#Wayward

[lucybellwood]

A slew of goodies headed off to the Wayward Retreats team tomorrow morning! These items will be included in blind box rewards to say thank you to folks who support our Kickstarter (running until November 30th). The team is primarily raising funds to replenish the scholarship fund for creators of color, which has been amply utilized these last few years. (Hooray!)

I've been involved with Wayward as a retreater and returning facilitator since 2019 and I wanna see this community thrive!!! The whole experience feels like the perfect intersection of my interests and proclivities as an artist.

Also I just wanna applaud them for picking the best photo for my facilitator bio.

"Eyy, you wanna buy a flowah crown?"

Anyway, if you're interested in participating in a future retreat, read on for info about Wayward:

Wayward is a creative retreat for artists of all marginalized genders set on Quadra Island, BC. Free from cell phones and internet, the artists at Wayward have the quiet time and space they need to dig deep into their art, experiment, explore, and hone their craft. We welcome nonbinary folks, transgender folks, and cisgender women from a range of artistic backgrounds with the aim of creating a safer space for connection with self, other artists, and the work. Our artists come back from Wayward revitalized, often with important inroads made into new, experimental avenues in their work. In this way, Wayward fulfills its mission of helping artists advance their art and process in service of a more harmonious world.

In addition to solo work time, Wayward creates space for collaboration and adventure. Retreaters create an interconnected group piece over the course of the retreat week. Optional workshops and excursions into the wild are offered for those who need a break from their work. Morning movement class helps retreaters wake to the day in a gentle way. Daily meals are prepared by the hosts and retreaters together, often with greens from the house’s garden, oysters from the nearby beach, or other local ingredients. 

Check out the retreat website here and keep an eye out for future applications! And thanks to @sawdustbear for their stellar work on this campaign.

[lynzine]

My FoeTP (Foe True Pair, is that a thing? I randomly thought of it and it’s not meant romantically at all) is Aang and Azula. Not as ultimate showdown good vs. evil. But as two younger siblings with attachment issues fighting over their older sibling.

I just really like writing them petty fighting over Zuko. It makes me smile.

[wiirocku]

Jeremiah 3:22 (NLT) - “My wayward children,” says the LORD, “come back to Me, and I will heal your wayward hearts.”

“Yes, we’re coming,” the people reply, “for You are the LORD our God.

[jareddillon]

Where the Heart Is - Page 17

Read more of the comic at it's own website!

Find more options for reading here!

[videogamepolls]

Requested by anon

[little-eye-guy]

wayward redesign. now with more color

[krispytigerdaze]

A Webtoon Carol

Cody as Ebenezer Scrooge.

Nerd as Fred.

Emmy the Robot as Cratchit.

Olga as The Ghost of Marley.

Bonus Art #1

[hello-there]

Communities are a new way to connect with the people on Tumblr who care about the things you care about! Browse Communities to find the perfect one for your interests or create a new one and invite your friends and mutuals!

[eliotquillon]

hoes mad im writing my second ever smut fic and it’s a rarepair for a microfandom so small i started the ao3 tag. hellooooo quillivan nation!!! (still workshopping the eliot/ollivan shipname)

[neverthere123]

Jack and Jill from Seanan McGuire's Wayward Children book 2, Down Among the Sticks and Bones.

[cookieeks-art]

First post of the year!!! And it’s a late self indulgent valentines drawing it’s already February holy shit time flies. (Please klick on the first image to see it in it’s proper quality)

(ID in alt text and under cut)

[ID:

Two images.

A digital drawing of Arthur from red shoes and my oc Edda (A pale chubby woman, with deep eyebags, brown hair and grey eyes), specifically villain Edda (who’s dressed in a dark red coat with a hood, dark baggy pants and boots, and has a dark shadow over the top of her face). They are both inside a cave, Arthur is lounging on the ground looking slightly scuffed up, while Edda is leaning over him. She’s frowning at him, appearing stern and somewhat concerned, her dagger gripped in one hand, but is also blushing and holding the side of Arthur’s face. Arthur in turn is smiling up at her, blushing as well as he touches two of his fingers to her cheek. A squiggly white heart is drawn between their faces, as light shines down on them from behind Arthur and the surroundings are tinted pink.

