#berettajane

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,210

Summary: It’s Hunters’ Night at the roadhouse and a newb makes a move on Y/N despite clear warnings.

A/N:  I do not own the picture used! 

Quarters tink into the jukebox as the next round of tunes are chosen, boisterous laughter nearly drowning out the melody. It’s Hunters’ Night at the roadhouse, a gathering coming off of a recent win from bringing the world back from the brink of yet another apocalypse, and spirits are at an all-time high.

Glass clinks and pool balls clack while everyone is in their groups, regaling each other with their wins and close-calls and relishing in the memories of hunters who paid the ultimate price for the safety of the world.

A young hunter who has yet to find his footing with a clique edges his way into a conversation during a lull. “Boy, I might give my right arm for a night with that one,” he gestures with his beer bottle to a woman playing pool across the bar. Though the room is packed, patrons steer clear of the woman as they mosey around.

“That wouldn’t be all you give, Tommy,” Fred chuckles, elbowing his partner who joins him in laughter when he realizes who the topic of conversation is. Tommy, not happy with being laughed at, purses his lips and shoves himself up from his barstool aiming to walk toward the woman calling her shot for the 8-ball to the corner pocket. “I’m serious, son,” Fred warns, grabbing the young hunter’s arm and tugging him back toward the table. “Her old man don’t play about her. Leave that one alone if you wanna stay breathing.”

Tommy yanks his arm from Fred’s grip, looking around the room with a cocky grin. “Old man, where? I don’t see him around, so he must not give a shit or she wouldn’t be here by herself and looking like that in a bar full of pent-up hunters.” 

Fred’s mouth downturns and his hands open in surrender. “Better to die pretty than prudent. Eh, boy?” 

Tommy scoffs, muttering under his breath about old men and their bullshit while he smooths his hair and straightens his shirt, locking onto his target. The woman who caught his eye is leaned against the pool table, finishing her beer while her recent opponent counts his cash a second time before handing her the money. “Pleasure doing business with you, Boyd,” the woman grins, tucking her winnings into her bulging pocket. The young hunter steps into her line of sight, inhaling to speak when he’s interrupted by a server bringing the woman her next beer and a double-shot of whiskey. She turns away from Tommy, only for him to maneuver into her path again. He sees her avert her gaze behind him for a long second before her face softens into a beautiful smile.

“That was a great game, gorgeous. Seems like you really know your way around a stick,” the young hunter sports a devilish grin, stepping closer to her and putting his hand close to hers on the pool cue she’s holding. Being new to the hunting world, Tommy doesn’t notice how the roadhouse has gone quiet, all attention shifting to this interaction.

“How about a game, then? What’s your name, honey?” she asks, her voice strong and sweet. She moves around him to set up the next game.

“Tommy,” he eagerly answers, grabbing a pool cue from the stand behind him and tracking to the end of the table where the woman is. “What’s yours, sweetheart?” he asks, lightly touching her chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Y/N,” she answers, turning her face out of his grip and stepping back to her beer. “What are the stakes, Tommy?” Y/N gestures with her bottle toward the pool table.

“One night.”

She chuckles, “Come again?”

“You’ll be cumming all night, if I have anything to say about it,” Tommy smirks. “One night with you if I win.” Laughter erupts nearby from drunken hunters. Not to be deterred, he pushes on. “How ‘bout it?”

“I’ll take that bet,” Y’N agrees, her siren eyes locked with Tommy. “Winner shoots first; step aside.” The young hunter moves a half-step away, leaving a narrow space between him and the table for her to navigate to the other side of the table to break the rack. Y/N takes her time bent over to line up her shot, sinking two balls. “You’re stripes, hotshot.” She takes one more shot and intentionally misses.

Each takes a few more shots, watching each other for different reasons as the game goes on. His back to the crowd, Tommy is aiming and pays no mind to a chair scraping across the floor near the table, only looking up when a worn boot steps onto the felted table. 

