#businessman dean

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 3: Digital

Dean should have never taken advice from Zachariah Adler, AKA the worst boss in existence. While Dean eats wheatgrass and manifests his best self (whatever the hell that actually means), Adler’s probably poaching his biggest accounts with his oily charm and smarmy grin.

It was Dean’s fault for getting too personal in smalltalk before the Marketing & Sales all-hands meeting, saying how he’d been on an improvement kick – Kubrick oversold the damn Master Cleanse by several hundred orders of magnitude – but he didn’t know what to do next.

Zachariah, of course, had the perfect solution: a digital detox retreat. Worked wonders for him a few months ago.

After everyone arrives at the campsite – if you can call it that, with its electricity, running water, and actual toilets – they go on an hour-long hike, do yoga by the lake, and in the afternoon have some weird group therapy session to discuss their “technology addiction”.

Dean spends most of his turn complaining about Sandover’s batshit promotion policy, but a couple people nod in agreement around the circle. The uncomfortable-looking guy in pristine jeans and boots that Dean would bet dollars to donuts never touched actual dirt until that morning, mumbles he works at Sandover too.

He – Castiel – goes next, saying his roommate pressed him to go on this retreat. He drops corporate buzzwords like “toxic environments” and “poor work-life balance” with a pinched, bewildered expression on his face, and Dean has a sneaking suspicion that Cas has no idea what they actually mean. The weirdo actually uses finger quotes around “hustle culture”. 

Cas evidently made time for yoga, though. (Dean wasn’t entirely focused on the instructor when it came time for downward dog.) He has an ass Dean hasn’t seen outside of porn – the fancy kind, the kind you pay for.

By day four, Dean can practically feel Zachariah and the other sales sharks circling his biggest accounts.

In the evening, Dean lines up for the lone phone on the premises – a communal landline – and calls Charlie, their western sales rep and Dean’s best work-friend at Sandover. He not-so-subtly probes her, and Charlie admits she saw Zachariah having lunch with Lily Sunder of Sunder Inc. 

Dean almost loses it right then and there. 

But because he is a goddamn professional, he politely listens to Charlie’s dramatic retelling of last Tuesday night’s bar trivia (they lost without Dean’s pop culture powerhouse) before hanging up and stalking out of the room.

Incensed, he paces around his cabin, trying to come up with a plan. Sammy isn’t due to pick him up in the Impala until the end of the retreat in three days. But by then, it could be all over.

So, after some serious Mission Impossible shit and Ocean’s 11 levels of safe cracking, Dean is once again in possession of his phone. 

Just out of sight of the campsite, probably standing in a bunch of poison ivy, knowing his luck, he turns it on. “Fuck,” he mutters, entirely unsurprised to see he has no bars out here in the ass end of nowhere.

Time to rough it.

He ducks back into his cabin to grab a flashlight, his swiss army knife, and a granola bar – all stuff he packed without knowing he was going glamping. Armed with his gear and his phone, he goes on the hunt for a signal. The hiking trail from their first day reached a decently high elevation.

About a third of the way up, a rustling in the underbrush makes him freeze.

Heart pounding, his gaze darts up from his phone screen and his hand tightens around his swiss army knife in his pocket. Are there bears in this area? Why the hell didn’t he pack bear spray?

“Dean?”

Dean exhales a quick sigh of relief. Not a bear.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says as he quickly stashes his phone in his jacket. “What the hell are you doin’ all the way out here?”

Cas blinks owlishly at him. He has a few leaves and a twig or two stuck in his hair. The fresh dirt covers the knees of his jeans, like he took a fall (or five) in the past ten minutes. After a long beat, he deadpans, “Communing with nature.”

Dean unclenches his hands from around his knife and instead crosses his arms over his chest, regarding Cas impassively. Internally, he’s beyond amused, so he can’t help but ask, “And how’s that goin’ for ya?”

Cas narrows his eyes. “Poorly,” he says sourly.

A rapid series of tinny chimes cut off Dean’s snort of laughter. He eagerly grabs his phone, scanning the barrage texts coming in. He only has one bar, but better that than nothing.

“You have service?” Cas demands, stepping closer.

“Fucking finally,” Dean breathes as he holds his phone up above his head. The signal stubbornly does not improve. Damn.

Sighing, Cas slips his own phone out of his pocket and squints despondently at the screen.

Maybe that was why Mr. Wilderness was bumbling around in the dark, halfway up a mountain. Well, Dean’s not a heartless corporate suit, no matter what Charlie calls him when he has to cancel Moondoor plans at the last-minute. “D’you wanna use mine?” Dean asks. “I’ve got almost a full charge.”

Cas looks like he could kiss Dean right then and there – and, huh, isn’t that an idea? Cas’s gaze shifts to Dean’s phone, an eager glint in his eyes like Dean might as well be holding the holy grail itself. “Thank you,” Cas breathes.

“No problem,” Dean says casually. “Mind if we go a bit higher? I think we can get a better signal.”

Cas nods, and they set off up the trails.

“So…” Dean starts, “Sandover too?”

“Unfortunately,” Cas says with an adorable grimace. “You as well?”

Dean nods. “Marketing.”

“Finance.”

Dean’s dealings with Finance are limited, mostly to the junior accountants who have nothing better to do than pull him reports that should all be entered into the dullest Excel sheet of the year awards. “Do you work with Marv?” he asks, naming the one Finance Director he worked with on the Talbot account.

A sliver of moonlight falls on Cas’s face from a break in the tree cover, or else Dean never would have caught his look of apprehension. After a beat, Cas says evenly, “I do.”

“What a dick,” Dean says, and Cas’s expression relaxes. “Has he told you about the book he’s writing?” During their last meeting, Marv spent twenty minutes droning on and on.

“Yes,” Cas says with the look of a man who was indeed up to date on the intricate politics of angel factions and the motivations of a stupidly overpowered hero. “I’m surprised he told you about it, though. He tends only to inflict his writing process on the Finance Department.”

Dean lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I guess I’m just that adorable.”

“I’d say so,” Cas says before promptly tripping over a root. He straightens, his blush all but glowing in the dark.

“You alright?” Dean says, trying and mostly failing to keep in his laughter.

“Fine,” Cas mutters. “We’d better keep going. I think there’s a plateau up ahead.”

“So why did you come out to this thing if tree hugging isn’t your deal?” Dean asks conversationally.

“My roommate said I needed to get out of the city for my own good,” Cas says glumly. “She said it was either this or Coachella.”

Dean doesn’t bother muffling his laughter this time around. Cas at Coachella? Dean can just as easily see him flying around outer space. 

Once Dean’s chuckles subside, Cas asks, “So why are you here, Dean?”

Dean rubs the back of his neck. “Similar to you, I guess. I’ve been looking for a change, you know?” Way back when, he thought Sandover would be a pitstop. A way to make a decent paycheck with good dental before he figured out what he really wanted to do with his life (other than hunt ghosts and/or run around Gotham in an awesome batsuit). 

But it only seemed like the blink of an eye when he looked up and realized his fifth anniversary at Sandover came and went. And he had nothing to show for it except a stellar portfolio and a dozen dead plants in an apartment he rarely saw during daylight hours.

“I guess I was hoping for a reset,” Dean says seriously. “It’s like, one day I woke up and I saw that my whole life was my work.” He shakes his head. “That’s no way to live.”

“I suppose not.” Cas smiles crookedly. “Not that I would know any differently.”

They reach the plateau, and Dean checks his phone.

Three whole bars shine brightly back at him from his phone screen. 

And because he’s a gentleman when it counts, he hands it over to Cas to make the first call. He lays back against a tree, staring out as the stars as Cas talks over returns and turnovers for next quarter. Every so often, Dean picks out a recognizable name like MacLeod Pharma, Sandover’s biggest client. 

Fifteen minutes later (ten more than they are allowed on the communal landline back at camp), Cas hands over the phone with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean says as he dials Lily’s number. He leaves her a voicemail since she’s old school, and moves on down his mental list, sending emails to Benny, Lenore, and Garth. He sends a meme to Andy, the only form of communication that has a chance of getting through to him.

That done, he finds Cas leaning against a tree, staring out at the night sky above them. “I’d forgotten how beautiful it can be under a full moon with all the stars.”

Dean nods in agreement. He’s not normally a touchy-feely guy, but he feels strangely not-himself, halfway up some random mountain in the Catskills with an almost-stranger in the dark. Not in a bad way, though. Not at all. 

“Hey,” he says with far more confidence than he actually feels, “d’you wanna do something like this back home?”

Cas stares at him, his eyes impossibly wide. “Like what?”

“I dunno,” Dean hedges, the remaining bravado draining away at Cas’s lack of immediate enthusiasm, “Something just the two of us, no phones, no work.”

“I believe the whole point of this little trip was to enable phone usage and catch up on work,” Cas says dryly.

Dean nudges him with his elbow. “You know what I mean.”

Cas steals a sidelong glance his way. “Would this be like… a date?”

“If you want it to be,” Dean says, deliberately keeping his eyes trained on the moon overhead. “Or just a few hours to keep ourselves honest about what we want out of life.”

“I’d like that.”

[dorkylilguy]

loving white collar businessman and his spoiled freelance husband 💚💙

[talesmaniac89]

The Man in Apartment 43 - Epilogue

Series Masterpost (Complete)

Summary: Dean x Reader - Neighbours AU - Dean and the reader live next door to each other and can’t stand each other. Will things change once circumstances bring this bartender and businessman duo closer together?

Triggers: None

Start Here | Last Part | THE END

A/N: This story is now complete!

Two years later

---

“Agent, you are amazing,” 

The former special forces officer’s voice was warm and hot against her neck as he held her close. The world was safe, and it was only him and her, on the top of the icy mountain ridge. He moved his mouth from her neck and leaned in, inches from her lips as she let her fingers comb through his hair and moved in to kiss him. Even as the battle-hardened agent she was, she could swear she heard background music swell as he leaned in and… 

Living easy! Living free! Season ticket on a one way ride!  

Groaning, you pushed away from your laptop with a heavy sigh after the initial chords of Highway to Hell had you jumping in your seat. Stretching your body and rolling your stiff shoulders from the hours spent writing, you let your head fall back against the chair before you swivelled it around. 

“Dean Winchester!” You called out, knowing he’d be somewhere close by if he’d decided to treat you to one of his rock shows. Schooling your features, you made sure no sign of the smile that was threatening to break free showed as Dean’s green eyes peeked in at you from behind the door.

That boyish grin still easily sent your heart soaring after two full years together. You were sure you’d never grow immune to what that smile did to you, nor the handsome man it was attached to. Not that you wanted to grow immune. Hell, you loved him more and more every day. Even when he pulled his little tricks and broke your concentration just as you were nearly finishing up your second book in your bestselling series. 

“Sorry sunshine, but you did tell me to let you know when the movers got here with the last of it,” He chuckled as he finally deemed it safe enough to come inside your home office to sneak a small kiss from your pouting lips. The damned handsome man always thought he could get away with everything that way. And, as you felt yourself melt from the taste of him on your lips, you had to admit he really could. 

“Not by pulling me down a highway to hell again,” You said with a pout as you held your hands out for him to pull you out of your office chair and into his arms. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he placed a small placating kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll use Stairway to Heaven next time,” He chuckled, bright eyes smiling down on you as you reached up to trace his laugh lines before lifting yourself up to kiss the handsome prankster. 

“Sometimes I wonder why I ever agreed to move in with you Mr. Winchester,” You mused as you smiled against his lips before you finally untangled yourself from him and grabbed his hand instead. Pulling him towards the front of the house. You should, after all, not let your movers wait. 

“I make a mean cup of coffee, and you love my burgers,” Dean shot back, not even pretending to think it through, or even act offended, as he fell into step next to you and placed a soft peck at the back of your hand. 

“True… Though I can think of a few other reasons,” You let your voice fall to a whisper as you shot him a heated look. Rolling your tongue against your bottom lips, you gave your handsome man another quick once over as your free hand traced along his upper body down towards his belt. A look that had green eyes darkening as he grabbed for you, trying to pull you up against the hard panes of his body as you quickly evaded his grasp with a teasing wink. 

“We can’t keep the movers waiting,” You sing-songed back over your shoulder as you ran down the hallway. Ending your words with a squealed laugh as you heard Dean let out an indignant growl before chasing you down the hall of your new home. 

After your Gabe-orchestrated “meet cute” outside Castiel’s apartment, Dean had moved back to Apartment 43 temporarily, until another apartment opened up in your building six months later. And after one and a half years of being somewhat ‘neighbours’ you had finally left apartment 11A and 32B behind to move in together. Moving into a cute little house on the outskirts of Lawrence. 

It already felt like home. Even though you had only been there for a week and you didn’t even have all your furniture in place yet. None of that mattered. All you needed was each other. 

Well… Each other, and the waffle iron that was with the load the movers were delivering, since you had people coming over later. Rushing to the door, your squealed laughter caused the movers to look up from where they were unloading the boxes from the truck to see you being lifted into the air by Dean just as you opened the door. 

Smiling into the soft kiss Dean pressed against your lips, you gently tapped his arm. Making him put you down as he easily, as easy and naturally as breathing, entwined your fingers with his. Squeezing your hand gently before the two of you walked out onto your perfect picket fence lawn to greet the movers. 

---

“Are you sure it’s in this box, sunshine?” Dean had to speak up to be heard over the music filling your small kitchen as you danced back and forth preparing for the lunch you were hosting. His task had been to find your waffle iron in the multitude of boxes, but he kept getting distracted as he came up behind you to twirl you around the room to one of his favourite songs or just place soft open-mouthed kisses against your neck. 

“Never mind, I found it!” He exclaimed with a grin just as you turned to help him look. A small proud smile lighting up his face and making him look younger as you rolled your eyes at him before reaching out to pluck the waffle iron out of his hands. 

Dean however, wasn’t ready to give up his hard won treasure all that easily as he held it out of your reach with a smirk before quickly placing it on the countertop behind him and grabbing your outstretched hand. Placing a soft kiss against your fingertips, he turned those forest green eyes up towards you.

“Do I get a prize?” He murmured as his lips gently brushed up your fingers before placing another kiss against the diamond ring that was nestled securely around your left ring finger. The same ring he’d nervously gotten down on one knee to give you just a week earlier. Between moving boxes and madness the day you first moved in together. Exclaiming he couldn’t wait a second longer to ask you to marry him. 