The second image is a small sketched comic on paper digitally tinted pink with the title reading “Continuation of the valentines drawing”. The first part showing Arthur’s hand moving closer to Eddas face so it’s cupping her cheek, Edda looks befuddled by this (three question marks hovering over her shoulder) and is still blushing. The second part shows Edda closing her eyes, and angling her face down as she lets out a silent laugh. The third part shows her grinning down at Arthur as she points at him with her dagger, and says: “you’re a pretty weird hero aren’t you Princy?”. The fourth and final part shows Arthur, with Eddas own hand still holding his cheek, looking up at Edda as he grins back and says: “Is that a compliment?”. A small bubble next to his face shows a laughing Edda with “hah!” written in capital letters.

End of ID]

[lynzine]

Mail Call: The Prison

This is a sneak peek at a bonus chapter of the fanfic Wayward (Book One of The Avatar's Ward), which hopefully will have a regular update schedule soon!

Ozai’s son sent him reports, but never letters. So it was infuriating that letters arrived at the prison for his brother more often than reports made it to Ozai. They never reached Iroh’s hands, of course. Sometimes Ozai perused them, but it was a galling exercise as it was becoming increasingly clear that the boy’s reticent behavior was not from the burn or the banishment, it was a result of Iroh’s imprisonment.

In a fit of rage at a letter signed ‘your loyal nephew’, Ozai seized the pile and paid his dear brother a visit.

“Your nephew has been writing to you.” Ozai forced his snarl back behind a smirk as he held out the scrolls. His brother gazed back at him stoically. Not even the prison garb could rob him of his proud posture and calculating eyes. “Don’t you want them? To see how he’s doing?” Ozai taunted, moving closer to the bars. Iroh wanted the letters. Ozai could see it in the way his eyes flicked to the scrolls. How his hands tightened beneath his sleeves. How he barely held himself back from lunging for them. “Well, if you aren’t interested.” Ozai’s fingers flexed and all of the carefully penned scrolls burst into flames.

For an instant, Iroh’s carefully cultivated mask broke. Ozai smiled in warm satisfaction as charred scraps of paper and ash sifted through his fingers. It had vanished as quickly as it appeared, but for a second Ozai caught a glimpse of the shattered man who had lost his son. The fool who tried to replace him with what was his.

“Pity.” Ozai’s grin grew. “Maybe you’ll want to read the next one.” Ozai swept away, sending ashes dancing in his wake.

[cookieek]

So, like many others I sat down to watch the recent hbomberguy video, and watching it has made me think back to about how I’ve handled my folklore inspiration for wayward.

Notably that I ended up taking heavily inspiration from the illustrations by Katarina Strömgård in Per Gustavssons (2006) ”Sägenresan” when it came to the designs for the skogsrå, Snurra, and the sjörå. (Pictured bellow, Strömgårds illustrations to the left, my sketches to the right)

I did not do this with the intent of plagiarism, I know that I mentioned getting inspired by illustrations from a folk lore book in one of my authors notes for Wayward and that I did share Strömgårds illustrations of the troll drawing that inspired snurra and the sjörå on the red shoes discord and mentioning that I used them as inspiration (I could only find me mentioning the illustration for the skogsrå on the discord server when I went looking, I had to find the actual picture from the dms with another person in the server). However I do feel that I might not have been clear enough about this inspiration, and that looking back I, possibly out of some form of laziness, did at the very least not do enough with the characters in my sketches to visually distinguish them from the designs pictured in Strömgårds work, especially when it comes to the Skogsrå.

