#biker!dean

Riptide 🌊

It's my Priestly x Surfer Girl!Reader one-shot turned miniseries because all the characters of this movie couldn't shut tf up and teased poor Priestly endlessly 😂🤌 I'm also completely in love with this reader. She's got that cool, laid-back and flirty swagger going on and is turning around his head pretty instantly. I also got to dive a little into surfer culture during this. Pretty chill lol 😎✌️☮️

Here's the summary, which I've already shared over on Patreon:

When a former mystery employee and local surf legend returns to the Beach City Grill, Priestly is instantly pulled into a riptide of emotions until he finally decides to make some waves in his life.

Midnight Oil

Oh, Biker!Dean is a sight for sore eyes, am I right? 👀🫠 Haven't written a lot for this since I'm planning it for fall, but here's the gist:

Dean has taken over the family biker gang. Reader is his high school ex-girlfriend, who returns to town after being gone for a few years. She enters the local biker bar hangout and meets Dean there, telling him she needs a job. Old feelings resurface and they start something up again. BUT here's the twist: reader is actually an undercover cop, trying to bring the gang and their illegal activities down...

Can't wait to share that one!! 😂

Echoes of Tomorrow

Phew, honestly, this is one of those WIPs I'm mostly writing for myself because it's a bit of a canon rewrite AU, starting in freakin' season 2 lmao. But I do think the idea is pretty cool (obviously lol 😂), so I've been goofing around with it a bit 🤪

Concept:

Shortly after John's death and losing the Colt, Sam finds hints to another weapon in John's research. Welp, turns out that "weapon" are actually "elemental families." I went based off the concept for Chuck/Amara as Light/Darkness and found the concept about "elemental forces," and figured, "Hey, let's add some more!" 😅 The lore I've built around this is that each family acts as a guardian and ensures the wrold essentially keeps spinning. The "weapon" is always passed down to the firstborn of each generation after the last one dies. However, Sam and Dean then discover the weapon isn't an object at all but a living, breathing person (aka reader lol). Poor reader doesn't even know she has powers, though, or what these two tall dudes on her doorstep even want from her. Well, she kinda joins them then and that's where the alternate timeline of spn really starts... There's also a lot of mystery around her background story and parents and a blooming frenemies to lovers romance with Dean (because of course he wants to kill her when he finds she isn't human. Thank God for death-vision, freak-child Sam!!) 🤣

Yeah, not sure I'll ever share this (or even get to finish it in this lifetime), but we'll see. I did enjoy sharing this concept haha!! Also, who can't get enough these two knuckleheads? 🫶 (Honestly, this series might just me being nostalgic about Supernatural lol)

She knew his name was Dean Winchester, that he seemed to be around six feet, had amazing green eyes, full sleeve tattoos which she glimpsed one Friday when he wasn’t wearing his leather jacket, amongst others that she had seen previously, and a killer smirk. She stood behind the bar, watching him when his gang was otherwise occupied, observing the way he moved. The blonde in his lap had her legs draped over him, his fingers lightly running over her bare skin up to the hem of her jean skirt. Every time he came in she tried very hard to avoid turning in his vicinity, but when you looked like him that was difficult to do.

Y/N walked around the room, preoccupied with clearing glasses and handing them over to her co-worker, Josh, behind the bar. Passing by the back table, she tried not to focus on them, but she felt a shiver run down her spine as she briefly met Dean’s eyes. He glanced away from the blonde, his green orbs flicking up to see Y/N turn behind the dark wood ledge. She mixed a drink for the customer in front of her, and smiled as she pushed it towards them, feeling his intense gaze on her. A smirk pulled at his plump lips before he looked away, causing her to squeeze her thighs together. She knew she shouldn’t have been thinking about his mouth between legs considering he could be capable of anything, but on the other hand, she was hoping that he was capable of anything. Especially with those lips.

She thought that it would be one time that it occurred, but as the night wore on and her shift dragged on, she found herself meeting his eyes more and more. At one point she caught his eyes roam up her right arm, taking in the tattoo that wrapped the length of her arm and down to her wrist, depictions of a pin up woman, skulls, small birds and quotes all in the vintage style. She bit her lip as she walked away, unable to resist glancing over her shoulder and flashing him a quick smile as she caught him staring at the curve of her ass in her shorts.

The night wore on as people started to leave, and before she even realized it, it was time for the last round. Pulling the rope on the bell that was attached to the wall behind the bar, she rang it obnoxiously as multiple groans echoed through the room.

“Last call!”

Y/N started wiping down the empty tables after customers left, her heavy boots dragging across the floor as she grew more tired with every hour that passed. As she sprayed the surface with the cleaning product, she felt Dean’s eyes on her again. Her eyes flicked up to see him watching her every move, a small smirk playing at his lips. She sighed as she stood up, throwing her shoulders back as she mustered up the confidence to walk over there. Stopping in front of the group, she slung her bar cloth over her shoulder, gesturing to the bar at the other end of the room.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” she asked, softly.

“Whatever’s left of the Jack, leave the bottle,” Dean replied, staring up at her as she turned to look at him. His eyes scanned down her arm, and further to her thigh, the tattoo peeking out slightly from under her shorts, before they moved up again, meeting hers. “Nice ink.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, her lips pulling up despite her better judgment. “I’ll be right back.”