“And what prize do you want Mr. Winchester,” You asked your fiancé as you turned your hand in his gentle grasp to trace the shape of his plump bottom lip. 

“I can think of a few things I’d like…” Raising his eyebrows at you, Dean threw you a cheeky wink as he let his free arm snake around your waist to push your body against his. His lips chased after yours as you placed your fingers more firmly against his lips. Stopping the sneaky thief from stealing another kiss, since you knew it would just be the first of many, and so much more. 

“Everyone will be here in an hour De,” You reminded him as his teeth teasingly nipped at your fingertips. Normally you would nearly always give in to your soon to be husband’s advances. After all, you could barely keep your hands off of the devastatingly handsome man. But you had one hour to get lunch ready for eight people. Including a small waffle station for Sam’s kids. 

So your own little indulgence had to wait. 

“We should just call them all and cancel,” Dean grumbled, but he still let go of you as you leaned up to place a placating kiss on his pouting lips with a small laugh. Moving quickly, you slipped fully out of his reach as you grabbed the waffle iron from behind him, before just as quickly going back to your little prep station to ready it. 

“You know we can’t do that,” You hummed softly, as Dean slid in next to you. Quickly getting to work at chopping up the strawberries, grapes, chocolate and other waffle station ingredients while you focused on the actual batter. 

It was one year, to the day, that the final verdict was passed down, and both Brian and Ketch went away for a very long time. Both of them had been sentenced for attempted murder, kidnapping and a slew of other charges. And the latest from Detective Davies was that Ketch was also facing additional new charges, which would leave him rotting in jail for a very long time. Since Charlie’s work in her new role for the Cyber Crime Unit had found proof that he’d been hindering multiple other investigations. As well as supplying classified information to some very bad people. 

So, you had decided to host a lunch in your backyard. Not just to celebrate the one year anniversary of the sentencing, but also the housewarming of your new house. And, though they didn’t know it yet, to tell Charlie, Gabe, Jess and Sam about your engagement. 

You wanted your family, the people you had gone through thick and thin with over the last two years, to be the first to know. Which was why there was no way you could cancel your lunch. And, after all… You and Dean had the rest of your lives together. 

Your man from apartment 43 had become the man you were going to marry. You were his, and he was yours. Forever. And though it took a hellish situation to break down the wall between your apartments so you could see him for who he was, you had made it through it all, stronger than ever. You’d come to know the man behind the rock music, and you’d fallen in love with him. More and more every day. 

You’d broken down all your walls, and built a home out of the scraps. Letting Dean hold your hand, you’d crossed every new bridge, together. Into a bright future, a happily ever after, that was everything you ever wanted and more. 

You were happy. You were home. And you were done running. 

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler  @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @adoptdontshoppets @starsandmidnightblue @screechingartisancashbailiff @septixtrash @punof-agun  @deandreamernp @justagirlinafandomworld @sexyvixen7 @justrealizedimmascifygurl @globetrotter28

The Man in Apartment 43 Tags: @campingmonkey @talia-ciufo @monkeymcpoopoo @deans-baby-momma @kalesrebellion @sarahpunkinator @smokinserious @cookiechipdough @winchestergirl82 @babykalika2001 @bagpussjocken @thefridgeismybestie @elliloumom @pinknerdpanda @zombiecupcake29 @justaparttimeauthor @that-one-gay-girl @starchildwild @poptart06294 @gia-25 @siospins2 @ariesbabe1993 @jamerlynn

Forever tags will be added as reblog

[welcometoqueer]

so y’all remember in season 14 when Dean planned to trap himself inside a Ma’lak box and sink to the bottom of the ocean forever—to be sunk alive with Michael because being buried alive wasn’t safe enough-and had a vivid nightmare about his horrific fate if he went that route???

anyways, haha OceanGate, am I right?

[philhoffman]

PUNCH-DRUNK LOVE: 12 SCOPITONES (2003)

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Don't Fight It

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: angst, gun violence, murder, fluff

Request by @jessicalynnann: Dean standing by a window and he is a multi millionaire mob boss… any ways. Standing by the window with a glass of whiskey waiting for the reader who he keeps denying his feelings for…. Any ways her best friend calls says that someone is bothering the reader and won’t leave them alone. Well he rushes down and saves the reader after he finds her in the alley almost being attacked and then he confesses everything 😂☺️

Summary: You work for not only a successful businessman but also a man who does less than legal things in his spare time. He hopes to never have to bring you into that side of his life but when your ex makes an appearance, he has no choice but to use his deadly skills to get you out of trouble alive.

Square Filled: “it’s not an addiction. it’s a coping mechanism.” (2023) for @spnaubingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Never in your professional career have you ever been late except for today. Your car didn’t want to start this morning so you had to jumpstart it using a portable charger you had lying around from the last time your brother was staying with you. He claims he forgot it but you know he left it there intentionally. He’s always looking out for you whether you want him to or not.

You walk into work clutching your purse and water cup to your chest as you make your way to your desk. Due to the darkness coming from underneath your boss’ door, you assume he’s not in right now. Thank God. You don’t have to confront him after being late. You quickly get settled in and immediately pull up your emails to see what kind of day you’re going to have today.

As the personal assistant to the CEO of Winchester Industries, you always have a lot on your plate. There is seldom any time for yourself at work which is a good thing because that means the day goes by faster. You admire Dean for what he does and the impact he has made not only on the town you live in but in towns across America. He is involved with environmental technologies, medical devices, and the telecommunications sector. He cares so much about the environment that he develops equipment that helps farmers, medical devices mostly for animals, and strengthens the telecommunication sector across America.

He had an idea one day and decided to do something about it instead of waiting for someone else to do it. Now, he’s one of the richest men in the country because of it.

Speaking of the devil, when Dean walks out of the elevator, you’re already halfway through your emails.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he drawls.

“Good morning, Dean.”

“Hey, did you happen to get the contracts for--”

“Already on your desk.”

“What about the proposal for--”

“Already done, waiting for your seal of approval. I also have reached out to Phoenix Zoo and set up a Zoom meeting at ten since their medical equipment broke for their gorilla.”

Dean leans against your desk with a sexy smirk on his face. What you wouldn’t give to see that smirk behind closed doors. If you put aside the fact that you’re his personal assistant, there is one reason why you shouldn’t fall for a man like Dean Winchester. He’s a successful CEO but you know he’s involved with shady shit on the side. You’re not sure what his deal is but you know it isn’t legal. You turn a blind eye to the many times he’s come into work with bloodstains on his stark white shirt.

Maybe you should run. Any sane, logical person would but you’ve never been the one to listen to that side of you.

“What would I do without you?”

“Cry, maybe. This business would crumble without me.”

“Don’t I know it,” he chuckles.

“So, I have two interviews coming in today, both for the marketing department, Dalton Martinez wants to schedule a meeting with you, and--”

“How about this,” he cuts you off, “you take care of the interviews today and I’ll take care of everything else.”

“Okay.”

He walks into his office and you can’t help but watch him leave. He’s such a good-looking man that it’s hard not to fall for his charm. You tried asking what he does in his free time when you saw his bloody shirt for the first time but he refused to talk about it. You haven’t asked him about it since even though you want to.

The two interviews come and go and now you’re stuck at your desk replying to emails, drafting up contracts for Dean, and planning his next work trip. Right when the clock strikes twelve, Dean comes out of his office without his jacket on. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and you vermouth waters at the sight of his white shirt stretching across his broad chest.

“Hey, are you busy for lunch?”

“No.”

“Want to have lunch with me? I’ll be stuck in this office all day.”

“Sure,” you smile. You log out of your computer and grab your lunch bag from the fridge you have underneath your desk. You pass by one of the other ladies on the floor and she tsks when you approach her desk. “What?”

“Be careful not to get involved with him.”

“I’m not. It’s just lunch.”

You walk into Dean’s office who is standing by this floor-length windows with a glass of whiskey in hand.

“Don’t tell me that glass is your lunch.”

“No.” He walks over to his desk, reaches into the mini-fridge, and pulls out a meatball sandwich he made before coming to work. “So, tell me about your day.”

You eye the glass of whiskey on his desk. “Maybe we should talk about your day. Addiction can ruin someone’s life.”

“It’s not an addiction. It’s a coping mechanism.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“I’d rather talk about you. Any plans this weekend?”

“I might need something stronger than water if I’m going to talk about that,” you chuckle.

“Don’t let me stop you.”

You get up and pour yourself a strong drink before downing it in one go. That will be a mistake later but you don’t care. You pour yourself another glass before sitting back down across from him.

“Let me know if this is unprofessional but I haven’t had a date in two years. In the last relationship I was in, he tried to have me killed. I come from very old money but I like to work hard for what I have instead of using what my family gives me every week.”

“I understand,” Dean nods, leaning back in his chair as he listens intently.

“When my ex-boyfriend found out about my money, he wanted it. He wanted to be rich and powerful, but I realized that all he ever wanted from me was money. I was done giving it to him so I broke things off which is when he tried to kill me. I tried to move on but he’s always there to ruin things for me. I kind of gave up on romance and having friends. So, the answer to your question is no, I don’t have any plans this weekend. He won’t let me.”

“What’s his name?”

“Like I’m going to tell you that,” you scoff. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re into some shady shit. I might not know what you do in your free time but I know it’s not legal.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about me. I can handle him, but it’d be really nice if I could just wake up one day and feel free.”

Dean leans forward and rubs his hands together. All he can think about is your life in danger and the mere thought sends him into a rage.

“Listen to me. I want you to call me any time of the day and I will help you if you need it.” You nod. “I need you to promise me.”

“Okay, I promise.”

“Cherry is my safe word.”

You immediately choke on your water and almost spit it out on the ground. You cough as you try to regain your composure while Dean watches with an amused look.

“Excuse me?” you cough.

“When someone I know is in danger, they tell me cherry and I know to drop everything for them. That includes you, too.”

“I don’t think I’ll need it,” you clear your throat, “but I promise to use it if I do.”

The rest of the day goes by smoothly and without issue. Dean has been working hard to get everything done before his work trip to Europe, and you’re working hard to make sure he has everything he needs. He asked you to come but you haven’t given him an answer yet. A whole trip with Dean by yourself? That’s a mistake waiting to happen but it would be nice to go to Europe for a week.

Every day for the remainder of the week, you and Dean have lunch in his office and talk about anything and everything. If you didn’t know him as your boss, you two would have made such great friends… maybe something more. He’s leaving for Europe on Monday so you have at least three days to give him an answer on if you’re going or not. Everything will be paid for so all you have to do is show up at the airport at four in the morning if you want to go.

Maybe…

Friday comes around and you’re staying a bit later than normal to finalize everything he needs for his trip. It’s past eight when you finally get done and you shut your computer down for the weekend. Dean is still in his office when you leave, and you head to the carport where your car is. You’re looking at your phone and not paying attention when someone steps in your way. You stop feeling a set of eyes on you and you look up to see your ex-boyfriend at the entrance of the carport.

“Hey, Y/N, long time no see,” he grins.

You immediately turn and head back to work when you see two of his friends blocking that way. The only way you’re going to get out of this is to use the alleyway next to the building. If you can cut through it, you’ll be on the other side of the carport where your car is. You might be able to make it if you’re quick. Elijah must know what you’re going to do because he starts walking over to you. You jump into action and sprint into the alley with your phone clutched in your hand.

Cherry! Cherry! CHERRY!

You almost run into Elijah because you’re texting Dean, and you nearly fall on your ass while stumbling away from him.

“Why are you running from me? I just want to talk.”

You look behind you and see his two friends right blocking the only other way out of the alley. You turn back to Elijah and notice something black glinting in his hands. He has a gun. Your heart starts to race but you force yourself to keep a clear head.

“What do you want, Elijah? I made myself clear the last time I saw you. I don’t want anything to do with you. Please leave.”

“I will when you give what you owe me.”

“What I owe you?”

“You know the trouble you caused the day you left me? You know me pretty well so you know I don’t tolerate bratty behavior. I think two million dollars will make me forget how you left me. Right, boys?”

One of his friends steps to your back and you freeze in fear when you feel his hot breath on your neck.

“Look at her, Eli, she looks like she’s about to cry,” he grins.

“She’s always been a crybaby.”

“I don’t have what you’re asking. Just leave me alone.” His friend grabs your hand and yanks your head back. “You son of a bitch!”

“Give me what I want and I’ll get out of your hair,” Elijah says and steps closer to you.

“Until you need your next fix, huh? Bite me,” you growl.

His friend lets your hair go and steps back to allow Elijah to deal with you.

“Leave her alone.”

All four of you look at the entrance of the alley to see Dean standing there with a deadly look on his face. He came. He got your message and he’s here. You’re scared that Elijah is going to hurt him even though Dean doesn’t seem the type to be scared of a gun.

“Beat it, old man,” Elijah growls.

“I don’t think you heard me,” Dean chuckles. “Get. Away. From. Her.”

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?” Elijah waves his gun around and you stiffen in fear. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with so just leave before you get put into a body bag.”

“It’s you who will leave in a body bag. Not me.”

Dean takes out a gun from his suit jacket and points it at Elijah. Your ex panics and jumps behind you to use you as a shield, and he presses the barrel of the gun into the side of your head.

“Yeah? What about now?”

“Dean,” you whimper in fear.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m very good at what I do.”

“Get back! I’ll shoot her!” Elijah yells. “She’ll be dead and it’ll be because of you!”

Dean aims his gun at Elijah and pulls the trigger. The shot causes both of his friends to scatter knowing you’re not worth the trouble. Blood sprays on your neck just as you scream in terror. Elijah’s grip on you loosens and he falls back onto the ground. You’re about to fall yourself but Dean is quick to catch you. You’re shaking like a leaf in his arms, and he uses the sleeves of his white shirt to wipe the blood off your neck.

“You’re safe, sweetheart.” You look around frantically, having not heard him. “You’re in shock right now but you’re safe. I didn’t shoot you.”

“What?” you ask and finally look at him.

“I didn't shoot you. You’re safe. He will never bother you again.” You try to look at your ex on the ground behind you but Dean grabs the sides of your face to stop you from doing so. “I told you, I’m very good at my job.” You put your head on his chest and cry, and he smooths down your hair. “Do you live alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Not tonight, you won’t. You’ll stay with me.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Thank you,” you say as Dean is bringing you back to his office.