I doubt that Strömgård will ever see this, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it, and I’m planning to edit the posts that features the characters to link to this post in order to give proper credits to the artist who was at the heart of those designs. Sägenresan and it’s illustrations has been with me since I was a child, it’s hard not to feel disappointed in myself, and I am sorry.

If you’re curious about Strömgårds work, then I recommend looking at her website (where she’s got coloured versions of some of the books illustrations for a recent web project under the same name as the book by Gustavsson!):

She also has an instagram under the handle strmgrd!

I should at this point also note that unless I was taking inspiration from stories told by my mom or just general ideas of folklore that I’ve heard while growing up, a big source for the folklore bits in wayward which I talk about in the authors notes for the chapters is Per Gustavssons (2006) “Sägenresan”, though I did not always reread the stories from it in question. And though I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned that the herbal magic in wayward was inspired by stories from a childrens flora book, I figure I should be more clear and reference to it as Bissa Falk och Lena Kallenbergs ”Barnens flora” and ”Barnens flora 2” (both of my copies of these books are missing their copyright page so I can’t say their specific release date for sure, but I do know the original editions seemed to have been published 1982 and 1983 as those are the dates given to the first editions of the work on Libris, Alex.se and worldcat (though worldcat only seemed to have the first book of the two and the edition which collects the books into one)). When I get the time I’ll try to go through the authors notes for Wayward to make sure these are given their proper credit, and I’m sorry for not doing that before. Also, when I’m already on the topic, please don’t take Edda using real life herbs in for the healing magic as health advice, and if you decide to get into herbal medicine then I beg you to be safe about it, understand it’s limits and just go to the doctor of you’re dealing with something serious. There are many quacks out there, many dangerous ideas and ‘cure-alls’ that at best doesn’t work and at worst are actively harmful. Saint john’s wort will not cure your cancer.

Finally, when I’m already here I should also mention that an notable inspiration for even considering the regency au that eventually became “A Lord and Lace” was sboochi’s Bridgerton inspired Regency au drawings. I realised I was never really open about that and that made me feel a bit scummy, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that this isn’t the fun superhero au synopsis, but when this landed in my mind I really felt like I had to say something about it. I’ll try to get the synopsis out soon, I am still sick, but it seems to be on it’s way out, I hope, either way I hopefully will have that post out sometime next week. And again, I’m sorry for my sloppy work.

I hope everyone nonetheless have a good day.

[jareddillon]

Wayward is on a holiday break starting today.

Updates will resume early to mid-January, so keep your eyes peeled!

I also want to say thank you to anyone and everyone who has checked out Wayward so far. I hope you've enjoyed it so far and will continue journeying with me as we go along!

[misiafterdark]

they seem to be very good friends

[ikennashouldwetakeherthere]

They’ll say we’re Wayward

[itscaptaint]

Is That Alright?

Dean X reader

based off the song “Is That Alright?” by Lady Gaga

There’s probably grammatical errors, but I’m getting back into the writing game after a few years so cut me some slack...

“Why can’t I just be undercover as a bartender? That’s what I’m good at!” I argue with Sam as we are getting dressed for this shape shifter hunt. Somehow this asshat got me a legit job at the art museum’s gala tonight as the entertainment. I’ll be on piano all evening entertaining the guests as they peruse the old junk that the shifter is trying to steal. 

“Because this way if we get our cover blown, at least we will still have a set of eyes in the joint no matter what,” Sam says, straightening out his tie. “You’re also a musical genius, so that’s why.”

We’ve been tracking this shifter for days and we finally learned that it’s MO was expensive old shit. The art museum is holding their annual charity gala tonight and it will be the perfect time for extra bodies to be in the building unnoticed. Sam was the brains on this one which is why I’m stuck in the public eye all night, Sam is working security and Dean will be hanging out behind the bar. At least if Dean is slinging drinks all night, they’ll be free. 

