#how often did he shake Dean awake?

[sweetonsugden]

So in the hotel room in Dodge City, Jack ran into the bedroom to tell Dean he found something on the computer.

Dean is snoring and Cass runs in behind Jack saying “Jack, Jack! Jack, I wouldn’t do that!”. Dean promptly wakes up pointing a gun.

So, here’s my question - how many times had Castiel run in to wake Dean up out of a dead sleep to know how Dean wakes up???

Cass: “I told you. He’s an angry sleeper. Like a bear”

[asmutwriter]

You Saved Me (Part 14)

DESCRIPTION: (Season 11) Late one night you get an unexpected phone call

WORD COUNT: 1912

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: swearing, just pure fluff

DISCLAIMERS

- This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

You unlock your front door. Locking it again behind you as you place the keys onto the hook. Hearing a soft humming coming from the living room. You walk in. The two girls curled up under a blanket on the sofa. The two of them watching a film “Sorry I'm so late back. Had a problem at work that meant I had to stay overtime”

“Its ok mum. We ordered a Chinese. Left some of it for you in the fridge” Anna says, tilting her head to look at you. You smile. Going over and kissing the top of her head

“You two done you’re homework?” they nod “oh you guys are so good. I’ll be in in a second” you smile at them as you go into the kitchen. Grabbing out the left overs and heating it up. Then joining them in the living room as they watch their film. Once it finishes they slowly make their way to bed. Lydia having a quick shower as Anna packs her school bag ready for the morning. You make a hot drink for the three of you. Lydia walking in after packing her bag. You pass her the hot chocolate you had made.

"Thanks mum" you smile. Ruffling her hair as she sits at the dining room table.

“I've already said this to Anna but I have a work thing tomorrow afternoon so I wont be able to pick you two up from school. You’ll have to get the bus back”

“I hate the bus”

“I know. I'm sorry. But I can drive you in so we all get a lie in” you smile at her as she chuckles. A few minutes later and you hear the shower stop running water. Anna walking in, towel drying her hair. You pick up her mug of drink. Handing it to her as she takes it. Taking a small sip from the top of it.

"I'm heading to bed".

"Goodnight dear" you say as she turns and heads down the hallway. Hearing her bedroom door shut. Lydia drinks the rest of her drink. Placing her mug on the side. She wraps her arms around you.

"Night night mum. I love you"

"I love you too" you say. Hugging her tightly. She lets go. Skipping to her bedroom. Hearing her gently close the door. You finish your drink. Taking that, and the cup on the side, and placing them in the dishwasher before turning it on.

You do your usual check of the house. Making sure all the doors are locked and secure before retiring to your bed. Getting in you snuggle under the soft covers. Turning the light off. You had just fallen asleep. Managing to have tuned out the world just as you hear a noise. Jumping awake as you hear your phone buzz. Turning on the bedside lamp you pick it up. Not opening your eyes to see who it was. You answer it. 

"Hmm?" you answer. Unsure of who would be on the other end.

“Hey Rose” he says. Your eyes open at the voice. Looking at your phone.

“Dean. I wasn't expecting a call from you. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah. I just thought that I should be better at keeping in touch with you. As we always say we will and never do. Thought I'd start the process of it”

“I appreciate that. I do. But this late at night?”

“Its not- shit sorry. Didn't realise how late it had gotten. I’ll leave you to sleep” you shake your head as you rest your head down on pillow.

“No. No its ok. Its nice to hear from you. Like you said, we need to keep in contact more often then we do as we always say we will” a soft chuckle coming down the phone. “Did you have a hunt today then?”

“Yeah. Had a bit of a weird case today and I needed to talk to someone to help clear my head”

“What was the case?”

“A banshee. It really managed to screw with my head today. Quite badly screwed with it in fact. But thats enough about my life. How are you and the girls?”

“They're all good. We had a bit of a ghost problem in our old house so we had to move but that was a few months ago now”

“A ghost problem? And you didn't call me?” you laugh slightly

“I'm a grown up. I can deal with my own ghosts” a soft chuckle coming down the phone

“How did the others react to you having a haunted house?”

“Well... they don't know. Not directly anyway. Lydia kept getting really cold and saying she felt funny. Anna refused to grab anything out of our cupboard as she said she didn't like it. I was the only one who saw anything. So I just said that we had to move. Thankfully they know how I am with staying in one place to long so didn't question it”

“They don't know about the ghost then?”

“They don't know about ghosts period. And I plan on keeping it that way. The less they know about monsters the better”

“I agree with you on that” you rub your eyes slightly. Standing up you wrap your dressing gown around you as you head to the kitchen. You don't register that he was talking to you as you walked until you hear him say your name “Kat?”

“Sorry. I'm here. What did you say?” he laughs, you can almost hear him shaking his head

“I asked how long you've been in your new place”

“Oh gosh. Not long. 3 months I'd say” you grab a cereal bar from the cupboard “how long have you lived in your place?”

“We moved in about three years ago”

“Its just you and Sam there right?”

“Yeah. I mean Cas lives with us too but not constantly”

“I've not heard you talk about Cas before”

"Hes just a friend of ours. Hes an angel”

“An angel?" you sit down one one of your dining chairs "As in...”

“Feathers, harps, robes. All that shit”

“I have images of you and your brother being serenaded each morning as you wake by a random man wearing a robe and playing a harp” he laughs

“Sadly not quite that amusing” you chuckle softly.

“That is a shame. I'd pay money to see that”

“I would too” you smile as you finish off your food. Standing up you turn off the kitchen light. Going back into your room you hang your dressing gown on the back of the door before you climb into bed. Sitting cross legged with the duvet over your lower half. “What does he look like then? This angel friend of yours”

“Why? You hoping hes cute?”

“Shut up” a chuckle going down the phone. “I was just curious as to if he looked like how the bible depicts them to look like”

“No. Similar to demons, they posses people so they look like whoever they are possessing. But angels have to ask for permission”

“Oh at least they are keen on peoples consent to be a meat puppet” another soft chuckle down the phone. You smile down the phone

“Thinking of friends, how is... whats his name...” a pause as he thinks. “Mike. How is your boy toy?”

"We umm... we... broke up"

"What? Why? I was just starting to like him!"

"You've met him once. And you looked like you wanted to kill him the entire time". You can practically hear him smile down the phone.

"Why did you break up?"

"I- lets just say that I had a realisation that he wouldn't put my daughters needs first. Which I cant have in a life partner"

"I'm sorry Kathrine. I know you liked him a lot"

"Yeah..." you take in a breath. Running a hand through your hair.

“How is Sam?”

“Hes good. He met someone today that I think hes pretty keen on. Of course he would never admit that” you chuckle softly.

“Of course not” you smile down the phone “How about you? You got any fancy ladies?” he chuckles. Pausing for a little bit before he answers

“I'm very much single” he says, you can hear a smile on his voice 

"What happened with Tash? She told me that you had a date night set up?"

"I texted her. We went out for a couple of drinks. But nothing further happened. She had to get back home for her kid" you nod.

"Hes a sweet kid that shes got. You'd like him"

"I'm sure I would" he says. A small smile in his voice.

"I'll offer to babysit one night if you'd like? Let you two have a night alone". You wiggle your eyebrows at the notion. He laughs quietly. There was something about his laugh that could easily light up a room. You mentally shake yourself .

"I think I'm alright. I like her. A lot. But I don't think we're planning on any second date"

"Oh no! Why?"

"Not my type for a long term girlfriend kind of way. And I got the impression that's what shes looking for"

"No... I don't think shes looking for a long term girlfriend" he laughs again. "I know what you mean. Although she likes to have a fling, she does want someone more... steady in her life"

"Sadly I cant provide that for her"

"Its a shame. You two would make a cute couple". Moving under your covers. Stretching your legs out under the soft sheets, hearing Dean let out a muffled yawn on the other end of the line. You chuckle slightly “Am I keeping you up?”

“No. Defiantly not. I did ring you so its me who's keeping you up, surely”

“You aren't wrong. But it is-” you look at the clock on the bedside table “12:06am. So I understand if you’re tired” he laughs slightly. 

“I've stayed up way later then this”

“As true as that might be... We cant pull an all nighter”

“And why not?” although the tone in his voice was slightly mocking, the way it sounded made you realise he was asking it as a genuine question as well.

“No we cant. I have work tomorrow. Plus I have to get the girls to school” a soft ‘oh’ leaves his lips. The sadness in his voice making your heart break. You shut your eyes. Trying to think of a solution that meets you both. “I would say that you’re welcome to come round. But its very late and I imagine you wont want to travel far just for the sake of a sleepover” 

“I'd like to. A lot actually. But I shouldn't. Too much going on for me to leave in the middle of the night. I really wish I could though. More then you think” you smile softly as you nod

“I understand. You have a hectic life. Saving the world and everything. Cant be easy”

“Its certainly a pain in my ass” you chuckle softly

“Its been lovely hearing from you though Dean. But I really should go to sleep now. Sorry”

“Its ok. I should get some shut eye too” you smile down the phone softly “I’ll see you around Kat” you nod at his statement

“I hope so. Goodnight”

“Night”. Click off. You place your phone down on the side cabinet. Rubbing your hand over your face before settling down underneath the covers.

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@sojuxxi

[savemewattpad]

Wicked and Divine: Part 1, Chapter 2

all her life, she’s bound to lose…

Summary:

When John Winchester gets a call from a thirteen-year-old girl claiming to be his daughter, he and Dean go to investigate, bringing them into a complicated web woven by a charismatic cult leader named David Elwood–who also claims to be the girl’s “husband.”

Or, how Esther Smith became Leila Winchester.

Chapter Summary: Dean and John attend a cult meeting.

Warnings: Sexual Abuse, Religious Abuse, Cults, Child Marriage, Pregnancy, Miscarriage

Pairings: None

Last Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Read on AO3

There’s a tension in the silence between John and his son as they sit on opposite sides of the diner booth. It’s this endless loop of quiet understanding: Dean isn’t happy to learn about his father’s dalliance. John knows he’s not happy. Dean knows John knows he��s not happy, and John knows Dean knows that John knows that he’s not happy. And nothing is said about it. 

The diner they’ve found themselves in is crowded with the breakfast rush, and Dean is pensive as he stares out the window. John can’t fault him; he’s just found out he may or may not have another sibling who may or may not be in danger.

If John wasn’t as good at compartmentalizing as he is, he’d be consumed with the same topic of thought. He is that good at compartmentalizing, though, and he flips through the newspaper as they wait for the waitress to take their order.

John’s mind is always on alert, always making connections, and he often has to scan his own thoughts for paranoia, to discern whether the alarms going off in his mind are a real sign of a case or just the result of living the way he has for fifteen years. The obituary section has the alarm ringing. Multiple mysterious deaths from the last few months, all young. A few cops, an FBI agent, a reporter or two. All died of hypothermia. 

One thing at a time, he tells himself. 

The diner is in Carolina, Oregon. It’s the same place he met Melisa Candan almost fifteen years ago. He chose a booth on the opposite side of the diner. It’s the paranoia again. Part of him thinks something about that case must have been cursed. 

The waitress arrives, middle-aged but energetic. “Good morning, boys, what can I get you?” Two black coffees, two classic breakfasts, burn the bacon for John’s. She leaves. The coffees come a few minutes later, and within minutes John’s mind is awake and thinking clearly. 

The obituary observation was not paranoia, he feels, and then sets it aside. One thing at a time.

“Woodscross,” he says without preamble. “What did she mean by Woodscross?”

“Maybe she was wrong about what state she’s in. Is there a Woodscross in Washington, maybe?”

John shakes his head. He’s actually not sure that there’s not; he just knows that he never met a woman named Melisa in Washington. It has to be near Carolina. Too much of a coincidence otherwise.

“Maybe there’s a street called Woodscross,” John muses. 

“What’s this about Woodscross?” the waitress asks as she sets their food down. John doesn’t get snuck up on easily. Maybe he’s not as good at compartmentalizing as he thought, at least when it comes to this. 