“You don’t ever have to thank me. I will always be here if you need me.”

Yeah, falling for him is inevitable. It’s going to happen whether you want it to or not so may as well run with it instead of fight it.

x

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[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

My Favorite Pet

Tease Me (2)

BDSM Preformer!Fem!Reader! X subby! Wanda

Summary: You find yourself alone in bed, but that's okay because you can smell breakfast

Warnings: None! Here you all go have some fluffy morning after loving.

Word Count: 1,570

A/N: I promise pt 3 is going to be full of smut once more, but I wanted to explore their morning after.

You woke up to the smell of bacon stretching out on your king sized bed. Your back is popping after a week of staying on Kate and Yelena’s couch. You fell asleep on the couch, right? Did Wanda move both of you in here?

You got up feeling cold from only wearing a tank top and shorts to bed, grabbing one of your throw blankets and making your way out to the kitchen to find Wanda there, swaying her hips to music as she made breakfast. You smirked and watched her for a moment before speaking up,

“Damn I could get used to this.” you startle her a bit with your voice, but she sees you smiling. You saw the blush on her face as you walked over, wrapping your arms around her waist and looking up.

“I tried waking you up earlier, but you refused so I figured I'd start making breakfast for you Mommy.” Her voice was so soft right now. You were an absolute menace to try and wake in the morning.

“You don't have to call me that outside of the club or the bedroom. Please just call me by my name.” you lean up on your tiptoes to kiss her.

“Are you sure? All my previous-” You cut her off before she can finish that sentence.

“Wanda. I'm sure.” you tell her putting emphasis on her name. “Outside those spaces you're Wanda and I'm Y/N. We are two people and not just our roles.” She simply nods and you kiss her again.

“Okay well Y/N I've made breakfast I hope you like bacon, eggs, and pancakes.” Wanda smiled and so did you.

“I love those things. I'll grab the juices and milk.” You untangled yourself from her grabbing out the pitchers for the two of you.

As the two of you sat and ate you talked about a lot of things and got to know each other better. Conversation with her seemed to flow easily between the two of you. You had never felt this way before. You were typically a guarded person especially after her though opening up didn’t even feel like you were. Instead it felt more like getting reacquainted with an old friend.

“So you have this place because of working at the club right?” Wanda asked looking around my spacious penthouse.

“Yeah Tasha helped me get it originally since it was close to the club and honestly I came from nothing. My parents were poor when I was a kid, but it was by choice. Neither of my parents wanted to work and didn't care that my brother and I were starving. I took care of my brother and raised him. He lived with me for a bit and still comes by, but he went off and became a businessman. He's climbed the ladder to almost being the CEO of the company he works for.” You’re reminded of just how different you and your brother turned out.

“You must be proud of him.” you smile, pushing around the little food left on your plate.

“I am. Sometimes I wonder if he feels the same about me.” You admit solemnly.

“I'm sure he understands that without you doing this he wouldn't have been able to be where he is. You paid for his college right?”

“Yeah through the fucking teeth…” you definitely didn't want to mention fucking the dean to get him in or lowering his tuition rates.

“Then I'm sure he understands. My brother on the other hand is just as bad as me. He creates, designs, and builds BDSM gear like beds and crosses and shit. He's really good at it and runs his own business with a couple of his buddies.” Wanda told you.

“Hmmm I'd love to meet him. I have a spare room I've always wanted to turn into a playroom.” Wanda blushed a scarlet red. You wanted to keep teasing her, but your phone was going off,

“Ughhhhhhhhh!” you picked it up quickly changing your tone, “Hi Tasha. You’re interrupting my breakfast so please make it quick.”

“Wow rude and here I thought you had a good night.” she responded, but you could tell she was smiling.

“Oh I did so good in fact it has continued into breakfast so again if you could make it quick.” I snip at her really not wanting to do this until later.

“Of course it has. Finally back on the horse I see. Well that’s good, anyways since you’re both there I expect to see you tonight.” you rolled your eyes.

“Of course you do. Were people asking for us?” you put the call on speaker.

“Of course they were. You two gave the best performance last night. You’re lucky I’m nice and let you keep all those tips. Most places would take some from you especially with how much you made last night.” you chuckled at her words. As tough as Tasha could be on you she was also soft; she knew you too good at this point.

“Well thank you Tasha for taking such good care of us. When will we be preforming tonight?”

“Opener and then a solo from each of you later in the night once aftercare is done let me know and we’ll work you in.” You could hear the sound of her typing in the background probably trying to figure out the schedule of performers for tonight.

“Okay Tasha. We’ll be there for 5.”

“Okay once your solos are done you’re free to go tonight because Friday I want you two to do multiple shows.” You groan a bit doing multiple shows was always hard for you. It takes a lot out of you to go from Dom to not to Dom again.

“Fine...” You replied reluctantly to your best friend. You knew she heard your tone, but chose not to call you out on it.

“Okay I’ll see you two tonight and I’m glad you found someone again Y/N/N.” You rolled your eyes. Trying to take the phone off speaker before Wanda could hear it.

“Yup kay bye.” You hung up, throwing your phone over onto the couch.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” Wanda asked concerned.

“Nothing amor. I just get frustrated sometimes. It’s not that I don’t like this job because I do. It’s the only thing I’ve ever known it’s just difficult for me sometimes. I have to get into the right headspace. Also I’m not going to lie doing more than one show in a night can be exhausting and I want to make sure you have a good time. I’ve just never been good with multi show nights.” Wanda reached across the table, holding your hand,

“Everything is going to work out fine because this time you’ll have me.” She was smiling, biting her lip as her nose scrunched up.

“You are absolutely beautiful amor. I am so lucky...” You let your words trail off. All Wanda is, is my stage partner, nothing more, and you feel yourself curl into yourself ever so slightly as you retract your hand.

You see her searching your face as to why you pulled away, “Sorry did I do or say something wrong?” Wanda asked and you felt a pit in your stomach.

“No, no meu amor. I just get stuck in my own head. I’m sorry. I have a lot going on with myself and sometimes I’m my own worst enemy. If I ever start pulling away just pull me back harder please?” Wanda is speechless for a moment. “I-if you want to that is you don’t-“ Wanda pushes aside her plate and then your own, climbing on the dining room table and making her way into your lap.

“I’ll pull you so deep you’ll be drowning in me and forget all your problems.” Wanda husked against your lips, making you lean up, chasing her lips for a kiss as she keeps pulling back until you’re whining,

“Wands...” You were pouting and looking up at her, “Please?” She smirked and finally let you kiss her, melting against her as you sighed into it. You needed this, you needed her. You need her? How are you so deep already? How did she do this to you?

“Y/N/N?”

“Hmmm?” You let your eyes flit open and look up at her.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, never had a partner like you. Before last night I thought everything I’d experienced with a Dom was normal...I don’t think...no I know I don’t ever want to go back to that. I know it’s a little forward of me, but would you please continue to be my dom as well as a partner I can rely on?” You reached up and cupped her cheeks.

“If we’re being forward then I’d like to answer your question with a question. I would like to be those things and more so would you be my girlfriend?” You ask, feeling so nervous until she crashes her lips into yours, her hips rolling against you, moaning out at the feeling as you grab her hips.

“Yes. Yes I’d love that.” She husks out against your lips and this is a moment you want to remember forever, every part of it. The sound of her voice, the faint smell of breakfast, her vanilla perfume, the way her lips taste and feel against you, the pressure of her hips and your nails digging into them.

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 19

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

AN: Deep breaths, my friends. We’re almost to the end. ❤️

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Violence, peril, blood and guns, character death…

Part 19: “Sacrifice”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted…but you didn’t answer.

“You there?” he asked. There was a pit forming in his stomach when he glanced up at John. His father met his gaze with furrowed brows that betrayed concern.

The line was silent for one more painful moment. Dean opened his mouth to call out to you again, but a smooth voice interrupted.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” a man replied. “Forgetting something?”

Dean’s heart began to pound. His mouth parted, but for a moment, the words wouldn’t escape.

“Who is this?” he said. His voice was a hint unsteady.

“I think you know, son,” the man replied.

Dean’s wide eyes flicked up to John’s, and the other man sprang into action. He shot a look and a whispered order at Cas, who went running for some IP tracking equipment back in the police car.

Meanwhile, John guided Dean to sit down on the couch. Sam followed them on his brother’s right, while John sat on Dean’s left.

Dean put the phone on speaker between the three of them.

“You’re Daniel Savage, huh?” Dean said. He tried to inject some more control into his tone, like he wasn’t freaking the fuck out. “Man, do I feel special.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Dean-o. I’m doing the same thing your dad’s doing. Hooking the bigger fish.”

Dean’s lips pursed. He glanced at his father, but his attention on the phone turned steely.

“What the hell do you want?” he asked. “Your lackey’s on lockdown. So’s your bastard son. If you want to help him, I’d suggest you turn your ass over to the cops.”

“Yes, Nick’s an idiot. But family, right?” said Daniel. He breathed out a sigh.

But then his voice was firm and calculating. It made Dean’s skin crawl.

“Cards on the table, son. Your daddy’s got something of mine. I’ve got something of yours.”

Dean’s face hardened, but John raised a placating hand; a warning to keep calm. Dean tried to take a breath.

His heart clenched at the mere thought of you being in the same room with that man. Having been taken and hauled to God knows where. He couldn’t imagine how scared you were. And if you were hurt…

Fuck. There was a roiling pit forming in his stomach, his head starting to pound in time with his heartbeat.

Already Cas was back with a laptop and program designed to track the caller’s phone. He connected a USB-like cord to Dean's phone and began fiddling with the settings, trying to get a read. Dean knew he had to keep this fucker talking.

“You have her with you?” he asked.

“Sure do. She’s a pretty little thing.”

Dean’s jaw clenched in a furious glare. “Don’t you fucking touch her, you son of a bitch.”

“Quid pro quo, Dean. What can you do for me?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, as desperation began to escape him. “There’s no way they’re letting Nick go before the trial. It’s out of my dad’s hands.”

“Your dad has no real evidence that my son is anything more than a successful businessman,” said Daniel. “If you really need someone to pin these unfortunate murders on, you had your man in custody…but, oh wait. You gave him immunity.”

Dean’s eyes were desperate when they met Sam’s worried ones, then their father’s. It didn’t matter that John and Cas did have evidence besides Alastair’s testimony. All Dean cared about was you.

He swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. It’s what I want John to do.”

Dean took a moment to close his eyes, pull himself together. His hands squeezed his knees to brace himself. When he next opened his eyes, he let out a sharp breath.

“What do you want then? Aside from Nick somehow breaking loose,” he asked.

“I want your dad to back the fuck off, once and for all,” Daniel said. His voice was more edged, with both warning and a hint of frustration. “Or I’ll make his son live the same pathetic existence he does.”

Dean’s next breath came out harsher, as both John and Sam sharpened at the threat.

“That’s right, Dean. These are my terms of engagement, else I’m gonna have a bonfire with your girl here.” 

It all gripped Dean at once.

Panic, anger, and desperation.

He grabbed the phone and spoke harshly into the speaker.

“Put her on the damn line," he said. "I wanna hear her and know this isn’t a trick.”

Daniel sighed, like he was getting bored. “Oh, all right.”

There was some shuffling, the sound of Daniel’s steps echoing in what sounded like a large room. Dean’s brows furrowed as he heard sounds of your struggle, then your labored breaths, as if a gag had been removed from your mouth.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Go ahead and talk to him,” said Daniel.

Soon enough, your tremulous voice reached him.

“Dean?” you said. You sounded like you were fighting tears; maybe even losing. Dean’s heart broke all the more for it.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay,” you said, though your voice shook. He hoped you weren’t lying for his sake.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He raised a fist to his mouth, ignoring how it shook. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m going to find you—”

All too soon, the phone was taken away from you.

“Rule number one of negotiations, kid. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Dean’s eyes widened. The next thing he heard was a hard slap. It echoed into the speaker, along with your shout of both surprise and pain, a chair toppling over.

“You fucking bastard!” Dean seethed. “When I find you—”

John interrupted this time, taking the cell phone from Dean. He shot his son a look that was meant to be reassuring, but Dean was too incensed. Sam gripped his shoulder and earned his brother’s gaze. Dean’s chest heaved with the effort of calming his breathing.

“What do you want?” John said into the phone. His voice was clipped and direct.

While he continued to speak, Cas was frowning in frustration over his laptop.

“Anything?” Sam asked.

“I can’t get a lock on his signal. He must have something throwing off the scanner,” Cas replied.

Dean growled in frustration and pushed off the couch. He began to pace the living room, all while he tried to keep an ear on what John was saying lowly into the phone.

By the time he hung up, Dean was raging.

“Fuck this, I’m gonna find her,” he said. John tried to stop him from going anywhere with a hand on his shoulder. Dean knocked him off angrily. Sam also stood, for once on the same page as his father, no matter how much he sympathized.

“Dean, you need to calm down,” John tried.

It was the wrong thing to say.

“I didn’t ask for this!” Dean shouted. The force of it echoed on the apartment walls. “Matter of fact, I’ve never asked you for a damn thing until now. Only that you’d keep me in the loop on Azazel, and keep her out of this. But you couldn’t even do that, could you?”

Sam was at a loss, looking between his father and brother. Cas was also caught in between, watching the scene with concern, and bated breath.

John’s broad shoulders sunk a bit, along with the deep breath he expelled.

“You’re right,” John said. "You're right, son. And I'm sorry."

His eyes held the weight of his words. Of sincerity. And by degrees, Dean’s anger lessened.

Again, not by much.

“Let’s fix it,” said John. “Once and for all.”

Dean wasn’t fully recovered from his TBI. He’d been cleared for driving, but not yet for full physical exercise, let alone going back to work. The stress of all this was giving him a powerful headache, but there was no way he was going to be sidelined now, on any part of it.

Sam was forced to withdraw the case against Nick Savage, citing lack of evidence to support a trial at this time. The judge gave Sam permission to refile when he was able to build a better case.

John was then tasked with escorting Nick out of prison. Cas, meanwhile, was sitting in his personal car outside the county jail with Dean in the passenger seat. Cas didn’t trust what his friend would do behind the wheel once he saw Nick.

