#also everyone that gets newly tagged on here sorry i take forever to update this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gondowan · 3 years

Text

Over Your Shoulder

Pairing: Paz Viszla x f!Reader

You're used to working for others. As a freelance armstech, you flit from contract to contract, never staying too long in one place. Although the freelancer life is fun, you kind of wish you could trade it all for a little bit of stability. As the maker would have it, that stability shows up in the form of one (1) Paz Viszla.

Tags/Warnings: nothing right now, but future loving degradation, Good Communication Is My Kink, daddy kink, and other sexy consensual shenangians. Reader has slight self esteem issues.

Notes: I haven’t written for fun in forever, but new year new me! If you know me in real life never bring this up because I will combust lol. I was going to fire off a brief smutty one-shot pwp thing but of course I couldn’t resist adding ~ b a c k s t o r y ~ so here you go. Subsequent updates will probably just be pwp.

Chapter 1: All The Grass is Greener Everywhere You Look

Nervousness, you assumed, was a regular feeling for anyone who was newly married. Doubly so for the new spouse of a Mandalorian. Unlike the rest of the galaxy where marriage vows were somewhat loose, Mandalorians took their vows very seriously. Forever, generally meant, forever.

Your relationship with Paz Viszla was strange in and of itself. As a freelance armstech, you hopped from planet to planet offering your repair services, never staying in any one place for too long. While on Bothawui, you had let slip to a client that you were headed to Nevarro next. Greef Karga, the head of the Guild, had put you on a retainer for services to guild members for a few cycles. The pay was good, and he had promised you a steady supply of commissions from the local bounty hunters who frequented Nevarro in need of new weapons and repairs on top of the already nice stipend.

The Bothan, a short humanoid by the name of Eesk, perked up when you mentioned Nevarro, and the next day he came over as you were on your way to the spaceport.

“Can I ask a favor? Do you mind making a delivery for me while on Nevarro?” he asked, pulling a datapad out from his robes.

You looked up, eyes narrowing. Bothans were famous for their information network, and were instrumental to the destruction of the first Death Star, but still, you were understandably nervous. “ Eesk, I’m not interested in looking for trouble. I don’t need the New Republic or any Imp remnant breathing down my neck for delivering that for you,” you said.

Eesk laughed, “Relax, I promise you this isn’t serious. Just deliver this to a Mandalorian on Nevarro. It’s nothing classified, I’m just returning a favor for a friend,”. He slid over a stack of credits. “I’d take it to him myself, but unfortunately I’m held up on New Republic business”.

You reached over and tucked the datapad into your bag along with the credits, “Fine, but you owe me”.

“Next time you’re here, drinks on me.” he said as he walked away.

It was only until you had boarded the transport ship that you realized Eesk had never actually told you were to meet this Mandalorian. ‘Oh well,’ you thought, ‘he’s not getting these credits back’. You leaned your head against the wall of the ship, tired from hauling all of your luggage to the spaceport, and fell asleep.

You were three standard weeks into your contract with Greef Karga and the Guild, and still no Mandalorian had shown up to collect the datapad. It was nice to be somewhat settled in one place for longer than a week, and you had enjoyed the steady stream of work. You had also learned from Karga that the Mandalorian covert scattered from Nevarro, and he hadn’t seen one in a while. For all of their information trafficking and spy network, perhaps Eesk had gotten it wrong for once, and you didn’t really care to ask. After all, it would be nigh impossible to miss a person wearing head to toe armor, especially on Nevarro.

One morning, as you had returned from your walk to the lava plains, you discovered the door to your apartment was unlocked. Strange. Not a good sign. None of your alarms were triggered either. Carefully, you pulled your blaster out its holster before quietly pushing the door open.

“There you are. Been looking all over for you.”

A large man, clad in blue armor and covered in more weapons per square inch that any other being you had ever seen, sat next to your workstation. Despite the blaster pointed at him, he seemed unperturbed, posture open and relaxed.

“What do you want?” you asked, blaster raised, "You picked the wrong house to rob,". You had fended off your fair share of robberies, the expensive equipment you lugged around as an armstech was attractive to petty thieves, and not cheap.

“The datapad.” he said.

“I take it you’re the Mandalorian that Eesk spoke about.”

“Correct,”.

You rummage through your toolkit and dust off the datapad. “Here you go Mr. Mandalorian, although I suggest next time you knock during business hours. Breaking and entering is reserved for long term partners, and you haven’t even bought me a drink yet”. You wince a little inwardly, maybe this dry spell was affecting you more than you thought.

You tap the edge of the datapad on the Mandalorian’s chest plate. “Oh and you might want to get the blaster strapped to your thigh checked, those scorch marks are usually a bad sign,”.

The blue hunk of armor stood up and took the datapad from you. “Thank you for this,” he rumbled before heading out the door.

“Ah, so you do have manners,” you teased before moving to shut the door.

You can’t see the expression on his face, but you hear the huff of a laugh through his modulator accompanied with a shake of his shoulders.

You were pretty sure you’d never see him again.

Wrong.

The next day right as you returned from dropping off a box of repaired pistols, there he was again, blue armor and blank expressionless helmet, sitting in the same spot next to your workstation.

“Can you fix it?” he asked.

You gaped at him for a second, before remembering the comment you made yesterday. “I can take a look,”. You cross over to your workstation, turning on the light and the magnifying glass and grabbing your toolkit. It was an easy but time-consuming fix, and you quickly busied yourself with disassembling the rifle.

“You’re not from Nevarro,”. A question, posed as a statement.

You didn’t look up, “Nope, I’m just passing through.” Hmm, that power cell did not look too good.