She held her breath in as she quickly grabbed the half bottle of Jack Daniels and placed it on their table, finally exhaling once she was behind the bar. She and Josh went around the bar and collected glasses, and soon, she heard the chairs at Dean’s table scrape against the floorboards. She turned around and finally a slight pang in her chest as she watched him put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table and leave with the others, his arm wrapped around the blonde woman’s waist, the next smoke between his fingers ready to be lit.

As she swept the floor, she decided to let it go. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen, and clearly it was for the best. She guessed she would never find out what he was capable of.

Dean stepped out of the bar and placed the cigarette between his lips, flicking his lighter on and burning the end, breathing in deeply before he let out a large puff of smoke. His boots crunched against the gravel as he walked over to his sleek, black motorcycle. He swiped a hand down his face as he looked back at the bar, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he contemplated going back in. He knew Y/N would be closing as she did every Friday, and he had always thought about staying back and seeing what came of spending time with her. He always had an eye on her whenever they were there, but never did anything about it, knowing it was better to not get involved with someone. He found it hard to resist this time around, though.

“Dean,” he heard the blonde who’s name he had already forgotten call out to him, causing him to turn back to his bike. He saw her sitting on top, ready for him to get on in front of her.

“I’m staying,” he said, taking another drag from his cigarette.

“What?” she asked, frowning as she got off and strutted over to him. “What do you mean?”

“I uh… I’m gonna head back later,” he explained, taking another drag before he dropped the smoke on the ground, putting it out with his boot. “So you better catch a ride with someone else.”

Without another word, he made his way back to the bar. He heard her muttering annoyedly before the deep rumble of the bikes started, roaring as everyone rode off into the night. Dean pushed the door open, taking slow strides into the room as he looked around, scowling as he didn’t see Y/N. He sat down on a stool at the bar, drumming his fingers on the dark mahogany surface as he waited. The swing door to the back flung open as Y/N entered, and she stopped in her tracks as she saw him. She definitely wasn’t expecting to see him there, when she had seen him walk out with the hope that something would happen. Suddenly the hope had resurfaced.

“Thought I’d order one for the road,” he stated, smirking.

“I don’t usually do that, but I can make an exception,” she muttered, standing in front of him instead behind the bar. She reached over and picked up a bottle of Johnny Walker and two glasses, placing them on the ledge. She poured two fingers into each glass, sliding one over to him. He reached into his back pocket, but she placed her hand on his shoulder to stop him. “On the house.”

He raised an eyebrow, picking up his glass and holding it up to her. “Cheers.”

They clinked their glasses together as she crossed her right leg over her left, the edge of her shorts riding up to expose more of her tattoo, the roses on her thigh more visible. She smiled as she saw his eyes glance down before he sipped his whiskey. The drinks were just delaying the inevitable, and she had a feeling that neither of them wanted to leave this at one drink and go their separate ways.

She put the glass down without even taking a sip, looking at him through her lashes. “So… you didn’t just come back here for a night cap.”

He chuckled, the sound better than music to her, as he leaned forward, their faces close to each other. “You’d be right.”

Dean’s hand gently grazed her knee, sliding up her soft skin and settling at the end of her shorts. They gazed into each other’s eyes, as he threw his drink back before he leaned in, his lips brushing over hers.

“You gonna show me the rest of this?” he asked, his thumb running over the tattoo.

“Depends,” she whispered, her eyes drifting over the tattoos on his arms and parts of his chest that she could see through the open buttons of his tattered, plaid shirt.

“On?”

“On whether you’re gonna show me the rest of yours?” she challenged, staring deep into his green orbs.

Dean cupped her face in his hands, pulling her closer to pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was rough, their mouths harshly moving against each other’s, their hands gripping tight to each other’s clothes, their movements frantic and needy. They stood up as they continued their primal embrace, his hands sliding down to the top of her shorts and unbuttoning them, a harsh gasp leaving her as she pulled away, pushing them down her legs and flinging them off her boots. She pulled the edge of her black tank top up, tossing it aside, standing in front of him in just her black lace panties. His eyes glazed over with lust as he saw the rest of her thigh tattoo, a skull surrounded by roses, and the large dragonfly on her ribcage, under her breasts. He pulled her towards him, the roughness in their kisses still there, still demanding as she tugged at his leather jacket. He stripped quickly, removing it as his ripped, sleeveless plaid following it along with the black t-shirt he wore underneath.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands sliding down her body, his thumbs skimming over the dragonfly.

Y/N reached for his belt but he grabbed her hands, a barely audible moan leaving her as she looked up at him. He quickly turned her around, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips as he pushed his hand into her back, her breasts pressed into the bar top. His calloused fingers drifted down her spine, little bumps appearing along her skin at his touch, her breath hitching as she felt him grip her panties. A loud tear of fabric caused her to gasp, as she attempted to glance back at him. He took both her hands and folded them at her back, using the ruined material to tie them together, making sure it was tight. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt his hands press into the globes of her ass, gripping the flesh, hard.

“Your ass is fucking perfect,” he muttered, leaning in and pressing his lips to her flesh, nipping slightly as she sank to his knees.

Spreading her legs, Dean moved his head between, his tongue licking a long stripe against her folds, slowly repeating the action a few times and feeling her wetness grow. A whimper left her as she pressed her forehead into the dark wood under her. He continued his actions, a groan vibrating against her as he tasted her on his skilled muscle. Her legs shook as she tried to close them, unable to handle his ministrations as he picked up the pace, teasing her tight canal.

