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zepskies · 7 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 4

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.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: “Take It to the Limit” by The Eagles

Word Count: 6,000 Tags/Warnings: Major fluff alert. Some angst(ish). First date part 2…and a second date?

Part 4: Rocky Road

You enjoyed dinner more than you expected to. Dean was funny, and charming, and deeper than you might’ve expected at first glance.

He also didn’t let you even think of paying any part of the bill. In his view, he’d asked you out, so your purse was staying the hell away from the little black booklet.

The only problem was, the freely flowing conversation you and Dean had all through dinner kind of stalled after you left the restaurant. He’d chosen a spot in downtown, so the two of you walked leisurely down the sidewalk, under rows of soft overhead string lights and a gentle chill on the evening air.

Dean had his hands in his pockets, and even that casual gait caught your eye. He looked good tonight in his black slacks and jacket. The dark blue buttoned-down worked for him too, just as well as the red plaid and jeans worked for him last night. Just like his gray lieutenant’s polo and navy pants worked for him.

In fact, you didn’t think there was anything that wouldn’t work for him.

“So, what’s next?” you asked. Dean glanced over at your question, looking a bit uncertain.

“Well, I’m gonna be honest. This is as far as I thought things through,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

You hummed and touched your chin. You paused and considered your surroundings. There were little shops, clubs, and restaurants on either side of the street. But then you spotted something nearby: a cart with a pink overhead. You smiled.

“You up for dessert?” you asked, pointing to the ice cream stand.

Dean shot you a slightly disbelieving look.

“Yeah? Ice cream after that fancy shmancy meal?”

You shrugged. “Why not? Come on.”

You looped your arm through his and tugged him along with you. He smiled at your enthusiasm and let you do it.

He later watched you try no less than five flavors of ice cream before you settled on the first one you tried—chocolate chip cookie dough. Which you ordered on a cone, with brownie pieces on top.

“The only way to do business,” you told him sagely. Dean grinned and held a hand to his chest.

“A woman after my own heart,” he said. “Here I thought you were gonna make fun of me for getting rocky road.”

“Why would I? I don’t discriminate when it comes to dessert…and only fun people get rocky road,” you countered.

“Tell that to my brother,” Dean scoffed. “He gets plain-ass chocolate chip. Every time.”

“Oh, you have a brother?” you noted with interest. “Any other siblings?”

“Nope,” he said, and accepted his cone from Steve, the guy operating the kiosk. “Just my giant little brother.”

“Giant?”

“…You’ll understand when you meet him.”

“When, not if. That’s encouraging,” you said with a smile. Dean shot you an amused grin back.

You held your cone with one hand while you rifled through your purse for your wallet with the other, but by the time you looked up, Dean was already handing over his credit card. Your brows furrowed.

“Dean—”

“This is all still part of the date,” he rationalized. His green eyes fairly danced with amusement, which you begrudgingly accepted with a sigh.

You then looked at your cone from all angles, trying to spy the best spot to start. You decided to go at it from the side. Though you tried to be graceful about it, you realized you hadn’t totally succeeded when a brownie piece almost fell off. You yelped and managed to catch it before it fell on your dress.

“Smooth,” Dean remarked. You shrugged and hummed happily while you took another bite.

“I told you. I don’t play when it comes to dessert,” you told him.

“Clearly,” he teased.

You briefly looked up at him through your lashes, making him smile. You really did have a pretty pair of eyes. And when your tongue came out a little to lick your lips, he was drawn to that as well.

And an even prettier mouth, he thought. Damn.

He raised a thumb to wipe away a bit of ice cream left behind on your lower lip. You blinked up at him, your eyes a bit wider, and he saw the bout of shyness in your resulting smile.

You shivered then with a bit of cold, whether from the ice cream or the chill on the air.

Dean’s mouth quirked, and he gave you his cone. “Hold this for a sec.”

You did so for him, but you watched him curiously as he shrugged out of his jacket. He wrapped it around your shoulders, like this was some kind of Hallmark moment.

Heh. Can’t believe Meg had it right, he thought, as he caught your blush.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

“Can’t let you catch cold in this little dress,” Dean reasoned. He tugged you in closer by the ends of his jacket.

Once again, his gaze was drawn to your face, your eyes, and finally your lips. You still held both ice cream cones between you two, but he could be careful enough to sample something else.

He started to lean in…

“Hey, man!” said Steve. “Don’t forget your wallet.”

Hesitating, Dean’s lips pursed as he turned his head to look back. Sure enough, he’d left his wallet on the counter. Letting out a subtle sigh, he glanced down and found you biting your lip in amusement.

He released you to go back and pluck his wallet out of Steve’s hand. The kid looked college age, and chilled out of his mind, like he didn’t realize he’d just interrupted another dude’s flow.

“Thank you,” said Dean, a bit pointedly.

Steve gave him a bored smile.

While you continued walking and finishing off your ice cream, you went with the flow of people coming and going; couples, families, people walking their dogs and with their children for an evening stroll.

You learned that Dean’s brother was a few years younger than him. The two shared an apartment, though Sam had a girlfriend, Eileen.

She worked at a specialty school, specifically with hearing impaired children, as she herself was deaf. Sam had learned a bit of ASL in school and worked on becoming fluent after they met. He was an assistant prosecutor working in the district attorney’s office.

“Wow. They sound like a power couple,” you remarked.

Dean inclined his head. “Yeah, they’re the smartest people I know, to be honest. They’ve been going strong for a few years now.”

And he learned that you were an only child, raised by your grandparents, and still living in your childhood home with your grandfather.

You admitted to him that after your grandmother passed away a few years ago, you just never found it within yourself to move out and leave George alone. He still needed you…and you probably needed him too, in some ways.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Dean said. "Taking care of your people is number one."

You gave him an appreciative look. He wanted to ask where your parents were in this situation, but he didn’t want to pry if you weren’t up for sharing. It felt like something even more personal.

You then stopped in front of a beautiful French bakery. It was closed, but you could still smell freshly baked bread and sweetness through the glass doors. You leaned against them while you peered inside.

“Ooh, I’ll need to come back here,” you said, before you remembered that you did in fact have company. Dean sidled up next to you and crossed his arms in amusement.

“You want a piece of cake or something?” he teased. “I’ll get my crowbar from the car.”

You grinned. “Not the jaws of life?”

“That’d be a bit extreme for a glass door, don’t you think?” He raised a brow at you.