“What happens after Nick gets out?” Dean asked. “Dad’s been cagey about the whole deal.”

“We’re escorting him to the airport,” Cas said. “There we’ll wait for Daniel and make the exchange.”

Nick, for you. That was the deal.

“And then?” Dean asked, his teeth already clenching.

Cas blew out a sigh. “We’ll have a unit waiting on standby. We’re going to try and get ahold of whoever has her, though I doubt Daniel will come himself.”

“What if you can’t catch him?” Dean pressed.

Cas didn’t want to have to tell his friend something he didn’t want to hear, but he didn’t make a habit of lying to Dean. He wasn’t about to start now.

“Then it’s over, for now,” he replied. “We each go back to our corners and regroup.”

“Dad’ll never stop hunting this guy,” Dean said.

“That may be,” Cas nodded. “But he does have a line.”  

“My father’s an obsessed bastard,” Dean groused. “He doesn’t have a damn line.”

Cas looked over at him then. He was calm and sympathetic, and yet, still disagreeing in his silence. Dean knew he was probably wrong, but in the moment, he didn’t care. He was still angry.

He perked up, however, when the prison doors slid open. Out came John escorting Nick and his lawyer, Amelia. Nick looked as smug as ever now that his cuffs were off. He was given the clothes he was arrested in—a blue silk shirt, pants, Italian leather shoes, and a silver Rolex watch.

Screw this, Dean thought. He unlocked the car from his side and climbed out. He didn’t care that he could hear Cas mutter a curse behind him and follow suit.

Nick saw Dean coming and couldn’t help but smirk, even as John grasped his arm and led him to his police car.

“Hey, fireman,” Nick taunted with his waggling brows. “Where’s our girl?”

Dean’s lips edged at a dangerous smile. Cas came up just behind him, ready to restrain him if need be.

“You can finesse your way out of this, but remember our little chat,” Dean said. His eyes burned with a thinly veiled threat. “Not a dime in this world can protect you from me.”

Nick pretended to shiver.

“Ooh, I’m so fucking scared,” he snarked. He resisted John’s manhandling and ripped his arm out of the other man’s grasp to step further into the open, leaving just a few yards between him and Dean.

“You can’t touch me,” Nick taunted. “You won’t dare. Not unless you want—”

Three shots rang out in the open clearing.

All heads ducked, but Dean’s eyes widened. He watched Nick crumple to the ground as scarlet red plumed in the man’s silk shirt. The shock etched on his face drained along with his life, leaving blue eyes staring up at a clear sky.

Forensics at the scene found traces of a sniper on the rooftop of a building directly across from the county jail.

John and Cas already were mounting an entire unit search in locating Alastair Rolston, but he had apparently moved out of his apartment as soon as he was released from prison with his immunity deal. (The police officers escorting him into witness protection had been found dead at the scene of his designated safe house.)

The detectives were later called into the medical examiner’s office on the case of Nick Savage—not to examine the body, but the bullets that had carved into his heart, right lung, and throat.

One of the bullets had a special casing. Inside was a rolled-up note, not unlike a carrier pigeon. It had a simple message:

JOHN — STULL STORAGE. COME ALONE.

Once again, Dean refused to sit idly. He’d pushed back hard enough that John had eventually relented. This time, however, Sam stepped in to make sure his brother was reigned in. Dean’s knee was already bouncing with anticipation and nervousness.

It was nearly midnight on a Tuesday. The brothers sat in the surveillance van with Jody Mills, all wearing protective Kevlar vests as precaution. The van was removed from the immediate site of Stull Storage, which was made up of a main warehouse and several rows of storage units on the other side. 

Cas was leading another police unit on standby, but John was going into the warehouse. He wore his usual leather jacket over his rumpled shirt, pants, and boots, but also a protective vest and hidden wire under his collar.

Sam, Dean, and Jody were able to listen in as John entered alone.

He had a flashlight positioned over his raised gun as he walked into the building. He found some light switches along the wall and was able to turn on half the room’s fluorescent ceiling lights.

He heard a whimper.

Moving towards the sound cautiously, John soon found you tied to a chair. You looked a bit worse for wear; though you were dressed for an interview in black slacks and a blouse, your hair was in disarray, your cheek still sported a fading red mark, and you likely had other bumps and bruises.

Your eyes widened with hope when you saw John. You made sounds of surprise around the gag tied in your mouth, but he shushed you with a finger held to his lips.

He went over to you after lowering his gun, cocking back the safety, and re-holstering. He went to untie the gag first. You breathed deeply when it was gone.

“You okay?” he asked, touching your arm in comfort.

“Yeah,” you nodded, but your widening eyes still darted behind him.

Another safety clicked back. John immediately drew his gun again and turned. He was met with the man of the hour.

Standing mere feet away with his own gun was Daniel Savage. AKA: Azazel.

“Ooh, you’re getting old, John,” he said with a smirk. “Wasn’t expecting to get the drop on you so easily.”

John subtly moved so he was standing in front of you. He hadn't had time to untie you from the chair. Your breathing came out shallow as you tried to spy around John to your captor.

“Daniel,” John greeted. “It’s about time, wouldn’t you say?”

“You cheated though,” said Daniel, despite his cocky smirk. Like father like son. “I know you’ve got a team waiting in the wings.”

“If you wanna get technical, you cheated first,” John pointed out.

Daniel shrugged. Behind him came around ten of his own hired men, armed with their own guns. “Hate the player, hate the game, my friend.”

John’s lips pursed, but he didn’t lower his gun. He had a straight shot at Daniel’s chest.

“Even if you do get off a shot, you’ll be Swiss cheese where you stand,” Daniel said. 

“Small price to pay for ending your miserable fucking life,” John remarked.

Daniel’s brows rose. “Are you gonna make her pay for it too?”

He gestured behind John, where he glanced back at your face. Your red-rimmed eyes were shining with tears. And John knew that once his gun fired, his body would hit the ground. Yours wouldn’t be far behind.

His brows furrowed, and the hands holding his weapon wavered.

“So how you do think this is gonna play out?” John asked.

“Well, for starters, you’re going to drop that damn gun,” said Daniel. He cocked his own weapon. “Then, you’re going to get down on your knees and take this bullet, like putting down a rabid dog. Then maybe, I’ll let her go before the cops rush in.”

John’s hesitation was mere seconds. He clicked the safety back on. He set down his gun, and lowered to his knees in slow movements.

Your eyes widened further as incredulous tears slipped down your cheeks. You shook your head.

“Don’t!” you said shakily. 

John didn’t look back at you this time, but he did answer you.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he said.

Daniel’s grim smile made you shiver.

“What a caring father-in-law,” he said, and he slowly stalked forward. “You know, I prided myself on delegating my operations well. Oh, it was a well-oiled machine back in the day. But some things…well, some things are just better handled yourself. Know what I mean?”

He tilted his head down at John.

“For example: I really regret the way I had your wife killed,” he said. “For all the trouble you’ve given me, I wish I’d actually burned the bitch myself.”

John glared up at the man with pure fury and hatred.

Though his eyes widened when the first shot split the air, and buried a bullet in Daniel’s left arm. Daniel shouted in pain as he unconsciously dropped his gun. John dove for it, and everything started to happen at once.

Daniel kicked at John’s chest while holding his wounded arm, tossing the other man back. John rolled onto his feet, and their full out brawl began. Meanwhile, a unit of police officers swarmed into the warehouse and sparked a shootout with Daniel’s men.

And in all of this, Cas came out from behind your line of vision to untie you. He wore a protective vest over his usual white dress shirt, now rolled up to the elbows.

“Cas!” you gasped. He gave you a smile, then used a pocketknife to cut through the zip ties holding your wrists behind you and your ankles to the chair.

“Come on, let’s go.” He helped you up and guided you out the back of the warehouse.

The last coherent sound Sam and Dean heard was a bullet fired and hitting its target. They couldn’t tell if it was John or Daniel that had been hit, or even you.

Above all things, Dean was a man of action.

He just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck this,” he growled. He got to his feet and went for the door of the surveillance van, but while Jody voiced her protest, it was Sam who reached him first.

“Dean, stop! You can’t go out there!” Sam said.

“The hell I can’t,” Dean said. The punch he reared back and threw was precise when it cracked Sam in the cheek. He went down hard. It was all Jody could do to keep him from knocking his head on the metal floor, but Sam was out cold, with his hair flopped over his face.

"Dean!" Jody yelled after him. She stared after the open door of the van with wide, worried eyes.

There were rows upon rows of storage units behind the warehouse. It felt like a maze in itself, one that you and Cas were forced to navigate alone in the crisp January night. Both of you saw your breath on the air as you tried to move quickly, but quietly.

Until a long arm reached out on the other side of a unit, and a hand closed on Cas’s gun, pushing it down and ripping it out of his hands. An elbow cracked into his face, making him grunt and stumble.

Your scream of surprise echoed in the night. You stared up into the familiar face of Alastair, whose mouth formed a sly grin.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he said.

Cas distracted him with a blow that Alastair blocked, but it gave Cas room to break the taller man’s stance and knock his head against the unit wall—once, twice, until the man stumbled and fell. He wasn’t knocked out, but Cas didn’t wait for Alastair to recover. He grabbed you and forced you to run.

“I thought he was in protective custody for the trial,” you said, through huffing breaths.

“Evidently he escaped,” Cas replied.

“God, Cas. You really need to hand out some pink slips,” you said, with a tremor in your voice. The police were supposed to have been watching you as well, before you were kidnapped. Cas conceded your point.

“We really shouldn’t have given him immunity,” he grumbled.

Dean knew he was being some kind of idiot.

Knew it as he carefully approached a side door of the warehouse. His vest wouldn’t protect his whole body if he entered the no man’s land shootout he could hear happening on the other side of the door.

Already he could see policemen escorting some of Azazel’s captured team around the front exit. Dean kept to the shadows, and he cracked the side door open.

There was still plenty going on inside. A few bodies were already strewn across the dusty warehouse floor. Large crates stacked up to the ceiling offered meager protection for both sides of the siege, including Dean as he kept to the wall and slid his way inside and behind a formation of wooden crates. He scanned the room until he found his dad.

John was fighting hand-to-hand with who had to be Daniel Savage. Even though the latter had blood dripping from his arm, John had his share of bruises and scrapes, including a long cut across his cheek from the knife clenched in Daniel’s non-injured right hand.

What the hell do I do? Dean assessed the situation, his eyes darting quickly between the men. He came in here without a weapon (another smart move). He went through most of the training a million years ago, but Dean wasn’t a police officer. He was a firefighter.

However, when he spotted a forgotten Glock on the floor, just a few yards away where the men were still tousling, Dean inched his way closer. He’d have to leave the relative safety of the crates and throw himself out into the open to reach the gun. At this point, Daniel was closer.

And he’d noticed the gun too, at the same time that John glanced up and saw his son. His eyes widened, and just for a moment he lost his grip on Daniel. The other man went for the gun at the same time Dean dove.

John yanked Daniel back by his collar and kneed him in the stomach. But Daniel had the longer reach. He cracked an elbow into John’s face and followed by a swift punch to the gut. John grunted and doubled over at the impact to his already battered ribs and stomach.

Daniel threw him head-first into a pile of nearby crates. He was breathing hard, but his lips twitched in satisfaction at the way John fell into a heap of broken wood. The detective was clearly waning.

Daniel stalked forward. Ignoring his still bleeding shoulder, he grabbed John by the jacket and collar of his shirt and hefted him up to his feet, prepared to deliver another blow. The cocking of a nearby gun made him pause. But in a moment, he twisted John in front him with an arm wrapped around his neck to face his next attacker.

While Daniel had been distracted, Dean had managed to dive and roll across the concrete, scooping up the gun on his way back onto his feet. Now he’d had the time to take aim and wait for his moment, which was right fucking now.

Slowly, Daniel tilted his head to look past John’s shoulder. He was met with Dean’s smirk and a gun pointed directly at his head.

“I think I’ve got something of yours,” Dean remarked. His fingers slid over the trigger.

Daniel tilted his head. A dry smile edged at the corner of his lips. “All right, Dean. Well played. But…”

He tightened his arm around John’s throat and held the knife poised at his neck.

“We’re at what you’d call an impasse, don’t you think?” Daniel asked.

“Dean,” John said. He met his eldest’s gaze as uncertainly crept into Dean’s stance. His hand was still held aloft, but there was an almost imperceptible shake.

“Just shoot him,” said John, with full conviction. “Don’t worry about me.”

Dean’s mouth pressed into a line, his brows furrowing. He wasn’t doing that.

“See, I don’t think he’s got it in ‘im,” Daniel said, speaking lowly in John’s ear. His knife tightened against John’s neck. “You’re out of your fucking depth, Dean.”

Dean flinched as a bullet zoomed past his head from across the room. He was reminded that there was still a fight going on, and the three of them were very much out in the open. John’s face turned more urgent, with thinly veiled worry.

“Dean, either shoot him or get the hell out of here,” he said tersely.

“I’m not leaving,” Dean said, with a small, stubborn shake of his head. But he was nervous. Despite how close he’d come with Nick Savage, Dean had never shot at someone, let alone taken a life. The gun was heavy in his hand.

“Running out of time, son,” Daniel taunted.

“I’m not your fucking son,” Dean gritted out. “Speaking of, did you have Alastair do your dirty work, taking out Nick, or did you pull that trigger yourself?”

Daniel’s smirk faded, his gaze tightening with resignation.

“Sacrifices, Dean,” he said. “We make ‘em to survive. To make sure our legacies survive.”

Dean’s eyes widened as he looked at this man, and he finally understood what his dad had been trying to tell him.

He ain’t a man. He’s a monster.

The gun was heavy in his hand…

“Come on, Dean!” Daniel shouted. “Make a decision—”

Dean still remembered most things he’d learned at the Police Academy. He’d lived, ate, sweat, and breathed those drills and tests for months. And yet, there was only one score he’d truly been proud of. It was the one record of his dad’s that he’d managed to beat.

You could guess which one.

Dean let his fingers squeeze the trigger on some instinct he couldn’t name. Daniel was forced to choke on his words.

Cas pulled you around the corner of a storage unit that blocked the light of the moon. It was just in time for a bullet to rip past where his head used to be.

