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zepskies · 7 months

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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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mmelionsblog · 2 months

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go back to sleep \\ dean winchester //

it was 3 am when you bolted wide awake. your eyes were scattering the whole bedroom of the bunker. you were gasping for air, sweating so much that you sat in a pool of your own sweat. dean of course, bolted up a few seconds later when he felt commotion going on in his shared room.

“sweetheart?” his voice rasped, as he sat up from his spot to turn on the lamp from the bedside. “it felt so real,” you whispered, placing your hands in front of your face to cover yourself up. “you were gone, sam and i left alone in the world. it felt so real..” you hiccuped out, shaking a bit from the shock.

dean scooted closer to you, his arm wrapping around your body and pushed you back into him. “it was all fake hon, nothing in that dream was real.” he kissed the side of your forehead as his hand ran up and down your forearm, trying to sooth you to go back to sleep again. “i thought i lost you for good.” you sobbed out, biting your wrist to keep as much quiet as can, jack and castiel being in the room in front of your shared room. if they were even there.

“i’m not going anywhere without you.” his lips kissed the back of your head, his hand moving your hair to one of the sides to kiss your bare neck as he leaved little trails. “well dream you decided to go on a hunt alone.” you stated, sniffling. “so stupid, going on a hunt alone- who does that?” you glared at whatever was in front of you, and dean chuckled, his voice vibrating into your body.

“well you did before you met us,” he sang out teasingly, you looked back at him with the same look. “that was different. i didn’t have no family, no friends. thank goodness you guys were working the same case i was or otherwise i wouldn’t be here today.” you muttered. he hummed, “thank goodness we found you.” he kissed your lips, “now come on. we got lots of stuff to do later on today. let’s get some rest yeah?”

dean laid back onto the bed, while you had still been sit in between his legs. you hummed, nodding along with him and placing yourself on top of him, your arms wrapping around his body as you place your head carefully right on his chest. “i love you dean,” you whispered.

“i love you too sweetheart, goodnight.” he spoke, kissing your forehead. and soon enough, you heard his soft little snores in the shared room and that’s when you decided to fall asleep as well.

a/n: it’s been a fat minute since i wrote a dean fic. anyways here y’all go, it’s short but i LOVE it.

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester #sam winchester #x reader #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #dean x reader #castiel #jack kline #sam winchester x reader

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echos-scomplink · 9 months

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Y/N: *dies*

Sam: Timer starts now! When are they coming back? I say two months!

Dean: Bullshit. One month

Rowena: half a month

Jack: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Y/N JUST DIED!

Cas, scratching his chin in thought: One week

#incorrect quotes #incorrect x reader #incorrect supernatural quotes #supernatural incorrect quotes #dean winchester #sam winchester #rowena macleod #jack kline #castiel #supernatural

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luna-writes-stuff · 1 year

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The types my favourite Supernatural characters would fall for:

Includes Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Castiel, Gabriel, Lucifer, Jack Kline, Crowley, and Rowena Macleod

————————————————————————

Sam Winchester:

Surprisingly, I don’t think Sam would go for a nerd, or a bamf. No, I think he loves the gentle people most. Those who - regardless of whether or not they know about monsters - see the good in everything. Those who share a positive mindset and manage to smile through every situation. Sam has been through hell and back, and he needs that place of solitude more than he cares to admit. Someone he can run to who he knows will make him feel better. Comforting arms, gentle words, reassuring kisses: he craves those things more than anything. And he will damn well do anything he can to keep you safe from all those things he fights against. God forbid you are the one to be faced with those evils. His face always seems to light up upon seeing you. He has this habit of walking to you and wrapping his arms around you, lifting you off the ground slightly. But when he is exhausted, or something goes wrong, he will saunter, place an arm around your waist and pull you in for a side hug, his face buried in your hair, simply grateful to be back home. With you. He needs those things and we all know it.

——

Dean Winchester:

Now, Dean is the exact person to fall head over heels for nerds. People who can kick ass? Sure. But someone who knows a lot of things about a lot of different subjects? Very attractive. We all know Dean is somewhat of a nerd himself - we’ve seen it on multiple occasions - but he buries it deep down. But once you start rambling about a book series you love, or a game you’re really into, 90% chance he’ll give it a go behind your back. When you find out, he always plays the “so I can talk along” card, but let’s be honest: he’s genuinely curious. It sounds so stupid and nerdy, he wants to know what it is all about. Opposite of him, you love books. Unfortunately, he used to take advantage of this. He’d let you do all the reading while he sits in the chair beside you. Doing nothing. But he’s learned to love research with you. Somehow, it is very calming to him. He tends to let go of his emotions easier when it’s the two of you nose deep in books. And that’s something so delicate to you, because you know how Dean can be during these times. It is a sign he trusts you a lot.

——

Charlie Bradbury:

Golden retriever girlfriend golden retriever girlfriend golden retriever girlfriend golden retr-. She has a lot of nerdy hobbies, if you will. But if you are willing to participate in them, she’ll do a double take. In her eyes, you had always been attractive, but she is awkward, so she pushed those feelings down. But now you are actually interested in playing a game of DnD with her? Maybe she is over analysing things, and you are just being polite. But one event turns into two, which turns into three, which turns into four. And when she announced your fifth shared event with Dean, he’s had enough. He is the one to actually encourage Charlie to ask you out. In his words “grow a pair and get it over with”. Very inspiring. So, that day, she starts stumbling over her words. Anxiety overload. And that’s when you interrupt her and ask her out for dinner. A dinner as in a dinner date. And after that, everything just happens on its own. You don’t care what Charlie comes up with, as long as she doesn’t have to do it alone. And for her to have someone to share her interests with, is all she could really ask for. It makes her so happy, it becomes difficult to contain. All in a good manner, of course.

——

Castiel:

You guys know Folklore/Evermore (you should)? Cas would definitely be attracted to someone with those vibes. Someone calm and gentle, very laid back, bookwise, and imaginative. Perhaps an author, or a musical s/o. Someone who outs expressions and emotions through art. The look of focus and dedication on your face is simply so entrancing. Oftentimes, he’ll simply sit beside you and stare at you while you work. At first, it was very distracting and made you grow all flustered, but you got used to the feeling. Now, instead of intruding, it is soothing. He’d met you through Sam and Dean, who you knew in your youth. They kept in touch. And then one day he shows up in the middle of your bedroom, claiming he would bring you somewhere safe. And just like that, you had found yourself in the bunker. The boys had been hunting a pack of werewolves with a grudge against the Winchesters. And they had found out about you. As the pair was out, you and Cas got to know each other fairly well, and things just took off from there. He claims your works are some of the best his father ever created, and that he can spend hours looking at them, or listening to them. And he will. He actually keeps an entire journal with ideas he finds throughout his life and offers it to you, hoping to help you somehow. It’s endearing.

——

Gabriel:

Gabriel has seen some stuff, okay. He has heard and seen stories happen throughout many lifetimes. And he’s always been a sucker for a good story. If you are an author or bookworm, he’d grow enthusiastic at the thought. Sure, he loves looks, but he has a soft spot in his heart to those who love stories as much as he does. That entire Casanova attitude drops when he’s around you. He’s gentle, careful, almost as if you are the most precious cargo in the world. You have to share your works with him, would you have them. He wants to know everything he can, and everything you are willing to share with him. Read any good books? Tell him all about it. In detail. Rant about it, he doesn’t care. Late nights are spent on either the couch or on the bed. His head is in your lap as you drown yourself in a good book, reading aloud to him as he hums occasionally, letting you know he is still reading. And in exchange, he’ll tell you the things he has seen (though, only the good things). His entire personality seems to change around you, and is something he is so grateful for.

——

Lucifer:

Lucifer isn’t usually the type to fall in love quickly. But it’s all about playful banter with him. You dare argue back to him? You’re lucky you’re cute. Your initial meeting was after the whole Amara debacle, and - suffice to say - you were pissed when you saw him. You full-out shouted in his face, pointing accusing fingers and yelling words you probably shouldn’t. And he just smiled. He’d probably say something along the lines of “you’re adorable when you yell”. Now, that pisses you off even more. It takes some before you finally have a good conversation with him. And that’s when you realise, he might not even be that bad of a guy. If anything, you are the one who argues back and forth with him because you know he loves it. It’s that playful and loving mocking, you know? He lives for it and you know it. That satisfied smirk? Those joyful eyes? That’s all admiration, darling. He is taken with you from your first shouting match at him. “Asshole” “Minx” “Mister ‘I like to make others feel bad because it makes me feel good’” “Who am I? ‘I like to pile up all my emotions and stuff them down somewhere until I explode’” “You insufferable prick” “Your insufferable prick ;)”

——

Jack Kline:

Jack loves a person who lives more in the present. He worries a lot. Like, an unnecessary amount. There’s a lot of things swirling in his mind constantly. He needs a significant other who will take him on walks in nature. Someone to take him shopping just for the fun of it. Spontaneous dinner dates, taking the car to a random destination, changing the rooms just because they can. Someone who is spontaneous enough to drag him with them constantly. He needs the distractions, whether he likes to admit it or not. But he goes with you willingly. Regardless of what you say or offer; his answer always seems to be ‘yes’. He has fallen for you the moment he set eyes on you. He didn’t even know what that feeling was at first. It led to a very uncomfortable conversation with Dean. He said things he probably shouldn’t have said to Jack. He feels inexplicably happy around you, as if all worries and care simply disintegrate in your presence. It’s so relaxing to him, he doesn’t find himself wanting to part with you anytime soon. He is smitten with you and everyone can see it.

——

Crowley:

Crowley appreciates honesty more than he lets on. Does he lie? Yes. Does he do it on a daily basis? Yes. Would he lie to you? Only if he had to to protect you from something. But he needs a break from that constant nagging from demons, or the calling of the Winchesters. He needs a place to rant and sigh. Someone who he could explain all his irritations towards. But he wants that person to actually form a conversation with that person. Not just be heard, but also receive caring words. Honest words for when he needs it most. But, besides those moments, he needs someone with somewhat of an intimidating atmosphere around them. This already comes naturally when seeing Crowley, but you need that neutral face, set in stone, safe for when it’s just the two of you. Someone who can help him with difficult decisions or orders. But also someone compassionate enough to slow him down at times. Ironically, the Winchesters really like you. Crowley hates it.

——

Rowena Macleod:

Rowena is a lady and she loves to be reminded of it: take her out on dates, buy her flowers, engulf her in affection and offer her compliments on the daily. She returns the gestures twice as much. I mean, she puts spells on you just to make sure you are okay. That spell she uses for herself so she cannot die easily? She will 10/10 do that on you too. Once she finds someone to settle for, someone she truly loves, she’ll do anything for that person. Your opinion and well-being comes first, always. It’s almost as poetic as swans; she can and will dedicate her life to you. The Winchesters didn’t even know about you until Lucifer got out to look for his son. Rowena hid at your place after she was burned. You were her one safe place and she did not hesitate to run to you. She is the person to put her life on the line if it meant getting you to safety. Hell, even Crowley was in it for as long as he could. And he did a great job, because - when he was still alive - the Winchesters never found out about you. Rowena is the type to be all domestic with someone: A home, a cat, cooking in kitchens - though she does love fancy restaurants. At first you wouldn’t really believe it, but she would love to get settled down somewhere. As long as it means she gets to keep her craft there as well.

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supercap2319 · 2 months

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Y/N came down the stairs of the bunker towards the library. He had a stupid grin on his face, and he was carrying various Valentine's Day items. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

He hands the brothers, Cas, and Jack each a gift to commemorate this special occasion. He hands Castiel a heart-shaped box of chocolates. "Slut." He affectional calls the angel of the Lord. Cas opens the box and picks up a chocolate, and takes a bite before scarfing down the rest.

Y/N hands Jack at Teddy Bear. "Sweet face." Jack enthusiastically hugs the toy and introduces himself to the bear.

He looks at Dean. "Bitch." He hands him a store bought pie shaped like a heart as Dean's green eyes lighten up with joy.

Finally, he looks at Sam and hands him flowers. "For the sexiest guy that I know." Sam blushed and took the flowers and smelled them with a smile on his face.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #supernatural #sam winchester #castiel #dean winchester #jack kline #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #misha collins #alexander calvert #valentine's day

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delulu4dean · 9 months

Text

Emergency Room

Warnings: trauma, throwing up, surgery, hospital, swearing

Parings: Dean x sister!reader, Sam x sister!reader

Summary: reader gets emergency surgery, Sam and Dean make sure reader is recovering properly

Word Count: 3,517

It was one in the morning when your screaming and sobs woke your older brothers up. They ran to your room to find you on the floor, throwing up as you clutched your stomach in pain. You’ve been feeling some abdominal pain, and figured maybe the drinking finally caught up to you, even though you didn't drink that often. It wasn’t bad pain, just mild, so you let it be. In the past few nights the pain got worse though, and you lost sleep, staying up until the pain went away. It was some temporary attack of pain, two hours every night. But you managed, so you ignored it.

It was two in the morning, your brothers holding you up in the emergency room, demanding they hurry up and take you into a room. You’ve been crying for the past hour now, unable to stop from the pain. You thought to yourself, this is it. This is when you die. The pain has been switching from dull to sharp, and as you felt a wave of sharp pain jolt through your abdomen again, you screamed.

“She needs a bed right now,” Dean’s voice boomed through the waiting room. “She needs a doctor. She’s been like this for the past hour!”

“We’re prepping a bed right now,” the nurse assured Dean. Sam leaned you onto Dean, and you clung onto your eldest brother.

“Sammy, where are you going?” Dean asked, as he held you close.

“Just getting a wheel chair.”

Only a minute later, Sam returned with a wheel chair, and your brothers sat you down. Sam started filling out paperwork, while Dean held your hand, assuring you everything will be alright.

“Dean, I don’t want to die,” you sobbed, huddled over, hugging your stomach.

“Hey, hey, you’re not going to die. How long have you been feeling like this?” Dean rubbed your back.

“For the past four months. But it wasn’t this bad.”

“You should’ve told us, kid. We could’ve gotten this sorted.”

“I didn’t want to worry you, I thought it was nothing.”

“Y/N Winchester?” a nurse called out.

It was three in the morning when you were laying in a bed, a cold gel placed on your skin. You were getting an ultrasound, after the blood work and EKG came back normal. You winced as the technician pressed down on your side. Sam and Dean were there, telling you it’s alright. But with the cold gel and the pain you felt far from alright.

It was four in the morning when you were rushed in for surgery. You had a massive blockage in your gallbladder, from gallstones. Doctor told you it’s not incredibly uncommon at your age. Less likely, but not uncommon. Luckily the gallstone hasn’t ruptured anything, or caused bad swelling, so an emergency laparoscopic surgery was possible. The last thing you saw was doctors over your head. Things got fuzzy, as your eyes got droopy.