“Don’t underestimate the lengths I’ll go to for quality cake,” you quipped back.

“All right,” he chuckled. “I like a girl who knows what she wants.”

You’d lost count of how many times you’d blushed tonight, but it had to be a record. You turned to him, but unconsciously kept a hand on the glass door.

“When I was in culinary school, I dreamed of opening up a bakery just like this,” you said. There was the gleam of memory and nostalgia in your eyes, and Dean found himself getting swept up in it.

“What happened to the dream?” he asked.

You sighed, letting your hand fall away from the glass. You hesitated to confide in him, to reveal this much of yourself. But there was something about this man that…well, that made you trust him. Even with this part. You tugged his jacket closer to your body.

“My grandma died about a month before I graduated,” you said. “She and my grandpa raised me…after my mom left.”

Dean’s gaze gentled, while his brows drew together. That just about answered his question about your parents.

“How old were you when she left?” he asked.

“Officially? Six years old,” you replied, sighing heavily. “She didn’t want responsibilities.”

He acknowledged this with a slow nod. He got the feeling your dad was never in the picture.

“Have you talked to her since?”

“No,” you said. “I lived with my grandparents from the beginning. She’d breeze in and out of town, from what little I remember. But one day, Gram finally asked her: When are you going to realize that you’re a mother?”

You glanced away for a moment. “Well, after that…I never saw her again.”

You took in a deeper breath to steady yourself. You didn’t often talk about this, let alone with someone you’d just met. Yet again, you felt safe enough with Dean.

“But after Gram passed, my grandfather was already retired,” you continued. “I needed a job, not a pipe dream.”

Dean had been listening to you with rapt attention. This was the first time he truly frowned. The wind was brushing strays of your hair across your forehead. He reached out and tucked a few strands behind your ear.

“Not all dreams are pipe dreams,” he said.

You flickered at a smile, looking up at him.

“Fair enough,” you replied.

Your eyes roamed his face this time, falling to his lips. You found yourself tilting up your chin when his face began bowing toward yours.

You felt his warm breath on your cheek, his hands grasping your arms, your hands gently resting against his sternum. By now, your heart was tripping up, double timing. And yet, you felt at ease as your eyes closed.

Only to be startled out of your wits when a dog yapped by your feet.

Even Dean jolted. His grip on your arms tightened on reflex. Both of you turned with wide eyes at the little Pomeranian that yanked at its leash. The woman holding it pulled her dog back.

“Sorry!” she called as she passed by. And she was still wrangling with the dog as she made her way down the sidewalk.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. You read the thought across Dean’s frowning face. Though you felt the same way, you still smiled.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek instead.

“Thanks for listening,” you said. “I know that was heavy for a first date. I’m sorry.”

Dean’s eyes were warm when he looked down at you. You seemed to be honest and straightforward, which wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, he liked that a lot. In his experience, it wasn’t something he encountered very often with women.

Or maybe just with the women you’ve gone after, he thought.

“Nah, don’t apologize…but I’m sorry for your loss. I really am,” he said, thumbing at your cheek.

You could see that he meant it too. “Thank you.”

You ducked your head, fighting embarrassment. Not that he'd given to reason to feel embarrassed or ashamed, but you still couldn't believe he'd cracked you open like a book, without even trying. Andréa was sure to tease the hell out of you for that one.

You glanced back up and managed to spy something past Dean's shoulder. You smiled and took his hand.

“Oh look! There’s a bookstore open,” you said, and led him farther down the path.

Dean later followed you, once again with his hands in his pockets as you browsed through each aisle. He should’ve known you were a reader. But you were cute, he thought, as your fingers brushed across certain spines of books while you scanned their titles and covers.

You glanced over at him. “I’m sorry. This must be really boring for you right now. I’ll come back another time—”

“No, no. I’m along for the ride,” Dean said with a smirk. It earned another amused look from you.

“Well, buckle up then,” you teased. You led him down to the Mystery section—murder mysteries being your favorite, you told him. He raised a brow at that.

“What? Were you expecting romance novels with telenovela-style covers?” you asked. And you draped yourself across the bookshelf, holding the back of your hand up to your forehead, like you were about to “faint.”

Dean shook his head at you, but his eyes were dancing again.

“Nah, give me a juicy mystery,” you said, as you continued to browse. “Clues, evidence, surprise twists, villain reveals…”

“Well, I’ll say that real life Magnum P.I. ain’t all that fun,” Dean remarked. That made you raise your head from the book you were inspecting and look over at him.

“Hmm, that sounds like personal experience,” you said.

He hesitated, but he eventually nodded. “Yeah. My dad’s a cop. A detective, actually, in homicide. Real Law & Order, you could say.”

Your eyes grew comically wide, and Dean had to laugh.

“Now that is interesting,” you said. “How long has he been a cop?”

“Heh. My whole life,” Dean replied. There was something behind his eyes that you didn’t miss.

“Hmm, something tells me being a cop's kid isn't all it’s cracked up to be,” you said. "Bet you couldn't get away with anything, huh?"

He smirked. "Not a damn thing. I coulda sworn my dad had cameras planted all over the house."

But no, his dad was just that good at reading him and Sam. Granted, it wasn't often that they tried to pull one over on the old man, but their teenage years had been...interesting.

You laughed lightly while you continued to browse.

“Your dad was tough growing up?” you asked. Dean considered you, and your question with a tilt of his head.

“My dad’s a good guy,” he said. “The best at his job. And he’s the toughest son of a bitch I know.”

You knew then that there was a story there, or maybe several, but you didn’t want to push it. Dean seemed to be at the edge of what he was willing to get into on the subject.

So you just nodded and chose a couple of books, which you insisted on paying for yourself. Unlike a meal or dessert, he hadn’t participated in this part, you reasoned.

“That’s not how that works,” Dean said, but he begrudgingly let you pay for your own books. You carried the bag out of the store with a satisfied smile on your face.

Dean shook his head with a smile of his own. Though he did take your free hand in his on the way back to the car.

Dean meant to take you back to your house…but maybe you weren’t quite ready for the night to end just yet. He was driving his sleek tank of a car down the main road when you got an idea.

“Oh, we’re going to drive over the river,” you remembered. “There’s this little spot right before it where you can pull over and park, see the skyline… Have you seen it?”

Dean glanced over at you with a gleam in his eye. “I have. It’s definitely a sight to see.”