You leaned heavily against the wall and heaved for breath, but Cas held a finger to his lips while he tried to calm his own breathing.

You held a hand over your mouth to try and stifle the sounds from getting out. Your eyes were wide and panicked, but Cas could only reassure you with a brief hand on your shoulder. He nodded and signaled with his free hand. Wait.

You gave a jerky nod in return. So he reached for his belt and brandished the only weapon he had left—the knife he’d used to cut through your bonds. The air was quiet, except for the distant shouts of police officers; it sounded like Azazel’s men were finally being rounded up.

Cas had called for backup earlier, but he didn’t think they could wait for it. Nor would he know if they were coming. He’d long since turned off the radio on his belt so that it couldn’t tip off his position with you.

He chanced looking around the wall of the storage unit. The coast looked clear, though he knew it wasn’t. Still, the best Cas could hope for was to cover you on the way back to the police barricade. He leaned back and reached for you. He guided you, both with his eyes and a hand on your back.

On the count of three, run, he mouthed. You wordlessly agreed. He saw the fear shining in your eyes.

One…two…

An arm shot out to grab Castiel’s collar the moment he stepped out from his cover, making you scream. The first punch came swift; Alastair was taller, perhaps stronger, but Cas recovered quickly.

He ducked the other man’s arm and delivered an uppercut that had his adversary careening back. With a well-placed jab to the wrist, Alastair’s gun clattered away across the ground.

Cas managed to shoot you a quick look. “Run. Now!”

You paused for a mere moment while Cas continued to grapple with Alastair. Then, in your frozen fear, you finally managed flight. And you took off running, even though Alastair tried to grab at your hair. Cas held him back and continued the fight.

You’d only managed a few yards of distance though, before you couldn’t help but look back. Something in you just couldn’t leave Cas behind.

You took cover behind another storage unit and watched Alastair slowly get the upper hand. He managed to pin Cas against the ribbed metal wall of a unit. He winced as it dug into his spine, but he had bigger problems.

He spat blood after the third blow to his jaw and tried to blink dark spots of his vision. Alastair looked down on him with the lean look of a predator. His smile betrayed the enjoyment he took in his work.

“Contrary to what you might think, I’ve never killed a cop before,” he said. “Just a cop’s wife.”

Cas’s eyes widened a fraction. Alastair’s smile deepened. He raised a bloody fist to finish his work, but he winced and weakened with a shout as a knife embedded deep in his thigh.

It was Cas’s knife that you’d found on the ground.

Alastair’s angry eyes looked down and met your scared ones. You let go of the knife and scrambled back. He backhanded you roughly. You cried out and fell hard on the pavement.

Alastair reached for the knife, but Cas grabbed it first. He twisted as he yanked it out, then jabbed it into the taller man’s neck. It choked his scream as he stumbled back. And yet, even that didn’t manage to kill him.

Cas dove for the fallen gun. It was mere feet away from where he’d forced it out of Alastair’s grip. Cas felt a hand grab his shoulder. He reacted fast—he turned and shot two rounds of hot led into Alastair’s gut.

His gray eyes went wide. Blood gurgled in his mouth.

And slowly, Alastair slid to the ground.

Cas was bloody, his shirt stained and torn, but he was still standing with ragged breath. You had managed to sit up, though your shocked eyes were trained on the body you’d just seen fall into a heap. The horrific spell of it broke when Cas gently touched your shoulder.

You gasped and raised your head.

“It’s okay,” he said, reaching a hand to you. “It’s over.”

Cas escorted you back to the police barricade. There you found Sam, and the mere sight of him relieved you so much you didn’t realize you were crying when you stepped into his embrace. He hugged you tight and asked if you were all right.

You couldn’t give him an honest answer, but at least you were alive.

“I’m okay,” you said tremulously, but you pulled back at grasped his arms. “Where’s Dean?”

Sam looked anxious as his gaze flit between you and Cas.

“That goddamn idiot, he went in there! They won’t let me through—”

“What?” Cas said incredulously. “Into the warehouse?”

Your tears fell anew as a new frantic worry took hold, churning in your stomach and making you feel sick. You turned, and both Cas and Sam had to stop you from heading towards the warehouse.

“Get him out of there!” you cried. “Dean!”

You tried to push past Cas and his attempts to calm you, but you stopped the moment you saw him…

Dean was helping John limp out of the warehouse. Jody was on John’s other side, supporting him as well. John looked beat to hell, and exhausted, but there was no mistaking the calm look on his face. Like he’d finally sleep tonight.

Dean, on the other hand, looked pale, haggard, and worried. However, his head perked up as soon as he heard your voice. His eyes widened. He turned to Jody to make sure she could support John on her own, and she nodded at him.

It let Dean make his way straight for you.

Sam and Cas finally released you, like a horse waiting to bolt out of the stables. Your tears blurred your vision as you went to him.

When Dean swept you up into his arms, you were able to throw yours around his neck and cling to him for all you were worth. You buried your face into his neck and sobbed your relief.

You wouldn’t know that Dean’s eyes were shining and red, his mouth trembling slightly as he sucked in a breath and held you as tight as he dared. His hand came up to cup the back of your head, over your wild hair. His lips pressed to the side of your head as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“You okay?” he asked, when he was able to speak.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, though his question prompted you to pull back and find his face. Your heels came back to the ground, and you reached up to stroke his cheek and search his gaze.

“What about you?” you asked tremulously. “Your head?”

“’M fine,” he said. Though the truth was, he was reeling. His ears still rung from the bullet that hit Daniel between the eyes.

The weight of that decision was almost too fresh to be real, but it was heavy on Dean all the same. He could even get in legal trouble for this. He wasn’t supposed to have entered that building. Hell, he’d picked up a gun and shot a man.

Though he already knew what Sam would say.

Justification. Imminent danger. Self-defense.

Dean just didn’t know if that would fly here, especially with the Fire Department.

Right now, however, you were his lifeline. You grounded him in reality when you held his face in your hands. Just beyond you, he could see the relief on both Sam and Cas’s faces.

Dean gave them a smile, but he focused back on you. He held your hand to his cheek.

“Promise me you’re gonna stay put for a while,” he quipped. “Preferably where I can see you.”

You scoffed at him through the tears glittering in your eyes.

“Dean Winchester, if that isn’t the most hypocritical thing that’s ever come out of your mouth!” you said, punctuating your words with a slap on his chest.

“Hey!” he protested, but you ignored him. You gripped his shirt and felt the Kevlar underneath. It might’ve protected his chest, but he hadn’t had anything to protect his damn head.

“You run into fires, not bullets, you idiot,” you said, now wiping frustrated tears from your cheek.

Dean’s tension began to ease with a smile. He held you more securely, pulling you flush against him.

“You sound like Bobby,” he teased.

“Good!” you snapped. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that. Do you hear m—?”

He didn’t think he’d ever miss you giving him shit, but this time, it just made him smile until the corners of his eyes crinkled. Shortly before he cut you off with a searing kiss.

You made a sound of surprise, even as you gripped at his shirt, then his face to keep him there. You both knew this night was long from being over. An even longer way from recovering.

But for now, this was a good start.

AN: And so, we're drawing near to the end. 🥹 What did you think of the respective ends of Nick and Daniel Savage, and even Alastair? And of course, her and Dean's reunion. 💗

Soon (this weekend), we have the epilogue...

Next Time:

“So…I’ve gotta tell you something,” said Dean, after he parted from your lips for a moment, and allowed you to breathe. His tone made you tilt your head in suspicion.

“It’s nothing bad,” he said, though he looked a bit nervous.

Your brows furrowed. You led him to the couch, where he took your hands in his. It took him a moment to get started. He seemed stuck on what he wanted to say, or maybe just how he wanted to say it.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it,” you teased.

Dean gave you a smile. His shoulders relaxed a little...

Keep Reading: THE EPILOGUE

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

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[rincewinds-hat]

picture this: destiel mama mia au. Dean (who, for this plot will be trans masc and also why not) and his brother Sam move to an island in Greece to get away from their toxic father. Dean meets amd falls for several men in the first few months - Benny, a sailor from Luisiana who's writing a book about his journeys; Crowley, a businessman who he didn't get along with at first but ended up having a fling with (Crowley development feelings, but Dean didn't); and Castiel, an architect who's been following a plan his whole life, and coming here and being with Dean has showed him free will and actual love (but he has to go back, because despite everything he still wants to be accepted and loved by his family). Suddenly, they all reunite when Jack (Dean's child) is having his 18 birthday party

Edit: it took 6 reblogs (2 of them with tags/ text, love yall for that) and 27 likes. I will start writing it tonight, updates soon

[jadeazora]

I would say D.C. Douglas (Masters) is my favorite of the English VAs for Lysandre and feels the most consistently-good in his deliveries, with the Generations one (Dean Wein) being my least favorite.

(I feel like the XYZ one voiced by H.D. Quinn does have a few flat deliveries not shown here, but I like how warm he sounds while chatting with Mairin and Alain when he's pretending to be a totally normal businessman--it makes him so much more unsettling because we know how dangerous he actually is--and when he goes hard, he really goes hard. Dean didn't get the opportunity to really pop off as much 😅 Like, fuck, listen to that snarl in his tone from the last XYZ clip I use.)

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 26: Hum

The hum of the airplane rattles Dean down to his very bones, and his heart is about to jackrabbit out of his chest. With shaking hands, he unscrews the fun size bottle of whiskey he brought from the duty-free store by the gate and swigs back a hearty shot.

It does nothing.

Well, nothing except make his blue-eyed seatmate shoot him a look of alarm. After a beat his neighbor asks tentatively, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Dean grunts.

The plane jolts, and Dean whimpers. Jesus Christ, how long does it take to taxi to the runway? The airport’s only so big for crying out loud.

“Are you sure?” his neighbor asks.

Dean nods and takes another swig of alcohol. “I’m fine,” he repeats quickly. “Other than the fact that I’m stuck in a flying metal tube for the next two hours unless it plummets to Earth in a fiery ball of scrap metal before we land.”

His neighbor squints at him. “That is… extremely unlikely.”

Dean just shrugs and takes another swig of his bottle, now pitifully half-empty.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but flying is statistically the safest way to travel.”

“Thanks, Supes,” Dean says bitterly.

“But I know phobias aren’t always rational,” his neighbor acknowledges, “but I would feel remiss if I didn’t mention it.”

The plane’s engines go from a hum to a blood-chilling roar as they take off down the runway.

Dean’s hands fly to the armrest, bearing down with all his strength. “Son of a bitch, why did I ever think this was a good idea?” he mutters to himself. “I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. I shouldn’t even be in this goddamn death trap.”

The plane takes off into the air, and Dean knocks back the rest of his whiskey. Every groan and creak from the cabin gives Dean a mini heart attack. He’s breathing too fast, and the whiskey threatens to come back up several times as they climb farther and farther away from the safety of the ground.

“If people were meant to fly, we would’ve been given fucking wings,” Dean hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, we were meant to stay on planet Earth. Traveling like this is … unnatural.”

“It’s more a matter of aerodynamics than a facet of the supernatural,” his neighbor cuts through his rambling monologue.

Eyes still closed like he can pretend he’s not a thousand feet up in the air, Dean shakes his head. “Not helping.”

“My apologies. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Dean opens his eyes, more than a little surprised at the sincerity written all over his neighbor’s face. “No.”

“Attention passengers, we have reached cruising altitude. You are free to move about the cabin.”

“Thank god.” Dean breathes out heavily through his mouth, but the exhale doesn’t do much to suppress the low thrum of panic still running through his veins. He flexes his fingers, pulling his right arm back from the armrest. “Sorry,” he mutters to his seat neighbor. “Didn’t mean to hog it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” his neighbor says with a warm smile. “You needed it more than I did.”

“Still,” Dean grunts. He cranes his neck. “Where’s the booze cart?”

“Usually they wait a few minutes to let people stretch their legs first,” his neighbor says, “or go to the bathroom.”

“Huh,” Dean leans back in his seat. “You fly often?”

“Not often enough,” he says to Dean’s complete confusion. How could someone want more of this? “I love traveling.”

“I see,” Dean says because he’s not about to tell a complete stranger he’s a Cuckoo’s Nest of Cocoa Puffs.

“It’s not for everyone,” his neighbor says with a slight dip of his head. “But I –” he breaks off as the plane lurches mid-air.

The bottom drops out of Dean’s stomach.

“Attention passengers, we’re hitting a bad bout of turbulence so the captain has turned the fasten seat belt sign on. Please return to your seats.”

Dean’s stomach flies back up into his throat as the plane starts fucking falling, and it’s like Dean’s stuck on a hellish roller coaster made only of death-complying drops. “We’re gonna die,” he moans. 

“I don’t think –”

“The last thing I said to Sammy was, ‘see ya on the other side, bitch’,” he plows on. “I didn’t mean it literally!”

“I really doubt –”

“At least he’ll be alright without his big brother,” Dean babbles, “he’s gonna be a hot shot lawyer, and I’m gonna be a smear on the ground. I hope he knows I’m proud of him.”

“I’m sure he kn –”

“’Cause we’re not going to make it, and I’m never even gonna have a chance at that stupid job I’m not even qualified for. I mean, who the hell would employ a high school dropout with only a GED and a give ’em hell attitude?” he says, his voice rising in pitch. “Nobody, that’s who!”

“That seems un –”

“I mean, do I look like a fucking secretary? Sorry, executive assistant,” he makes a pfft noise with his mouth. “No sir. No siree.” God, he sounds drunk – or like he’s about to cry. “Sammy says I can do it, but, fuck, he’s family. He organized this whole interview; of course he’s gonna say that. He’s always thought I was better than I am. But that’s just how kids view their parent figures, right? I thought the sun shone outta my dad’s ass until he up and left us.”

Alarmed, his neighbor just gapes at him.

The plane shudders and unleashes another torrent of words from Dean’s mouth. His last will and testament – or confession? – before he meets his maker.

“What a goddamn cliche,” Dean rambles, “leaving for a pack of smokes – fucking smokes, can you believe it? – and just never coming back. At least Sammy was a good kid. He practically raised himself after that.”

Something deep in the belly of the plane makes a horrible scraping noise, and this is it. This is the end.