✰✰✰✰✰

White. Your vision is white first, and as it becomes clearer, you find yourself looking at the bright fluorescent lights in the recovery room. You try to move your arms, but your body still feels heavy. The most you can do is lift your head and look around. You feel like you’re unable to speak, but you try and try until you get a nurse to come over to you.

“Your brothers went to the cafeteria, I called them to let them know you’re out of surgery. They should be here soon,” she smiles at you.

After a couple of minutes you felt like you could move but as you tried to sit up, you feel too weak to support yourself, and your stomach hurts too much.

“Hey hey, lay down, we’re here,” Dean says, walking towards you. “We’re here now, and you’re alive and okay. They said you should be able to go home by 6am.”

“The surgery was minimally invasive, so you should be better and feeling one hundred percent in two weeks,” Sam smiles at you. “You did it. The hard part is over.”

The hard part is not over.

The surgeon comes up to you and your brothers, handing a packet to Sam.

“Give her fifteen minutes, then you can take her home, we’re getting the discharge papers ready. And we prescribed oxycodone for the pain, take only as needed. And when the pain becomes more mild to moderate, switch to ibuprofen,” the doctor explains.

“What about the pain before I can get to a pharmacy?” you ask.

“I’ll get someone to get you something.” And with that, the doctor walks off.

After a minute, the nurse from before comes in, and puts something in your IV. You look at her confused.

“What are you putting in there?” Dean asks for you.

“Fentanyl, for the pain. Just a little bit.”

“You’re giving my baby sister fentanyl?” Dean’s eyes widen.

“Dean, the doctor ordered it, they know what they’re doing,” Sam sighs. “It’s not like Y/N isn’t going to be on narcotics for the next two weeks.”

“She doesn’t need all this, she’s a Winchester.”

“Dean, please,” you plead, looking up at your brother. He can’t say no to you.

“You really need it for the pain?” he asks you, softly. You only nod in response.

After a little, Sam signs your discharge papers, while Dean puts you in a wheelchair to wheel you to Baby. You sit shotgun so you can recline the seat to a comfortable position. It hasn’t hit you yet, because you’re woozy from the drugs, but you have one less organ now. Sure it’s a tiny one that only aids in digestion, but it’s gone now.

Back at the bunker, the boys help you in slowly. You insist you can walk. You should walk. Walking five minutes a few times a day following a surgery reduces risk of blood clots. But the stairs, that’s the problem. You don’t even want to attempt to walk down the stairs.

“I’m alright over here,” you quaver.

“Hey, we’ll take it slowly,” Sam promises you, his voice gentle. “Take my hand, Dean and I got you.”

You take a deep breath, nodding. Then you take the first step. And the second step. And ever so slowly, you reach the bottom of the stairs. You look back up at them and decide you’re not leaving the bunker until you feel 100% again, because no way in hell are you going to do that again like this. You let go of your brothers hands, and walk over to your room, them following close behind to make sure you’re alright.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Dean asks you.

“I just wanna sleep.” You yawn and sit down on the recliner chair you got for when you played your video games.

“Do you want me to get you anything for lunch?” Dean asks again.

“Mmm something light on the tummy. I can’t have anything fatty or greasy or with too much dairy for the next month,” you pout. But the pout is quickly replaced with a smile when you think of something to eat. “I want some veggie pho please. I’ve been craving pho, I love love love pho.”

Dean nods, and helps you recline the chair.

“But get some sleep, you and Sam have been up all night with me,” you reach out to your brother’s hand. “At least nap.”

“We’re fine, kid.”

“And I’m fine too. I’m just going to sleep.”

“Don’t you want to sleep in your bed?”

“It’s easier to get up if I need to like this. Plus I got some vomit on my sheets.”

“Okay. You sleep, I’m going to clean that up right now.”

Dean kissed your forehead, and you lay back and sleep.

✰✰✰✰✰

You open your eyes to see Sam coming in with a bag of food. He had a smile plastered across his face while Dean, who’s following right behind him, looks angry.

“Mmm, hello,” you greet them, softly.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Sam sits beside you.

“I’m feeling alright,” you answer, sitting up. You wince as you do, but it could be worse. “Why is Dean all pissy? And why are you all happy?”

“Sam decided since you have to eat all healthy now, that we all should.” Dean crosses his arms.

“Ah right. It sucks, even after I’m healed, I’m still gonna have to eat like this because my digestive tract is not used to having one less organ. I’m going to be shitting like crazy.”

“Ew come on, I already have to eat healthy, I don’t want to hear you talk about poop,” Dean grimaces.

“Most healthy food is icky, but pho is just the best. My comfort meal,” you smile.

“Do you want to eat in here? You don’t need to get up if you can’t. We can bring you a little table to eat here if you want,” Sam rambles on.

“I want to eat with you guys,” you insist, getting up from your chair slowly.

The three of you walk to the table in the kitchen and you sit down. You lean over to eat, but you groan, your abdomen too weak to support you right now.

“Hey, let me help you,” Dean says, grabbing a spoon.

You watch his hand as he dips the spoon in the bowl, and brings the spoon up to your lips. It’s a little embarrassing, being babied like this from your older brothers. But you miss being their little baby sister too. You slurp up the soup and smile at Dean. Dean takes turns between feeding you and himself, asking you every now and then if you’re okay. You nod each time.

After eating, you get up, placing a hand on your back, almost holding yourself up as you walk.

“Hey, where are you going?” Dean asks, running up to you.

“I’m just going to take a walk around the bunker,” you let him know.

“Dean, stop smothering her, if she needs us, we’re here,” Sam tells Dean. Sam is the more rational of the two, so it makes sense he’s not as worried as Dean is.

Dean, on the other hand, is extremely protective. There’s no way he’s going to let his little sister be alone, even walking around the bunker. He places his hand on your back to support you. You roll your eyes.

“Dean, I’m a big girl,” you remind him.

“I don’t care how old you, you’re my sister. And you just got surgery done. What if you fall, or half way through the walk you get tired and you can’t walk back to your room?”

You sigh and give in to your brother’s help. It’s not that you don’t like the time with him, you do. But you don’t want to be babies so much. You spend a lot of time proving to your brothers how good of a hunter you could be, and now they see you as fragile again.

After a smoothie for dinner, and a couple of more walks here and there, you are already sleepy again. Not like anyone could blame you. The surgery, and the narcotics you took right before dinner and all the walking have you feeling sleepy.

You’re standing at the foot of your bed, debating if you’ll sleep in your recliner again or if you want to give your bed a try. Ah, what the hell, there’s always tomorrow to sleep in your bed. You grab your blanket and sit in the recliner, kick back, and close your eyes. It’s not easy to actually sleep though. You’re used to rolling around, sleeping on your side, stomach, and occasionally your back. But laying on you back, without being able to roll around? Not easy.

✰✰✰✰✰

You’re on an operating table, no doctors around. You’re wide awake, but unable to move. One look down, and your stomach is cut open, your organs spilling out of the cavity in your body. You let out a scream.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Dean bursts in through the door.

Your eyes shoot open and you look around, disoriented. You don’t know where you are at first.

“Where am I? Is it done? Did I die?” you panic.

“Woah, woah, you’re home. You’re in your room. You’re alive,” Dean assures you.

You let out a little gasp of pain and hold your stomach. The medicine wore off and you must’ve been dreaming about the pain. Dean brushes his thumb over your cheek only for you to realize he’s wiping your tears away.

“Did you have a bad dream?” He crouches down in front of you, as you manage to sit up. You nod, shoulders shaking as you let the cries come out.

“It was awful, I was open on an operating table, and… fuck, my stomach hurts Dean.”

Your brother wraps his arms around your shoulders. You cry for a little, letting it all out. You and Dean don’t say a word to each other, because nothing needs to be said. He knows you don’t feel okay, and you know you’re safe with him.

“I didn’t wake Sam up too, did I?” you ask.

Dean knows better than to lie to you, so he doesn’t. “Yeah, but I told him I got it, and that I’d wake him up if it was anything serious.”

You nod in response. Dean reclines your chair for you, so you can sleep, but he doesn’t leave your side. He sits at the edge of your bed, and runs his fingers through your hair, humming. Dean was awake with you the whole time at the hospital and now he’s awake with you again.

“Dean, you need to get some sleep,” you frown.

“I’m fine right here, baby sister.”

“ ‘M not a baby,” you mumble.

Dean hushes you as he resumes humming to you.

The next time you open your eyes, it’s morning, and dean is asleep on your bed. You carefully get up from the chair, taking your time. Then you shuffle your feet across the bunker floor, all the way to the bathroom. You lower yourself onto the toilet, and pull your phone out, and spend the next fifteen minutes scrolling through twitter. You’re startled as someone knocks on the door.

“Y/n, are you alright in there?” It’s Dean.

“Yeah, I’m just trying to… ya know, poop,” you tell him. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“Do what?” he asks through the door.

“Poop! I can’t poop! It hurts too much to push the poop out! Is that what you want to hear?” you groan, getting up from the toilet, pulling your pants up. You flush and wash your hands and open the bathroom door.

“You can’t poop?” Dean asks.

“My stomach hurts too much and I feel too weak to do it. I don’t want my stomach to get all backed up. If I can’t poop in two days I need to get laxatives,” you sigh.

“We will cross that bridge when we get to it,” Dean places his hands on your shoulders. “Sammy made breakfast.”

You nod, and walk over to the kitchen with Dean following closely behind you. You sigh, feeling like your brother is being a little too protective. But hey, Dean raised you, he’s going to be protective. Dean has been raising you since your mom, another hunter, died on the job. He’ll always see you as the baby you were when John brought you home.

Sam made some vegetable omelets for the three of you to eat. While you eat your breakfast, you take out your meds and swallow a pill with the meal. Sam asks you how you’re feeling and you tell him you’re feeling better than you thought you'd be. And after the medicine kicks in, you feel a lot better.

✰✰✰✰✰

The next week is filled with nightmares, lots of them. The ones combined with sleep paralysis as soon as you woke up are the worst, because even with your eyes open, the fact your stomach hurt and you were unable to move makes you think you’re back on the operating table. You’re eating, sure. Just enough. But you’re eating a lot less than usual, because you’re scared of what eating can do to you. It was good tasting food that triggered the gallstone attack that night, and you don’t want to eat like that ever again. Last night you woke up to yourself picking at the medical glue on your stomach. Nothing was bleeding, luckily but it still grossed you out.

The mood swings following surgery aren’t great either. It’s less a side effect of the surgery itself, and more a side effect of the drugs and the sleep deprivation. The first hour on the meds are great, you feel fine. Not euphoric, but you feel good. And then the good wears off and you feel like shit. So five days ago you decided to get off the narcotics. No pain is worth a drug dependency like this. Switching to the strong dosage of ibuprofen they’ve prescribed to you doesn’t sound too bad.

A week since surgery, and you’re up and walking almost like normal. Stairs aren’t too bad. Every fifteen minutes of walking you’re a little out of breath, but definitely better than you were a week ago. You just can’t wait for Jack and Castiel to come back, they can heal you. They’re off in heaven worrying about angel business. Of course you know if you prayed to them, they’d come back in a heartbeat. But you don’t want that. Especially from Cas. Cas has always been so selfless with you and your brothers, it doesn’t seem fair. But your face lights up, as you see the two walk into the bunker. They’re back.

“Cas! Jack!” you cheer.

“Hey, y/n!” Jack runs down the steps and runs up to hug you.

“Ow, shit,” you since in pain.

“What’s wrong,” Cas looks at you as he comes down the steps.

“I got my gallbladder removed,” you explain, lifting your shirt to expose your tummy.

“You should’ve told us. Just one prayer and we could’ve been here for you,” Jack frowns.

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters. It was minimally invasive, two week recovery until I’m basically one hundred percent, it’s not a big deal, Jack.”

“If you can, heal her,” Dean begs as he walks in. “She has not slept in her bed since she got back. I’ve been sleeping in her room to make sure she’s okay.”

“And I am okay, physically I’m fine!”

“Y/n, just let me heal you,” Jack pleads.

“Fine, I guess it would be nice to sleep in my bed,” you say.

Jack heals you, and you pick the glue off your stomach.

“Sweet, no scars!” You smile softly.

“How are you feeling, mentally?” Dean asks you.

“Mentally, I’m fine,” you insist.

“You’re not fine. You’re sleep deprived. Don’t think I haven’t caught on, I’ve been sleeping in your room with you. You’ve been having nightmares, you’re barely eating, you’re stressed, and a lot more quiet than you used to be. And like a Winchester, you’re keeping it all to yourself.”

“Dean-“

“Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m not going to push it. But I’m here when you do feel like you can talk about it,” Dean says.

✰✰✰✰✰

Jack and you are sat on your bed. You should be sleeping, but you haven’t slept in your bed in a week and it feels weird now. Jack is close to your age… sort of… physically close to your age, it’s why you two are close friends.

“What was Dean talking about?” Jack asks you.

“Ah, knew you’d bring it up eventually. I’ve been having nightmares, about the surgery. It’s weird, it was so minor, but the pain before the surgery, I thought I was going to die. And waking up after surgery is so weird. It felt like sleep paralysis, which I’ve had during the past week as well. And taking narcotics then having to stop them because they felt a little too good wasn’t great. I just- I don’t know. I feel like I’m overreacting, I’m fine now. Especially thanks to you.”

It felt good to let it all out and talk to someone about it.

“Does Dean know?” Jack asks.

“Of course Dean knows, I don’t have to tell him, he knows. I don’t know if Sam caught on. Sam has been in charge of making sure I eat, he’s been making food that doesn't upset my stomach. And taking me on morning walks.”

“Your brothers love you a lot,” Jack says.

“Yeah. I got to admit, the attention was nice. Except with Dean following me almost everywhere. I mean like waiting outside while I showered in case I slipped,” you chuckle.

“You’ll feel like your old self again soon,” Jack assures you. “I can stay until you fall asleep if you want. Or even all night, in case you have another nightmare.”

“Thanks Jack.”

You turn off the light, lay down, and close your eyes.

#supernatural #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #Dean Winchester #sam Winchester #jack kline #castiel

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pinchofhoney · 7 months

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Can I get a Jack request where reader is like castiel level protective over him? Like it could he during the time he was burning away his soul, or Dean just attacking him and reader getting super protective? Thanks <3

Also thank you sm for being my mutual <333

like real people do

jack kline x reader

word count: 1.6k

warning: the events were made up by me, but in time they probably take place in thirteenth season, platonic relationship

summary: Ever had one of those days when life just can't get any worse?

a/n: thank you so much for your request!! once i read the first four words and found out it was about jack i was so happy! this character makes me feel like hiding him in my jacket pocket and protecting him from the whole world, including my favourite white boy; dean. i hope you will enjoy it!!<33 it's so funny that we clicked so quickly because of ketch hahah

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

What does it mean to have a bad day? For some, it might involve a pointless hunt for a missing sock in the early hours. Others might deem it a disastrous day if they find themselves in a nerve-wracking business meeting, their professional future hanging by a thread, only to be unexpectedly showered in scalding coffee. But let me tell you, what went down in South Dakota, well, that was beyond any bad day anyone's ever had.