“I haven’t seen it in a while,” you said.

A smile curved his lips. “Well, that’s a damn shame. Let’s fix that.”

The Impala soon pulled into a clearing off the side of the road, just before the Kansas River. True to your memory, there was a beautiful view of the city skyline. The half-moon above sprinkled light across the water. The waves were otherwise black and choppy.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen it at night,” Dean said. You turned to him and smiled.

“Thanks for tonight. I had a really good time,” you said.

He raised his brows at you. “We’re not done yet. You’re the one who wanted to sightsee.”

You chuckled and nodded in agreement. You were feeling a bit warm with the heating vents on you, so you unclipped your seatbelt and shrugged off Dean’s coat. You folded it up nicely and draped it across your lap.

You didn’t notice it, but Dean’s gaze drifted over to you when you bared your shoulders again, revealing smooth skin and the tantalizing neckline of your dress. Even in the dim lighting, the vibrant green caught his eye.

But it wasn’t until the car stopped rumbling so much that you noticed the radio playing hard rock in the background. It sounded like a lot of screaming and guitars to you.

“What the hell are we listening to?” you said.

“Hmm, not an Van Halen fan?” Dean replied, giving you a chiding eye. “Aw, I don’t know if I can trust you if you can’t appreciate Sammy Hagar.”

“Oh no,” you said with a laugh. “He likes mullet rock.”

“Yes, he does,” Dean grinned. “The bigger, crazier hair the better.”

You rolled your eyes. “All right, Hendrix. Mind if we change the station?”

You hand reached for the radio knob, but Dean’s hand batted yours away.

“Ey, ey!” he said, though a smile raised the corners of his lips. “Driver picks the music.”

You full on laughed then.

“Okay, but can we please listen to something less grating?” you asked.

Dean snorted. “All right, your highness. Let me see what I’ve got…”

You watched him curiously as he reached over on his side and pulled out a few ancient relics.

“Oh my God. You still listen to cassettes?” you asked in disbelief. Dean shot you another grin as he sorted through a handful of them. He considered you for a moment, debating his decision.

He chose a cassette and popped it in. Soon, the rhythmic melody of a guitar filtered through the speakers. You tilted your head.

“The Eagles?” you guessed. The song was familiar…

“All alone at the end of the evening, and the bright lights have faded to blue,” crooned from the speakers. “I was thinking 'bout a woman who might have loved me. I never knew…”

“Wow, all right,” Dean said, grinning. “Guess I haven’t lost you to the Bieber pop masses just yet.”

You gave him an amused look.

“My grandfather is an Eagles fan,” you smirked back. Though you patted the Impala’s dashboard. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’ve got an old soul.”

“I prefer the term ‘vintage,’” Dean quipped. He noted the way you seemed to be admiring his car. “My dad played this stuff all the time when Sam and I were kids…I guess the car’s another thing he passed down to me.”

You looked over at him then. “Yeah? He give it to you as a graduation gift or something?”

He inclined his head, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Sort of,” he said. You smiled then, shifting towards him in your seat.

“Ooh, that sounds like a story.”

He acknowledged that with a nod, though he hesitated. “You really wanna hear it?”

You rested an elbow on the armrest between his chair and yours, chin in hand, staring up at him encouragingly. Your brows raised in a “go ahead” gesture.

With an amused sigh, Dean nodded.

“Believe it or not, after I graduated high school, I wasn’t sold on the whole college thing.” His lips twisted wryly. “That was more Sam’s beat. So my dad thought it’d be good if I followed in his.”

Your eyes widened. “You were going to be a police officer?”

Dean smiled. “Well, I got into the Academy.”

That was where he met Cas, all those years ago. First, they were sort of silently competing on their scores, each wanting to be the best in the class. For Dean, it was because John Winchester had been the best. To this day, he still held some of the top scores in the region.

Meanwhile, Cas had come from a strict, religious family that drove him to succeed in whatever he put his mind to. Cas hadn’t liked Dean’s casual, joking, surface-level arrogance, thinking he wasn’t taking it seriously.

Dean had thought the guy had a serious pole stuck up his ass.

“I was about halfway through, but I just…my heart wasn’t in it,” Dean said. “Cas could see it. He asked me why the hell I was working so hard if I didn’t really want this.”

“To beat me?” Cas had asked. “To level your dad’s scores? To prove you can be him? Frankly, that sounds idiotic. Not to mention, utterly pathetic.”

Dean hadn’t wanted to face it at first, but he’d known then that his archenemy was right.

“You know…up until then, I don’t think I’d ever considered what the hell it was I wanted,” he admitted. His fingers drummed on the Impala’s steering wheel.

He knew you were listening. Just listening, like you were taking in his every word. He didn’t know why, but your quiet attention made him keep trying to fill the silence.

“So I quit,” he said. “Didn’t tell my dad…but Sam was the one who put the Fire Academy paperwork on my desk. Once I worked up the nerve, I took the firefighter test on the sly.”

“Was your dad mad?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “At first.”

It had also been the first time he felt like he’d truly impressed his father. Namely, by not doing what John expected of him. That was more Sam’s territory.

“But after I made it through the Fire Academy, he gave me Baby,” said Dean.

He laid a fond hand on the steering wheel. It hadn't been the first time John said he was proud of Dean, but that day was still a good one, etched into Dean's memories. Sometimes it blocked out the darker ones.

“Baby?” you asked in bemusement.

He blinked, looking over at you with a quirk of his lips.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, and swiped a hand over his mouth.

That, and the way his gaze dropped a bit, you thought he seemed a bit embarrassed. Not by his old-ass taste in music, but by the fact that he’d named his car.

What a giant dork, you thought, as your smile grew.

Leveraging a hand on the armrest, you leaned over and kissed his cheek for the second time tonight. This time you lingered a moment, leaving the mark of your lipstick behind.

“It’s a good name,” you said.

Dean smiled back at you. Right about then, that was about the best thing you could’ve said.

He raised a hand to your cheek, brushing the back of his hand along your jaw. He settled on gently taking your chin between his fingers, before he leaned in and finally kissed you.

It started out slow as his lips moved against yours with purpose. Your eyes closed at the feel of him. Each new touch drew you in further, making your head swim with warmth, and your heart begin to race.

