, standing up and heading for your door.  

a knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, startling you. you sat up in bed, heart thudding.  

“it’s me,” dean’s voice came softly from the other side, muffled but familiar.  

“come in,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.  

the door creaked open, and dean stepped inside, his movements careful. he closed the door behind him quietly, as if not wanting to disturb the stillness of the night.  

“i couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar way, his gaze briefly flicking to yours before darting away.  

“yeah, me neither,” you murmured, fingers twisting the edge of the blanket draped over your lap.  

he hesitated for a moment, standing awkwardly near the door before crossing the room and sitting down on the edge of your bed. the mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.  

finally, dean broke the silence. “so i’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice quiet but deliberate. “about us.”  

your stomach flipped, your pulse quickening as his words hung in the air. “us?” you echoed, barely audible.  

he nodded, his jaw working like he was trying to find the right words. “you mean a lot to me,” he said finally, his voice rough around the edges. “more than i’ve ever really let on. i regret that.”

your breath caught, your chest tightening at the quiet vulnerability in his tone.  

“dean…” you began, but he held up a hand, his eyes meeting yours fully now.  

“let me say this,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “i’ve spent so much time trying to keep things simple, to keep things from getting messy. but with you…” he trailed off, his expression softening as he searched your face. “it’s never been simple. and i wouldn’t want it to be.”  

his words hit you like a punch to the gut — raw, honest, and so undeniably him.  

“i don’t know if i’m any good at this,” he admitted, his hand brushing yours where it rested on the blanket. the touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a shiver up your spine. “but i want to try. if you’ll let me.”  

your heart raced, a thousand emotions swirling inside you. “dean, you don’t have to…”  

“i want to,” he interrupted, his voice steady. “i care about you. more than i probably should. and i don’t want to keep pretending like that’s not true.”  

your hand was fully engulfed in his now. you swallowed hard, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. he looked at you, his green eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.  

dean’s gaze flickered, his lips parting slightly before he closed them again, his hesitation palpable. his other hand hovered near yours, fingers brushing faintly, the touch so light it was almost imagined. the space between you seemed to shrink on its own, the weight of the moment settling over both of you. his eyes lingered, tracing the lines of your face as if memorizing every detail.  

his fingers shifted closer, finally grazing yours with deliberate care. the air grew warmer, each heartbeat louder than the last, as if the world itself held its breath, waiting.

“can i…?” he started, his voice trailing off as he leaned slightly closer, his gaze dropping to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes.  

you nodded, unable to find your voice, your chest tight with anticipation.  

his hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing against your skin as he leaned in. his lips met yours softly, testing, like he was afraid to push too far. but when you didn’t pull away, he pressed a little closer, his warmth grounding you.

the moment his lips met yours, the world seemed to tilt. his kiss was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. your fingers clutched at his shirt, the fabric bunching beneath your grip as a quiet whimper escaped you.  

dean groaned in response, the sound low and rough, reverberating against your lips. it sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing hotter. his other hand found your waist, firm but gentle, anchoring you to him. his thumb traced the curve of your jaw as he deepened the kiss, his touch igniting something that left you breathless.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes half-lidded and his breathing slightly uneven.  

“i’ve wanted to do that for so damn long,” he confessed, his voice low and filled with something you couldn’t quite name.  

“me too,” you whispered, your cheeks flushed and your heart pounding.  

he chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting. “guess we’re both a little stubborn, huh?”  

you smiled, a weight lifting off your chest as his words settled into your heart. “maybe just a little.”  

dean’s fingers traced the edge of your jaw, his touch lingering as if he wasn’t ready to let go. “you’re fuckin’ awesome, you know that?” he said softly, his voice almost reverent. 

you giggled quietly, the sound light and easy. “if i’m fuckin’ awesome, what are you?” you said, mimicking his much deeper voice,

he smirked, his expression softening as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “just lucky,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet sincerity that made your chest ache in the best way. 