Walking down the bunker's cold, metal stairs, your eyes stayed fixed on Sam's broad back. The echoes of two more pairs of footsteps behind you added an unspoken burden to all four of you. The lengthy, six-hour drive from Sioux Falls passed in silence, punctuated only by the occasional growl of Dean's car engine.

In the midst of this oppressive silence, a tangible anxiety filled the atmosphere, much like the sensation of holding a grenade with a fragile safety pin. Each of you knew that speaking the first word out loud could be equivalent to pulling that pin, possibly setting off a surge of emotions and consequences you weren't prepared to deal with at that moment.

As you finally reached the colossal table stationed at the heart of the spacious room, you wearily rested your hands on the chair's backrest, your head drooping in helpless resignation. A deep sigh escaped your lungs, carrying the weight of the day's exhaustion. In the stillness that followed, you could discern Sam's chair scraping against the floor on the opposite side of the table as he settled himself heavily into it and Dean's footsteps resonated down the corridor, indicating his retreat to the kitchen.

Lifting your exhausted head, you gave a quick once-over to your disheveled clothing, recognizing its disorder. It had not only withstood the harsh impact of multiple falls today but was also stained with splotches of blood. Nervously, you ran your hand through your hair, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. Pushing away from the chair, you turned on your heel, scanning the room with a sense of restless anticipation.

You stopped your gaze on the young man by the stairs, who had stayed there the whole time. His face showed a mix of confusion, sympathy, and regret. Your lower lip was gently caught between your teeth as you pondered your next steps. When his gaze met yours, you drew a shallow breath. His appearance wasn't any better than yours, but because he was still Lucifer's son, he appeared more composed than you.

With determination, you approached him step by cautious step until you were standing alongside him. “Jack, are you alright?” you asked, your voice reflecting genuine worry. A quick glance back at Sam, who remained seated at the table, revealed that he was now observing your interaction. You then shifted your attention back to Jack, waiting for his response.

Jack's reply hung in the air like a heavy cloud, his voice a somber murmur that revealed the depth of his guilt. His gaze dropped to his fidgeting hands, fingers twisting in anguish as he confessed, “It's all my fault...”

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy as you witnessed the torment in Jack's eyes. In an attempt to ease the crushing weight of his self-blame, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” you said gently, your voice a soothing balm, “you're not alone in this. None of us expected it to go down like that.”

Sam, the voice of reason, chimed in from his seat at the table. His tone was calm and reassuring as he added, “Jack, we knew it wouldn't be easy. We'll figure this out together.”

Jack looked up at both of you. His eyes were pools of sorrow, and he seemed on the brink of tears, even though he didn’t know what emotions are. “But you guys almost got killed because of me. I couldn't control my powers, and I let them get too close.”

Before you could offer words of reassurance, Dean's voice cut through the room like a sharp blade, “That’s damn right,” he snapped. His anger was palpable, and you could feel the tension rise as he entered with a bottle of beer in his hand. You had been so focused on Jack's emotions that you hadn't noticed Dean approaching.

Your attention shifted to Dean, and it was clear that he had no intentions of concealing his rage. Such suppression was never in his nature. He scrutinized both of you with an intense gaze, his jaw clenched tight, the lines of his face etched with frustration and anger.

Dean proceeded to the table, his movements forceful as he shoved one chair back with a grating screech before taking a seat. The bottle of beer landed on the table with a heavy thud, emphasizing his simmering anger, and the room seemed to shrink with the weight of his emotions. It was a moment where words hung in the balance, and the fragile tension in the air threatened to shatter at any moment.

Jack’s connection to his human emotions was weak, but regret had clear place in his eyes, keenly sensed Dean's anger. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he shifted uncomfortably, his body language a reflection of the confusion within him. In a moment of desperation, he cast a furtive glance in your direction, silently pleading for support, his eyes searching for any sign of comfort.

You, on the other hand, found yourself torn between conflicting emotions. Your heart ached for Jack, understanding the crushing guilt that weighed on him, yet you also knew the importance of not undermining Dean's authority. It was a delicate balancing act that you had become all too familiar with, navigating in these tense moments.

Dean finally broke the oppressive silence, his voice laced with bitterness that hung in the air like a heavy cloud. “You know, Jack, your little power surge not only almost got us killed, but it also cost us Castiel at the very beginning of your existence. You may not remember, but he sacrificed himself to save you.”

Jack's expression remained stoic, but his eyes bore the weight of remorse as he regarded the hunter. “I didn't ask him to,” he replied, his voice carrying the burden of the past.

Dean's face remained unyielding, his anger unwavering in the face of Jack's distress. He leaned forward, his gaze locked on the young Nephilim. “Doesn't change the fact that he's gone because of you.”

The room seemed to shrink with the intensity of the moment, emotions swirling like a storm around the three of you. Jack's regret was a silent force, Dean's anger an unrelenting presence, and you, caught in the middle, felt the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a heavy shroud.

You decided to step in, taking a deep breath to calm yourself as you tried to ease the heavy tension in the room. You spoke gently, "Dean, listen," in a calm and careful way, "Jack didn't want these powers, and he didn't want Cas to save him. None of us knew this would happen."

Dean looked at you, his anger softening just a bit as he heard your caring tone. You had been through a lot with the Winchesters, so you knew how emotions could run high.

But Dean, being stubborn as ever, couldn't let go of his anger towards Jack. He narrowed his eyes at you and replied with bitterness,

“Yeah, well, empathy won't bring Cas back,” he retorted, the pain of loss seeping through every syllable. “Neither will help any of the people who have been harmed today, because of him.”

Jack, still struggling to contain his emotions, lowered his head in acknowledgment. He understood the depth of Dean's anger, and he carried the weight of guilt knowing that nothing he said could bring back the angel who had given his life to protect him.

You exchanged a quick, supportive glance with Jack, a silent understanding passing between you two. Then, you turned your steady attention back to Dean, determined to break through the walls of resentment that had formed around him. “We're all hurting, Dean,” you said, your voice laced with sincerity. “But pointing fingers and blaming Jack won't change the past. We have to move forward together if we're going to face the challenges that lie ahead.”

Dean's jaw clenched, and he took another long, deliberate sip from his beer bottle, as if using the act as a moment of respite from his simmering anger. It was clear that he was still seething, but your words had managed to make some impact, no matter how small.

“Fine,” he grumbled, his anger not completely gone but his tone less harsh. He reluctantly agreed to try and move forward, but he was still stubborn. “But don't think for a second that I'm okay with any of this.”

You nodded, acknowledging Dean's raw emotions. “We know you're not, Dean. But we're a team, and we need to stick together.”

Jack, encouraged by your words and Dean's reluctant acceptance, finally found the courage to speak up again. “I promise, I'll do everything in my power to make amends and prove myself to all of you.”

Dean's gaze remained fixed on his beer bottle, and while he didn't offer immediate forgiveness or approval, he also didn't object further. It was a tenuous truce, fragile as glass, but it was some kind of a start, and everyone knows that the beginnings are always the hardest.

#platonic relationships #no use of y/n #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #jack kline #jack kline fanfiction #jack kline imagine #jack kline scenario #jack kline x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #alexander calvert #alexander calvert fanfiction #alexander calvert x reader

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kazuiislazy · 9 months

Text

MY SILLY MASTERLIST!! 🥳

Basically a masterlist of stuff i write except i haven't really written much (haha, i'm crying, i'm so busy rn)

Supernatural "Don't Leave." [Dean Winchester x reader]

"You're Perfect To Me." [Jack Kline x reader]

"Oblivious or Obvious?" [Castiel x reader]

some spn characters as college/highschool students [no pairing, just headcanons in general]

"Entranced." [Castiel x reader]

"Stop Pulling Away." [Sam Winchester x reader]

"No One Deserves That." [Dean Winchester x reader]

"Don't Stop." [Sam Winchester x reader]

"Take My Hand." [Dean Winchester x reader]

"All For You." [Michael x reader]

"Kill For You." [Michael x reader]

"You Drew Stars Around My Scars.." [Dean Winchester x reader]

LOTR/Lord of the Rings

"There's No Need To Apologise." [Aragorn x reader]

"The Plan." [Aragorn x reader]

"What's There To Like?" [Aragorn x reader]

Shadow & Bone

"You Should Be Scared Of Me." [The Darkling x reader]

"Did You Just-" [Kaz Brekker x reader] "Promise Me?" [Kaz Brekker x reader]

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mirkwoodshewolf · 1 year

Text

Very first time; Jack Kline x reader smut

*Author’s note*

Okay well this has been sitting in my inbox collecting dust for awhile but after a few weeks of work and planning (and some major procrastinating) I FINALLY came around and got to this request so @gabrielasilva1510 this is for you and thank you for being soo patient with me.

Now this is a SMUT fic so there is some sexual content in here so any minors that follow me LOOK AWAY!!!! DO. NOT READ THIS STORY!!! it’s not hardcore smut but still a smut story nevertheless.

Warnings: sexual content, fluff, camping fun, P in V sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), references to other fandoms and movies.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@queensdivas

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

__________________________________________________________

I was putting the sleeping bags as well as the tent set into the jeep while Jack was coming in bringing the cooler with the drinks.

“You sure the drinks won’t get warm on the way up there?” he asked me.

“Babe that’s why we’re getting ice at the gas station. Besides this jeep needs gas too while we’re at it because somebody forgot to fill the tank!” I proclaimed while turning to Sam.

“Okay how long are you gonna hang this over my head?”

“As long as it takes. You know how many times Dean and I have told you about that? Whoever gets the gas tank under a 100 miles, fills the tank.”

“See even she can remember the rules.” Said Dean coming in eating a ham, turkey, pastrami and bacon sandwich he had made. Sam rolled his eyes and I said after closing the back door.

“Okay I think that’s everything.”

“So we can leave now?” asked Jack excitedly. I nodded.

“I still don’t feel comfortable with you two going on this camping trip by yourselves.” Dean said.

“Dean, just because many of our early cases took place during a camping trip doesn’t mean it’ll happen to us. Unlike those guys, we know the warning signs for Wendigo’s, werewolves, vamps and even faeries.” Dean glowered at me at mentioning the fairy thing to him.

“Did you at least pack the basic protection?” Sam asked.

“And not just against monsters.” Dean added. My face went red and Jack started to say.

“You mean protection as in con—”

“Do you really need to say that Dean? We’re not gonna do anything like that!”

“Can’t go wrong. Plus I don’t want you coming back and making us uncles just yet.”

“Jesus you are such a pervert.” I groaned.

“But seriously (Y/n), you do have some form of protection? In both matters.” Sam asked me.

“Yes Sam and please don’t agree with Dean about the latter suggestion.” He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay Jack get in the car, we’re outta here.” He did as I told him and I got into the driver seat and started the engine. “See you bitches in a week. And do me a favor, don’t blow this place up while we’re gone or have another end of the world crisis on our hands.”

“We’re Winchesters, we make no such promises.” Dean said as he munched on his sandwich once again.

“Have a good time you two, be safe.” Sam told us.

“Yes Ranger Sam.” I teased before putting the jeep into drive and soon Jack and I left the bunker garage and drove down the road to the nearest gas station to get ice as well as fill up the car.

After doing all that and filling the cooler with ice for the drinks, I got back into the jeep and started up the engine.

“Okay Jack, since we’ve got full control over the radio, what genre of music shall it be today?”

“I did enjoy that 80’s playlist you made. Especially after you showed me that show Odd Things.”

“You mean Stranger things babe. Alright 80’s it is.” I went through my phone and opened up my music playlist and scrolled through until I found my 1980s Greatest songs playlist. Sure Dean may say that everything after 1979 sucks, but he clearly hadn’t heard some of these artists like Kate Bush, Prince, Queen’s later music in the 80’s, Whitney Houston, A-Ha, and of course my man Phil Collins.

I first played the song ‘In the Air tonight’ to get us started on the open road. Jack particularly began to realize why I loved Phil Collins so much. Yeah he was cool in his Genesis days but when he branched out into his solo career, the dude truly shined.

After an almost 2 hour drive and almost reaching the end of our playlist with Cyndi Lauper we arrived at the camp grounds. I parked the car and both Jack and I got out of the car and stretched ourselves out before entering the check-in lodge before we had to drive to our reserved camping spot.

“Good afternoon, how can I help you?” the woman behind the desk said.

“Hi we’re checking into lot A113, reservation is under Winchester.” She typed up my reservation on the laptop and said.

“(Y/n) Winchester?”

“That’s me.”

“Great, and you’re staying with us for a week. Here’s a map of all the areas you can hike, or visit the various lounges or restaurants we’ve got here. And for staying here a week with us that’ll be $210.25 will that be cash or credit?”

“Credit, please.” I said getting out my card and handing it to her. A quick swipe and the payment was done.

“Okay you are all set. Hope you and your boyfriend have a good time.”

“Oh we will, especially after the few months we had. We deserve this.” I said putting my card away and gathering up the stuff she had handed me. I saw Jack admiring some of the portrait paintings along the wall and took his hand. “C’mon babe, let’s get to our spot and set up camp.” He nodded and I guided him out the lodge and we went back into the car.

I turned the engine on and drove off towards our camping spot. Good thing about this camp ground is that while we are out in the woods, there was still access to bathrooms, showers, and of course food joints and restaurants. Plus everyone has their own private little spot to make their camp so no one has to be cramped in a giant forest space.

Jack and I looked around until he spotted the signs that lead us to our section and as we drove down the trail I softly let out a yes as I fist bumped.

“Thank god the showers aren’t that far away.”

“That’s a good thing right?”

“I mean I don’t mind the walk but still, it’s better for night time shower people like me. I mean seriously I don’t get why people shower in the mornings, you’re just gonna get sticky and gross at the end of the day and I don’t wanna sleep like that.”

“That is strange. Glad you told me about it when I was first trying to understand the ways of humans.”

“There are certain things my brothers can teach you but everything else, just ask me. I got your back.”

“Just as I got yours.” He said as he placed his hand on top of mine. I smiled and gave it a loving squeeze as he pointed out. “Is that us?”

“Uhh yeah this is us.” I turned along the gravel road and pulled into our little hill mound parking spot and turned the engine off. “We’re here at last. No more driving for the rest of the day please.”

“You know I could’ve drove us from the check-in lodge. Dean says I’ve been improving with Baby.”

“I know you have sweetie but driving Baby and driving this jeep are two totally different things. Plus you haven’t gotten enough experiences on dirt road like these. All the bumps, twists and turns and I’m not that good of a driving teacher. As I’m sure my brother told you, I was a wreck when learning to drive Baby. Can’t do a stick to save my ass.”

“It’s not that hard once you get used to it. Maybe I could teach you.”

“As sweet as that is, one Dean would never let you do that and two I don’t want to ever drive Baby again.” I pecked his cheek and continued, “C’mon, let’s unload the car.” We unbuckled ourselves and got out of the jeep as I opened the back door and first grabbed the cooler while Jack grabbed the tent.