You unconsciously reached out and grasped the collar of his shirt. His hand moved to cradle your cheek and guide your head to the side, so he could deepen the kiss. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and his tongue soon swept across to sooth it. You couldn't help the small, pleasant shudder that ran through you.

You weren’t sure who stopped first, but when your eyes eventually opened again, it was to those talented lips curving into a smile.

“Not gonna lie, I’ve been trying to do that all night,” he said, chuckling a bit.

You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up into your throat and managed to escape. “I know.”

You leaned against him, with your hand still curled in his shirt. Your eyes briefly lowered.

At the delightfully hair-raising feeling of his thumb brushing back and forth against your cheek, you glanced back up at him. Your smile became more flirtatious, yet still with a bit of nervous energy.

“Want to reenact the moment?” you asked.

Dean grinned and pulled you in again, flush against him this time. All while his music continued to play. You recognized another one from your grandpa’s collection. This time, you didn’t mind.

This man might’ve been vintage in his tastes, but his touch made you feel brand new.

“What would you say…about doing this again sometime?” Dean asked.

That is, between feverish kisses on your front porch. You’d been trying to say goodnight for a few minutes now, but every time you tried, the two of you kept getting pulled back into the feel of one another.

He held you close against him, his hands molded to the curve up your hip and pressing into your lower back. Your fingers were alternatively tangling and soothing into his hair. You clung to his shoulders as his lips and tongue continued to rob you of your breath, as well as your good sense.

You were making out with this man under the porch light like you were a teenager afraid of getting caught by your grandfather. (He was probably asleep by now anyway.)

And you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been kissed like this, touched like this. The evening chill spread goosebumps across your arms, but your insides were warm and champagne-bubbly. All the while, his lips made slow, sensuous movements against yours.

When you caught a moment to pull away, just to take in a few needed breaths, your eyes flicked up to his.

“I’d say make an appointment,” you teased. “I’m a busy woman.”

You tapped his chin with a finger, making him smile.

“Oh, yeah? Can you pencil me in…say, tomorrow at 7:00?” he asked.

“Tomorrow.” You raised a brow. “Anxious, are we?”

His smile faltered, just a little. “Too soon?”

“…No,” you admitted. If you were honest, you wanted to see him too. “7:00 is good.”

Dean was about to reply when the porch lights flickered overhead. Your brows furrowing, you turned and spotted your grandfather in the window by the front door. You didn't like the look of his smile, hinting with mischief.

“Oh my God,” you muttered.

“Did I make you miss curfew or something?” Dean joked.

Embarrassment began to heat up your face in record time. You groaned and shook your head as you turned in his arms.

“My grandfather, ladies and gentlemen.” Your lips quirked. “And his incurable wit.”

Dean’s hands fell away from you so you could reach for the door, just as you heard it unlocking from the other side. George cracked the door open a few inches and peeked his head out.

“If you wanna put on a show, you should sell tickets,” he quipped, giving you and Dean a raised brow.

“Grandpa, really?”

He laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Just kiddin’,” he said. “Hey there. Heard you’re the fireman who saved the cheeky damsel in distress here. How many does that make for ya this week?”

You sighed. And you pleaded with Dean, via your eyes, to be patient here.

“Well, wouldn’t call her a damsel, but she’s certainly the prettiest one so far,” Dean told your grandfather, though he shot you a teasing wink.

You couldn't help a smile. “Yeah, he’s got a caravan of us waiting back at the station.”

Dean chuckled along with George, who then gave him a more appraising look. Dean knew when he was being silently judged. He met the older man’s gaze directly.

“Anyway, sorry for crashing in. Glad to meet you, son. I’m George,” said your grandfather. He stepped out fully to shake Dean’s hand.

Dean took it with a firm, but relaxed grip. He nodded respectfully.

“Good to meet you. I’m Dean.”

“So I’ve heard,” George said, his tone a little enigmatic. “You plannin’ on seeing her again? ‘Cause I think you might be a special one. She had me approve no less than five different outfits before she decided. And I said, ‘Hun, if he’s half a man at all he wouldn’t care if you were dressed in a woolly potato sack and nothin' else—’”

“All right, is that Wheel of Fortune on back there?” you quickly cut in. A wilder blush was taking root down to your neck. You pointed back inside, where you could hear the TV playing. “I think your show’s back on.”

George’s eyes widened like he was catching on to you, reading between your lines. He “apologized” with placating hands.

“Okay, that’s my cue. Though I’ll have you know, it’s Shark Week on the Discovery channel. Wheel of Fortune’s for old people,” he quipped.

Dean smirked. “Hell yeah. Gotta love Shark Week.”

“Right?” George gestured at him as if he’d just found a kindred spirit. “A whole damn week of sharks.”

“Great! Well, sounds like the show’s back from commercial,” you hinted. Actually, you hoped he recorded those episodes. You loved a good nature documentary that made you fear the beach for another six months.

“All right, I got it.” Grinning to himself, George gave Dean one last tip of his imaginary hat. “G’night, you two.”

“Good night,” you and Dean replied, though yours was distinctly tighter, while he was more amused. He glanced down at you after the door clicked shut.

You bit your lip, meeting his eyes. “Sorry. No matter how old I get, that’s still his way of being protective.”

“As he should,” Dean said, chuckling a little. He bucked a gentle fist under your chin. “You’re like a daughter to him, right?”

Your lingering embarrassment began to even out into a smile.

“Yeah, basically.”

“With a sharp shooter like you, I’ll bet he doesn’t have a lot of chances to look out for you,” he remarked.

You inclined your head at that.

“Maybe,” you replied. You reached out to straighten the lines of his jacket. You’d managed to wrinkle him a bit since hanging out in his car by the river earlier.

“So…you said something about 7:00 tomorrow?” you asked tentatively.

Dean grinned. But it soon faded as reality seemed to interject. “Ah…you know what, let’s do 7:30.”

His hands found your waist, but they soon slid around to hold you securely in his arms. It made a heady feeling rush through you, down to the tips of your fingers. You soothed through the mess you made of his hair and rested your hands on his arms afterwards.

“Are you sure?” you asked. Dean thought about it for a moment.

“Let’s do 8:00, just to be safe. I get off work at 6:30,” he said. He wanted to give plenty of wiggle room, just in case something cropped up.

You agreed, even though this aspect of things had the potential to make you anxious. You knew his job was unpredictable at times, but you were a planner, organized and detail oriented. And you did not like the unknown. Hence your mildly anal tendency to make checklists.

