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zepskies · 1 year ago

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Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor.

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad.��Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile.

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time).

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea.

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up.

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.”

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable.

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth.

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful.

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out.

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed.

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense.

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said.

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean could only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.

“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him.

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Keep Reading: PART 3

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

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theriddlersunderwear · 4 months ago

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All of My Supernatural Related Playlists:

(Psst, Sunny is an OC from a fanfic I'm writing please ask about her before I explode autistically)

#gabriel supernatural #lucifer supernatural #jack kline #castiel #castiel x dean #destiel #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam x gabriel #sabriel #crowley spn #crowley x reader #chuck shurley #nick spn #spnfandom #arthur ketch #Arthur ketch x reader #belphegor spn #Spotify

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artyandink · 8 days ago

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amoralism | eighteen

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: smut, angst, reader’s mad at Sam for a bit, death

Song Inspo: River - Bishop Briggs

SERIES MASTERLIST

erraticism

The kitchen was warm, the kind of warmth that came from both the stovetop’s steady heat and the familiar pull of old memories, memories that held Dean’s face like a watermark on every corner of your heart. You’d told yourself you’d make it through this evening, get through one meal, without breaking down. It was, you reasoned, just a meal—no hidden meanings, no sentimental attachment, just food. You were cooking for Sam, his kids, maybe even yourself, if you could stomach it.

A half-sliced onion sat in front of you, blurred slightly by the tears that had managed to sneak past your resolve. The chopping board bore the aftermath of a few haphazard cuts, and for once, you didn’t care about the details. As you brushed your wrist against your cheek, wiping away the evidence, you heard the quiet creak of the kitchen door. A pair of footsteps crossed the linoleum. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice came softly from behind you. There was a hesitation in his tone, a wariness that only someone like Sam would notice—someone who saw the tension in the set of your shoulders, someone who knew the silent language of hurt.

“Hey,” you murmured, voice wavering. You swallowed hard, trying to disguise the tremble as just another cough. But your heart was pounding now, because in Sam’s presence, the flimsy walls you’d built against the loneliness started crumbling all over again.

Sam shifted, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him glance down at the mess on the cutting board, the half-prepared meal you were putting together for his family. He said nothing about the onions, or the tears, or the fact that he’d seen you wipe your face a second ago. Instead, he cleared his throat softly.

"You, uh… need a hand?” he offered, his tone careful.

You shook your head quickly, staring down at the countertop, hands gripping the edge of the cutting board as if it were a lifeline. “No,” you said, a little too quickly. “I’m fine. Just trying to… get this done.”

Sam’s silence filled the kitchen, thick and heavy. Then he took a step closer, close enough that you felt the warmth radiating from his presence, steady and calm. Sam, the rock, the one who never wavered. You almost hated him for it, because even now, even when he was standing there watching you unravel, he was steady.

“I know you miss him,” Sam said quietly, his voice barely more than a murmur. “I miss him, too.”

The words were simple, but they hit you like a punch to the gut. Your hand slipped on the knife, and you felt the sting before you saw the thin line of red blossoming on your fingertip. You cursed under your breath, but Sam was there in an instant, grabbing a paper towel and pressing it gently to your hand. He held it there, his fingers brushing against yours, grounding you in a way that felt too painful to bear.

You could have told him, right then, that it wasn’t just missing Dean. It was the hollow, aching emptiness that gnawed at you every day, the feeling that some part of yourself had been ripped away and left bleeding. But the words stayed trapped in your throat, strangled by the weight of everything you hadn’t said, everything you hadn’t let yourself feel.

“Why did he leave, Sam?” you whispered, the question slipping out before you could stop it. Your voice was raw, edged with anger and heartbreak. “He just… vanished. No explanation, nothing. How could he do that?”

Sam was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the floor. He let out a long, slow breath, as if he’d been holding it in for far too long. When he finally looked up, there was something in his eyes—something haunted, something that hurt just to look at.

“He didn’t want to leave,” Sam said, his voice barely a whisper. “But… he didn’t have a choice.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling heavily on your chest. “What are you talking about?”

Sam hesitated, and you could see the conflict flickering across his face, a struggle that he was clearly losing. He looked at you, his gaze piercing, as if he was finally letting you see something he’d kept hidden for far too long.

“He’s undercover,” Sam said finally, the words tumbling out in a rush. “With Hell.”

The room seemed to freeze around you, the air thick and suffocating. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of his words, but they felt like shards of glass, cutting and splintering with each second. “Undercover?” you repeated, barely able to wrap your mind around it. “With… Hell?”

Sam nodded, his expression grim. “He’s been… posing as one of them. A Knight of Hell. It was the only way he could get close enough to take them down from the inside. It was a… high-risk mission. The kind you don’t come back from easily.”

The world tilted, and you had to brace yourself against the counter, your hand shaking as you struggled to process the words. It didn’t make sense. Dean—your Dean—working with Hell? Pretending to be one of them, playing a part so dangerous that he’d had to disappear, to cut you out of his life completely.

“He didn’t tell me.” Your voice was barely a whisper, but you could feel the fury bubbling up inside you, the betrayal like a poison in your veins. “He didn’t even tell me.”

Sam’s gaze dropped, and you could see the guilt etched into every line of his face. “He thought it would be safer,” he said quietly. “He didn’t want you to get hurt. And… he thought it would be easier if you didn’t know.”

“Easier?” The word slipped out like a snarl, laced with all the anger and heartbreak that had been festering inside you for months. “Easier for who, Sam? For him? For you?” You pushed him away, the paper towel falling from your cut finger as you took a shaky step back. “He just… he left me, Sam. He vanished, and you let me think he didn’t care. You let me believe I wasn’t enough.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and painful, and for a moment, Sam looked as if he’d been struck. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing came out. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unbearable.

“He thought he was protecting you,” Sam said finally, his voice hoarse. “He didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want you to… suffer.”

You laughed, but it was a bitter, hollow sound, echoing off the walls of the kitchen. “Well, congratulations, Sam. Mission accomplished. I didn’t suffer at all, did I?” The tears were hot against your cheeks, and you could feel the anger trembling inside you, ready to explode. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like? To wonder every single day why I wasn’t enough to make him stay?”

Sam’s face crumpled, and he took a step toward you, his hand reaching out as if to offer some kind of comfort. But you stepped back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, a barrier between you and the man who had kept this terrible secret.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said softly, his voice breaking. “I thought… I thought it would be better this way. But I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

You wanted to forgive him, wanted to let go of the anger and the hurt, but the betrayal was too fresh, too raw. You felt as if you’d been ripped open, your heart laid bare, bleeding and vulnerable. And in that moment, you couldn’t see past the pain.

Without another word, you turned and left the kitchen, the half-prepared meal forgotten on the counter, the smell of onions and garlic mingling with the bitterness in the air. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

Because the truth was, you weren’t sure you could forgive Sam. And as for Dean… you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to look at him the same way again.

The abandoned parking lot was desolate, a stretch of cracked asphalt bathed in cold, dim streetlight. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the distant hum of the city that felt a world away. You spotted him immediately, standing in the shadows by an old Chevy, hands shoved in his pockets, head bowed as if he were deep in thought. But he knew you were there—you could tell by the way he shifted, just slightly, just enough to let you know he’d been waiting.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. The anger simmered beneath the surface, roiling through every vein, every heartbeat, every breath. But even as you approached, that familiar ache spread through your chest, warring with the fury that had driven you here.

“Dean,” you called, your voice sharper than you’d intended. He looked up, and for a split second, his face was raw, open, vulnerable. Then his expression hardened, that wall you knew too well slipping into place. He was so good at building walls, at hiding behind that tough, sardonic exterior, but you weren’t here to let him hide.

“Figured you’d find me eventually,” he said, the words almost casual, like you were meeting up for a drink rather than tracking him down in the dead of night. His voice was gruff, edged with something unreadable, but there was a flicker in his eyes—a flicker of guilt, maybe regret, though he hid it well.

“Eventually?” The word shot out like a bullet. “You were planning on just… waiting until then, huh? Leaving me to keep wondering why I wasn’t enough for you to stay?”

Dean’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. It was a familiar gesture, one that usually made you soften, but tonight it only fueled the fire burning inside you.

“What do you want me to say?” he muttered, his voice low, almost defeated.

“I want you to tell me the truth, Dean!” The words came out louder than you intended, echoing off the empty lot. “I gave you everything I had. Everything. And you just… walked away. Left me without a single word, like I meant nothing to you.”

He winced at that, just a flicker, but you caught it. He could pretend all he wanted, but you knew him too well. You knew the man behind the bravado, the one who felt too deeply, cared too much, even if he would never admit it.

“It wasn’t like that,” he said, his voice softer now, the edges smoothed out. But he didn’t meet your gaze, his eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“Then what was it like?” You stepped closer, refusing to let him retreat into his own silence. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you lied to me. Like you decided what was best for me without ever giving me a say. Like you didn’t trust me enough to let me in.”

His mouth opened, then closed, his throat working as if he were struggling to find the right words. “It wasn’t about trust. I was trying to protect you.”

You laughed, a hollow, bitter sound that seemed to hang in the cold night air. “Protect me? By disappearing? By letting me think I didn’t mean anything to you?”

“It was the only way I knew how,” he said, the words tumbling out like a confession he’d been holding onto for far too long. He ran a hand over his face, looking exhausted, like he’d been carrying the weight of this lie for so long it had become part of him. “You don’t know what it’s like… the things I’ve seen, the people I’ve lost. I couldn’t let that happen to you, sweetheart. Not you, not when I finally had you.”

“Dean, I would have gone with you,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper, the truth of it raw and undeniable. “I would have stayed by your side, no matter what. But you didn’t even give me the chance, you lost me again.”

He shook his head, finally meeting your gaze, and the pain in his eyes was a mirror of your own. “You deserve better than this,” he said, his voice rough, almost angry. “Better than me. Better than this… life you had with me. I’m not worth it, you hear me?”

“Maybe that’s not for you to decide,” you shot back, and the words hung between you, sharp and unyielding. You took another step closer, close enough that you could see the way his hands were clenched at his sides, the tension radiating from him like a physical force. “Maybe I loved it, maybe I wanted us, even if it’s fucking corny!”

The silence stretched between you, thick and charged, neither of you willing to break it. But you couldn’t hold back anymore, couldn’t keep all of it inside. “I gave you everything, Dean,” you said, your voice breaking. “I loved you, and you just… ripped yourself away like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.”

For a moment, he looked shattered, like your words had cut him to the bone. He opened his mouth, as if to argue, to defend himself, but then he stopped, his shoulders sagging as if he were carrying the weight of a thousand regrets.