After unloading the car and unfolding the tent from the bag, Jack got the bag that was filled with the tacks and poles that we needed to keep the tent in place and standing up.

“Okay so—I’ve never really put a tent up before but I have seen people do it in tv and movies. Is it really as hard as they show it?” asked Jack.

“Depends on the tent, luckily for us this tent it’s fairly easy to put up. Mind helping me spread out the tent first before we get the poles and tacks down?” he nodded and came over and went on the other side of the tent. Together we grabbed each end of the tent and pulled it as far apart as we could. “Okay now grab that bag with the poles and tacks.” He looked around until he saw just a few feet to his left was the bag.

He tossed it over to me and I opened it up and pulled out the poles first.

“Now what I want you to do is connect this set first and I can do the other set. Once they’re connected, I’ll show you how to put them through the tent.” He grabbed the first set of poles and began to connect them together while I did the second row.

“Like this?” he showed me after he had gotten one set together already.

“That’s it. Make sure they’re in as tight as you can get them. Can’t risk the tent caving in on itself.” I said as I twisted my set in before they finally connected with each other.

It took a few minutes but we finally got our poles connected and then I showed him where the poles would go through the tent. We did his connected set first and I guided it through the right side of the tent, going towards the top and then coming down the other side before sticking it down into the earth. We did the same for the other side (that’s where the major work comes in cause you have to guide it over the previous pole set).

“You sure you weren’t lying when you’d say it’d be easy?” Jack said with a grunt as he tried to maneuver my pole set over his at the top each time I pulled the second pole down.

“This is always the tricky part no matter what. But trust me Jack, I’ve seen tents so complex to build up I’m surprised they’re not banned from camping gears. Don’t worry we got this, just a little more……” finally I managed to get the starting point out the end of the tent and stick it into the earth as well. “There we go. Now for the tacks to make sure they stay down.”

I jogged back over to where I had the bag and pulled out the tacks as well as the mini-mallet that came with it. After setting each tack down, I told Jack to get the rain roof to go on top of the tent just in case it rained (there was a chance in the next couple of days but it’s better to get it out now rather than later).

He went back to the tent back and pulled the tarp-like roof from the bag and together we worked to maneuver around the tent to place the rain-proof roof on top of the tent. Once it was one, we stepped back and we wrapped an arm around each other and I said.

“We did it babe. Our home for the next week.”

“I can’t wait to sleep in it. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like sleeping in a tent after you showed me that camping episode from your favorite childhood show.”

“Well let’s get the sleeping bags and all the other stuff inside and you can see for yourself.” We walked over and grabbed the sleeping bags, pillows, blankets, and our backpacks. I unzipped the circular door and once the flaps came down I bowed and said. “Right this way good sir.”

“Thank you.” He said with a bow of his head before getting in with me following suit.

Some would call it overboard since this tent is said to fit five people but I wanted Jack to have the full experience of being in a tent. And just seeing his face in full awe as he looked around.

“It’s almost like being in a cave. And not like those Wendigo ones either.” I nodded.

“It’s got where it counts. But if it’s too much I can send this back and just get a two person one.”

“No please don’t. I love it. Very spacious, plenty of space for all our stuff. But can also be intimate for snuggling together.” Jack said as he came up close to me, wrapping his arms around me. I smiled as he buried his face into my neck.

“Okay sweetie, let’s find a spot in this cave of ours to put our sleeping bags at.” We crawled through the tent and decided that our bags could be spread out in the middle of the tent. Our backpacks could go right up at the wall where our heads would be. We set the backpacks down before unrolling our sleeping bags and placing down our pillows and blankets.

“So what shall we do first?” Jack asked me with a smile as he padded his pillow.

“Well there’s a few things I’d like to get at the lodge like firewood and see if there’s any icebags they sell. I know our cooler is basically a thermos but you can’t be too careful especially with as long as we’re staying.”

“Okay so firewood and ice. Then what do you want to do?”

“This camping trip isn’t just about me sweetie. This is your first camping trip, what do you want to do?” I took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Can we go hiking?”

“Then hiking it is. Maybe we’ll even see some wild animals while we’re out and about.” He smiled and I could almost see my sweet baby boy bouncing on his knees. “Now let me see, the lodge from our campsite is about how far?” I said as I took out the map from my pocket. “Okay so we’re here,” I said pointing to our spot, “And the lodge is….” I trailed my finger upward until I saw the main lodge. “Oh sweet we don’t even have to walk very far. It’s just out of this reserved area and up a forest hill track and boom we’re there.”

“You seemed to have gotten us a lucky spot. You sure you didn’t check ahead of time?” Jack teased.

“Babe I swear, this was the only camping spot available at the time I was making the reservation.” Jack looked at me with a playful skeptical look but let it go. “Okay go ahead doubt me, but they don’t call me (Y/n) ‘Lucky-shot’ Winchester for nothing.”

“Who calls you that?”

“Me. I do. And Charlie, and Jody, and the rest of the girls of the Wayward sisters. Dean calls it dumb luck but I have saved his ass more times than I can count. Plus some of my luck must’ve bounced off of them, with as many times as my brothers get knocked out. I’m surprised they still remember their own names.”

“They do get knocked out quite a bit.” Jack agreed.

“Right!?”

Once we got our backpacks packed with just enough stuff for the hike, Jack had decided to come up with me to get the firewood as well as see if there was an ice-dispenser up at the lodge. After finding and purchasing a couple bags of firewood, we headed back to our campsite and Jack placed the two bags of firewood near the car while I opened up my bag and we began to place the wood into the firepit.

“When it gets dark, we can start the fire. They’ll be fine sitting in the firepit for a while. So shall we begin your first ever hike?”

“I hope I packed everything right. I triple-quadruple checked just like you told me.”

“Good boy. Oh before I forget, here.” I reached into my pack and pulled out a bag that contained some whistles and got two of them out. “Put this around your neck.” I handed him the yellow whistle while I took the blue one.

“What do we need whistles for?”

“Well we can’t risk you using your powers in front of other people and freaking them out. So in the event if one of us gets lost, stay where you are, hug a tree and blow your whistle.”

“Okay I understand.” I patted his shoulder as he hung his whistle around his neck. “Can we go now?” he said bouncing on his feet.

“Yes sweetie we can. Follow me first time camper.” I walked ahead with Jack walking close behind me and we proceeded towards the hiking trail.

Throughout our hike we would stop to take pictures of some beautiful landscapes, tightrope across logs, and even got to see a few animals. Like this one point in the hike we came across a cute rabbit. Normally when a rabbit sees you, it wants to run but this rabbit as soon as it saw Jack, it got curious.

It hopped over to him and allowed Jack to reach out with his hand and gave him a sniff. It even allowed Jack to stroke it’s back before taking off back into the woods. Of course using my phone with it on silence, I snapped some good pictures of the encounter and promised to have those developed when we got home.

We even met up with some other hikers and found a special lodge where we could observe the local bears from a safe distance using binoculars. And along the walls of the lodge were paintings as well as facts about bears that the kids could read. And bless his heart, he shared with me all the facts he never knew about bears (even though I knew about most of them but I didn’t have the heart to stop him. He’s like a puppy).

For the rest of the day we hiked, had lunch, took photos and even talked with some other hikers until it started to get dark so Jack and I decided to head back to our camp for some supper as well as introduce him to the King of all camp snacks, S’mores.

We got back to camp and I started the fire while Jack got out the hotdogs, ramen, and smores stuff. We ate our supper and just as it was starting to get darker, I thought it was now time for Jack to try his very first smore.

“Okay Jack, the perfect way to make a smore is this.” I said gathering the smore supplies. “First you take the graham, and then you break apart a piece of chocolate. Then you stick the chocolate on the graham.” I said demonstrating the process, “then you roast the ‘mallow.” I said sticking my poker with the marshmallow into the firepit until it was burnt to a crisp. “Once it’s nice and crispy, you stick the mallow onto of the chocolate, then you take the other graham and smoosh it together. And last and certainly my favorite part.” I took a big bite before telling him with my cheeks stuffed with melted marshmallow, chocolate and graham crackers, “You stuff yourself!”

“I’ve always wanted to ask, why are they called that? Smores?”

“Because you always want some more.” He laughed at the corny joke. “babe I swear, you’ll find out that it ain’t just a joke. Go on.” I handed him his poker as well as the marshmallow bag.

He did as I told him in the exact order it needed to be done but just before he took that first bite I told him to wait as I got my phone out and went to my camera and switched it to video.

“Trust me, I’m gonna wanna keep this. Okay take a bite now.” I said as I pressed the record button. He lifted the smore to his mouth and took that first bite. Already his marshmallow oozing down his fingers as he tried to take in as much as he could without over stuffing his mouth.

I watched as his eyes widened and he let out a loud moan as he threw his head back.

“Didn’t I tell you? Makes you want to stuff like 10 of them after you eat your first smore.”

“This is…..” he chewed it up more before finally swallowing it and he continued, “This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

“Even better than nougat?” I asked exasperatedly.

“You know nothing will ever take the place of nougat in my heart.”

“Damn and I thought I could convert you.” I said stopping the recording.

“Sorry sweetheart. I wonder what a smore would taste like with nougat.”

“You keep that blasphemous excuse of chocolate away from the sacred smores! They are made with Hershey’s milk chocolate bars and they shall stay that way!” I said defending my precious smores honor.

“I still don’t see why you hate nougat so much?”

“I told you it’s a disgusting, excuse of a chocolate bar! They make it look like a chocolate bar but they got in stuff that shouldn’t go together BLECH!!” Jack rolled his eyes.

“One day I’ll convert you to appreciate my lovely nougats.”

“The day that happens is the day that Rowena allows Hell for freeze over.” We continued to snack on the smores until we were stuffed and we decided that now would be a good time to shut ourselves in the tent for the night.

We safely disposed of the trash and put the food in the spare cooler and I locked it up tight so that no bears would come by. Jack doused the fire and I turned on the lantern as we entered inside the tent. I hung the lantern on the little hook just above our heads and we got our sleeping bags ready for the night.

“Hey (Y/n).”

“Yes Jack?” I asked as I was spreading out my two fleece blankets over my sleeping bag.

“Guess what this is.” I turned towards him and saw him making shadow puppets using the lantern above us. It was a long serpent like creature but it wasn’t a snake.

“A Chinese water dragon?”

“Right! Now you do one.”

“Okay but be warned I’m nowhere as good as you.” I clasped my hands together and raised up my right index and tall finger and bent them a bit for the antlers. With the rest of my fingers I molded the face and nose and asked him, “Any guesses?”

“Those things on top are they—horns?”

“Close.”

“Oh no wait they’re antlers. Is it a deer?”

“Sure is.”

“Okay, okay my turn again. Umm…..Oh I got it! You won’t be able to get this.” I saw the silhouette of what almost looked like a musk ox but I knew it wasn’t.

For one it was even bulkier than the ones I’ve seen online, and the horns on it were way too long and swirled inward too much. I knew there was no way this was a ram due to its large size. Until it finally hit me.

“Oh I know exactly what this is!”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. What you don’t think I know a Tusken raider’s mighty steed the Bantha?”

“You’re good.” I shrugged cockily.

“Gave you your Star Wars knowledge, remember you must my young padawan.” I said in my best worst Yoda impression. He laughed as he brought me in close to him, our hands intertwining with each other’s while his free arm stroked patterns on my lower back and my free hand rested on his knee.

We looked into each other’s eyes and I could feel my heart racing faster the longer I looked into his innocent yet striking blueish-green eyes. He raised our intertwined hands up and placed my palm against his cheek before covering it with his own.

“(Y/n) I—I love you.”

“I love you too Jack.”

“No I mean. I like, really, really love you. So much so that I think I…..” I noticed how his adam’s apple slightly bounced as he swallowed anxiously and his jaw went tense as he turned away from me. In fact I could just see the poor boy tensing up.

“Jack, Jack look at me.” He hesitated but he turned his head back to face me. I moved my hand to his jawline and stroked it gingerly. “You know you can tell me anything right?” he nodded.

“I just……don’t want to scare you away.”

“Why would I be scared? Jack remember what we promised each other when we first started dating?”

“No keeping secrets like my brothers.” Jack repeated.

“Exactly. So c’mon out with it babe. What’s on your mind?”

“I…..” he sighed deeply but took another deep breath before saying. “As I said before, I really, really love you. And I know we talked about how far we want this relationship to go and you told me how when the time is right, we could—take things to the next step and……I want to do that.”

Oh……wow that’s—that is definitely something that should not be kept inside. I mean we have been dating for the past 3 years now after 6 years of knowing each other. And yeah he’s not the only pure-white virgin of the team (I still got the dragon scar to prove that).

“Wow. Okay that—”

“I probably made things awkward now, didn’t I?” he groaned as he scooted away from me pacing around the tent. “I’m such an idiot! Why did I have to open my big mouth and say that?! I—” I stopped him by grabbing his biceps and interrupted his ranting.

“Hey! Hey Jack! Jack!” he stopped to look at me. “To say I’m surprised that that is what you had buzzing around your brain for is a lot to take in. But I’m glad you told me. And I think we should sit down and talk so you hear what I have to say now.” He nodded nervously as we came back to our sleeping bags, the two of us sitting across from one another.

I took his hands and gave them a soft squeeze before starting.

“Jack. These past several years of knowing you have been—the best in my life. I have never felt this type of love towards any other guy. Now you know that I’m a virgin too right?”

“Yes that was the first thing you told me because you were worried I’d break up with you because you didn’t have experience.” My face flushed as I cleared my throat.

“Yeah because most guys prefer experiences and one night stands rather than taking care of their girl afterwards. But anyways the point is, with you—I felt like I was getting the perfect guy. Cute, brave, loyal, kind, funny, protective but not possessive, well-mannered. Some days I couldn’t believe just shortly after we began dating that you were real.”

“I care about you (Y/n).”

“And I care about you Jack. Which is why I think—no I know that I’m ready too.” His eyes slowly went wide.

“You—you are?”

“Yeah. Going on this camping trip without my brothers constant helicoptering or even Cas suddenly popping up before us, the fun we both had together and showing you what it meant to go on a camping trip I—I feel like I’m ready to take the next step, so long as you were.”

“Because consent goes both ways.” Jack said.

“Exactly. But there is one thing I am concerned about.” He tilted his head like a puppy before asking me.

“What?”

“Well we’re in a public campground. And yes although we have our private section we’re not entirely alone. Plus the rangers do their nightly patrol to make sure no troublemakers are out and about. And from what I remembering hearing all those girls with Dean. Don’t ask! I uhh—”

“I can take care of that.” This time I tilted my head and looked at him questioningly. Of course I knew nephilims are powerful beings but what can we do that’ll not get us kicked out or worse scarring an innocent child?

His eyes glowed their sunshine gold for a few seconds before they phased back to his normal eye color.

“No one should bother us now. Whatever we do in this tent won’t be heard on the outside.”

“You made this tent sound-proof?”