“Hey! What the f--” Tommy grunts as his neck is damn-near flattened, pinned to the slate. Unable to move up or backward, the young hunter paws at the leg of his captor in an effort to get loose. 

“I could've given you some grace before I found out you were warned better than to make a pass at my wife. Just because you don't see me doesn't mean I don't have eyes on her at all times to make sure chucklefucks like you don't try something she doesn't like.”

“P-ple--” Tommy struggles to plead for mercy with his lungs burning from lack of oxygen. His terrified eyes strain to meet the steady force of green glaring back at him.

“Dean,” Y/N says boredly as she inspects her nails, garnering the attention of both men and the room. “Don’t get blood on the table again, please.”

Rolling his eyes and sighing, Dean let up on Tommy’s neck. The young hunter sucked in a lung-full and tried to move back, only to be kicked in the face and knocked backwards.

“No, please!” Tommy exclaimed, blood spilling from nose and mouth already.

“I oughta take a finger for each time you touched my wife and another for every time you thought about it.” Dean glowered, twisting the heel of his boot on the young hunter’s knuckles, the tread tearing his skin. Dean kneels to get eye to eye with Tommy, who screams at the weight on his hand. Dean grips Tommy’s jaw and slams his head into the pool table behind him. “All ego and no skill is gonna get you dead, boy. Now get the fuck out of my bar.” He gets up and steps away from the young hunter, reaching a hand out to touch Y/N, who curls into his side.

“Tip your server, too. Thanks for playing, honey,” Y/N grins at Tommy, directing Dean back to his barstool to relax for the rest of the night. Chatter slowly starts to build again as patrons make way for the bloodied young hunter to head to the front door, finding it blocked.

His shoulders sag, expecting another fight but met with an upturned hand. Eyebrows furrowed, Tommy looks up sorely at the hunter blocking the door.

“Tab and tip,” Fred says simply. Tommy sighs, reaching into his pocket for his wallet to hand Fred some cash to cover his beers. The seasoned hunter counts the money, reaching into Tommy’s wallet and snatches a few extra bills for a tip before moving out of the way and handing the money to Kiara to settle the books.

Masterlist

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader [platonic]

Word Count: 662

Summary: Reader gets insulted while working a case but the boys have her back.

A/N:  I do not own the picture used! 

“Feds are allowing skirts to do the leg work nowadays, huh?  Don’t eat too many of those donuts there, sweetheart; you’ll lose your figure.  We all know how much you need that to be in your favor,” the robust deputy cackled, cramming the rest of the powdered donut into his mouth, patting your hip with his other hand.

You inhaled deeply, summoning everything within your being to not fuck this guy up. “My excellent marksmanship and interrogation skills are higher up in things that are in my favor than my ‘figure’, pal.  And I’m not just good for a skirt ; I’m best in my unit.  Keep your mouth up and you’ll find that out.”

You hear Sam snort behind you before he regains his composure. 

“Step aside, darlin’,” you hear behind you.  You turn to see Dean rubbing his hands together as he licks his lips.  “Nothing gets between a man and his donuts.”  

Having not heard the exchange between you and the deputy as he had been flirting with the receptionist, Dean unknowingly throws you over the edge with his comment.

You turn, stalking off to search for some space to breathe in peace.

 “She’s pissed, isn’t she?” Dean muffles around his mouthful.

“Yeah,” Sam sighs.  “I got her,” he mumbled as he turned to follow you down the hallway of the police station.  Even with your short stature and being in heels, you were able to put some distance between you.  Sam breaks into a light jog, quickly weaving through staff as he follows the sound of your heels down the hallway.

“Y/N!” he calls your name, putting the “agent” facade aside for the moment.  You turn on the ball of your foot, causing Sam to stop short to keep from running into you.

“Don’t you dare come down here defending that asshole, Sam,” you warn, stepping towards him with your finger raised and your eyes narrowed.  Sam puts his hands in the air as if asking for a cease-fire.