“Where is home for you?”

“Nowhere,” you said matter-of-factly as you tinkered away, “Like most people, the Clone Wars and the Empire destroyed what little of a childhood I had. Got taken in by a kind armstech who taught me the trade, and now I hop from planet to planet making a living. What about you? I heard about what happened to the Mandalorians on this planet,”.

“Also nowhere,” the man grunted, and he remained quiet. You finished your work, and handed him the blaster, butt end first.

“You owe me two drinks now, breaking into my place like that.”

He took the blaster from you, two gloved finger tips drawing a line from the middle of your forearm down your wrist. An unnecessary movement, he could’ve just taken the blaster. You gulped. He put the gun back in its holster and leaned forward.

“I might, if you ask nicely. I saw the way you sized me up the first time,”.

You swallowed, mouth going dry. “It’s uh, part of my line of work. Gotta make sure everyone’s packing-- I mean, everyone’s weapons are in tip top shape.” Your stupid lizard brain, at it again.

He cocked his head to the side, “I’m sure it is,” the mirth evident in his tone.

Every evening thereafter, the blue Mandalorian showed up at your doorstep, a new weapon in hand for you to look at. It was nice, you had to admit to yourself. A consistency in your otherwise inconsistent life, and you grew to enjoy his company. What you couldn’t handle however, was the escalating tension between the two of you. He would occasionally stand behind you, his big, all-encompassing frame brushing up against your back, and lean over you to ask about this or that. The first time you thought it was an accident, but then he followed up with an oh-so-casual touch of your wrist, and you were pretty sure it was on purpose, but you also couldn’t tell if that was wishful thinking on your part. Occasionally the two of you would strike up a conversation, but for the most part he sat in a comfortable silence while you worked. When he came over the fourth night, large gattling gun in tow, you decided it was high time to try to get to know him better.

“Uh...would you like to stay for dinner?”, eyes looking down on the (ancient) gattling gun, trying to keep your voice light.

He paused and shook his head “I can’t,”.

Oh, an immediate shut down. Great. Well it was worth a shot.

“Not for the reason you think. I can’t remove my helmet in the presence of others, that’s part of the creed,”.

That made a lot of sense. You hadn’t come across many Mandalorians in your travels, but all of them were rather cagey about their armor and helmet. You had assumed it was due to the value of beskar, but this was the first time you had heard about this creed.

You looked up at him. “Don’t you ever get lonely?” you blurted out, the words forming on your tongue before your brain could shut you down. “Nevermind-- I’m sorry I-”

He interjected, “Sometimes. There are some exceptions though,”.

You leaned forward. “Such as?”.

A pause. He stepped forward, tipping your chin up with a finger.

“ Would you care to find out?”

Ch 2 here

#paz viszla #paz vizla x reader #paz viszla x reader #2021 new year new me #and by new year new me i mean i will write the kinky caretaking fic i want #the mandalorian #mono writes #THE LAST TIME I WROTE IT WAS FOR MASS EFFECT LMAO #this is way too much buildup #but whatever!!!!!#over your shoulder fic

86 notes · View notes

waywardbeanie · 4 years

Text

A Man of Letters - Chapter Thirteen

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough? Word Count: 7889

Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings) a little meta Chapter Warning: SPOILER if you have not seen Season 14, humor (Is that really a warning?) and a little bit of sweet.(Always), angst.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read this series so far, I have loved writing it and watching the characters grow. I appreciate EVERY ONE OF YOU who are taking this journey with me. We are a little less than half way there so BUCKLE UP!

Thank you to my beta @winchest09 and my mind melder, idea bouncer and my cheerleader @whatareyousearchingfordean I would be lost without you both!

MASTERLIST A Man of Letters

If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE: **Make sure you check out the playlist, it is updated every chapter and an essential part of the story**

Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters

Catch up here >>>>>>> A Man of Letters Masterlist

This series is ongoing!

No Gif’s are mine

Dean "I Build Shit" Winchester

PO Box 323

Sioux Falls, SD 57101

Dear Dean,

I decided to go up to the cabin, but don’t worry about sending letters here. I will be back at the bungalow before you mail the next one. I know this job is necessary; we talked about it for a while before you left; I think all of us are just at the end of our rope with how long it is stretching on forever. How did the raids go? I hope that they are turning up something to get this thing moving in the right direction. I’m so glad we redid the inside of the cabin, now that it is entirely different just how we want it, it doesn’t drag up all of my parents' sad memories, only the good ones. Do you remember that we had our first fight here? I think I can count on one hand the number of actual arguments we have had, looking back it seems so silly now, kind of, but I was so angry and hurt, understandably so. Sam and I were definitely on the same team at that time. The snow is beautiful at the cabin right now; you can see about two dozen ice fishermen from the dock. Jody calls about once a week; we chat, and I know she is checking on me; I’m also sure you know she does. One of the other reasons I came up here is to get away from all of the nosy people. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think they are great, but one more question from the older people about if I ‘stopped seeing that nice boy’ or the interrogations from the women who are digging for information, I was going to freak out, so off to the cabin I went. I miss Donna too, but I’m glad you have her there. I’m sure she shared the story when she, Jody and I got drunk when they came down to check on me at the cabin during the spring, when everything was a mess. It was rough at the time, but it was a good weekend with them.