“Are you two ready-” Dean starts to groan rounding the corner and stops dead in his tracks, staring at the long velvet green dress I scored from the closet of the shifter’s last vic. It’s simple, long sleeved with a deep V neck and a slit up the leg that shows a little more than I’d like. I can tell Dean is staring at the slit and I catch his eyes as they wander up to the neck line. By the time he reaches my face, he is pink with embarrassment. 

Not wanting to be gawked at, I turn instantly, grabbing my bag and gun and heading out towards the car. 

“Dude, seriously?” I hear Sam say through gritted teeth, thinking I was already out of earshot.

“What?” Dean whisper-yells. “I haven’t seen her dress up since…well it’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, that’s why you were staring.” I can only imagine that Sam rolled his eyes as he said that before heading to meet me in the car.

“Alright superstar, you ready?” Dean wiggles his eyebrows, sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“Not really, but at least I have the skillset,” I say, shrugging and sinking lower into the backseat to try and avoid Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror. 

Back in college, I was a dance and theater major. I had grown up dancing and playing piano my entire life. It wasn’t until school that I realized I had a real knack for writing as well. I got really into writing short plays and original songs for musicals. After graduating, I was working at a nightclub in New York as a bartender and singer. Everyone in NYC is some sort of artist so we all had other jobs to help with that lifestyle. Most of the other people I worked with were actors and singers so we all played double duty behind the bar and on stage most nights. It was good practice for auditions and good money to get us through until the next gig. Unfortunately, the club I was working in was destroyed by a poltergeist. 

I’ve known the Winchester family my entire life. My family lived next door to theirs when I was little. Dean was my first friend. We were 4 years old and would always be playing in the backyard together. I remember my mom constantly having to drag me back inside for a lunch or dinner break. After their mom died, I remember Dean being really sad and I couldn’t understand what was really happening, but I just knew that my friend needed me. We talked about everything, and he told all about the man with the yellow eyes. It didn’t make sense at the time but I was a kid so not much made sense. Two years  later, he told me that he was moving, but he didn’t know where. That’s when John decided to hit the road and hunt down whatever killed Mary. Dean said that he would send me a postcard when they got to wherever they were going so that way it was like we weren’t going to be apart. 

The postcards and letters from Dean were coming as often as one a week. My dad would set them aside for me to read after school and then help me send one back. Even apart we were still best friends. As we got older, the letters were less frequent. We went from sending them once a week, to one a month, but life got busy. My family moved to Ohio and Dean was all over the place. I finally accepted that all the crazy stories he was telling me were true after John had to talk my dad through salt and burn over the phone once. 

I struggled when we first got to Ohio. It was the middle of my freshmen year of high school, I had no friends and I was super into dancing and playing piano.I was definitely labeled a dork the first day there. I obviously wrote to Dean to tell him all about it and his next letter came much quicker than they had been. He wanted to make sure I was ok. It was nice knowing that I had someone looking out for me even if he wasn’t there in person. Our letters were getting more frequent again and my dad noticed that I was getting a little too excited to hear from Dean. My dad, wasn’t dumb. He could tell that I was crushing on my pen pal. He tried to tell me that I was just crushing on the fantasy and the thrill of he adventure. Along with the letters, Dean had started sending pictures of him and Sam in cool places or doing silly little things. I never showed my dad any of those photos. 

My favorite photo came towards the end of my senior year. It was a picture of Sam and Dean standing next to a giant bear in the woods. They had gone up to Vancouver for what they thought was a werewolf hunt, but it turns out that it was just a bear wreaking havoc on the town. The caption on the back said big scary bear hunt, wish you were here to see this. A big scary bear hunt would be more exciting than trying to find a prom date. When I wrote back to Dean I wanted to say those exact thoughts and then beg him to come to town to go with me, but I chickened out. Instead I wrote back I’ll make sure to send a scary photo of me in a prom dress so we’re even.

