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hoboal87 · 2 years ago

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I JUST WANT TO HUG HIMMMMM 😭

28 DAYS: CHAPTER SEVEN

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given a choice to go to rehab for 28 days or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Chapter warnings/tags: mentions of underage sex work

Words in this chapter: 3,100

Author’s notes: Allegedly, the Dean v. Dean scene from “Dream A Little Dream Of Me” was supposed to be John v. Dean but JDM couldn’t make the schedule work. That got me thinking about how else I could use that pivotal scene in this AU. You’ll see that scene sort of sprinkled throughout this chapter.

Thanks for your patience as I adjust to my new work schedule. I have the next two chapters as well — they just need some marinating and beta-ing.

Many thanks to @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for pre-reads and for being my friends.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I do hope he makes it.” Rowena waves as she, Gabe, Dean, and Meg watch Crowley make his way to the exit.

Crowley turns before walking out the door, tossing Rowena a nod before flipping two backward Peace signs to either side of her, effectively telling Dean, Gabe, and Meg to fuck themselves.

“Rude,” Meg murmurs into her coffee as Gabe wraps an arm around Rowena’s slight shoulders.

“Ya know, Ro, statistically, only three-tenths of us make it,” Gabe says. “So it’s better for us if he doesn’t.”

Meg does a spit take of coffee while Dean barely keeps his own in his mouth to swallow. “Fuckin’ savage, Gabe,” Dean chuckles, slapping Meg on the back. “Breathe through it, sweetheart.”

“That smarmy dick — affectionate,” Gabe pretends to assure Rowena that the insult is meant with the best of intentions, “deserves the very best.”

Rowena turns and sniffles into Gabe’s embrace.

There’s a lot of affection within their small group. Dean’s stopped questioning the fraternizing rule, though, because Meg does wonders for the tension in his neck and shoulders with her tiny little hands.

“I’m gonna hit the gym. Anybody wanna join? Dean-o?” Meg tosses her empty cup in the garbage before arching and stretching to make her spine pop and crack.

Part of his recovery from addiction and his injuries is structured and supervised exercises. It’s done nothing for his persistent hard-on, but it helps with boredom, anger, and the satisfaction of succeeding at something, even if it’s not much.

Dean turns his back on Gabe and Rowena’s canoodling. “Sounds good. What time?”

“Ten?” Meg claps her hands together enthusiastically.

“Yep,” Dean answers, dumping his cup into the trash before they go their separate ways — Meg to the women’s sleeping quarters and Dean to the men’s.

It’s been 10 days since the fire. It feels like weeks to Dean. He read once that it takes 21 days to create a habit and 90 to make it stick. He always thought that seemed arbitrary, but he’s starting to believe it because his day-to-day here is quickly becoming routine.

When he gets to his room, he finds Jack in bed with Red Hood Arsenal Vol. 1, covered in candy wrappers.

Dean arches a brow as he yanks his drawer open. “You ever get outta bed this mornin’?”

“Not really feeling social today,” Jack murmurs, gnawing on a piece of chocolate and nougat.

Dean digs around for a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt for the gym. “Well, ya should eat somethin’ real before they close the kitchen.”

He shoves the drawer closed before turning to face his roommate.

Jack keeps his eyes on his comic as he replies. “You’ve only been wearing that sign for a day. Have you already forgotten my eating habits are none of your business?”

Dean drops his eyes to the sign around his neck as he tongues the back of his teeth before roughly grinding them.

“Nope. Haven’t forgotten.” His stomach tightens and flips, and his face starts to heat. “Ya know... I just-”

“Still none of your business.”

Jack’s tone, assertive nature, and blunt words make Dean tense. He wants to yell. Yelling relieves tension for him. Punching things also relieves tension, so Dean decides to keep his mouth shut and get dressed to work out, even if he can only punch with one fist right now.

He passes Billie’s office on his way to the gym. Her door’s open, so he pokes his head inside. “Hey.”

She silently and expectantly looks up from her desk, pen frozen in her hand.

“Just...” Dean juts a thumb over his shoulder as he steps fully into the doorway. “Headed to the gym. Thought I’d say hi.”

Billie raises her eyebrows and chin before nodding. “Well, hi.”

Her less-than-enthused response further agitates him. “Man, I’m just pissin’ everybody off today,” he mutters.

“You’re not pissing me off.” Billie carefully sets her pen aside before pushing her chair away from her desk. “Come in, Dean.”

Dean walks inside, feeling rejected. It’s uncomplicated when he thinks about the reality of the last 15 minutes. These people are practically strangers, Jack’s a 17-year-old kid, and Billie’s a fucking shrink so he shouldn’t give a shit what they think. Yet these perceived slights would’ve sent him straight to a bottle of pills or whiskey and searching for pussy outside these walls.

“Your door was open. I just thought I’d say hi instead of just walkin’ by like you don’t exist.” He walks over to her designated visiting area and takes a seat.

“And that’s very kind of you.” Billie settles in one of her chairs across from him.

“So then why’re you just like ‘hi???’ like I’m annoying you,” he asks.

He fully realizes that he sounds like he’s trying to start a fight, but he does nothing to dial it back.

“You’re not annoying me. I wanted to be sure you didn’t need something first.” She pauses. “Did something happen with Jack or Meg?”

Dean shrugs. “Jack acted like I tried to set his stuffed dragon on fire when I reminded him the kitchen was about to close.”

She isn’t making notes right now, which relieves Dean. “Can you expand on that?”

“Well, he brought up my stupid-ass sign.” He flicks the sign making it flop against his chest ineffectually.

Billie nods, appearing to also curb a smile of amusement, which lightens his shit mood for some reason. “That’s what the sign’s for, Dean.”

He scoffs. “To repeatedly remind me that I’m a pain in the ass?”

Billie narrows her eyes and sighs. “No. The signs serve many purposes, none of which are to remind you that you’re a pain in the ass. They help maintain boundaries and remind everyone to focus on themselves and their own recovery.”

Dean chews the inside of his cheek. “So, if the 17-year-old kid I’m rooming with starves to death, I’m just supposed to keep my eyes on my own prize.”

He’s being dramatic. He knows he’s being dramatic. It’s a great outlet, though, with the absence of his other sorely missed vices.

“First of all,” Billie begins to count her retorts on her fingers, “Jack isn’t going to starve to death-”

“I’ve never seen him eat anything but candy!” Dean cuts her off with exasperation.

“Dean.” Billie drops her hands in her lap.

“Sorry.”

Expressing his frustrations and regrets isn’t something he’s comfortable doing because he never learned to do it any other way than physically fighting, fucking, or getting wasted. That’s not BIllie’s fault; it’s just facts.

Billie calmly begins again. “He will not starve. Nor will he learn to feed and care for himself adequately if we don’t let him figure that out on his own.”

Dean sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “Can’t save everybody,” he mutters.

“Correct,” Billie answers. “What else?”

“I need to focus on my own recovery.”

“Yes.”

He brings his gaze back to hers. “Sorry for...” He waves his hand in the air as an explanation. “Barging in, whining...”

“No apologies necessary. You aren’t whining, you have questions. Bucking the system demonstrates healthy curiosity.” Billie peers at him above the tent of her fingers. “You know, some might assume, as a Marine Corps veteran raised by a Marine Corps veteran that you’d follow orders without a second thought. But you don’t.”

Dean stares back quietly. He and Billie have made progress. He trusts her to do what she says she’s there to do. The problem right now is she’s probing a scab he isn’t willing to expose.

“Well, I got people who look to me for answers — my team, my kid.”

Billie nods. “Yes. And you’ve amassed a group of people here who also see you as a leader, and as a natural leader, it’s important to be mindful of your intentions and of the impression you leave on others.”

“When you say it like that, I feel like a fuckin’ asshole.”

Billie shakes her head. “You’re not an asshole. Go to the gym.” She motions to his outfit as she stands. “During our scheduled session this afternoon, we can talk more about that.”

As he gets up and walks to the door, Dean’s chest feels heavy even as his heart spits and sputters.

The gym doesn’t help clear his mind or calm his anxiety. He’s stuck in the spiral of memories from his last argument with John.

“I’ve been back for five days, Dad, can I just get my bearings before you start-”

“Your brother is leaving, and you won’t lift a finger to stop it. All you’ve done is whine about how you’re gonna miss him when he leaves!”

“He got a full ride.”

“And you’re gonna what, help him pack?! Came back from that war as mindless and obedient as an attack dog — good soldier and nothin’ else.”

That’s fucking rich, coming from John, who only ever treated Dean like a soldier. Dean learned so much more about life and relationships over there than John ever taught him.

“That’s not true.”

“No? What else ya got, then, kid? Your car? That’s mine. Your favorite leather jacket? Mine. Your music? Mine.”

John’s ever-panning searchlight of fury has all but lost Sam and is fully focused on Dean. While Dean doesn’t love being under his dad’s scrutiny, he hopes that his presence buys Sam a few more minutes to get his shit together and get out.

“Your entire fuckin’ personality is me and that kid brother of yours.”

Dean’s slumped against the living room wall with his dad looming over him, red-faced, sweating, and spitting rage.

“You’re fuckin’ obsessed with keeping us here. Sam was built for somethin’ better-”

“I’m obsessed?” John rapidly blinks, clutching his left arm. “How the fuck did you handle not havin’ little Sammy on your heels in Afghanistan? You got nothin’ outside of this family, and you know it.”