“I did my best though,” he adds fervently, “I helped him with his homework, drove him to dances and SAT classes, made sure all the bills got paid on time so Sammy had a roof over his head, electricity, gas, and running water.”

“Very admirable of you,” his neighbor says faintly.

“I even sweet talked one teacher into writing his college recommendation after Sammy forgot the application deadline. Shit, she was a hard ass, but Sammy loved Mrs. Mosely, so I wasn’t gonna let one mistake set him back. I had to change her oil for free, but it got Sammy into Stanford with a full ride, so I’m not complaining.”

“I think that’s the textbook definition of comp –”

“Attention passengers, we seem to be through the worst of the turbulence, so the captain will turn off the fasten seatbelt sign in a minute. When seated, please keep your seatbelt on and enjoy the rest of the flight.”

Dean snaps his jaw shut, his face heating to a temperature only known to Mount Doom. 

His neighbor opens his mouth to say something, but Dean just shakes his head and turns away to flag down a flight attendant. That booze cart has his goddamn name on it.

Two hours and change later, Sammy meets him at the arrivals gate, smirking. “How was the flight?” he asks as they make their way to the exit.

“Shut up. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sam chuckles. “That bad?”

“We hit turbulence five minutes in.”

“Damn,” Sam says sympathetically. “But at least Castiel is excited to meet you.”

“Yippee.”

* * *

Sammy drops off Dean at Castiel Novak’s office in some horrible reverse parody of the first day of school. As he gets out of the car, Dean half-expects Sam to hand him a bag lunch and tell him to play nice with the other kids. But Sam just lets him go with a grin and a wave.

Dean gives his name at the welcome desk and gets a visitor’s pass and directions to the fourth floor.

He spends the short elevator ride fiddling with the cuffs of his blazer and adjusting his tie.

All too soon, the doors open, and Dean steps out only to stop dead in his tracks.

“Hello, Dean,” says his seatmate from his flight-from-hell. He takes a step closer and holds out his hand. “I don’t believe we ever traded formal introductions. I’m Castiel Novak.”

For the second time in two days, the bottom drops out of Dean’s stomach.

Read the sequel here!

[dorkylilguy]

I gave you malewife Cas, I raise you with white collar and blue collar Dean 💚💙

I couldn’t choose I had to do both

[talesmaniac89]

The Man in Apartment 43 - Part 29

Series Masterpost (Complete)

Summary: Dean x Reader - Neighbours AU - Dean and the reader live next door to each other and can’t stand each other. Will things change once circumstances bring this bartender and businessman duo closer together?

Triggers: Some feelings of low self worth

Y/N = Your name | Y/L/N = Your last name | Y/E/C = Your eye colour |

Start Here | Last Part | Epilogue

A/N: This is the last part of the main story! However, please stay tuned for next week's epilogue! I hope you enjoyed the story!

Reader

Placing the last of the bags filled with kitchen supplies on your new counter you sighed wearily. When Gabe said he wanted to go shopping you hadn’t imagined that he meant buying you a whole apartment’s worth of stuff. 

The place had already been furnished when you went to visit it two days ago, but between then and now, Gabriel had gotten rid of everything and exchanged it with items that looked nearly the same, but carried a much heftier price tag. He’d outdone himself with shopping marathons in an effort to make sure your apartment was fully stocked, along with a full wardrobe. 

All to stick it to his old man. 

Still, you were nearly settled. Apart from sorting through the last few bags on your kitchen counter, your friends had helped you unpack everything else. Hell, Gabe would have still been there helping (if you could call it that), if you hadn’t seen him off half an hour ago so you could finish up the last few bits and pieces yourself.

Or more like, chased him out… Since the clutz had broken two glasses trying to get them out of the box and into your cupboards. Without washing them. 

Looking around your new apartment, you bit your lip as you leaned against the kitchen counter with a weary sigh. It was still just that. An apartment. Even with Gabe going to nearly extreme lengths to find things that suited you and make it a home, you just couldn’t call it that yet. It still felt cold and foreign. Like everything had felt since you left the Winchester Cabin. 

But you knew it wasn’t the apartment’s fault. No, apartment 11A was beautiful and roomy and way out of your budget. With big windows, two bedrooms and a small balcony for when you felt ready to resume your weekly brunch sessions. The apartment was amazing. It was just missing something…

Or someone. 

The last four days had been hectic, with the lease signing, Charlie and Gabe dragging you out for mandatory shopping therapy and fending off journalists every step of the way. But through it all, your mind had never left Dean Winchester. 

Still, now that you were settled, it was time to say to hell with the media. You had to put your foot down on the constant meetings with the police or the lawyers. And get some time away from your friends who, god bless them, seemed afraid to even leave you alone for a single second. You couldn’t make excuses anymore. You’d promised yourself you would stop running away.

You needed Dean’s green eyes, his comforting smile and the sound of his voice to fill the empty space and warm the chill in the air… Hell, it didn’t feel like the apartment would truly feel like home until he was back in your life. It had only been 20 days, but it felt like a lifetime. After those harrowing 12 days, you just couldn’t go back to normal. Not if your new normal didn’t include the man from apartment 43. 

Even if he wasn’t your neighbour anymore.

Scowling at the bags next to you on the kitchen counter, you mimed rolling up your sleeves as your oversized t-shirt just wasn’t dramatic enough for the task at hand and started unpacking the boxes of cutlery, plates and glasses. Once you were done, you’d find a way to reach out to Dean. Hell, even if you had to go to his place and knock on his door… You’d manage. You could do it… If it meant getting to see those brilliant green eyes again. 

You’d just pretend you couldn’t see the big number 42 on the door next to his. 

---

You’d barely gotten the first few pieces of cutlery free from the finicky cardboard box they came in when your phone chimed next to the mess of bags and boxes. Drawing your eyes away from the small plastic bindings that tied each knife to the cardboard, you glanced at your screen. Before dropping what you were doing when you were met with Gabe’s name on the incoming message. 

Picking up your phone, you unlocked it, before immediately regretting your decision. Groaning silently to yourself once you read the short message. Your read receipt would have already shown Gabe you’d seen it. Which meant you had no choice but to reply. 

Gabe I forgot to tell you. You should go say hi to the neighbours. 

Gabe At least the one across the hall from you. That’s the “in” I got you. I wouldn’t have been able to secure the apartment if it wasn’t for 12B.

Before you could even type a message back to explain how you weren’t ready to play meet and greet with a bunch of new neighbours, Gabriel seemed to sense your excuse as he offered up an alternative; only one neighbour. Yet… You didn’t feel up to meeting any new strangers. Not when you were sure that, whoever they were, they would have seen you on the news. And you just couldn’t deal with any more pitying looks. 

This was supposed to be your new start. 

You wouldn’t let it be mired by looks of pity and more whispers behind your back. Shaking your head you typed out a short reply to Gabe, hoping he wouldn’t push further. Though you knew he’d gone to great lengths to get you the apartment. You knew you owed him, and the neighbour in apartment 12B, a lot. But you just needed some more time. Preferably enough time for the newspapers to stop plastering your face across them. 

(Y/N) I will… But not now. I’m busy organising the kitchen. 

Pausing, you stared at the screen. Grimacing at the clipped and nearly cowardly way the words looked to you on your screen. They looked like an excuse. Hell, they were an excuse. Yet, you still felt the need to soften them as you quickly typed a follow up, ignoring the dots showing that Gabe was already writing a retort with a small smirk on your lips.

(Y/N) And somehow I’m managing WITHOUT breaking any glasses.

The three dots indicating Gabriel was typing stopped for a second, before they showed up again. And you could nearly picture him furiously erasing the words in order to defend his own clumsiness. 

Gabe There were chips in them! They just exploded, it’s not my fault I’m so damn hot even glass melts in my hands. 

Rolling your eyes at your phone, you laughed out loud at your best friend's words. Before flinching a bit at how hollow it sounded in the empty apartment. You hadn’t been alone in… Hell. Since the start of the whole damn nightmare. And the silence felt empty and all consuming at the same time as you cut your laugh short to focus on the messages coming rapid fire from Gabe’s side. 

Gabe But! Please go right away.

Gabe I know it’s… Soon. 

Gabe But your neighbour is nice. I pinky promise.

Gabe And I just got a text wondering if you’d settled in fine. 

Gabe Since your neighbour is home now, it’s best to go now.

Gabe Please? For me? 

His words were followed by just an endless spammed row of pleading emojis as you grimaced at the piece of plastic in your hand. You really didn’t feel up for meeting any strangers yet, but you didn’t want to ruin Gabe’s friendship with whomever it was. 

Especially since Gabriel seemed to, uncharacteristically, care about what this mystery neighbour thought. Maybe it was a hookup? One of his friends with benefits? Or someone who meant a little more, that Gabe hadn’t gotten around to introduce you to? Either way, shooting back a single ‘ok’, you pocketed your phone and scowled down at your mess of a kitchen. It would have to wait. 

First you had to go greet the damn neighbours. No one did that anymore. Did they?

But hell… Maybe it was better to know who was living nearby. Especially considering how your former neighbour had saved your life. Though you hoped you’d never have to deal with anything like that ever again. There was only one man next door that mattered to you. Even though he was no longer next door to you. 

Walking over to your front door, you took a few deep breaths. You couldn’t help it. The idea of the unknown, which before had felt thrilling to you, now only terrified you. You knew that there was just an empty hallway on the other side of the door. Yet you still had to psych yourself up before you cautiously opened the door, just a smidge, and looked out into the hallway. Not breathing until you were sure it was completely empty. 

Opening the door fully, you looked at the number 12B across the hall. As you stepped into the hallway, you couldn’t help but look around again. Worried someone would jump out of the shadows the moment you left yourself open and vulnerable. Taking a deep breath, you left your door halfway open as an easy escape route, should you need it. Before wrapping your arms around yourself and taking the two steps across the hall to 12B. Keeping your eyes on the number, you quieted the small part of you wishing you were looking at the familiar number 43 instead. 

Lifting your hand to knock, you hesitated for a second. Your eyes falling as you looked down at your own sock clad feet. Should you have put on shoes? Or would that have been weirder? Frowning at your own feet, you kept your eyes down as you let your knuckles hit against the wood of your neighbours door. 

Your eyes were still cast downward as you heard the door open. Your neighbour had clearly been waiting for you. Maybe Gabe told them you were coming? Nearly no time had passed between your knock and the click of the door’s lock. Which meant you had no time to prepare yourself as you wet your lips and tried to find the correct words.

“Hi, I’m your new neighbour, I just moved in across the hall…” You rattled out the first words that came to your mind as you cautiously lifted your downcast eyes to look up at your new neighbour. Yet, as your eyes finally locked with his, your voice died in your throat. Whatever else you’d planned to say was drowned out in a sea of brilliant green as Dean Winchester looked down at you, eyes wide in shock that mirrored yours. 

It was Dean, framed by the doorway of apartment 12B as you simply stared up at him. Lips slightly parted around the empty words you’d planned to say as you struggled to remember how to breathe. 

It had been so long, and yet, the moment you saw him again it felt like no time had passed at all. You wanted… No, you needed to talk to him. But your heart was in your throat as you tried to find the words… The right words, to tell your saviour next door. The words you’d promised yourself you’d tell him when you finally met him again. 

No more running. 

Trying to find your voice and the oxygen needed to shape them, your eyes strayed to his full lips before refocusing on those still wide eyes taking you in. Clearing away your shock, you started over again. 

“Hi… I just… Gabe got me a new place and told me to come introduce myself. I’m there…” You waved numbly back at the half open door, though your eyes never left Dean’s. His forest green eyes were still wide in shock as he silently looked from you to the half open door of the apartment across the hall…

Say something. 

You bit back the plea that nearly broke free from your chest as you watched Dean take everything in. Shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, you hesitated as your brain worked overtime to put everything you wanted to tell him into words. Yet, as you wet your lips and opened your mouth, none of the words you wanted to tell him escaped you. 

“I…” You started. Forming the rest of the sentence silently in your mind as you tried to shape the words you’d been carrying silently and carefully in your fragile and broken heart. 

I am in love with you Dean Winchester.

“I was wondering… Maybe you’d want to come to mine for dinner? A housewarming of sorts?” You said instead. Swallowing the words you truly wanted to say with a hitched breath. 

Coward. 

You were supposed to tell him everything. Just like you’d rehearsed on sleepless nights as you watched your dark phone screen in vain, hoping he would call. Yet you were asking him over for dinner?

Letting your eyes drop in shame, you grimaced at your own cowardice. Before just as quickly reshaping the frown into a soft gasp as your eyes finally took in all of him. He had his jacket over his arm and his keys in his hands. Damn it. He was heading out. Of course he was… 

“If now’s not a good time…” You let your voice trail off as your heart sank with a slight nod towards the jacket hanging loosely over his toned forearm. Chewing on your bottom lip, you stopped the many selfish words you wanted to say from spilling out. Though you wanted nothing more than to ask him not to leave. Not now. Not when you’d finally met him again. 

You’d been missing him so damn much. Every second seemed like an eternity when he wasn’t around. You just wanted to finally talk to him, even if you were too cowardly to tell him what you really wanted to say. You just needed to stay near him. Just for a little while. Even if he didn’t feel the way you did. You wanted him to just… Come over. To fill your new place with some of that familiar warmth from the cabin. So you could try and shape it into a home. 

But, Dean was clearly heading out somewhere. And by the slightly tousled look of his hair and the way his tight blue t-shirt was riding up on his abdomen, teasing a small flash of his toned stomach. He was clearly in a rush to… Wherever it was he had to go. You couldn’t stop him… After all, you were just a neighbour.

“No…” Dean finally found his voice as he shook his head. His former wide eyed shock melted into a soft, careful smile as he lifted the jacket in his hands and blindly reached back into the apartment looking for a hook to hang it on before unceremoniously dropping it on the floor as he missed the hook. Shrugging with that boyish grin you’d come to love when your eyes dropped to look at the jacket on the floor; slightly obscured by the door.

“I mean, I’m not going anywhere. I’d love to…” Dean clarified when you glanced back up at him, lips parted in confusion as you glanced from him to the jacket on the floor.

“So… Dinner?” The words left you as a relieved sigh. The idea of going back to your new apartment alone, now that you’d finally gotten to see him again seemed nearly impossible. Just hearing his voice was enough to warm the near constant chill that has clung to you since the cabin. And you knew that your apartment would only feel colder and lonelier if he’d not taken you up on the offer. 