Dean could see the wheels turning in your head though.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. When he gave his word, he fully intended to keep it.

So he kissed away the reservations he saw in your eyes.

Despite the pure magic that had been last night, today, you had a suspicious feeling.

It was 8:30 in the evening, and Dean still wasn’t knocking at your door. He hadn’t responded to your text either.

You were ready for dinner. This time in a black dress, nice, short, and enticing, as your grandma had long ago impressed on you: every woman should have a little black dress.

At 9:00, you gave into your instincts and tried to call him. It rang for a while, but ultimately went to voicemail. You sat on the living room couch with a glass of wine in one hand, your cell in the other, and you frowned.

You still hadn’t moved the vase of tulips from the coffee table, and you noticed them again. They were starting to open up nicely.

Grandpa George glanced over at you from his favorite chair, watching your mood begin to sour with both annoyance and worry.

“He’s probably just caught up on a call,” he said, and raised a teasing brow. “Maybe saving another girl from a crapped out elevator.”

You shot him a droll look. “Thanks. But yeah, he probably just got held up at work…not standing me up at all.”

Logically, you knew it was probably the first option, but the less secure part of yourself wondered.

George relented when he saw how pensive you looked, with a tinge of impatience.

“You must really like this guy,” he said.

You looked over at him with a soft frown, but you didn’t answer. It told your grandfather everything he needed to know. Even with the protective walls you tended to put up whenever you were anxious, he knew you better than anyone.

“It may not be what you think. Just relax,” he said. “He’ll call eventually. And when he does, let him actually talk.”

You huffed. But your lips formed a smile as you nodded in agreement.

Whatever was holding Dean up, you just hoped he was safe.

However, by 10:00 p.m., you were both worried and irritated. You changed out of your dress, but you kept your makeup on in one last ditch effort of hope.

You laid in bed and watched Friends reruns. Even though you knew every joke, it usually still managed to make you laugh.

Not this time, unfortunately.

But, Dean finally called around 10:30. You let it ring a few times before you answered your cell.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” you greeted flatly.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said. His tone was already full of remorse, but you couldn’t help it. You were feeling petty.

“I don’t think you get to ‘sweetheart’ me tonight,” you said.

“Look, uh…I’m sorry I’m not there,” said Dean. “I really am. I wasn’t trying to do this to you.”

…Damn it, you actually believed him. You heard the sincerity in his voice, along with how tired he seemed to be. And that was before he even got to the explanation.

“There was a five-car pileup on the road, and someone got T-boned on either side,” he said. “It took us basically all night to clear it up and get the injured out of there. Was a big mess. I just left the station a few minutes ago.”

Your irritation soon fizzled into shame. You should’ve known.

“That’s…a really good reason,” you said.

“Just let me shower and I’ll come right out to you.”

You sighed. “It’s okay, Dean. Let’s just try for another time. You must be tired…”

It was his turn to sigh.

“I know it ain’t okay,” he said eventually. “I can hear you clear as day.”

Your lips quirked wryly.

“How can I complain, Dean? You were literally saving people.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re all dolled up, and I’m not gonna get to see it,” he said. A bit of his usual charm and good humor crept into his voice. It made you smile.

“And I really put some effort into this smokey eye,” you quipped. You also curled a strand of styled hair around your finger absently.

“I’m gonna pretend I know what that means, but it sounds sexy as hell,” he replied.

Your smile deepened. “Okay, what about Tuesday night?”

“Hmm…sorry, that day’s no good. I’ve got a 24-hour shift Tuesday to Wednesday,” he said. “What about Thursday night?”

“Ah…I’ve got an appointment after work,” you said.

Really it was George’s doctor’s appointment, but you wanted to go with him this time to make sure the doctor was doing his best to diagnose George’s persistent cough.

He’d also been more tired lately, you’d noticed, even after a full night’s sleep. He was blaming it on old age, but you knew your grandfather. You knew when he was downplaying to avoid the doctor, or to avoid worrying you.

“Friday?” you posed.

“I’ve got another long shift,” Dean said.

Damn it. It seemed like his schedule and yours wasn’t very compatible. You were starting to get discouraged…

“Oh, wait,” Dean said, his tone perking up. “I forgot. I’ve got this Monday off, during the day…why don’t I take you out to lunch?”

“Lunch?” You considered it with a frown. “It can be hard for me to leave my desk. I have to take a lot of calls.”

Most days you worked straight through your lunch hour. But Dean’s reply was smooth.

“That’s all right,” he said. “How about I bring takeout? Office picnic.”

Slowly, you smiled.

“Okay. I’ll see you on Monday then,” you agreed.

“Yes, you will,” Dean said. His tone was firm. “You can count on it.”

AN: Okay! How did you like part 2 of their first date? (And Dean meeting George for the first time lol.)

Hopefully round two of their second date will go better. Though Dean finally meets the infamous boss...

Next Time:

“Hey, what’s your progress on the Greenway account…oh,” said Nick, pausing where he stood.

He took note of Dean in the room and straightened his posture. His expression changed from its lazy gait, to a more tightened one. You swore you could spot a tinge of annoyance as well, like he was surprised that he hadn’t caught you alone in your office.

“I see I’m interrupting,” he said.

Holding in a sigh, you looked over at Dean and found him similarly assessing Nick.

“This is Dean. You might remember him from last week, when the elevator broke down. He’s one of the firefighters who got me out,” you said.

Your hand fell on your companion's arm. “Dean, this is—”

“Her boss,” Nick said. He seemed to lighten up and give Dean a smile, reaching over to shake the man’s hand. Dean obliged him.

“So I’ve heard,” he said.

Keep Reading: PART 5

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

#Rocky Road #Smoke Eater #Part 4 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

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just-my-fandom · 1 year

Text

Rocky Road P3 (JJ Maybank x Routledge! Reader)

Season 2 chapter 3

Summary; Popes appointment in Charleston takes an omnious turn over a proposed trade.

Warnings; Cursing, Pope almost gets kidnapped lol, Reader gets shot (yep), lots of time skips.

Note; Back at it again, I haven’t updated since February 2022 and I’m excited to get back down to business. Let’s GO!

Edit; So I’ve realized that the end got cut off, my Tumblr has been glitching to where it’s cutting off the last two sentences of anything I write. Please disregard as I try to fix this!