And then, without warning, he closed the distance between you, his hands reaching for you, pulling you in. Before you could react, his lips were on yours, the kiss fierce and desperate, like he was pouring all the things he couldn’t say into that single moment. It was a kiss that spoke of years of missed chances, of words left unspoken, of the love that had always simmered just beneath the surface, too dangerous to name.

You melted into him, your anger and heartbreak mingling with the overwhelming relief of finally, finally being in his arms again. His hands cupped your face, his touch gentle despite the desperation in his kiss, and for a brief, fleeting moment, everything else fell away—the lies, the pain, the betrayal. All that mattered was the way he held you, like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers if he let go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, you could feel his breath coming in shallow gasps, his heart pounding in sync with your own. His hands stayed on your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had slipped free, his gaze searching yours with a vulnerability that took your breath away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words rough and broken. “I’m so damn sorry. I thought… I thought this was the only way to keep you safe.”

You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself, to hold onto the anger that was rapidly crumbling beneath the weight of his touch. “Dean, I didn’t need you to protect me. I just needed you to let me in.”

He let out a shaky breath, his hands falling to his sides as if he’d run out of strength, out of excuses. “I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “But I didn’t know how. I still don’t.”

You reached for him, your fingers finding his, lacing together in a silent promise. “Then let’s figure it out. Together. Please?”

For a moment, he looked at you like you were something he’d never dared to hope for, something he’d believed he could never have. And then he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you, holding you as if he were afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear.

The anger and hurt hadn’t vanished; they were still there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting to be addressed. But for now, in his arms, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way forward. Because despite everything, despite the lies and the pain, you still loved him. And maybe that was enough.

“Thank you, sweet girl.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, cradling it. “You didn’t give up on me.”

Title: The Devil’s Due

The warehouse was dark, its windows clouded with years of dust and grime. Outside, thunder rolled in the distance, casting a grim tone over the night. You, Dean, and Sam were hidden in the shadows of a forgotten industrial part of town, a place where no one would look twice at a gunshot, let alone the storm that was about to unfold. This was it—the night you’d been planning for months, the moment where every move, every risk would come to a head.

You looked over at Dean, who was busy checking his guns, his expression the usual mixture of casual and focused, a look you knew all too well. Sam, meanwhile, was pacing a little, more serious, his eyes scanning the warehouse perimeter. He was already in mission mode, a study in steely calm. But Dean, as always, looked like he was just here for a good time.

He caught you watching him and gave you one of those infuriatingly cocky grins. “See something you like?”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes but unable to keep the smirk off your face. “You wish.”

Dean’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Can’t blame a guy for hoping, can you?”

“You two,” Sam cut in, though you could see the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement. “Can you just get this out of your system now?”

“Hey, if you can’t have a little fun before a firefight with the devil himself, what’s the point?” Dean replied, slinging his rifle over his shoulder with that easy, practiced motion that always seemed to come naturally to him.

“Right,” you said, crossing your arms as you looked him up and down. “Big talk for the guy who’s pretty much a magnet for bullet wounds.”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry about me. Worry about how we’re gonna celebrate after this,” he replied, lowering his voice just enough to make your pulse jump. “Once we’re back in one piece, that is.”

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll have to save you just to shut you up,” you muttered, but your voice softened, the challenge sparking something undeniable between you. It was the same thing that had been simmering for years, flickering just beneath the surface, always on the verge of tipping over.

Sam rolled his eyes but grinned. “How did I get stuck with the two of you again?”

“Hey, Sammy, you love us. Admit it,” Dean said, flashing his brother a wide grin.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get this done,” Sam muttered, shaking his head, but there was a warmth in his tone, a certain relief in having both of you by his side. No matter what happened tonight, the three of you were in this together, just as you always had been.

The plan was simple but risky—lure Lucifer and his men to the far end of the warehouse, separate them, and take out Lucifer before he had the chance to retaliate. It had taken months to get close enough, months of careful planning and coordination. But tonight, it would finally pay off.

As you moved into position, the silence stretched, tense and expectant. Every sound seemed magnified—the click of your gun, the shuffling of feet, the low hum of anticipation in the air. Then you heard it, footsteps echoing down the hall. Lucifer’s team was moving in.

Dean’s eyes met yours from across the shadowed aisle, his expression shifting into something deadly serious, the playfulness vanishing. You gave him a small nod, your fingers tightening around your weapon. This was it.

The first gunshot rang out like a crack of lightning, splitting the silence. Chaos erupted as bullets tore through the air, and you ducked behind a stack of crates, adrenaline flooding your veins as you fired back. The warehouse became a battleground, the roar of gunfire echoing in every corner, a cacophony of noise and violence.

Through the haze, you caught glimpses of Dean moving with deadly precision, his eyes sharp and focused as he fired round after round, clearing a path toward Lucifer. Sam was on the other side, his gun blazing as he covered Dean’s advance, each movement practiced and coordinated.

You focused on the guards, taking down anyone who got too close, watching Dean and Sam’s backs as they moved in tandem, their unspoken bond honed from years of fighting side by side. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him—the man himself, Lucifer, standing at the far end of the warehouse, his expression smug, almost amused.

“Well, well, well,” Lucifer drawled, his voice carrying over the din of gunfire. “I have to admit, you three put on quite a show.”

Dean leveled his gun at him, his expression hard and unyielding. “This ends tonight, Lucifer.”

Lucifer laughed, the sound chilling in the darkness. “You think you can just waltz in here and take me out? Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?”

Dean’s gaze didn’t waver, his voice steady as steel. “I know exactly who you are. That’s why we’re here.”

Lucifer smirked, lifting his gun, and in that instant, the warehouse seemed to shrink, the world narrowing to just the two of them—Dean and Lucifer, predator and prey, locked in a deadly standoff.

“You’re just like your father,” Lucifer sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. “Always biting off more than you can chew. But look where that got him.”

The mention of John was like a spark to dry tinder, and you saw the flash of fury in Dean’s eyes, the anger that had been smoldering there for so long igniting into something fierce and unstoppable.

“Say one more word,” Dean growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “I dare you.”

Lucifer just laughed, his eyes filled with a twisted glee. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hit a nerve?”

And then, with a movement too quick to follow, Lucifer raised his gun. But Dean was faster. His gun fired, the shot echoing like a thunderclap, and Lucifer staggered, a look of shock and disbelief flickering across his face as he crumpled to the ground.

For a moment, everything was still, the silence thick and heavy, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. Lucifer, the man who had haunted your lives, who had torn through families, who had left a trail of destruction in his wake—was dead.

Dean lowered his gun, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath, his face a mixture of relief and exhaustion. He looked over at you, and for a moment, you just stared at each other, the weight of the victory settling over you like a heavy, bittersweet shroud.

Sam joined you, his expression grim but satisfied. “It’s over,” he said quietly, his gaze flicking between you and Dean.

Dean let out a low, shaky laugh, running a hand over his face. “Yeah. It’s over.”

The three of you stood there, side by side, the warehouse silent around you, and in that moment, you knew that whatever came next, you’d face it together. Because this wasn’t just a victory—it was a promise, a reminder of everything you’d fought for, everything you’d lost, and everything you’d gained.

And as Dean’s hand found yours, squeezing gently, you felt a warmth blossom in your chest, a flicker of hope that, for the first time in a long time, felt like it might be real.

The drive back to Sam’s house was quiet, the kind of silence that settles in after a storm, heavy with both relief and exhaustion. After months of planning and nights wondering if you’d ever see an end to it all, Lucifer was gone. And now, there was nothing left but to go home.

Dean kept his hands steady on the wheel, his gaze fixed on the road, but every so often, you’d catch him glancing at Sam in the rearview mirror, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. It had been too long since the three of you had felt something like peace, and even longer since Dean had been back at Sam’s place—back with family.

As you pulled up to Sam’s house, you felt the familiar warmth of the place wash over you. The small, unassuming house had always been a sanctuary, its modest walls hiding years of laughter, arguments, and all the little moments that made it a home. As the three of you walked up the steps, the porch light casting a soft glow over the night, you felt Dean’s hand rest on your shoulder, a small gesture that said everything he hadn’t had the chance to say.

“Feels good to be back,” he murmured, his eyes warm as he looked around.

“You sure?” Sam teased, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “Last time you were here, you nearly started a fire trying to ‘cook dinner.’”

“Hey, that was a one-time thing,” Dean shot back, feigning offense as he walked inside, glancing around at the familiar space. “Besides, you’ve probably missed my cooking by now.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully as you followed Sam in. “If by ‘cooking’ you mean ‘burning toast,’ then sure.”

Dean chuckled, but the sound softened as he took in the sight of the house—photos on the walls, toys scattered across the living room floor, the unmistakable signs of a family at home. And then, as if on cue, a small voice called from down the hall.

“Dad? Is that you?”

Sam’s son, Dean Jr.—little Deano, as his uncle called him—padded into the room, rubbing his eyes sleepily. At the sight of his dad, he broke into a wide grin and ran over, wrapping his arms around Sam’s legs.

“Hey, bud,” Sam said, crouching down to give his son a hug. “Guess who else is here?”

Little Dean turned, his eyes widening as he spotted his uncle. “Uncle Dean!” he cried, running over and throwing himself into his uncle’s arms with a squeal of excitement.

Dean scooped him up, grinning like a kid himself as he lifted the boy high into the air. “Hey, squirt! Look at you, growing like a weed!” He ruffled the kid’s hair, his expression softening as he looked at his nephew. It had been far too long since he’d seen him last, and he seemed to drink in every detail, the pride and affection clear in his eyes.

“Mom says I’m getting big and strong!” Little Dean declared proudly, flexing his arms for emphasis.

“Damn right you are,” Dean replied, his voice warm. “Strong enough to wrestle a bear, I bet.”

The boy’s eyes lit up at the challenge, but before he could answer, a soft, muffled cry drifted from the back room. Little Dean’s attention shifted immediately, his face lighting up as he tugged on Dean’s arm.

“That’s my baby sister!” he said proudly, his voice filled with the excitement only a big brother could muster. “Do you wanna see her?”

Dean hesitated for a split second, but then he nodded, his expression softening even further. “Yeah, kiddo. I’d love to.”

With little Dean leading the way, the three of you moved down the hall, Sam watching with a quiet smile as Dean followed his nephew’s eager footsteps. When you reached the nursery, Sam slipped inside first, motioning for you and Dean to wait just outside. He came back a moment later with his daughter cradled in his arms, her tiny fingers curling around his thumb as she blinked sleepily up at him.

Dean’s breath caught for a moment as he looked at the tiny bundle in Sam’s arms, his expression filled with a mix of awe and something softer, something that lingered in his gaze as he reached out carefully, as if he were afraid he might somehow break the fragile moment.

“Dean,” Sam said softly, his eyes glinting with pride and something unspoken. “Meet my daughter, Emily.”