Though, as you took a careful step backward, letting him move from where he was framed in the doorway, you still had to swallow hard to quell the butterflies in your stomach. You wanted to talk to him, you were relieved he was staying, but the 20 days apart had caused a divide between the two of you. At least if the way your words were left hanging in the air for a few seconds, stirring it up with nervous energy, was anything to go by. 

There was a strained tension to the silence. So much was untouched in the air between you. And after being left for 20 days to simmer, it had grown hard and jagged. Like a wall between you, where you’d previously just managed to knock your walls down and bared your heart to him. 

“Yeah… Sure,” Dean finally said. A small careful smile on his lips as he punctuated his sentence with the soft click of his own door closing and signalled for you to lead the way. 

Things had seemed simpler, back in the cabin. Easier. Though you knew it was all your fault. The many words you wanted to say, the heart you wanted to offer up, was hanging silently in the air between you. Taking up too much space for anything else to be spoken out loud. 

Trying to outrun the awkward silence, you took the few steps back to your new apartment as quickly as you could. Slipping in before opening the door fully to invite Dean in. Barely glancing at the mess left from the move with a grimace as you thought back to Dean’s own carefully maintained and immaculate apartment. But, Dean had seen the chaos that was your damn life. A few empty cardboard boxes was nothing compared to that. 

As he stepped into your apartment, Dean only smiled. Staying silent the whole time while moving carefully out of the way to let you shut the door behind him as his eyes stayed on you. As if he was still trying to catch up; taking you in as if he didn’t believe you were really there. Yet as the door closed shut and hid the outside world, your man from apartment 43 finally parted his lips to speak. His eyes glancing from the keys still in his hands to you.  

“Look (Y/N). What I said at the cabin…”

Dean didn’t get another word out. And for the second it took for your brain to catch up to your heart and body, you were left wondering why. Until you felt it; the taste of peppermint and coffee on your lips. 

You just didn’t want to hear him deny what had happened between the two of you back in the cabin. And, in your desperation, your hands had shot up to curl into the soft cotton of his blue t-shirt before you pulled him against you and lifted yourself up to kiss him. A feather light touch of your lips against his still and unmoving ones. Still slightly parted around the words he’d been trying to say. 

Realising what you’d done, your hands slipped from his t-shirt as you jumped back with a gasp. Shit. You’d fucked up. Looking up at where Dean was still frozen in shock you shook your head as you did the only thing you could do. Apologise.

“Sorr…” Before you got even a single full word out, Dean had broken free from his shock as he quickly closed the distance between you and leaned down to capture your lips with his. Mirroring your earlier action as he silenced words he didn’t want to hear. 

For a split second, his lips were soft and barely there as he gently tested the waters. But, as you carefully kissed him back, he fully melted into the kiss. His strong calloused hands gently stroked up your arms until he reached your shoulders. Before one hand brushed a few stray hairs out of your face and gently angled your mouth up towards him as he cupped your cheek. 

Walking you the single step backwards until your back hit the door, Dean sighed into the kiss before deepening it with a desperation that had so far been nothing but fragile softness. His free hand moved from your shoulder and to your neck as he trapped your body between his and the door. Leaving you nearly whimpering into the kiss as your fingers travelled up his body to once more clutch at his t-shirt. Just… Revelling in all of him. 

The taste of him, the feel of his teeth scraping against your lip, lit a fire in your veins, finally thawing the last remnants of the unnatural chill that had clung to you for the last 20 days. He tasted like home. Like safety and new beginnings. And, as you let his tongue slip into your open mouth, you gasped as shots of liquid heat ran through your body. 

Your grip on his t-shirt slipped as you instead lifted your arms to wrap them around his neck. Pushing your body against him in an effort to, if possible, be even closer to him. Close enough that the sounds of your heartbeats would intermingle. Filling in the blanks where words somehow didn’t seem like enough. 

You lost yourself to the kiss. Letting the madness of the last 20 days, the nightmare that had brought the two of you together, the world itself, slip away into nothingness. Leaving just him and you. 

Yet, before you could fully drown in him, Dean gently broke the kiss. His other hand softly slipped from your neck so he could cup your face between both of his hands.  Worried green eyes looked down at you as his hands lifted just a fraction from your skin to wipe the tears from your eyes. 

Tears you hadn’t even realised you were crying. 

Dean

The final remnants of the shock of opening the door and being met with (Y/E/C) eyes was melting away as Dean drowned in her sugar and sunshine lips. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her. The feel of her small body clinging to him. The sighs on her lips that he swallowed greedily. His mind was blank. There was no room for anything but (Y/N). Only her; only the shape of her and the taste of her, could break through the heavy thump of his heartbeat in his ears as he deepened the kiss. 

She was finally back in his arms. And Dean doubted he could let her go for long enough to even breathe as he savoured the realisation of having her back. Yet, just as he was losing himself fully in the kiss, caging her between him and the door and angling her beautiful lips up towards his, the taste of sugar and sunshine dimmed. Like rain clouds covering the sun itself as Dean’s tongue slid against her lip and tasted the saline flavour of her pain in the kiss.

She was crying. 

Damn it, he’d screwed up again. Biting back the curses he wanted to aim inward at himself, he pushed back the vicious voices reminding him that he’d always been a screw up... And instead focused on her. His sunshine girl with rain clouds in her (Y/E/C) eyes. 

Leaning back a bit, he cupped her face in his hands as he busied himself trying to catch every single tear that slipped from her eyes before they could reach her trembling lips. Gently brushing them away as he looked down at her with a mix of guilt and worry weighing heavily in his stomach. He’d fucked up. He’d read too much into the kiss. Gone too far, too fast. 

She’s gone through so much already. She needed gentle touches, feather light affirmation and space. Not this, not him. Not the passion and desire in him that nearly drove him mad just seconds earlier. 

He had promised himself he’d be better for her, that he’d do better. Yet he’d lost his mind the moment he felt her breath hitch against his lips in a sigh shaped slightly like his name. The same sound he’d been dying to hear for the last 20 days. 

“I’m so sorry (Y/N), I… Shit… Please don’t cry,” Dean could hear his voice break over the words as he busied himself with catching every trace of hurt that left her with trembling fingers against her heated skin. Opening his mouth again, he wanted to continue to apologise. To condemn himself, if that’s what she wanted. Yet, before he could speak up. She shook her head slightly, though with his hands still cupping her cheeks the shake was barely even noticable.

Stepping back from the door slightly, he tried to give her some space to breathe. Though he kept his fingers on her skin. Unable and unwilling to break the fragile connection as he watched her try to find her voice again. Pushing a few stray hairs out of her face, Dean caught yet another tear as she took a step forward, staying close to him instead of taking the space he’d offered up to her. 

The tears had nearly dried up as she took a few shaky breaths, but Dean still let his fingers trace the shape of her jaw and lips. Trying to soothe and remove every trace of pain from her features as penance for causing her to cry in the first place. 

“It’s… I didn’t even know I was crying,” Her words were followed by a hollow laugh as she lifted a shaky hand and placed it over his. Pushing his palm to her cheek as (Y/E/C) eyes fluttered closed for a moment. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip and soft frown lines appeared on her forehead as she hesitated over her next words. 

Opening her eyes, she glanced up at him before refocusing on his chest instead. Unable to look him in the eyes as she started speaking. And though her voice was barely even a whisper, to Dean, in the quiet of her apartment, each word hit him like a gunshot. Tearing at his very being as they pushed the air from his lungs.

“I’m broken Dean… I don’t work right. I run away from everything. My life’s a fucking horror movie and everything I touch just explodes into nothing. I mean… My stalker shot you,” Her words ended in a small sob of a laugh as she looked up at him again. Fresh tears brimming in her eyes as she took another shaky breath. 

Opening his mouth to protest, to tell her what he saw when he looked at her, how absolutely damn perfect she was, Dean didn’t get far as she cut him off. Placing two trembling fingers against his lips she just shook her head with a small sad smile. As if she could read the words in his worried eyes. As if she could see how he saw her; how beautiful, strong and absolutely breathtaking she was to him, yet chose to reject it. 

“It’s just… I’ve gotten used to this. To pain and disappointment… To running away from things before they become too comfortable. When you’re used to being alone, comfort is so much scarier than loneliness. Or even rejection. So I run, before either side comes true. Before they can reject me, and before I can start to feel something,” She continued. And every new word broke Dean’s heart a little more.

Clenching his jaw shut, Dean’s fingers stilled from where they’d been capturing the fresh tears before they could even fully fall as he steeled himself for heartbreak and rejection. Yet, even as he waited for her to break his heart, he couldn’t help but want nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms and hold her tight. To soothe old hurts and curse the people that left those scars on her beautiful soul. 

Though, as he held his breath waiting for her next words, he feared he’d never get the chance to. That this was it. The moment he went back to being a stranger. Just… One that had fallen in love with her.

“But I want you. Somewhere, along this damned horrible roller coaster ride, I just looked up and you were there. And you made it all better. You made me feel strong, safe, right. And for the first time in a very long time, I didn’t want to run away from it. I think I’ve… No…” Shaking her head she finally looked straight into his eyes. Her own (Y/E/C) eyes burning with that same fire that Brian and Ketch had never managed to fully extinguish as she wet her lips before correcting herself. 

“I am in love with you, Dean Winchester,” She finally said. The words, so different from what he'd been expecting, left his sunshine girl with just a slight tremble of trepidation. Where his heart had been about to crack into a million little pieces, it now seemed whole for the first time in… Hell, forever. 

She was in love with him. Him. She loved him, though he’d thought he didn’t deserve anyone's love. Not anymore…

Swallowing heavily to stop himself from laughing out loud in unbridled joy or just crushing her against him in a bruising kiss, Dean tried to rid himself of the cotton mouthed feeling her words had left him with. His mind was a hazy mess as he felt nearly drunk off of her words. Yet he needed to tell her. To put into words what he should have said that day, back at the hospital. 

“(Y/N)...” Dean finally croaked out as he found his voice, grimacing at how broken it sounded in his breathless state. His fingers that had fallen at the thought of her rejection lifted again to angle her face up towards his where she was once more hiding her beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes from him. 

“I’m no hero or saint either. I’ve faced my fair share of… Look, I don’t care. I just want you… I’ve fallen in love with every one of those fragile little broken pieces that make you, you. I’ve fallen for your strength, your laughter, your heart… Every part of you made me love you. And I chose to fall deeper into that love, willingly,” Dean had to stop himself from continuing, or he would have spent every last breath in his body listing the many facets of his beautiful girl next door that made him fall for her. And he had yet to say the most important thing. 

“I guess what I’m saying is… I’m in love with you too (Y/N) (Y/L/N),”  He whispered, his voice cracking at the end of his words as he felt his eyes tear up against his will. Taking a shaky breath, he traced the shape of her features; from her brow and down to her slightly trembling lips as he smiled softly down at the miracle under his fingertips. 

“I know it won’t be easy, but if you let me…” Dean started, but before he could finish his sentence, the taste of sugar on his lips took his breath away. 

Her kiss was soft and barely even there. Tentative. As if she was still carefully testing the waters as she shaped her lips against his. And he let her lead him. Arms falling down to curl around her waist as he let her set the pace of the whisper of a kiss. Revelling in every taste of her and sighing contentedly at every soft breath against his lips when she drew back before returning to him. Always with just a little more pressure, a little more heat. Melting into him slowly, like cotton candy against his lips. 

Deepening the kiss fully, she let her hands curl around his neck and dig into his hair, teasing a groan out of him as she tugged on the short strands of tousled hair. And finally, Dean let go of his control. Drowning in her, in everything she was. 

In the sunshine girl that was finally his.

---

Dean didn’t know how long he’d let himself get lost in the feel of her lips on his, or the sound of his name leaving her like a honey sweet sigh. But, pulling away to catch his breath, Dean reluctantly placed his forehead against hers to stop himself from chasing the high that was her sweet mouth again. Though his eyes kept dropping to lips as he took a few deep breaths, trying to steady his raging pulse. 

“We’d better stop, or we’ll never have that dinner you mentioned,” He finally managed to whisper between breaths as he let his tongue roll against his lip, hoping to taste her there. 

As (Y/N) looked up at him, he saw the glimmer of her laughter in (Y/E/C) eyes before it bubbled free from her lips. And Dean nearly needed to steady himself from what the sound did to his mind and heart. It was just so goddamn beautiful. It was the laughter… That same pure laughter he used to hear from her days on her balcony with her friends. Her true laughter, not the forced attempts she’d tried to make during the nightmare riddled 12 days of being chased by her stalker. And Dean had never heard a sweeter sound. 

His arms tensed and relaxed as he physically had to keep himself from just saying to hell with food and devouring her instead. She was just so damn perfect, and sweet. Dean was sure he could survive on just the taste of her kiss alone. 

“I have a confession to make,” She giggled once her laughter died down. With a mischievous glint in her eyes she let her teeth pull on her bottom lip in a way that once more focused Dean’s attention down to that tempting mouth. 

“And what’s that?” Dean murmured as he lifted his hand up, using his thumb to gently tease her bottom lip free from her teeth and traced the shape of it. Damn it, she was irresistible. Wetting his lips, he leaned down and stole a small peck before she could confess to anything. Which earned him a soft gasp from her before she rolled those beautiful eyes at him. He just couldn’t help himself.

“I can’t actually make dinner. I haven’t unpacked my kitchen stuff yet. Gabe… He texted me and told me I had to go across the hall and introduce myself. And apparently, I had to do it right away,” She said with another small laugh, her lips curling up in a small knowing smirk. Since she had clearly followed her best friend’s orders, just as Dean was heading out the door. 

“What a coincidence,” Dean mused with a small chuckle. Having already figured out Gabriel’s plan as soon as the words left her. Yet as she lifted a questioning eyebrow in his direction he grinned at her.

“I was just about to go out to meet Gabe, to get your phone number, when you knocked,” He finally continued as he let his fingers follow the cute crease in her brow, removing it with a soft touch of his thumb against her skin.