Dean looks up at her, smiling charmingly. “We got a call from a friend asking us to meet him there,” he lies easily. John wishes, not for the first time, that he could’ve given his son a life where he didn’t have to learn to lie so well. “Do you happen to know where it is?”

“The only Woodscross around here is the Gibborim community that lives out in the woods.”

“Gibborim?” Dean repeats incredulously. “That new-age cult?” And then John remembers the Gibborim bible on Melisa’s nightstand. Of course. How could he not realize? 

Well…he knows why. Over the past fourteen years, on the rare occasion that Melisa Candan has crossed his mind, he’s always assumed–hoped–that she’d made it out of Gibborim. The cult had reached its peak in the mid-nineties, and most sects had died out by the new millenia. 

Apparently not all of them, though.

The waitress shakes her head. “This is an offshoot. They’re more old-fashioned. And I wouldn’t call it a cult around them, but…”

“Where can we find Woodscross?” John asks her, trying not to sound as urgent as he feels. 

“It’s about ten miles north into the woods by Clinton street,” the waitress replies. “You have to go off the trail about five miles in. But between you and me? I’d call your friend and ask to meet somewhere else.”

John and Dean look at each other. 

“Can you bring us the check?” John asks. 

The ground is surprisingly level even off-trail, and they find Woodscross late that afternoon. It’s almost militaristic looking, surrounded by tall fences with barbed wire at the top, a stark contrast to the wood cabins, gardens, and farmland inside. 

When they reach the gates, the guards ask their names. They’re dressed in handmaid clothes, but John can tell they’re carrying guns. 

Dean opens his mouth to give them their current aliases, but John’s instincts advise otherwise, and he gets in before Dean can speak. “John and Dean Winchester,” he says, ignoring the look his son shoots him. “We were hiking. New to the area, got lost a few hours ago.”

He expects them to give his directions back to the road, to have to push back on that and ask for more help. Instead, one of the guards runs into the compound to “ask for guidance.” When he returns, he’s not alone. 

John knows he’s the man in charge even before he identifies himself as such. He’s tall and thin, with gray hair and military posture and an unsettling calm about him. 

“Hello,” he says, in a voice that feels smoother than it should be. “I’m David Elwood. I hear you’ve had trouble navigating the woods?” He holds out a hand. John shakes it, and then Dean does the same. 

“You heard right. Would it be an imposition if we stayed and rested awhile? It’s been a long day.” John smiles in a sort of apologetic aw-shucks way. 

“A long and hot day. I imagine you must be hungry, too. We have a church service starting soon, you’re welcome to attend; after that, you can join us for dinner, and then we’ll drop you off back in town, if you’d like.”

Cars, guns, phones–they’re not averse to using technology when it suits them. John files it away for future reference. 

“That’s mighty kind of you,” he says. 

The church is another log cabin, but this one with a steepled roof covered in solar panels. The service is strange and Dean understands, now, why they call Gibborim a cult. David’s sermon is vague and emotionally charged all at once, emphasizing obedience without specifying what that entails. It’s about Jesus, and about David himself–their prophet, their leader, God’s servant–and sometimes it seems like David might be hinting at aliens. 

There’s a girl in a chair behind the pulpit, scribbling something in a book. She’s got dark, curly hair and olive skin, with two beauty marks, one above and one below the side of her mouth. She’s clearly young, fourteen at the absolute most. Too young to be as pregnant as she is. And as hard as Dean tries to pay attention to everything else going on, trying to file away as much information as possible for later, his attention keeps coming back to her. There are angry red marks on her wrists, barely visible below the sleeve of her shirt. 

Dean doesn’t realize the service has ended until people around him start standing up. John stands, too, and then Dean follows his lead, but his eyes don’t move from the girl behind the pulpit. David goes over to her, takes her hand and guides her to her feet, and kisses her on the forehead. Then he gestures towards Dean and his father, and the girl turns wide, curious brown eyes onto them. 

David leads her over to them. “Gentlemen, this is Esther Elwood. She’s my wife and helpmeet.” He has this smile on his face–calm, small, casual, but it feels like he’s daring them to object to their marriage, to her pregnancy, to her age. 

Dean can tell John is seething with as much rage as he is. He stays calm. Dean follows his lead. But he could swear that David can tell they’re angry, that he’s delighting in it. 

John smiles and extends a hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Esther,” he says. “I’m John Winchester. This is Dean.”

Something clicks in Esther’s dark eyes. Recognition, and something like hope. This is the girl.

“I’m sorry, women aren’t allowed physical contact with men outside of their families,” David says apologetically. “You understand.”

That’s not a woman, that’s a child. 

“Entirely. My apologies, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Not at all,” David says. Then he looks down at the girl. “Go ahead.”

Esther smiles a little. “This is for you,” she says quietly, and holds out the book she was writing in to John. The marks around her wrist are more marked close up, and they look like rope burns to Dean. It doesn’t escape his notice, either, that this is the first sentence Esther has said to them directly. He wonders if that’s how it always is, David speaking for her, or if David is creating a wall between his “wife” and the outsiders. 

John takes the book, careful not to let their fingers brush. It’s a Gibborim bible. 

“Thank you, Esther,” John says politely. “That’s very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, again in that soft, hesitant voice. 

David looks down at her. “Go and study with the other women,” he says. Esther nods and looks at John and Dean. “It was very nice to meet you both,” she says politely, and then leaves. 

“You’re welcome to join us for the Patriarch’s class,” David tells them. “We usually have dinner after that.” It doesn’t escape Dean’s notice that this isn’t the original plan he’d invited them into. 

“That sounds just fine,” John says, and Dean nods, following his lead. 

David leaves to go talk to the other church-goers, and Dean finds himself watching him. Something about him feels sinister, like at any moment he could pull the rug from under their feet in a way they’d never see coming.

“Dean,” John says, and Dean’s attention snaps back to his father. “Look.”

John is holding the Gibborim bible open casually, like he’s just curious about it, but Dean can tell that he’s seething again. He looks down at the book.

The words “HELP ME” are written in large, childish handwriting on the first page. 

[gojos-precious]

The Singer Household

Summary: Courtney tries to adjust to living with Bobby

A/N: This is part 2 to Becoming a Singer. As always please be kind! :)

Adjusting to living with Bobby was hard. Don’t get me wrong, it was a lot better than what I was used to, but it was still hard. I thought it would be easier to adjust because I knew that I was safe, but it was just… different.  At Bobby’s house, I ate regularly and always had clean clothes. I didn’t have to worry whether someone would take care of me.  Bobby taught me how to cook and it was really fun. He had so many of his wife’s old cookbooks lying around so we never ran out of recipes to try. But at night, when it was quiet, that’s when things were hard.  No one talks about just how hard it is to adjust from an abusive situation. Bobby knew what it was like though. He was very patient with me. Bobby’s dad was an abusive drunk so he understood.  He knew it wasn’t going to be easy taking me in, and yet he did it anyway. 

I often had nightmares that would wake me up with my own screams. Without fail,  Bobby would always come and sit with me until I was okay. Some nights we would just stay up and talk or he’d read me some of his favorite books. Sometimes we would even get up and start baking cookies.  Bobby’s cookies always made it better. He didn’t force me to talk about the nightmares.  I wasn’t ready to talk about them at first.  He let me sit with them. 

The Winchester boys didn’t know that I was having nightmares or the real reason why I moved in with Bobby. I still remember the first time that they were there when a nightmare happened. They had come to stay with me and Bobby while John was out on a particularly dangerous hunt. It was the first night that they were there. All day I was worrying about what would happen that night. I was worried that they were going to find out. I was scared to fall asleep.  I tried staying up reading but it just made me even more tired. I had fallen asleep at some point and didn’t realize it. Then the dream started. 

Dad was talking about the hunt he was about to leave for. I was crying and begging him not to because I knew what happened on that hunt. The hunt that changed everything. The hunt that killed him. But he wouldn’t listen to me. It was like I was talking to a statue. That was one of the worst nights of my life. That was the last time I got to hug my dad. I was a sobbing mess in the corner of the room as I watched everything happen in slow motion. After what felt like 30 seconds and an eternity, we got the call that he had died. I started crying immediately. Mom had put on the front of the mourning widow until she hung up the phone.  It took her less than a minute to drop the mask.  That’s when shit hit the fan. She started screaming at me, telling me how she regretted the day I was born. She told me I was just a burden and that I always would be. I was crying so much that I could barely breathe. It felt like there was an elephant sitting on my chest. I could just faintly hear someone screaming my name. It wasn’t Mom. The voice sounded so familiar but I just couldn’t put my finger on who it was. The voice sounded far away.  

Next thing I know, I’m awake. I’m at Bobby’s. I’m safe. After I realized that I was at Bobby’s, I did in fact hear someone screaming my name. It was Sam. Sam, Dean, and Bobby had all rushed into my room after hearing me screaming and crying. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed next to me with his hands on my shoulders. He had been shaking me trying to get me to wake up. It was silent for an eternity, aside from my sniffling, before Dean piped up and said, “Courtney, are you okay?”

 I looked at Bobby and he just gave a slight nod and I knew what it meant. It meant it was time to tell them.   I cleared my throat before saying “I think it’s time I tell you guys the truth.” The boys looked between me and Bobby and Sam said, “Bobby, what does she mean?” and Dean said “Yeah, what have you not been telling us?” Bobby looked at me and said “Do you want to tell them or do you want me to?” I sat up straight in the bed and said “I think this should come from me. You guys might want to get comfortable, this is going to take a little while.”

I scooted to the middle of the bed.  Sam sat on my left and Bobby sat on my right while Dean sat at the end of the bed. And so I told them. I told them everything. I refused to look up from my lap the whole time. I was scared to see their faces. I knew how they’d be looking at me. I knew that their eyes would be full of pity. But to my surprise, when I looked up and made eye contact with Dean, his face wasn’t full of pity. It was full of anger. I looked over at Sam and he had the same look. The only difference was that Sam had tears on his face. 

I looked at Bobby and saw a few tears had fallen down his cheeks. He knew how hard that was for me and he was so proud that I finally told them. It was quiet for so long. I finally spoke up and said,“Somebody please say something.” Dean cleared his throat and kinda shook his head and said, “Why didn’t you want to tell us?” I looked at them both and said, “I didn’t want you to look at me any differently. I didn’t want you to think of me as damaged goods.” 

At that moment, Sam grabbed my hand from where it was resting on my lap and said, “Courtney, nothing could make us think that you were damaged goods.” Bobby spoke from beside me and said, “See kiddo, I told you that they would understand.” I nodded and smiled. I guess I had been worrying for no reason. They took it way better than I thought they would. Out of nowhere, Dean said, “I’m still confused by one thing though.” I kinda tilted my head in confusion and said, “And what’s that?”

He said, “So you’re not just clumsy? Because I’ve definitely seen you fall in the salvage yard plenty of times and you’re constantly tripping over air.” At that, I busted out laughing which then made everyone laugh. After laughing until all of our stomachs were hurting, Bobby got up and said, “Well, we’ll let you get back to sleep.” Everyone left and the boys were already halfway down the hall before I said, “Now you know that there is no way in hell that I’m going back to sleep after that.” Bobby laughed and said, “Let me guess: you either want to watch a movie or bake cookies?” I giggled and started getting out of the bed saying “Why not do both?” Dean yells from down the hall, “Did I hear something about baking cookies?” The rest of the night was spent laughing and I realized that no matter what, this was my family. This is where I belonged. 

@wdwmarveldisney​

[or-something-better]

October 18, 2022

Sam’s Story Corner

🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨🔮✏️🚨

Share with us a Dream you’ve had (good or bad) that you still remember

Sam

‘Sam Winchester’s journal entry #27    October 18th, 2022’

Blood. It was everywhere… and usually that wasn’t a complaint of mine. It’s strange the thoughts you have when your mind is confronted with visions it just cannot comprehend. My shoes were an inch thick in it, all the walls were layered in red, and it dripped from above, splattering on me. I breathed its coppery scent deep into my lungs and beheld the morbid maze of bodies. They were scattered everywhere. Some entangled together. Some torn apart with only pieces remaining and there, displayed prominently in the very center of them all… was Dean.