“You’re fuckin’ drunk and high.” Dean shakes his head and pushes away from the wall. “You need to sit down.”

“Listen here, you ungrateful little shit-”

“Yell all you want, I’m still leaving!” Sam strides into the living room, hoisting his bag over his shoulder.

Dean takes a step forward, and John takes a step back.

“All that shit you dumped on me about protecting Sam? That was your shit.” He pokes a finger into John’s chest. “You’re the one who couldn’t protect your family, and now that we’re adults with our own fucking lives, you can’t handle it.”

“Keep talkin’, asshole.” John is panting heavily, and his face is turning darker red. “You think you know what it’s like to raise a kid-”

“Yeah! I do!” Dean walks John right back to the couch where John drops to sit. “You were never fucking here for Sam, I always was. All you ever did was train me, boss me around — Daddy’s blunt little instrument — I was never your kid.”

“Oh, please...” John groans, his words slurring as he squeezes his arm harder and he drops his chin to his chest.

“But Sam... Sam you doted on. And now he’s leaving. Talk about what’re you gonna do now, huh? What’re you gonna do, John?”

“Dean...” Sam’s voice is hollow.

“Geez, what happened to you between finally gettin’ rid of that cranky old queen and now?” Meg asks.

Dean breathes and grits his teeth as he mentally counts his wall push-ups. “It’s a whole thing.”

He doesn’t want to get into John with Meg. Not right now. The thought of getting into his history with his dad at all makes him feel like jumping out the window.

Meg furrows her brow and nods. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

Dean shoots her a look, thinking she’s teasing him. What he finds when he really takes her in, though, is so raw and delicate that he can barely stand to look at her.

“Yeah, I’m my own worst nightmare.” He completes his wall exercises and eases to the floor for the rest.

“Don’t do that,” Meg says. She stands over him with her hands on her hips.

Dean tosses his hands in the air in surrender. “I’m kidding. OK?” He starts his hip stretches and the pain carries a signal of satisfaction and success to his brain.

“No, you aren’t.”

Dean groans at the stretch. “What’s with you? This is our thing. The self-deprecation thing.”

Meg sighs and drops to the floor beside him to do some of her own exercises. “Dean, you’re one of our 2.1.”

Dean shakes his head. “What?”

“I did the math; three-tenths of seven is 2.1.”

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes so hard they take his whole body with them. “Are we including Crowley in that seven?” He goes back to carefully lifting and stretching his hips.

“Yeah... better odds for the rest of us that way.” Meg twists her spine so she’s facing Dean with her knees pointing in the opposite direction.

Dean snorts, and Meg chuckles as they watch each other try to get better.

Then her face softens as well as her voice. “You’re gonna make it, Dean. Because you’re a fuckin’ badass.”

Dean swallows back a lump from trying to form in his throat.

“You’re here because of a blip.” She rolls her watery eyes. “You are better than this. You’ll come out on the other side stronger because you’re already so strong.”

Dean draws a shallow, shaking breath. “And what about you?” He’s almost afraid to ask, but she doesn’t disappoint.

Meg smirks. “I figured out one thing about this world — just one.” She twists back to lie flat on her back, looking up at the ceiling as she pulls each knee into her chest. “You find a cause, and you serve it. Give yourself over, and it orders your life.”

Dean nods, rolling to his side. “Sex work and heroin didn’t give you the kinda order you wanted?”

Meg chuckles and switches knees. “At one time, my pimp’s mission was it for me. But things change, right? We learn, we grow... Now?” She turns her head to look at him again. “My cause is getting sober.”

Dean purses his lips. “So you and I’re the lucky two?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He wishes her insistence that he’s so strong made him feel that way. Instead, he feels like there’s a light shining on his weaknesses. If there was a way for him to be all the good things people claim to know about him and nothing else, maybe he could finally stop hearing his dead dad’s voice in the back of his mind, telling him that he’s worthless.

“We’ve been here for over an hour.” Meg sighs then rolls away from him, to her side, and up onto her hands and knees. “Let’s go eat and chain-smoke before group.”

She hops to her feet before reaching out a hand to help Dean up. He smiles softly before accepting her offer.

“Do you feel akin to Jack?” Billie asks.

It’s their scheduled session in the afternoon. Dean is exhausted. There’s so much talking and listening and correcting — yourself and others.

“I’m old enough to be the kid’s dad, so I guess? Things’re different than they used to be.” Dean shrugs.

“For who?”

Dean drops his head to the back of the chair and sighs.

“You’ve had a long day, I know,” Billie says, and Dean rolls his head to the side and peeks at her with one eye.

“Therapy and recovery aren’t quick and easy.” Billie shakes her head. “If they were, everybody’d do it. Right?”

Dean snorts. “I guess.” He sighs again, this time much less dramatically, then sits up straight in his chair. He clears his throat before moving forward with what he knows he has to talk about.

“Sometimes… we didn’t have what we needed— Sam and I— because Dad was... whatever and wherever, and I did things. For people.”

Billie nods.

Dean is surprised to find her unsurprised by his confession. He thought his juvenile records would be sealed no matter what. Maybe she just knows because she’s a brain doctor.

“I wasn’t a hooker.”

“OK.”

“I just did what I had to do.”

“I understand.”

“Like the time I stole bread and peanut butter from the 7-Eleven and got thrown into a boys’ home.”

Billie nods.

“And the time I let the PTA president suck my dick for dinner five nights a week for Sam and me.”

Billie narrows her eyes slightly, still listening, still not taking notes.

“Or an extra hundred in cash for clothes for the kid who grew outta mine the second he turned 16 just to let the guy on the corner watch me eat out his wife.”

Dean wipes at his nose and then looks out Billie’s windows.

“Thank you for telling me, Dean.”

Dean nods and swings his gaze back to Billie. “It’s just... Meg says I’m this badass, gonna pass outta here with flying colors, and Jack... thinks I’m a nag.”

Billie bobs and shakes her head. “No one’s just one thing.”

“Are we having the ‘not everyone is thinking about you all the time’ conversation?”

Billie smiles. “While you were your little brother’s hero, you were someone else’s prey.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, and he looks out the windows again.

“While your daughter sat broken-hearted on one side of town, you single-handedly carried Cyrus Styne to safety.”

Dean closes his eyes and lets a tear roll down his cheek. “So what’s in between?”

“It’s not about other people’s perceptions.”

Before looking back at her, Dean drags his hand over his face. “Then what’s it about?”

“You had to eat and care for your brother, right?”

Dean nods. “Yeah.”

“What about Emma?”

Dean flicks his gaze up to Billie’s.

“Do you see a likeness between Emma and the teenage boy you saved from her high school?”

Dean smirks. “Besides the fact that was her high school?”

Billie smiles and nods. “Besides that.”

“You think I’m avoiding her.”

Billie tilts her head. “Are you?”

“Dean. Hi. How are you?”

“Hey, Lydia. I’m... OK. Is Em around? She blocked me on her phone. I really need to talk to her.”

Lydia is quiet on the other end of the line for a beat. “Just a minute, OK?”

Dean watches the clock on the wall above the phone tick by almost a full 60 seconds before Lydia’s phone is unmuted. There’s a bit of muffled shuffling at first, then...

“Hi, Daddy.”

Chapter 8 (coming Wednesday, April 12)

Please don’t leave without letting me know what you think!

Series Masterlist

MJ’s Masterlist

#au dean winchester #firefighter!dean winchester #dean winchester fan fiction

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goldenispunk · 7 months ago

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Firefighter!Dean because he deserved that happy ending 🧡

#9 1 1 has altered my brain chemistry #Dean Winchester x Reader #AU Dean Winchester #firefighter!dean #supernatural #jensen ackles #man i love dilfs #dean winchester #spn #firefighter #Dean Winchester moodboard #Dean Winchester x you #Dean Winchester x y/n

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cherrygirlfriend · 2 months ago

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i did NOT expect chilis (the restaurant) to beef with twitter users over a gay angel and his bf and the most disliked ship of that gay firefighter show

#supernatural #destiel #castiel #dean winchester #9 1 1 #buddie #anti bucktommy #evan buck buckely #eddie diaz #gay firefighter show

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thetokentrans · 9 days ago

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I, like many spn fans, have gotten super invested in the show 911, and I'm thinking about a spn firefighter au now because of it.

And now I have some ideas for world building and plot points, but I was hoping to find some folks to chat with about ideas!

I want it to be a Destiel slow burn - and I want the introduction of Castiel to have a similar "whatta man" vibe as Eddie's introduction to 911.

#spn firefighter au #spn au #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #destiel #castiel supernatural

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zepskies · 8 months ago

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Thank you so much, Sandra!! That cover image is AMAZING. I can't wait to listen to this!

Here's where Smoke Eater is complete here on Tumblr: Smoke Eater Masterlist.

I'll include a link to this there as well. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

But everyone please check out Idling in the Impala for more great podfics, interviews, and other content!

Smoke Eater [Podfic Version]

Podfic Time – “Smoke Eater” by Zeppelin_Skies

Congratulations to SPN FanFic Pond member @zepskies (Zeppelin_Skies on AO3) on her “Leap Year” event win! She chose the prize of having me narrate one of her stories. She picked the first chapter of “Smoke Eater,” her first-ever SPN AU that showcases her love of procedural shows—and really, how can you go wrong with Firefighter!Dean??? Have a listen!