ᰔ dean winchester : @person-005, @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

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[artyandink]

maine coon

Summary: Dean initially hated your small touches. He used to feel weird with them on his skin. But now he craves them. He craves the high of feeling like a human, and you’re the best hit he’s ever had.

TW: Mentions of borderline dehumanisation (cause we hate John guys for making those two beautiful boys soldiers/mindless machines), two idiots in love, tooth rotting fluff! Thought up this little drabble :)

A/N - Maine coon because they’re a very friendly cat breed! Plus, a little comfort for Dean cause he needs it :) set in s1

Little touches.

It started like that. Just small brushes of your hand on his shoulder and ruffling of Sam’s hair. The younger Winchester would brush you off politely, fix his hair but wear an affectionate smile anyway.

Not Dean.

Dean would grumble, pout angrily, act as if he was wiping off the invisible trail your hands left and claim that he wasn’t a baby. All at first. But slowly, like an ice lolly in the sun, slowly melting, he found himself less inclined to brush you off. He’d get jumpy and irritable if you didn’t show him that affection for too long. He even found his nightmares appearing less frequently after being lulled to sleep with his head in your lap, your fingers in his hair because he couldn’t sleep.

You slept better too, knowing he was ok and he was able to turn to you, even though it was wordless. All it took was a flash of puppy eyes and you knew what he needed. The comfort that he deserved, after working himself to the bone protecting Sammy and you like his father taught him. Like a good soldier.

He didn’t feel like that with you.

Sleep was gently coaxed out of him by the sensation of nails on his scalp, a groan muffled by his face in his pillow as he instantly recognised the cool sensation of the ring on your finger as your hand smoothed down his hair. “Wake up, Dean.” You murmured softly, your thumb tracing his ear, and he almost smiled at the sensation. Almost.

The aroma of coffee hit his lungs, and when your hand ran down to gently press against his shoulders and massaging down to his shoulder blades, he didn’t feel so inclined to sleep further. So he sat up. He wanted to see you, your gorgeous face, with the eyes that told a thousand stories and those lips that were worth a thousand dollars when they were pursed in anger. Which only came out when someone hurt him or Sam.

He didn’t feel like he had a sword and shield in his hand in moments like these. Instead, he had a warm cup of coffee and your hand briefly petting his hair, which he leaned into before it even touched his head. “Mornin’.” He rasped out, voice crackly and hoarse from the morning, smacking his lips to get the morning taste off before taking the first heavenly hit of caffeine. And relishing in the aftershocks of the second euphoric high of your touch. “S’some damn good coffee, darlin’.”

“Black, two spoons o’ sugar, and a dash of beer.” You gave him a small smile as you stood up and moved to the kitchenette of your small motel room, looking beautiful to Dean even in your oversized shirt and sleep shorts, complete with black ankle socks. You had bed head that you were yet to sort out, but Dean was dazzled by the halo he could see over your head.

His mom said angels were watching over him. Maybe this is what she meant.

“Just how you like it.” You added, working to make some breakfast. The smell of cooking eggs and frying bacon filled the space, a small smile on your face as you contently cooked food for the man who was approaching you, coffee cup raising to his lips as his eyes followed you like a lost puppy. The cup clinked as it was set down on the counter, Dean’s tongue darting out to lick his lips before biting the bottom one as he tentatively made his way over to rest his chin on your shoulder from behind, his eyes closing slowly like a cat when your hand reached behind to gently play with his hair.

“Smells nice.” He murmured, almost like a purr as he leaned into your touch.

You chuckled, your fingers rubbing over the silky, spiky strands of his morning hedgehog hair. “That’s ‘cause I’m an amazing cook.”

“I don’t deserve you.�� Dean added with a contented groan, wanting so badly to tell you how he felt. So much that it was threatening to burst out of his chest.

“What did I tell you about saying that?” You chastised, piling his plate with a bit extra of everything that he liked before sliding it closer to him. “C’mon, eat.”

“Thanks.” He cupped your cheeks, leaning in.