“Yeah. Watch.” He then let out his angelic-like scream which sounded like a boat horn times 20. I covered my ears until he stopped and he gestured for me to look outside the tent. I went over to the door, unzipped it and peeked out and saw that no one had woken up, or started asking just what that unholy scream was. I zipped the door backup and said.

“Wow. You never cease to amaze me.” He cutely shrugged as I sat back down in front of him wrapping my arms around his neck. “So….shall we get busy?” I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I would—like that. What do we uhh do first?”

“Well typically it’s best to get warmed up first before we get to the final stretch.”

“Warmed up? What you mean like exercise?” I giggled as I shook my head.

“No babe. I mean like making out. Touching each other, that kinda stuff.”

“So like what we normally do when your brothers aren’t around?”

“Bingo.”

“I already know some of the things you like, will that help?”

“Yeah. So—you ready Jack?” he nodded as I slowly leaned in and captured his lips with mine.

I felt his hands come up to cup my jawline as our kissed slowly deepened. Our tongues coming together for a slow, passionate dance as I felt myself slowly being lowered down onto our sleeping bags and blankets. After the need for air became too much, we separated from each other but our noses softly grazed against the other’s as our breaths danced across the other’s face.

“Can I take your shirt off?” he asked me.

“So long as I get to take yours off.” He nodded and I was the first to remove his shirt before he lifted mine off. As soon as my bare upperbody (minus the bra I had on) was exposed to him, Jack almost seemed entranced. He stroked through all the scars I’ve gotten over the years from various cases and points in my life.

“Did they hurt?” he said stroking the dragon scar I got when I was 14 years old.

“That one did for a while, others it just depended on how deep or dangerous the creature was.”

“It’s like a painting. Like connect the dots but with scars.” He said as he slowly traced over each scar then began connecting them into various shapes and patterns. “Like the constellations in the night sky.” I felt tears in my eyes and even felt one slid down my face. Before I could catch it, Jack’s thumb gingerly wiped it away as he hovered over me.

He once again captured my lips as his hands slowly trailed down to my chest just short of my bra. I separated from his lips and whispered to him.

“Put your hands on me Jack.” He kissed my lips again as his hands were now on top of my boobs. Gently and affectionately groping them through the bra which sent shivers down my spine. I let out a soft moan as his lips moved from my mouth to the side of my neck.

I closed my eyes as I wrapped my arms around his frame and felt his lips kiss, nip and lick at my neck. I gasped as he got a favorite weak spot of mine. Arching my back I reached behind and unhooked my bra exposing my bare breasts to the cool air but they were soon encompassed by Jack’s hands.

“They’re soft.” I heard him whisper in my neck.

“Would you like to kiss them Jack?”

“Is that what you want?” I nodded. He kissed my shoulder before moving across my collar bone. Slowly with each kiss he went lower and lower until he came to my right breast and began kissing it.

My eyes rolled in the back of my head as I stretched my arms out and gripped my pillow so tightly I could feel my nails through the sheets. Jesus no wonder why those girls were always moaning in Dean’s room if this is what it feels like. His lips soon encompassed my right nipple and I felt him gently suck on it which caused me to wrap my hands over his head to keep him there. Stroking and even slightly pulling on his golden locks which caused him to moan.

And hearing him moan while he sucked on my nipple sent a pleasurable feeling down to my lower region. After a few seconds he released my nipple before looking back up at me. I adjusted our position so that I was now on top of him and began kissing his neck.

He let out a few choked gasps as I kissed lower down towards his chest before coming back up again. His arms wrapped around me tightly as I nipped at the junction on the left side of where his neck and shoulder met. After leaving a fairly nice little hickey I knew would form there, Jack and I stared at each other’s eyes once again panting softly.

“So we uhh—” he asked.

“If you wish to continue. Yeah we-we can.” I said clearing my throat as I was still slightly dizzy from the pleasure that had made me blind for a moment back there.

“Do I or do you remove our umm…..”

“It doesn’t matter, I guess I could do it if you’re comfortable with it.”

“Yeah. I trust you (Y/n).” I softly smiled and gently pecked his lips before I placed my hands at the rim of his sleep pants and looked at him one last time.

“You ready?” I asked him. He nodded giving me consent before I reached in to not only grab his sleep pants but also his boxers as I slowly scooted them off his surprisingly silky-smooth legs. Once they were off, I then reached for my own pants and underwear and slowly removed them until we were as naked as told in the tale of Adam and Eve.

“So I—guess I just….put it inside you?” he asked me. “How do I know if I—”

“I think we’ll cross that bridge once we get there. Just….be gentle, okay?” he stroked a strand of hair out of my face.

“Always.” He pecked my lips once more before having me return on the bottom while he resumed his position on top of me. Our foreheads pressed together as he leaned down and kissed me and I felt him enter inside me.

I let out a hiss of pain and let out a painful groan, he stopped and looked down at me concerned.

“Should we stop? I’m hurting you aren’t I? I swear I’m not trying to it’s just….”

“I know Jack. Just…..let me get adjusted. Keep still for a moment.” I eased his anxiety by cupping his face into my hands. He nodded and kept still as I told him while I got used to feeling him inside of me. I took a few deep breaths before telling him, “Okay I’m ready.”

“You sure?” I nodded. He slowly pushed further inside of me kissing my neck any time I groaned or hissed in pain. His hands gently massaged my back and hips as he applied the right pressure to get my muscles to relax with each push he did.

Once we got pass the painful stage of the first time, there suddenly came a wave of pleasure as Jack slowly began pumping himself in and out of me. My mouth opened in an O shape as I gasped and grunted and Jack did the same as he kept thrusting in and out.

“Oh Jesus! Oh Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Holy shit that fee-Ahh!”

“I know. It……it’s good for…..me too.” He said through his grunts. We wrapped our arms around the other as we feverishly and passionately kissed each other. Our tongues dancing a sloppy dance as Jack continued to hit all the right spots.

“I—I’m gonna…..please Jack. Let us cum together!”

“Is-is that what—what that feeling is? Cause I UGH! I want to cum too.”

“Let us go—toge—together.” He nodded as he picked up the pace and our grunts and howls mixed in together until finally we came together. Jack collapsed on top of me, his head resting on my shoulder while I kept my arms wrapped around him stroking through his hair.

He looked into my eyes as I felt him trembling under my fingers. The small bangs on his head clung onto his forehead as small beads of sweat sat upon his brow.

“You’re trembling.” I whispered.

“I’ll be fine. Are you okay?”

“That was…..the second best thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life.”

“What was the first?”

“Getting you into Star Wars.” We softly chuckled as I placed my hand on the back of his head, leaned it down so that I could kiss his forehead and he rested his head on my bare chest.

“Is this what it feels like afterwards? I think Dean called it afterglow.” Jack asked me.

“More or less. But it’s even better than I could imagine.” I felt Jack cuddle into my sternum and even giving my collarbone a soft kiss.

“You—don’t think your brothers are gonna find out about this, do you?”

“If they do, I’ll handle it. I’m not a little girl anymore so I can do whatever I want.” I kissed the crown of his head. “Hey get this,” he looked up at me, “Tomorrow at the lodge they’re having fantasy movie night and can you guess what they’re showing?”

“Star Wars?” I nodded. “Can we go see it? Can we, please? Please? Please? Please? Please?”

“Now how can I say no to this adorable face.” I said as I cupped his cheek. We got back on our clothes before cuddling into our sleeping bags and snuggled them close together. “G’night Jack.”

“Goodnight (Y/n). I—I love you.”

“I love you too baby.” I let out a deep sigh before succumbing to sleep.

588 notes · View notes

kaleldobrev · 9 months

Text

KalelDobrev's Masterlist

Hey gang! I decided to make a rebloggable version of my masterlist since my masterlist isn't able to be reblogged at the moment. I hope you enjoy! ♡

Desktop Version Masterlist (Main)

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Jack Kline Masterlist

Castiel Masterlist

Misc. Characters + Pairings

Misc. Supernatural Characters

Robin Buckley (Stranger Things)

Harley Quinn (DC)

Soldier Boy/Ben (The Boys)

Beau Arlen (Big Sky)

Felix Catton (Saltburn)

343 notes · View notes

inthemytdl · 8 months

Text

Somewhere Only We Know

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

The whirl of wind trumped the gentle voice of the boy beside you. He wore a letterman jacket. A yellow hue reflected off its stripes from the street light next to the bus stop.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry.” He raised a jazz hand. “I’m Jack. I’ve noticed people here like to claim benches. Is it okay if we share?”

You shrugged then scooched over. Your phone lit up with the time as you moved. The bus would arrive soon. After that was one long trip to nowhere. You’d figure it out on the way there. That was part of the adventure.

“Where are you going?” Jack’s cheerful voice startled you.

You rubbed cold arms. “Nowhere.”

“Right. You don’t know me.” He faced you, lowered his head. “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

“Didn’t think so.” You studied him for a lingering moment. He looked too young to be some psycho killer but was lanky enough you could beat him in a fight if he was. “Where are you going?”

“I don't know.” He tilted his head toward the sky. “Wherever the bus takes me?”

“Nebraska.”

“There. I’m going there.” Jack smiled, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him Nebraska was just… Nebraska. “Are you cold? Here. Have my jacket.”

“What? No.” You swatted his hand away.

“It’s fine,” Jack said. “I don’t get cold.” He placed his jacket on your shoulders then returned to his dreamy state, practically drooling.

You were staring at him now, but he didn’t seem to mind. The gap between his teeth broke through his smile; his bright eyes lit up in the street light, the yellow hue reflecting off his irises now. He had this innocent look, like all the pain and despair of the world couldn’t hurt him. Not now, at least. Right now, all that mattered was Nebraska.

“I’m running away,” you blurted. “Sort’ve.”

Jack’s smile broke. “Why would you do that?”

“Well, it’s not running, really. I’m old enough to take care of myself. I’m just going on an… adventure.”

“I like adventures.” His smile was back. That gap in between his teeth.

The bus parked in front of you. It was empty, aside from a few scattered passengers. The doors opened. The driver made eye contact.

“Do you want to go on an adventure with me, Jack?” you asked.

He pressed a thumb on the dip of his chin. His hair blew into his face. “I’m not sure,” he said.

A pin dropped in your stomach. You spent five minutes talking and jumped straight to fifth base: asking him to travel with you. You didn’t even know him, really. He could’ve been a serial killer, a really nice one. And if he wasn’t, he must’ve thought you were weird now.

Jack inhaled a swift breath and released it with a sigh. “Are you a serial killer?” he asked.

“What?” you laughed. “No, of course not. I’m Y/n.”

“Then yes. I would like to go on an adventure with you, Y/n.” He pushed up from the bench and that lulling smile on his face met yours.

A warm heat encompassed you as you stepped onto the bus. Jack took the cushioned seat next to the window and looked out at the night sky. You took the aisle seat.

The bus shook as the engine rumbled to life. You were going to Nebraska. The land of farms, corn, prairies, and the occasional city. You could picture it now—the petrichor smell of wet grain, the bright lights illuminating cities—and while you weren’t sure if you’d stay, you were ready for your next adventure. And happy it wouldn’t be alone.

Jack traced a smiley onto the condensated window glass before relaxing into his seat. "I've never been on a bus before," he said.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

Trees flew by as the bus began to move and you became more comfortable with Jack. You had only just met him but traveling together felt right. And you weren’t sure what he was leaving behind, but were glad to have him by your side.

You took Jack’s hand in yours, startling him a bit, and said, “Next stop, Nebraska.”

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zepskies · 5 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 14

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

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

AN: Welcome back! Get ready for some more detective work, a pinch of Jo drama, another fire, and the reader finally meets John Winchester...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, fire hazards, threats, and hurt/comfort.

Part 14: “Message in a Bottle”

A week before Christmas, John Winchester left his house for work before the sun had even risen in the sky. It was still dim when he stepped out onto his porch, which is why he didn’t see it at first.

He heard the clink when his boot kicked at something metallic.

He glanced down and found a small badge lying on the ground. He bent to pick it up, and on further inspection, it was a fire department’s badge. A replica, probably, because it had Dean’s number on it: 20579.

The badge was also splattered with blood.

Later at his office, John handed it over to his partner for his inspection.

“It’s actually paint,” John said. “Forensics looked it over. No prints, of course.”

“That’s a shame,” Cas said. His tone was mild, but his face was as grave as John’s as he considered the crimson-stained badge. They stood together in the bullpen of the 84th Precinct.

“And I got this little present a few days ago,” John admitted quietly. He grabbed a folder off his desk and showed Cas its contents: a picture of Sam leaving the courthouse while talking on his cell, climbing into his car. Someone was watching his sons.

“I already have a police detail on him,” John said, heaving a sigh. “I requested approval for Dean’s this morning.”

Cas’s frown was deepening, along with his furrowed brows. “We may need to ask for backup on this.”

John shook his head. “Rufus won’t give it to us.”

Their esteemed Lieutenant thought John was on a vendetta with a ghost, stirring up a conflict of his own making. He only approved a temporary police detail for Sam, with the condition that John stopped what he was doing, let the Fire Department handle the serial arsonist, and let this blow over.

But Rufus should’ve known better than that by now. This was personal, and John wouldn’t tolerate these yellow-bellied threats to his family.

“Azazel’s applying pressure, hitting your weak spots,” Cas said, perhaps pointing out the obvious.

“So let’s hit him back, goddamn it,” John growled. He threw down the folder back onto his desk.

“How?” Cas asked. “We still don’t know who Azazel is.”

The other man thought hard, rubbing a hand over his mouth, and feeling the overgrown stubble. He didn’t remember the last time he’d shaved.

“How’s your progress on questioning Savage & Co.?” he asked.

“Stalled. Nick Savage has lawyered up,” said Cas.

His face slackened from frustration to realization. He didn’t seem happy about his next idea, but it looked like he had one.

“Though now that I think of it, we may be able to apply some pressure of our own,” he said.

John raised a brow and crossed his arms. “How’s that?”

“Dean’s girlfriend works there, if you remember,” Cas said. “Something happened this past weekend at her company Christmas party.”

John nodded, despite his frown. He was set to meet you in a week, but it looked like they might need to question you before then. What a pleasant first meeting that was going to be.

But if you had anything on Savage, on the company, or even better, if you were willing to wear a wire, that could be the break they needed to get some headway on this case. They could squeeze Savage for any information he might have on Azazel—like his real identity.

“Tell me,” John said.

You returned to work on Monday with steel in your veins (and a taser in your purse).

You had about an hour of peace in your office, catching up on your emails and calls. Then there was a knock on your door before it pushed open without your consent.

Damn it, should’ve locked it. Your lips pursed when Nick Savage came in.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you said firmly. Already you were opening a drawer in your desk, reaching into your purse.

“It’s my goddamn office,” Nick replied lazily. But he crossed his arms and stopped just behind the spare chair that sat in front of your desk. It gave you a good few feet of distance.