Dean reached out, his fingers brushing the soft fabric of her blanket as he looked down at her, his eyes misting just slightly. “Emily,” he murmured, his voice rough but tender. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

The baby cooed, her tiny hand reaching up to grab at his finger, her grip surprisingly strong for someone so small. Dean let out a soft chuckle, a hint of wonder in his voice. “Look at that. Got a grip like a vice already.”

Sam laughed, his voice a mixture of pride and relief as he watched his brother meet his daughter for the first time. “Yeah, she’s a tough one, alright.”

You watched as Dean’s expression softened, the usually hard lines of his face relaxing as he gazed down at his niece. It was a side of him you rarely got to see, a side that was quiet and unguarded, filled with a love that didn’t need words.

As the night wore on, the four of you gathered in the living room, little Dean falling asleep in his dad’s lap while baby Emily dozed in your arms, her tiny breaths soft against your chest. Dean leaned back on the couch, watching the scene with a contented smile, his hand resting on your knee, a silent reminder of his presence.

For a while, you all sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the past few months lifting with each passing moment. It was a peace hard-won, a quiet filled with the warmth of family and the knowledge that, no matter what came next, you’d face it together.

Dean glanced over at you, his eyes warm as he murmured, “Feels like home, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, leaning into his side, a smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. It really does.”

You were finishing up in the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, the last traces of exhaustion finally starting to catch up with you. It had been a long day—a long few months, really—and there was something quietly comforting about the nighttime routine, the familiarity of it all. You wiped your mouth and took one last look in the mirror, trying to convince yourself that sleep was the only thing you needed right now.

Then, you saw him in the reflection, his figure filling the doorway as he leaned against the frame with that easy, self-assured grin. He walked over slowly, slipping behind you, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror.

Dean’s hands slid around your waist, pulling you back gently, his breath warm against your neck as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss just beneath your ear. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing. “Been waiting all night to get you in bed.”

You smiled, meeting his gaze in the mirror, raising a brow as you tried to keep your voice steady. “I’m just finishing up.”

He chuckled softly, his hands slipping up to cup your chin as he tilted your face slightly, giving him better access to your neck. He pressed another kiss, slow and deliberate, trailing along the sensitive skin just below your jawline. “You know,” he murmured, his words a little teasing but softened by the warmth in his voice, “I could be more patient if you didn’t look so damn tempting every time I look at you.”

You rolled your eyes, but a shiver ran through you as his hands slid down, his fingers brushing along your waist, grounding and gentle. “Always so smooth, aren’t you?”

He grinned against your skin, letting out a soft, breathy laugh. “I try.”

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around your middle as his lips continued their slow, steady path along your neck, every kiss sending a wave of warmth through you that melted away the last remnants of your exhaustion. There was something about the way he touched you—intentional, unhurried—that made you feel as though the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you in this quiet, shared moment.

You turned slightly, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “Alright, you win.”

Dean’s grin widened, his fingers tracing a slow line down your arm as he led you from the bathroom, his movements gentle but sure. He kicked the door shut behind him, the room bathed in a warm, dim light that made everything feel softer, more intimate. As he pulled you toward the bed, his hands slid up to frame your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“Been a long time since I got to just… be with you,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, the playfulness softened by a warmth that made your heart beat a little faster.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was soft and slow, his hands moving to slide over your shoulders, grounding you, anchoring you to him. You melted into his touch, feeling the last bits of tension slip away as his hands traveled along your back, his touch reverent, as though he were memorizing every inch of you.

The world seemed to fade away, replaced only by the warmth of his skin, the quiet, gentle weight of his touch, the steady beat of his heart against yours.

You felt yourself get lost in Dean’s kiss, the world around you fading into a soft haze. The way he held you, the way his lips moved against yours, was intoxicating. There was no urgency, just a simmering heat that built between you, and it sent shivers down your spine. You melted against him, every worry, every fear, every bit of stress from the past few months evaporating into the air, leaving only this moment, this feeling.

As you pulled away slightly, you looked up into his eyes, the warmth and intensity there making your breath hitch in your throat. Dean’s gaze held a mix of affection and longing that made your heart race. “You okay?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent another shiver through you.

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling softly. “Just... you.”

“Just me?” he asked, feigning hurt as he stepped back slightly, giving you a dramatic pout. “I thought I was more than just ‘you.’”

You laughed, shaking your head at his antics. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he said, closing the distance again, his fingers curling around your waist as he pulled you closer. “But I like hearing you say it.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you decided to change the subject. “So, what’s the plan? You just going to keep kissing me all night?”

“I mean, if that’s what you want,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m more than happy to oblige.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. “Hmm, maybe I’ll allow it, but you’ll have to earn it.”

“Earn it?” he echoed, feigning incredulity as he stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. “What do I look like, a dog doing tricks?”

“More like a flirt trying to charm his way into bed,” you shot back with a smirk, stepping closer again, forcing him to drop his bravado.

Dean chuckled, his posture relaxing as he closed the space between you once more. “Alright, fine. What do I have to do to earn it?”

“First, you could start by taking off that stupid jacket,” you said, glancing pointedly at the leather that had become a staple of his wardrobe. “You wear it everywhere.”

He laughed, clearly enjoying the banter, and shrugged it off dramatically, tossing it onto the chair in the corner. “Done. What’s next?”

“Next, you can help me out of this,” you said, gesturing to your oversized T-shirt that had been your go-to for comfort.

“Now that’s something I can get behind,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You want me to help, or do you want me to just rip it off?”

“Whoa there, caveman,” you teased, rolling your eyes again. “Let’s keep it civil for now. Just help me with it.”

“Fine, fine,” he relented, stepping closer again, his hands gently tugging at the hem of your shirt as he lifted it over your head, exposing the soft fabric of your tank top underneath. He paused for a moment, just looking at you with an intensity that made your heart race. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice low and sincere.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, warmth blooming in your chest as you met his gaze. “Thanks,” you murmured, feeling a little shy under his scrutiny.

“Now it’s my turn,” he said, pulling his own shirt over his head, revealing the familiar contours of his muscular frame. You took a moment to appreciate the sight, the way the soft light of the room accentuated the curves and lines of his body, the way he held himself with such confidence.

He grinned at you, clearly enjoying your reaction. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“Just... wow,” you admitted, shaking your head slightly as you tried to regain your composure. “You really need to stop being so distracting.”

“Me? Distracting?” he asked, pretending to be innocent as he stepped closer again, his hands moving to your waist once more. “I think you’re the one causing all the trouble here.”

“Yeah, right,” you said, leaning into him, letting your body press against his, feeling the heat radiate off him. “I’m not the one who started this.”

“Touché,” he replied, leaning down to capture your lips in another slow, lingering kiss, this one more intense, the heat rising between you like a living thing. His hands found their way to your back, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until you were lost in him again. His hand ran through your hair, gently unbuttoning your jeans and tugging them down, lips descending to the arch of your throat.

You couldn’t help but moan, your nails raking down his arm, right as his fingers pushed your panties aside and pushed slowly into your pussy, biting his lip and groaning at how tight you were. “Haven’t had anyone but me, baby? Good girl.”

Oh, you weren’t getting out of that bed anytime soon.

TAGLIST:

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@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

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#dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #spn #artyandink #amoralism #chuck shurley #fbi!dean au #fbi!dean winchester x reader #erraticism

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followafallingstar · 3 months ago

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Lucifer stalks you

Summary: After encountering the devil on a midnight forest walk, you can't seem to feel like someone is watching you. Hmm, maybe you are going insane, or maybe you are not. Pairing: Lucifer/Soulmate, Lucifer/Witch Disclaimer/ Trigger Warning: soulmate au, Stalking, Mention of stalking, invasion of privacy, mention of masturbation, mention of murder, just Lucifer lol

Soulmate au: God created a soulmate for each one of his children. For angels finding their soulmate is one of the most honorable tasks they could achieve due to the amount of luck they must have since the soul of a human mate can be sent to earth at any time during the existence of humanity. But when an angel does meet their other half their loyalty to god switches to their mate, protecting them at all costs. Feelings such as love and lust are only acceptable and archivable for angels when they meet their soulmate and that only to the mate too so acts of unloyalty or cheating don’t exist in their world.

As the weeks passed you couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching you. You seemed extra paranoid, considering the almost fifty wards and protection spells you have cast around yourself and the shop. While you were busy checking left, right, behind, and in front the devil his large wings sat comfortably on a cloud right above the small building you lived in. He had watched you since the moment he saw you and the moment you left the forest. You still remember the moment, his demeanor had scared you causing you to teleport yourself away from his vessel's eyes, not his actual hundred sixty-six eyes he had in his celestial form though. He had his ways to watch you. When he was busy with hell or the Winchesters he would have demons following you, if he had time it would be himself who provided you security. What if you got attacked? What if you messed up a spell and hurt yourself? What if a creep followed you?

He didn't even think about the possibility that he was the creep himself. Why would he? He is your soulmate and that allowed him to be a hundred percent involved in your life even if it was behind your back. You shouldn't think he is a creep, you should think he is a protector.

But perhaps, if you knew that he watched you while you took a bath, wondering if you knew how beautiful you were, so bare without any fabric disturbing the view (that he was entitled to see anyways) while dipping yourself in a bath full of rose milk. If you knew that all your senseless panicking and warding spells were useless since when you were out of the house he snuck himself inside, letting the tip of his wings glide over the smooth surface of your sheets where you would lay for at least 10 hours a day and at least an hour now and then being busy letting your hands slide between your legs, letting them do the work that was supposed to be his. If you knew how many corpses he had left behind every time someone looked wrongly at you, talked to you for a second too long, or dared to flirt with you. The smile they caused on your face made him frown, his good mood destroyed and replaced by a sour expression. He was supposed to be the one that made you smile not some ugly human. The feeling of jealousy that he had felt millennia ago towards the race he despised which his father favored so much slowly crept back into his heart, maybe not the same way it was back then but certainly just as intense.

What exactly he is, is yours to decide. Is he a creep or just a loving mate?

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 4 months ago

Note

This head canon isn't about sister Winchester but Amara's daughter. Just a funny thought that come into my mind.

She and Jack spent a lot of time together and eventually they start dating. Imagine Cas, Dean and Sam reactions.

Cas would be: thats unexpected, but if you two are happy

Sam and Dean would be: but you guys are just kids, until they remember the cosmic bloodlines behind those two.

Dean being Dean would be protective of y/n at first but then become soft and say: just please don't go around making more super babies.

Sam being Sam would try to be the " responsible" father figure and given them a lesson about sex education that would be more awkward than enlightening

But at the end of the day they all are much happy for these two ( young people, but with a lot of trauma) finding happiness on each other

Yessss I love this!

But yeah, every single time Dean catches them kissing he reminds them that if they have a kid, it could literally break the world.