It was meant to be a simple kiss on the forehead. That’s all it was meant to be. But by some miracle (or maybe his eternal bad luck), his lips pressed against yours. Soft, slow, sweet. He puckered up, eyebrows raising in surprise, his eyelashes fluttering but staying closed before he decided to pull himself away, but it felt like yanking. Tugging. Practically peeling himself off, cause he didn’t want to let go.

His eyes didn’t open for at least a few second. But when he did, he saw yours. Your shining eyes, with a small, amused smile on your lips. Your gorgeous lips, that he just wanted to see swollen with all the kisses and love he could give you.

“What was that for?” Came your voice, quiet and docile as you looked at him in a way that only you could. Only you.

“I don’t know.” He murmured, eyes flicking to your lips again, itching for that high again. That hit. So he let himself taste you again, let himself lose his way in the labyrinth that came with your hand on the side of his neck and his cradling your cheek. The taste of coffee, the different ways you both liked it sweetening your palettes in a beautiful mix of sweet, sour and alcohol. The smell of old leather gracing you while the scent of your lavender body wash flooded him and sent him past cloud nine.

You pulled back slowly, because you also wanted to savour him. But when you saw the look on his face, his slightly swollen lips and the way they were parted in awe, you couldn’t help but melt and thumb his bottom lip.

“I think…” You paused to kiss his cheek softly, whispering against it, “I think I know.”

Make sure to leave feedback, everyone! I’d appreciate reblogs, likes and comments!

TAGLIST: @k-slla

[arjwrites]

arj's 100 follower event xoxoxo <333

hi everyone! thanks so much for 100 followers and welcome to my 100 follower event! i have a fun little idea in store!! this event is open to everyone so request away!!! also trying out a new theme with this post- hope you like it hehehe

the event: over the last few weeks, i've been working on THIS 100 SONG PLAYLIST to celebrate 100 followers! each song has given me some sort of inspiration for a supernatural x reader fic. listen, scroll through and pick your favorite, OR if you're feeling dangerous, put the playlist on shuffle and choose the first song that comes up!! i'll be writing short-ish drabbles for each request <3

the rules: send me: - a song from the playlist - a supernatural character - gn! or fem!reader - any other details you want me to include - NOTE: my regular request rules apply! this event is primarily sfw, but i'll dabble in some spice. minors/ageless blogs/anons pls keep requests sfw!!

i'll update this post with song and character pairings that have been chosen, but feel free to request a song again if you'd like it to be written with a different character! (edit: find all past requests HERE!)

thanks again for 1-0-0 followers everyone! it may seem small but it means the world to me. i hope you all enjoy the event, and i can't wait to write your requests!!!

[yet-another-deanw-girl]

Chapter 19: You again!

She knew for 15 years that this day would come. She knew her destiny had already been written. That her death had been foretold.

She knew she would have to stop him. She knew she would have to kill him. And she thought she was prepared for all of it. But the day she met him she realized how wrong she was…

Set in Season 10

Pairing: MoC!Dean x Female!OC

Warnings: the usual SPN, language

Episode mapping: During episode 17 of season 10 "Inside Man"

Note: The events of this story are following season 10 of Supernatural and are taking place between October 2014 and July 2015. I tried to make sure that all the references to weapons, tech, etc. are accurate with the time period.

AN: This is my first time writing a fanfic but the story has been in my head for too long and it just needed to get out. I hope you like it.

AN: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

I slowly descend the bunker's stairs, gripping the railing to keep my balance.  My head is throbbing…  Fucking hangover! That's why I don't drink!

GIF from Pinterest

"Just on time!" Sam says coming from the library. " Let's go!" "Where?" "I need to check out something." "Where is Dean?" "He called to tell me he is running some errands in town. Come now. We don't have much time." "Can I at least get coffee first?" "Can we take the Jeep?" Sam counters me. "Yes, but you are driving." Just now he looks closely at me and raises his brows. "You ok?" He asks. "I feel like I was hit by a truck… twice…" "Are you hungover?" He muses. "I thought you didn't drink." "I don't… Last night was an exception. The only exception."