I always jerk awake when I look into my brother’s lifeless green eyes. I think my unconscious mind is using that as a form of protection. I can’t even mentally fathom the hell storm THAT finality of loss would bring down on me. It would be the equivalent of an apocalypse.

For several days now, I’ve woken with that gory scene embedded in the deep recesses of my mind, but THAT wasn’t really the issue I was having so much trouble with. Normally I’m pretty accustomed to having all things-that-go-bump-in-the-night playing out as twisted thoughts on the inside of my skull. Nights, ever since childhood, have often been merely a replayed “B” roll of daytime horrors. No, the real problem is how this all FEELS. I no longer feel like I have any answers or any real tangible information to keep the vision from discovering its own reality. Failure nags at me like it’s the only viable option.

I sit up drenched head to toe in sweat, my long hair clinging to my face and that pisses me off even more. Grumbling, I get into a fight with my bed sheets as I’m trying to get out of them and finally just rip them to shreds, letting the tattered pieces fall where they may. If only that had been whoever/whatever was responsible for the dream and not just material, I thought. Now that I would have enjoyed waking up to. Instead, here I was, wrapped up in my own head and feeling like a breakdown was on the horizon.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

I make my way into the bathroom and turn on the hot water with my head still feeling foggy. Stepping under the shower spray, my eyes close while the warmth beats down against my flesh and I rest my forehead on the smooth tile wall. There was just no way to shut my mind off, the remnants of the nightmare were still wreaking havoc on me. Was it a psychic vision? For the first time I wasn’t sure. It felt off. I felt off. Am I finally losing my mind?

I stayed in the shower so long that my skin was vivid red and pulsating from the heat.  Finally stepping out, I shook the excess water from my hair and wrapped a towel down low around my waist. Wiping the steam off the mirror with my hand, I look into my own haunted eyes and quietly pray Don’t let today be the da_.

…………………………………………………………..

Patience

Ahh dreams do they tell a story!! I have had 2 one good and one really bad so bad that it scared so bad I woke up shaking and scared to death. I'll tell you about both. I'll start with the bad one. thinking back to that horrible dream when I got off work from waitress job I went home and laid down for a little bit, I remember it was so hot outside and dad the penny pincher that his wouldn't turn the air on.(at least it was hot to me). I go to my room and turn the fan on and lay down it wasn't long before I was asleep or was I. Before I knew it, it was so hot fire was everywhere I could see demons coming for me.  Waking up crying and scared to death for me it was so real but what did it mean? Was it a sign of things to come, who knows I was just happy it wasn't really happening.                Now my next one. I can't really tell much all I know is it was beautiful and I wanted to go back to sleep. I had always been taught that the white dove was a symbol of purity. one flew over Jesus as he was being baptized by John the Baptist. Any I was standing on a rooftop with some family and friends and the sky began to open millions of white doves flew all around us. remembering this dream, I feel peace and love and everything is going to fine. That's all it was, white doves, and when I woke up I felt such peace it was just so beautiful I really wanted to go back to sleep. Again was this a sign of things to come? With this one I certainly hope so.

……………………………………………….

Bela

What dream do I remember most...good or bad....? Well, I mean, I've had a few nightmares because of my past obviously but.   The day Cass put me to sleep what happened in my mind was the worst and the best I guess.

As my mind wanders in this sleep state, I first see me as a child sitting in my room, watching my father step inside locking my door behind him, the fear overpowering me as I try to fight him off unable to, the pain running through my body, my body jerks in my sleep as the memories of what he's doing floods me...

Suddenly scene changes to a moment when I opened up to my mother about what was happening to me and her denying it and me being disciplined for lying even though I was telling the truth, the anger I felt towards her also becoming overbearing.

Another instance I see myself standing at the crossroad, hearing myself mumble the words as I light the bowl with its contents and the demon appearing in front of me. Our entire conversation vivid in my mind as I break down full of anger and hurt. The demon tells me he can make all that pain and hurt disappear and can ensure I won't have to endure any of the abuse ever again. I see myself agree to the deal, sealed with a kiss.

A week later, I am looking at both of my parents in a coffin being lowered into the ground, my face showing no emotion at all, with a bit of relief as the weight has been lifted off me, looking around at those around me. I see their sadness about their loss, I didn't understand... If only they knew what my parents really were. I felt betrayed so I walked away.

Scenery change again suddenly, my time had come up, my deal was over. I was searching for a way out. Crowley came to me with a proposal as I have become very skilled in stealing artifacts or creating fakes and then selling to make myself successful. He promised he could get me out of my contract he just needed me to do one task. Lilith wanted the colt and it was my job to get it... Long story short I came through the deed was done... I cashed in the lottery tickets I stole from Dean with a smile on my face, after turning the colt over to Crowley.

Then the moment I learned my contract was still valid because Lilith never received the colt. Once again I felt betrayed. Yes... I stole from the Winchesters. All to keep myself out of Hell... Yes at one point I took advantage of Bobby when he got me a good deal on the amulet in Flagstaff... Ok it was wrong... I don't deny it... But I was doing what I had to do for me.. nobody else gave a damn..

My body still moves around subconsciously as the memories in this dream continues in my mind, while I justify what I did because I didn't have anyone who gave a damn about me and hunters already hated me so in a way, I didn't care. Way in the back, there was this little tinge of remorse for double crossing the boys, Crowley, bobby... Seeing their faces still in this dream.... A sudden feeling of guilt suddenly floods this dream...

This feeling was completely new to me. Wishing I could just wake up... Other people's voices begin playing on a loop in my mind in this dream... your reputation leads to the lack of trust. You haven't earned or tried. You're a failure... You may as well be a demon... You're a thief and a con...

Not sure why all this is getting to me so hard in this dream. In some ways I want to build and honesty... Meg and ruby's words playing in my dream as well. In my mind, this dream, I now thinks Cass is a bigger ass than Gabe

My subconscious mind thinks about Cass and how he may be right... Yes I screwed up and no I don't deserve to be trusted but does anyone really? But they do still earn trust back and I want to be able to earn it too

Then this gnome's stupid face pops into mind and my hate for it grows as I hasn't helped in the slightest for me to earn that trust... My mind wanders for ways to get through this to be able to begin earning my trust with people.

In my mind I subconsciously apologized to Cass telling him he was right. He made me say it again. Which I did a long with taking the responsibility for my actions. That was interesting enough in itself .. do I feel bad still, of course .. will I still do what I do...for the right reasons...yes. will I steal from the team....No.

I also think subconsciously about Crowley. How he's been there even when nobody else was .. trusting before anyone else. There's something about him....I can't explain it. Others don't understand either to them it's weird.. not normal...a human liking a demon... I'm not really sure what it is yet between him and I. Not really. I can't even explain my own feelings nor do I even know for sure they are mutual... I kinda hope he thinks about me as much as I do him....

Suddenly I wake up again looking around..  realizing it was all a dream...nightmare mixed with good....

…………………………………….

Henry

When it comes to my dreams there random like really random. Like childish dreams to where you’re like why did we bother this guy. The most recent one I can remember is.

Cookie unicorns why I don’t know but anyways. I was riding on this cookie unicorn to the candy castle till these evil candy corn stop me because I was the hero . I fought them with a candy cane sword then I jump back on my ride. This is pretty much like candy land 2.0. The king is an Oreo Cookie with human features. I don’t remember much else since I was getting to the food part then my alarm woke me up.

…………………………………………

Crowley

I sit at my desk, eyes wandering over the ledger before me but not really processing the words in front of me. I pick up the glass of Craig beside me and feel my mind wander to the last time I had slept. It had been on my little vacation back to Scotland, when I’d been happy and relaxed.

I hadn’t realized I’d nodded off while reading and found myself carefully standing after getting the pups off me. I’d returned to hell only to find Lucifer waiting like usual, bouncing on his heels while sipping another Pumpkin Spice Latte. I prepared a witty remark only for him to raise his hand and gesture for me to follow him. I do, and we’re led to the throne room. I’m surprised to see Ruby, Sam at her side, and Meg there. The main doors open, and I also see Bela coming in with Henry, cookie in hand.

Looking back at Lucifer, I’m certain the confusion is clear on my face as the smug bastard just grins. My gaze follows him up the dais where I can see a draped sheet with no discernible shape. “Luci, what are you up to?” My tone is exasperated and based on his reaction, I grow more concerned. Usually he makes fun of me, calls me a stick in the mud. But the fact that the people who have become closest to me are all gathered here has me concerned.

Lucifer paces, grandstanding still and putting me on edge more. Eventually I can tell when he gets bored. With a dramatic sigh and a flourish the sheet is removed showing another throne. Arching a brow, he starts explaining that, while annoying to him I’m helpful. Even though I ruin his fun, I’ve made his life easier by doing all the boring parts of the job. That, begrudgingly, he’s come to consider me an equal. Just to be nice, he even invited the people that, for some unknown reason, almost like me. Oh, and Meg just showed up for the party.

Shocked, I feel myself smiling and walk over to pull Bela and Henry into a tight hug. I shake hands with Sam and find myself hugging Ruby. I awkwardly fist bump Meg like a weird sibling before ascending the dais and look up at the taller being. “Thank you…..Lucifer.” I smile and shake his hand before sitting down on the throne, feeling secure for the first time in my existence. Feeling fully appreciated. I feel a wetness on my cheek, expecting fiery tears only for sunlight to pierce through my gaze, the view swimming before my eyes and I’m met with the view of the highlands. I realize it was all a dream.

Sighing I finish my drink and pour another “Of course it was all a bloody dream. Lucifer will never think of me as more than an arrogant upstart. Ruby? Moose? Happy for me?” Snorting, I close the ledger and rub my eyes. “As if Meg would ever show up for something good happening to me?” Still, I smile the tiniest bit, believing if something good happened for me Henry and Bela probably would share in my joy. “Maybe it’s not ALL completely impossible.

[normaltothemax]

Jason didn’t move from Dick’s side. He made himself comfortable, read his book, and let Dean bring him sustenance that he otherwise wouldn’t have gotten up to get himself. The only time he moved, aside from the occasional bathroom break, was to grab a second book from his bedroom when he finished the first.

Eventually, the words on the pages started swimming, and Jason drifted, snapping awake with a start not too long after, only to find a blanket draped over him. Dean. Fucking sap. Shaking the exhaustion off—he hadn’t exactly slept much the past few nights—he sat up a bit straighter in the chair and resumed his reading.

He’d gotten through several more chapters when Dick’s voice cut through the silence. Jason’s head snapped up, eyes locking onto the man’s face. For a moment, he stared, as if unsure whether or not what he was actually seeing was true. Apparently deciding that Dick was in fact awake and talking, he marked his place in his book, pushed to his feet, and walked out of the room without a word.

He stopped by couch to dump the blanket onto Dean’s face, knowing he was a light sleeper (not that you had to be a light sleeper to be woken up by something landing on your face). An asshole move, maybe, but Jason didn’t really care much, at the moment. “Dean. Hey. He’s awake. Either get up and go see him or go lay down in an actual bed. You’re gonna break your neck like that.”

Then, he headed into the kitchen. He filled a glass with cold water from the sink, planning to bring it back, but he hesitated. Maybe…maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should just let Dean take care of things. Dick was alive, would probably stay that way, and Jason could leave now without involving himself or having a guilty conscience.

He was still mad. He hadn’t forgiven Dick, wasn’t sure if he could, even if Dean thought he should just make nice and be Dick’s brother. Dick had had the chance to be Jason’s brother, way back when, and he’d denied him, and for what reason? Because he was pissed at Bruce? That wasn’t Jason’s fault, it wasn’t fair to him, and it sure as hell wasn’t his fault that Dick felt guilty afterwards. That didn’t make it better, that didn’t magically fix things, no matter what Dean thought.

But Dick visited his grave. Dick talked to him and apologized and the time Jason had overheard him clearly hadn’t been the first time. He had to wonder just how often Dick had actually visited, if it’d been a regular thing. Why had he visited? Because going to Jason’s grave to talk to him multiple times spoke of more than just a guilty conscience.