Chuck and Amara both hate it (Amara because that’s her kid, Chuck because a nephilim/darkness baby would absolutely be SO much more powerful than him)

But TFW goes to bat for them and tells Chuck and Amara to back off (well, Dean does, which absolutely freaks out Sam and Cas—“You told two all powerful being to back off?!”)

#the winchesters #dean winchester #dean and sam #supernatural dean #sam winchester #jack kline x reader #jack kline #chuck shurley #oh my chuck #Amara #supernatural

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rowyn-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter Five

Warnings: Self hate, mentions of abusive ex, mentions of a minor character death, fluff

Characters: Reader, Dean, Michael, Jo

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

You had been living with Dean for five weeks now, and everything felt surprisingly normal. You both woke up early in the morning for work, so you got to have breakfast together. You liked having someone to talk to before going to work.

It was five in the morning as you and Dean shuffled around the kitchen in a comfortable silence. You had made some eggs and bacon for the both of you while Dean got ready for work. Since Dean passed the coffee shop to get to work, he would drop you off, and in return, you made him coffee to get him ready for the day.

"Mornin' sweetheart." Dean grumbles as he comes out of his room, yawning. His hair was still tousled from sleep. You chuckle softly at the sight.

"Morning, Dean. Forget to brush your hair?" You snorted. Dean laughs as he smooths down his hair.

"Maybe I was trying out a new style, Y/n, ever think of that?" He sniffed, pretending to be mad.

"Aw, c'mon now, you never change up your routine, so I find that highly unlikely. And besides, you can't be mad at me forever, I made you breakfast." You set his plate down on the table, pouring a glass of orange juice for him.

"I got damn lucky to have you as a roommate." He sighed happily as he ruffles your hair before sitting down at the table, tucking into his breakfast.

"I could say the same." You smile as you eat with him. Storm was still asleep on the window seal. Despite Dean buying a cat bed for him to get into his good graces, the cat refused to actually sleep in the bed. He just sniffed at it before going back to what he was doing.

Once you and Dean were finished with breakfast, he took the plates and put them in the dishwasher, starting a load. You went and grabbed your apron for work before heading out the door with Dean, sliding into his beautiful Impala. "I hope you know that if I actually still drove, I'd totally wanna take Baby for a joyride." You joked.

Dean laughs softly, his eyes crinkling up at the edges. "You're more than welcome to drive her anytime you need, sweetheart. I won't stop you."

"Oh, um, nah." You shook your head gently. "I don't really drive anymore. I um, I got into a really bad car crash about a year ago and I don't really drive anymore because of it." It was the first time you had really talked about the car crash with anyone other than Jo or Jack.

"I'm sorry to hear about that sweetheart. Was everyone alright?" He frowns, looking over at you.

"Oh, um, yeah, I just had a broken arm. . . The other driver was okay too."

Dean could tell that you wanted to drop the subject. "So, I was thinking, you don't work tomorrow, right? And you're done with exams?"

"Yeah, why?" You tilt your head curiously.

"Well," Dean said as he pulled into the parking lot of Chuck's. "I was thinking that tonight we go to my favorite bar and have some drinks, my treat. They're having karaoke tonight too, and I think it would be a lot of fun."

You mulled it over for a moment. You didn't drink much, but you thought this would be a good chance to get to know Dean a little better and let loose some. "I think that'd be a lot of fun, actually." You give him a gentle smile.

"Perfect, I get off work tonight at 5. I'll pick you up and take you home on my lunch break, I don't want you walking home alone or anything." Dean gives you a boyish grin, the one that you had come to adore.

"Thanks, Dean, you have no idea how much I appreciate your kindness." And it was true. Dean was kind to you when it felt like you hit rock bottom. Being evicted from you apartment was rough, and you never expected him to offer his home up to you. Even though you hadn't known Dean long, you trusted him, and it seems that he trusted you. You hated to think about where you'd be without him right now.

"Don't mention it, sweetheart. I'm just glad I could help you out. I've been where you've been before. My life has never been put together in the slightest, and there was a time when I had no place to go. I really could have used some help, and I want to be that person for you." He said softly, looking over at you.

"Well, I know I'm not much, but I'm here, and I can be the support you need. We can help each other." You offer him a gentle smile.

"I like the sound of that, Y/n, thank you." You lean over and give him a quick hug.

"I'll see you on your lunch break, then. Let me go make your coffee really quick." You went in and unlocked the doors, making Dean a brown sugar latte and grabbed him a scone before bringing it out to him. "Have a good day at work." I reach through the window and ruffle his hair before heading back inside to tackle the day.

Jo was the next person scheduled to come in, and you hoped it was one of those rare days that she was actually on time. You had talked to her many times before about her punctuality, but it never seemed to stick with her. She was your best friend, and you didn't want to have to reprimand her, but it seemed that it was going to have to come to that. Thankfully, she was on time today, and you didn't have to say anything to her.

"Thank god my car started." She said as she walked in, clocking in on the computer. "I was scared she wasn't gonna crank. I really need a new car."

"Well, you're here, that's all that matters. Today's a Wednesday, so I'm expecting it to be a good day for us. This is usually our dead day, so I think it should be okay with just the two of us until eleven when Maddison comes in."

The day went off without a hitch, the customers were nice, it was a slow day, and everything seemed peaceful. That is, until the end of your shift. Dean was on his lunch break and he was waiting for you to clock out so he could take you home. He didn't mind hanging out in the coffee shop, as he found it rather peaceful. The front door dinged, signaling that there was a customer inside. "Hey, welcome to Chuck's! We'll be right w-" You broke off as you stared up at the man in front of you. Michael. You could feel your heart pounding out your chest as he glared down at you. You hadn't seen him in nearly two months, what made him want to come confront you now?

"We need to talk." He said gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest. He was 6'3 and he towered over you. It was something that had always intimidated you, especially when you were together.

"We have nothing to talk about. You need to leave." You tried to make your voice sound strong and determined, but it came out as just a small squeak. You hated the affect he had on you. For years he made you feel small, and even after the break up, he could still make you feel that way.

"Oh we have plenty to talk about, Y/n. Like how one day you just changed the locks to the apartment and had all of my stuff sitting out in the hall?"

"And you're just now wanting to talk about this, huh? You had nearly two months to reach out to me and to talk about this, but you picked now as the prime opportunity? When I'm at work?"

"Oh please," He scoffed. "You can hardly call this a job. Besides, I've been busy with other things." Dean's head perked up at the sound of arguing. He looked over at you and Michael. He could clearly tell you were in distress.

"Michael, just fucking leave. You're not welcomed here. Our relationship is over and there's absolutely nothing for us to talk about. You cheated, you were abusive, you were a shitty ass boyfriend. What else do you want me to say? I've listed a billion reasons as to why we broke up and you still can't accept that."

"Don't speak to me like that." He grabbed your wrist. "I guess I better teach you some manners." You try to pull away from his grasp. Before you could even shout for help, a fist connected with Michael's jaw.

Dean looked pissed as he grabbed Michael by the shirt, slamming him against the wall. "What kind of pathetic coward lays hands on a woman?" He growled as he punched him again. "Come near Y/n ever again, and I swear to God himself, there will not be anything stopping me from beating you within an inch of your sad life. Got it?!"

You had never seen Dean so angry before, let alone get physical with someone. "And what's it to you, huh?! Why the hell do you care for some whore so much? Oh, I get it, you're fucking her, huh?" Michael laughed, throwing his head back.

Dean said nothing in return as he punched him once more before throwing him out to door. "Don't ever come near her again." Dean snarled before going to check on you. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he? I swear to God-"

"Dean. . ." You hugged him tightly. "I'm okay, he didn't hurt me. . . Thank you for sticking up for me." You whisper, tears in your eyes. Maddison and Jo watched as Dean wrapped his arms around you protectively.

"No one's going to hurt my best girl on my watch, I promise you that." He said lowly, gently rubbing your back. "I'm guessing he's your ex boyfriend?"

"Yeah, he is. . . I thought I was finally free of him, but he keeps popping back up like an infectious disease." You were holding back tears, not wanting to cry in front of Dean.

"C'mon sweetheart, let's get out of here." He wrapped his arm around you and led you out to his car. "Do you need me to stay with you? I can tell Bobby something came up."

You shook your head gently. "No, that's okay. . . I don't want to impose. I'll be okay until you get off work tonight. . . Honestly, I don't even what to think about what just happened. And it doesn't even surprise me that he came here. I guess I was just hoping he'd forget about me." You ramble on, looking at your hands.

"You wouldn't be imposing, sugar." He said, his voice soft and gentle. "If you need me, I'm here, okay? There's not much goin' on at the shop today, so Bobby can afford to be on his own for the rest of the day."

You felt tears brim your eyes as you kept looking at your hands, refusing to look Dean in the eye. "I-I could use some company. . . If t-that's okay." You whispered quietly. Dean tilts your head up gently with his finger so you would look at him.

"I'll stay with you as long as you need, darlin'." He then surprised you by kissing your head. He was so caring and gentle with you, which was something you weren't used to. He drove back to the house, letting you pick the music for the drive. Once you got back, he called Bobby and explained the situation before following you inside. He grabbed some blankets and popped some popcorn. "So, what movie should we watch? Comedy, rom-com, action?"

"You really don't have to do this for me, Dean. . ." You felt like a burden. You made Dean call out of work just so he could sit here and watch a movie with you. You were an awful friend and roommate.

"You're right, I don't have to, but I want to. . . You're my best friend, Y/n, I want to make sure that you're okay. You've had a stressful day, and you need to unwind a bit. Plus, work was slow, wasn't much for me to do. I'd much rather sit here with my favorite girl and cheer her up." He sits down beside you, draping his arm on the back of the couch.

You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you let the tears flow. "I-I just want to be rid of him. He never let's me have any peace."

"Shh," Dean whispered softly, running his fingers through your hair. "I'm here sweetheart. . . He won't hurt you as long as I'm around, okay?" He kissed your head again, making you feel comfort. Storm jumped up on the couch, settling himself in your lap, purring softly. "See, darlin'? Even Storm's here to help you." That made the tears stream down your face harder. It felt like you couldn't breathe. Everything that you had held in from the break up came bursting out all at once, despite your attempts at pushing it down. Dean held you in his arms as you cried. "Breathe, Y/n, I need you to breathe for me, okay?" He murmured gently. You tried to breathe, but it just came out as choked sobs. Your body was shaking as you cried. Dean let you know that he was here, and that you were safe. You knew he was right. Being in his arms was the safest place for you. You knew that Dean would never hurt you, and that he would do everything in his power to protect you.

Once you had calmed down, you found your voice. "Thank you for being here." Your voice was raw and hoarse from crying. Dean didn't mention it, he just smiled softly, kissing your temple.