“Fuck, yes,” she moaned, loudly as she pressed her cheek into the surface. “Just like that, so good, Dean…”

Her thighs pressed together, causing him to shift back, his eyebrows pulled into a deep scowl. He lifted his hand and brought it down against her right globe, fast and hard. She cried out as she huffed a laugh, a thrill running through her at the sting against her flesh.

“Open your legs,” he ordered, his voice deep and husky. “Close ‘em again and I spank this ass raw.”

“Fuck,” she whispered, slowly shifting her legs apart.

Dean continued his ministrations, his tongue licking along her folds and moving to tease her entrance repeatedly, as he gripped her ass in his hands. She pushed back into him, wanting him where she needed him most, but he pulled back with a chuckle, pressing his fingers into her ass cheeks. She whimpered softly, feeling her legs give out as her toes stretched to hold herself up, her thighs closing once more. Dean stood up and lifted his hand, bringing it down against the left globe, the sound resonating in the bar.

“Shit,” she hissed, shifting against the ledge.

“What did I say, sweetheart?” he asked, glaring down at her.

She bit her lip to keep from smiling, unable to look back at him. He smirked as he looked down at her, his hand easing the sting as he rubbed her skin, before he lifted his hand once more, bringing it down hard against the same spot.

She cried out, moaning as her mouth pulled up. “Fuck…”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, his jeans tight as his hard dick strained against the fabric. Y/N couldn’t keep the delight off her face as he heard his belt clink and the zipper come down, her eyes fluttering shut as he teased her entrance. He lined up to her, gnawing at his lip as he stared down at her. In one swift motion of his hips, he thrust into her, a long, wanton moan falling from her lips as she felt her walls sheath him completely, his dick buried deep inside her. He set a hard and fast pace, his hand sliding up her back and into her hair, his fingers gripping tight and pulling her head up as his hips smacked against her ass.

“Feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he groaned, leaning over her, his chest pressed into her back as his lips nipped at her ear lobe. “So fucking tight and perfect.”

“D-Dean,” she whimpered, turning her head to look up at him. “So good.”

Bringing her close, cradling her head in his hand as he pulled her hair, his dark chuckle fanned against the shell of her ear. His free hand slipped up her body, rolling her nipple as he palmed her right breast, his fingers drifting up to dance across her neck. They wrapped around her throat, a loud moan escaping her as he applied a slight pressure.

“Is this what you wanted when you kept teasing me tonight, Y/N?” he asked, his voice rasping into her ear.

She nodded frantically, unable to speak.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“Y-Yes,” she choked out.

Her walls clenched around his shaft as he continued to pound into her, so deep he was pressing into her cervix with every thrust. His hand applied more pressure, a gasp leaving her as her throat constricted. Her eyes rolled back, the roots of her hair pulled against her scalp and stung, but it was the most freeing, pleasurable experience she had ever had with a man. She wheezed as the tension against her neck built, but it heightened everything else she was feeling. Dean let go of her throat, the air rushing to her lungs as she felt her core tighten, the clear sign that she was close to her release. His fingers slipped into her mouth as he continued to thrust into her, his pelvis smacking against the globes of her ass, a moan escaping her as her lips closed around them.

“Of course it's what you wanted,” he whispered in her ear, smirking, “that’s what all little sluts want.” He slowly thrust his fingers into her mouth, moving them back and forth as she whimpered, making him chuckle, “show how you’re gonna suck my cock later, sweetheart, come on…”

Y/N sucked his fingers deep into her mouth, her throat relaxing as they pressed in further. She moaned around them, everything he was making her feel in that moment rushing straight to her core.

“Fuck yes,” he growled, watching her take them perfectly, “can’t wait to feel those lips around my dick, taking it deep, letting me fuck that throat…”

He pulled his fingers out and pressed his hand into her neck, holding her down against the bar top as his hips snapped harshly against hers, a string of moans falling from her lips as she couldn’t communicate her carnal pleasure in any other way.

“You wanna cum, don’t ya, sweetheart?” he asked, teasingly as he smirked. “Cum for me, Y/N, wanna feel you soak my cock…”

He grunted as he felt her walls contract around him, and he knew he was close to the edge too. She whimpered as felt the coil deep within her tighten, like a rope that was frayed and barely holding together. With a last hard thrust of his hips, she cried out his name as her arousal covered him, her body quivering as she came harder than she ever had with anyone else she had been with. His hands pressed into her flesh, no doubt leaving bruises that would be discovered in morning, his neck straining back as his dick throbbed, ropes of his seed spilling deep inside her as he groaned.

Dean shifted back from Y/N, breathing heavily as she was too. He smirked as he untied her hands, their eyes meeting as she turned around slowly, a satisfied smile on her face. Her eyes roamed over his body, biting her lip as she took in his tattoos over his arms, chest and thighs. She needed more time with him despite the voice in her head telling her it wasn’t a good idea.

They redressed in comfortable silence, quick glances between them as they both anticipated what might happen next. She cleared up the rest of the bar before she closed up, shifting on her feet as she contemplated whether to walk to her car or over to Dean. He sat on his bike, his cigarette lit as he flicked the ash, blowing out a puff of smoke. He eyed her, a smirk pulling at his lips as he held it out, tempting her to take it as well as a challenge to see if she’d join him.

“We can come back for it in the morning,” he reassured her, nudging his head towards her car.