With a deep sigh, he wiped a hand down his face. Why couldn’t anything in his life ever be simple? Why did he have to feel bad about being angry with Dick? “Stupid,” he muttered under his breath. He shook his head, before finally shuffling back to Dean’s bed, holding the glass at arm’s length for Dick, not quite meeting his eyes. “Drink.”

@dramatisperscnae

He was lost in the darkness. Not the familiar darkness of Gotham's alleyways, or even that of Bludhaven's streets, but a darkness so complete, so all-encompassing that he couldn't begin to try and find a way through. A part of him wasn't sure he even should. Not when he had echoes of voices coming from all sides. Voices he knew, voices he didn't, but all of them agreeing on one point.

He had failed.

He was nowhere near good enough, he never would be. Never had been. Not when he'd first faced Two-Face and learned the hard way how cruel his new world could be, and not when he'd pushed away his replacement a boy who'd only ever wanted a brother, and not when he'd tried to pull Bruce out of a self-destructive spiral only to be kicked out. Not when he'd been pushed out of the Titans, or when his relationship with Kory finally blew up.

And then there was Bludhaven. How hadn't he failed in Bludhaven? He'd lost Barbara because he'd been too caught up in everything else to notice how he'd been slipping with her. He'd lost his job - a job he'd loved - because he'd pushed too hard and Amy hadn't been able to trust him. His identity had been discovered by the one man he should have hidden it better from and innocents had paid for it in blood; the circus burnt to the ground, Parkland destroyed, all because of him. Catalina, the would-be vigilante he should have taught and guided better, pulling that trigger when he should have stopped her, and then afterward…

And then Chemo, and Slade, and the city Dick should have protected had been destroyed because of him. One hundred thousand and sixty eight people, their deaths on his head. Because he hadn't been good enough. Hadn't understood who he was dealing with. Hadn't thought for a second that Deathstroke would do something like this.

All of his failures, cycling through his head, and then, just to round it all off, Jason's voice cutting through all of it.

You're not my brother!

His one chance to maybe correct a failure and it had been taken away. Lost, probably years ago. He'd burned that bridge far too well. But Jason was alive, at least…and he'd been with that hunter, so he wasn't facing the world alone, right? Maybe the hunter could look after him the way Dick should have. That, at least, was a brighter thought than the ones that kept dragging Dick down. It offered a sliver of light, the barest thread of hope that he tried to reach for, to pull himself back out.

Slowly the darkness faded. Overhead an unfamiliar ceiling came into view, dimly lit from what might be a lamp somewhere. This wasn't his room. It wasn't the penthouse, or the manor, or the cave, or Leslie's…and it wasn't the alley Dick could vaguely remember having been in before everything had gone dark. Where was he? And what was in his arm? There was a tube, running to an IV of some clear liquid…saline, maybe? And beyond that someone in a chair, sitting by the bed. Bruce…? No. No, that was-

"Jason…?"

@therebetterbepie

[vampiredaisiesss]

Hi lovely! I love your works!! I was wondering if you could do an imagine where reader wants to have a baby but she thinks that Dean doesn’t, so she doesn’t bring it up, until one day Dean mentions something about having a baby with her?

A/n: This one was new for me so I hope I did it justice! Also, apologies for taking this long <3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader.

Warnings: fluff...? (Somebody tell me why this is a warning 😭)

Word count: 1000

The instant Garth called, you three rushed in to help, sensing it was about a hunt. Much to the boys' bafflement and your amusement, you found out that 'this hunt' required you to babysit Garth's kids while the couple went out on a date.

Now three hours later, here you were, trying to put the kids to sleep.

"This Cas keeps looking at me weird," Dean said, having a little staring contest with baby Cas.

"So kinda like the real Cas," Sam remarked, holding baby Sam in his lap.

Both of you snorted as Dean rolled his eyes, rocking the baby in his arms. The conversation soon turned to them whining about the task at hand and you zoned out, not being able to look away from the rare yet warmth inducing sight in front of you.

Dean had been doing a pretty great job with the babies. To say Sam was shocked would be an understatement. You weren't surprised though. He was practically the one who raised his little brother. Of course, he was going to be good at it.

Ever since you were little, you loved kids and often wondered about having your own one day. Needless to say, your dreams of having a normal life were shattered as soon as you were thrust into the world of hunting. Heck, you had even accepted the fact you were never going to find love or have a family.

Then one day, the Winchesters walked into your life and everything changed. You fell in love with the cocky son of a bitch who was soon to be your husband and even found a little brother in the other Winchester.

And now watching Dean being so domestic, so fatherly was reigniting the flames of longing you had kept hidden inside you for so long.

He fed the kids, played with them and even hummed out a little lullaby. In his every action, you saw a possibility. You saw him holding your child for the first time. A little Winchester boy or girl who'd have their father's eyes or his adorable freckles.

But one could only dream so far.

It's not like Dean wanted kids anyway. He'd often talk about how much he wanted to marry you and make you his for the rest of his life. Never ever had he brought up kids, expect when he'd complain about how Garth rarely got any time for himself after Cas and Sam were born.

The thought made you sigh, and you shook yourself awake from your daydreams to enjoy the closest to being normal you could ever get.

You were in your room, finishing up getting changed when a pair of strong arms snuck around your waist, enveloping you from behind. "Today was nice," Dean murmured, placing his head on your shoulder.

You met his eyes through the mirror in front of you, melting into his touch. "Really?" You teased. "I thought you wanted to get wasted and binge-watch hentai instead?"

"That, and..." he smirked, lowering his hands on your body while playfully pretending to bite you. You giggled in response, trying to stop him. "So much more. No, but I really do mean it. Today was nice."

"Which part?" You chuckled as the images of your boyfriend covered in puke flashed before your mind. "The diaper changing or the artwork Cas did on you?"

The Winchester smiled, shaking his head. "All of it. You seemed happy today. Content. Not to mention how adorable..." he nuzzled your neck, planting soft kisses as you closed your eyes in pleasure. "...you looked playing with the kids. All I could think about was how much I wanted them to be ours..."

Dean placed his hands on your stomach, your eyes flying open. "Dean?"

"If that's what you want," you looked at his reflection, finding his love-filled eyes staring back at you.

"But I thought you didn't want kids?" You asked, taken aback by his words.

"I didn't. Not until I met you," your heart swelled at his words, your hands finding his on your belly. He squeezed them gently. "I want our kids, Y/n. And today made me realize just how much. I want to build a family with you. Do you?"

That fool! He glanced at you for an answer as if you'd say anything but yes. God, it was everthing you had ever wanted. How could you say no?

Squealing with joy, you turned around and threw your arms around his neck. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Really?" His eyes widened.

"Really,"

At your conformation, Dean beamed, pressing his lips to yours passionately. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him as close as you could. You broke apart, both gasping for air as he pressed his forehead to yours, love and mischief twinkling in his beautiful green eyes.

"Wanna make a beautiful little baby?"

After that, let's just say Sam was lucky he decided to come home late that night.

[byeol-ssi]

hiya byeool! i read your selfship ask game and i can't stop thinking about being academic rivals with artem ever since 😭

can i request a oneshot for it? id love for you to expand on it since i loved your marius fic. feel free to base it on your selfship but maybe a confession scene?

no rush though! thank you and have a good day!

where you're meant to be

✦ artem wing x gn!reader | tears of themis

✦ tags: academic rivals to lovers, one-sided rivalry, confessions

✦ link to self-ship ask game.

"you're shaking." ARTEM's hand comes down on top of your knee. 

you hadn't even realized that you'd been bouncing your leg up and down nervously. if it was any other day, you would have probably shoved off his gorgeously sculpted hand, but right now, the weight felt uncomfortably comforting. 

not that you'd ever admit to that. 

instead, you scowled. "involuntary trembling is the body's response to a perceived threat, which in this case, manifests in the form of 500 people, bright lights, and a two-minute speech."

you should be celebrating, hollering your lungs out, or doing your little victory dance backstage. after graduation, you'd at least be free for a short while until you landed your dream job. no more all-nighters. no more drowning yourself in whatever drink helped you stay awake. no more wallowing in self-deprecating tears. 

and no more of artem wing. 

you startled, hearing him call out your name from beside you. your co-valedictorian and sworn adversary ever since you butted heads in a debate that landed both of you in the dean's office. 

that was the first and last time you ever lost to him. 

whenever you two weren't paired together ⁠— which happened a lot more often than not, much to your annoyance and bewilderment ⁠— you were determined that every accomplishment after, whatever it was, ended with you either above or equal to him. 

because he was perfect. too perfect. 

you've never caught him with bags under his eyes or a hair strand out of place. there was never a single piece of lint on his smoothly ironed-out clothes that also fit his frame too perfectly.

he was devastatingly attractive, flawlessly well-mannered, and frighteningly intelligent. he likewise breezed through every subject so effortlessly, it was utterly unfair.

you turned towards him. "what?" 

he looks at you like he always has. unnervingly patient. sometimes, you wondered if he had any feelings at all, since he could stomach whatever attitude you threw his way. 

"what hormones do our bodies release whenever we're stressed?" he repeats slowly. 

huh? you blink. 

when you stare at him blankly, those cerulean eyes flick towards the audience for all of two seconds before going back to meet yours. "do you not know the answer?" 

"of course, i do." you sucked in a sharp breath, narrowing your eyes. you weren't going to allow him to make you feel like an idiot, especially not in a moment of weakness. "it's epinephrine," you snapped.

"and?" he prompts, not at all fazed by the spite in your voice. 

"norepinephrine," you answered in a tone that sounded a lot like, duh. 

he hums, squeezing your knee with the tiniest amount of pressure. "you're correct." 

your heart, which had already been pulsing much too quickly, skipped a beat from the gesture. what was wrong with you? your heart? skipping a beat for your least favorite robot in the world? 

but then he kept going, "and how about when we're feeling joy?" 

you wonder if he had any underlying motives for suddenly engaging you in a pop quiz. perhaps he was finally asserting his superiority.

cautiously, you provided him with answers to all the random questions he proceeded to ask you from then on, not limited to biology, but to every class you shared together. 

when the weight of his hand is lifted from your knee, only then do you realize that you'd completely stopped shaking. the tight coil of nerves in your stomach likewise felt like they'd been detangled one by one from artem's questions. 

why did he ...

you're about to say ... something when your name reverberates throughout the auditorium, signaling your speech. 

you take a deep breath when you stand. you could do this, you told yourself. straightening your shoulders, you glance at artem one final time. 

he wore the faintest smile that made his eyes crinkle handsomely — one that was directed at you. probably his least favorite person in the world. 

and you take on that podium headfirst. still nervous, but not as terrified as before. 

"ARTEM!"

artem glances behind him to see you, chest heaving for air. it was unusual for you to call out to him first, even though you somehow always ended up together. 

alright, that was only partially true, as artem did request to get partnered with you multiple times on several occasions. 

without your knowledge.

and he'll bring that little secret to his grave. 

you take a bold step forward and thrust a hand out without meeting his eyes. he tilts his head, slightly baffled by the gesture. 

you cleared your throat. "i suppose this is goodbye." 

ah, a farewell handshake. hesitantly, he allows himself to touch you again. 

he's not sure what came over him earlier, placing a hand on your knee of all places, but he's long learned your body language and signs to know that you were nervous. 

and though he's always admired you for being so self-capable — only one of your many traits and characteristics that he loves about you, his most favorite person in the world — the urge to offer you some semblance of comfort had overridden his judgment.

he clasps your hand in his, mildly bothered at the anti-climactic situation. this wasn't the kind of ending he'd hoped for after trying to muster up the courage and wait for the correct timing over the past four years.

"you've always pushed me to strive for excellence and do my very best, so thank you for being a formidable rival," you say, giving his hand a firm shake. 

artem's entire body tenses and his voice comes out just as stiffly as he clarifies, "rival?" 

"yeah." you shrugged. 

and the mystery behind your entire demeanor toward him finally makes sense, like jigsaw puzzles falling into place. embarrassment heats his ears.