"Of course, sweetheart. What are friends for?" He continued to run his fingers through your hair, as he could tell that's what was keeping you grounded. "We don't have to go out tonight, we can go some other time, I'm sure that you're tired after the day you've had."

You thought it over for a moment. "Actually, I think I still want to go out tonight. . . I just need to feel normal, and show that what he did doesn't get to me." You state confidently.

Dean grins at your confidence. "That's my girl." He let you get ready for your night out with him. You picked a pair faded ripped jeans from your draw, a black blouse, and a black leather jacket. You combed through your hair, trying to find a style you liked, eventually settling on having it braided. You came out of your room with a smile. Dean let out a low whistle as he saw you.

"You clean up nicely, darlin'." He grins. He was wearing a green flannel over a black shirt that fit him nicely and a pair of faded blue jeans. You couldn't help but smile at the compliment.

"Thanks, De. Shall we get going?" You grab you wallet as Dean grabs his keys.

"Let's go." He smiles, resting a hand on the small of your back as he leads you out the door. You were very aware of his hand against your back. But you shouldn't be thinking about that. Dean was your friend and roommate. You couldn't risk anything. You slid into the Impala as Dean going into the drivers seat. You grinned as the car roared to life. The car was absolutely gorgeous, and you'd love to have an old car like this. That is, if you still drove. Past pains rear its ugly head into your thoughts, making you think of things you wish you could forget. You push it aside. Tonight was about having fun with your best friend.

You showed the bouncer your ID and you were let into the bar with Dean. It was packed since it was karaoke night. You and Dean slid up to the bar, you ordered your favorite drink and Dean got a whiskey and coke. "So, ya thinking about gettin' up there and singing?" Dean smirked as he looked to you.

"Me? Nah, I can't really sing." You shrugged.

"One, that's bullshit. I hear you singing in the shower all the time and you sound amazing. And two, no one who sings karaoke can sing. I'll do it with you if you sing." He offered you up a smile. You could never resist that boyish smile he had.

"I hate you, I hope you know that." Despite your words, you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face.

"Say what you want sweetheart. But hey, you get to pick the song and I can't complain."

"Oh really?" You smirked. "So if I picked a Taylor Swift song, you wouldn't say anything?"

"Hey, I can get down with TSwizzle, okay?" Dean held up his hands in defense. You couldn't help the laughter that racked through your body.

"You did not just say TSwizzle-" You continued to laugh, Dean joining in.

"All I'm sayin' is that you can pick whatever song you like."

You went up to the karaoke machine, scrolling through until you found the perfect duet for you two. I Remember Everything by Zach Bryan and Kacey Musgraves. "We're up next." You grin as you pull Dean towards the stage. Dean followed you up on stage, grabbing the mic. "Ready?" Dean nods as the song starts. Despite having never heard the song, he did it justice. You never knew Dean could sing. When you sang your parts together, Dean smiled over at you, his eyes gleaming. Once the song was over, he helped you down from the stage.

"Y/n, you were amazing! I knew you had a good voice, but damn, that was beautiful." He praised you, gently patting your shoulder.

"Me? Dean, I had no idea you could sing like that. You were fantastic!" You gently punch his shoulder.

Dean chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck as the tip of his ears turn pink. "Thank you, sweetheart, I appreciate it." He grinned.

"Aaand I think that some of the girls over there found your singing attractive." You chuckled as you looked over to a group of girls that were eyeballing Dean. "You should go talk to them!" You encouraged.

"Nah," He shook his head. "This night is about you and me, and celebrating our friendship." He gave you a smile. You couldn't help the small butterflies you felt in your stomach. Instead of going off with a girl, he wanted to spend time with you. But at the same time, you felt bad, because you felt like you were keeping him from having a fun time.

You felt like screaming at yourself, because you always did this. Every time there was something good going in your life, you found a way to get in your head and overthink things. You wished you could turn those voices in your head off. Sometimes those voices got particularly loud, especially in times like these. You tried to push them away and have a good time with Dean, but you couldn't help it.

"You okay, Y/n? You got really quiet all of a sudden." Dean said softly. Damnit, he knew you too well.

"Oh, yeah, it's um, it's just been a long day, y'know?" You cleared your throat, looking up at him.

"We can head home if you'd like?" He suggested, tilting his head to the side.

"No no, I'd hate to be a bother. You look like you're having so much fun, and I don't want to ruin that." You spoke softly.

"Sweetheart, if you're tired or you just don't feel up to being here anymore, you can tell me. I won't be upset. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or feel like you have to stay for my sake. Besides, I don't care where we are, as long as we're together, I'm happy to spend time with you."

You gave him a soft smile. "I just don't think I'm in the right headspace right now." You sighed. "It's just been a long day with a lot going on. . . I promise to make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it, Y/n, we can just spend some time together and watch a movie if you'd like?"

"I'd really like that, De. . . Thank you." You whispered gently. Dean ruffled your hair and went to pay for the tab. You rode home in a comfortable silence as Dean hummed along to the radio. You were stuck in your own head again, per usual. You were leaned against the window, feeling the cool glass on your cheek.

"Are you sure everything's alright, sweetheart?" He asked, looking over to you. "You've been awfully quiet."

"I dunno, I'm just really struggling mentally today. After everything that happened this afternoon, I just feel so. . . empty?"

"I get it darlin'. What do you need? Do you need some time by yourself, or do you wanna curl up on the couch with me and watch some Dr. Sexy MD?" He questioned, his voice gentle.

"I think that spending some time with you could help. . ." You couldn't help but smile. You felt safe with Dean, and even though you were having a tough time, you knew that everything was going to be okay as long as you were with him.

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nescaveckwriter · 11 months ago

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Paintbrushes And Romance

Part 2 🥰

A/N: So excited for this, not sure how many part's there's going to be, but I'm sure excited to see where it goes... Embrace the journey with me .. 🐞🥰

Warnings:

The vibration and ringing of a phone breaks your concentration on this sketch, looking at the caller id, you smile, its your mom! Hey my dearest mommy bear, you jokingly answer, Hi my love, you hear your mom's kind voice on the other end, oh the love you have for her, she'll probably never realize, she has helped you overcome some difficult times in your life, honey, she says did you forget about meeting up with my friend for the mural piece she wants done? Comes the question, oh Shit! Mom I'm so sorry I got lost in this, well this piece I'm working on you say a blush creeping on your cheeks, I'll tell you all about it later, you always tell each other everything, I will be there in a little while mom , I promise you, sorry I totally forgot, regret clearly noticeable in your voice. Oh honey you are so forgetful, she says laughing a little, see you soon honey, be safe, love you. Love you too mom, see you in a few.

....

Black velvet from Alannah Myles, playing interrupts Dean and Sam talking about the case he can't seem to catch a break on. The music playing comes from the corner you sat in, wow okay, he said thinking that, classic rock didn't really suit the, softness and gentleness that you were beaming out, a smile tugging at his lips, you are quite interesting he thought to himself, seeing you packing all the stuff in your bags, he's heart sank a little , will it be the last time he ever saw you.

Seeing you stand, you must be about 5 foot 2 if he guessed, quite shorter than he'd expected, but adorable looking. You definitely carry yourself with confidence, but also not thinking too much of yourself, he is good at reading people but he can't quite put a finger on you. She's probably got some damn lucky guy in her life, he thinks to himself.

Usually he would go and chat you up a little, get your number, spend the night, but something tells him your not that kind. His thoughts get interrupted by two kids running into you, probably going to the playground he saw over there, waiting for you to freak out and get angry, but instead your voice sounds like honey , all while you ask them if they got hurt, your voice not high pitched or too low, just well just sweet, he'd probably listen to you talk all day not ever getting tired of how you sound. Watching you, sort off in a daze, Dean catches what looks like a sketching book, slightly showing what looks like a man's face, if he didn't know any better, he'd say it was him, ha! Yeah right she didn't even notice me, he thought to himself, while reading the title of a book lying on top of the sketch book "Burning Rose" author "lady bug" seems strange , dark cover with a red rose covered in flames, she quickly grabs everything, throws it in, and for a moment time stood still, you look up into his eyes, Dean could've sworn he was drowning in your eyes, he can't help it, with a smile as wide as the county he looked at her, seeing her cheeks, turning to a light rose color, she shyly smiles back, that gave Dean a glimpse of what heaven probably looks like. He wanted to get up say something, maybe even just kiss you right then and there, but you left, like a little hurricane out by the door, a hurricane he wouldn't mind being caught in, he thought to himself.

..........

You get out of the cab, at John, and Mary Winchesters home, humbly looking house but still big, amazing garden, this is so much fun, you love doing murals, feeling comfortable, walking in, You've been busy for almost a week with this piece, looking at the wall of the front entrance, its all coming together, the green of the leaves and the white of the magnolia flowers , complimenting the decor of, the entrance, filled with neutral tones aswell as splashes of dark green and bright yellow.

Good morning darling you hear a kind voice say, morning Mrs W, how are you doing this fine morning you ask cheerfully. Oh good dear, John had to go on a business trip again, so I have the house all to myself, she says, not looking really happy about it. I'm so sorry, why don't you and my mom go doing something fun, drink coffee, maybe even a bit of wine, just don't get to tipsy now, you say teasing her! Oh really honey, you hear your mom's voice behind you, tipsy, ha! We are classy ladies, we don't drink wine this early, but no one said there's something wrong with Irish coffee, you all three burst into laughter. Come on Mary lets leave her alone in her art world, while they walk out you hear your mom laughing and saying I love you honey, you too mom, you say while picking up the brushes you need and sticking it into the back pocket of your jeans , climbing up the ladder, already humming to whatever classic rock song is playing, into your earbuds, knowing this is what you are meant to do with your life.

..........

It's about three in the afternoon, and he still haven't returned the pastry dishes to his mom's house, damnit, like I have time for this, letting out an irritated sigh, driving into the drive way, with his black chevy impala, he'd name her baby, all while a song of Led Zeppelin is playing, he gets out, grabs the clean dishes out of the back seat, he walks towards the front entrance , puts down the dishes on the table right by the door way, looking at the picture in front of him, a woman standing on a ladder, hair braided loosely, with a black t-shirt and jeans on, covered in paint, humming and swaying to what sounds like a Bon Jovi song, while admiring the view, she loose her balance, tumbling down, Dean catches her, wide-eyed and confused she looked at him, its her, the coffee shop angel.

Fudgesticks up a fudge tree Dean hears her say, what? He looks at her while still holding her in his arms, the feeling of her so close to him its electrifying, oh sorry she says laughing a little, I try not too swear to much. Not making the effort to get out of his tight grip, he puts her down, seeing the black shirt she has on is a Guns n Roses paint splattered shirt. Well thanks for saving me from, ending up like humpty Dumpty she smiles. Oh my pleasure, he wanted to ask what's she's doing for the rest of her life, but his phone rang and he had to answer since he is the Sheriff of the town. Yeah, what is it he asks with the irritation back in his voice,? There's been another victim boss, says the young deputy, okay Jack I'm on my way, just hold on , he closes the phones speaker with one hand, looking at the beauty in front of him with paint all over her, even on her even on her face, all he can say is good day miss and he starts walking out the door, not waiting for a response.