“I’m not here to defend anyone.  I’m here to check on you and calm you down.”

“I am no less of a hunter or investigator just because I’m a woman, and I know I’d be a better cop or agent than that piece of shit,” you quitely fume, leaning your back against the wall of the hallway.

“Without a doubt,” Sam agreed with you.  You look up at him stoically, feeling as if he’s only agreeing with you to placate you so that you can focus on the case again.  You begin to walk further down the hall towards the exit, only for Sam to lightly grab your upper arm.  You look down at his hand before meeting his eyes, a daring glare on your face.

“Y/N, you know that Dean and I see you as our equals, right?” he asserts, his voice low.

“Equal to the legendary Winchesters?” you whisper sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

“Equal to us as men, as human beings,” Sam clarifies.  “We don’t dismiss that you’re a woman, but we don’t believe you’re limited by it either,” he paused to tilt your chin up so your eyes met his. “There isn’t anyone on this planet we would choose over you to have our backs day in and day out.  I sincerely apologize if we’ve made you feel any other way up ‘til now.”

You smile at him thankfully.  “C’mon, let’s go bust this case open, now that we’ve got the chick flick moment out of the way.”

Sam belly laughs, shaking his head as he dutifully follows you, happy to see confidence back in your strut.

Meanwhile...

Dean encroaches into the deputy’s space, “Yeah, you ever touch her again, I’ll break your face.” Dean snarls, “And then, I’ll let her finish you.”  He claps the deputy on his back before breaking into a wide grin when you walk back into the room with Sam in tow.  “Ah, Agents!  Let’s get this rolling, shall we?”

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 572

Summary: You come home from a business trip to see Dean and your son napping. Dean was ecstatic to be a stay-at-home father, allowing you to continue the career that you worked so hard to build.

A/N:  I do not own the picture used! 

You come home from a business trip to see your husband and son snuggling in your bed for a mid-afternoon nap.  You go into the spare bedroom to change from your button-up and slacks to sweatpants and one of Dean’s undershirts before climbing in bed with the pair, your son laying between you.  You lean down, kissing the crown of your son’s head before taking Dean’s left hand, kissing every knuckle before placing a final kiss on his wedding ring.  When you look up, Dean is awake and smiling softly, happy to just lay eyes on you after three days.

“Hey,” you whisper, returning his smile. “Hey, Mama.  We missed you, ya know?” Dean whispered, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I know, baby.  I wish I didn’t have to do these damn trips anymore.  I hate being away from my boys," you pout. “Once you get that promotion, maybe you won’t have to worry about going away anymore.  For now, just get some rest, okay?” Dean whispers, gently moving a loose lock of hair behind your ear. “I love you, honey,” you mumbled, sleep clouding your mind quickly. “I know,” Dean smiled, making you chuckle quietly.  

xXxXxXxXxXxXxX

When you woke up a few hours later, the bed was empty.  You frowned, pulling yourself out of the bed and rubbing your eyes sleepily.  You walked into the kitchen to see an early dinner cooking on the stove, Dean feeding your son while quietly singing to him.  Tears pricked your eyes at the sight of your family, even in the most routine settings.  Dean was an amazing dad and a wonderful husband; there was nothing else in the world to make your life more complete.  You couldn’t be more thankful to Dean for understanding that you weren’t built to be a stay-at-home mom.  Dean was happy to take on the role of a stay-at-home dad, never feeling threatened by you continuing your career while he did the majority of raising your son.  It all worked in a perfect harmony.