"i wasn't aware that we were ever in a ..." he couldn't stop the frown from overtaking his usually composed features. " ... competition." 

"oh." your eyes widen at his revelation, and you drop his hand to bring yours up to slap your cheeks. "dear, themis. i've been acting like a bully toward you this entire time. you always treated me so kindly, that i sort of found it condescending, when truthfully, i think i'm just in denial. you're actually one of the sweetest persons i know, and i can't believe i've been so mean and nasty —" 

"it's fine," he assures you, stopping your tirade and coughing into his fist as he struggles with his next words. "i was more concerned over the fact that you seemed to despise me." 

your lips part open, the same expression you wore whenever you were considering something deeply. this too, was one of his favorite sights to stare at during lectures. 

a long, silent moment stills between you as he also holds his breath, awaiting your answer.

"i don't," you eventually admit. "the only reason i ever competed with you was so you could see that i was worthy enough." 

he blinks slowly. in a quiet voice, he says, "i never once thought that you were any less." 

"and i never believed that you were below or above me." he continues, watching your features soften and carefully reaching out for both of your hands again.

he pauses for a moment, choosing the most suitable words to convey his long-buried affections. "i've wanted you from where you always were. where do you think that is?"

you furrow your brows, and he almost laughs. you appeared wary, an image of a distrustful kitten popping into his head, similar to when he'd flooded you with questions earlier. 

"somewhere ... far away?" you guess, raising your shoulders in uncertainty. 

"incorrect." artem shakes his head, hurrying to finish, knowing that you'd definitely challenge him. "i want you to stay beside me — like this. like you always have been." 

"you'll get sick of me," you warn playfully, yet he's studied you long enough to know that you honestly believed that. "i positively know it."

and artem clicks his tongue fondly, moving his hands to cup your face, thumb sliding down your cheek. "wrong again." 

"you think i did alright?" you ask ARTEM, lacing your fingers and holding his hand like you'd done a thousand times. the action was so seamless now, so natural, that it hardly took him by surprise anymore.

he plants an affectionate kiss on your temple, another gesture he's grown much more comfortable doing around people. "you were great. i'm extremely proud of you." 

"you still aren't threatened by me, at all? not even a teensy bit?"

"i'm afraid not. nevertheless, i'll only ever accept defeat from you." 

and your laughter echoes across the hall as you skip alongside your fiancé cheerfully. despite your ceaseless attempts of competing with him, he's been with you in every step of your journey, and for that, you couldn't be more grateful. 

and excited, because you'd have artem wing, your most favorite person in the world, for the rest of your life. 

✦ byeol's notes: happiest birthday to one of my biggest motivators for pursuing law, artem, my beloved! ♡

and to nonnie, thank you so much for making a request! i especially saved it for his birthday, so i hope you don't mind the wait, and that you see this.

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank you and ily.

[pinknatural]

Cas wakes up, as he often does, with his nose pressed into Dean’s shirt. Dean is wearing the shirt, of course, and Cas inhales the scent of husband-laundry-sleep-soft and tightens his grip around Dean’s waist. Dean sighs, a soft unconscious noise, and Cas hums, happy, sleep weighing on his eyelids once again, pulling him tumbling back under.

  When Cas wakes again, he is alone. This is also normal, since Dean likes to get up and get started on breakfast, so Cas rolls onto his back, stares up at the ceiling. He flexes his hands and sits up, scrubbing sleep from his eyes, and when he turns to slip on his slippers (his feet get cold but he cannot sleep in socks), his gaze falls on a vase of flowers on his nightstand. The flowers weren’t there before he went to bed. 

They’re lovely, pale blue forget-me-knots. Cas touches a petal gently, smiling at the little blossoms. There’s a small card on the table beside them. Cas picks it up. It’s a white piece of paper, folded in half, with a crayon drawing of a red balloon on front, drawn in shaky hand. Cas flips it open.

I LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER YOU ARE THE BESTEST DADDY EVER!!!!

It says on the inside, with two distinct stick figures drawn under the words, one tall and dark haired, one small and blonde. Both are winged, with careful crayon swirls around their heads, making a child’s approximation of accurate halos. This is the greatest gift Cas can fathom, and he folds the card carefully, tucking it safely inside his bedside drawer. 

He glances at the flowers again, shaking his head fondly before he stands and crosses his bedroom and goes down to the kitchen. 

Soft music is playing, resolving from some sort of beat into Led Zeppelin as Cas approaches. He watches Dean at the stove, flipping pancakes, while Jack stretches up to carefully put one of Cas’ honey jars on the counter. Then Jack crosses the kitchen and clambers onto the chair beside Dean to watch him flip the pancakes. 

“I wanna do it!” Jack says, and Dean turns to smile at him. Neither of them have noticed Cas in the doorway. He’s content with that, watching Jack wrap a tiny hand around the spatula, Dean helping him wedge the plastic between the pan and the cake. Little face screwed in concentration, Jack flips the pancake over. “I did it! Did you see, Dee!”

“I saw!” Dean says, taking the spatula out of flying hands. “You did so good!”

Cas can’t help himself--he claps. Dean and Jack turn to face him, and almost instantly Jack is off the chair and barrelling towards Cas. 

“Daddy I did it! I flipped the pancake!”

“You did amazing,” Cas says, bending over and picking up his son easily. “How lucky I am to have such a talented son.” Jack wraps his arms around Cas’ neck and buries his face in his neck. Cas cradles him as he crosses the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” Cas says, greeting Dean with a kiss. Dean meets the press of their lips briefly.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he says. Cas smiles. After much insisting, mostly from Jack, Cas had picked a random day for a birthday. He likes the spring, so he picked the beginning of it. He hadn’t thought he would care much for a birthday, but he’s only been awake for about half an hour and already he feels special. He hopes Dean felt as special for his birthday, a few months ago, and that Jack will feel even more special on his, in almost a month. 

“Happy birthday Daddy!” Jack cheers, kicking his little legs, and Cas shifts one hand to put on a leg, stilling him. 

“Thank you, my little honeybee,” he says, pressing a kiss to the soft blonde hair, and then turning back to Dean, who’s half-focused on the pancakes but still attentive, always attentive. “And thank you, my darling. I loved the flowers.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, flushing a little. 

“Yes,” Cas says, firmly. He wants to kiss him, but Dean is pouring more batter onto the pan and Cas doesn’t want to distract him. Instead he looks back at Jack. 

“And thank you for your card,” he says, and Jack beams at him, gap-toothed and wide. 

Dean sends them both to the table to wait. It’s already set, otherwise Cas would’ve started to. He rolls his eyes when he sees the napkins carefully folded under the forks. Of course Dean would go the extra mile to make sure Cas doesn’t have to set the table on his birthday. 

“Hey kid, I need my sous chef!” Dean calls, and Jack scrambles off of Cas’ lap and back into the kitchen. Cas turns back to the table, reaching out for the mug of somewhat-warm coffee that’s sitting by his plate. There are cheerful white daisies placed in the center of the table. Cas hides his smile in the mug. 

There’s a piece of yellow cardstock, folded up in front of Cas’ plate. He puts his mug down and reaches for the paper, his name written on the front in familiar handwriting.

Hey, Cas. You know you’re my best friend, right? I hope you do. I’m really glad you pulled Dean’s stupid ass out of hell, and even gladder you decided to stick around. These past thirteen years have been pretty great ‘cause you were in them. You make my life better, and not just ‘cause I like seeing Dean happy. I’m proud to call you my brother, man. Hope you have an awesome day. 

Cas wipes away a stray tear, running a finger along Sam’s narrow handwriting. Oh, Sam. Cas has had many brothers, but Sam is by far his favorite.

Dean and Jack bustle into the dining room with plates of food, and Cas catches a soft smile from Dean directed at the card in Cas’ hands. Cas puts it aside and digs in to the delicious breakfast Dean and Jack made for him, vowing to thank Sam later. 

After breakfast, Dean insists Cas vacate the entire downstairs so he can decorate for the party without Cas seeing, so he takes Jack outside to play. It’s finally warm enough that all Jack needs is a sweatshirt, and he barrels around the backyard at full speed for several minutes before he comes back, crawling into Cas’ lap and demanding he tell him about butterflies. 

Cas obliges, trying not to think about the novelty of having a birthday party for the first time in the million years he’s been alive. 

“I useta be a butterfly but now I’m a caterpillar,” Jack says, chewing on one of his fingernails. Cas gently takes his hand out of his mouth. 

“You’re special,” he says. “My special little boy. You’ll be a butterfly again someday.”

“Okay,” Jack says, trusting in Cas, and he leans his head against Cas’ shoulder. Cas holds him. 

The party is at noon, and they have a pasta bar with spiral noodles. Every time Dean makes pasta he gets a new type of noodle, and the novelty of this hasn’t worn off for either of them yet. 

Sam and Eileen bear a wrapped present and tight hugs. Cas tells Sam thank you for the card, and Sam grins at him and claps him on the shoulder, squeezing gently. 

“Love you, dude,” he says, then he bends down to greet Jack. Eileen scoops Cas into a hug so tight it feels like she’s going to lift him up, but she doesn’t, just reaches up to ruffle Cas’ hair and take the present from Sam to set it on the counter. 

Jody and the girls come in with a bustle of activity, and the house gets even louder when Garth sets his toddlers on the ground. Jack runs over to them to play, and Cas greets Garth and Bess happily. 

There’s a lot of people, and the house is beautiful decorated with balloons and streamers. After lunch but before presents and desserts, Cas finds himself sitting on the couch, taking a moment. Jack runs up to him, holding a piece of paper, and he gives it to Cas before running away. Cas assumes it must be a drawing, and he opens it gently. 

It’s not a drawing. 

One time I went hunting for a banshee and I met some tall idiot. That day when he walked away I thought to myself “yeah, I’m gonna marry that guy”. I did, obviously, since I’m always right, and there are a lotta perks to being married to Sam, but I think some of my favorites (well, the PG favorites) are the family I gained. I grew up mostly on my own and I hunted mostly on my own, and I never really knew what I was missing. Cas, I’m so glad I found family with you. Thank you for embracing me and taking me in, making sure that even if Sam is a Leahy now that I knew I was a Winchester, too. I really appreciate that. And look, don’t tell Dean, but you’re definitely my favorite brother. You deserve nothing but the best, and I hope you know that. And I hope you get it. I love you, Cas.

Cas looks up. Eileen winks at him from across the room, then turns back to Alex. Dean sits down with an exaggerated oof beside him, wrapping an arm around his neck. Cas turns to him, burying his face in his shoulder. Dean runs his fingers through Cas’ hair tenderly. Cas has no idea what to say. 

Dean made a cake, despite the fact that he doesn’t really like cake. It’s chocolate, and has HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAS written on the top in green frosting, and it’s delicious. Cas kisses him after taking one bite, somehow thinking it wouldn’t be good because Dean doesn’t make cake ever. But he was wrong. 

“He came over to our place and practiced,” Sam tells him, grinning. 

“He made us eat all the practice rounds,” Eileen groans. 

“Stop spillin’ all my secrets,” Dean says without bite, handing a slice of cake to Patience. Cas has to kiss him again. 

Garth and Bess gift Cas with a hand-knitted sweater, made by Garth. Jody and Donna give him a gift card to a spa day. Alex gives him a bag of artisanal pastas, in yet another shape that has Cas beaming. Patience gives him a package of seven colors of nail polish, noting that she’d seen him wear nail polish before but only ever in one color. Kaia and Claire give him a record for a band that Claire introduced to Cas, and Sam and Eileen give him three books, two of poetry and one a fiction novel Sam promises Cas he’d like. Jack hands Cas his present with much solemnity, and when Cas opens it he reveals a bright purple fidget spinner. 

“It matches,” Jack explains, referring to his own purple fidget spinner, lost somewhere in Jack’s shark bedsheets. Cas tells Jack he loves it, and he does. 

“More cake?” Dean asks, when everyone has left, including Jack, because Sam and Eileen took him for the rest of the weekend. Cas wanders over to the counter. 