She nodded, slowly, stepping closer to him. “My place or yours?”

“Definitely yours,” he replied, winking.

Taking her hand in his, he pulled her close and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, much different to what occurred inside. She moved back and took the cigarette from him, taking a drag before she dropped it on the floor and put it out. He helped her climb onto his bike, handing her the helmet and starting the engine, the deep rumble vibrating under them. She wrapped her arms around his waist, smiling wide as she leaned her cheek into his back.

“Ready?” he asked, grinning as he looked back at her.

“Yeah,” she replied, giggling.

He laughed as he turned the bike, kicking up the small shards of gravel as they took off out of the parking lot. She squealed as they sped down the road in the dark, her hands tightening around him but not of fear. She sighed deeply, her mind reeling with thoughts of everything that happened back in the bar, and all the possibilities of what could occur at her apartment.

Suddenly her Saturday was looking up too.

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Snarling at the reflection in the mirror, Dean adjusted the sleeves of his leather jacket and popped his collar. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t wear that jacket, he knew he looked good and he felt good too, he felt the confidence surge through his entire body when he put on that jacket, zipped up his boots, and put on his sunglasses.

Dean locked up his door, not that anyone would even think about setting foot into his home but it was a habit that he got from his mom that he just couldn’t shake. He made his way to the garage, to his beloved bike just sitting there waiting to be ridden that day. It was usually to the bar he frequented but she would settle for down the street. The garage door tilted up to open, the sunlight streaming in as much as the door would allow with a press of a button.

A jingle of his keys and the engine roared to life. Dean hummed before his foot kicked the stand to ride his bike freely. He forgoes his helmet, his hair is too perfect today and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

The garage door closes behind him. Dean doesn’t have a particular area in mind to travel to this time, he’ll settle for just cycling until he is ready to park his bike somewhere. He turns down an unfamiliar road twenty minutes later, a nice change from the neighborhood that he’s so used to. It’s a lot of sunshine and rainbows, and happiness and joy. It’s disgusting. It’s terrifying more so than the people he deals with on a regular basis; and that included psychopaths and deranged murderers. He sneered at the brightness of it all until he saw her.

*

You were wearing a huge smile on your face as you took a peek outside of the window to check on today’s weather. Sun! It was definitely a day to put on your floppy sun hat. Doing a little happy dance, you grabbed your cute little watering can and filled it to the brim with cold water; your babies needed feeding.

Smiling as you got out to the front lawn, the condition of the plants was a top priority in your mind. You were prepared with your knee pillow - because a little support goes a long way. Making your way to the area where the plants needed water the most. You were in your happy place and this neighborhood was definitely one of the reasons to thank for it. It wasn’t long before you were softly singing to the beauties, like you did every morning.

Suddenly there was a loud crash that startled you, making you spill half of the remaining water all over the paved pathway and down your dress. When you looked up, you saw a man you could only assume was thrown from his motorcycle. You leapt into action, your hat long forgotten about as it flew off of your head in the commotion.

Looking out onto the road, you were lucky to find no cars or other vehicles around the area; almost deserted. You get down on your knees beside the man before gripping onto his shoulder and adding a little pressure just above his collarbone, he groans in what you can only imagine to be pain.

“Hey. Hi.” You started, your eyes searching his, your hand raising to his face to keep his concentration on you. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You know that it’s a dumb question, to ask a man that has just been in an accident if he is okay but you ask it anyway, not know what else you could say. Eyes examining his body, you saw no life threatening outside injuries other than a few cuts and maybe a bruise starting to form on his hand.

“I got distracted. Nothing major. This ain’t shit, had injuries much worse than this.”

“You should really wear a helmet on one of these things, as you’ve learned the hard way, they are pretty dangerous.” You gave him a half scoff, half laugh.

“Helmet hair is not really my style, sweetheart.” He laughed with you, taking the hand you held out for him to help him at least sit up.

“Brain damage isn’t really mine or anyone else’s, I think, sweetheart. You got lucky, Sir, real lucky”

“It’s just a lamppost.”

“It’s just a cut. Cut’s can still get infected. What if you have a concussion?”

“Very persistent, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely. You need a drink or something before you climb back onto that death trap with two wheels and ride off into the sunset to do whatever it is you do…” You paused waiting for him to supply you with a name which he finally gave.

“Dean. But I like Sir, does things to me.”

“I bet it does. All right, Dean. Are you good to stand up?” You search his face for any indication that he was okay to move. When he nodded at you, you braced yourself for the weight that you were about to take, a small wince shooting across his face, going as soon as it came. It was a bad guy act you supposed, he didn’t want to show any emotion or drop the façade you were sure he was holding on to. “Yeah you look like it’s totally nothing. Bloody lunatic.”

“Words like that could get you killed by the wrong people, little lady.”

“It’s Y/N.” You huff, settling down into the nearest chair. “You haven’t killed me yet. But you saying that… are you the wrong people, Dean?”

“Depends on who you ask, Y/N. To some, I’m an angel, to others, I’m a demon.

“Oh yeah, that really narrows it down for me. Thank you.” You scratch at the side of your head before you find yourself in the kitchen grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge as well as a cloth from your drawer and filling a bowl with warm water. “Where are you going?”

He was caught, almost at the front door. “Back home. I’m fine.”

“When anyone says that they’re fine, it’s usually a sign that they’re not really fine. How about you take off your jacket and sit back down?”