.....

Arriving at the scene, there he sees it again, this damn killer is toying with them, its one big game to him, like a treasure map, they need to find, he placed the dismembered body all over, the dogs and coroner is already on scene, working. The almost gifted wrapped torso on the park bench. Dean is looking around the scene for clues as to how he chooses his victims, thinking, he doesn't have a specific type, so to say, some has light hair with light skin, some have dark hair with olive skin, its victim 8, its been 8 months since this case came to his attention, but still no clue, how he gets his victims, since he seems to toy with his victims for 3 to 4 weeks all sedatives maybe used, is already out of there system.

Waiting for the coroner, what seems like hours, he finally gets the call, Sheriff Winchester you can come and look at the body. Yeah on my way, before going in, Dean inhales a deep breath, not so much for the smell, but more for the courage to see another life taken, someone's, daughter, sister. He is a rough man, but sometimes the stuff what he sees can also take its affect on him. Shaking off whatever he just felt, walking in, he sees the women neatly placed on the cold steel table, every body part pieced together, looking at her face , she can't be older than 20-25 he thinks, while listening to the coroner telling him, how she has the rope burn bruises like all the other seven vics, the dismembering is clean, like it's done by a professional, no signs of sexual assault, the coroner goes on to say, she's been washed in some sort of alcohol almost like sanitizer to remove whatever traces of DNA there could've been. But I did find something odd by one of the cuts, the coroner said. Yeah well get to it doc, Dean says, okay jikes! Its another piece of meat, most likely beef, but its getting tested and I will let you know. Good, Dean said thanking the man, giving one last look of the woman lying there. Hell sometimes I hate this job.

....

The stars clearly visible in the dark skies, while sitting on his porch, whiskey on his breath, a worried look on his face, thinking about the day, the case, the parents of the woman he had to let know that they found their daughter, but she didn't make it, how they had to ID her and the damn tears and despair afterwards... Taking another sip of his whiskey, thinking about the coffee shop angel he saw again and how happy and carefree she is like she doesn't have a worry in the world , not a inch of sadness he detected in her eyes or her sweet honey filled voice.

Wondering why he haven't seen her around in this old town, contemplating what he already knows about her, she doesn't really like to be seen, she likes classic rock, she doesn't like swearing, clearly she likes fudge, and she must be an artist, he can't help it but he starts smiling when he remembers her laughter filling his ears, oh yes and she likes to read remembering the book he saw, quickly taking out his phone he does an internet search of this author "lady bug" three best selling novels, there's the one with the rose, he reads the review and then the ending, of the book because he ain't much of a reader so his not going to read the whole thing!

Wait, what! This book its, clearly one of those steamy romance books but its also a thriller, okay , she is something else, he reads the ending of the book again. "Like a burning rose he ignites your soul when his lips come crashing to yours, flames of passion dancing in your eyes, hands and body intertwined, his love for you burning away all the thorns of past heartbreaks and mistakes, knowing his touch is crumbling your walls and with the thought of knowing your safe with him, you give into the flames engulfing your soul."

#Spotify #spn text post #sam and dean #chuck shurley #winchester brothers #castiel spn #jared padalecki #jensen ackles x reader #eileen leahy #charlie bradbury #spn crowley

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s1mpforeveryone · 1 year ago

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god i want god!chuck shurley to fucking ruin me and degrade me while he does it

#degrading #x reader #chuck shurley #smut #rail me #please #step on me

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ourloveisforthelovely · 2 years ago

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To the Ends of the Earth Part 21

Supernatural

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader

Rating: Mature

Summary: AU Supernatural. Gabriel is tired of Micahel and Raphael’s constant interfering and dictating what’s best for him. Little do they know that he’s been sneaking to earth to fall in love with you. When he convinces you to run away with him, all hell is about to break loose.

Link to Part 20

________

1 week later…

You lay with Gabriel on the couch snuggled against his side as some tv show played unnoticed in the background. Halfway through, whatever show it was, you closed your eyes and snuggled further against Gabriel. He placed one of his hands over yours that you had laid on his chest. Neither of you had said much in a while but the quiet cuddling was enough.

The last week had thankfully calmed down. Dean had slowly accepted that you were pregnant. You were positive that Dean had tracked Chuck down and threatened him real good about keeping you alive. When he came home Dean seemed to be in a lot better of a mood. You could only assume that threatening Chuck would bring that level of happiness.

Was Dean happy about you being pregnant…no. Something told you that your eldest brother wouldn’t be happy until the baby was born and you were alive.

Gabriel also wasn’t saying much about the baby-to-be. While you didn’t expect him to be excited, you wished he would “open up.” The best that you could assume was your lover would be like Dean. While he wasn’t as on edge as Dean was, you could still sense Gabriel’s nervousness. His eyes were always on you now. He seemed to be watching every move that you made while being totally prepared to smite whatever could harm you in the slightest.

“Maye that is his love language when it comes to the baby?”

That was the best thought that you could formulate. Gabriel had told you a few days prior that he could sense the baby’s heartbeat. The look in his eyes when he said those words and how he stroked his fingers over your still flat stomach gave you some hope as to his feelings.

Minus, the baby on the way, everything else with Gabriel was just like usual. You were thankful for that at least. If Gabriel turned off the love supply, you would have totally fallen apart. From the brief bit of the baby book that you had read (until you got to the part about birthing pictures and nearly vomited) apparently, a woman’s sex drive was supposed to increase.

“…Yep, that’s happening.”

“How are you feeling?”

Gabriel asked softly, pulling you from your thoughts. He originally didn’t want to wake you but the quiet of the room was beginning to drive him nuts. Gabriel wouldn’t say it but his anxiety went into near overdrive whenever you were quiet for long periods. Yes, he was able to check you over at any time but hearing your voice seemed to make all of his worries go away. You yawned snuggling further into his side instantly making the worry within Gabriel vanish.

“Fine. My stomach hurts a bit but I suppose that I should get used to that.”

Gabriel put a finger to your head and the sick feeling instantly vanished. He gave you a sheepish little smirk before moving to kiss your forehead.

“I guess that will be a benefit of having a baby with me. I can make all of the nasty…side effects go away.”

“That will be definitely useful.”

You replied before yawning again. Gabriel moved to stroke a hand down your back toward the waistband of your jeans.

“Before you get too comfortable…”

He started but stopped suddenly and sat up. You gave him a curious frown as Amelia came running in with a small box in her hand. It took all you had to stop yourself from smirking at the annoyed expression on Gabriel’s face. If Dean were in the room, you were 100% positive that mentions of being “cock blocked” would have come up.

“Hi, shorty. What do you have there?”

You asked, sitting up. Amelia was nearly bouncing up and down. Gabriel raised an eyebrow before smirking. The little girl reminded him so much of you it felt as if he was looking into a mirror.

“Uncle Dean got me a guinea pig! I named her Snickerdoodle!”

You instantly looked up to Dean as he stepped into the room with a shit-eating grin on his face. He gave you a small shrug before you turned back to your niece who had fished the petrified-looking animal out of the box.

“Oh, that’s nice. She’s lovely, sweetie. Does your daddy know about Snickerdoodle?”

Amelia shook her head and shoved some of her dark hair out of her face.

“I see. Maybe you should…oh look there’s Sam now.”

Sam automatically sighed. He hated that tone. He knew “that” tone. Something was up and something told him that it involved him somehow.

“I love conversations that start like this.”

Amelia ran over to Sam nearly hopping up and down with delight.

“Uncle Dean got me a guinea pig!”

Sam automatically scowled at Dean. This was the last thing that he wanted to get involved with too. Between a pregnant sister who would be giving birth to an archangel’s baby, his own child, dealing with Michael, and all of the other kinks involved with being a Winchester…Sam just didn’t have a “guinea pig” in him.

“Uh huh…he did, did he? Amelia…guinea pigs are…”

Sam tried to think of the right word. He looked up at Gabriel.

“Violent?”

Gabriel suggested, earning a scowl from both Sam and yourself. He only gave you a little shrug as Sam knelt down to Amelia.

“Sweetie, guinea pigs are a lot of work. Uncle Dean, Aunt Y/n, and I are really busy…I’m not sure if this is a good idea. Uncle Dean and I are gone a lot and Aunty Y/n is about to have a baby soon…”

Amelia gave Sam a pouty frown.

“I can do it. I am 5 whole years old.”

Dean made his way over to Gabriel with a smirk.

“This is your first real lesson on being a parent…how to cave.”

Gabriel’s amber eyes rolled over to Dean.

“If you give my child one of those rats, I may smite you.”

Dean quickly moved away from Gabriel shaking his head.

“Tough crowd.”

You rolled your eyes at Dean and Gabriel before turning back to Amelia who was clearly happy with her new furry friend. Her little face showed nothing but pure joy. You couldn’t help but smile at her. Ever since Amelia had moved into the bunker, you took extra care to find little things to bring her joy with. Something told you that Dean used the same excuse to bring Snickerdoodle home.

“Would you two get a room?”

You muttered before kneeling down next to Amelia.

“You really like her don’t you?”

Amelia nodded.

“Yes, aunty. She has a wiggly nose.”

Amelia then attempted to make her nose wiggle like the guinea pig that was nestled in her arms. Again, you couldn’t help but smile. You noticed a small smile grace Gabriel’s face too. You knew that he would never admit it but Amelia had grown on him. Whether it be the fact that she reminded the archangel so much of you as a child or Amelia just had her “own little way” you knew that Gabriel liked her presence.

You turned your attention to Sam, who still looked less than amused with Snickerdoodle’s arrival. Taking a breath, you leaned closer to Amelia.

“Maybe we can talk your daddy into letting Snickerdoodle stay. I can help you look after her.”

Amelia immediately squealed before nearly throwing the poor guinea pig up in the air with joy. You quickly reached out and wrapped your hands around Snickerdoodle and gave Sam a small smile. He groaned and shook his head.

“Fine. She can stay but I better not smell anything.”

Amelia nodded and wrapped her arms around Sam’s legs squealing about how he was the best daddy ever.

“What about me? I’m the one that bought the thing.”

Dean grumbled. Amelia quickly went over to Dean and gave him the same attention.

“I am winning that world’s okayest uncle cup.”

Dean said with a smirk as Cas stepped in. The frown on his face told you that something wasn’t well in the world. Standing up you inched closer to him as he muttered something to Gabriel.