Ugh, these sad-sack letters are killing me. I swear, the next one will be happy; I think all this time away from each other is just hard. Whoever said, “absence makes the heart grow fonder” can kiss my ass because really, all it does is make me miserable or angry, and I hate being either of those things. On a happier note, I drew a picture of the new deck. I think we should build when you come home as you asked me to months ago. I think we should make it larger than the one that is there now. Don’t worry; I can hear you laughing at me saying, “Of course you do” I think I will close for now and bake some muffins so I can include it with this letter. Please tell everyone I said hello, and I’m seriously counting down the days until you get back here. Please stay safe and watch your ass.

I Love You,

Your Initial

20 months ago

Deans POV

After Michael possessed Dean for the second time, he locked him away inside his mind, using the same beer cooler that Michael had created as Dean's happy place to cage him up. Michael never stopped banging, never stopped trying to get through the door. Still, Dean was confident that he had him locked up for good until Billie, now known as Death, came to see him in the bunker to tell him all of his stories in the library now ended the same, with Michael breaking free and using his vessel to burn their world down, all but one. The book that Billie gave him to let him know he had some choices to make.

Dean walked into the library the next morning to find Sam sitting at the table surrounded by books. “Whatcha reading?”

“Looking for stuff on archangels, it’s pretty interesting stuff,” he commented, looking up to face his brother, a determined look resting on his face. “Dean, we will find a way to fix this.”

“You know,” Dean gestured to the table, “I appreciate it, everything you have done, and you are doing.”

“Of course,” Sam smiled thinly, “that’s what we do, we are going to beat this. We have a lot to go through, why don’t you pull up a chair? I could use some help.”

“Actually, I thought I would go for a drive, you know me and Baby and a long stretch of road, and while I’m at it I thought I would go see Mom at Donna’s cabin, then Y/N,” he was glancing through the books on the table, doing whatever he needed not to make eye contact with his baby brother.

“Oh...okay,” Sam stuttered. “Yeah, give me a minute so I can get to a stopping point, and I will gather my stuff so we can go.”

“Well, about that,” Dean stalled, “I was hoping for some, one on one time with Mom and I just need to check on Y/N to make sure she is okay and to let her put eyes on me, so she knows I am too.”

Sam’s eyebrows knitted as he looked at his older brother; something wasn’t right, not to mention that he had Michael banging around in his head, yet, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. “It will be good for you to see them, and I know they both want to see you, do whatever you need.”

Dean pressed his lips together, trying to keep the sadness at bay. “Okay.”

As he walked around the table, he stopped behind Sam and reached around to hug him tightly for just a moment.

Standing up, he patted his shoulder, “Take care, Sammy.”

It was then that Sam began to realize there was more to Dean’s visits then he was telling him. The younger Winchester waited until he heard Baby leave the garage to start his search, hoping that he could find some answers to his brother’s decision to leave the bunker.

“Sam,” Y/N smiled as she picked up the phone.

“Hey Tink, how are you doing?” he asked, but she could hear an edge to his voice.

“I’m good.” She was walking around her newly finished kitchen at the cabin, wiping off the counter before she stopped and set the phone down, putting it on speaker. “You don’t sound so good. What’s going on?”

“Have you talked to Dean?”

“Yeah, Dean called last night," she thought back. "He said he was going to see your Mom, then come here, also that he wanted to work on a few things in the boathouse to clear his head. Why, Sam, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, Tink, I’m worried,” he sighed. “Ever since we locked Michael up, he has been acting strange, and now, he’s packed up and just left when we have so much to do.”

She pulled out one of the stools from the counter and sat down, resting her elbows on the counter and holding her head up with her hands, staring at the phone. “You know how he is, Sam; He hates research when a lot is going through his head, Dean needs to move, that is how he thinks best.”

“I know, it’s just-” she could hear him running his hands through his hair, “he hugged me before he left.”

“Okay…” she scrunched her eyebrows together, “that was nice.”

“Tink, we don’t hug, you know that,” he sighed. “I mean, we do, but it’s literally a life or death thing.”

She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know, Sam, he will be here late tonight, he is going to have dinner with your Mom first. Have you talked to her?”

“I have, Dean called her and said he would come by because he had a supply run. Maybe you’re right; it could be he needs to work in the boathouse and get moving to clear his head.”

“He and I will talk when he’s here, Sam. If I’m worried or if things don’t seem like they should, I will call you, I swear.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks, Tink,” he sighed, “talk soon.”

Dean opened the door quietly to the cabin, the only light in the living space was above the stove, giving the area a soft glow. Dean spotted Y/N immediately asleep on the couch. Closing the door softly behind him, he sat down his bag and leaned against the wall, never taking his eyes from her. Curled in a ball, she was facing him; her hair spread on a pillow, Y/N wore a fitted tank top with a pair of plaid boxers that he laughingly referred to as her old man underwear. Her expression was peaceful, with slightly parted lips. He began to wonder if she knew how beautiful she was or how her pure heart had changed his life for the better, but most of all, he questioned if she knew how much he really loved her. Leaving his brother was hard enough, but leaving her would be the most difficult. He wiped at a tear that silently rolling down his cheek, his heart beat painfully in his chest, knowing the anguish that she and Sam would face when they find out he is gone.

“Babe,” she heard Dean whisper, shaking her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” Y/N slowly blinked open her eyes to see him crouched next to her.

“Hey,” she smiled sleepily, “I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep.”

He brushed her hair back and pressed a kiss to her lips. “It’s after 2:00 in the morning; I would have been surprised if you were awake.” He slipped his hand in hers as he pulled her from the couch. “Let’s hit the hay; I'm so tired.”

She followed him groggily as he led her into the bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door behind him as she crawled under the sheets and watched him strip down to his boxers. He pulled down the blankets and slid in, drawing her to his side as she snuggled in and rested her head on his chest, tugging her closer, he kissed the top of her head. Her hand started to roam his chest as she leaned in and ran her lips up his neck to his ear.