You stared back at the man with hidden satisfaction through your disdain. It seemed Dean’s threats got to him.

“Just thought I’d let you know that Josh’s been promoted to Senior Sales Manager,” Nick said. He checked his watch absently.

Your teeth clicked in irritation, but you let it pass. He was just trying to get a rise out of you, and you no longer gave a fuck about this company anyway. What you told Dean before was the truth: you were now here just to collect a paycheck, until you could find a new job.

“Good. He’s been working hard, kissing your ass,” you said with a fake smile. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to do.”

Nick made the mistake of taking a half-step forward. Your hand subtly clenched on the weapon in your purse, but you tried your best to seem relaxed. In control of yourself. This was your office that you’d occupied for three years.

This was your space, and this man didn’t control you.

“Take one step forward, and I will quit today,” you threatened. And then you bluffed.

“I’ll call Mr. Greenway,” you said. “In fact, he offered me a job last month. Then I’ll make a few more calls, and I’ll take all of my accounts with me. I’ll kill your fucking sales team and leave Josh to continue sucking your lackluster tequila dick.”

Nick stared back at you with thinly veiled shock. You’d always been “no nonsense,” but you’d never spoken to him like that before. He smirked.

This was why he liked you. And hated you.

“All right,” Nick said. He didn’t come any closer, but he did rest his hands on the back of the chair. “How about I buy out your friend Greenway. His whole damn company. And then I’ll blacklist you with every other company that calls for a reference. Even the ones that don’t call.”

Your eyes widened incredulously. He had the gall to wink at you, boiling your blood.

“I’ll fucking sue you,” you said, hating the slight tremor in your voice.

Nick rolled his eyes. “This again? Please.”

You couldn’t help it. Your temper snapped, and you pushed away from your desk to stand up. You gripped the edge of it to steady yourself. You quirked a humorless smile.

“As it happens, I know a damn good lawyer,” you countered. “He puts murderers in jail every day. I doubt he’d struggle too much with a corporate asshole. And I’ll remind you, Dean’s father is a police officer. I’m sure he’d like nothing better than to lock you up after I report you for what you did. And I will.”

Nick scoffed at that, his eyes narrowing.

“If you take it there, I’ll have every resource at my disposal to make your life a living hell. I’ll drag this out for years. Until you’ve got nothing but your boyfriend’s charity to keep you from living in a fucking box.”

You were seething, trying to stay in control. He knew it too, and he smirked at you. He pushed away from the chair and started to leave.

But then, he tossed you a smug look over his shoulder.

“Just remember,” he said. “You could’ve just spread those legs for me.”

It took everything you had within you not to hurl a stainless steel stapler at the back of his retreating head.

“A double please, Ellen. Dry, lots of olives,” you requested.

After a ridiculously long day at work, you were now trying to let go of your frustrations at the Roadhouse, while you still had the money to drink. You rubbed through the ache in your temples.

“Long day, hun?” Ellen asked you. Her eyes were sympathetic as she made you the martini you ordered. You gave her an attempt at a smile.

“Long life,” you muttered.

“Hmm. Asshole boss?” she surmised.

You met her gaze with a note of suspicion. “Did Dean tell you…”

You knew he’d told his brother about what happened at the Christmas party. And you had a feeling he’d told Cas as well, to try and see what you could do from a law enforcement standpoint. The first step was filing a report. Now you knew, however, that you couldn’t. Not if you wanted your life to remain in one piece.

“Nothing, hun,” Ellen shook her head. “You’ve just got that look. I reckon every woman in the world has worn that face. Usually because of a man.”

You sighed and chuckled at the same time. It loosened some of the tightness in your shoulders.

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

You were soon distracted though, giving your boyfriend a smile to try and cover up how exhausted you were, in every sense of the word. He greeted you with a warm hand along your lower back. He dropped a kiss to your forehead.

“Waiting long?” he asked.

“No, just a few minutes,” you shook your head. You laid a hand on his thigh when he took a seat next to you at the bar. “How was your shift?”

This week he was on three 12-hour shifts instead of his usual 24-hour shifts, which meant you got more of him in the evening.

“Fine. Just a couple of accidents to clear off the road, nothing major,” he replied. He ordered a beer from Ellen and gave Jo a smile. He was surprised to see mother and daughter working civilly together under one roof, after the scene he saw last week.

“How’s the studying going?” he asked Jo, once Ellen was out of earshot to serve further down the line. He turned to you and filled you in. “Jo’s gearin’ up to hit the Police Academy.”

“Oh wow, that’s great!” you remarked.

Jo glanced over at her mom, but then she smiled, looking back at you and Dean. She focused on him.

“The test is in a few weeks,” she said. “I think I’m ready, but I don’t know…”

“You’ll be fine,” Dean said, with easy conviction. “You’re stubborn enough to know it’s what you want. So I got no doubts about you.”

Jo’s smile was warm, with a hint of shy and gratefulness. You smiled at Jo encouragingly, but inside, you had a familiar unease churning inside your gut.

Dean then turned to you with expectant brows. His fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek, curling it behind your ear.

“And how was your day?” he asked. His tone was quieter, laced with double meaning.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jo moving on to another waiting customer with a small sigh.

You met Dean’s gaze and you nodded. “It was fine.”

His brows rose a touch higher. “Very convincing. You took the taser with you, right?”

You sighed and had to smile a little. His concern warmed you, made you feel protected, even though you’d had to do that part yourself today. You soothed a hand over his chest, between the open panels of his plaid shirt.

“Yes, I did. I’m okay, baby. We’re at a standstill,” you said. And you reminded him, “I can handle myself, you know.”

Dean nodded, sighing through his nose. His hand rubbed up and down your back, whether to comfort you or himself, you didn’t know. Your fingers curled into his shirt, and you smiled up at him, just before you tugged him down for a kiss.

It was slow and sweet, until you became a bit more than sweet, grazing his bottom lip with your teeth. His hand came up to cup the back of your head as he accepted the warmth of your kiss.

You knew that you couldn’t tell Dean what happened this morning in your office. He’d likely go for the Halligan in his trunk and beat Nick Savage within an inch of his life.

While the idea appealed to you for several reasons, you didn’t want to be the reason Dean lost his badge, or ended up in jail.

So over a couple of drinks, you distracted him by having a healthy debate over what you two were going to have for dinner later: sushi or pizza.

You ultimately won with sushi. (Or maybe he let you win. Either way, you were getting salmon rolls tonight.)

Still, you had that uneasy feeling when you and Dean left the bar. You wondered how the hell it had taken you this long to notice the starry look of longing in Jo’s eyes.

You fell into step with Dean as you two headed for the sushi restaurant down the street. It was already dark out, but even on a Tuesday night, the streets and sidewalks of downtown were busy.

“Can I ask you something…potentially uncomfy?” you said.

Dean’s head turned to you, with a raised brow.

“Uncomfy?”

You let out a breath, and you could see it on the December chill in the air. Your hands were tucked into your pockets, and so were Dean’s in his.

“Did you and Jo ever have a thing?” you asked.

Dean blinked, but then his lips pressed together. “What makes you say that?”

You sent him a suspicious look. You’ve known him long enough to know when he’s hedging.

“Just please, answer the question,” you said.

He blew out a breath. After a moment, he nodded.

“Yeah, for a few weeks,” he admitted.

You sighed. That sure explained a hell of a lot. And really, with his track record, you couldn’t be surprised.

“You dated her, or you hooked up with her?” you clarified. Dean shot you a look.

“Dated,” he said, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

Your brows furrowed. “When?”

He’d told you that he’d been in one relationship before, briefly…

“About a few months before I met you,” he said at last. But he saw the incredulous, almost upset look on your face. “Obviously it didn’t work out.”

“You couldn’t have told me that earlier?” you asked. Your hands slipped out of your pockets to gesture at him. “How did it end?”

The man sighed, looking up at the sky.

“Come on, Dean,” you prodded.

“All right,” he placated with a hand. “It didn’t end great, put it that way.”

You couldn’t help a frustrated huff. You crossed your arms and kept walking beside him down the street, albeit in silence.

Dean glanced at you in slight exasperation. He was with you now. Why did it matter to you so much?

“She still has feelings for you,” you said, though you still weren’t looking at him.

“How do you figure?” he asked. But if he was honest, even he knew the truth.

“Because I could see her eyeing you like a honey glazed ham,” you snipped. At that, he let out an incredulous chuckle.

“Are you jealous?” he teased.

You stopped walking and looked up at him, frowning. “Do you want me to be?”

Dean stopped as well. He sobered, realizing you weren’t in the mood for jokes. You’d been through a lot recently, and he knew then that you didn’t need this kind of stress on top of everything else. He drew closer and gently grasped your arms.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. Though he thought to himself, I’ll talk to Jo if I have to.

You sighed in frustration, but he soothed his hands up and down your arms. His touch plied you, along with his smile.

“Hey,” Dean said, dipping his chin so he could catch your eyes. “You should know how I feel about you by now.”

You sighed and nodded in agreement. He wasn’t satisfied.

“Okay,” he said, squeezing your arms and earning your eyes on him. It took him a moment, letting out a breath, but he was honest.

“I love you," he reminded. "And if that damn elevator hadn’t broke down on you, I’d still be missing something.”

…Damn it, you thought, even as a blushing smile grew across your face. Dean Winchester was too smooth for his own good.

But you also saw the sincerity in his eyes. You couldn’t help but be warmed by his words, down to your toes.

“There she is. All right,” he said with a grin. He nodded in satisfaction and gathered you into his arms. “My soft girl again.”

Your smile deepened, but you still pinched his side, making him flinch and laugh. You held him back and looked up at his handsome face. He still looked amused and his eyes were warm. You leaned up on your toes for a kiss that lingered on wind-chilled lips.

“I love you,” you whispered back, against his lips.

His smile against yours was your answer.

Two hours and two salmon rolls later, Dean drove you home. You had taken an Uber to the Roadhouse, which reminded him that he needed to make another trip to Singer Salvage.

He’d been scoping out potential cars to fix up for you. He’d even recruited Bobby’s help to find something good, something with strong bones. Dean could do the rest.

Even after he watched you get inside your house safely, he let out a subtle breath before he peeled away. He wished you were coming home with him tonight. More often, he was feeling your absence when you weren’t in his bed. But it also reassured him, that he knew you were safe with him and Sam at their apartment.

He later found his brother eating leftover chicken parmesan at the kitchen counter.

“Why’re you eating standing up?” Dean asked, tossing his keys onto the counter. He reached into the fridge for a beer. “You look like Big Bird if he wore a suit.”

Sam sent him a dry look. “I don’t know. Force of habit.”

He barely had time in his day for an uninterrupted coffee, let alone a meal. When Dean wasn’t here, Sam fell back onto his work habits. He took his plate and actually went to the table.

“You eat already?” he asked. Dean nodded and said he’d eaten with you.

“Oh yeah? How’s she doing?” Sam asked.

Dean sighed and sank down heavily onto the chair opposite his brother. He rubbed at his forehead.

“She’s okay, considering,” he replied. But he knew you hadn’t told him the whole story about how your day went at work. Whether you were trying to spare him, or protect him, or yourself, it still drove him up the wall. Knowing Nick Savage was still your boss, and he was there, an ever-present threat just a few floors above you in that building…

It made Dean’s skin crawl. It had his teeth grinding and coiled his spine tight with repressed rage. And worry.

He met his brother’s eyes. Sam had been watching him, hiding his wariness.

“What can we do about him?” Dean asked. He knew he didn’t have to explain who he was talking about.

Sam started to shake his head, but Dean wouldn’t have it.

“I mean it, Sam. Because I almost…” His hand and forearm clenched and unclenched on the table. He could almost feel the way his arm had pressed into Nick’s throat, slowly but surely crushing his trachea. Just a couple of minutes more, and Dean could’ve done it. In that moment, he saw it so clearly.

It was the first time he’d ever wanted to take a man’s life.

“I know,” Sam said. His brows furrowed in sympathy. “But you did the right thing.”

Dean’s lips pursed as his hand once again fisted on the table.

“If I hadn’t been there,” he said. “If I had been just a few minutes off…”

These were the what ifs that kept plaguing his mind, ever since the party. Sometimes, it added to the catalogue of waking nightmares that wouldn’t let him sleep.

“And now she’s gotta go back there, every day, where that animal is just waiting for an opportunity,” Dean gritted out. Then his fist dropped more heavily onto the table, rattling Sam’s silverware.

Sam held the table steady and looked at his brother, calm but firm.

“You can’t touch Savage,” he said. “Don’t even go near him. Whatever you do, he’ll use it against you, and potentially against her. Unfortunately, she’s got the best plan right now.”

Dean looked up at him with angry eyes.

“Wait him out,” Sam said, “until he makes a mistake he can’t easily cover up. In the meantime, she’ll find a new job and get the hell out of there.”

Dean forced a sharp breath through his nose. He leaned back in his chair and tapped his fist more calmly on the table.

“I don’t have to like it,” he said.

Sam nodded in agreement. “No, you don’t.”

The fire was wild. It was eating up the four-story apartment building in a full blaze. The Truck 79 team was geared up outside of it, with Chief Singer already calling out instructions along with Dean.

Benny and the Rescue Squad were already on the roof, rappelling down to get the ones trapped on the top floors out through the windows. Dean was on the ground. He had Gordon, Jack, and a few others behind him. Meg and Chuck were on standby, waiting for the firefighters to pull out any residents still trapped inside.

Dean had to wonder if he was walking into another arson, like the Richardson fire. Against his will, he thought of that day. He thought about everything his father had told him about that arson, about Azazel and his mom’s death. He thought about you, working for a man who was potentially tied to Azazel.

“Winchester,” Gordon tapped him on the arm. “You good?”

Dean glanced over at him, then nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s rock and roll.”

When Dean was at work, he couldn’t let the outside world into his mind. All he could let himself focus on was the scene ahead after he put his mask on.

Inside the first floor of the building was like entering a living furnace. It was hot as shit, and layers of smoke choked the room. The mask was the only reason Dean could see, let alone breathe.

He turned to Jack. “All right, take it room by room. Stay close. We don’t got a lot of time.”

Jack nodded his agreement, and Dean split his team. A few of the others took the first floor on his orders. Dean, Gordon, and Jack would take the old stairs to clear the second floor.

Fuck. This whole place is just wood and plaster, Dean thought, shaking his head. These old buildings were all the same. Easy to build, easy to knock down. And usually they weren’t up to code, often thanks to cheap property owners.

He got apartment 201 open with his Halligan. The shoebox studio was smokey as all hell, but it was clear of any tenants. Gordon moved on ahead quickly, but Dean’s brows furrowed as he listened to the unsteady creaking of the floorboards. He moved more carefully forward.

Until he felt the warmth under his boots, saw the orange glow underneath a thin patch of flooring.

“Walker, wait!” Dean called, at the same time he held Jack back.

He reached out, just as the wood floor splintered and broke underneath Gordon. His eyes flashed wide just before he fell.