“Sure,” he says. Dean turns around to cut a new slice. He passes Cas a fork, and a napkin, and a folded card, and the plate of cake. Cas looks at the card, then at Dean, who has already busied himself with a new piece of cake. Cas rolls his eyes and opens it. 

Hey, Dufus. It’s kinda hard to tell you this stuff but I guess that’s where writing it down comes in handy. I don’t actually have to look at you. Um, I just wanted to thank you I guess, for coming back. I know I’m not easy but you never give up on me and it really means a lot. Thanks for watching over me and healing me when I do stupid stuff on hunts. I guess if someone had to snatch my dad’s face, I’m glad it was you. Couldn’t imagine a better stepdad, or whatever you are. Love you.

Cas swallows, says, “You should’ve given me this before she left.”

“She wanted me to wait,” Dean says, crossing the kitchen with his own slice of cake. 

“Well,” Cas says, but doesn’t have anything else to add. Dean bumps him with his hip. Cas picks up his fork.

They go out to dinner. When they come back, Dean crawls onto their bed, ruffles through his bedside table. By the time Cas has taken off his slacks and the sweater Garth gave him, switching it out for an Zeppelin shirt he stole from Dean and pajama pants, Dean has a wrapped present on the bed beside him and yet another card sitting on top of it. Cas gets on the bed and ignores them both, reaching for Dean. 

“Don’t you want to read your card?” Dean asks, wrapping his arms around him anyway. “Open your present?”

“I know what it says,” Cas mumbles into Dean’s chest, because he does. Because Dean shows him every day how much he loves him, how much he cares, and he even showed him by asking Cas’ family to make cards for him. This whole lovely, perfect day was orchestrated by Cas’ lovely, perfect husband, and he doesn’t need to read it to know. 

Of course he will read it, and open the present, but right now he wants Dean to hold him. 

“Thank you,” he says, shifting so that his face is tucked against Dean’s neck, tangling their legs together. Dean always holds him so tight. Beautiful, amazing Dean. 

“Anytime,” Dean says. He presses a kiss to Cas’ hair, and they lay together for a long, long time before Cas reads his card, opens his present, realizes Dean is still dressed for the restaurant, helps him take his clothes off, and then gets thoroughly distracted before he can help put them back on. 

“It was a good birthday?” Dean asks. Cas sighs and snuggles closer. 

“The best.”

[compo67]

Sam.

Hrmm? Dean?

Wake up.

I'm up.

My stomach hurts.

I told you to stop eating cereal so late and to quit putting ice cubes in it.

This isn't I'm gonna barf hurt. It's different.

Anxiety?

Maybe.

Sugar before bed won't help it.

Lay off my goddamn cocoa puffs. It's not that.

Then what is it??

Look, Professor. What do you know about anticipatory grief.

Anticipatory grief?

You heard me.

Uh. Well. It's like grieving, but ahead of schedule.

It messes with your brain, right?

I suppose. Yes. It puts your brain into fight flight or freeze mode for an extended period of time. I'm not a psychologist though.

Kiss me, Sammy.

O-Kay, sure. Here.

Did anyone else mention how good you are at that?

A few.

I'm the only one who got to bring home gold, huh?

That's one way of putting it, yeah.

Imagine the two of us, our brains crazy with anticipatory grief, running ourselves into the ground.

I don't know where you're headed with this...

Sometimes I'm still running myself into the ground just so I can... never mind.

Dean.

Hmm.

Dean, you should kiss me.

Why?

Because.

Because why?

Because I want you to.

If I do, I'll wake up.

You're already awake.

Tell me something you haven't told me before.

Something I haven't told you before? Like that exists?

I know you keep your secrets, Professor.

Hmm. He wants a secret. Okay. I hate crunchy peanut butter.

Real mature, Sam.

I'm sorry, I didn't know you expected me to bare my soul.

Make with the secret.

Ugh, must I?

You must, you must.

Okay, Waco Kid. Listen up. I've had a lot of dysphoria in my life. That's not a secret. The secret is that I hated my body the most when I was soulless.

What? Why...

You said share a secret, don't go full Godfather and shoot it up.

I never knew.

Sorry for the snark, but it was a secret.

Okay, okay. Fair. But why? I mean. I get that you weren't you.

I've never been muscular like that. I had muscle, but that was a whole new level. It took me a few years to feel... at home in my body again. I don't know how 'I' did it, you know? Steroids? Protein shakes? Constant push ups? I don't remember.

I'm sorry, Sam.

You don't have to apologize, Dean.

Still. Why is so much of the past so painful? You'd think it'd hurt less over time, but nope. Not for yours truly.

Well, maybe it's the way you approach your past?

Sometimes, Sam, I wake up and I immediately feel lonely. It doesn't go away until I hear or feel you breathe for a few seconds.

Dean.

I want to accept loss. I want to accept that things hurt and shit fucked me up. I want to accept that I can feel peace and be a good person. That I deserve it.

You do deserve it.

Be nice if that'd sink in.

I'll make it sink in and remind you. Every single day. You deserve this. You deserve me and I deserve you. That's what happens when you choose each other.

...it is?

Absolutely.

Does looking back hurt for you?

Sorta. If I think about it too much. Or too often. I prefer to stay as present as possible. Dean, don't hog the blankets.

I'm not hogging. I'm... strategically gathering.

Whatever.

So, staying in the present. How's that working out for you?

I get plenty of kisses, that's one thing.

Kisses? What about smooches?

Gotta have the smooches.

Sam, you make me laugh.

Dean, you make me want to make you laugh.

My stomach feels better. Thank you.

Oh, good. You're welcome.

I might need a smooch though.

Here. You can have two.

[lxngbottom]

could you maybe do like Neville and reader accidentally falling asleep together? like some super duper fluffy stuff. gryffindor reader would be cool. :)

A Few Minutes Won’t Hurt. | N.L.

in which two best friends “accidentally” fall asleep to each other.

warnings: fluff!!!!! maybe a bit of swearing as well

i can’t even stress this enough..... i love neville longbottom </3

—

your eyelids seemed to develop a mind of their own as you laid beside neville, his lips letting words of rambles slip past. you were trying your best to be attentive, but you couldn’t help but to find yourself slipping into a daze of sleep every so often.

“y/n,” you heard, and your arm shook. your eyes shot open, and you smiled over at neville who was now sitting up, his elbowing providing him with some support. “are you falling asleep on me?” he teased, a goofy grin on his face.

you shook your head, “no... just—tired...” you mumbled back, your eyes slowly starting to close once again. neville couldn’t help but to go red by the simple look of you, and how absolutely adorable you looked right now.

“well... you look like you’re falling asleep to me.” he whispered, still trying to tease you. you smiled in your sleepy daze, his words focusing in and out. “come on, let me take you back to your dorm, love.”

“no... sleep—here... you...” your words were beginning to become incoherent, that familiar tiredness taking over your whole being as your tried to respond. he chuckled quietly, and moved a piece of hair out of your face, discreetly admiring you.

“but, you can’t. here... come on, y/n. let’s go.” he shook your arm, but, you didn’t budge. only groaned and tossed over to where your face was buried in his chest. his eyes went wide when he realized the closed space between the both of you, and for a moment, he considered scooting away from you. but then, he felt your warmth, and how simply... comfortable you seemed. “y/n...” he tried one more time, rubbing your arm.

but, you didn’t open your eyes. you were officially knocked out.

neville sighed, and glanced around his dorm for a moment before looking at the time on his watch. he knew his friends would be back at any moment, and that you would be forced to leave. but, he didn’t want you to go. you looked so... content laying beside him. a small smile etched across your lips as small breaths escaped your nostrils.

neville shrugged his shoulders, and kicked his shoes off. he carefully pulled the blanket out from underneath the both of you, and made sure you were completely covered, giving in to you. he always gave in to you. you had him completely wrapped around your finger and you didn’t even realize it.

he laid down beside you, your faces dangerously close to one another. he stared at you, small thoughts of him being creepy taking over him for a moment. but, he couldn’t help it. you were just so pretty.

so, it was decided.

“a few minutes won’t hurt...” he muttered to himself, pulling you closer to him once more.

and that’s when the haziness took over, and before he knew it, neville was fast asleep.

—

“bloody hell! wake up you two!”

the loud noise of something falling on the floor made neville’s eyes widen, and he glanced over to see all of his dorm mates scuffling to get ready.

seamus scoffed, “finally! you’re awake, longbottom! you need to get her out of here before you get us all in trouble!”

what was seamus talking about?

that’s when neville turned over, his mind still clouded due to his sudden disturbance of slumber. but, he only met eyes with your closed ones, and a small pool of drool on his pillow.

he jumped, and his eyes widened as he rubbed them.

“oh... shit, shit, shit!” he muttered, practically jumping off the bed, and almost tumbling over his own feet as he stood up on the floor, his eyes still wide. ron chuckled at his clumsy friend, and walked over to join neville in staring at you as you slept.

“so... i assume you two were—“

“no! no, no, no! it was a complete accident! we were studying, and then we just started to talk, and then—“

his dorm mates broke out into a fit of laughter as the boy tried to explain himself, his speech super fast and almost incomprehensible,

“i’m just messing with you, longbottom! i don’t really care!” ron patted neville on the shoulder, leaving neville to chuckle awkwardly and mutter a, “yeah, totally...”

“seriously, though. she needs to get up!” seamus announced once more, and then of course... “WAKE UP, Y/N!” he yelled, a smirk planted across his face.

you jolted, your good dream about finally kissing neville simmering away from you. you were very startled when you woke up, your hair an absolute mess, and yesterday’s makeup nothing but residue under your eyes.

but, as your vision focused, you realized where you were. and then, you remembered the night before. it didn’t really embarrass you as much as it did neville, but you were still baffled.

“fuck you, seamus... gonna give someone a bloody heart attack one day...” you groaned, uncovering yourself. seamus did nothing but chuckle, and him and dean left with shaking heads.

harry and ron were the next ones to exit, ron sending both of you a wink before harry pulled him away.

and here you were now, sitting up on the bed, still trying to collect your hazy thoughts.

“i’m really sorry, y/n! you fell asleep, and i felt bad for waking you up, so i just decided to—you know... shut my eyes for a bit! and then i guess i just never woke up and i just—“

“neville, hey!” you cut him off, giggling a bit at his nervousness. “it’s fine. if anything... i’m sorry for not getting up and leaving when you tried to get me to.”

that’s when neville’s cheeks went red, and he shot you a small smile. “i-it’s fine... you just looked—peaceful... you know?”

you grinned at him, “maybe it was because i was with you.”

neville tried to push his fluster away, but he couldn’t seem to when you say something like that.

“i should get going, though... sorry again, nev. i’ll see you at breakfast?” you kindly asked, grabbing your shoes off of the floor and walking towards the door.

some part of neville just wanted to grab you and pull you right back into bed with him. he would give anything just to hold you for a whole day, and just be lazy.

“yeah... i’ll see you a breakfast.”

—

i want to start a tag list, so pls lmk if you would like to be apart of that!

[calaofnoldor]

Driving My Baby

Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 2,183 (i can’t drabble)

Summary: Dean doesn’t know about your mad skills behind the wheel, but it turns out there’s nothing hotter than seeing his baby driving his Baby.

Warnings: implied smut, language, fluff, dean’s bow legs, references to the fast and furious franchise

A/N: was originally gonna post a slightly angsty 2-part dean fic next, but decided against it in light off recent events lol. there’s really no plot or substance here, just some light floof. (and yes, the title is a reference to the song ‘you’re having my baby’)

MASTERLIST

The roar of Baby’s engine rumbled to a halt as Dean glanced over at you, “Alright, so you gonna sit tight while I go scope this place out?”

You sent him a close-lipped smile, trying your best to repress the excitement bubbling within you. “Mhm!” you concurred with a bouncy nod, pausing to sneak a quick peek at his shapely behind when he stepped out of the car, “I’ll try and see if I can get a hold of that morgue guy again.”

Walking over to the passenger side, Dean bent down to kiss you through the open window. “Mmkay, I’ll be back soon,” he mumbled against your lips, before turning to commence his search for the potential vamp hideout you suspected was in the vicinity.