Tag list; @sinisterspidey @parkerhale13 @thoughts-elsewhere @b-lueberryy @deamus-liv @bubs-world @bibliophilewednesday @sexualparkour @jjpouggues @poguestyle17

You stand with your arms crossed. Head tilted up, your eyes squint against the bright afternoon sun to eye the wire gate in front of you.

“So like,” JJ brings a hand to rub the back of his head, “Are those spikes to keep people out?”

“No,” Kiaras answer is simple, sad, and you glance over to look at her,

“The slave quarters are over there,” Popes head nods across the yard past the gate, and your eyebrows raise in realization, “These spikes were to keep people in,”

Minutes later, and you watch as Pope knocks on the front door once, twice, three times before stepping back, his gaze flickering between you and your two other friends, “Think that was too much?”

“It echoed the entire house, that’s for sure,” JJ flicks his eyebrows up, shrugging, “So they definitely heard it,”

“Maybe nobody’s home,” Kie hopes, Pope reaching forward to knock again, only this time the door jerks open, and you step back as a man steps into view, snarl stuck on his face as he looks between the four teenagers,

The man suddenly smirks, finger raising to point at your friend beside you, “You must be Pope,”

“Um,” Pope pauses, “Are you Mr. Limbrey?”

“Ms. Limbrey was expecting you yesterday,” The man raises an eyebrow, eyes scanning across you, JJ, then Kie before settling back on Pope,

“I’m sorry,” Pope clears his throat, “My car broke down on the way up here,”

“Carburetor blew up in the middle of Nowheresville,” JJ speaks up, so the man’s eyes then stared at JJ, slowly shifting to you so your brows furrowed,

“Yeah she was real upset when you didn’t show up,” The man stares at Pope once again, Kie shrugging a weak shoulder,

“We tried to call, but there’s no number on the invitation,”

“We got here as fast as we could,” You exhale, the man grunting as he, a third time, stares at you, before looking back to Pope,

“She also expected you to come alone,”

“I mean, these are my friends,” Pope glances back as the man rolls his eyes, “They helped find the Royal Merchant too. Y/Ns dad-,”

“Yeah the instructions were explicit,” The man cuts, “Your friends can stay outside,”

Your eyes flick to the man, nodding, silently, “We’ll keep the car running, then,”

. . .

“Look, if Limbrey is legit-,” Kiaras sudden conversation dies down at the weird sight of the man and Ms. Limbrey leading Pope to the back of the house.

You worriedly look at JJ, confused, “Does that look voluntary?”

“That would be a negative,” JJ mutters, Kiara already beginning to open the passenger door,

“Come on,”

“Whoa hold on hold on,” JJ immediately reaches to grab her arm, “They’re going into the alley,”

“Go around back,” You order, JJ throwing the truck into drive before he begins to round the house, your head shaking as you lean forward, searching the front and back window, “I don’t see them,”

“There!” Kies sudden shrieks leads JJ to slam on the breaks, his arm instantly sticking in front of you when you lurch forward, your hand grasping his forearm as you watch Pope climb in, yelling for JJ to get a move on.

It only takes three road turns before the hood of the truck begins to smoke a second time, JJ slamming a hand down onto the wheel when the truck stutters to a stop, looking at Pope next to Kie in a panic, “Now what?”

“Go around!” As everyone climbed out the truck, JJs arm slide around your back to push you forward, immediately beginning to sprint down the road behind Kie and Pope.

“Does he have a gun?” You gasp, JJ tugging on your wrist to pull you down an alley, Pope skidding in an attempt to follow, before you rush out onto the street, nearing getting hit by two people on a motor bike,

“Sorry-!” Your hand raising on reflex automatically halts upon getting a look at the rider, eyes widening as John B grins, very much alive and well in front of you, “John B?”

“Get in!” John B alarms, JJ pushing you into the back seat of the motorbike as John B began to pedal, and soon enough you find yourself on the beach, pushing a boat into the water and finally getting a gasp of air,

. . .

“He’s taken care of you while I’ve been gone, right?”

John Bs words are quiet. Your eyes move away from the warm fire in front of you, shifting your gaze over to your brother who sat next to you, beer bottle in hand.

“Just like he promised,” You hum, nodding with a small smile, “It’s really good to have you back, JB. Therapy’s been shit-,”

“Wait, you’re taking therapy?” John B questions, quietly, eyebrows pinched as his head ducks, “How’re you paying for it?”

“The school offered it after you went missing,” You explain, “Hence why it’s shit. And they’re still trying to put me in the system-,”

“I thought Kies mom would’ve let you,”

“Will you stop interrupting me?” You narrow your eyes, John B raising his hand in surrender, “We tried. But the system isn’t budging. Plus with Kie getting in trouble for hanging out with pogues, I doubt I would’ve gotten far with it,”

“Well I’m here now,” John B drops a hand onto your shoulder, shaking it, lightly, “And we’re not going anywhere,”

Your smile drops almost as soon as it comes. John B is standing on high alert, your brows pinched in confusion as you sit up in your seat, “What is it, John?”

“I heard a car door,”

You pause, eyes skimming the dark yard as JJ made his way next to your chair, “You’re probably just paranoid, JB,”

Silence, before John B is suddenly grabbing your arm, tugging you onto your feet before pushing you towards JJ, “Hide. Now,”

It’s a solid five minutes before you see him. Rafe, Barry close behind. You sit on a tree branch feet above where you once stood, hugging the large trunk for support while feeling JJs hands at your hips, keeping both you and him steady.

“Anything?” Rafes voice startles you, body jerking slightly so JJs grip tightened, leaning forward to press his chest to your back,

“Nah, there ain’t shit in there, bro,” Barry’s grumble is audible as he stomps out of the Chateau, “Nothing,”

“They were obviously just here based off the smoke,” Rafe points to the abandoned fire pit, Barry scoffing out an irritated chuckle,

“Great observation, Boy Scout,”

“They gotta be around here somewhere,” Rafes head shakes, his body turning to face the tree you sat perched on, eyes landing on the engraved memorial on the tree for John B,

“P4L,” Barry snickers, Rafes jaw clenching as he nods, “Yo sisters a pogue for life now, huh, Rafe?”

“Shit!!” Rafes shout is loud, Barry even stepping back once as Rafe raises the gun in his hand, shooting once, twice, at the tree, before Barry rushes forward, grabbing at Rafes arm.