He captured her hand with his and stilled it against his chest. “Babe, I really want to, I do, but I’m just exhausted tonight.”

“Okay.”

That is when she knew something was wrong; when Dean had a lot on his mind having sex was always a top priority, it let him forget about everything else. She snuggled back into him, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Both were staring into the dark, lost in their separate thoughts until sleep finally overtook them.

The sun was streaming through the window when Y/N woke up the next morning to an empty bed, reaching over she touched his side to feel the cold material under her fingertips. She strained to listen for a moment, hoping to hear him rattling around in the kitchen, but it was dead silent. A feeling of uneasiness washed over her as she got up and walked to the chest of drawers, pulling on a clean hoodie and pair of shorts. She padded out to the kitchen to start coffee then walked over to the window, peeking through the blinds; Baby was still there parked next to her Jeep, so she knew Dean was around here somewhere. Making her way to the bathroom she washed her face, brushed her teeth and then picked up her phone, to call Sam.

“Hey Tink.”

“Sam,” she greeted, jumping right in, “I think you're right, I don’t know what it is, but something is going on.”

“Yeah,” she could hear the concern in his voice, “I think I should come up; there is some stuff missing from the bunker.”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “Just let me try to talk to your brother. I told you I would call, but maybe he needs some time.”.”

“Okay, okay,” he conceded. “Just let me know if anything changes with him?”

“I will, Sam,” she promised, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Right,” Sam agreed, “soon.” She didn’t know the younger brother was already on his way to the cabin. He had his suspicions, and none of them were good.

Y/N laid her phone on the counter and finished making her coffee. Picking up her mug, she headed outside to find Dean. Hearing noises coming from the boathouse, so she made her way toward the dock when the sound stopped, and a moment later, Dean walked out the door, slamming it behind him. The look on his face chilled her to the bone; she couldn’t put her finger on it exactly; it was a mixture of anger, resolution, and sadness. When he spotted her standing in the middle of the yard, mug in hand, he pasted a smile on his face, but she knew, even from where she was standing, that he was pretending for her benefit, the smile never reached his eyes.

“Hey Babe, What are you doing out here?”

“I woke up, and you were gone, I thought maybe you had left, when I saw Baby was still here I thought I would come to find you and see what you were up to.”

“Oh, you know,” he ducked his head so she couldn’t see his face, “just messing around.”

“Anything in particular?”

“No, nothing specific,” he finally looked up, making eye contact. “You know a lot of stuff needs to get done, so I thought I would get a drop on it. Besides-” he opened his arms “-I needed to come see my girl,” he pulled her into him, holding her tight. He closed his eyes, feeling her in his embrace. This is what he was going to think about later when there were no more choices left to make.

She pulled away, looking up at him, her fingers running along the scruff of his jaw as she met his gaze. “Dean, whatever you are going through, whatever you are thinking, you can talk to me.”

He swallowed hard, a pained look sweeping across his face. “You know, everyone keeps asking me how I am, but here's the thing-” he inhaled deeply “-I just don’t want to talk about it, I can’t...please.”

She leaned against him, laying her face into his chest. “If you say so,” she whispered.

Dean kissed the top of her head, lingering for just a moment before leaning back to look at her face. “I’m starving, why don’t we head to that diner in town and grab some pancakes?”

Y/N scrunched her nose, “I’m not really feeling pancakes,” she lied. What she needed was to get in that boathouse to see what the Hell Dean was doing because she knew him well enough to know something was going on, she could feel it in her bones.

“Seriously?” he asked skeptically. “You don’t want pancakes? You love pancakes.”

She shrugged stepping out of his embrace, “I don’t know Dean, I think donuts from the bakery sound really good. Can you go get some?”

“I guess I could,” he hedged, glancing quickly at the boathouse.

“Great!” she smiled turning to walk towards the cabin. “Can you get the apple fritter and jelly kind? You know those are my favorite.”

Stopping at the steps, he bent to brush a kiss to her lips before continuing on to Baby. Cranking the engine, he glanced one more time at Y/N and roared down the driveway. She stood at the bottom of the steps until she could no longer hear the Impala. Setting down her cup on the steps she turned and glanced at the dock.

The blood roared in Y/N’s ears, and her heart banged against her ribcage as she quickly made her way to the boathouse she was praying that she could answer what was going on with Dean in there. It was more than just Michael locked away in his head; she could feel it.

The door opened with a loud screech that made her jump. She rolled her eyes to herself; sneaking around was just not her thing. Snapping the switch on, she saw a large metal rectangular box with symbols carved into it. She stood and stared at it for a moment as she swallowed the bile rising in her throat; it looked like a coffin. Y/N slowly made her way to the container. A few books were sitting on the top; with shaky fingers, she flipped open the first one; it had a picture of a casket matching the one in front of her with a skeleton lying inside; she riffled through the pages, scanning them as the realization dawned on her. It is a Ma’lak box, and it's to imprison archangels. She clamped her hand over her mouth as sour taste hit her tongue, her insides twisting. She slammed the book closed and ran out of the boathouse, making it out just in time to lose her stomach's contents on the dock's side. The dry heaves hit her as she finally stood up, wiping her mouth with her sweatshirt sleeve. Her brain was jumping in a thousand different directions at once.

Dean was going to kill himself. She couldn’t think straight; she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes in an attempt to get her thoughts together. “SAM!” her head screamed. She sprinted toward the cabin; Y/N knew she left her phone in the kitchen so she would call Sam, he would know what to do. As she was almost to the porch, the roar of Baby’s engine came up the driveway; she had run out of time.