“Oh wait! Dean!” you called out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yeah?”

“The keys?”

Dean looked down at his pocket where the Impala’s keys were safely nestled and then back up at you with raised brows.

“You’re not gonna leave me in here like a dog, are you?” There was a subtle hint of amusement in your voice, but also a challenging edge, as well as a slight pout which you added for good measure. You knew he could never really say ‘no’ to you.

And as expected, Dean returned to deposit the keys into your waiting hands. You gave him a wide smile in return, “Thank you! Love you!”

Your boyfriend narrowed his glimmering green eyes at you, imparting one last suspicious glimpse in your direction as he grumbled somewhat warily, “Love you too,” and then finally sauntered off for good.

Biting your lip, you watched with bated breath as his figure grew smaller in the rear-view mirror. Normally, you would have enjoyed the exquisite vision of what you often dubbed his ‘sexy ass bow-legged swagger’, but this time, it was when Dean was no longer in sight that a devilish grin broke out across your face.

But really, who could blame you? You’d been a car enthusiast all your life, and classic cars were your weakness. “It’s just you and me now, Baby.” Your fingers glided along the dashboard.

With Sam on the bench due to a broken ankle (courtesy of the werewolf from your last hunt), you and Dean had driven out to Piedmont to take care of this vampire case on your own. So now after two years with the Winchesters, you finally had a chance to explore the front seat of Dean’s Baby, his pride and joy, the glorious, refurbished 1967 Chevy Impala.

When you’d joined forces with the brothers, it was readily agreed upon that you would be better off riding together in the sleek American muscle car, so you ditched your stolen, rusty 2003 Honda Accord and never looked back. Since there was a giant moose to accommodate, you were naturally relegated to the back seat, and rightfully so, but boy, did you miss the thrill of being in the driver’s seat.

You were always a bit of a demon behind the wheel, and it’d been ages since you’d gotten the chance to flex your driving skills. Back when you and Dean first got together, he promised you joyrides (and other recreational activities) in Baby, but the hunting life never seemed to let you get it on.

Sliding across the bench seat, your lungs released a contented sigh as you wrapped your hands around the leather-bound steering wheel. Dean’s bowlegs, however sexy, were not the same length as yours, so you pulled the lever beneath the seat to adjust its position to your liking. Perfect.

You took your time getting to know the ins and outs at the helm of the Impala, though it seemed like none at all had passed when you suddenly heard Dean’s deep voice cry out.

“Y/N!” Your eyes shot up to the rear-view mirror to find an image of the older Winchester running towards the car. “We gotta go!”

Well that’s strange, you thought. Dean never ran – not unless someone, or more often something, was chasing him… Oh shit. Had he somehow woken the vampires? But the sun was still thriving; how much could they retaliate out in the open at this point during the day?

“We gotta get outta here! Now!”

Dean’s voice was much closer now and if you’d learned anything from your experiences hunting with the Winchesters, it was to never doubt your boyfriend’s commands. He was a seasoned pro and possessed instincts like you’d never seen. It’s a good thing you’ve also got some of your own.

Plunging Baby’s key into the ignition, you started the car without hesitation, allowing yourself only a second to relish in the thunderous purr of the engine below you and the incomparable feeling of glee that always sprouted in your chest whenever you were sat at the wheel of a powerful, capable vehicle. Indeed, the adrenaline was already rearing.

As Dean approached the car, you quickly reached over to open the passenger side door for him. “Get in the car!”

“You- Wha-“ Dean stumbled for a split second, so accustomed to taking the driver’s seat. “Y/N, they’re awake and they’ve got bikes – a bunch of Harleys!” he continued to explain, as if that would get you to move out of his designated spot.

“OK, so hurry up!” you yelled again.

Seeing no better option, Dean hastily climbed into the car. Just as he got in, your ears picked up the unmistakable resounding growl of revving motorcycle engines. From the sound of it, they couldn’t be too far off. So when Dean slammed the door shut, your foot came down fast and heavy against Baby’s gas pedal, propelling you forward with an aggressive lurch before you whizzed off, burning rubber and leaving nothing but flying leaves and dust in your wake.

“Jesus!” Dean bellowed; his eyes had grown to about twice their usual size.

You paid him no attention though, too busy reveling in the delightful buzz that vibrated through your body starting from your fingers and toes, where you could feel every unit of Baby’s intoxicating horsepower, and travelling up your limbs until the exhilaration settled deep within your very core.

Stealing a glance at the rear-view mirror, you caught sight of the monster-driven motorcade advancing considerably, so you decided to take the next available turn as an attempt to throw them off. Things were getting truly exciting now.

“Vamps on bikes? Really?! And covered in leather?” you huffed mirthfully with a shake of your head.

But it was Dean’s turn to ignore you. He was clutching at his door tightly, as if afraid your driving might somehow hurl him out of it. In fact, when you took the first corner without warning, Dean just about fell over.

“Woah! Slow down, Toretto!” he shouted in alarm, looking over at you as if you’d grown a second head.

Seeing you’d managed to surprise the vampires with your unexpected maneuver however, a loaded smirk was your only reply.

It took you about twenty minutes to get the vamps off your tail, during which time Dean managed to recover from his initial shock and began instead to absorb your radiant form. The look of exuberance on your face and the utter determination in your bright eyes, mixed with the mischievous tug of your lips, and combined with the all-around liberated and euphoric aura that surrounded you was sexy as hell, not to mention your sheer competence. All of it astounded him and caused his blood to flow to places he could not have foreseen.

You seemed to be completely at one with his esteemed Baby, handling her with perfect control and aptitude, and all the while enjoying yourself so very much. It was something Dean never knew you were capable of, but more so, it was something he never knew he needed.

Dean had always loved how much you loved and appreciated his car, but this made him feel like he was seeing you in a new light; it made him feel like he was falling for you all over again. That devilish glint in your normally kind and virtuous eyes, your ever jubilant and fervent love for life after enduring so much pain and grief, the way you never ceased to amaze and surprise him – it was all gloriously heady and irresistibly addictive. His teeth couldn’t help but pull at his lower lip, emerald eyes glazing over with lust and adoration as he stared over at you in the driver’s seat.

So when you ultimately pulled into an empty clearing, not wanting to lead the vamps straight back to your motel room, Dean was at a loss for words.

“So, a bloodsucking motorcycle gang, huh? Can’t say I’ve seen that before,” you speculated in a cheery, nonchalant tone, feeling perfectly satisfied after your little stunt driving escapade.

Dean, on the other hand, appeared not unlike a fish out of water with his furrowed brows and pouty lips which appeared undecided as to whether they should remain open or closed.

“That was… I just- You-… I don’t even know…” he ran his hands through his hair, pulling the short strands forward roughly, “What just happened?”

You sent him a small, innocent shrug, rather amused at his adorably stuttery response.

“You never told me you could drive like that.”

“You never asked,” you replied truthfully.

“Fuck, Y/N. That was… so… incredibly…”

What? Your curiosity was killing you. Dean’s opinion always mattered to you and at the moment, you could read a myriad of emotions upon his face. He looked stunned and confused, perhaps a bit frightened, but at the same time awed and impressed, and maybe even – were you reading that right? – slightly… aroused?

Dean lowered his voice to answer your unspoken question, “Hot,” he finished emphatically.

You heaved a breathy laugh, “Yeah?”

“Fuck yes! Baby, that was incredible. The way you handled Baby like a fucking pro, the little faces you made when you were living for the thrill of the chase. The skill, the speed, the Tokyo drifting, all of it. Goddamn, you are so sexy when you’re driving my Baby like that.”

“Well that’s a coincidence ‘cause I also happen to find you amazingly sexy when you’re behind this wheel,” you joked lightly, “In fact, I think seeing you drive this car might’ve been part of the reason I fell in love with you.”

“And I think I just fell in love with you all over again,” came Dean’s suave response.

You giggled a bit, but soon sobered when you saw his gorgeous eyes cloud over with wanton desire. One minute you were dwelling in the heavily charged sexual tension that seemed to consume the entire car, watching his gaze wander down to your lips while yours did the same, and in the next your mouths met ferociously as your bodies swooped forwards simultaneously, crashing together in the center of Baby’s front seat.

You moaned into the kiss, your hands finding their way around Dean’s ridiculously broad shoulders and up to his thick neck. When you were forced to come up for air, his lips began to work their way down to your collar bone. “Mmm, god Dean.”

“Seriously baby, that was such a turn on,” he rambled across your skin, “I didn’t even know driving could be so hot.”

Your laughter was really more just an exhalation of air. “Are we finally gonna do it? Are we gonna christen Baby now, thanks to your newfound kink?” you whispered salaciously, your brain already presenting obscene images of the two of you re-enacting something akin to the infamous Titanic scene.

Dean paused for a moment, allowing you to rip off his outer layers with relish before he brought his large hands up to cup your cheeks. “See I wouldn’t call it ‘newfound’,” he started, dazzling forest orbs boring into your soul, “Cause I’m pretty sure it only turns me on when it’s you behind the wheel, and I’ve always had a kink for you.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unable to keep the smile off your face, “You are such a smooth fucker sometimes, Dean Winchester.” And with that, your lips and bodies collided yet again. His strong hands held you impossibly close while yours ran joyously across his expansive chest before travelling down to find the zipper of his jeans.

“Ungh, wait a sec,” you pulled back a little with knitted brows, a playfully incredulous tone taking over your voice, “Did you call me Dominic Toretto earlier?”

“Well, yeah. You were driving like a madman!” Dean exclaimed candidly.

You smirked, “So does that make you Letty Ortiz?”

“Sweetheart, I will gladly be the Letty to your Dom anytime you want… I still can’t believe you just took me on a high-speed car chase, that was fucking awesome! Just wait ‘til Sam hears about this one!”

Laughing as you pulled him back in, you shut him up with your tongue as it invaded his mouth, pausing only to smile against his luscious lips, “Mmm, well maybe he doesn’t have to hear about this next part?”

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading, feedback always appreciated! oh and here’s a look at some new stuff at lexicolor.redbubble.com :)

[norestwithoutlove]

“If jimmy came back from the dead, what do you think he’d say when he finds out Dean and cas are together and have kids”

(i was asked this on twitter and shared there. but i know not all of you follow me there i thought i’d share on here too. this is how i answered)

sorry this one took a while to answer. i wanted time to think about it because i never even considered the thought before. a lot of people say to me "imagine if jimmy had never died in tbah" and kind of miss the point of the fic. like yeah, it’d be great. it’d be great if none of the people we loved had died. yeah, “imagine if jimmy had never died” misses the point - but this question doesn't. and i think it's what a lot of bereaved people wish for, anyway. just a chance to say everything, one last time.

  where to start.

  i think if jimmy came back for a day (and the thought makes me cry)... he'd knock on the door of the big white house. or they'd just find him sitting in his old armchair in the living room like nothing had happened at all. but something has happened, something massive and irreversible, so maybe him knocking on the door would fit better.

jack's probably the one to open it. he frowns and thinks he recognises the face smiling back at him, but it's older than he's ever seen it, and he's not so good with faces, so he's not sure. jimmy smiles and says hello, does castiel still live here?

and jack says “yes, why?”. jimmy still smiles. his smile is wider, warmer now. he says he's travelled very far. he says he's an old family friend. could he come in? it’s raining outside. it’s raining - and though jimmy stands under the porch, it’d be mean to leave him out in it. jack pulls open the door and says if jimmy is selling anything, they probably wont need it: they have everything they need in this house. jimmy smiles and says he's glad. he treads slowly down the hall, looking around him, like he's trying to savor it. he runs his finger along the crack in the mirror that has always been there, at least since jack arrived. he smiles to himself, but it’s a little sad.

he stops at a photo of dean and castiel playing on the tire swing they made when they were kids. his eyes pinch at their corners. jack says, “what are you smiling at?” jimmy says, i was there when that was taken. jack says “oh. that's my father”. and he points to castiel. jimmy turns to jack and smiles so wide tears wring out of his eyes. he asks, really? jack frowns and says “of course”. why would he lie about that? jimmy says, i hope he doesn't miss his own dad too much. jack says “sometimes he and dean get sad about it”. jimmy pauses. castiel and dean are friends? he asks. jack nods seriously. “best friends,” he answers. “everyone knows that.” jimmy takes a gentle hold of jack's shoulder and squeezes.