The movement jerks the gun upwards as it continues to shoot, JJs arm jolting out in front of your face as his other fully wraps around your front, nearly shielding you as your hands fly to your head,

“Rafe, chill!” Barry demands, “You’re gonna get our asses busted, man! Let’s bounce. Let’s go!”

The two take off in a sprint. JJ raises his head from your shoulder, eyes immediately gazing down at where your breaths heaved, hand clutching at your thigh- that stained red,

“Holy shit,” JJs hand tugs your arm up, leaning back to fully look at the grazed bullet mark on your thigh, “Holy fuck, John B, she got hit,”

“What?” John B forces himself to climb a branch over to you, your gasp wheezed in a panic as JJs arm tugs you to face him, hand pressing down hard on your thigh,

“She got fucking shot, dude!” JJ lifts his hand momentarily from the wound to lift you off the branch, your arm immediately coming around his shoulders for support as he leapt off the branch, catching you from impact, “I need towels, and water- where the fuck is Kie when we need her?!”

JJ lowers you to sit against the tree, John B rushing inside the Chateau as Sarah stares in a panic, JJs hands raising to your face so one cheek was stained with blood,

“Baby, you’re okay,” He sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself more than you, but the quickness of your breathing worries him to the point of you passing out, “The bullet just grazed you, you’re okay,”

Your head knocks back against the tree with a pinch of your eyes, JJ looking over his shoulder as John B shoves a towel in his face, followed by a roll of tape and bandages while a water bottle remains clutched in his free hand,

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” JJs mutter leads your eyes to open, instantly shutting again at the sheer pain of JJ tightening the bandage around your thigh,

Your hiss is loud, hand grabbing at JJs shoulder so he looks up, eyes softening at your pinched brows and glossy eyes,

“There’s blood, everywhere,” Despite the wound being patched, you still seem in shock, eyes wide on the blood staining your hands and his, which now stained his tank top,

“Let’s get a shower, baby,” JJs arm slides to your back, heaving you up on your feet so your own hand grips the fabric of said tank top, “You’re good, you’re good,”

“Holy shit,” John Bs hand raises to his hair, eyes flicking to Sarah when she squeezes his free arm, assuringly. His eyes flick down to her own bullet wound, heaving a breath, “Fuck,”

The next morning, Kie and Pope park the boat at the dock, Kiaras brows pinched as the group of four rushed down the dock, JJs arm supporting your limped form,

“What’s going on?” Pope stands from his spot, eyes zooming in on your leg, “What the fuck happened?”

“Rafe knows they’re back,” JJ hisses, “Went fucking nuts and shot a gun. Hit Y/N,”

“It just grazed, she’ll be okay,” Sarah reminds, as JJ steps into the boat, first, arms reaching out to you to help you step in,

“We’ve gotta go, there’s no telling when he’ll be back,” John B rushes, Kiara nodding before moving back to the boats wheel.

. . .

“Look, if Rafe and Barry know, it’s only a matter of time,”

You settle yourself on a rock perched, eyes watching as Kie, Sarah and Pope took seats, while JJ and John B continued to stand.

“I told you,” JJ scoffs, “We should’ve gone south, man,” JJ jabs a finger towards John B, “Why does no one ever listen?”

“I get it! I get it, I understand,” John B tries, JJ shaking his head as he spins, gesturing a hand out to you,

“Obviously not! Not only did you let Rafe shoot Sarah, but he shot your sister! You better be fucking glad that bullet grazed her!”

“J,” You murmur, raising your own hand so he heaves a sigh, taking your hand while standing beside you, refusing to sit,

“I know my dad,” Sarah speaks up, “He’s going to have to choose between me and Rafe, he’ll choose me. I just need two hours,”

JJ raises his arm and let’s it drop to his side as Sarah moves towards the boat, your eyes watching, silently, as she leaves without another word.

“J, sit down,” You murmur, tugging at his fingers, so he finally sunk down next to you, head fallen forward with a deep sigh.

. . .

“So, how’d it go?”

As John B helped Sarah off the boat, JJ peeled the old bandaged from your thigh. Your small hiss leads him to whisper an apology, taking the roll of fresh bandages from Kie to unravel,

“You were right,” Sarah sighs, glancing over her shoulder where JJ tucked the bandages over one another, before rolling down your shorts, taking your hands to stand you up, “It didn’t work,”

“Welp, then that settles it, guys,” JJ snips, looking over his own shoulder to narrow his eyes at her, “Now y’all need to load up in the paddy wagon and get the heck out of Dodge right now,”

“Yeah, you’ll need the supplies,” Pope nods, “Then y’all will need to split as soon as possible,”

“Guys I think it’s too late,” Kie speaks, your eyes shifting to the side of the water, squinting at three police boats,

“They followed you here?”

“We gotta go,” JJ rushes, throwing your arm over his shoulders while his own loops at your waist, beginning to pull you after John B, who did the same with Sarah, “Go!”

“Oh my gosh,” You heave, looking over your shoulder in a panic, “We won’t get far- with two injured people-,”

“I’ve got you,” JJ breathes, following your eyesight to a man trailing behind with a gun, “We’re good,”

The group ducks behind a large tree, your body turning to press your back to it, eyes staring at two cop cars skidding to a stop in the sand, “Guys,”

“What do we do?”

“We’re not getting out of this,” JJ heaves, your eyes watching him pull something- his gun- from his pocket, “We gotta make a stand,”

“J, no,” Your hand grasps his shirt, fisting it, “No, that’s not the answer,”

John B rushes to grab JJs wrist, grasping the gun with his free to toss it at your feet, head shaking, “Listen to her,”

JJ looks at you, watching your foot shuffle to throw dirt over the gun, covering it, JJ side stepping halfway in front of you as Shoupe and several officers rushed forward, all heading for John B.

“No no no- stop!”

. . .

“They’re gonna kill him in there,” You tug your cardigan over your front, sighing. Your eyes glance across the outside of the courthouse, sighing as JJs fingers grasped your upper arm, keeping you next to him.

“I’m sorry about what happened to you and your family,” You hear a man, glancing over to see him speaking with Ward, “Thank God for the system,”

“Can you shut the fuck up?” You spit without thinking, JJs fingers tightening in warning as the two men looked over, “Of course you think the system worked because it was made to protect people like you,”

“He’ll have his day in court, a jury will decide,”

“He shouldn’t even be in court!” You pull your arm free, pointing to Ward, “You should, because you’re a murderer!”