Dean dove for him. His Halligan clattered away, but he managed to grab onto the man’s sleeve before he disappeared. Gordon grabbed onto Dean’s arm and nearly pulled him down too. Luckily, he managed to grab onto the splintered edge with his other glove-covered hand. He gritted his teeth at the strain of the other man hanging off his shoulder, but he didn’t dare let go.

Jack grabbed Dean’s belt to keep him from sliding further down. It let him grab onto Gordon with both hands. The men panted for breath; Dean had a better vantage point to see that the middle of the ground floor below was engulfed in flames. The glow of it flared in the corner of Gordon’s eyes. He could feel the heat making both of them sweat.

The wood flooring under Dean creaked ominously, but before anyone could move, it broke further. He almost lost his grip on Gordon as his torso hung over the edge. He managed to get a new stronghold under the other man’s arm, and Jack did his best to keep Dean from falling by pinning his legs down. Jack was strong, but he was still a smaller man than Dean.

“Jack, call for backup!” Dean gritted out. Jack nodded behind him and radioed in for help.

Gordon stared up at Dean with wide, but resigned eyes. “The floor’s gonna cave before you can pull me up.”

Dean stared down at him, even as lines of sweat poured down his forehead from within his mask. They both knew that if that happened, Dean would be pulled along for the ride down, maybe even Jack too. Dean gave a sharp shake of his head.

“Just hold on. Backup’s comin’,” he said. All his strength was going into keeping a firm grip on the man’s arm and jacket. He called to Jack over his shoulder. “Can you get next to me and grab him?”

To his credit, Jack tried. But the jagged edges of the floor around Dean were unsteady, creaking and groaning under Jack’s added weight, a bit too much.

“Stop, stop!” Dean shouted, halting Jack’s movements.

Gordon licked his dry lips and blinked sweat out of his eyes. “This might be the part where you let go, Winchester.”

Dean took exactly a beat to process his shock. Then he glared down at the man.

“Shut the hell up, Walker. You don’t let go, you hear me?” he barked. “Jack, grab the back of my jacket and my belt.”

Jack followed the order, and a combination of him pulling Dean up and Dean straining every muscle he had to heft up Gordon slowly, painfully, brought them back up and over the ledge.

Jack had an easier time then of helping Dean pull Gordon the rest of the way out of the hole.

And the rest of their Truck crew came to help them onto their feet, before the fire consumed the rest of the second floor.

Once Dean was out of the building, he took off his mask and breathed in cooler air on his face. He made a beeline for the fire truck. In the back was a cooler, and grabbed a bottle of water to dump over his overheated head and face while he caught his breath. Gordon and Jack were following suit, and the men stared and one another. All of their faces said the same thing.

We made it. We’re alive. That was almost fucked.

Gordon’s gaze met Dean’s, sobering further. For a moment, he looked like he was searching for words.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked eventually.

Dean nodded, rotating his right arm. He was going to feel that bitch tomorrow.

“Fine,” he said. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Gordon nodded. Another hesitation, followed by an honest gaze. “Thanks, Lieutenant.”

Dean’s face broke into a smile, wry but also genuine. “Yeah, thank me by layin’ off the burgers.”

He swatted the other man’s stomach and went for three more waters. He handed two of them to Jack and Gordon. One was smiling, while the other just smirked and shook his head.

“You callin’ me hefty?” Gordon remarked. “I’m averaging 6% body fat, man.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, right. What’re you, the Rock? That’s why you almost sunk.”

He dropped his fist into the air and made an exploding sound. Jack was wide-eyed, but Gordon just chuckled. They started making their way to the front of the truck to start packing up their gear. The Truck and Rescue teams had done what they could, and all the residents that made it out of the building were being seen to by the paramedics.

“I’d rather be weighed down by muscle than all them Little Debbie’s you’ve been putting away at the station,” Gordon shot back. “Cheap cake is not your friend.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “All right, that’s just uncalled for.”

“Dean,” Chief Singer called, beckoning him over with a hand. His free hand wore a glove as he held something steaming.

Dean nodded at his men and joined Bobby outside his department-issued SUV. Dean’s gaze focused on the bottle-shaped object in Bobby’s hand. There was a small digital box attached to the front, with wires wrapped around. The entire device was now blackened, but the smell of chemicals was unmistakable.

“Molotov cocktail?” Dean quipped, but his face was as grave as Bobby’s. The Chief nodded.

“Lafitte pulled this out of the fourth floor,” he said. “Looks like the same kind of incendiary device Arson found at the Richardson fire.”

That night, you made dinner for Dean at your house. He was forced to explain what happened at the apartment building, and why he had his arm pinned to his side like a chicken wing. You made him sit down and relax, all while you tried to hide your worry and relief that he was mostly all right.

Later in the living room, you sat on your knees beside him on the couch and lifted the bag of ice from his shoulder. You peered at it in concern, gently rubbing your hand over the joint and surrounding muscle. Dean sighed through his nose as your gentle touch was both soothing and painful.

“Are you sure you should do another shift tomorrow?” you asked, replacing the ice. He shot you a glance.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Right,” you said dryly. “That’s why you can barely move this arm.”

Dean rolled his eyes and made his point by raising his right arm, slowly, but easily back down.

“I’ll be up and running by tomorrow. Just need a good night’s sleep.”

“Dean, are you sure? You seem to be in a lot of pain,” you asked.

He tried to hold in his annoyance. “I think I’d know if I’m fine.”

“You forget, I know all too well what downplaying looks like,” you countered, giving him a chiding look. Dean didn’t appreciate it. He didn’t need you to mother him.

“This is my job, all right,” he said.

You gave him a steady look. Your hand moved up his shoulder to rest along the back of his neck. Your fingers slipped into his hair.

“I know that. But I’m allowed to worry,” you said. Your brows furrowed. “Please don’t get upset at me for that.”

Dean let out a breath. He relaxed against the couch and met your gaze. He knew he had no right to ask you not to worry about him.

“Yeah, okay,” he said.

To you, he still seemed a bit annoyed. You nodded and continued to gently sift your fingers through his hair. You had to wonder if his resentment was coming from a different place.

“Are you still mad at me for going back to work?” you tested.

Dean breathed out deeper this time, but he didn’t answer.

Bingo, you thought with a frown.

“Dean—”

“All I want is for you to be safe,” he said. His voice was harder as his face tightened up. His hand gestured in frustration. “This whole thing…that fucking douchebag…it’s killing me. Fucking killing me. And you know that.”

Your eyes softened, and you unconsciously bit your lip.

“Ditto,” you tried to joke. It landed flat, because your boyfriend was deadly serious.

He looked away from you with pursed lips and a frustrated shake of his head. You sidled closer to him and tried to soothe, with a hand on his chest.

“Look, I’m trying to find a new job, but it takes time,” you said.

“You could quit. You could quit right now,” Dean replied hotly.

You sighed; you couldn’t believe you had to remind him about this. “I can’t, Dean. I have bills to pay, just like you do. You think I like this situation any more than you? I’m the one who’s had to deal with this for months!”

“I know that!” Dean snapped back. “Or should I say, now I do.”

He pulled away from your touch and pushed off the couch, onto his feet. You looked up with your mouth agape as he left the room. You got up and followed after him.

“You’re leaving?” you asked in shock. You watched him grab his keys and his wallet from the kitchen counter.

“I’ve got a long shift tomorrow and I gotta sleep,” Dean said, rather gruffly.

You followed him all the way to the door, where you grabbed onto his wrist. He stopped in the doorway, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

“Dean, please,” you implored. “Don’t go like this.”

After a beat, he seemed to soften. Just enough to lean over and press a brief kiss to the side of your head.

“I gotta go.”

He left you in the doorway with tears swimming in your eyes, and he pretended not to notice them.

When Dean woke up the next morning, his shoulder still ached, and he still felt guilty. He rubbed the offending join and tried to slowly roll the stiffness out of his arm. Fuck.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes next. They blearily took in the digital numbers on his alarm clock: 5:00 a.m.

He slid out of bed and got ready for work. He definitely wanted to check in with Arson about the device that likely started that fire, and he knew his dad would need to be brought in on it. It would give Dean a reason to press John for an update on his investigation.

By 6:00, he was finishing his coffee, about ready to head over to the station. He could hear the pipes running, meaning Sam was in the shower.

Dean was startled only slightly by his phone vibrating in his pocket. His brows furrowed, but he fished it out and found your name crossing the screen, along with a smiling picture of you. He sighed.

Part of him hesitated. If you were calling just to try and convince him to call out of work, he was going to get worked up again. And he’d rather not have anything disturb his first cup of coffee of the day.

Still, he answered. “Hey.”

“Dean, did you come into the house last night?” you asked.

He didn’t like the wary, almost scared tone of your voice.

“No.” His brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Look at the text I just sent you.”

He put you on speaker so he could check his messages. Sure enough, he found a picture from you. It was of a glass bottle-shaped object on your nightstand. There was a black box attached, but its digital screen was blank. Dean’s breath caught in his lungs as his eyes widened. His heart dropped into his stomach.

“Dean, what is this thing?” you asked. Your voice was shakier, more worried. “It looks like a bomb. And it smells awful, like chemicals.”

“Don’t touch it,” he said quickly. “Get out of the house…better yet, wait for me at your neighbor’s place. I’m coming over right now.”

And I’m calling Dad.

Dean tried his best to calm you while the police and the Arson Department swept your entire house for devices, fingerprints, and any other evidence on who broke in.

You had a hand over your mouth by the front door as you watched them turn over cushions, move tables and shelves, ruck through cabinets. Your entire life turned inside out.

Dean’s hand rubbed up and down your back. You eventually had to look away and sigh. You pressed closer to his side, and he wrapped his good arm around your shoulders.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said quietly, and kissed the top of your head. Inside, he was furious. Mostly at himself.

If anything had happened to you last night, after he left…he would’ve never forgiven himself.

So it was a welcome distraction when John and Cas’s police car finally pulled into the driveway. Dean led you outside, away from the chaos happening in your house.

“Hey, Dad,” he said, with a nod at Cas. Both men nodded back.

“Son,” John greeted, His brown eyes turned to you next. He offered you a hand. “Good to finally meet you, despite the circumstances.”

You blinked up at him and curled a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a bit nervously.

“Oh, it’s…it’s great to meet you, Mr. Winchester,” you said, sticking out your hand and shaking his.

A smile flickered across Dean’s lips. He realized then that this was the first time you were meeting his father. You were adorably nervous.

A reserved smile tugged at his father’s lips as well.

“John’s just fine.”

You smiled back, with a bit of a blush tinging your cheeks.

“Now, can you tell me what happened here?” John asked you, not unkindly.

Dean’s good humor faded away as he explained about the device left on your nightstand. He filled them in about the fire he’d responded to yesterday as well.

“What the hell is happening, Dad?” he demanded to know.

John let out a breath and nodded, swiping a hand through his dark hair.

“It’s another one of Azazel’s signatures,” he said, lowering his voice so only the four of them could hear. “It’s a message.”

“To who?” Dean asked.

“To me,” John said. “Warning me to back off the case…there’ve been other threats. I’ve finally got a police detail on Sam, and I just got approval for you. I’ll add her to the list.”

John glanced at you. Your eyes widened in confusion as you tried to hold in your fear.

“Who the hell is Azazel?” You turned to Dean. “Is this…does this have something to do with your mom’s killer?”

John’s brows shot up at his son. “You told her?”

“You’re over here talking about him too,” Dean retorted. He gathered you closer and met his father with steely eyes, to mask how his gut was churning with worry.

“You need to get this guy,” Dean said, almost through gritted teeth. “Get him now.”

John agreed with a nod.

Once again, you covered a trembling hand over your mouth. Dean squeezed your side a bit to earn your attention.

“I want you to come stay with me,” he said. His tone was boding no argument, not that you would. You nodded and fairly melted against him. Your head rested against his chest.

“Dean, this is insane,” you whispered.

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know. I’m sorry…I’m so fucking sorry about this.”

You looked up at him, your brows furrowing. “It’s not your fault.”

Dean met your gaze, but he couldn’t quite believe you. He was the one who kept pushing his dad for answers, to let him in on this. This was his family’s bullshit, not yours. You didn’t deserve to get dragged into it too.

The spell between you two was broken by Cas, awkwardly clearing his throat.

“We do need to ask you some questions,” he said. “About Nick Savage.”

You frowned. You peeled yourself away from Dean enough to face the detectives.

“What does he have to do with this?” you asked.

“His company is linked to a money laundering scheme, which ultimately leads back to Azazel,” Cas explained. “But we’re having trouble getting through his wall of lawyers.”

You scoffed. “Not surprising.”

However, it did worry you that Nick was possibly doing business with a criminal. Not that that should surprise you either.

“What do you want to know?” you asked.

“Well, first of all, would you be willing to file a police report,” Cas said, more gently, “regarding your assault at his home.”

Your eyes widened. Your mouth fell open slightly before you looked over at Dean. His face tightened, along with his hand on the curve of your waist.

“Why do you need me to do that?” you asked Cas.

“It’ll give us the leverage we need to dig deeper into his business,” John said. “Knock loose any shady dealings. We could get him to cough up what he knows about Azazel.”

You wanted to help, but at the same time, you were reluctant to mire yourself deeper in this. Dean saw your reservations, and he could guess why.

“Won’t that just paint a bigger target on her back?” he asked.

“We’re gonna protect her,” John promised. His eyes went from Dean, back to you. “But we need your help. This could be the break we need to get to Azazel. To find out who this bastard is.”

John could see your indecision. “All you need to do is fill out the report. Maybe get up in court to testify.”

You tightened up at that. “Testify?”

“If it gets that far,” John nodded.

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head. “That man can make my life hell without a serial killer’s help.”

You looked to Dean for support.

In the beginning, he had all but begged you to do what his father and Cas were asking. But now, this was just too much. He pressed you more securely to his side.

“Dean?” his father prodded.

“You heard her,” Dean said. “It’s her choice.”

You sighed and held onto the back of his shirt gratefully. The detectives shared a look, with John’s brows furrowing. He regarded you with a gruff, slightly strained look.

“Listen, don’t you want Savage in a cold hard cell?” he asked. “You could put him there.”

“Dad, she said no. Lay off,” Dean’s tone sharpened. Unfortunately, he knew how stubborn the man could be.

“Dean, I’m trying to nail this guy, but I’m missing pieces,” John said. “Right now, I can’t do it without her.”

“Well, figure it out,” Dean snapped.

John frowned in near disbelief. "Excuse me?"

“Look, I know where your priorities are, but mine is making sure she’s safe," said Dean. "If you can’t handle that, then we’ve got a problem!”

The strength of his retort took everyone by surprise, but no one more so than John. He hid it well behind a deepening frown.

He glanced between you and his son. You were looking up at Dean with unshed tears in your red-rimmed eyes, grateful, and holding on tight to his shirt. He still held you to him. His entire frame was tight and angry.

And John knew that he would react the same way, if he were Dean. He also knew then that he was pushing too hard.