“Mommy!” Dean said excitedly, raising his hands in the air, your son to imitating his daddy.  You laughed when you heard your son squeal, clapping his hands. “There’s my beautiful family!” you exclaimed playfully.  You walked over, kissing your giggling son repeatedly on the cheek before moving to kiss Dean, his hand finding your waist.  “Thank you for the nap,” you smiled, kissing him again. “Jet lag’s a bitch, so I figured I’d let you sleep.  Dinner’s almost done,” his fingers moved aimlessly along your sides. “Do you want me to finish feeding him so you can take care of dinner?” you offered, loving the idea of spending time with the baby. “Yeah, that’d be great,” Dean agreed, smiling as he got up from his seat and handed you the baby food and spoon.  “He’s almost done.  I’ll put him in the playpen before we start eating.”  Dean pulled you in for another kiss, his hand resting on the small of your back.  God, is there anything you hadn't missed about this man?  You pulled apart when your son released another squeal, indicating that he was still hungry and was not happy about that.  You laughed, pulling away from Dean, patting his ass as he walked toward the stove.  He smirked at you as he threw a kitchen towel over his shoulder, turning around to tend to dinner.

Your life couldn’t be more perfect.

Masterlist

Sam: “Is that a butt?”

You had just gotten in from a hunt, the fight had gone to the ground and your clothes had gotten torn.  You turned your hip to find a tear just below the hem of your underwear, meaning that your ass was shining for all to see, including Sam.

“Shut up, Sam,” you grumbled, grabbing your pajamas before heading to shower.

You stand under the stream of water, hisses escaping the showerhead as it struggles with the pressure.  The hot water dulls the aches in your muscles; back-to-back hunts were always a bitch.  You were hopeful to have a quiet few days to recuperate before catching the next whiff of madness that was, no doubt, heading your way.

Once you’d run the dingy motel’s hot water supply, you cranked the rusty knob to turn the now-freezing water off before stepping out to get dressed, thankful to finally get some sleep somewhere bigger than a car’s seat.

He’s sitting at the table doing research and writing down notes while you have your duffle on the other side of the table, laying out what you need for tomorrow and repacking the rest.  Sam uses the end of his pen to lift up the hem of your sleep shorts to reveal your ass.

“Definitely a butt.”

A/N: I don't own the images used.

Masterlist

“Sh-she’s, um -- she’s pregnant,” Sam stammered, not able to look up and meet his brother’s eyes, so sure of the disappointment they would hold.

When Dean said nothing after a beat, Sam looked tearfully up to his big brother, lost.

“What do I do?” Sam asked tearfully.  He had always dreamt of having a family, but he never thought it was in the cards for him.  He figured he would just hunt until the job killed him.  Dean sighs heavily; he doesn’t know what to say, but he knows what he’d hear from Bobby.

“You man up and do whatever you have to do to protect your family,” Dean responded, his hand gently squeezing Sam’s shoulder.  “Don’t look at me like that, Sammy.  You need to be there for her, with her.  Raise your kid and be the family we should’ve always been.”

A/N: I do not own the images used.

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 931

Summary: A night of celebration gives Dean the courage to ask you the question that's been burning on his tongue.

A/N:  I do not own the pictures used! 

It had been a while since you’d had a day to breathe and let off some steam.  You’d decided to hit up to the local bar after wrapping up a case, the latest monster of the week done and dusted.  Sam decided to be the DD since you and Dean had done most of the heavy lifting; you were shocked to see Dean toss him the keys, wiggling his eyebrows at you as a wide grin spread across his face.

You had been hunting with the Winchester brothers on and off for several years, only making the situation permanent after you began dating Dean about four years ago.

Dean grabbed the first round of drinks while you and Sam settled into the booth.  The reason you chose this bar in particular was because the marquee outside said there would be live music starting shortly.  The drinks flowed and the stress slowly melted from your body as laughs were had and taunts were exchanged.  At one point, you’d been asked to dance by a local gentleman nearing his 70s after the band had kicked up a good rhythm.  You tossed a carefree glance over your shoulder to Dean, who winked in return.