She stood on the porch as Dean got out of the car, a white bakery box in hand. His long strides brought him to the bottom of the steps quicker than she could pull herself together. His smile fell as he saw her pale face and watery eyes.

“Babe, what’s going on?” his face filled with concern.

“No, Dean!” she pointed at him, her voice, a mixture of barely contained anger mixed with hysteria.

He set the box down on the steps, the knot in his stomach growing heavier with the apprehension that she knew his secret. “Tell me Y/N,” he rasped.

“I saw it, Dean,” she shakily accused, “what you are building in the boathouse, what you are planning. How could you do this?”

“It needs to be done. Y/N, there is no other choice.” He ran his hand over his face, resigned. “Billie showed me that if I don’t do this, Michael will break free, and if that happens, he will burn this world down, and I can’t risk that.”

“So what is the big plan, Dean?” she threw her hands up, raising her voice. “You and Michael get in that damn box, and we just pick a spot and bury you?”

“Not exactly,” he shook his head, climbing the steps to join her on the porch.

“Then what?”

“I don’t want to-” he reached for her, but she backed up out of his grasp.

“Bullshit!” she exploded. “You do not get to do this, Dean, you do not get to say you would rather I didn’t know, it’s too fucking late for that.”

“Fine,” his anger rising, “ burying me isn’t good enough, I’m going to find someone with a boat to drop me in the middle of the Pacific,” he brushed his hands together. “Done, problem solved.”

“So let me get this straight,” she started, tears streaming down her face, “ you and Michael, trapped underwater, together until the end of time. You know that’s crazy, right?”

“No Y/N” he sighed, “ it’s the only sane plan there is. Michael can’t get out of that box and he will get out of my head, eventually. So this, it’s the only card I have left to play.”

“Fuck that and fuck Billie!” she yelled, stomping her foot. “There has to be another way! Sam can find another way; you don’t have to do this!”

“Listen,” he pleaded, “Sam has tried, you know he has with Cas and Jack too. There is no other way Michael is coming,” he tapped his temple with his index finger. “I can feel that door in my head giving way; I’m out of options.”

“So that’s it,” she cried. “You came out here to build this, stopped by to see Donna and your Mom for what? To say goodbye, and then just leave? You were going to leave and not say goodbye to Sam or me, just disappear? Do you know how unfair that is?”

Anger and regret flashed in his eyes as he ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t have a choice, don’t you see that? You two were the last two people on this earth that I could be around because you are the only two that could talk me out of it, and Y/N I won’t be talked out of it, I can’t.”

She stared at him, her chest heaving, the understanding that she was helpless to stop him washing over her, the pain almost crushing her. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.

“Can’t do what?” he demanded

“I can’t stand by and watch you kill yourself.”

“I don’t have any other choice,” Dean lamented sadly. “What do you want from me?”

“You know I have never asked you for anything,” she shot back.

“Then ask for something!” he yelled.

“Fine,” she threw up her hands, pacing on the cabin's porch, “I want you to be safe! I don’t want you to die! I just want you to think about-” she choked out a sob.

“What Y/N?” he grasped her shoulders, stopping her misstep. “What is it that you want? Tell me!”

“Really?!” she shouted, jerking out of his grasp but standing her ground, tears continuing to roll down her face. "You want to hear this now? Well, here it is: I want you to love me more than you want to save the fucking world, okay?”

Dean stepped back, flinching as if she had physically slapped him. At that very moment, he realized she had no idea how deep his feelings for her were. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” she laughed humorlessly, “sorry for what, Dean? Sorry for making me fall in love with you, sorry for pretending that we might have a future together, or are you sorry for throwing it all away to lock yourself in a fucking box to die? Please tell me!” She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t move, which made her cry harder in anger. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her; she struggled for a moment before collapsing onto his chest, her mournful cries shredding him inside as he tried to stop his tears from falling. They stood there holding each other, fearing letting go would mean saying goodbye forever.

When Sam pulled into the drive, Dean and Y/N were sitting on the stoop, both looking out to the woods, her hand resting in his. Dean turned to look at his brother; when their eyes met, Sam knew that whatever was happening was terrible; Dean’s eyes were red-rimmed, jaw clenching, and unclenching. Y/N glanced up, the look of anguish scared him. Getting out of the car, he slowly approached them.

“What are you doing here, Sammy?” Dean asked, his voice raspy and monotone.

“Some things were missing from the bunker,” he replied, “things that I can’t figure out why you would take.”

Y/N exhaled loudly, "Tell him, Dean," her voice flat as she stood up, pulling her hand from his. She walked up the three steps into the house, closing the wooden door quietly behind her.

“Tell me what?” he asked harshly, knowing he would not like the answer.

Dean stood up and began to make his way to the boathouse. “Come on,” he waved, his voice solemn, “I’ll just show you.”

Sam followed his brother into the boathouse, at the sight of the metal coffin, anger and sadness hit him full force. Dean tried to explain the plan to his baby brother, however the more he went into detail, the more infuriated Sam became, frustrated with his brother's willingness to self-sacrifice. .

“So, that’s it, then?” he questioned, “are we even going to talk about it?”

“Why?’ his older brother answered, “It doesn’t change anything.”

“Dean,” Sam appealed, “we know we could die, it’s part of the job, but what you're doing? It’s worse than death. Michael is an archangel; he could keep you alive and buried with him forever.”

Dean lifted a shoulder, defeated. “It doesn't matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t!” Sam yelled. “You are just willing to walk away from all of us, from your family, who want to help you! Aren’t you even scared?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t scared,” he sighed, running his hands over his hair, “but what’s the other option? Michael gets out and destroys everything because it’s all right there in Billie’s book, just like I told you.”