“And what would I get in return?” He smirks, already having his jacket halfway down his arms.

You raised your eyebrow, cocking your head as you feigned a concentrated look. Pretending that you were thinking about it, with a pout before tapping your finger to your lips. “You can leave after I’m finished and go wherever you, tough guys on motorcycles, go.”

“What if I took you out for dinner as a thank you.” He tries to bargain with you, his face turning as bright as the neighborhood he was in. Maybe it was the neighborhood that was changing him.

“You’d be prepared to take me out to have a good steak or a huge lobster?” You teased him, a huge smile on your face as you dabbed the cloth on his bloodstained skin.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

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“Yesterday morning. Around 11. I went out to check the mail and there he was.” It had scared you to find Baker parked outside, eyes boring into you. You had kept your eyes locked on his as you brought up your phone, snapped a picture and then called Brady. “I’d like to file a police report of continued harassment despite a restraining order. This isn’t good for my pregnancy. My doctor is worried.” You then slipped them a note from your doctor about the stress.

“Can I get a copy of this picture?”

“Of course.” They handed you your phone back and you were given an email to send the photo to.

Days turned to weeks as interviews continued, evidence was questioned and each and every lie Baker told was revealed. The stress of it all had gotten to be too much, your doctor putting you on temporary bedrest. All information about the case went through Sam, and you only heard bits and pieces of the good stuff, only things that would give you hope.

You saw Azazel a few times since that day in the grocery store. You’d walked out of your last doctors appointment to find him in the waiting room, eyes on you as you hurried past, Sam's hand on your lower back to keep you calm. Dean got a picture of that, too.

But since then, nothing. No Azazel, no Baker. Sam said Baker was under surveillance, and Azazel was now being hunted for betraying the patch. Apparently, someone had dropped a video of the arrest at the garage on their doorstep and they finally listened to what Dean had been telling them. One of their top guys was working the other side. And word was getting around fast.

It was another quiet day. Alex was at school, Abby was napping and you were relaxing in bed with a book while Sam headed out on a quick errand. Something about needing to pick something up for dinner, but he’d be back by the time Abby woke up. He promised. You hadn’t minded. Sam had been stuck to you like glue for so long now you relished the time alone. Finally.

The words started to blur, your eyelids getting heavy. Letting the book fall from your hand, you rolled onto your side, pulling the pillow close and letting yourself drift off to sleep.

A piercing sound snapped you awake and panic instantly set in. A fire alarm. Your fire alarm. It sounded like it was coming from downstairs. Getting up, you rushed down and followed the sound to the kitchen. You expected to find Sam cooking but instead found your stove on fire.

You were confused, how could that have happened, no one else seemed to be home and unless you slept walked down and then back to bed, it hadn't been you. You ran to yank open the cupboard under the kitchen sink and pulled out the fire extinguisher, working as fast as you could to get the fire put out.

As the flames died, you noticed something on your stove. A hand towel. It was mostly burned, some blackened shreds all that remained. You looked around the kitchen, looking for anything else out of place but found nothing. Brutus was barking wildly at the back door, desperate to get inside as his claws scratched against the glass every time he jumped against it. You had forgotten he’d been let out before you laid down.

You sighed with relief despite the uncertainty. You were just glad it was out, that no one was hurt. But before you could relax, let alone let Brutus back in, another smoke detector started going off. This time, upstairs.

“Abby!” Running as fast as you could back for the front stairs, you almost fell when he stepped out in front of you, blocking you off from the stairs and the front door. “Move.” You threatened, fire extinguisher clutched tight in your hands. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, just gave you that cold dead stare he seemed to always be giving you. Your eyes shot to the stairs, this time a click of his tongue grabbed your attention over the sounding alarm and Abby’s cries.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Screaming, you went to take a swing at him with the fire extinguisher, but he far too easily knocked it from your hands. Then he swung, the back of his hand hitting your cheek hard. So hard in fact, that you fell to the floor, eyes wide with shock and fear.

“Why are you doing this to me? I didn’t do anything to you.. Please.. Please, just let me get to my daughter. Let me get her out. You want me, you can have me, please.. Just let me save her.”  He just stepped closer, no answer, no change in his face at all. You tried to get up anyways, and he just hit you again. “WHY!?” you screamed at him as tears ran down your cheeks.

You were scared, you were terrified, it was that day all over again in your head, but just like that day you had a child to protect. You could hear Abby’s screams and it was killing you that you couldn’t get her, protect her.

“Because Dean Winchester deserves it.”

“FUCK YOU!”  A boot came up in a kick, and you twisted yourself enough that the side of your ribs took the brunt of it instead of your stomach, but it didn’t stop you from crying out in pain.

Then he was leaning over you. “I’m going to make you hurt. I’m going to make it hurt so fucking bad you can’t move.” he smiled at you. “Then I’m going to watch your house burn down around you. Watch as that son of yours finds you. Then kill him too.” You shifted, ready to try fighting back, take a swing, anything, but he grabbed your face by the cheeks in one hand and put a gun to your head which effectively stopped any and all plans.  “Then I’m going to wait. I don’t care how long it fucking takes, I’m going to wait. I want to see the look on his fucking face when he comes home to nothing. Because that piece of shit husband of yours took everything from me.”

Your eyes shot to the stairs again, Abby’s screams louder than anything to your ears, and he pushed the gun harder against your temple bringing your attention back to him. His gaze locked on yours.