Gabriel turned to you. The cutesy moment with the guinea pig was now shot to hell. He hated even mentioning Cas’ news to you.

“What is it?”

You asked softly. Gabriel sighed.

“My father is here with yet another surprise.”

Both Sam and Dean groaned, mirroring Gabriel’s reaction. You too felt a feeling of dread wash over you. While Chuck’s last visit brought you news of the baby…it also brought a feeling of darkness over the bunker that hadn’t 100% washed away.

“Oh boy this day just keeps getting better.”

You commented before turning to Jack.

“Jack, can you stay in here with Amelia?”

Jack eagerly nodded before sitting down beside Amelia, who clearly didn’t care about the business of adults at the moment.

You turned to follow your brothers and Gabriel into the library where Chuck stood with a smile on his face.

“I thought I would come back…”

Gabriel wrapped a hand around yours, keeping his eyes locked on Chuck.

“Please tell us that you aren’t here to bring more good news. We are worried enough about what you brought last time.”

Dean said. He knew that he would never stand a chance against Chuck but he could put his thoughts on matters out there. What Chuck did with said thoughts and opinions was up to him.

Chuck, meanwhile, felt his smile fade. Everyone was looking at him as if he would be declaring that the world would be ending. Gabriel was watching him with a cold frown.

“Gabriel, you can stop frowning. I haven’t brought anything bad…not really…”

“Forgive me for not trusting you.”

Gabriel said in a low cold tone.

“Gabe.”

You whispered, squeezing his hand. The last thing that you wanted to witness was Gabriel and Chuck having some kind of epic showdown.

“It's okay, Y/n. Nothing bad is going to happen. I’m actually here with a special surprise for you…well…I suppose for Sam and Dean too.”

Sam winced while Dean mumbled something about “that last time Chuck gave them a surprise it was resulting in you becoming some kind of fucked up science experiment.”

You bit your lip, not even daring to look at Chuck.

“You know, Chuck, you have really given us enough surprises. I mean…we have met our quota…maybe you should go…bless…someone else?”

Chuck smiled, shrugging.

“I was thinking about the predicament that you are in. Yeah, you have your brothers. While that’s special, you deserve to have your father in your life.”

You felt your mouth drop as John stepped out from behind Chuck.

“Oh shit.”

Dean muttered while John gave the three of you an exhausted smile. He didn’t seem to notice or care to notice how freaked out the three of you look.

“My kids.”

John was in front of you before you knew it. He looked down at you with a smile before pulling you into a hug. Standing motionless, you couldn’t remember the last time that John had actually hugged you. John was never the “touchy-feely” kind of father so this was totally out of your element.

“Y/n, sweetheart, look how much you have grown up.”

John turned to Sam and Dean following the same lead. Both of your brothers looked beyond uncomfortable too as John made what would typically sound like a heart felt sentiment.

“Dad, you’re alive…and here.”

Dean choked out as John hugged him. John nodded before turning to say something kind to Chuck but the man was nowhere to be found.

“Yeah, I am. I think I got another chance and I am so glad to see the three of you. The three of you stuck together…just like you should have.”

Sam cleared his throat.

“It wouldn’t be any other way.”

John turned back to you. The last time that he had seen you, you were just a young teenager. Now here you stood, a grown woman. John’s eyes landed on Gabriel.

“Who are you?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. He knew this was about to be a shit show.

Of course, it's a shit show. Anytime my father shows up it's a blasted shit show! Now, look what he’s gone and done.

“Gabriel.”

Gabriel said his name very matter-of-factly. He didn’t really feel like getting in an all-out brawl with John Winchester of you but something told you that it would happen very soon.

John, meanwhile, narrowed his eyes on Gabriel. While he expected that you, at some point, would choose a lover…he wasn’t expecting it to be now. Granted, part of him expected to come back and you still be a young girl.

“The two of you are together?”

You nodded, stepping closer to Gabriel.

“Yes, dad, we are. I’m assuming the guy that brought you here didn’t explain anything to you?”

John frowned, his eyebrows knitting together.

“What is there to talk about? I’m alive again.”

You groaned, mentally cursing Chuck under your breath. Of course, Chuck didn’t tell John Winchester the “truth” of everything going on in his children’s lives.

“Oh, there is a lot to talk about. Come on, we all need to go have a little chat.”

You replied. Meeting Sam and Dean’s eyes, you knew that this wasn’t about to be pretty.

“Dad, do you have a gun on you?”

You asked casually. John nodded. He thought this was a weird question but decided to go with it.

“Yeah, why?”

You shook your head.

“Put it on safety.”

John looked a little confused before following you into a dining room. You motioned to a seat.

“Sit down. We have a lot to talk about.”

John quietly did as he was told. His attention went back to Gabriel who was still frowning at him. Something about the way the man was looking at him made John on edge and he didn’t like it. There wasn’t something quite right with the man at your side. All of John’s hunter instincts were going on edge as he realized Gabriel wasn’t blinking.

“Yeah, I think we do, kiddo.”

John replied as Sam and Dean sat down. You didn’t even know where to start. Never in a million years did you think that you would have to explain yourself to your father ever again. When John was killed, you decide that would be the end of that…boy was you wrong!

“Dad, in the time that you have been gone…we have been through a lot. I mean like a hell of a lot. Sam, Dean, and I have gone through things that you probably wouldn’t believe…”

“Oh, I can believe a lot.”

John commented. You blinked a few times as John continued talking.

“Just tell me what it is. The three of you know that I don’t like…”

You held a hand up.

“Okay, we are in the middle of a second apocalypse. The archangel Michael is wreaking havoc in our lives. The three of us have dealt with the forces of heaven and hell, more monsters than you would care to believe, the British men of letters…I’m sure I am leaving a lot out.”

John blinked, looking totally stunned. He didn’t exactly expect to hear all of that.

“Are you joking?”

You weren't quite sure but for some reason, you started laughing. The last thing that you really wanted was to argue with your father about what you had really done over the past few years. John didn’t know the hell that the three of you had gone through over the years. You did. Sam and Dean did. John did not.

“No dad, I’m not joking. Oh, there’s more. Dean and I are dating angels and I’m pregnant.”

Gabriel stared at you with his mouth open. He honestly expected you to tell John a little more gently but no. You just threw that on him like a wet blanket.

“Surprise.”

Gabriel said with a smirk on his face as John turned to him. It made sense! It all made sense now. John now could see why Gabriel wasn’t blinking in addition to the cold distant expression on his face.

“You’re an angel and she’s pregnant?”

Gabriel nodded.

“That is what she said.”

John shook his head.

“I don’t believe it.”

Gabriel waited a moment before snapping his fingers and disappearing. The room was silent before Gabriel turned up beside you.

“Do you know anyone else that can do that because I sure as hell don’t?”

John jumped up, knocking the chair that he was sitting in over.

“Holy shit! You are an angel!”

Gabriel nodded.

“Yep, not just an angel. I’m an archangel. I warn you, human, don’t make move near her or I will smite you back to where you came from.”

John snarled.

“Get away from my daughter.”

Gabriel shook his head before freezing John where he stood.

“I can’t do that.”

John growled before turning his attention to Sam and Dean.

“You two just let this happen? I told the two of you to watch your sister! Letting her get knocked up by a rouge archangel isn’t part of keeping an eye on her.”

You, meanwhile, suddenly remembered your voice.

“Hold on a minute, dad. You don’t get to come here and start things like this. Sam and Dean did everything that they were supposed to and more. You are my father. You should have been there for us and you weren’t! Don’t you dare give me shit about being on hunts either. It shouldn’t have been Dean’s job to look after Sam and me the way he did. He was our mother and father more than you ever were. He didn’t get to be a kid. I’m my own damn person and make my own decisions. Sam, Dean, and I look out for each other but they don’t tell me what to do and you aren’t either. Chuck may have brought you back but you aren’t going to come in here and order us around. For once, we have our lives figured out and we are just fine with it.”

You turned and walked from the room without another word. Gabriel, turned back to John for a moment.

“It’s so lovely to see that you are still the same human that you were years ago. Excuse me, my wife needs me.”

Gabriel put extra emphasis on the word “wife.” He knew it would antagonize John all the more and he didn’t care….

_______

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starchildren220 · 7 months ago

Text

Alone

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my ao3

my wattpad

masterlist

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Chuck is apparently God, though one day Sam and Dean left to check out the town that’s as attacked by Amara leaving you alone with Chuck 😏

Chuck needs more smut!!!

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You had been at the bunker sitting in the war room eating a pb&j, that was until Sam, Dean, and Chuck? appeared in the same room. “crazy spell or manifestation.” Dean was talking when they appeared. The looked around being the bunker so suddenly.

“Whoa! How’d you guys get here?” Your question fell upon deaf ears as Kevin comes out from behind Chuck. “Kevin?” Sam questions. “Guys! You’re looking stressed. Especially you.” Sam and Dean looked very confused and Kevin hovers his hand over Chucks upper arm.

“I-It’s cool. Trust Chuck. Whatever it is he need you to do he thinks you can handle it.” Dean put whatever he had in his hand away into his pocket. Chuck gave the boys ‘see’ look. “I always trusted you.”

“Yeah that ended well.” Kevin gave a stretched smile. “How did you- Are you okay? Um…” Kevin looked down at himself. “Yeah, I mean, you know, given the circumstances.” The Chuck butted in.

“Yeah, I don’t mean to interrupt. Kind of a plateful here. And, Kevin” He turned to Kevin. “you’ve been in the veil long enough. It’s time you had an upgrade.” Chuck waved his hand over Kevin and he turned into a white light.

You choked on your sandwich at the scene drawing attention to you. Then all three of you turned back to watch the white light float up through the ceiling. “Holy crap.” Dean exclaimed.

“So, wow, um Chuck. Well, I guess we don’t call you that, huh?” Sam was nervous and held his hands together. “I prefer it.” Sam shrugged. “Okay, uh, ‘Chuck’ it is.” Sam took a big breathe in. Chuck looked at you still eating your sandwich and Dean sitting down in shock.

“I’m sorry. You’re gonna have to, uh, give Dean, me, and Y/n a moment to start to process. We didn’t even know you were around. I mean, we knew about Chuck, but we just didn’t know about… Chuck.” Sam gestured his hands to a large area.

“I mean, I-I-I was hoping you were around. I-I-I prayed I- but I don’t know if they got, uh, lost in the spam or if-” “Sam.” Dean cut him off. “Yeah?” He turned his head to his brother. “Babbling.” “Okay.” He turned back to Chuck who just had a knowing smile on his face. Chuck turned to Dean and You.