So he sighed, and pulled out a card from his wallet. He handed it to you.

“I’m sure you’ve got Cas’s number already, but here’s mine,” said John. “Call me if you change your mind.”

“I’m sorry for invading,” you told Sam that night. He was helping you and Dean bring in your suitcases. You were pretty much moving into their apartment, indefinitely.

“You’re not,” Sam said, shaking his head. “We’re happy to have you here.”

You gave him a tired, thankful smile. “I appreciate that, thanks.”

“We’ll get to have an in-house chef,” Dean chimed in, earning more amused look from you.

“Need I remind you that I’m not an actual chef?” you said. You set down your smaller suitcase, full of shoes and toiletries, to grasp the front of his shirt. You leaned up on your toes and met him with a kiss. It was sweet, but it was also tender. His arms came around your lower back and pulled you flush against him.

He parted from you gently, afterwards pressing his forehead against yours. He let out a brief sigh through his nose.

“I’m sorry, about how I left last night,” he said.

You shook your head, despite the tears that wanted to burn in your eyes. You wanted to tell him, It’s fine. I’m fine.

But you couldn’t lie to him.

“You came back when I needed you,” you said instead. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

You felt his fingers tangle in your hair, his hand resting along the back of your neck. It was familiar, and soothing.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted you to move in,” he admitted. You chuckled wryly.

“Really,” he said. “…I was thinking of asking you. But not ‘til, you know, down the line.”

You softened at that. You raised up on your toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then you circled your arms around his neck and hugged him close. He held you back just as tightly.

“Thank you for always being there for me,” you said. He couldn’t see your smile, but somehow, he knew it was there. But he could also hear you sniffle, and feel your body tremble with tears.

“You’re safe here,” Dean said softer into your ear. “Nothing’s getting to you, all right?”

You nodded, pressing your face into his neck. He continued to say and do whatever he felt he had to in order to reassure you that night, and make you feel safe.

All the while, he was trying to reassure himself.

AN: *burrr* That tension, huh? What did you think of her finally finding out about Jo's lingering feelings, plus a bit of Dean's resentment, him and Gordon coming to an understanding, and the reader meeting John for the first time! 😮‍💨😮‍💨

Good news though. Next time, we'll take a huge break from all this drama and have a nice fluffy Christmas special. (Plus a healthy dose of spice. ❤️‍🔥)

Next Time:

You hadn’t undressed yet from your jeans and sweater, but you crawled across the bed to come up behind him and drop a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“How’s your slugging arm?” you asked.

Dean quirked a smile at you over his shoulder. “Just fine.”

“Dean,” you said. Your tone was gentle, but warning. No downplaying.

You pressed your lips against the side of his head and soothed your hand along his shoulder and down his arm. Still, he was resistant.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said.

You hummed. “Okay. I guess you don’t need a massage then.”

He paused. His head tilted just so, once again turning to you over his shoulder. You spied the edge of his piqued interest, his grin.

“Well, if you’re offering…”

Keep Reading: PART 15

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 @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

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mmelionsblog · 4 months

Text

Shh, Shh, I’m right here [Dean Winchester x Reader]

warnings⚠️: panic attack

You smiled brightly at the all too familiar home of your parents. You were what the hunters called, lucky. Your whole family was untouched by the supernatural, excluding you. You got into the business because you and your friends at the age of 14, decided to play the infamous game of ‘Bloody Mary’. Bobby singer and an old friend of his saved you— the last friend standing, from Mary who was out to get you as he used you as bait after explaining everything.

Dean got out of the Impala, closing the loud creaking door. “Let’s go meet your parents,” you haven’t seen your parents in about a year or two (you don’t recall the last time meeting them), due to the important job you had and wanting your family to stay safe away from the monsters that you brought into your life. Of course, Castiel always checked up on them from far away.

You and Dean had gotten an iMessage from your sister, Alessa, saying that she got married and at least wanted to see the two of you in the after party.

So there the two of you were, standing at your aunt’s house where every holiday was spent in your family. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Birthdays, you name it.

Your family has never met Dean, except through your iPhone FaceTime calls whenever you got the chance with them. He’d pop in with Sam, saying hello then dipping. Anytime the two brothers did that, questions from your family was always after they left the room.

You knocked on the brown wooden door in front of you. The house looked brand new, even though it’s been in the family for decades.

Looks like they remolded, again. You knocked and knocked again, sighing in annoyance. “It’s open!” You hear your cousin’s voice yell from the other side of the door, and you rolled your eyes. “Of course it’s open,” you mumble. You opened the door, placed a smile on and greeted your family members.

“Congratulations little sister.” You spoke to Alessa, giving her a big gigantic hug and spinning her around. Dean said the same thing. “Oohoho, is this the hunk of a man you’re always with on the phone?” Your grandmother looked at you, then looked at Dean with a look.

“Cougar much?” You laughed, “yes. This is Dean, my boyfriend.” Gasps could be heard through the house. You have never brought a boyfriend home with you in any holiday event, or just in general. “WOW you must be a lucky one,” your uncle spoke.

Your aunt chipped in, “she’s never brought guys over. So Dean, tell us about yourself.” And so Dean spoke about himself, not mentioning what type of job he does, ignoring the comments your family brought up about his parents, and going full detail with his little brother that he’s so proud of. “I’m so telling Sam that you’re gushing about him.” You spoke, he rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare,” you shrugged with a smile.

“Where is Sam? By the way.” Your mother asked. “He’s on this job with two of our other friends right now. We would’ve gone, but we needed a break.” You told her. “Two other friends?” Your cousin, Sofia, asked. “Jack and Castiel. Yall would love to meet them. They’re super sweet, but sometimes… they don’t really understand much.” You hummed. Dean chuckled, “we had to teach—” you shook your head at Dean with your eyes wide open.

“Don’t just embarrass Cass like that. So rude,” you playfully slap his shoulder.

Everything was going so fine, until one moment somebody asked a question that made you stop working like clock work. The voices seemed so far away as your eyes teared up, you backed up from the crowded room, unbalanced, as you stumbled out.

. “Oh god. Sorry— uh I should’ve mentioned about that. We don’t ask that question, ever.” You could barely hear what Dean was talking about. “Is there a quiet place somewhere around here?” He asked, holding you close to his chest. Your aunt pointed down the hallway and he nodded, helping you move your feet as he opened a door to one of the rooms and closed it.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice got muffled into your ears. “Hey, hey. You in there?” He brushed your hair with his hands, giving you a kiss on the forehead. “Shh, shh. It’s okay. I’m right here. I got you baby.” He brought you close to his chest, your face getting squished with his gray tshirt he had on.

Dark water spots on the center of his chest just because of your tears falling down onto him. “Sorry,” you hiccuped, wiping off your tears. “It’s okay babe. M so sorry, I should’ve mentioned it before it got to that question.” His hands rested carefully on the side of your cheek, his thumb softly rubbing off the dry tears.

You leaned into his touched, all warmed up by him. “It’s fine, they didn’t know. It.. it just threw me off guard.” You whispered. He kissed your forehead once more, “I know I know. But still I should’ve given them a look or something, could’ve stopped—”

you place your index finger onto his lips, “all I need right now is you. And you’re doing just that, a great job at that. The past is the past- no matter how painful it is. I have you by my side right now comforting me and that’s all I need.” You spoke.

Dean smiled, hugging you as he brought you up to his chest. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “I love you too.”

“Now let’s go enjoy ourselves okay?”

“Okay.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #deancas #dean x castiel #sam and dean #dean x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #dean winchester x you #bobby singer #jack kline #castiel #supernatural fandom #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 1 year

Text

birth plan

masterlist

summary: you’re pregnant with castiel’s baby… or is it babies?

pairing: castiel x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.5k

warnings: pregnancy, language, medical inaccuracies i think (i’ve never been pregnant so i don’t think i describe the feeling well)

timeline: this is set in no particular season/episode but there are spoilers for the later seasons (certain characters).

author’s note: i’m basing this off a dream i had - before said dream i never even thought of cas this way at all (gotta love that subconscious, huh?) anyway, i couldn’t stop thinking of this dream so here’s a cas fic :)

when you found out you were pregnant with castiel’s baby you freaked out. not the expected ‘holy fuck there’s a living thing growing inside me’ but more like ‘holy fuck i’m gonna die in a few months cause there’s a tiny angel in my uterus’.

you cried while telling castiel, you were terrified. he assured you he wouldn’t let you die, he promised you would be okay and that the two of you could raise the baby together. if you did live, you had no clue how to raise a kid, or if you even wanted to. you had been raised a hunter and you hated it. when you were six your biggest fear was tornadoes but by the time you were seven your biggest fear was being torn apart by one of the monsters you had learned to fight.

castiel was so happy about the baby, so excited. he knew you would be a fantastic mother and he couldn’t wait to have a baby with you. he knew the baby would be loved unconditionally by so many people, too; you, him, dean, sam, jack, mary, and eileen - all of whom lived in the bunker.

as the months went by the pains grew almost unbearable. you took time away from hunting and had to stay in the bunker. castiel always made sure someone would be in the bunker with you (preferably not alone with jack, who tended to ask questions that scared you - “what if the baby is like me and you have to push a full sized person out” for example). most days cas would stay right next to you but on the rare occasion he needed to be on a hunt, you’d be alone with either eileen, mary, or one of the brothers (rowena visited a couple times, but that was more for trying to find some magical tylenol for the immense pain). you didn’t mind castiel going on hunts, in fact you wished he’d go on more so you wouldn’t feel like you were holding him back.

one morning you woke up and the pain was horrible - it felt like the baby was stabbing you from the inside. castiel tried healing you, but it was no use. the two of you decided an ultrasound was necessary.

“what?” you practically screamed, your eyes wide with fear.

“there must be some kind of mistake?” castiel knotted his brows and stared at the black and white screen in shock.

“no mistake, three heartbeats,” the doctor smiled slightly, wanting to make you feel better, but it obviously did nothing.

“cas i can’t push three kids out!” you whispered. he was holding your left hand in his and standing beside you, his right arm was draped over your shoulder. “cas- castiel i can’t! i- i’m not strong enough! i won’t!” tears were streaming down your face when you turned away from the screen and to the angel.

“could you give us a minute?” cas asked the doctor, she nodded and left. “honey it’s gonna be alright.”

“three baby angels, cas! three! how- how the fuck am i supposed to push three angels out of me, cas?” you were practically sobbing at this point. “i- i’m gonna die, aren’t i?”

“no! no you won’t! i promise you, i will not let you die,” he pulled you into his chest and rubbed your back lovingly. “i know this must be scary, triplets is- it’s gonna be painful.” he kissed the crown of your head.

“but three babies! i mean if i do, by some miracle, manage to give birth and survive, how are we gonna raise three kids, cas?” you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him as close to you as you could.

“well, we do have four adults and a nephilim excited to help,” he answered, causing you to laugh lightly. it’s true, you had all the support you could need.

cas drove the two of you back to the bunker and you were met with said four adults and nephilim immediately asking where you had been. the five of them were on a hunt and got back while you and cas were at the ob/gyn. you hadn’t left the bunker in months so they had assumed the worst.

you told them the news and they all reacted differently than you and cas. they were so excited, it made you realized they really wanted to help raise the kids. (infact, they had all began thinking of names and had cleaned out the room next to your’s and cas’ for the babies.)

castiel knew that your pregnancy wouldn’t last as long as a normal pregnancy so he wanted to come up with a birth plan. dean purchased new burner phones for each person that were never to be silenced or turned off and the only people who had the numbers were the seven of you. the second you went into labor, someone near you (or you, if you could) would call castiel immediately. if possible they would also notify the others.

another couple months or so went by. you were due any day now - but you had been due any day for over two weeks. you had gotten somewhat used to the pain and rowena had come up with a simple spell with some herbs that you’d mix with your tea every couple hours to help with the pain. garth had moved into the bunker temporarily - he was a trained doula after having to deliver werewolf pups. rowena moved in temporarily too, but that was more for moral support and pain management.

“cas you haven’t left the bunker in over a month! go on this hunt,” you assured him. it was a hunt close by and he was going to take jack with him.

“promise you won’t go into labor til i get back?”

“i won’t let these kiddos leave,” you smile, patting your stomach playfully. he gave you a peck on the lips before leaving with jack.

a couple hours in, you began getting long, sharp pains every few minutes. rowena was the one who recognized the pains as contractions.

“you’re going into labor, we need to get you to the birth room.” she took your your hand gently but you whipped it away.

“no, no i promised cas i’d wait for him,” you shook your head. “the babies are just gonna have to stay put for a whi- ah!” you scrunched your face in pain, holding your stomach.

“okay, we’ll get cas on the phone, we can pray for jack - they’ll be here before you know it,” she tried to reason with you and motioned you to follow her. you shook your head vigorously and didn’t move your feet, absolutely terrified of what was about to happen.

“holy shit,” your eyes widened, cloudy with tears. “my water- i think my water just broke!” you both looked down. “that’s- that’s broken water!”

“exactly hun, you’re going into labor you need to let me help you to the birth room, okay?”

“oh- okay,” you nodded and she helped you to the room. she called out that you were going into labor as she walked you over.

about a month ago the brothers and jack came home to the bunker with a hospital bed from the maternity ward. you didn’t ask how they got it, but you were grateful they did. everyone helped set up the room; towels, blankets, a mini freezer for ice chips, and just about anything you might need while in labor and giving birth.

sam and dean carefully helped you onto the bed. mary called cas and within seconds he and jack were in the room.

“cas!” you smiled, relieved to see him.

“hey, y/n, how are you?” he asked, rushing to your side and tightly holding your hand.

“i’m in pain, cas, i’m about to push three celestial beings out my vagina!” you said dryly.

“right, right, okay it’ll be okay, though,” he kissed your forehead. “you’re gonna be okay. jack’s here and he will keep you alive and well.”

“okay,” you whispered.

“time to start pushing, y/n,” garth announced.

within the hour you had pushed all three babies out. three identical baby boys; with cas’ piercing blue eyes and your winning smile. you were absolutely exhausted, but you were alive. you were holding one baby, cas was holding another, and garth was holding the third.

“so, what’re we naming the little guys?” cas asked, a huge smile on his face and his eyes not moving away from his new baby boy.

“this one’s sam,” you smiled down at the tiny being in your arms. “he’s the biggest.”

“then that makes this little guy dean, he’s a smallest,” cas laughed a little in response. dean would’ve been annoyed at the height joke but he was so honored you were naming a kid after him.

“what about this little guy?” garth asked.

“bobby,” you smiled.

no one went on any hunts for almost two weeks. they all stayed and helped with the babies. baby dean would be named dean jack y/l/n, baby sam would be named samuel charles y/l/n, and baby bobby would be named robert garth y/l/n.

#supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #jack kline #rowena macleod #garth fitzgerald iv #mary winchester #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fluff #castiel fanfiction #castiel x reader #castiel comfort #castiel x pregnant reader #pregnant reader #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean

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