Suddenly his face changed, and there was a blur of someone running past and up the stairs. Sam. You’d know that giant frame in a plaid button up anywhere. He was going for Abby, he was going to save her. Nothing else mattered.

Until you looked up and behind the man who still held a gun to your head. You couldn’t stop the tears that welled up all over again. “Let go of my fucking wife.” he growled out, a gun of his own in his hand and pressing into Azazel's skull.

“You’re going to have to kill m-”

You flinched as the shot rang out and blood splattered onto your face. You sat there stunned for a moment, not sure he was real as the body hit the floor. “Dean?”

“Surprise?” he gave you a half smirk.

“Dean!” you got up as fast as you could, throwing yourself against him not caring about the blood. You clung to him and cried.

“It's okay, baby. I’m home.” His arms wrapped around you almost just as tight. “You know I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”

Then Sam down the stairs, Abby in his arms. “Here.” he told you. “Take her outside. Your bed’s on fire.” Your eyes shot to Dean.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and you grabbed Abby before heading out front.

You stood there, your forehead against hers as you cried. You had been so scared you’d lose her, so scared that you’d be stuck there listening to her die. That that would be what you died with in your head.

“Mom!?” Alex rushed over and you started crying even harder. “What the fuck happened?” He asked, ignoring Ash who hurried past and into the house. “That’s it, I’m out of school, I’m not fucking leaving you again!”

“You’re going to school, end of discussion.”

Alex’s head snapped up towards the voice. “Dean!” he rushed from you to Dean, who smiled and opened his arms. There was a moment of quiet between them before Alex pulled back. “What happened!? Why does mom have blood on her?”

“Better come inside and get cleaned up, baby.” You looked over at Dean, still so afraid. “Fire’s out. You're safe now.”

“Fire!?” Alex shot  a panicked look to you and Abby, then hurried into the house and froze before getting too far. When you walked in, he was looking down at the body on the ground before he looked back up and met your eyes. “What the hell happened, mom?”

“He wanted to kill us. All of us, watch the house burn down around us so Dean would have nothing left to come home to. I thought I’d lose Abby.”

Alex turned to Sam. “I was getting Dean. Judge ruled last night he was to be released. He wanted it to be a surprise. I should have got dad to come stay with you while I was gone, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” you tried to reassure him, let him know that you didn’t blame him for this. Your voice probably wasn’t very convincing, at least not right now, not with all the pain and fear you were still processing, but you really didn’t blame Sam. “My protector showed up, right on time.” You looked up at Dean, letting him lean in and kiss you gently.

“Always, baby. I’ll always do everything in my power to keep you safe.” You gave him a small smile. “Now, get that ass up to the showers and then you’re on the couch. You’re supposed to be on bedrest.” Dean gave your ass a slap with a smirk.  “Sammy, get dad on the line, tell him to get his ass over here and not to come alone. I need this mess cleaned. Alex and I are going to head out to get a new bed. Ash, you’re on babysitting duty.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Ash mock saluted, making Dean roll his eyes.

“Baby, my jacket?”

“Where you left it.”

With another sweet and tender kiss, Dean headed upstairs and back into his bedroom. He ignored the blackened and burned bed at first, reaching into his closet and pulling out leather. It felt good to wear it again, to feel the weight of it and the patches stitched to it. His jaw tightened as he looked at the bed his children had been conceived in, the bed he’d made love to you in countless times, the bed you had been sleeping in just an hour ago. Azazel might be dead, but it didn’t end there.

And Dean had every intention of ending it.

He knew they were coming for him and he knew they’d be coming soon. He had to get away, he had to get out of town, out of the country. He needed to vanish for a while. Anything to stay out of prison. There was no way he’d survive it. Moving the curtain aside, he peeked out of the motel room and at the car he’d bought last night with cash parked directly outside. It was 2pm, and while the streets weren’t empty, everything was pretty quiet outside the Motel.

Perfect.

Baker grabbed his meager belongings, tucked his handgun into the back of his jeans, and rushed out to his car, eyes darting around as he hurried to the trunk and opened it, tossing his bag in. As he slammed the trunk shut, something was placed over his head that plunged him into darkness and he started to panic.

When he came to again, it was dark and he couldn’t move. His hands were tied behind his back, his feet tied together. He tried to get his bearings. He could hear the low rumble of an engine, the vibrations of a car driving down a highway. He knew he was in a trunk, now he just needed to find the tail lights and kick them out. Shifting around to give himself the space was difficult as he realized something else was in there with him, something big that smelt faintly of blood. He grunted when he hit his head and felt a small trickle of blood. “Shit.” he cursed and started kicking, hoping to meet his mark.

Suddenly, everything stopped, everything was quiet. Despite being in the dark under whatever was still over his head, his eyes frantically darted around as he tried to listen for what would come next.

Doors. Two of them, opening and closing, one on each side of the car.  Foot steps, but faint. So he wasn’t on a solid road anymore, and not on gravel either, or a floor or the foot falls would have more sound to them. A field?  Shit shit shit. A field meant open space. Even if he could get away and run, he’d be an easy enough target to shoot down.

The trunk opened, and hands reached in, yanking him out. He tried to fight them, tried to do what he could but he was put on his feet, dragged away from the vehicle and then kicked in the back of the knee forcing him to drop.

The hood was yanked off, and even though it was pitch black outside, he had to blink a few times before he could see where he was. The desert.