As prom night approached, I had been so stressed about graduation and final exams that I hadn’t even realized that Dean hadn’t sent a letter in a while. A few friends that also didn’t have dates for the prom were over taking pictures and we were having a blast. This was definitely going to be a night to remember. The second we pulled up to the school parking lot, the sky just opened and start raining cats and dogs. Luckily we didn’t get too wet on the way in the building. By the time we got in, the music was going, people were dancing and I could tell there was already someone spiking the punch. I was having the night of my life. When the third slow song of the night started playing, I took that as my cue to go outside and hope it had stopped raining just long enough to get some fresh air. When I get to the main entrance I noticed a boy standing all by himself pacing back and forth in front of his car with a flower in his hand. I thought nothing of it until I realized what kind of car it was. 

“Dean?”

He turned his head so fast that he probably gave himself whiplash. “Hey, Y/n. Happy prom night.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask in total shock. 

“Well, you said you were going to send a scary photo in a prom dress, but I wanted to see it in person. Figured it wouldn’t be so scary that way,” we both chuckle and awkwardly just stand there for a few more minutes. “Oh, this is for you by the way,” he says, handing me the wrist corsage. 

“Thanks,” I say and I can’t help but blush. I could hear cheering from inside so that must mean that the music has picked back up. “Do you want to come in?”

“If that’s your way of asking me to prom, Y/N,” Dean sighed. “Then abso-freaking-lutely.”

Dean and I danced all night and when it was time to go we ended up driving to the park down the street to just catch up. The rain had stopped and it had turned out to be a pretty decent night so we just sat on the swings talking for hours. He filled me in on hunting life, I filled him in on high school and what I was doing after graduation. The plan was to study dance and theater at NYU and hopefully end up living in the city. Everything just felt right. It was in this moment that I knew I was falling for Dean. The way he talked about his family and how he took care of his brother when his dad was away, or the way he looked at me when I was telling the silliest of stories just made me feel slightly weaker than I should have. 

We were so into our conversation that we hadn’t realized it had started to lightly rain again until it started pouring. Dean took off his jacket and tried to shield us from getting wet. Halfway to the car I froze. I knew that if we got in that car and he took me home, I might not get the chance to do what I have been wanting to do all night. Dean turned around, having given up on the jacket at this point since we were already soaked. “Y/N, come on!” 

I still just stood there. Dean comes running up, grabbing my hand to try and get me to move, but when he does I resist, pull him in to me and slam my lips onto his. It takes me a second to realize what I’ve done before pulling away. What if he didn’t want this? What if he thinks of me like a little sister? What if he is with somebody else somewhere else? Thoughts crowding my head, I pull back and start to profusely apologize. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know-” I was cut off by Dean pulling me back into our kiss. This time my thoughts slowed and shifted out of panic and into something else. It was something I hadn’t felt before but I liked it. We kissed for what felt like forever, forgetting that it was raining. When he pulled away he pressed his forehead to mine. “Was that alright?”

I just smiled the biggest smile I had ever smiled before. “Definitely alright.”

…..

After prom night, I hadn’t seen Dean or Sam much. I knew of their whereabouts and they knew of mine, but life got even busier. As much as I wanted to see Dean and talk about us, I knew it probably wasn’t going to happen. By the time I had graduated from NYU I had convinced myself that my feelings for Dean were just a school girl crush and that I could just get over it. The boys were hunting nonstop and I was focused on my career. I was so focused on my career that I had almost missed all the signs that the club was being haunted by a poltergeist. 

As soon as I figured it out, I had called Dean and Sam and they were in the city the next day and the problem was mostly solved. Things got a little hairy and unfortunately the club burned down and was going to need rebuilt. On the brightside, the poltergeist problem was gone. With the club gone and my job no longer existent, I had no way to pay rent so in a very quick turn of events, I ended up leaving the city in the back of the Impala and have been with the boys ever since. 

The night started slow. Sam was scanning security footage looking for any flares while Dean was trying to subtly touch every guest with some sort of silver. I was posted up at a gorgeous black baby grand piano all night and was much less focused on the hunt than I should have been. Guests were requesting their favorite songs, and some of them even asked if I had any originals I would be willing to play. I do have a few originals, but nobody has ever heard them before. Most of them are a tad too personal to be playing for this crowd, specifically Dean. 

