Chuck Shurley Imagines

Chuck x Reader: Publisher

You are Chuck's publisher and you're in love with him. He has no idea about your feelings but actually feels the same way. You look after him and one day you have and argument and storm out. When he tries to apologise it just slips out of his mouth.
(Gender neutral reader)

You smiled as you knocked on Chuck's door. You wanted to surprise him so you had come to see him earlier than usual. Your smiled dropped when he opened the door. You knew that he drank because of the awful headaches he had but you had never seen him that bad. His hair was all over the place, there were dark purple bags under his eyes and his breath stank of whiskey. Your jaw dropped and his facial expression showed surprise.
"Y/N! You're not supposed to be here for a few hours. What are you doing here?" He asked, awkwardly shuffling to let you inside.
"I wanted to surprise you." You answered shortly. "So, this is what you do when I'm not here, huh? Get drunk off your ass and, by the looks of it, completely ignore what I told you about getting some sleep." You answered, annoyed at the man in front of you. You trusted him and he had promised he would look after himself better. Well, there goes that promise. You weren't entirely angry, no, worried was more the word. And disappointed. He had broken a promise and he was going to wind up killing himself and then where would that leave you? Alone with no friends or family, that's where. You just sighed, moving further into the house as Chuck at least had the decency to look ashamed. Quietly picking things up or moving them back into their correct positions, you headed towards the kitchen where you knew where most of the alcohol would be - at least what was left of it. It would be gone soon - down the drain most likely - and Chuck would be ignored while you tried to find it in yourself to forgive him.

(Time skip brought to you by a unicorn)

A few hours later the house was almost clean again and Chuck was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. He was exhausted and you were trying to convince him to go to bed and get at least a few hours sleep. He was being stubborn and you felt like you could just knock him on the head with a baseball bat so he could get some rest, finally. It was like arguing with a brick wall and you could easily give up, but Chuck was your friend (though you wanted to be so much more) and you were going to get him to go to sleep.
"Chuck, just a few hours, please! You're going to kill yourself if you keep going on like this. You're exhausted and hungover. Please. For me, Chuck." He sighed, obviously becoming annoyed.
"Y/N. If you're just going to be like this, can you leave?" He raised his head to look at you and saw your hurt expression. "Y/N, I didn't - I'm so - please!" You turned away from the man in front of you and started walking to the door.
"Fine, Chuck. You want me to leave? You want me to stop caring? I will. I'll stop coming over. I'll stop calling and texting you. I'll just stop. I'm not your publisher anymore, so I don't know why I keep coming here."

You did know. It was because you were in love with the man who had just broken your heart. He didn't care, he didn't want you there. Chuck had finally had enough of you. The door slammed closed behind you as you walked away from the house. Walked away from the man you loved. And it hurt. It hurt like hell as you got in your car and finally allowed your emotions free. You just weren't aware of the man sitting on his porch watching you cry as you felt the sharp pain of a shattered heart.

(Time skip brought to you by the fact the Chuck is probably God. Who knew, right?)
- A/N I just wanted to say that I wrote this when I was first watching Supernatural and I was watching season five so I wasn't aware at the time that Chuck was confirmed to be God -

It had been weeks. Weeks since you had seen the love of your life, the one who broke your heart. The days seem to get longer, more painful, as you felt the tiny little pieces of your heart floating around in your chest. Your brain was in shutdown. The pain of loosing Chuck had shocked you, and it felt as if every breath was pure agony, like swallowing glass shards before spitting them right back up to only to do it again. Today it just felt like too much. You needed Chuck. You could hardly breath without him, let alone live your life properly. So there you were, in your car on the way to Chuck's rundown house. The drive seemed to last an eternity and when you finally pulled up outside, you couldn't help but notice the 1967 Chevy Impala, being a fan of the Supernatural series yourself. Gathering up the courage to even open the car door, you placed your forehead against the steering wheel, and took a deep breath. A while later you opened the door and then pushed it shut behind you, before making your way to Chuck's front door. Knocking three times, you took a step back and waited for an answer. The man who opened the door was not someone you recognised, and his green eyes showed confusion as he surveyed you.
"Who are you and what do you want?" He asked gruffly, clearly impatient.
"I could ask you the same thing. I want to speak to Chuck if you don't mind." You replied, craning your neck as you tried to look into the hall.
"Sorry, Chuck isn't-" he was interrupted as the man you needed to see came stumbling around the corner.
"Y/N!" He called, trying to shove past the strange, unfamiliar man in the doorway. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it, I swear. I was tired and drunk and stressed. It hasn't been the same without you." He babbled on, full of apologies you were more than ready to accept.
"Chuck." You said simply, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. His rambling came to a stop as he returned your embrace.
"I missed you so much." You ignored the questioning gazes of the man who had answered the door and the other guy who had appeared from the kitchen at some point as you hugged the man you loved even tighter.
"God, I love you, Y/N." He whispered into your shoulder and you froze. He said he loved you. Was he lying? Was this some kind of trick? Chuck noticed and pulled back. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." He turned his gaze to the floor and you were quick to bring his head back up.
"I love you too, Chuck. These past few weeks have been absolute torture." Before he could answer, you leaned in and brought his lips to meet your own. The kiss was slow and passionate - until someone cleared their throat. Grinning, you pulled yourself away and turned to face the two strangers.
"Now, who the hell are you?"
Boy, did you get a shock.

*BONUS*

"So wait, you're telling me that your characters are actually real and these guys are them?" You asked as you sat on Chuck's worn sofa with a disbelieving look on your face.
"I know. They think I'm psychic or something." Chuck said nervously, glancing at the two men who claimed to be Sam and Dean Winchester every so often as if to check they weren't about to jam a knife into his back.
"How'd you know how to find Chuck anyway?" You questioned, almost certain you knew the answer already.
"His publisher. Hot blond chic at the office." Dean answered. You groaned and ran a hand down your face.
"That what she said? She's not his publisher, I am. That's my secretary. I told her to stay out of my office. She didn't sit at my desk did she?" You didn't know why you didn't just fire that woman. Chuck sent you a small, slightly amused (more nervous), smile, knowing how much you hated your secretary. Sam and Dean shot each other a look.
"You know what, I don't care. I'm tired and I'm stealing your bed for a while so I can process this." You murmured, head in your hands, and walked towards the stairs. Maybe you were going crazy. Yeah that's probably it. You're going nuts. At least that's what you thought until Chuck woke you up to tell you he was a prophet and there was an angel in his kitchen.