“You wanted to know where he was.” Baker’s head shot around and he found himself face to face with Dean Winchester. “You found him.” Dean pointed out into the desert, and Baker followed his finger. “There’s no marker, but he’s out there. He hurt her so I fucking killed him.”

Suddenly, a body was dropped down next to Baker, and he looked over to see Azazel, bullet wound to the head. Glancing up from the body, he saw Sam dusting off his hands. There was only one reason Dean would finally admit what he did. Baker wasn’t making it out of here alive.

“You hurt her.” Dean growled into his ear. “You fucking put my family in danger when I couldn’t protect them. She almost died.” Dean grabbed Baker by the hair and yanked his head back painfully. “MY DAUGHTER almost fucking died. Almost burned to death. Because of you.”

“I didn’t-”

“You did do this, Baker. You told him who they were, you knew what he would do. If I would have come home just an hour later..” Dean shook his head. “You can’t even imagine the level of hell I would have rained down on you.”

“Dean-” Dean straightened back up and put a gun to Baker's head. “Look I didn’t-” He was cut off by the bullet that ripped through his head and his body fell to the ground.

Dean was wiping down Baker’s gun that he’d just shot him with when his phone rang. Pulling it out of his back pocket, he smiled seeing your name light up his screen. “Hey, baby. You should be sleeping.”

“Woke up to pee and you weren’t back yet. Couldn’t get back to sleep. Are you going to be home soon?”

“I’ll be heading back home soon. Just finishing up something. You don’t need to worry, baby. No one’s ever going to hurt you again. Your protector is home. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dean. Be careful.”

“Always am.”

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging :  Protector : @jaycc7983 @volleyballer519  @meganlpie  @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo  @londoncallingbutiwontpickup    @valsworldofcreativity​   @samsgirl93​ @delightfullykrispypeach​

Dean - @akshi8278​  @adoptdontshoppets​   @evyiione​ @karikatz12481​ @idksupernatural​  @deandreamernp​

SPN -  @sandlee44​  @just-another-busy-fangirl​  @mrswhozeewhatsis​   @deanandsamsbitch​  @deans-baby-momma​  @thebescht​ @67-chevy-baby​ @supraveng​   @musiclovinchic93​ @holyfuckloueh​  @ksgeekgirl​   @hobby27​ @maddiepants​  @roxyspearing​ @onethirstyunicorn​    @fandom-princess-forevermore​     @kalesrebellion​   @deanwanddamons​   @thoughts-and-funnies​

All Cas sees, at first, is the man’s back half - clad in thick riding leathers, with a large black patch sewn in place in the center of the back of his black leather jacket that features an old west-style pistol crossed with what looks like an engine piston.  The patch underneath declares the person wearing said jacket is a member of the Iron Knights motorcycle club out of Their Town, California. A small, rectangular patch positioned to one side of the larger central patch spells out the word PRESIDENT in ornate white gothic letters.  The leathers creak with every step the man takes and something about him radiates danger, putting Castiel on immediate alert. “Marina,” he says, poking his head back into his classroom, “please be so kind and read pages 12 and 13 of chapter 11 aloud for the class.  I’ll be right back, everyone.” He doesn’t have to wonder or worry that Marina will do anything but dutifully open her textbook to the pages he indicated and start reading. Cas just has a way about him that makes people want to do as he says -- a natural confidence and comfort in his own skin that makes him an effortlessly engaging teacher for his kids.  Slipping out of his classroom, he glances back in the direction the burly man had been walking and sure enough, he’s standing at the end of the open-air hall, head ducked and glancing at a tiny slip of paper held in his hand.  Taking a deep breath, Cas smooths his hands down over his vest and straightens his tie, letting the breath out to steady himself as he trots to catch up to the man.  “Excuse me, sir -- can I help you?” He asks, doing his best to keep any hint of urgency or alarm out of his voice, no matter how much his heart might be hammering in his chest. He’s not good with confrontations, never has been, but he would fight to protect every one of these children with his last breath, if he had to.  The last thing he expects to see is what he sees when the man turns around, glancing at him over his shoulder and revealing a stunning man with a scruffily bearded chin, obscenely full, red lips and dark wrap-around sunglasses shielding his eyes from the merciless sunshine.  Now that the man has turned half-way to face him, he can see another patch on his shoulder, fitted perfectly to the round of muscle - it reads ROMEO in gothic font. “Oh!  Oh, yessir,” he replies, and there’s just the faintest hint of a southern twang to his response as he reaches up and tugs off his sunglasses, revealing eyes the color of green sea glass.  It’s that moment that Cas realizes that the man is cradling a motorcycle helmet in his hand, propped against his left hip, paper crumpling as he hooks his sunglasses into his shirt.  That done, he turns the paper about, revealing a hand with fingers dripping in ornately carved silver jewelry featuring eagles, wolves, and owls, squinting at the words written on the slip.  There’s a blue bandana tied around his throat and another green one tied around his head, covering the majority of his hair.  There’s a dashing streak of silver on one side of his beard.  Castiel is mesmerized. “’m sorry, I was just tryin’ to locate the administrator’s office.  I’m supposed to be in a meeting, uhh... shit, five minutes ago,” he explains, pausing just long enough to wince at the time displayed on the lock screen of his phone. “A m- meeting?” Cas blinks at the man for a moment, gobsmacked - because what sort of dealings could Crowley possibly have with a guy like this?  “Yeah, you -- you know the way?” The guy asks, holding the paper up and casting a hopeful look at him. Cas eyes the man for a moment and squints at the paper the man is holding - sure enough, it looks like some sort of official school district documentation on school letterhead.  Which is typical protocol for anyone who has an actual appointment with someone in their district.