“I’m getting that bit everyone’s totally on board.” There was a silence before Dean spoke. “Here’s the thing, um… Chuck…” He raised his eyebrows. “and I mean no disrespect. Um… I’m guessing you came back to help with the Darkness and that’s great. That’s you know, it’s fantastic. Um, but you’ve been gone a-a long long time. And there’s so much crow that has gone down on the Earth for thousands of years. I mean, plagues, and wars, slaughters. And you were, I don’t know, writing books, going to fan conventions. We’re you even aware, o-or did you just tune it out?”

“I was aware Dean.” This time you stepped in. “But you did nothing.” Chuck quickly turned his head to you, when looking into his eyes something sparked in them. “And, again, I-I’m not trying to piss you off.” Dean continued. “You know, I don’t want it turn into a pillar of salt.”

“I actually- I didn’t do that.” Deans speechless for a moment before starting again. “Okay. People- people pray to you. People build churches for your. They fight wars in your name, and you did nothing.” His eyes start to get wetter.

“Your frustrated.” It was Chucks turn to talk. “I get it. Believe me, I was hands-on, real hands-on for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created… would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way.” You could see the tear that dripped down Deans cheek.

“Being over involved is no longer parenting.” Chuck sighed. “It’s enabling.” Dena shook his head. “But it didn’t get better.” “Well, I’ve been mulling it over. And from where I sit, I think it has.” Another tear came from his other eye.

“Well,” Dean looked down. “from where I sit it feels like you left us and you’re trying to justify it.” He wiped his tears. “I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don’t confuse me with your dad.” Deans eyes shook before he looked at Chuck

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“You have to understand this about the Darkness – she's relentless,” He turned to Sam. “a force beyond human comprehension. It's the only reason I came off the sidelines.” He gestured with his hands.

“Must have been great being her brother, huh?” Sam tried to laugh.

“It was the worst. Always telling me what to do, making me do what she wanted. I mean, you guys know how that works.” He gestured to the three of you and Sam raised his eyebrows.

“So, where is she?” Chuck turned to Dean when he spoke.

Chuck: No freakin' idea, fellas.”There was a pause. “She's warded herself specifically against me. What have you come up with?”

“Zip,” Dean shook his head. “and we've been at it for months.”

“Well, matter of time.” He turned to look at you. “I've always had faith in you” He turned back to Dean. “even if you didn't return the favor. Where's the guest room?” He slammed his hands against the table. “I could use a shower.”

“Uh, it's, um, just down the hallway,” Sam pointed and Chuck looked and pointed the direction himself. “the fourth door on the left.” Chuck pushed off the chair and started walking. Patting Deans shoulder as he walked by.

“Hey, Chuck.” Dean turned around in his chair. “You know that she's got Lucifer, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“The way we heard it, um, last time when you bottled up the Darkness, it-it took more than just you. I mean, we heard that Lucifer was involved.”

“No.”

“No?” Chuck turned around.

“Lucifer was perhaps my greatest hope and my bitterest disappointment. Do you think if I could have trusted him for a moment, I would have put him in the Cage? And I wasn't gonna mention this, but thank you so much for springing him.” His voice started to get louder.

“That wasn't really the plan, um.” Sam tried to lighten the tension.

“Now, as bad as he was, after all this time in prison, he's probably worse. And by now, he could have formed an alliance with Amara. Not walking into that trap, guys. So, no.” He turned back around before turning just his head to look back. “Thus spake the Lord.” The he left.

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“Anything?” Dean and you walked into the war room.

“Nada.” Dean sat down a drink. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Yeah.”

“I wish Rowena was here. She could track down Amara.” You whined laying your head on your crossed arms.

“Yeah, but you can bet she and the Book are gonna stay stashed until this whole thing is over.” Dean placed his drink down and in a softer tone asked. “Where's Chuck?”

Sam shrugged. “Sleeping in, I guess.”

“Does God sleep?”

“I know he takes really long showers.”

“Right! And sings, too, like, crappy old folk songs. I had to tell him to cool it three times.”

“You told God to cool it?” Sam seemed to not believe him.

“Yeah, I sleep.”

“You know, I know this is a really strange situation and all, but it's also really amazing, you know? I mean, it's God.” Sam chuckled. “There's so many things I want to ask him, uh, like, uh, t-the planets, you know? Why are they round? Or ears. I always thought they were strange.”

“Okay, fanboy,” Dean held his hand up. “calm down. Let's stay focused. We got to find Lucifer before it's too late.”

“Too late?” You ask.

“Amara is, she's in my head.” Sam took a deep breath at Deans words. “Hey, I didn't ask for it, okay? She just showed up. But she's showing me visions of-of Lucifer. By Lucifer, I mean Cas, and he looks like crap, like she's really doing a number on him.” Sam shushed Dean before calling out to Chuck.

“Hey, Morning.” Chuck came in eating a powdered donut. Dean turned and saw Chuck wearing his robe.

“Is that my robe?” He asked looking Chuck up and down. Chuck put the donuts down and sat on the edge of the table.

“I'm telling you guys, it's a mistake to get mixed up with Lucifer. Much as it pained me, I had to walk away. Too much drama.” You got up and walked between Dean and Chuck to grab a donut. Looking at Chuck you noticed the powered sugar he had on the corner of his lip, you giggled and motioned to it. He wiped it before asking Dean. “Do you have any bacon?” Dean smiled wide and you laughed at that.

“You eat bacon?”

“Yeah.” Chuck shrugged.

“Hey, guys, this just came up. Looks like that fog, the, um, Amara fog, uh, hit another town.”

“And?”

“And this one wasn't as lucky as the last one. Thousands died. Uh, everybody died. But, uh, except for one man.”

“How'd you miss that one?” Dean asked annoyed

“She's baiting me. I can't respond every time. I won't be manipulated.” Chuck was still chewing.

“Yeah, but thousands of people are dead.” Dean got mad.

“Unfortunately.” Chuck got up. “So find her.” And he left.

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Dean and Sam had left about half an hour ago to check out the town leaving you with Chuck duty. You finished off the donuts Chuck had bought. He came in when you swallowed the last bite.

He walked over dressed in a t-shirt and some sweatpants. He looked in the box, he sighed with a slight frown. “Really?” He looked at you. You shrugged at him with a ‘what are you blaming me for’ look.

“You left them out and I was hungry.” He rolled his eyes before snapping and suddenly the box was full again.

“Cool!” You exclaimed before reaching for one. Chuck smacked your hand then he grabbed a glazed donut and held it with his mouth, using his hands to keep the box closed and away from you.

You grumbled following him, you grab onto his arm to turn him around. You took a big bite of the donut from his mouth smiling triumphantly, he stood there in shock. You turned to leave but you heard a thud from something dropping and a force pulling you back around.

Chuck had pulled you against him, your hands brace on his chest. You felt his breath on your face, his pupils were blown wide. You looked from his eyes down to his lips, he did the same before grabbing the back of your neck and pulling your lips to his. You moan into his mouth at the contact, one of your hands slide up to his cheek pulling him in closer.

His empty hand started on your hip before it slid down to your ass and squeezed it. You let a surprised gasp opening your lips and he slid his tongue into your mouth. You counter his aggressive tongue with your own, his tongue battling your own for dominance.

He let go of the back of your neck and used his hands to grab your thighs. He pulled back from your lips for a second to whisper, "Jump." You jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist, he groaned loudly when your clothed vagina pushed against his growing erection. He walked to the war table before setting you down on the edge.

He pulled back from your mouth and attacked your neck sucking and kissing little bruises into your skin. You pull his hips in with your leg and arching into his body. Your hands roam under his shirt to his waist and up his chest. He pulled back so you could take the t-shirt off.

"Your turn." He smirked before pulling your tank top off to reveal your black bra. He cupped your breasts kissing the tops before reaching behind you to unclasp the bra. When they were freed the first thing, he did was latch his mouth on your left nipple cause you to moan his name loudly.

"Shit Chuck," You breath has hard and fast. "keep doing that." His right hand was giving your other nipple attention while his left hand drifted down your stomach and under your waistband. His fingers ghosted over your clit causing your mouth to drop open and your head to fall back against the table.

His index poked between your slit making you whine. "Please, Chuck please." You beg him. He pushed his finger in, curling it against your soft walls. "Oh God!" You moan out.

"That is true." He pulled away from your nipple chuckling. He added another finger, and you clenched around his fingers. "Shit baby, squeezing me so tight." His dick was getting painfully hard while looking at your radiant figure.

"Please wanna feel you." One of your hand's palms on his arm as the pleasure felt like too much. His right hand pulled both yours and his pants down, he pulled his boxers down with his pants.

His tip rubbed against your slit before he pushed his hips forwards, his dick filling you up immediately. You pull him into a fervent kiss, your tongues messily dancing against each others.

His hips snapped back and forth, his tip hitting your cervix. You clench tight around him and he lets out a strained groan.

“Fuck, baby with you squeezing me like this I’m not gonna last very long.” He smirked.

“Good,” You chuckle. “Cause I’m not gonna last very long like this.” Your head falls back on the table. He takes this time to kiss along your neck adding even more marks to your skin.

His teeth against your skin burns a fiery feeling in your stomach. He pulls back to admire you, skin sheer with sweat, face contorted in pleasure.

You take him by surprise by flipping him in his back, your legs straddling his thighs. His hands went immediately to the back of your thighs keeping you from falling back.

You used your leverage to move yourself up and down his cock. Your lips making your own marks on his skin. Purple marks scattering his neck and check with a few love bite mixed in.

“I’m gonna cum.” You groan into his neck.

“Me too.” His head fell back. One of his hands moved from its spot in the back of your thigh to your clit, rubbing figure eights over it. You bite your lips stifling a cry at the sudden sensation.

You clenched hard on him as your high hit you. From the pressure of your pussy he cummed spilling deep inside you. Your orgasm was intense, black spots spotting the edge of your vision.

When your breathing returned to normal you felt Chucks hands holding you close to him. Kissing your cheek gently. You pulled back chuckling.

“Who knew you could be so sweet.” You reached for his shirt that was discarded to the side, pulling it on.

“You look amazing.” He told you, eyes full of truth. You smacked his arms giggling.

“You charmer.” You pull yourself off of his with a soft whimper. Grabbing your sweats from the floor, pulling them on. You grab his too and tossed it to him. He got off the table and pulled up his boxers before pulling his sweats on too.

“Not trying to charm you, glad you think so though.” He hugged you from behind his chin on your shoulder. His hand drifted under his shirt, that you were swamped in, resting them on your stomach.

He was kissing your neck when the door to the bunker opened. The loud thumps of footsteps echoed and you pushed Chuck off you stepping to the side flustered.

When Dean came in he was gonna say something until he saw the two of you, Chuck shirtless and you wearing Chucks shirt.

“Eww, y’all had sex when we were gone?” Dean whined. “This better not get in between anything I’m fine with it.” Deans hands were raised in a surrendering position.

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#supernatural #chuck shurley #reader #chuck shurley x reader

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