“That's only if we can’t find another way, Dean, there has to be another way.”

“And what is that way, Sam?” Dean asked, resigned, “Tell me.”

Sam threw up his hands, searching for words to fight his case.

“Exactly,” he pointed his finger at his younger brother, “which is why it’s going to be my way. Look, Sammy, you are either with me on this or not. If you aren’t with me, you gotta tell me now; I need to know if you are going to see this thing through to the end.”

“I don’t like it, Dean, there has to be another way, but you will not do this alone. I give you my word.”

“I just don’t need you to get shaky on this or you and Y/N to come up with some plan that isn’t going to work. It has to be my way.”

“What about Cas and Jack or Mom?” Sam questioned, “You haven’t said anything to them; why?”

“I know,” Dean huffed, running his hand along the back of his neck. “I’m just not good at the big goodbye thing; I can’t second guess myself now.”

“Well, Dean,” Sam shook his head, disappointed, “that wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

“You know what Michael wants; you know this is the only way to stop him, so either get on board or let me know now because I’m not going to drag this out.”

Sam looked at his older brother in the eye. “I said I am there until the end, and I mean it, I don’t agree with it, and I think there is another way, but I have your back Dean, always.”

“There is a trailer outback; I’m going to hook it up to Baby, then I need your help loading this box on it. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” Sam nodded once, “What about Tink?”

“I don’t know if she is going to come back out of the house.” He rubbed his stubble in thought.

“So, that’s it?” Sam questioned angrily, “You are just going to leave her there, after all of this?”

“No, Sam,” he met his brother's eyes, matching his anger, “I’m going to go in there and do the thing I never wanted to do, I’m going to tell her goodbye.” He choked on the last word, “So, I need you to do me a favor, Sammy.”

“I know what you are going to ask me,” he stated.

“Well, I’m asking anyway, watch out for her, would you? Check-in just to make sure she is alright.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam looked at Dean, his lips in a firm line, “I will, but I’m telling you she isn’t going to be fine, none of us are.”

Dean hooked up the trailer behind Baby, and he and Sam loaded the Ma’lak box, securing it to the trailer. Sam went to gather all of the tools from the boathouse as Dean walked into the cabin. As he entered the front door, it was eerily quiet, Y/N nowhere to be found; he stuck his head into every room checking for her. Dean knew in his gut she was in the bedroom they shared, his stomach sinking just a little bit more with every step to his destination. Stopping in front of the door, he saw her lying on the bed, under the covers with her back to him, staring out the glass wall.

“Babe,” he said softly, she didn’t move, she didn’t acknowledge him, he knew she wasn’t sleeping as he watched her breath. Tiptoeing into the room, he sat on the bed, placing his large hand on her back to comfort her. Instead, she flinched under his touch, which was an arrow to his soul. Standing up, he walked to the other side of the bed, crouching down in her eyesight, he tried to catch her eye, but she wouldn’t look at him, instead just closed her eyes, silent.

“Y/N,” he whispered, “I have to go.” He watched her face as he said the words, tears leaking from her closed lids soundlessly. Brushing her hair back from her face, he leaned and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded her head once against the pillow, acknowledging his words, squeezing her eyes tighter, afraid to speak for fear she would fall apart.

“Please look at me,” he pleaded, his hand resting on the side of her head, his thumb brushing against her brow. She squeezed her eyes tight and then opened them, her tears glistening off her lashes. Dean wished he hadn’t have asked her, he saw all of the pain she felt in her expressive eyes, which made him physically feel the grief he was causing. Her heartache was going to be what he remembered when he was locked in that box, haunting him for eternity. Dean didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to close himself in that damned coffin. Yet, he didn’t have a choice. Between Y/N and Sam, he was starting to waver. Her watery eyes blinking at him, he smiled sadly. Leaning down, he brushed a soft kiss across her mouth and heard her choke back a sob. Speaking against her lips, he whispered, “I love you, Y/N. You’ll forever be in my heart..”

Standing up, unshed tears in his own eyes, Dean pulled the blanket up, tucking it underneath her chin. Shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, he walked to the bedroom door.

“Dean,” she choked out.

He paused, turning around, she was still facing the window, on a shuttered breath, she spoke, “I will always love you.”

With that, he turned on his heel, the tears finally falling as he made his way to the car and his brother, away from the only woman he truly loved with every ounce of his being.

Dean’s POV

The next three weeks were a whirlwind. Sam talked him into taking one more job before they dropped him in the ocean. Dean knew he was stalling for the inevitable, but what was one more job? Dead bodies with symbols carved in them? Enochian marks, it was right up their alley. They were prophets or more specific damaged prophets because Donatello was in a coma thanks to Castiel, not exactly dead but not alive. They were able to bring Donnie back, again thanks to Cas, he still didn’t have a soul, but there were worse things at this point.

Dean and Sam had fought. His little brother had sucker-punched him, trying to knock some sense into him, accusing him of throwing in the towel and quitting on not only him but Y/N. That they must mean nothing to him after everything that had done together, Sam believes in them, so why doesn’t Dean?

The elder Winchester then made the decision to put the Ma’lak box on the back burner, just for the moment. It was still the only option he could see, but if Sam needed to see this through, he was going to give that to him, how could he not? The younger Winchester was right; after all, they had been through a lot together, how could Dean just quit? He believed in them, in all of them and Hell, Billie might be wrong after all, but one thing he knew for sure is that he could count on his family. Dean made Sam and Cas promise him that if it comes to an end and they have run out of options, they would do what they couldn’t do now, and that was let him go. They had to promise to put him in the box and drop him in the ocean's bottom.

