nicksalchemy1 - Tumblr blog

nicksalchemy1 · 30 days

Text

Mientras Respiro, Espero - Part 1

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

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

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

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

🚒 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2,167

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn't look back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was for you to figure out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, meeting her smile with the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TO BE CONTINUED…

And there’s that! Next time. 😉

Character Introduction For This Series

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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

42 notes · View notes

nicksalchemy1 · 30 days

Text

Mientras Respiro, Espero Series Masterlist

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

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

THIS IS MY FIRST AU! Nine SPN characters will make their appearances: Sam, Mary, and John Winchester, Castiel as "Cas Novak," Cassie Robinson, Benny Lafitte, Bobby Singer, Rufus Turner, Charlie Bradbury, and more!

Series Tags/Warnings: (**15+ only!) There will be a lot of heart, a lot of fun, tense situations, emotional baggage, a slow-burn romance, drama, heartbreak, protective Dean, and playing house. Rating for language, VERY sensitive topics, perilous situations, and other chapter-specific tags.

A/N: Hello, lovelies!! I hope all of you enjoy reading this, it’s a cute little series and it hits a little close to home. Please take into consideration that this is my first ever series and won’t be perfect. Inspiration credits to @zepskies series “Smoke Eater.” 🚒🧯😊

To get to know the characters and have some context, here’s the introduction.

Part 1: Who’s Aftaid of Little Old Me?

Part 2: There She Goes (Again)

Part 3: I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

Part 4: I Know It’s Over

Part 5: It’s Never Over

Part 6: I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Part 7: Try And Love Again

Part 8: If You Could Read My Mind

Part 9: Just Like A Woman

Part 10: Paper Rings

31 notes · View notes

nicksalchemy1 · 1 month

Text

Stories are Dean Winchester x Reader unless otherwise stated.

Bleed To Love Her Summary: Hunting with Dean after Sam had been thrown in the cage with Lucifer and Micheal was doozy. Coming across a case that brings up a hunt that still haunts you; the one that caused your father’s death, you revisit it with Dean. But certain emotions also get in the way.

COMING SOON…

Firefighter AU: Mientras Respiro, Espero

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

9 notes · View notes

nicksalchemy1 · 1 month

Text

( All stories are Beau Arlen x Reader unless otherwise stated )

SOON..

3 notes · View notes

nicksalchemy1 · 1 month

Text

Thanks for visiting the universe of a mind I have!! All my works and fandom I write for are listed below.

Here are the fandoms I currently write for:

Supernatural

Big Sky

Supernatural Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

18 notes · View notes

nicksalchemy1 · 1 month

Text

THE ROAD SO FAR..

DEAN WINCHESTER 🍔 ✧₊˚ʚ

SAM WINCHESTER 📖✎ᝰ.

9 notes · View notes

nicksalchemy1 · 1 month

Text

So you want to write about the 1967 Impala in Supernatural

Some notes on the Impala for writers:

1. The Impala an automatic transmission. PRNDL is on the steering wheel. No stick/manual shift, sorry! Also no power steering.

2. The engine mentioned in the show (when Dean travels back in time) is a 327 small block (known as the “Mighty Mouse”) which was one of the factory standard engines for a 1967 Impala. Hero 1 (the car used for beauty shots) has a 502 big block. These are both V8 engines. V8 engines, for those who haven’t driven one, are very loud and like to go. The car will start moving forward when you remove your foot from the brake. It’s a little intimidating but fun af. I usually write Dean as upgrading to the 502 in season 2 when he rebuilds the Impala, but as they use a variety of cars (and I think all but Hero have 350s, anyway) for different shots, you could ignore the 502, swap the 327 out at another point in the series, or even say Dean dropped in a 350 for a while. All could be “canon” to either show-used cars or the show’s script.

[Update: Jensen confirmed at DallasCon22 that the engine sound used in the show PRIOR TO THE 502 (so during the 327 era) was from another car, but the sound used after the installation of the 502 big block is, in fact, the actual sound of the car]

3. The Impala has factory air (meaning it came standard with the car from the factory and was not added later). It’s obviously not as good as contemporary a/c but there’s no reason to assume John (a mechanic) and then Dean wouldn’t keep it functioning. Two circular vents on the dash, one narrow one over the radio. Hero has factory air; some of the other cars used in shooting have fake air vents to match with Hero.

4. The gas cap is under the license plate. You functionally refuel through the butthole. If you’re used to driving more contemporary vehicles, it’s probably going to make you giggle a little bit the first time you have to gas up. I apologized to my car (a ‘68) the first time.