“I know you’re upset,” Ward speaks, your eyebrows flicking up, “I know he’s got you all fooled, about this, about your father,”

“You know what really happened to my father, because you were there!” You step forward, JJ instantly sliding in front of you to grasp your arms, Shoupe behind you,

“No, no, get the fuck off her,” JJ jabs a finger to Shoupe, “Why don’t you go arrest a Kook for a change, huh?”

“You wanna get arrested? Get out! You need to go,”

“You’re a piece of shit Ward,” You hiss, “No wonder your daughters with us,”

“Okay, baby, you gotta stop,” JJ grasps your shoulders, spinning you around so Kie took your hand, “Let’s go,”

. . .

“I’m gonna testify under oath,”

Your eyes can barely stay open at this point. Curled on the couch on the patio, your halflidded eyes watch Sarah pace, “I was there! I just need to get in contact with my sister,”

“Sister?” JJ grumbles, your shrug light as his fingers trail across your bare legs.

“Wheeze was the only one who knows Rafe wasn’t home that day!”

“Wheeze?” JJ questions,

“I don’t know what else to do!” Sarah panics, “I got us into this mess, I have to get us out!”

“She’s right about one thing, we have to think of something,” JJ sits up, hand now grasping your calf,

“And do what? Kidnap Shoupe?”

“That’s not actually the worst idea, Kie,”

“It’s not?” “No!”

“That’s actually the worst idea ever,” Pope cuts, JJ jabbing a finger towards him,

“Okay, Pope, we’ve been doing everything your way, and how has that been going?”

“Okay so what’s your plan?” Pope stands, now nearly hovering over both you and JJ, “You’re gonna storm a jail, guns-a-blazing?”

“All I’m saying is that they have our boy,” JJ stands up, you sitting up to grab his wrist, warning him, “And we’re just gonna sit on our asses? No, we’re gonna do something about it!”

“We are not storming a jail. That’s not happening,”

“That’s fine man,” JJ mutters, “Sit in your comfy chair. Do nothing. I’m gonna see what I can do. Make something happen, even if I have to do it myself,”

“JJ,” You stand up, hand still ahold of his wrist, “Come with me,”

JJ fixes his hat onto his head, jaw rolling as he fixes your grasp to take his fingers, letting you pull him into the rain outside the patio. He allows you to drag him to the hammocks, your hand running through your now wet hair as you look up at him,

“JJ, we can’t do this again,”

“I’m trying to save him, Y/N,” JJs brows pinch, hair sticking to his forehead as he looks down at you, “Do you not want that?”

“Of course I do, but not in a wreckless way!” You speak loudly over the rain, hands now grasping his shirt at his sides, “I need you to think this through. Last time something like this happened, we got in a fight and nearly broke up. I’m not watching you do something like this again, okay?”

His head tilts back to look up, wet hair falling back as his chest heaves in a deep sigh. Your hands raise to his jaw, tilting his head down to you, eyes instantly closing when your lips press to his, his own hands pressing to your face.

“Are you calm?” You barely pull back, him instantly pulling you back against him, his grasp lightening as he leans back, eyes flicking between yours.

“I’m going to think of something,” You blink, JJ pressing a kiss to your wet forehead before releasing you, stepping towards his dirt bike.

“I love you,” You call, waiting for him to look at you, “I really do,”

“I love you too,” He breathes, fixing his hat, “Stay safe,”

. . .

“That’s a lot of wax on your board. Put too much wax, it’s gonna be slippery,”

“Are you telling me how to wax my board?”

“I’m just saying,” Pope raises his hands as JJ raises an eyebrow, “That’s a lot of wax,”

“Guys, chill out, please,” You heave, JJ looking at you upon a distanced honk,

“You hear that?”

You look over, sitting up straight in your chair to see the Twinkie driving up, your smile wide as you push to stand to your feet, “Nuh-uh,”

“Yuh-huh!” Your brother grins as he slams the door to the van, running up to embrace you, “Guess whose out of the clink boy!”

“Uh, they dropped the charges,” John B sheepishly grins, JJ raising his brows,

“So all that work, I did for nothing,”

“Oh, the most elaborate escape plan of all time?” Pope jokes, John B looking around in confusion,

“Wait, where’s Sarah?” At everyone’s pause, he looks at you, “Where is Sarah?”

“She went to see Wheezie last night,” Kie speaks, “She hasn’t come back,”

. . .

“So,”

You lift your head from the hammock you laid on, JJ stretched out beside you, opposite end, hand messing with the anklet on your foot, “He’s out, huh?”

“Yeah, he is,” You breathe, foot jerking when JJ tickles the bottom, your giggle light so he smiles,

“There she is,” He murmurs, grasping your ankle to tug on it, “C’mere,”

You sit up, shifting to turn around without rocking the hammock too much to knock you off, laying tucked against JJs side as his arm hooks around your shoulders.

“What’re you thinkin’ ‘bout, pretty girl?” JJs lips press to your forehead, resting there when you exhale through your nose,

“How we can’t seem to catch a break,” You murmur, hand twisting his t-shirt mindlessly, “Ever since Dad went missing, we’ve just been running. And now that Limberys involved it doesn’t seem to be getting any better,”

“We’re gonna get a break soon,” JJ speaks, tilting his head to rest overtop of yours, “And I mean hey, when’s the last time we sat in this hammock, hm?”

“Yeah, I have missed this,” You slide your arm across his chest, before he twists, facing you. Your hand reaches up to comb his blonde hair from his face, the back of your hand brushing across his cheek. “I love you, JJ,”

JJ hums, head leaning forward to kiss your lips, hand reaching for the back of your head, “I love you, too, baby,” A peck, then two, and you giggle as he continues, moving to kiss your cheek, “So so so much,”

“J!” You cackle, JJ rolling to hover above you, the hammock rocking against his movements, “J, we are gonna fall if you don’t quit,”

“You’re just too irresistible, baby,” JJ leans down, your hands cupping his neck to hold him still, “Can’t get enough of you,”

You allow his teeth to dig into your bottom lip, hand sliding up your flowy shirt to graze your rib cage, inching to your chest,

“Guys!” Kies shout startles you to lean back, looking over in alarm as JJ sits up with his hands at your hips, “We gotta go, Wards at the dock.”

#jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank one shot #outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks one shot #outer banks imagine #Rocky road

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