“ ‘Bout time we have something real to celebrate, don’t you think?” Dean asked, caging you against the bartop with his body.   “Like what, Dean?  Can’t exactly go painting the town red after every Scooby scrap, now can we?” you giggled. “How ‘bout you marry me?” he offered quietly into your ear.  He didn’t miss the way his voice affected you, shivers running up your spine. You reached back to grab the side of his face, kissing him on the cheek.  “How ‘bout you ask me again when you’re sober, Loverboy.” “I am sober,” he nosed at your cheek. You turned to face him; he donned a serious look, memorizing each detail of your radiant face.  “Sure thing, bud.  Not after that many shots.” “Take a peak at Sammy boy and tell me who’s hammered.” You leaned up on your tiptoes to see over his shoulder, his arms still framing your body.  Sam was sprawled out in the booth, playing with a flippable drink menu at the table as he puffed his cheeks up, exhaling deeply before laughing at the feeling. “But… we’ve ordered like 10 drinks and he’s been getting--” 

“We’ve been switching drinks while you were distracted people-watching or singing along with the band,” Dean interrupted you, biting back a smile. “So, Sam’s trashed and you’re..” you started, putting the pieces together. “Sober as a judge, sweetheart,” he answered, his hand leaving the bar to pull your body to his.  His cologne clouded your senses and space between you was quickly disappearing, “Marry me, Y/N.  I never wanna know another day without your love. You already know I’d kill for you, I’d die for you.” Your mind briefly flashed to the six months and 23 days without him, you and Sam scrambling to find a loophole to bring Dean back after a nasty run-in with an ancient beast. “I just know I have to have you forever, however long that may be for us,” he poured his soul out to you, his warm eyes never leaving yours as his heart raced trying to decipher your reaction. “Save it for the altar, Loverboy,” you chuckled.  Dean cocked his head sideways at your remark.  “You already know I’ve been yours since day one; I’m not going anywhere without you by my side as long as either of us can help it.” You smiled, leaning up to capture his lips with yours as your arms wrapped around his neck.  Dean breathed a sigh of relief, pulling you closer to him. 

Around you, a few people hooped and hollered -- loudest of all: your soon-to-be brother-in-law. “About time!” Sam laughed as you and Dean walked back to the booth he was sunk down in.  “If I had to look at his lovesick, forlorn face another DAY, I was gonna ask you for him my damn self.”  You couldn’t help but laugh at Sam.  It had clearly been a long time since he’d had this much to drink and it was a night you wouldn’t soon forget.  “C’mon you giant dope.  Let’s get you home and--” CRASH ! Sam knocked off items from the table as he struggled to right himself in the booth, “settled into bed before you destroy anything else.”  Dean helped you heave his monstrosity of a sibling out of the booth, handing you his wallet to take care of the tab while he assisted Sam towards the parking lot.   When you opened Dean’s wallet to pick between the many stolen credit cards, you saw a picture tucked underneath one of the laminated sections.  Your eyebrows furrowed and you held the wallet higher, trying to see in the dim bar lights.  Warmth spread across your chest as the familiar scene replayed in your head.  Dean had been recounting the tale of a recent hunt gone sideways to Jody, while Sam captured a picture of you laughing and Dean smiling at you, looking at you as if you were the only one in the world.  

To him, you were.

Masterlist

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 790

Summary: Sam runs into you at the grocery store and finds out why you disappeared without a trace.

A/N:  I do not own the pictures used! 

Sam looked down when he felt something hit his boot, his eyes falling on a shiny red apple on the floor next to him.

“Uh oh,” a small voice sounded next to him, echoed by that of the woman next to her.

Sam bent down, realizing the child must’ve dropped the apple, standing back up to hand it to the outstretched hand of the little girl’s mother.

“Oh, thank you.  You didn’t have to do… Sam?”

His eyebrows furrowed when he heard the woman say his name.  His eyes met hers and his breath stopped.

“Y/N.  Hey, what are the chances,” Sam nervously laughed.  “How have you been?”

“Um, pretty good, actually.  Can’t really complain,” butterflies filled your stomach the longer you stood in his vicinity.

“Good, good.  Glad to hear that,” he accepted.