Visit the story on AO3 here, and don’t forget to give it a kudo and comment!

Learn more about @spnfanficpond and become a part of this amazing community of fanfic writers and readers: https://spnfanficpond.tumblr.com

Are you looking for more podfics? Then head over to the Idling in the Impala podcast and get your fill!

~ Sandra

~~~~~

Supernatural Fandom

Rated Explicit (eventually)

Dean Winchester/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.

#smoke eater #spn fanfic #podfic #idling in the impala #podcast #dean winchester x reader #firefighter!dean winchester

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lioniheart · 6 months ago

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2016 // 2024

I'm back at the fucking building again

#911 abc #buddie #buck and eddie #evan buckley #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #that gay firefighter show

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zepskies · 6 months ago

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Something Real

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean W. x F. Reader

Summary: Now that you and Dean are officially engaged, you take some much needed time off together for a family vacation. But even with the wedding set for next year, the two of you are still at odds when it comes to one key part of your future together…

AN: And we’re back in the world of Smoke Eater! I’ve been trying to figure out a way to come back to these two for a while now, and this idea finally struck me. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 6.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Major fluff, angst, PTSD/mentions of sexual harassment (references to Smoke Eater Part 13), family feels, hurt/comfort, and smut.

Catch up on the SE-verse: ⤵️

🔥 Smoke Eater Masterlist

“Dean, are you okay?” you asked.

The man was white knuckling both armrests in his seat, taking pains to breathe in and out steadily. He nodded the slightest bit, humming to himself all the while. You bit your lip to hide your smile.

The plane had just taken off about ten minutes ago.

“Are you singing yourself a lullaby?” you asked.

“Metallica. Calms me down,” he replied.

This, from the man who storms burning buildings.

You couldn’t quite stifle your laugh, though you rubbed his arm. Somehow you managed to slip your hand into his, peeling it off the armrest.

“We’re almost up to altitude. You’re going to be just fine,” you told him.

It didn’t matter. The plane hit a bump of turbulence, which had him squeezing the shit out of your hand. You tried to brave through it for his sake, but eventually, you had to tap out.

“Babe, you’re gonna break my hand,” you hissed. With your free appendage, you squeezed his wrist to get his attention. Dean finally realized what he was doing to you, and he let you go.

“Sorry,” he said, his face contrite.

Your lips twitched. You leaned down to grab your purse and dig inside for your sunglasses. You handed them to him.

Dean glanced down at the brown Dolce & Gabbana shades with skepticism.

“I don’t need your girly sunglasses, thanks,” he said.

“Trust me,” you said. “It’ll help block out some light, so you can close your eyes and try to take a nap.”

“The only way I’m sleeping on this tin can is if you knock me the hell out,” Dean said, matter-of-fact. “Ask Sam if he’s got any Ambien.”

You glanced across the aisle and shared a wry look with Sam and Eileen. Sam shook his head, despite the knowing smile on his face. You turned back to Dean.

“No, not Ambien. Andréa sleepwalks when she takes that shit,” you said. You guided his head toward you so that he rested on your shoulder. You stroked his cheek. “Just relax.”

Dean let out a long, unsteady breath, but he tried to follow your lead. He took your hand again, not in a crushing way this time. He turned it over and admired the shining ring on your finger. The diamond on it was modest, but charming and unique in its setting.

“Hmm, who got you that rock?” he asked. His tone was teasing, making you smile.

“The smokin’ hot guy I’m living with,” you replied. “He finally decided to make a move.”

Dean hummed again, raising his brows.

“Good-looking, smart, and decisive. This guy sounds awesome,” he said.

You pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

“Mhmm, a sexy firefighter. And he’s a Captain now, so I guess that’ll make me his trophy wife,” you teased back. Dean’s shoulders shook with the effort of keeping his laughter quiet. Your smile deepened.

“But he saves lives too…including mine,” you added. “So I guess I can’t complain.”

Dean raised off your shoulder then, just to look at you with a softer smile of his own.

“Well, a pretty girl like you? He’d probably say he got really, really lucky.”

His lips closed in on yours, and you allowed him to draw you into a languid kiss while he laced his fingers with yours. His thumb brushed the engagement ring he gave you, just two weeks ago. His mother’s ring.

It’s the best gift you’ve ever been given.

Oh, hell yes, you thought, when you opened the door to the hotel room. It was beautiful. Stunning really, with a king-sized bed and a view of an enormous pool.

Dean was busy hefting his suitcase and one of your carry-on bags. He whistled in amazement when he saw the room.

“Damn, Sam sure knows how to find a quality Groupon.”

But he struggled to get in the door with all the luggage he was carrying. You held the door open for him.

“Careful with that one,” you said, pointing to your bag that kept knocking between his hip and the door as he shoved through.

“Why’s this thing so heavy? Did you bring Kansas with you? Goddamn,” he grumbled. He was all too happy to dump your bag on the bed.

You rolled your eyes with a smile. You parked your own suitcase on the side by the window. You already knew Dean was going to claim the side closest to the door.

“That bag is just makeup, skincare, and hair products,” you informed him, hefting your bigger suitcase onto the bed. “This is for clothes and shoes.”

Dean shook his head in bemusement. “You’re friggin’ crazy, woman.”

“I need options!” you said defensively. “I didn’t know for sure what I was going to want to wear on this trip. I haven’t been on vacation since I was a kid.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d you go?” he asked while unzipping his own suitcase.

“Disneyland with my grandparents, which was awesome. But I was like, eight at the time,” you said.

They were fond memories, even though no one was left to remember them but you. Still, you tried not to let that bittersweetness dim your good mood.

It was still hard to talk about your grandparents at times, especially because the loss of your grandfather was still so fresh. You didn’t feel like you had enough time to properly mourn him, thanks to everything else that was going on then. (Namely Nick and Daniel Savage, and everything in between.)

Getting over that time was getting easier though, as the months wore on. Sometimes it was hard to believe you’d been with Dean for almost a year. And yet, it felt like so much longer. Like you’d lived half a life with him already.

You went over to look out the window and held your hands on your hips. It was nighttime, but the streets of Miami, Florida were well-lit beyond the pool, and there was something beautiful about a bustling city at night.

“Now this is an adult vacation,” you said.

At that, Dean smiled and walked around the bed to you. He slipped his arms around your waist and held you from behind. You held him right back.

“Damn right it is,” he said. “What do you wanna do first? Dinner, and then check out some nightlife, or skip right to dessert?”

You smiled at the way his voice lowered with thinly veiled suggestiveness.

“Well, I know how much you love dessert,” you said slyly.

Dean’s smile deepened into a smirk.

“Yeah, that may be,” he said. “But don’t pretend you don’t love some hot lemon drizzle.”

You spluttered a laugh, beginning to blush at his hefty double meaning. He cradled your cheek and bowed his head, so he could catch your lips in a deep kiss. You made a sound of surprise, but you soon melted against him.

Already this was worth the several-hour plane ride of Dean bouncing his leg and steeling your iPad so he could distract himself. After the year you both had, all you wanted to do was spend the next few days with no responsibilities, no drama or worries—just your fiancé and your soon-to-be brother and sister-in-law…

Your newfound family.

The night was spent at a nice Cuban restaurant in Miami Beach. Afterwards, you, Dean, Sam, and Eileen explored the boardwalk, and later the downtown Bayside area where a number of shops and kiosks were bustling with life. This was technically Sam and Eileen’s bachelor and bachelorette trip, so you all weren’t wasting any time to explore and see the city.

By the end of the night, you only had enough energy to shower and hit the bed face-first. Dean was actually on board with that, as he was the first one to start snoring on his side of the bed.

The next day though, you felt rested and ready to chill by the pool. Miami Beach itself was a bit too crowded for your tastes, and the others agreed that hanging out at the hotel for a while would be more relaxing after all the travel the day before.

However, when you looked at yourself in one of the two-piece swimsuits you bought specifically for this trip, you couldn’t help but feel…self-conscious. The bikini and bottoms weren’t scandalous, really. You’d seen a lot of thongs, beads, and G-strings already on this trip.

It was just…you were a bit wary of showing this much skin in public.

You didn’t want to think about the reasons behind your unease, however, so you tried to push it out of your mind for now. You put on a long sundress over your swimsuit and finished up your makeup.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the bathroom door.

“You done in there, your majesty? I’m getting hungry,” Dean said through the door.

“One more minute. Doing my lipstick,” you replied. “You know we can order lunch by the pool, right?”

“Yeah, if we ever get there,” he said. You were amused when he opened the door. He was already dressed in a loose shirt and board shorts. His eyes swept over your white sundress and red lipstick, and he smiled.

“Lookin’ good, baby,” he said. Though he raised his brows and met your gaze in the mirror. “So can we go?”

You had to laugh.

“I guess we better, before your stomach eats itself,” you quipped.

You lightly smacked the back of your hand against said stomach before you slid past him out the door.

You and Dean ventured downstairs and out back to the pool, where Sam and Eileen had already saved a few deck chairs. While Sam and Dean went to order some food and cocktails, you started pulling out the sunscreen and towels from your beach bag.

“Eileen, you need some sunscreen?” you asked. Your friend was already taking off her shirt and little shorts, revealing a cute violet bikini and bottoms underneath. Her brown hair was loose around her shoulders. She shook her head at your question with a smile.

“No, I’m good. Wanna go in?” she asked, and signed, before she pointed over to the pool.