Off by the bar, I see Sam and Dean deep in conversation. When we make eye contact, they flag me down. I announce that I’d be taking a short break and head down the hall to the main gallery. We barely make it down the hall and out of sight of the guests before I’m slammed against a stone statue and start seeing double. Well, just double of Dean. There was still only one of Sam, though he was knocked out in a crumpled mess on the floor. One Dean was laying on the floor scrambling to get out from under a painting that had come crashing down and one was strolling towards me without a care in the world. 

“Turns out shifting into the bartender is easier when he’s already half drunk,” the sauntering Dean said. “Even if he is a hunter.” 

I try to find my bag which has been knocked out of my reach when the shifter reaches me. “So you’re the pretty one he’s been drinking over all night.”

“Y/N!” I hear Dean yell. “Stay away from her, you son of a bitch!”

“‘Did you know that when we change appearance, we also get a little insight into what the human scum is actually thinking. Turns out, Deano over there has been undressing you with his eyes since you got here. But what I don’t understand is why he hasn’t done it before.” 

The shifter’s words meant nothing to me. I knew it was lying. Did I want Dean to think of me that way? Yeah, yeah I did. But this was not going to throw me off my game. My purse with my gun in it may have been knocked clear out of reach, but the knife I had strapped to my leg was already in my hands. Before I can let the shifter get any closer, my silver knife is through its chest and I’m shoving it away as fast as I possibly can to avoid any blood getting on this dress. Shifter hits the floor, Dean is finally on his feet and Sam’s eyes are back open. 

“What did I miss?” Sam groans, grabbing the back of his head. 

“Seems like Y/N had it taken care of,” Dean reached out his hand for Sam’s, pulling him to his feet. “Y/N, we can clean this up if you want to get back out there.”

“Uh,” I say looking down at my dress making sure I still look presentable. Don’t want the guests freaking out over a blood splattered dress. “Yeah, totally. I can go and finish up my set and then we can get out of here.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean runs over to me before I head down the hall. “You good? You look a little shaken.” Thinking about what the shifter said did shake me up a bit, but it’s not true. It can’t be true. 

“I’m good, Dean.” I pat his shoulder and head back to the gala. I stopped for a glass of wine on my way back to the piano when the event organizer stopped me.

 “Any chance you can play some of your originals? That crowd is getting a little rowdy with the classics. Maybe a few new songs will tone them back down a bit. I think the bartender is a little heavy handed on the pour.”

I glanced around for any sight of the Winchesters, knowing full well that they were going to be a while since they had to clean up our mess. If they aren’t here, then they can’t hear. “Um, sure. I’ve got a few that I can play.”

“Great! Thank you,” she says running off in the other direction to go deal with some big time buyers. 

I down the glass of wine and take my place back at the piano. A few guests clapped at my return. I take a deep breath and decide to slow things down a little bit for the crowd since it really has turned into a party out here. Well, here goes…

Life is so simple

A little boy, a little girl

Laughing and loving

Trying to figure out the world

It felt like summer

When I kissed you in the rain

And I know your story

But tell me again

Nothing you say wouldn't interest me

All of your words are like poems to me

I would be honored if you would take me as I am

I want you to look right in my eyes

To tell me you love me, to be by my side

I want you at the end of my life

I wanna see your face, when I fall with grace

At the moment I die

Is that alright?

Is that alright?

I hadn’t realized that the entire crowd had stopped everything they were doing to listen. I glanced up out of my trance to see everyone watching with eyes that were truly taken by what I was singing. Thank god Dean wasn’t out there listening to what I knew I would never be able to say to his face...