For a split second, (Y/E/C) eyes widened in realisation before she rolled them and scoffed. The way her nose scrunched slightly looked so damned endearing, Dean had to hold himself back from kissing her again. Instead he let his teeth graze his lip, chasing the taste of her there, as she let her hands drop from where she’s been playing with the hem of his t-shirt to dig her phone out of her pocket.  

A weary sigh left her as she unlocked the phone and tapped on her screen before quickly turning the phone towards Dean. The words on the screen teased another small laugh out of him as she groaned at her best friend. Apparently Gabriel had been aiming for a hallway meet-cute.

Gabe Did I time it right? Did you bump into him in the hallway, like in the movies? 

Gabe I was counting on Dean not waiting the 30 minutes and rushing out the door. I read him right... Right? 

Gabe Please tell me I timed it right!

With a shake of her head, (Y/N) opted to ignore her best friend as she slipped her phone back into her pocket before looking back up at him. Her slightly kiss swollen lips looked so damn tempting he had to swallow hard to not lean in and devour them again. 

“So… delivery?” She finally asked, her voice barely a whisper as her eyes glanced down at his lips. Her whole body was leaning into his touch, and damn it… Dean was not a strong enough man to keep fighting himself. Not when everything he wanted was right there. Her eyes fluttering shut or lips parting in a contented sigh from just a touch of his fingers. 

Wetting his lips, Dean leaned in slowly, until he could feel her shaky breath on his lips as she waited, impatiently, for his kiss. Placing the ghost of a kiss at the corner of her lips, he smiled against her skin at the displeased whimper that left her from the barely even there kiss before letting his arms curl around her body again. 

“Dinner can wait,” He shot back as he quickly lifted her up, teasing a small squeal out of her as she hooked her legs around his hips and placed her arms around his neck. That beautiful laughter was slipping from her lips again, but this time, Dean didn’t hold himself back. Instead he leaned into it. Swallowing the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard with another crushing kiss.

Yeah… Dinner could definitely wait. 

Screw Sammy’s bridge analogy. They’d reached the end of that bridge, and Dean’s heart still beat just as hard. If not harder. 

Holding her close, Dean let his lips travel from her mouth to her neck and revelled in the feel of her heavy pulse under her skin. Smiling into her soft skin, he let his teeth graze her pulse point. Revelling in the soft moan he teased out of her as he pushed her back against the door leading out of apartment 11A before he chased after her lips again and lost himself in the taste of her… 

The monsters were gone, and the horrible memories had been left back in apartment 42. Sure there were still nightmares and court cases left to deal with, but they would get through it. Together. Dean would be with her, every step of the way. He’d stand side by side with her, not as a shield, but as a partner. And together, they’d be able to face it all. 

They’d be stronger. 

But right then and there? In that moment; with her lips on his and her body shaped against him? She was just… Her. Not his neighbour, or the woman from apartment 11A. And he was just him, not a stranger, a temporary resident of apartment 12B, or the man from apartment 43. 

They were the only thing that mattered. 

She was there, with him. And they were finally home. 

Start Here | Last Part | Epilogue

---

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler  @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @starsandmidnightblue @screechingartisancashbailiff @septixtrash @punof-agun  @deandreamernp @justagirlinafandomworld @sexyvixen7 @justrealizedimmascifygurl @globetrotter28

The Man in Apartment 43 Tags: @campingmonkey @talia-ciufo @monkeymcpoopoo @deans-baby-momma @kalesrebellion @sarahpunkinator @smokinserious @cookiechipdough @winchestergirl82 @babykalika2001 @bagpussjocken @elliloumom @pinknerdpanda @zombiecupcake29 @justaparttimeauthor @that-one-gay-girl @starchildwild @poptart06294 @gia-25 @siospins2 @ariesbabe1993 @jamerlynn

Forever Tags will be added as reblog

[deancaspinefest]

Something Happening Somewhen

Author: allthismusic | Artist: eggchef

Posting on Wednesday March 27

Dean is 24 years old, and a quiet night at a California dive bar turns into a near death experience turns into a trip through time thanks to the stranger he meets in the bar. When he lands in the bunker twenty years into his future, he finds out who the stranger is — and what his relationship is to Dean’s own older self. Dean’s not sure what he thinks about this at first, but when Cas takes him back to his own time (accompanied by the older Dean, who is determined to make sure that nothing they do in the past screws up their lives in the future), he gets to know the angel, and he gets a glimpse at a future he never would’ve dreamed that he might be able to have.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

In the cool evening air, Dean looks around. He’d left the Impala back parked at the dingy motel where he’d rented a room, but he’s not quite ready to call it a night. He opens his remaining beer and looks down the street to see if there’s another bar nearby that might be worth checking out, but before he can make a decision he hears the door to the bar he has just left open behind him. And he knows, he just /knows/, that it isn’t some other random patron headed home.

“What the hell is this, huh?” Dean asks, “Something about ‘not interested’ you’re not getting?”

And then the guy says his name.

“Dean,” the man begins, and Dean gets it.

“Oh, lemme guess, my dad tell you to check up on me?” Dean asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer, just begins to walk, knowing the man will follow. He’s a hunter, obviously. Explains the build, and the suit that is only meant to pass muster at a brief glance, like the fake police badge or FBI creds the guy probably carries. Dean should’ve clocked him from the start.

And for some reason John had thought that Dean needed checking up on. That he couldn’t be trusted to go it alone, nevermind the fact that he had finished the hunt his dad had sent him on two whole days ago and had yet to receive any new case coordinates from John.

To Dean’s surprise, he hears a laugh behind him. He stops, and now he does turn to face the guy again.

“No,” the man says. “I’ve lost count of how often I’ve been told I’m bad at following orders, but even if that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t follow your father’s.”

“Oh yeah? Then how do you know my name?” Dean demands.

“You left your wallet on the bar,” the man replies, holding it up. It’s definitely Dean’s: worn black leather, secondhand from his dad, containing a meager number of bills and at least three fake IDs tucked behind a real one— well, real first name, although it gives his surname as Campbell, just in case.

“Oh,” Dean says, wondering for the second time that night if he has misjudged this guy’s intentions. Maybe he’s just a normal businessman trying to do a good deed for the day and return a lost wallet, despite the wallet’s owner being an absolute weird freak toward him. “Thanks.”

The man offers the wallet out to him, almost gently, like he’s proffering a bit of food to a scared, stray dog, and Dean steps forward to take it. “It’s your birthday,” he says, and before Dean can ask, the man explains, “I saw it on your ID. On one of them, anyway.” Dean nods. “Happy birthday,” the guy says. “I should’ve bought you a beer.”

(continue reading on Ao3 on Wednesday March 27)

[explainslowly]

Day 13 of @spnficrecfest - Poly ships and rare-pairs

Drowley

How to Succeed in Business Dean Smith hooks up with a mysterious pushy businessman

No Expenses Spared Blood magic gone wrong

Find Me Faithless Demon Dean is Crowley's prized bitch <3 (I have debated with myself whether to include this one but I believe we can all be reasonable - that said there is implied but not depicted bestiality at the end, ok? You have been warned. Anyway.)

Crowstiel

To Lie with the Devil Don't bite off more than you can chew, Crowley says, stuffing the entire Castiel into his mouth.

When The Bill Comes Due Something something Castiel as a being of limitless hunger.

Megstiel

not him/not her/not me - graphic depiction of violence, creator chose not to use warnings Strange and fragmented <3 Meg and Cas meet in the empty.

Fractured link - Meanstiel sweet!

Other

one on, two out - Dean/Deacon You ever think about Dean/Deacon? I do.

meet my girlfriend - Lisa Braeden/Daphne Allen hey.... what if Lisa and Daphne got together? Would that be crazy or what? Read on for some gender too.

to survive on this shore - Rhonda Hurley/Dean Winchester transfem Dean character portrait that will gut you in under 1k words

Any Port - Dean Winchester/Aaron Bass THE best Dean/Aaron canonverse fic I have found so far (bless au writers but I simply do not think Aaron is analogous to a dweeby training wheels boyfriend Dean doesn't like that much)

The Song In Your Blood - Dean Winchester/Siren (Nick Monroe), Rape I think we can all agree that Dean was looking for a little more than *just* a brother

Yes - Castiel/Jimmy Novak, Rape Canonverse. Jimmy's and Castiel's relationship sours, post Rapture.

[negans-lucille-tblr]

Negan Masterlist

Below you’ll find all of my Negan fictions.

Please note any trigger warnings and if a fic is 18+ before reading! 

(back to Main Masterlist)

JDM and Characters Master-Masterpost

CROSSOVERS

Prized Possession

Summary: Negan’s back at Alexandria to collect and this time he wants Rick’s prized possession; you.

Rating: 18+ - NSFW (Smut, Fluff and Angst)

Status: Complete

Chapters: 29

TW: scenes of dub-con and sexual assault

* * *

A - Z with Negan (Smut Edition)

Summary: A short story for each letter of the alphabet exploring many different kinks and fantasies with Negan.

Rating: 18+ - every single part will be smut, some mild, some strong.

Status: Complete

Chapters: 26

TW: Knife play, Rape play

* * *

Loyalties Lie

Summary: Dean, Y/N and Sam are doing all they can to survive in the apocalypse when they stubble across the Saviors. Negan’s striking resemblance to their father, John, has Sam weary and Dean eager to please. But Negan is leading Dean down a dark path despite Y/N and Sam’s attempts to keep him away. As things take a turn for the worst, everyone is left to question where their loyalties lie.

A TWD/SPN crossover set in The Walking Dead Universe (Around season 8)

Rating: 18+ (Smut, Major Angst, Fluff, Dark themes)

Status: Posting on Patreon - coming soon to Tumblr

Chapters: 20

Patience is a Virtue

Summary: Returning to your old high school for college placement, you find yourself being mentored by Coach Negan, the teacher you would relentlessly flirt with as a student, only this time, he’s not letting you get away with it so easily.

Rating: 18+ NSFW (Smut and some Angst)

Parts: 2

Part One    Part Two

* * * 

The Backseat

Summary: Y/N is the spoiled, ‘pampered princess’ daughter of rich businessman, Simon Y/L/N. As soon as she hits 18 she starts to prove she’s quite the handful. Meanwhile, Simon’s recently divorced best friend, Negan, is looking for a job. Simon hires Negan to chauffeur and keep control of Y/N, but it’s not long before she’s making him lose control too.

Rating: 18+ (Smut, Angst, Fluff)

Parts: 5

* * * 

Escape

Summary: Y/N is desperate to escape her hometown and her controlling half-brothers, Sam and Dean, and now she’s 18 college seems like the only way out. But her gym coach, Negan is failing her and his proposition to help her pass takes a bad turn.

A SPN/TWD Crossover mini fic set in an AU

Rating: 18+ (Dark Fic - Smut/Angst/Sistercest)

Bad Blood (AU)

Summary: You thought you’d put the past behind you, until it moves it moves in next door and opens old wounds and reignites old flames.

Rating: 18+ NSFW (Smut)

* * *

A Night with Negan (JDM/Negan)

Summary: When Jeff discovers you are attracted to his character, Negan, he knows what this year’s anniversary gift will be.

Rating: 18+ NSFW (Smut and a pinch of Fluff)

* * *

Chocolate and Wine

Summary: After nursing some of the Saviors back to health, Negan owes you a favour.

Rating: 13+? (This would literally be like a NR if it wasn’t for Negan and his foul mouth) Fluff

* * *

Numb

Summary: When Negan discovers one of his people is hurting themselves, he does everything in his power to make them feel something better.

Rating: 18+ NSFW (swearing, sex and self harm)

WARNING: SELF HARM. The reader doesn’t physically harm themselves in the fic but it is talked about and there is imagery of the self inflicted wounds, and talk about why they self harm. Please don’t read this if it’s triggering for you.

* * *

It’s Good to be Back

(with FP Jones (Riverdale) )

Summary: Former Serpent King, Negan, is back at his old stomping ground. And as you find out, him and current King, FP, make quite the team

Rating: 18+ NSFW (swearing and sex - shameless threesome)

* * *

Initiation

(with John Winchester (SPN) )

Summary:  Negan doesn’t like your attitude and before you can join the Saviors, John needs to prove he can keep you in your place.

Rating: 18+ NSFW (swearing and sex - shameless threesome)

* * * 

Look What You Made Me Do

Summary: Negan’s there to welcome home his step-daughter after her first date, but he doesn’t like what she chose to wear, and decides to show her what the consequences of dressing like a slut might be.

Rating: 18+ (Dark Fic - non con)

Distraction

Summary: Negan’s watching baseball, but you have a distraction.

Rating: 18+ NSFW (Smut & Swearing)

* * *

Better Grades

Summary: To stay on the dance squad, you need better grades. Which is where Coach Negan comes in. (Smut prompt request)

Rating: 18+ NSFW (Smut)

* * *

Leave a Mark

Summary: No plot, just smut. Kinky sex (spanking), affair. (Smut prompt request)

Rating: 18+ NSFW (smut)

* * *

Coffee

Summary: A blind date with Negan goes well, so you invite him back for coffee. But you don’t get that far. (DRABBLES ARE HARD TO SUMMARISE OKAY!?) (Smut prompt request)

Rating: 18+ NSFW (smut)

* * * 

A Bad Dream

Summary: A bad dream sees you in bed with your step dad, Negan - but it’s far from innocent.

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

A/N: 1000 Followers Prompt request

* * *

Daddy Day Care

Summary: It was Negan’s first day of Daddy day care.

Rating: 13+ (Fluff but some swearing)

A/N: 1000 Followers prompt request

* * *

Better Than You

Summary: Negan knew it was wrong, but no one does it Better than you.

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

A/N: 1000 Followers prompt request

* * *

Room 406

Summary: The sins room 406 has seen…

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

A/N: 1000 Followers prompt request

* * *

The New Recruit

Summary: Negan has a new recruit

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

A/N: 1000 Followers prompt request

* * *

Win You Over

Summary: Negan wants you, but you’re not playing game

Rating: 13+ (Swearing because Negan)

* * *

Daddy’s Little Girl

Summary: Daddy takes what he wants when he’s drunk.

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

A/N: Drunk drabble - dub con, incest could be implied.

* * *

The Best I’ll Ever Have

Summary: Negan’s a proud guy who doesn’t like the idea of being outdone and you can’t wait for him to prove you wrong.  

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

* * *

* Negan Bingo Masterlist *