There were already a couple of families in there with their kids splashing around by the shallow end. That didn’t bother you. It was more the men of various ages milling about, either in the pool, flirting with girls, or by the tiki bar, drinking and likely waiting for opportunities.

You tugged the V-shaped collar of your sundress closer together.

“Not just yet. I think I’ll have something to eat first, try to tan a bit,” you said.

Eileen gave an “OK” sign and headed for the pool.

You shucked your sandals and moved your chair under a large umbrella, but you still had to fan yourself. It was hot as hell, and your dress had long, billowy sleeves.

Sam and Dean eventually returned with some drinks.

“Food’s gonna take a bit, so we probably have time for a dip,” Dean said, handing you a piña colada. He noticed you wiping sweat from your brow.

“Come on, you can cool off in the water,” he said.

You waved him off. “It’s okay. I’m good here for a while. Think I’ll work on my tan.”

Dean rose a brow and gestured at you with a hand.

“You’re gonna do that in the shade, dressed to the ankles?” he asked.

He made a good point, to which you didn’t have a good answer. You sipped at your sweet drink and hummed at the rummy, coconutty taste.

Dean could see there was something off with you, though.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. I guess I just don’t feel like swimming, that’s all.”

Dean quirked a brow. You bought three different swimsuits for this trip, but you didn’t want to swim? He pulled his deck chair closer and sat on the edge of it beside you.

One thing he’d come to know about you. When something was bothering you, you didn’t always want to tell him right away. Often when it was something you felt embarrassed about.

He nudged your thigh playfully. “Tell me you’re not gonna make me third wheel the married couple.”

You smiled. “They’re not married yet.”

Three months wasn’t a long time though. You were going to be the Maid of Honor, with Dean, of course, as the Best Man.

“Semantics,” Dean shrugged. He slipped a hand over your knee and squeezed. “Come on. Talk to me.”

After a moment in which you held his gaze, you sighed. You beckoned him closer. Dean leaned over so you could brace a hand on his shoulder and speak close to his ear.

“It’s kind of embarrassing. I just, um…after everything that happened last year, especially before Christmas, I just don’t feel comfortable showing so much skin,” you said. “I don’t want to…attract attention.”

Surprise hit Dean first. He pulled away and frowned at you. But then, his face soon dimmed with grim understanding.

Christmas. In other words, a Christmas party at your old job that had taken a turn for the worst.

Dean knew you had to be talking about Nick Savage.

That bastard was dead and gone, and still, the way he’d sexually harassed you for months was still affecting you, months later. Dean let out a heavy breath through his nose. He reached up to cup your cheek. Your eyes lowered.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I knew what I was signing up for when we started planning a beach vacation. I guess it just didn’t really hit me until now.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “But you know I’m gonna be with you. Nothing’s going to happen.”

You nodded; you knew he would protect you in any circumstance, but it didn’t stop men from looking when they had the chance. You just didn’t feel totally comfortable with that kind of attention.

Sensing he hadn’t convinced you, Dean tried to think of a solution.

Then, he had it. He held a finger up in the air. “Ah, here.”

He pulled off his shirt by the back of his neck. You watched him in curiosity.

“This’ll cover you up. You can go ahead and jump in the pool with this,” he said, handing you the shirt.

Your brows knit together. “But you won’t be able to wear this later. It’ll be all wet.”

“That’s okay,” Dean said. “It’s hot as hell out here. And we’ll just be going back up to the hotel room anyway.”

You bit your lip. He made a good point. You were probably going to look weird jumping in the pool with a whole long-ass shirt on, but at least you’d be covered. His shirts tended to reach down to your thighs, where a pair of shorts might cut off.

You smiled and leaned in for a kiss. You stroked his scruffy cheek.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

He nodded with a smile. “Just call me the Problem Solver. No, the Solution.”

You smirked and twined your arms around his neck.

“I prefer Captain,” you said.

Dean’s smile deepened. “You really like that, huh?”

“I really do,” you replied cheekily.

After one more sweet kiss, you asked him to stand in front of you while you took off your long sundress and changed into his shirt over your swimsuit. Afterward, he pulled you in by your waist and spoke close to your ear.

“I like seeing you in my shirt anyway,” he said. You smiled and playfully shoved his arm.

You accepted his lingering hand on your lower back and followed him to the pool. You felt a bit awkward wearing a shirt that billowed in the water when you stepped in, but you decided to ignore the feeling and just try to enjoy being on vacation with your family.

Sam and Eileen welcomed you and Dean over. Eileen did question your state of dress with her eyes, but when you leaned over and explained in her ear, her eyes widened, and she understood. She gave you a look of sympathy and rubbed your arm.

You sighed, but again, you tried to let it go.

You two chatted for a while after claiming a corner of the pool, also watching Sam and Dean swim competitive laps back and forth.

You were engrossed in your conversation with Eileen about her new group of students, when Dean came up from under the water to splash you both. You shrieked with a laugh as you fended off the onslaught, but he hauled you into his arms.

Sam wisely pulled a laughing Eileen out of the orbit. Together they split off for some canoodling, and once he was done playfully trying to dunk you, you were happy to wrap your arms around Dean’s shoulders and float with him in the water.

Dean made way for a couple of kids as they splashed by. A younger girl and an older boy chased each other while swimming with little floaties on their arms. Their parents were keeping a watchful eye on them nearby. Dean smiled and laid a kiss just under your ear.

“That could be us pretty soon,” he said.

“Yeah? How soon are you thinking?” you said in bemusement.

“Hmm. How about next year?” he said, more serious than you expected him to be. You raised your brows at him.

“Dean, we’re not even getting married until next year,” you pointed out. He shrugged and held you a bit tighter. You felt his fingers drifting up and down your bare thigh.

“So we’ll get a head start on the family thing,” he said, grinning.

You couldn’t help but dim at that. You didn’t want to disappoint him, but you also felt you had to inject some reality here. You turned in his arms so that you could face him.

“Babe, I just started my catering business. If I get pregnant, at some point I’ll have to take time off, put everything on pause,” you reasoned. “And…I’m not making the same money I was before.”

At that, Dean began to frown. “I make decent money.”

You nodded, smoothing a hand down his arm.

“Yes, you do,” you agreed.

Aside from his usual hours at the firehouse, Dean had earned his mechanic’s certification a few months ago. So he’d started a side job at Bobby’s salvage yard. He was slowly but surely turning it into a more profitable mechanic’s shop, with Bobby’s blessing.

“But, I think having a baby is going to be a little more expensive than you realize,” you said. “I just want to be more stable with my business before we start a family.”

Dean was quiet for a beat.

“How long then?” he asked.

“I was thinking more like…a few years or so,” you said. Dean’s face fell further, though he tried not to show the true depths of his disappointment.

“Okay, well uh…” He wiped a hand over his mouth and chin. It was an anxious tick of his, you knew. “I guess we’ll talk about it later.”

The conversation settled with putting an implied “pin in it,” but an invisible thread of strain formed between you and Dean for the rest of the afternoon.

Hours later, you and Eileen broke off together to go shopping. You both were trying on clothes at a nearby mall, since she was toying with the idea of wearing something new for dinner tonight. She stepped out of the fitting room to show you a white form-fitting dress that slipped over her curves nicely.

“Oooh, that’s beautiful,” you said, with a little clap of your hands. “And oh! Thinking ahead, you could wear that for the wedding reception too, if you don’t want to deal with the whole wedding dress after the ceremony.”

You knew that her dress had a lot of tulle under the skirt, which might make it difficult to dance in. Eileen gave that idea some consideration, though something occurred to her with a certain smile.

“Well, this dress might not fit so well by then,” she said.

Your brows knitted together. “What? What do you mean?”

Eileen paused for a moment, but she seemed to come to a decision in her mind. She smiled and beckoned you over. You went to her, and she led you to a nearby chaise in the dressing room.

That was where she whispered the news that she was six weeks pregnant.

Your resulting squeal of excitement startled all the other women in the dressing room, including the store’s attendant. You covered your mouth with an embarrassed wave, but you turned back to Eileen and took her hands in yours.

“We were gonna tell you and Dean tonight at dinner,” Eileen said with a laugh. “We found out right before the trip.”

Huh. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember her drinking even one cocktail on this trip so far.

“Oh my God, I’m just…” you trailed, as emotion surged in your heart and made your eyes all misty. “I’m so happy for you.”

Eileen laughed and pulled you into a hug.

She explained to you that when she first told Sam on a Tuesday morning before work, he’d fallen into a haze of shock, to a point where it had kind of worried her. But then she showed you a picture on her phone of the first thing Sam bought when he got home that day: the tiniest pair of blue booties.

You laughed again, and cried again. So tiny…

“Of course he assumes it’s a boy, but we’ll see,” Eileen said, with a roll of her eyes. Her soft smile was telling though.

“How do you feel?” you asked, wiping under your eyes.

She paused at the question. She tilted her head, and she raised her gaze to meet yours.

“I’m happy,” she said. “Really happy.”

It was your turn to give her a big hug. And your tears fell anew as you came to another realization.

As usual, Dean was ready for dinner before you. He sat on the edge of the bed while putting on his watch. It was his father’s watch, which John gifted to him for his birthday. Though it had actually belonged to John’s father, Henry.

Dean blew out a breath. Despite his attempts to try and just have a good time tonight (Sam’s advice), he couldn’t forget his conversation with you earlier today in the pool. He didn’t want to move too fast for you, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that he was still fighting his disappointment, and maybe some melancholy.