I hope you're still with me when I'm not quite myself

And I pray that you'll lift me when you know I need help

It's a warm celebration of all of our years

I dream of our story, of our fairy tale

Family dinners and family trees

Teaching the kids to say thank you and please

Knowing if we stay together that things will be right

I didn’t need to look up very much to see that furrowed brow and look of confusion that I hoped wouldn’t be watching. Can’t stop now, if he only knew this was all for him…

I want you to look right in my eyes

To tell me you love me, to be by my side

I want you at the end of my life

I wanna see your face, when I fall with grace

At the moment I die

Is that alright?

Is that alright?

Is that alright?

Finishing the last few notes was a relief. I loved this song, but it was too personal. I should have picked a different one. Luckily, the organizer was the first to applaud as she walked over with a mic announcing that the auction would be starting which was my cue to head out. I didn’t even take a second glance over at the bar to know that Dean and Sam had already headed out so I beeline it out to the Impala, hop in the backseat and sink as low as I can avoiding Dean’s gaze in the mirror once again. I was exhausted physically and mentally. I knew the ride was short but I closed my eyes anyway. The car was quiet and I took advantage of the silence to feign sleep. Turns out I actually fell asleep and didn’t realize it until I was plopped into my bed in the motel.

When I wake up the next morning, there’s a cup of coffee next to the bed already and Sam is sitting across from me at the table, laptop open. “Morning, Y/N.”

“Morning Sam,” I sat up realizing I’m still in my dress from last night. “Sorry I passed out on y’all last night.” I swing my feet out of bed and grab a t-shirt and shorts to throw on instead of my dress. As much as I was loving this dress, it wasn’t really daytime apparel. “Dean go to grab food?”

“I think so,” he shrugged.” He was gone before I got up. Should be back within the hour I assume. You wanna go for a run while we wait?” 

Sam was always down for a run. Dean hated all versions of physical activity which made zero sense. The man ate like a linebacker but was still fit as hell. It wasn’t fair. I change my clothes, lace up my shoes and head out with Sam. We reach a small pond at the end of the trail and realized where Dean actually went. 

“Did you run out here?” Sam asked, approaching Dean sitting on the sole bench next to the water. 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean scoffs, turning to look at us approaching his quiet time.

“Were you running from something spooky? Or was it voluntary?” 

“Fuck off, Sammy.”

“Language!” I scold as I finally make it up to Sam. 

“Ya know, it was quiet before you two hooligans showed up,” Dean scoffs standing up from what I have now determined was his hiding spot. We all just stand there in total silence for about a minute before Sam calls dibs on the shower and takes off faster than I’ve ever seen him run before. Clearly the silence was more uncomfortable for him than it was for me. 

“Guess he really wants a hot shower,” I murmur, turning towards Dean. “You wanna just walk back?” I shrug starting on the trail back when Dean grabs my arm and turns me towards him. 

“We gotta talk.”

“About…”

“Seriously? I heard that song last night, Y/N.”

Oh, so he did pay attention. Crap.

“It was just a song, Dean. Have you heard the crap on the radio nowadays? Songs can literally be about anything.” I try to get myself out of this confrontation. I was able to walk away from his grip for 4 seconds before he shouts at me.

“It was about us!” 

I froze in my tracks. “Dean,” I slowly turn around briefly finding his piercing green eyes. “There is no us,” I whisper, taking my eyes to the ground and shaking my head. “It’s just a song.” I turn back around and start walking as fast as I can back in the direction we came hoping I can get far enough down the road before involuntary tears start falling. I don’t make it very far. The tears start to fall and my steps slow. I freeze and let my emotions finally take over. I haven’t let myself feel what I had been wanting to feel in a long time. I hadn’t even realized that Dean had caught up.

“Did you mean what you said?” He whispered into my ear as he pulled me into his chest. “Do you really want me by your side? Because if you do, I want to be there.”

I pull away briefly looking up into his wet eyes. I want him so bad. He’s all I ever wanted. “Is that alright?”

Dean’s facial expression changes into one that is rarely seen. “Oh, sweetheart. It’s more than alright.”