Glancing back at him, he narrows his eyes at this strange new person and considers him carefully.  He has a spray of freckles across his nose and lines around his eyes and mouth, which means he’s in the sun often and smiles and laughs a lot.  Cas can see this man smiling and laughing a lot. “Certainly,” he says after a beat, shooting the man a quick, polite smile.  “Please, follow me.” The administration offices are located in the center of the school complex, so it only takes a minute of navigating a hall or three and Castiel is pushing the heavy door open with his hip, holding it open for the man.  “Donna can help you at the front desk, if you have an appointment,” he says, nodding to Crowley’s perpetually chipper administrative assistant with a smile.  “Oh, hey - thanks, man,” the guy says, one large hand patting his shoulder as he favors him with a dazzling smile. “Of course,” Cas replies, more than a little nonplussed.  This guy looks like a motorcycle hooligan and he’s wandering around the school in the middle of the day but somehow, just being near him... he doesn’t feel dangerous, at least. “I’m Dean,” the green-eyed biker says, holding out his glove-clad hand for Cas to shake.  Still processing things a bit, Cas stares at his hand for a beat or two and then takes it, giving it an extra-vigorous shake just in case, so Dean doesn’t think he didn’t want to shake hands with him.  “Dean Winchester.” “Castiel Novak.  Tenth grade English,” he rambles and presses his lips together to force himself to stop talking good lord.  “Nice to meetcha, Cas,” he says, eyes shining as he shakes his hand, giving it one last steady squeeze before releasing it.  Dean’s hand was strong, his grip steady and firm, and Cas could feel the strength in his grasp, how much raw power he was keeping in check.  “Maybe I’ll see you around, sometime.” “Y-yes!  You -- you, too,” he practically squeaks, and at least he’s not stammering (much) or tripping over his words (ugh) - which is his usual social faux pas of choice - that would be the worst.  He got the right words out of his mouth at roughly the right time, in somewhat the proper order.  Close enough. Dean’s biting his lip as he meets Cas’s curious gaze, and he looks as though he’s about to open his mouth to say something else, but then - “Mr. Winchester!” Crowley bellows as he exits his office, startling the both of them out of their bashful staring match.  “Oh gosh, hey!  There ya are!  Mr. Crowley, you scared the life outta me!” Donna gasps, spinning about in her chair to face Crowley.  Turning back to Dean and Cas, she favors him with a friendly smile and waves Dean towards Crowley’s office.  “Go on in!  He’s all yours, there, Dean-o.” Dean offers Cas one last apologetic smile, tipping his head in Crowley’s direction.  “Sorry I was late,” he says, meeting Cas’s eyes even though the volume of his voice would infer he’s answering Crowley.  Reaching up, he gives his shoulder one more quick, friendly pat before he finally tears his gaze away, turning his attention to Crowley and striding further into his office. For his part, Crowley opens the small gate separating the waiting area from everything beyond. “Mr. Novak was nice enough to take pity on me and make sure I got here all right.” Cas glances past Dean, his eyes falling on Crowley, who’s giving him an odd look - so he gives him one right back, shrugging his shoulders helplessly as he nudges the door open again with his hip and makes his way back to his classroom, where Marina’s just finishing up the reading. He can’t stop thinking about Dean the entire rest of class, grateful for the questions at the end of the chapter that will keep the kids busy while he ruminates.  As soon as the bell rings, he’s up and out of his seat, pushing his door open and leaning back against it to allow his students to leave.  Cas’s eyes scour the hallway and surrounding areas, ears listening out for the creak of leather but then, sure enough, suddenly there Dean is, coming around the corner.  He’s a smudge of black in the otherwise neutral concrete-everything school building, his large hand resting on the shoulder of a young girl Cas recognizes as an 8th grader, but not one of his students.  She looks positively teensy next to Dean as she goes along in her lilac t-shirt and leggings. Her arms cradle her plush bunny backpack to her chest as she walks beside him, her eyes mostly fixed on the ground.  Crowley follows along with the two of them, and for once, Crowley isn’t grumbling away in his gruff, badgery voice.  Seeing that his classroom has emptied out, Cas hurries to follow after the three of them as they make their way to the front of the school.  Where, much to his surprise, he finds an entire battalion of gigantic, gleaming motorbikes parked and waiting in the driveway just out front of the school.  Nearly all of them are being straddled by equally gigantic, burly men all clad in gear similar to Dean’s.  As soon as they reach the front steps, the young girl lets out a happy squeal and runs pell-mell down the steps towards the assembly of bikes.  For his part, Dean lets out a soft laugh, but there’s a sadness to it.  Crowley follows along after Dean as he makes his way down to the bikes. “Daisy!  Hey, there you are!  Get over here, girl!” A guy crows, greeting her like one would a beloved niece or nephew, waving a hand for her to come on down towards the phallanx of bikes. “Moose!” Daisy yells and practically flings herself at the tall, lanky guy perched on a sleek silver bike, slinging her arms around his neck and letting out a happy squeal as he wraps long, leather-clad arms around her tiny self and scoops her up.