Just lock it up, asshole, he told himself.

When you were done putting on the finishing touches on your makeup in the bathroom, you came out and stepped into his line of vision.

“What do you think?” you asked.

Dean’s head lifted, and his eyes widened. You were a sexy sight in black. The dress stopped at mid-thigh, paired with some of the tallest heels he’s seen you wear since his very first date with you.

“Damn,” he said lowly.

You smiled and stepped forward, not stopping until you were standing between his long legs. You took his face in your hands and gave a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. Dean breathed into it, and even needed a bit of a moment to recover when you pulled away.

“Hey, about what we talked about today—” you started. He cleared his throat, raising a hand.

“It’s okay. You’re probably right about all that. The timing’s not right,” he said.

You brushed your thumbs against his cheeks. “But that’s just it…maybe we don’t have to wait so long to start a family.”

Dean perked up, giving you a questioning look. You set your hands on his shoulders. He grasped your hips, almost on reflex.

“Maybe when we get home, we crunch some numbers and figure out how we can do this,” you said.

He shook his head with a frown. “I don’t want you to lose steam on your business. You’ve waited a long time to make that happen.”

You sighed. He was sweet for that, but you’d thought about that too.

“Like I said, we can figure out how to make it work. No matter what job I have, having kids was always our plan.” A smile raised the corners of your lips. “And you know, we have so many people in our lives that’ll want to help us, even if it means we have to work a bit harder.”

Dean’s eyes started to brighten, but he didn’t want to hope too hard.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me what I want to hear,” he said.

“I’m serious, Dean. I wouldn’t play about this,” you said, squeezing his shoulders. “This is worth it, and I want this with you.”

He started to soften then, and even smile. He got to his feet and wrapped you up in his arms. He held you close, pressing another kiss to the side of your head.

“What changed your mind?” he asked. You bit your lip on a smile.

“Well, if I tell you, you have to promise to act surprised when you hear it later.”

Dean’s brows shot up. “Okay. Color me intrigued.”

You leaned up to his ear and said, “Eileen’s already pregnant.”

And your man full-on malfunctioned. He held you tighter, more to brace himself.

“Holy shit! For real?” he asked. You laughed and nodded.

“Looks like they got a head start on the wedding,” you said.

“I’ll fucking say,” Dean replied, but his grin was so wide, it made you smile harder.

“They didn’t plan for it, but they’re going to make it work,” you said. “It made me realize…we can do the same thing. Just with a bit more planning.”

Dean laughed at that. He knew your anal brain all too well, but in this, he could understand. His hands moved down your lower back.

“Well, you know how we can get ahead of the game?” he said. You knew what he was suggesting with only his eyes, and his meaningful touch.

You would’ve loved to take him up on that, but you glanced pointedly at the digital clock on the nightstand.

“Sam and Eileen are probably waiting for us downstairs,” you said.

Dean sighed, rather dramatically in your opinion. He still bent down to kiss your neck, nipping a bit hard just under your ear. It made you jolt with a surprised yelp.

“We’re not done here,” he said. The depths of his voice made you shiver, but you smiled.

“I’m counting on it.”

You all got back from dinner late, after much celebrating for Sam and Elieen’s news. Dean even bought a bottle of champagne, which poor Eileen couldn’t partake in. (He ordered her a large piece of chocolate cake to make up for it.)

You and Dean returned to the hotel room, but tonight, thoughts of sleep were still far from your mind. You sat on the edge of the bed and slipped off your heels, followed by taking off your earrings. You also watched Dean remove his watch and undo the first few buttons of his dress shirt in the bathroom mirror.

He spied you watching him, and his lips quirked up at the corners.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” he asked in amusement.

Instead of answering him, you stood up and made your way over to him. You hugged him from behind.

“I really needed this,” you confessed. “Getting away from home for a while…I’m reminded that everything I need is right here.”

Dean turned in your arms and pulled you in close. He gave you a slow kiss that simmered with heat.

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed. He caught sight of your bikini and his swim trunks dry on a bathroom rail, and a smile grew on his face.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”

“We’re so not allowed to do this,” you giggled quietly.

The pool and the surrounding cabanas were empty. Not only was it very late, but the pool was supposed to be closed. However, it did allow you to feel comfortable in taking off your sundress, remaining just in the vibrant green bikini you were wearing earlier today. Dean took you by the hand, and the two of you tried to keep quiet while stepping into the pool.

“Oh, God, it’s freezing,” you whisper-laughed. Dean’s jaw locked, but he was also smiling, trying not to shiver.

“Aw, shit!” he said, when the water got past his waist, hitting his more sensitive areas. “Why’s it so damn cold?”

You moved closer to him and slipped your arms around his middle, trying to steal his body heat. He welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

“I guess they count on the sun to warm it up,” you replied. “We are in the Sunshine State after all.”

“Know it all,” Dean playfully groused. “I’m freezing my tits off.”

You saw the goosebumps that had broken out across his arms, and yours too. You smirked and teased one of his hardened nips with your fingers.

“Yeah, you are,” you agreed. He laughed and looked down at your bikini top, raising his brows at the stiff peaks.

“So are you,” he said. If you two stayed in here much longer, his nads were going to pay the price. “Maybe this wasn’t one of my best ideas.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head and hugging him tighter. “Definitely one of your best. But maybe let’s hop in that jacuzzi over there.”

Dean twisted his head in the direction you were pointing, and sure enough, there was a nice hot tub a few yards from the pool. You both left the pool and braced the cool air on your skin long enough to run to the jacuzzi, quietly laughing all the while.

Dean turned the dial on the heat and cranked up the bubbling, and soon you two were able to relax together in the much warmer water. He held you to his chest, his fingers dragging up and down your arm, while you just took in some deep, relaxing breaths. You let go of every bit of stress that might’ve still been clinging to your psyche.

A few minutes in, you turned your head to press a sweet kiss under his jaw. His wet scruff prickled against your lips, but you didn’t mind.

“Ever think about letting this enter beard territory?” you asked.

“Eh,” Dean shrugged, still rubbing some warmth back into your arm. “Not really my look.”

“It could be,” you said. A smile curved your lips. You turned in his arms to straddle his lap, where you got the leverage to cup his face. You gently scratched your nails along his stubbly cheeks.

He raised a brow. “You want me to go full lumberjack, don’t you?”

“Maybe not full lumberjack,” you teased. “I’d settle for quarter-lumberjack.”

Dean chuckled loud enough that you had to shush him, with your mouth covering his. His heavy hands spanned your lower back as you treated him with progressively dirtier kisses. His hands lowered to grip your ass, encouraging you to grind down on him. You were more than willing to oblige him.

Even with the light of the moon, a large palm tree covered the jacuzzi in some shade. It made the empty courtyard feel a little more secluded. You felt just secure enough with him here to reach down below the water. You slipped your hand under the waistband of his shorts, where you began to stroke his hardening length to full mast.

He groaned into your mouth and squeezed your hips on reflex.

“Better be careful, baby. You’re playing with fire right now,” he said gruffly. He had no compunctions about finishing what you’d started, right here and now.

You smirked, but you did pull your hand out of his shorts and took his hand instead.

“Come on,” you whispered.

When you and Dean made it back to the hotel room, it was a quick stop to the bathroom.

He guided you back against the tile wall in the shower and stole your breath with a hard kiss. His hand flew to the shower knob and turned on the water.

Luckily this shower had a ledge for shampoo bottles and soap. You knocked all of that shit over when you hiked your foot up on it. You raked your nails through his hair and left his lips, just to suck harder on his neck.

In turn, Dean untied your bikini with a practiced hand and let it drop with a wet thwap on the floor. He kneaded your breasts and rolled his thumbs over hardened nipples. He actually rubbed some warmth back into your skin as his hands migrated down your body. And he helped you shimmy out of the bikini bottoms, just as you helped him with the shorts.

He took a healthy grip of your bare ass and again ground you against him, making you smile against his neck. But his fingers slipping between your legs disrupted your train of thought entirely. You felt his fingertips at your entrance, probing your depths, just testing the waters first. You gave a needy hum and clung to his arms.

He chuckled near your ear. “Already soaked, huh?”

“You didn’t exactly play fair,” you said, panting for breath. He hadn’t stopped touching you all the way from the jacuzzi to the elevator. You hadn’t even completely dried yourselves, leaving a trail of water from the scene of the crime, all the way up to the third floor where your room was.

Dean earned a wanton moan from you when his fingers roughly massaged your clit. Your head pressed back against the tile wall, your hands clasping on his shoulders tight as a shudder of pleasure rippled through your body. He stroked you right to the edge of pleasure, until he could start to feel you tighten on him. Then he withdrew his hand.

You whined at the empty feeling, giving him a look of annoyance. “Dean?”

“Patience,” he smirked. He used your wetness on his fingers to stroke himself back to painfully hard.

You scoffed at his words. This man didn’t often have a patient bone in his body.

But once he was ready for you, he took advantage of the way you’d hiked up your leg, and he held you open while he positioned himself at your entrance. He took your hand and moved it down to replace his fingers on your clit.