5. The seats are vinyl, not leather. Easier to clean, lucky for them! The Impala is the midgrade car, w/ the Caprice as the luxury, the Belaire as the lower end personal use car, and Biscayne as the economy (used for fleet cars like taxis and police cars). This means same body, wildly variable amenities: different door panels, seat material (fabric or vinyl, but never leather as standard), trim, etc. Several of the “Impalas” used in filming are rebuilt Caprices, as are many fan-built tribute cars!

6. Baby is a four-door hardtop (aka “non post” or “no post” car) vs the sedan (“post car”). The biggest difference is when you roll down the front and back seat windows in a hardtop, you have two unbroken open spaces, one on each side, and in the sedan, you have a divider between front and back windows. Hardtop only has trim on the window edges, with no post. Roll the windows down, and nothing remains.

The sedan has trim on the “post” breaking the window spaces into four separate windows. Roll the windows down, the trim is still visible. YOu can see how the window trim is thicker all the way around.

7. The Impalas used on the show have two different types of interior door locks, the ones that look like a big chrome nail and the anti-theft lock with no cap. Both are canon, so you can have someone break in with a coat hanger or not if you’d prefer. Hero has the nail-style locks.

8. The exterior paint color used on the Impala is called Tuxedo Black. It’s still available from classic car shops, so yes, Dean is very well using Tuxedo Black when he rebuilds the car in seaosn 2.

9. Those cool corner lights are unique to the ‘67.

10. The back seats have almost no space under them. The bench rests directly on the rise from the floorpan. If something goes missing, it’s under the front seats, not the back ones!

11. The trunk is huge. Like “hold 6+ people” huge. The weapon box is a separate piece built and installed into the trunk, giving the apperance of a small space, but trust me. Huge.

12. Speaking of huge, the Impala is over 17 feet long and 8 feet wide. Are you very, very good at parallel parking? I am not. Is Dean very, very good at parallel parking? Possibly, but he’d probably look for a parking spot he could drive or back straight into.

13. This is the dashboard of the Impala. The vinyl covered, padded bit is the dashpad. Remember, this car doesn’t have airbags. Better to whack your head on padding than nothing. The guages and such are all part of the instrument cluster. Two two round things and one long thin thing are the factory ac vents.

14. Does the Impala have seat belts? Yes! In 1967, lap-only seat belts were standard in Impalas. Dean and Sam may very well be using seat belts that buckle across their laps. One hopes. [UPDATE: Jensen confirmed at DallasCon22 that the Impala does have lap belts, but that he and Jared never wore them during the 15 years of filming].

They look like this. Standard model is NOT retractable.

So, uh, that’s my “I hyperfixate on the Impala and also I own a 1968 Impala four-door hardtop so I’ve had plenty of chances to futz around with this stuff myself” guide to writing about the Impala. Hopefully it helps you get some details right. I’m NOT a car expect, but I know THIS car (and my own car) pretty well. If you have any other questions about the Impala, shoot them my way!

ETA: I am a wincestie. A lot of y’all have my friends on your dramatic public callout block list. Please be aware that you are reblogging this from a wincestie and you are now wincest-adjacent.

ETA2: I am happy to answer any Impala questions to the best of my ability and to help you find the answers I don’t know off the top of my head. Feel free to send me an ask or a DM.

5K notes · View notes

nicksalchemy1 · 2 months

Text

Bleed To Love Her

Paring: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Hunting with Dean after Sam had been thrown in the cage with Lucifer and Micheal was doozy. Coming across a hunt that brings up a hunt that still haunts you; the one that caused your father’s death, you revisit the case with Dean.

You had been hunting with Dean for a few months now, ever since Sam was trapped in the cage with Lucifer and Michael. You were childhood friends, and you had a crush on him for as long as you could remember. But you never acted on it, because you knew was a womanizer. And then there was Lisa, the woman he had tried to settle down with during his year off from hunting. You knew he still loved her, even though he left her for your sake.

You were on a case in Colorado, tracking down a shapeshifter that had been killing people and taking their identities. You had a bad feeling about this one, because it reminded you of something that happened to you when you were a kid. Something you never told Dean, or anyone else.

"So, I found this case." you interject as he drove the Impala along the highway.

"What's the word on the street?" he said, glancing at you.

"Yeah, this, uh, case is different."

He frowned, and waited patiently till you spoke up.

"Okay? C’mon, spit it out."

You took a deep breath, and began to spill.