He sits in the driver's side of the Jeep, adjusting the seat. I offer him the key when I climb next to him. "Actually…" I pull back the key and I press my finger next to the ignition. "Jarvis, say hello to Sam." "Entering a new biometric signature." The car's computer answers. "Please, state your full name." I make a gesture for Sam to reply. "Sam Winchester." "Voice pattern saved. Please put your hands on the steering wheel." Sam obeys every command the computer gives him. I show him how to work with the dashboard and then I lead him to the truck to explain the equipment.

Created with Microsoft Designer

"Here you go!" I say to him, finally giving him the key. "It is yours." "What?"  He asks, confused. "Why?" "I've meant to do this for a while." "But why?" "Just take it and say thank you!" I snap at him. My head is still hurting. He starts the engine and drives out of the garage without saying another word.

"Jarvis… Really?" He says after an hour driving in silence. "You are such a nerd." "I never said otherwise." I chuckle.

Sam parks the Jeep by the side of the road, behind Cas' car and he goes to talk to him. I desid to wait in the car, since my head is still throbbing a little. I'm way better than I was in the morning and the burger I ate on the way helped a lot.

"What are we doing here, anyway?" I ask Sam. "We need Metatron's help." "Because you think Metatron might have information about The Mark of Cain?" "I know he has." "Are you sure, though?" We are approaching a playground when a man stops us.  Not a man.  An angel.  Four of them.  And they are not happy to see us.  And… definitely not letting us talk to The Scribe of God. "Cas, let's go." Sam pulls the angel away. "What? We're leaving?" "Yeah, we can't fight off four angels." "So… so what? You just want to give up on Metatron?" Castiel protests. "No, we need him. Time for plan 'B'... We break him out."

We are walking down a dark street toward a house. "So, back in the '50s, Oliver Pryce was a kid psychic." Sam fills us in. "He performed everywhere… carnivals, Atlantic City… you name it. He was the real deal. Now, The Men of Letters were teaching him how to control his powers when they got… you know."

"Mr. Pryce? This is Sam…" "Winchester. You're Sam Winchester, Man of Letters." A bald man opens the door. "Yeah. How did you, uh..." "Mind reader, remember? And you're... What are you?" The psychic asks Cas. "I'm an Angel." "That... No, you can't be." "Why not?" Cas asks, really confused by the man's statement. "Because I'm an atheist." I burst into laughter. That is the most ridiculous statement I have ever heard. "Not anymore." Sam says passing by Mr. Pryce, entering the house. "And you…" The old man looks sadly at me. "What happened to you?" "I'll just stay outside." I'm quick to interrupt him. "Oh… no, no, no! Someone can see you standing there. And then… they will all start knowing on my door. No, no, no!" He pulls me instead. "You can wait here." He points to an armchair for me to sit.

Sam, Castiel, and Mr. Pryce are sitting around a table with candles on it. Sam's plan is to contact some old friend named Bobby, who died a while back. By the way he is talking about the man, I believe he was more than a friend… more like a father to him and Dean. So… Cas is explaining the plan to Bobby and I'm sitting in the corner the entire time. "I like her!" The psychic says when they are done. "She is smart and funny and really sassy, despite her dark thoughts!" Sam looks at me and then at the psychic. "She was wondering if the angels had changed the place of the door to Earth in the last 50-60 years." The bald man shrugs. "Metatron changed it to be behind door 42 when he was in charge of Heaven." Castiel answers. "And they call me a nerd!" I laugh out loud. "What?" Cas is confused once again. "I'll explain it later." Sam says and gets up from the table. "You will need to talk to that young lady as soon as possible." I hear Mr. Pryce says to Sam, just before he shuts the door behind us. Yeah… we will need to talk.

I splash water on my face and when I look at the mirror my eyes flash black for a second… Panic fills my chests and I blink at my reflection.  No!  I'm not giving up control.  Not yet!  Not until I'm sure Emilia will be ok.

"Been waiting for you." I say to the demon when he finally appears. I expect him to start a fight, to try to kill me, like his mother tried just an hour ago. "Squirrel." He just retorts.