“Keep touchin’ yourself,” he ordered. His voice became laced with both grit and desire. You followed his directions and kept circling your fingers around that sensitive bundle of nerves, even though it forced a keening moan from your throat when he pressed his cock inside you.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” he muttered. Your inner walls were squeezing on him tightly, like you were already halfway there. Dean aimed to catch up with you as he grabbed your hips and set an almost punishing pace. He wrapped your thigh around his hip so he could get an even deeper angle to his thrusts. He grabbed onto the shower head when he felt his foot slipping a bit in the tub.

You hung onto him by the back of his neck as the coil in your lower belly became dangerously tight. “Oh, fuck. Dean…”

He knew you were close. He could feel it. He replaced your fingers with his own over your clit, searching for the spot he knew always made you come undone.

And he knew when he found it—you cried out at the warm pulsing in your core as it quivered around him.

“Let go, baby,” he said roughly in your ear. He gave you a few more hard thrusts, both to draw out your orgasm and to finally reach his own. His balls clenched and a ragged groan escaped him, along with his release coating your walls.

By now, the hot water from the shower head had turned lukewarm, but neither of you really cared, blinking drops of the spray out of your eyes as you each caught your breath. Dean brushed your wet hair away from your neck. You smiled, and you guided him by his cheek, back to your lips for a softer kiss.

“‘S a damn shame you’re still on the pill,” he remarked.

You blinked in response. When his words finally registered, you burst out laughing. You pressed your forehead against his. Jesus, did this man have baby fever.

“Let’s just get married first. Then we’ll work on it, I promise,” you told him. “Besides, we don’t want to steal your brother’s thunder.”

Dean grimaced and made a sound of disgust.

“For fuck’s sake, you mind not mentioning my brother at a time like this?” he said.

To be fair, he was still deep inside you. He slipped himself out and let the shower head begin to wash away the remnants.

“Sorry, sorry,” you laughed and drew him back in for another kiss.

Despite himself, Dean couldn’t help but smile against your lips. His left hand twined with yours, where your ring glistened under the florescent light.

A year ago, he never thought he would be here. A year ago, he didn’t plan any further than tonight, and how he was going to get back to his life tomorrow.

A year ago, while he did have his brother…Dean still felt alone.

Now, he had something real. He was on the cusp of sharing the rest of his life with someone who understood him, supported him, loved him, despite the demands of his job.

Now, he had an actual future to build with you.

And he was more than ready to get started.

AN: I so hope you guys enjoyed this addition to the SE-verse. Let me know what you think! 😘❤️‍🔥

Want to read this in podfic form? (Note: A "podcast" fic is a narrated version by my lovely friend Sandra, one of the hosts of the Idling in the Impala SPN podcast.)

🎙️ Listen to the episode by clicking the thumbnail below:

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Smoke Eater Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @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 @anticxrrupt

@lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman

@brianochka @branj19 @agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92

@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

@chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @illicithallways @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

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zepskies · 1 year ago

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Thanks for the tag, hun! I love WIP games. Your sentence is very intriguing...

Mine is from my firefighter!Dean story, Smoke Eater Part 13. Thankfully it's not a spoiler 😅:

Dean still held you, with his hand rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you fell asleep.

No pressure tags: @pink-sparkly-witch @venus-haze @kaleldobrev @waywardxwords @wayward-dreamer @luci-in-trenchcoats @jacklesbrainworms @spnwoman @trektraveler @iprobablyshipit91

WIP game

@katia-anyway tysm for the tag💞💞

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

This is from my latest WIP. I was trying to avoid starting any new fics rn, but naturally the gremlin in my brain won😂😇

My last sentence:

The second he’d stepped off the elevator Steve watched as his colleagues all but swooned over the guy—Ari fucking Levinson.

= 21 tags. Challenge accepted :3

Tagging: @elskanellis @endlesstwanted @muse-of-gods @andrea1717 @basicallyahedgehog @buckyismybicycle @ladderofyears @owl-of-fandom @stargazing-enby @thebisexualmandalorian @professional-benaddict @starksvinyls @nicoline1998enilocin @greenwichmeanlime @polizwrites @notvirginawoolf @beyondtheclose @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @shealwaysreads @fragile-teacup @sunshinebuckybarnes

#wip game #tag game #smoke eater #firefighter!Dean Winchester

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taleofdaringdo · 2 months ago

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No one and I mean absolutely NO ONE will ever convince me that Evan "Buck" Buckley literally isn't Dean Winchester Firefighter AU.

He even reached Purgatory now lol

#9 1 1 #911 tv series #911 abc #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #supernatural #spnfandom #dean winchester #Firefighter Dean Winchester #gay firefighter show #Evan Buckley is Dean Winchester Coded

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 11 months ago

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Of All The Places to Meet

Summary: When the reader gets into a bad accident, she doesn’t expect to meet her true mate at the same time...

Pairing: Alpha/Firefighter!Dean x Omega!reader

Word Count: 2,500ish

Warnings: language, car accident, major injury

A/N: Enjoy!

_______

“She’s fucking jammed in there good. We need to cut her out.” You blinked open your eyes slowly, very aware of how…off the world seemed. Your head was killing you, that was for sure. Something about the fact you were upside down in your car told you that had something to do with it.

Lazily you turned your head at the scent of vanilla and tobacco, humming at the pleasant smell in the otherwise metallic and burnt rubber scented air. Beside you, crawled in your passenger window on his back, laying on top of your roof was a pair of gorgeous green eyes staring back.

“She’s awake!” called the man, his attention on you the whole time. “Hey, sweetheart. You were in an accident. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“Smell pretty,” you murmured, fighting off the urge to pass out again. “I’m gonna…”

“Miss. Miss, try to-”

Dean’s POV

“Fuck, she’s out cold again,” I said. I could see where her door was pinned against her left side. It’d be a miracle if she hadn’t shattered her hip or femur. My stomach churned once more, hands gripping the center console that was partially cracked and pushed forward.

This was not how this was supposed to happen. You don’t meet your true mate in a goddamn car wreck when she’s critically injured. You just don’t.

And now there was another problem.

Alpha’s were notoriously protective of their mates, especially true mates. That instinct skyrocketed when they were injured, even something as small as a cut thumb.

Seeing, smelling, my true mate when she was broken and battered and hurt out of her mind?

Yeah, there was no way I was going to be able to physically get away from this little omega.

“Winchester! Let the medic get in there and we’ll work on getting the driver's door off,” called Benny. My gut said to stay but I also knew she needed someone more qualified than me to attend to her at this moment. Reluctantly, I climbed out and ran around to the outside of the car, a few guys already working on ripping the metal apart.

“She’s got the neck brace on!” called the EMT. “We’re ready for whenever she’s loose.”

Twenty minutes later we finally had the door off, a backboard slipped underneath her and she was being pulled out of the vehicle.

The EMT’s packed her up and somehow she wasn’t bleeding out. There was always the chance for internal injuries though. I wandered over to the back of the ambulance, climbing into the back much to the displeasure of the two EMT’s.

“What the hell are you doing Dean?” said Benny. I chucked my helmet at him, Benny barely catching it. “De-“

“She’s my true mate. I can’t…I need to go.” He sighed but nodded.

“Let him ride with you. I’ll pick him up at county later. Dean?” I nodded as they started to close the doors. “Listen to the doctors and stay out of their way. That’s how you can keep her safe.”

I nodded as they shut the doors, my focus going to the woman strapped to the stretcher. She looked so broken, covered in blood and scrapes.

I squeezed her hand, a gentle twitch of her finger in my palm.

“You’ll be okay, Omega. I promise.”

Reader’s POV

You blinked open your eyes slowly, grateful this time you were right side up. The bed was soft and warm even if your body felt achy. A buzz was thrumming through your veins as you looked down, the drugs in your system keeping you calm as you took in the sight.

Your entire left leg was bruised. Literally every spec of skin was bruised.

And then you saw the monstrous contraption encasing it, pins holding your thigh in place. Beeping rang through the room as your heart rate shot up, eyes fixated on your wiggling toes.

“Okay. Okay, I can still walk,” you breathed out, inhaling deeply. “Hopefully.”

A wave of exhaustion hit as the door opened, an Alpha!nurse walking inside. “Well good evening Y/N! How are we feeling?”

“Shitty.” You frowned and closed your eyes again.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asked, checking the monitors and then bending your arms.

“Uh. I was driving on the highway and then I woke up here,” you said, nose twitching. “Something smelled pretty.”

He just hummed and checked your leg that wasn’t secure, offering you a smile. “I’m going to check a few things and then I’ll bring the doctor in.”

An hour later you were laying back in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to wrap your head around everything the doctor had said. Intensive physical therapy would be needed for months and even then your leg may never be a hundred percent again. You had a concussion and wouldn’t be able to drive a car for six months most likely. You’d need to take a leave of absence from work. Although that one might not be that bad actually considering how stressful it’d been lately.

On top of all that, apparently there was some creeper Alpha firefighter hanging out in the waiting area.

Waiting for you.

Because your day hadn’t been unsettling enough as it was.

Before long you were fast asleep, hoping that tomorrow you’d wake up and find out this was just a nightmare.

“Good morning Y/N!” said your nurse, Alfie. You twitched your eye, not deterring his chipper mood one bit. “Feeling any better today?”

“We’re going to have problems if you’re always this bubbly when I wake up, Alfie,” you grumbled, sighing as pain shot up your leg. “If you could just do me a favor and cut off my leg, that’d be appreciated.”