Once the promises were made, they headed back to the bunker, Dean's phone burning in his pocket; he just wanted to hear her voice. Still, until they came to a resolution with Michael, he could not call her; this painful back and forth was never what she agreed to. At this point, she may never forgive him, so he needed to hold tight to see if they could find a solution before he reached out to her again.

A few days after they got back to the bunker, they got some information on a guy who owned a pawn shop who had robbed and killed Bart Kemp, a friend of theirs who was murdered and his place emptied. In the boxes of occult items recovered, he discovered a Baozhu pearl, only one of eight in existence; it was supposed to give you what your heart desires. Dean knew he wanted to throw Michael out on his ass, no more riding shotgun in his head. The brothers knew they were running out of options; this might be their last hope.

When they got home, they decided to try it; if it didn’t work, there was no reason to share it with the rest of the family. Placing the pearl in his hand, he concentrated on Michael leaving; he knew it must be working because the lights went out, and that is when all hell broke loose, in the very best and very worst way possible. In the dark, someone hit them both with the butt end of a shotgun; as the lights came back on, standing in front of them was the one person the brothers ever thought they would see again, their father, John Winchester.

It took them all a few minutes to wrap their head around what they saw as John struggled with the fact that they were so much older than when he was pulled 16 years into the future. Sitting at the kitchen table, they tried to fill their father in on all of the things that happened since he traded his life and the colt for Dean’s life so many years ago. Although in shock and a little awe, John agreed it was all worth it to avenge Mary’s death, but that was the news that would knock John on his ass as he heard Mary’s voice calling to their boys as she entered the bunker.

Seeing his parents see each other for the first time in decades was bittersweet for Dean, that his heart desired to have his family together. Just one person was missing because he didn’t have it in him to call her and disappoint her one more time. He and Sam figured out quickly that bringing their Dad into the future had changed the whole trajectory of history. Sam was a kale eating attorney who gave Ted Talks; Dean was still a hunter wanted by every agency under the sun. They knew the only way to fix this was to send John back to 2003. That is the Winchester way, doing the right thing no matter what the personal cost. They were able to have one meal together before they sent their Dad back, the one meal that they would always remember, although John would recall it as a dream. Mary told John about Y/N during the dinner, although she had yet to meet her, she and Dean had been together almost a year and a half, and Mary saw the joy she brought to her eldest son and wanted her husband to know it too. John pulled Dean to the side before they had to say goodbye for the final time.

“Dean,” his father began, “I never meant for this, for you to live this life, this was my fight never yours, it was my fight with yellow eyes, now look at you, you are a grown man, and I am incredibly proud of you,” he sighed. “You know son, I guess I hoped eventually you would find a life, a normal life, a peaceful one, settle down and start a family of your own.”

“You know, Dad,” Dean smiled sadly, “I have a family.”

John matched his sad smile with one of his own, “I know you do, with Sammy, Jack, and Cas, and it’s a good family.” Reaching out he and grasped his shoulder, “but Dean, you have a chance to have what your Mom and I had, not with all the tragedy that comes with it, but a real-life that you can call your own, with a woman that loves you,” John chuckled, "despite your faults. Your Mom said she is something special.”

“She is Dad; she really is,” Dean choked.

“Well then,” he smiled, “when all this gets figured out with Michael, and don’t you kid yourselves, you two boys will figure it out. You need to go to Y/N and tell her Dean, tell her that the world does not spin without her, because if you don’t, and you try to live this life without her? You will die, maybe not on the outside,” he patted his chest over his heart, “but in here. Trust me, son, I’m telling you this because I lived it. Go to your girl, Dean. You will have a life better than you could ever dream of.”

“Thanks, Dad” Dean's mouth quirked up at the side, tears shining in his eyes, “that means more to me than you will ever understand.”

“I know I didn’t always show it-” John rasped, “because I was too wrapped up in my own revenge, but Dean, I wanted the best for you and Sam always. Now you two have a chance to live your best life, do it, both of you.” He pulled Dean to him and hugged him tightly, “go and live the only life your Mom and I ever wanted for you. I love you, son.”

“You to Dad,” he choked. “I love you too.”

Inhaling deeply, John sniffed as he stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets, "well, I guess we need to get to it then.”

“Yeah,” Dean croaked, hanging his head.

Standing in the library, John hugged his sons, reminding them again how proud he is of both of them and also reminding Dean that he should listen to his old man’s advice. He held Mary’s hand as Sam crushed the Baozhu pearl under a pottery bowl, watching with heavy hearts as John disappeared.

As Dean lay in his bunk that night, he flipped through the pictures of Y/N on his phone. The smile on her face warmed him through the photograph as his father's words repeated through his mind. There was one thing that troubled him. What if this was the time that she could not forgive him? What if this was the thing that destroyed everything they had built together? What if once again he sabotaged his own life for everyone else. If they could figure this Michael situation out, he would call her, no, he would get in Baby and find her because she deserved nothing less and just hoped to God or whoever was listening that she would give him one more chance.

In the next few days, Sam was busy searching through more books to find answers until they got a lead on a demigod who was killing humans and consuming their bodies. Even with Rowena’s help, the gorgon was always one step ahead of him until he left a note for Dean after killing a truck driver, realizing that they couldn’t see Cas. The pounding in his head was getting worse, and Dean was sure if they didn’t find something soon, he would find himself at the bottom of the pacific. Dean just hoped that he didn’t have to fight Cas and his brother on this because he just wasn’t sure he had it in him. He wasn’t sleeping much, so instead, he spent that time dwelling on how different things would be had he made other choices.