"When I was ten years old, my dad and I were hunting a shapeshifter. It was our first time dealing with one. We tracked it down to an abandoned warehouse, where it had a bunch of victims locked up in cages. We tried to free them, but the shifter ambushed us. It knocked me out, and dragged me to another room. When I woke up, I saw it standing over me. It had taken my dad's form. It smiled at me, and said 'I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I have to do this.' And then it stabbed him in the chest, right in front of me. I screamed, and it laughed. It said 'Don't worry, I'll make it quick for you too.' It raised the knife again, but I kicked it in the groin, and ran for the door. I managed to escape, but I never saw my dad again. He was dead, and I couldn't save him."

You paused, taking a shaky breath, feeling the old fear mingling with fresh determination.

"I think it's back, Dean. The monster we're hunting now, I see the patterns, the signs. It's him. It's the same one."

For a long moment, Dean didn't speak. Then, with a nod that was all business, he said, "Then this just got personal for both of us."

The plan was simple yet risky: you would act as bait to draw the creature out. Dean hated it, you could tell by the way his brow furrowed and his lips formed a thin line, but he knew as well as you did that it was the best shot you had.

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid," Dean said as you wired yourself with hidden blades and a concealed microphone.

"I'm not the one who usually breaks that promise," you quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

He didn't smile.

The night was cold and unforgiving as you took your position in the abandoned warehouse where the creature had last been seen. The wait was excruciating, every shadow a potential threat, every sound a possible approach.

Then, it was there. The monster, a grotesque figure from nightmares past, stepped from the shadows. Your heart hammered in your chest, but you held your ground.

The creature lunged, and you fought with everything you had learned since that fateful night. It was stronger than you remembered, but so were you. Just as it seemed to gain the upper hand, you plunged a blade into its heart, sending it back to the hell it came from.

But victory came at a cost. You were injured, worse than you realized, and as Dean rushed to your side, his face a mask of fury and fear, you knew you were in for it.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Dean's voice was a low growl as he checked your wounds.

"I had to end it, Dean," you said, wincing in pain.

"That was reckless, and you could've—” He stopped abruptly, his eyes going wide with a realization. "Dammit, Lisa, I—"

The name hung between you, a ghost from his past that had no place in your present.

You injuries suddenly became meaningless. What remained was the pain of knowing that, in some part of his mind, you were replaceable.

All of your fears were confirmed. Were you ever truly seen, or were you just a placeholder, a shape to fill a void that Lisa had left open? Did your name ever rest as comfortably on his tongue as hers evidently still did?

"Dean," you started, a coldness settling in your chest. "My name is not Lisa."

The silence that followed was deafening. His eyes, now filled with regret, said everything his voice couldn’t seem to find the words for.

"I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"You think I can't handle myself? That I'm not strong enough?" Your voice rose, a mix of hurt and anger making your words sharp.

"That's not it," Dean said quickly, shaking his head. "It was a slip up, a mistake—“

“Saying her name or the fact that I believed that you liked me?” You accused, a bitter smile on your face.

The tension between you and Dean was palpable as you both returned to the motel room, the weight of his slip of the tongue hanging heavy in the air. You kept your distance, tending to your wounds in silence while Dean hovered awkwardly, unsure of what to say or do.

"You should get some rest," Dean finally said, after a long stretch of quiet that felt like an eternity.

"I'll rest when I'm dead," you replied sharply, avoiding his gaze. You could see out of the corner of your eye that he flinched at your tone, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

He sighed, running a hand down his face. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I messed up. I didn't mean to call you Lisa, it just... came out."

You scoffed, focusing on the sting of antiseptic on your skin rather than the sting of betrayal in your heart. "Sure, Dean. People always say the wrong name by accident when they're with someone else. Especially the name of someone they love."

Dean's face tightened, a mix of anger and hurt flashing in his eyes. "That's not fair," he said, his voice low.

"Fair?" you echoed, finally looking at him, letting him see the hurt in your eyes. "What about this is fair, Dean? I'm out here, risking my neck, hunting things that go bump in the night with you, making an effort for you, and you still see her when you look at me."

Dean took a step forward, as if to reach out to you, but then thought better of it. "I don't—"

"Don't," you interrupted, holding up a hand to stop him. "Just don't. We have work to do, and I can put aside my feelings to get it done. Can you?"

He nodded, though the gesture felt empty. "Fine."

#dean winchester x reader #spotify #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #supernatural #sam winchester #fleetwood mac #stevie nicks

90 notes · View notes