“Hewwo,” the small voice chimed again.  Sam turned his head to see a tiny hand waving at him attached to a smiling little girl.

“Hello,” he chuckled, leaning down to her level.  “And what is your name?”

“Ewise!” she excitedly answered.

“Elise?!” Sam glanced for the approving nod you gave him, indicating he understood her correctly.  “What a beautiful name.  My name is Sam,” he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face when she waved again.

Sam had to admit, it was nice seeing you and finding out you were doing okay.  He made sure to include Elise in the conversation, as well, pleasantly surprised at how bright the little girl was.  His eyes were pulled from a story she was telling when he saw a man walk up, putting his hand on your waist.

“Hi, Daddy!” Elise chirped, reaching her chubby fingers to the man as he placed a box of popsicles in the large part of the cart behind her.

The man returned her smile and happily accepted her hand, “Hi, honey.”

Elise’s words registered in Sam’s mind and he looked at the man more closely, now noticing his dark hair and warm brown eyes before looking back at the fair-haired baby girl with bright eyes and something clicked in him, his smile fading.  He quickly did the math in his head and realized the child couldn’t be much older than two, and he hasn’t seen you since you left almost…three years ago.

Sam looked up at you, his jaw cocking to the side as he willed his building tears not to fall.

“Sam, this is Brandon,” you introduced quietly, “my husband.”  

His eyes shifted from boring into yours to Brandon’s welcoming face, his hand happily outstretched to greet Sam.

He cleared his throat before gripping the man’s hand and giving it a firm shake.  “Nice to meet you, Brandon.  Beautiful family you have, man,” Sam forced a smile, hoping to Chuck the man didn’t notice the shake in his voice.

“Thanks!  Couldn’t imagine a day without my girls,” Brandon beamed, looking into your eyes lovingly while he rubbed your shoulder with his hand.  A glimpse of a smile crossed your face when you glanced up at your husband, falling when your gaze returned to study the pained face of the man you once loved--the man that fathered that smiling beauty waving at strangers in the supermarket who melted over her show-stopping eyes and sing-song voice.

His face pinched up, trying like hell to hide the agony of his heart rebreaking in the damn produce aisle.  “Well, I won’t keep you any longer.  Y/N it was good to see you again.” Your mouth opened to return the sentiment, but you didn’t trust your voice, settling on a solemn smile and nod.  “Brandon, nice to meet you,” Sam shook his hand again with a tight-lipped smile.  “Elise,” his voice cracked, a tear betraying him and rolling down his cheek.  He couldn’t help but smile when her little shoulders shrugged up and she grinned so wide, her eyes closed.  “Take care, guys.”

Sam turned on the ball of his foot, willing his legs to move faster.  He discarded his basket of items at a closed checkout line before high-tailing it out the front door.  He drew lung-fulls of air through his nose, praying to make it to the solitude of his car before his resolve broke.  His trembling hands fumbled with his keys, struggling to unlock the door and a frustrated cry escaped his tight throat.  Ripping the door open, he clambered into the car and slammed the door shut, his façade falling completely and he crumpled into himself, openly sobbing.  He was thankful to have parked at the far end of the parking lot where no one was around to hear the anguished screams bubbling up from his gut while he choked his steering wheel like a mad man.

Title inspired by Should’ve been me by Mitski “When I saw the girl looked just like me And it broke my heart The lengths you went to hold me To get to have me 'Cause, I haven't given you what you need You wanted me but couldn't reach me So you went into your memory”

Masterlist

“No!” you screamed, feeling arms wrap around your waist and yank you backwards.

You jolted up, chest heaving.  The arms you felt tugging on you were just the hotel room sheets you had twisted yourself up in.

“So, what did you dream about?” Dean asked, his voice tired from the day’s events.  He had slept in the chair to give you and Sam the beds for the night.

“Sunshine and fucking unicorns, Dean,” you huffed, angrily tossing your pillow while you flipped over to face away from him.

A/N: I don't own images used.

Masterlist