“Oh, don’t be drastic, Y/N. I know the doctor wants to wean you off the pain medicine as soon as possible but it shouldn’t be that bad.”

“Did he shatter his femur yesterday? No? When he does he can talk to me about taking away my pain meds,” you said, hitting the button for morphine but nothing coming out. “Alfie. I need something.”

“The doctor gave strict orders to have you on only over the counter-”

“It fucking hurts!” you shouted, surprised at how agitated you were. Normally you were always kind and polite to strangers. But this? You were in pain and you didn’t have the patience to be a socially acceptable human being today.

Alfie looked sympathetic but his reply was cut off when a man with disheveled hair and dirty clothes came barging in the room. Strike that. The creeper Alpha firefighter that was stalking you outside was suddenly barging in the room.

“What are you doing to her?” he spat out, venom in every word. You could hear him audibly growl as he stalked over to Alfie, the poor Alpha shrinking back like he was an Omega cornered in a dark alley.

“Hey! Get out of…” you paused when you caught his scent. The heart rate monitor beeped dangerously fast, both of them turning to you. The scary Alpha firefighter suddenly made you calm, his scent giving off clear signals.

Relax Omega. You’re safe and protected.

“You can’t be in here,” said Alfie as he got his wits back. He grabbed the firefighter, shrieking when the man growled so loud it sounded like he’d gone feral.

“Alfie’s right,” you said, pain filling your heart as you breathed deeply. You had no idea who this Alpha was but you knew his instincts were in overdrive. “You’re filthy and this is an ICU. Go home and clean yourself up. Come back this afternoon and we’ll talk then. That’s an order, Alpha.”

“Yes, omega,” he said softly, nodding once. “Are you okay?”

“Later, Alpha.” He apologized briefly to Alfie before leaving, Alfie relaxing when his scent went with him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t know how you got him to believe you like that. He was this close to snapping.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s my true mate.” Alfie raised his eyebrow and cocked his head.

“We can do a blood test. And make him take one too before we let him back in. On second thought, that’s absolutely happening.”

You raised a hand, wincing as pain pulsated through your leg. “Tell him I asked him to please take the test so he doesn’t take it out on the staff. Please.”

“Will do.” He paused as he exited the room. “I’ll talk to the doctor about your pain meds, see if we can make the steps down not so drastic.”

“Thanks Alfie.”

You were tired when you woke up after lunch and physical therapy. So much so you could barely open your eyes. You wouldn’t think you could be all that physical with a damn broken femur but after they moved and worked you to the point of shouting, you’d changed your mind quickly.

A large, calloused hand stroked your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that fell. The air smelled sweet, like pine and vanilla. “Omega. How can I help the pain?”

“You being here helps,” you murmured, his long fingers brushing away more tears. You squeezed your eyes when pain ripped through you. “They say I don’t need the morphine but I only can sleep today when I’m exhausted from the pain. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get through this.”

“With me, Omega. I’ll talk to the doctors. You were injured only a day ago. They must have missed something if it hurts so badly.” He bent down and kissed your temple, your eyes fluttering open. “Please don’t worry. I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

You stared up into his green eyes, surprised to find him smiling at you. “Why are you so handsome?”

“Makes up for my lack of singing ability,” he chuckled. He brushed your hair behind your ear, his scent coming off in powerful waves to soothe you. “I’m sorry for scaring you earlier. I know you don’t quite know me but I was one of the responders to your accident and when I scented you…my instincts went a little crazy.”

“It’s alright,” you whispered, a flash of pain rising up again. “Can you find the doctor?”

“Yes Omega,” he murmured. “Try to rest.” He got up from the nearby seat and hummed. “I’m Dean.”

“Y/N,” you said, shutting your eyes once more.

“I’ll make it better Y/N. I promise.”

Two Weeks Later

“Hey,” said Dean when he entered your hospital room. “I heard you’re getting discharged today.”

You grumbled from bed, wearing one of his fire station hoodies. He pulled the curtains open, smiling wide as you tugged the hood up.

“Aren’t you excited to be getting out of here?” He had a point. You were happy to be leaving, with some pain medication too. But your leg was still incredibly fucked and you couldn’t go back to your apartment. Not when it was on the third floor. Dean luckily lived in a ranch style but you hated imposing on him.

“I wish I didn’t have to move in with you.” His smile fell as you groaned. “I meant like this. Because I’m hurt and can’t be alone. I wish we could be like a normal pair of mates.”

“Hey,” he said. He sat on the edge of the bed by my good leg, lightly stroking over the bonding gland in my neck. “We are normal. We just need to practice a bit more patience than other true mates.”

“You mean how I can’t have sex for months until my leg is healed. It’s going to drive both of us crazy to wait.”

“We can bond, just without the knotting. We’re already scent bonded and as long as we don’t stay away from each other for too long-“

“You mean an hour tops? You’re stuck by my side for the next three months minimum. I might not walk correctly again. I might always-“

He put his hand over your mouth, annoyance rising in your veins.

“I’m your Alpha, even if you don’t bear my mark yet. I never want to hear you say you think I’m stuck with you. Being with you is the only thing I could ever want. We will figure this out and I will not mate you until you are fully recovered. Am I clear, Omega?”

The use of your title from his lips sent fuzzy, calming feelings throughout your body, your head nodding without thinking. Large fingers gently stroked your cheek, a soft hum escaping him.

“Are you ready to go home with me?”

“Okay, Alpha. You can take me home.”

“You all set?” asked Dean later that evening. You were in bed, leg propped up on some pillows. Dean had spent the day with you, helping you get discharged and set up his house so it was a bit more friendly for you to get around in.

“As good as I can be,” you said, watching him disappear into the closet, returning in a fire station shirt and a pair of skinny black joggers. “You have work?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No, no. Just getting comfy for the night. I can order us some food. I’m sure you’re starving.”

“A little,” you said, Dean sitting beside you, urging you to curl into his side. “Thank you for helping me that day. The accident.”

“It’s my job, sweetheart,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “I’m just happy you’re still here. You got lucky.”

“Hell of a way to meet your mate.” He hummed, quietly stroking your bare arm with the tips of his fingers. “I’m really glad I’m not doing this on my own.”

“You’ll never be on your own ever again, Omega. I promise.”

“I know, Alpha. My leg might never heal the same way but at least I got one good thing out of this situation.” He smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear. “This comfy ass bed.”

He rolled his eyes with a smirk, kissing the top of your head before he got up. “Alright. With that, I’m off to go be your manly Alpha and hunt down some food for us.”

“You mean order takeout?” you teased. He tossed a pillow at you, laughing lightly.

“For that I’m ordering pineapple on the pizza.” You dropped your jaw, Dean laughing a bit harder, his scent the calmest you’d ever smelled it. “I’m kidding. I’m not deranged.”

“Good cause true mates or not, that is not happening,” you said.

“Glad we can agree on it,” he said. “What about a supreme?”

“Now we’re talking,” you said. He left the room with a nod, returning a few minutes later with a soft smile. “What?”

“Nothing. Just really glad to finally have found you. It’s…easy with you.”

You knew what he meant, patting the spot next to you. He returned to your side with a smile, pulling you to rest against his chest. His scent filled the air, a relaxed cozy feeling settling in your bones.

“Yes, yes it is Alpha,” you said, taking a deep inhale, exhaling slowly. “It absolutely is.”

________

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #Firefighter!Dean #alpha!dean x omega!reader #alpha!dean #spn #supernatural #dean winchester fanfic #dean x you #dean winchester x you #abo

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nicksalchemy1 · 8 months ago

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Mientras Respiro, Espero - Part 1

Pairing: Firefighter AU Dean Winchester x Nurse!Plus-Size!Mexican!Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, a firefighter with a reputation for casual flings, finds himself longing for something more meaningful in his life. Meanwhile, you, a stubborn surgical intern, are trying to escape your past in California. When Dean loses a bet and is tasked with cleaning the trucks, your paths cross unexpectedly. Little do both of you know meeting each other would cause some problems.

A/N: “Mientras Respiro, Espero”: Spanish for “while I breathe, I wait.”

Here’s the first part of my little story. I really like writing in this universe and if part goes well, then I’ll continue posting. (I’m gonna post it anyways 🧐) Credits for inspiration again go to @zepskies !!

🚒 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2,167

Warnings: Toxic parental situation, mentions of fat-shaming, childhood trauma, and a quick old-fashioned meet cute.

Part 1 - Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Avalon, California, was a gilded cage with ocean views, where the houses were as polished as the facades people wore. It was in one such manicured home where your story paused.

“Mija, you’re wasting your life with these... these dreams of yours! ¡No seas tan estúpida!” Your mother’s voice was a razor wrapped in velvet, cutting into you as you packed the last of your belongings into an old, battered suitcase.

The room was a mausoleum of your former life, with its pristine walls adorned with academic accolades and a full-length mirror that once reflected a girl desperate to please. Now, it only mirrored your resolve.

“I’m saving it, not wasting it,” you shot back, the words tumbling from your lips like brave soldiers in battle. You tucked a framed photo of your childhood self – the one with the broadest, most hopeful eyes – into the suitcase's side.

Your mother’s silhouette filled the doorway, her arms crossed in the silent indictment. “And what about the family reputation? Our standing in the community?”

You zipped up the suitcase, and the sound of a definitive line drawn. “What about my happiness, Mamí? What about living a life that’s actually mine? With someone who won’t pick on me like I’m still a child?”