GIF from Pinterest

"Look, I'm not saying that I didn't want to slice and dice the witch. I'm just saying that that's not how it went down." We are sitting in the empty bar. "So she's a liar." "Must run in the family." "Mother says The Mark is just a curse, can be removed. Of course, she doesn't know how." "Figures." I pour myself another drink. "But I'm good, thanks." "Who's the liar now?" Crowley frowns.

"What do you know about…" I hesitate for a second but I clear my throat and ask the question that was bugging me for a while. "What do you know about soulmates?" Crowley looks at me with a question in his eyes. "Is this bullshit real?" I ask. "Well… yeah… It is… but it's rare, as far as I know. Why don't you ask Castiel? It's more in his line of work since it's Heaven's way to arrange their perfect future heroes." He is quiet for a moment, then he continues. "Actually… I’m kinda surprised they haven't hooked you and Moose up with your own already… Imagine… the poor girls… they will be dead in a week…" I do not answer him, do not even look at him… "Oh! Bloody hell! They did! Didn't they!"

Cas walks through the portal with Metatron. Well… it turns out, the angel was trying to play us out until he could escape. He knows nothing about The Mark. He has no idea how to remove it.  I'm not surprised but I keep my comments to myself. There is no point of told-you-so-s. But the sneaky angel manages to convince Cas he can take him to what's left of his grace.

"So… why did the psychic insist that I need to talk to you as soon as possible?"  Sam asks me.  We are going back to the bunker. He is driving and I'm just staring through the window in the rain. "We had run out of time." I breathe out. "It can happen at any moment now…" He looks at me confused, trying to keep his eyes on the road at the same time. It takes him a moment to understand what I'm talking about.  "But you said…" He starts but then looks at me again, finally catching up. "It was your birthday yesterday…" I turn around staring at the rain again.  I don't need to see the hate returning into his eyes. I'm the enemy again.

"Hey." Sam greets his brother. "Hey. How was the movie?" "French." The younger Winchester lies. "What about you? What did you do last night?" "Played some pool. It was kind of boring." Dean is lying too. He is definitely hiding something. But we all are…

I decide to wait for an hour before entering the bunker. It's obvious that Sam doesn't want Dean to know where we were. Or that we were together. Well… there is no point in telling him if Metatron doesn't know anything.  So… I'm standing outside in the dark trying to get in peace with my fate once more… Hope is a dangerous thing…

"Look who decided to come home! Did you have fun?" Dean smiles at me but there is a bitterness in his tone. "Kinda…"  He is looking to start an argument but I have no strength left in me for it. "So… Sophie!? Another alias?" He pokes. "Aham…" I mumble. "And this guy… Thomas… was it? Another ex fiancé?" He continues to push the subject. "No… just a simple undercover job… in and out… just four or five days… nothing too complicated…" I quickly answer and hurry to my room, not wanting to deal with lying anymore today.

Chapter 20: Games >>

||The Prophecy Series||

[samanddeansannoyingsis]

Made a masterlist of my fics bc I decided to get organized! Look at me go!

Here's some music to set the mood...

And let's see for some organization...

Oneshot- ❤️

Headcannons - 💙

Idea im working on- 💛

Supernatural!

Dean Winchester

Just Friends? - Dean x reader - 💛

Calm Down - Dean x reader - ❤️ (I apologize I was a young writer, may be rewriten)

Sam Winchester

Wake Me Up When September Ends - Sam x Reader - 💛

Fuckin_Nerd- College!Sam X Reader ❤️

Castiel

Castiel Acts of Service  - ❤️

Gabriel

Heaven and Earth - Gabriel x reader - ❤️

Marvel

Natasha Romanov

Sleepy Reader headcanons - Natasha x reader - 💙

[bearwriting]

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Green Eyes: Based on the song "Green Eyes" by Joseph.

Rest Day: Everyone needs some time to rest after a hunt.

Time Apart: It's been years since you and Dean have seen each other. What happens when you finally see each other again?