He talked to Jody; she and Donna had driven to see Y/N at the cabin. She didn't say too much except that Y/N was surviving. That turned Dean’s world upside down, yet he was helpless at this point to do anything but move forward or take the plunge. Either option did not look appealing to him.

Rowena put on a tracking spell on the demigod and sent Castiel and Jack in first because the Gorgon couldn’t see them; as the fight ensued, Sam and Dean joined in when things went sideways. He was stronger than he looked and got the drop on Dean, smashing his head multiple times against the wall's corner, leaving him unconscious. Jack was able to behead the demigod before his escape and used his powers to save Cas because Rowena's anti-venom did not work on angels.

They made their way back to the bunker from New Mexico, Dean never regaining consciousness. When he finally woke up, he was in a rage, destroying a part of the infirmary. He told them this would happen, and now there would be hell to pay; Michael was gone, broke down the door that Dean had him locked behind in his mind, and now he was gone, now the world would burn. Hearing screams from the war room, they ran to find Michael jumped inside Rowena. He didn’t give her a choice; she wasn’t Dean, but she was strong and a close second, Now Michael was going to take over this world just like he had planned when he came through the rift all those months ago, except this time there was no one to stop him. Or so he thought.

Michael was enjoying causing Dean, Sam, and Cas pain; Jack was unaffected, but that was just a small distraction. Suffocating them, blinding them, causing them pain was just a little game until they suffered a bit before ending them all. Jack had had enough, to hell with his soul burning up; he would kill Michael or die trying. Michael thought he would stop him? He was the son of Lucifer, a hunter, a Winchester! With that, Jack placed his hands on either side of Rowena's head, driving Michael out. As Michael's essence swirled around the ceiling, Jack burned up his remaining soul by torching Michael and ingesting his grace. Michael was dead. It was over, and no one else had to die by Michael’s hand; Dean was free.

The older Winchester’s first thought was Y/N. Michael was dead, sure they had to think about dealing with Jack without a soul, but it couldn’t be that hard, right? He had to get to her to fix this. Dean needed sleep, and he was also worried about how Sam was coping, but they could hold off for a few days, right? He had 10 hours to figure out how to make it up to her as he headed to Castle Rock Lake. He wanted to make her see that Michael was gone and that he was sorry that he had put her through everything, but he was back, entirely himself and would never put her through it again.

By the time he got to the lake, it was early morning, the excitement and trepidation making him almost jittery. As he cleared the trees to the cabin, he looked up to see the door to the cabin slam closed; his heart sunk a little as that was not a good sign. He was tired from the drive, hell he was exhausted from the last three weeks, but his Dad was right, he needed her.

Climbing from the car, he strode up the walkway and climbed the steps stopping in front of the door. He knew his girl well enough that he would bet every dime in his pocket that she was standing just inside with her back pressed up against the door. Laying his palm against the wood, he called to her.

“Babe.”

“No, Dean,” came her muffled reply.

“Come on, Babe, come out here and talk to me,” he tried to reason.

“I can’t do this again.” He could hear her crying. It hurt because he knew it was all because of him, but he was trying to fix it...if she would just let him.

“Y/N, just open the door.”

“No, go away, Dean, I mean it go away.”

Stepping to the door, he leaned his forehead against the heavy wood with a sigh, “I’m not leaving; I will just stand here until you open up.”

“No, you won’t!” she yelled, he could hear the panic in her voice; she knew him, if he said he was going to do something, it would happen. “I will call the cops!” she threatened.

“Really?” he stifled a chuckle. “You are going to call the cops on me?”

There was a moment of silence before she huffed out a “No.”

“Babe, open the door,” he pleaded.

“I’m not opening the door; you just need to go. Seriously, I can't do this anymore, Dean. I don’t want to be just one more of your responsibilities. I just need to figure out how to-” her voice cut off on a sob.

“I just want to see you, so you can tell me to my face that you never want to see me again.”

“Why?” she yelled, banging her fist on the door. “Can’t you just listen and do what I ask?”

“It’s simple,” he almost smiled; he knew that the longer it took her to open the door, the better chance he had of fixing what he had broken. “You open the door and look me in the eye and tell me you're done.”

“You are an asshole!” she screamed as she banged on the door.

“That may be sweetheart,” he chuckled, “ but I’m not stepping foot off this porch until you look me in the eye.”

“Well,” she laughed sarcastically, “You will be out there a long time.”

“Ah, well,” Dean smiled as he turned around and sat down, bracing his back on the door, “you know how stubborn I can be, I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Chapter 14

Tags: @winchest09 @katehuntington @whatareyousearchingfordean @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @superfanficnatural @deanwanddamons @janicho88 @talesmaniac89 @anathewierdo @compresshischest09 @supernatural-bellawinchester @jensengirl83 @this-is-what-im-reduced-to @ellewritesfix05 @moron225 @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @unicornqu33n17 @swinchester27@4fareader @deans-baby-momma @squirrelnotsam @clumsy-nerd104 @sarahbaker2010 @supernatural-love14 @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @angelhearts1012 @nothinbuttrouble2 @cookiechipdough @lady-pswrld @peachyafshawn @notan-applepielife @linki-locks11 @atc74 @divadinag @dvnmbabe @michellethetvaddict @stoneyggirl @fernandaburdasova @smol-and-grumpy @440mxs-wife @abuavnee @krazykelly @malfoysqueen14

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #reader insert #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #slow burn #dean winchester series #a man of letters #waywardbeanie

101 notes · View notes