She scoffed dismissively, a sound that stung like salt in an open wound. “Esos gringos no saben nada. Happiness is a luxury for those who can afford to be foolish.”

You locked eyes with her in the mirror, your own gaze hardened like forged steel. “Then consider me a fool.”

The house seemed to hold its breath as you shouldered past her, suitcase in hand. Your father stood in the hallway, a silent sentinel. His eyes, a mirror of your own, flickered with something that might have been pride or sorrow – or both.

“Daddy,” you whispered, pausing for a moment.

He cleared his throat, a rumble from deep within. “You always were the stubborn one,” he murmured, his voice barely above a soft-spoken whisper. “Be careful. Call me anytime you need me.”

A nod was all you could muster before you descended the staircase, each step a drumbeat to your newfound freedom. The door closed behind you with a finality that echoed through your bones. The California sun dipped low, as if bowing to your courage.

The suitcase wheels rumbled against the cobblestone path, a small but sure declaration of your departure. Behind you, the house – a beautiful prison of expectation and familial duty – faded into just another part of the landscape.

You didn't look back.

Considering it was your first time flying in an airplane, first class at that, you were anxious. Not about actually being in the plane around people or the way the lady in the seat across from your aisle coffee smelled like someone took a fancy shit, but because you were moving in with a couple that you trusted yet, hardly knew.

Mary and John Winchester were rough around the edges, but they meant well. They knew what happened in your household, how toxic it was, and invited you to stay with them in Lawerence. Plus, you would be able to keep your job. Mary was head of Neurosurgery and earned you a spot as a surgical intern. Working hard or hardly working, am I right? You thought to yourself, smiling to yourself.

And boy, were these ‘gringos’ rich. Not only did they offer you that extra guest room in their house, but they also bought you your first-class seat, in which your butt was in right now.

You knew John was a respected detective, and with his income mixed with Mary’s, they made bank.

You also knew they had two sons. John and Mary mentioned their names, but you knew the youngest worked for the ADA, and the oldest worked as a firefighter.

Cool. Wonder what that's like, you tilt your head in thought.

A stable work life, home life, and family. But not all ‘picture-perfect’ families meant they were truly picture perfect.

And that was for you to figure out.

The airplane descended through the cotton candy clouds, and the world below began to take shape—a patchwork of fields and roads that would soon become your new reality. Your heart danced a nervous tango with the seatbelt across your lap, anticipation tightening with every drop in altitude.

The captain's voice crackled through the cabin, announcing the imminent landing in Lawrence. You straightened up, smoothing the fabric of your jeans as if to iron out the last creases of your past life.

When the wheels kissed the tarmac, you felt a jolt, not unlike the one that had propelled you out of your family’s house. You collected your single suitcase from the overhead bin—a symbol of your fresh start—and made your way through the aisle with a resolve that echoed the click-clack of your boots on the aircraft's floor.

The airport was small but buzzing with life, a hive of reunions and farewells. You stood for a moment at the arrival gate, scanning the crowd until you saw them.

Mary's presence was undeniable. She stood with a grace that spoke of her surgical precision, her eyes warm and welcoming. John, equally imposing in his own right, had the stance of a man who had weathered storms and could chart a course through any adversity.

They spotted you almost immediately, and Mary’s smile widened as she opened her arms. “There she is! Welcome to Kansas!”

You stepped into her embrace, the scent of antiseptic mingling with a soft perfume—a stark contrast to the oppressive aroma of your mother's overwhelming floral scents. “Thank you, Mary,” you smiled, grateful for the genuine warmth.

John extended his hand, which you shook firmly, finding in his grip the silent support of a seasoned detective. “Good to have you here. We’ve got the guest room all set up for you,” he said, his voice a deep timbre of reassurance.

You nodded, your eyes meeting his. “I can’t thank you both enough for this opportunity.”

As you walked through the airport, with Mary’s hand lightly on your back and John carrying your suitcase, you felt the weight of your old life lifting. The conversation was light, peppered with Mary’s questions about your flight and John’s quips about Kansas being the true heart of America.

Once in the car, the grilling starts. “So, how are you doing, hun?” Mary asks curiously, mainly because she’s concerned and trying to make sure you’re comfortable.

“Oh, you know, as good as you can be while moving state from state.” You remark as politely as possible, trying not to seep tension into the car ride.

“I hope you feel better. When we get to the house, you’re welcome to rest. I don’t cook very well,” She clears her throat, shrugging, “But I can give you some money to order something in?”

“I couldn’t do that, but thank you. It’s late, anyways. I’ll wait till tommorow morning.”

“Okay. Just as along as you’re comfortable.” Mary winks, a soft, motherly smile on her face.

You nod, meeting her smile with the same.

John pulls the Volkswagen van into the driveway and puts it in park, shutting the engine off. “Home sweet home.”

You sigh and step out of the car, staring at the home. The house is a two-story structure with a prominent green exterior. It features white trim around the windows and roof edges, contrasting nicely with the green. The front door is wooden with a rich, warm tone. There are two windows on the upper floor and one window on either side of the front door on the ground floor. A chimney extends from the left side of the roof, indicating a fireplace inside.

A well-maintained lawn adorned with various small plants and flowers. A concrete pathway leads to three steps up to a small porch area before reaching the wooden front door.

Mary leads you up to where your room is at and it seemed to be one of her boy’s old nurseries, but now the wall was decorated with two old band posters, The Beatles and a Zeppelin poster. Huh. The bed had a floral blanket and a navy sheet under it. There were two pillows in a white silk covers and a lamp on the beside table.

“John and I are gonna hit the hay, so, goodnight, love.” Mary waves from the doorframe, giving you one last glance before heading off.

“Goodnight,” You reply, setting your suitcase down beside your bed and lay back on your bed.

In the locker room, you changed into your scrubs, the fabric feeling foreign yet exciting against your skin. You tucked your hair under a surgical cap and checked yourself in the mirror. Ready.

The hospital corridors were a maze of activity, doctors and nurses moving with a sense of urgency that was almost palpable. You found your way to the intern's lounge, where a group of young doctors was gathered, pouring over patient charts and sipping on coffee as if it were a lifeline.

That's when you met her — Charlie Bradbury. With her vibrant red hair and a stack of comic books under her arm, she was a splash of color in the sterile environment. She noticed you immediately, her green eyes lighting up with an impish sparkle.

"Hey, you must be the new kid! I'm Charlie, your friendly neighborhood genius slash intern. Welcome to the chaos!" she greeted you with an outstretched hand, adorned with quirky rings.

"Thanks, I'm..." you began.

"Don't tell me," she interrupted playfully, "You're the one who just flew in from Cali, right? Mary's been raving about you."

You chuckled, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Guilty as charged."

Charlie showed you around, her chatter filling the spaces between the bustle of the hospital. She introduced you to the other interns, the nurses, and even the grumpy guy who ran the coffee cart. Throughout the day, you shadowed her as she confidently navigated patient care, inserting IV lines with precision and calming anxious patients with her quirky humor.

Despite the exhaustion that came with the endless rounds and the mountain of new information, you felt a sense of accomplishment. You were doing this, really doing it — and you were not alone.

In the afternoon, Mary tasked you with delivering first aid kits to the local fire department as part of a community outreach program. You welcomed the break from the hospital walls and made your way to the fire station with a box of supplies in tow.

As you approached, you noticed a firefighter washing a large, red truck — his sleeves rolled up, revealing muscular arms, and his focus never wavering from the task at hand. You hesitated for a moment before approaching.

"Excuse me," you called out, "I have a delivery from Lawrence General?"

He turned around, and you were met with striking green eyes and a smudge of soap on his cheek. He was ruggedly handsome, with a stubble that spoke of long hours and a jaw set with determination.

"Oh, hey," he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Thanks for the-"

Before he could finish, another firefighter called out to him, "Dean, we need you!"

"Sorry, duty calls," he said with a charming, apologetic grin. "Just leave the kits by the door, and thanks again."

"No problem," you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment as the moment ended too quickly. You placed the box down and watched as he jogged back to his colleagues, ready to respond to the next emergency.

The rest of your shift passed in a blur, and before you knew it, Mary was driving you back to the Winchester home. As the car hummed along the road, she glanced at you with a knowing smile.

"I hope your first day wasn't too overwhelming. You did great," she said encouragingly.

"It was definitely a day to remember," you admitted with a tired smile.

Mary's expression turned warm and excited as she announced, "Well, get ready for a family dinner tonight. John and I want you to meet our sons properly. They're excited to have you."

The thought of the evening ahead sparked a mix of nerves and curiosity within you.

"Oh, uh, okay." you replied slightly indifferent by the unexpected dinner, but the prospect of a meal with a family that wouldn’t make measure how many calories your plate has won’t be bad just because you had to meet your “landlord’s” sons. “Sounds nice.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

And there’s that! Next time. 😉

Character Introduction For This Series

Dean Winchester Masterlist

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #latina!reader #plus size!reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x reader #spn #firefighter au #supernatural #fanfic #reader insert #mexican!reader #spotify

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