jack says “that's how dean squeezes my shoulder, too”. jimmy asks, you see him often? he asks it with a hopeful smile. jack nods with a frown, very serious. jimmy laughs and says, you know, you frown just like your father. funny thing, family resemblance. jack shrugs and says “maybe, but i was adopted”. 

jimmy falters. he blinks. he glances down the corridor again, and his eyes light on a different picture, taken decades after the one on the tire swing. he treads slowly towards it. jack follows after him, speaking. “i just think,” he frowns, and it's still castiel's frown, “if you really were close family friends with castiel, you'd know he adopted his children.” 

jimmy has stopped in front of the photograph and he stares at it, lips parted in a ghost-smile. family, friend. family, and a friend, jimmy corrects. that’s what i meant. i’m old family, and an old friend. jack watches him. “that's them on their wedding day,” he supplies. jimmy smiles. soft tears, tears like a gentle autumn rain, are on his cheeks, now. yes, he says, it is. a little late, considering, but maybe... he trails off. timed perfectly. a heavy footfall sounds on the stairs, a thunder to match the rain outside, and claire calls to jack, “dude, you said you'd get me a snack! it’s not rocket science! what’s the holdup?” but she stops short at the sight of the old man in the hall. claire's better with faces than jack. 

hello, jimmy smiles, but claire is already yelling for her dads.

it's a sunday afternoon. dean hadn't planned on being awake and active. he’d been napping while cas did a grocery run. but claire screaming to high heaven is a surefire way to set elanor into confusion. he groans and rolls out of bed, rubbing his eyes. he picks elanor up and carries her down the stairs in one arm. “claire,” he grumbles, “you know cas is out fuelling your damn addiction to lucky charms. what is it?”

he stops short at the foot of the stairs. his mouth is open and his eyes are glassy. elanor keeps asking “daddy are you okay? who’s that man?” and it takes dean a minute to stop staring before softly putting elanor down and telling her to go get her brother, jacob. “tell him there’s food in the kitchen, or something,” dean says, and jimmy hasn’t stopped staring or smiling warmly at him and his eyes are leaking autumn rain. “but there isn’t,” elanor says, and dean answers “so lie. there’s someone i—” but he can’t finish the sentence. and elanor shakes her head with serious disapproval and climbs back up the stairs.

dean steps toward him, trying to stammer out his name, but the tears strangle his voice and before he knows it he’s wrapped tight in jimmy’s arms, taller than him by far, now, but feeling eighteen again. feeling eighteen again and like he’s just finished yelling at jimmy that he doesn’t need a father, never needed a father, that he coped just fine without one, anyway. all of those things were lies when dean said them. he wants to say they were lies, wants to tell jimmy now that he needed a father, always needed a father, didn’t cope without one but that also, when he needed one most, jimmy was his father. he wants to say thank you. thank you, thank you, thank you for everything and sorry for every angry answer and scowl and bitter lie, please know dean didn’t mean them, he was just hurt and afraid. but jimmy already knows this. knew that, even then, and besides, the words won’t come. he just holds onto jimmy tight and thinks he probably did fall asleep in his bed and this is another one of those grief dreams, another one of those grief dreams that’s gonna throw him off for weeks but one he wants to savor forever.

he’s soaking jimmy’s shirt with tears. the guy smells like his old cologne. and blueberry pancakes. dean cries a little harder, afraid to let go.

“are you proud of me?”

it’s the first thing he’s managed to say to the old man. “are you proud of me?” he keeps asking, over and over again, and jimmy holds him tight and answers yes, yes, every time. yes.

and then cas comes home. cas comes home dripping from the rain from the walk to the front door and drops the damp brown paper bags onto the floor and apples roll onto the floor and he’s staring at his father and can’t speak, just like dean couldn’t speak, and can’t breathe. and jimmy is sat at the kitchen table with his grandchildren just like castiel mourned he would never be able to, and jacob is showing jimmy one of his paintings and elanor is holding his hand and claire has just made him a cup of tea, and jimmy smiles at castiel. “i see you got my last letter,” he says. and castiel steps into the kitchen and sobs that he’s sorry he never got to reply. and jimmy says that he’s sorry, too. cas shows him the little saplings they all planted for tu b'shevat, standing in a line on the windowsill. jimmy loved growing things. and cas asks how long jimmy has with them. when he’s going… back. to wherever ‘there’ is. 

and jimmy says he has until the rain stops. and castiel wishes it would rain forever, that all of kansas would be blanketed in it, a second flood, torrenting about the land, and them in their own ark, the big white house, bobbing about on the water, sharing food and stories and laughter and lost time, stolen time, time which was stolen from them. aren’t his and dean’s tears a substitute enough for rain when it stops, anyway? their tears are sure as rain in autumn, and not likely to ease soon. he wishes the rain would never stop. 

but it has to, eventually. all things do. no matter how blessed.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

JJ Maybank x reader

Summary:  You’re pregnant and before you can tell JJ, his dad finds out first.

A/N: pregnancy and angst, my two favorite things to write about. I’m sorry I took so long to get this out and posted. My aunt has been visiting from MO and I’ve been spending time with her!  Anon who requested this- i hope you like it and thank you for requesting!! Again, so so sorry for the wait. 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural (I’m only up to season 2, so please don’t request something with spoilers)**

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Outer Banks (Netflix):

John B Routledge

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

It was late when your phone rang on your bedside table. Rolling over with a groan, you answered groggily, “Hello?”

“y/n… it’s me John B. You need to get over to the Chateau. Like now.”

And suddenly you were wide awake. It wasn’t often John B would call you in the middle of the night, but you knew what it meant. Throwing the covers off your body you slipped on a pair of shoes, not bothering to change out of your pjs and rushed out the door.

~

When you arrived at the Chateau, you could hear the yelling from the driveway. You quickly shut off your car and headed inside.

“JJ, dude, calm the fuck down!”

“I can’t calm down. If she’s fucking pregnant, my dad is going to kill me!”

You stopped on the front porch at the sound of JJ’s voice. You hadn’t told anyone about the pregnancy yet. Not even your best friend, Kie.

“How about you talk to her first before freaking out?!”

You heard something crash and decided it was time to walk inside. JJ had knocked everything off the kitchen table and it was scattered around the floor. His face was bloody and bruised with fresh wounds. “JJ?”

His head turned to you and he narrowed his eyes at you, “Are you pregnant?”

You look at John B. “Don’t look at him!” He storms over to you, “Look at me, y/n and answer my question.” JJ angrily yells.

“Y-yes. How did you even know? I haven’t even told anyone!”

He motions to his face, “Well obviously someone blabbered because it got around to my dad. This is because of you.” He points an accusing finger at you, “He beat the shit out of me earlier because he heard I knocked you up!”

Your bottom lip trembles and your eyes fill with tears, “JJ… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

He shakes his head and steps back from you, “You think I can take care of a child, y/n? I can’t even take care of myself. I mean have you seen what I have to live with!”

“I’ll figure it-”

JJ cuts you off, “No. The only thing you’re doing is taking yourself to an abortion clinic and getting.. rid of it.” He motions to your belly before storming out of the Chateau, the door slamming shut behind him.

~

John B decided to head back to bed, but you stayed out on the front porch, waiting for JJ. You knew he’d eventually come back after he calmed down. Your arms wrapped around your stomach thinking about what JJ said. You couldn’t just abort the fetus. You’d already grown attached, thinking about he/she, buying clothes, painting a nursery, raising a baby with JJ. JJ with a baby. Your heart swelled at the thought. The sound of a screen door closing shut, caught your attention.

JJ cleared his throat as he walked over to you, his hands in his pockets. You could see the bruises were already swelling, “Baby you need to put some ice on that..” You said softly, standing and gently inspecting his face, “And the cuts need to be cleaned.”

He only gives a small nod.

“Sit down, I’ll get some ice and the first aid kit.”

He took a seat on the couch as you walked inside and grabbed a bag of ice and the first aid kit. When you came back out, you took a seat across from him on the coffee table, handing him the ice. Then you put a little peroxide on a cloth and begin cleaning the wounds.

He winces at your touch.

“Sorry.” You whisper.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier.” His eyes are glossy with tears, “I don’t want you to abort the baby.”

You gave a small nod, “I know baby.. it’s okay.”

His hand grabs yours, “I want to raise the baby with you. It’s just, I’m scared y/n. What if I fuck up like my dad and the kid is all screwed up in the head? I’ve never had a father figure, I don’t know how to be one.”

You smile softly at him, shaking your head, “JJ Maybank, you are going to be the best father ever. Don’t ever think any differently. I mean the way you are around kids, it’s incredible. I’m amazed by you. You’re so gentle and patient with them. Remember when we were at the beach that day and a little boy had lost his mom? You were the one who jumped into action to help him, not me. You walked that little boy up and down the beach until you found his parents.”

He shrugs, “I was just being a nice guy.”

“But he talked with you, not me. You kept him calm and laughing. I knew right then I wanted you to be the father of my babies.” You gave a small laugh, which caused him to chuckle.

“He did like me more, didn’t he?”

You nod, “He did. You also managed to make him believe you were an undercover superhero? I have no idea how, but that kid listened to every word you said.”

He chuckles, “I’m just that good.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that you will be a great father. You may have never had a father figure, but you know exactly what not to do.”

He nods and gives a small smirk, “So, turns out my pullout game is not as strong as I thought, huh?”

Obx taglist:  @emmalvei-blog , @tregua-oca , @weirdbiwitch , @losers-club6 , @treestarrrrrrrr , @omgwhattheeven , @normatural , @lreincarnationl , @laurenron , @junkiemuppettxx , @beth-winchester21​ @timotaychalabae , @moose-squirrel-asstiel , @tangledinsparkles​ , @prejudic3​ , @lanarichards5 , @divcrdown​ ,

if your name is crossed out, for some reason it won’t let me tag you :(

[ejlovespie]

Knocking On Heaven’s Door

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: EJ (@ejlovespie)

Summary: A car accident leaves the reader in a life or death situation...This was a reader’s request that was inspired by the classic song, “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” 

Pairing:  Dean x reader

Word Count: 2232

Warnings: Angst/Cursing/Near Death Experience/Somewhat Graphic Descriptions of Blood/Fluff 

Reader’s Request: Dean, Sam and the reader get into an accident while driving the impala. Dean and Sam get mildly injured but when dean turns around he finds the reader severely injured since the impact was from her side in the backseat and there is a huge chunk of glass stuck in her side and there is a lot of blood also she's pinned by the door so he has trouble getting her out. I would looove to see a little bit of dean pov. And can u pleaaase make it detailed as much as u can.

A/N: Thank you for the request anon; I hope you like it! This one was really long in the beginning events so I hope the ending doesn’t feel too rushed. Also, I apologize if any of the medical details are incorrect. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and any mistakes are mine. Thank you for reading! :) 

You sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, a rare occurrence since you usually got booted to the back. Sam was stretched out and snoring softly in the backseat as Dean drove, focusing on the road ahead. It was raining and you stared out the side window, counting the raindrops as they slid across the glass, out of view. An old rock ballad, something slow and sad played quietly over the speakers. Your eyes drooped as the music combined with the pitter patter of rain was soothing you into sleep. 

Mama put my guns in the ground

I can't shoot them anymore

You let your eyes close and smiled to yourself when you heard Dean, quietly singing along to the song. His low voice was deep and masculine and you were surprised by the amount of control he held when singing the words. 

That cold black cloud is comin' around

And I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door

Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door

Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door

Drifting to sleep, you thought about how you wished you could hear Dean sing more often.  

Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door

Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door

-

You were shocked awake in your seat when a blaring horn sounded. It was so loud. Whipping your head to the right, bright lights blinded your vision and you screamed as the impala was hit by a large truck and forced off the road. Everything happened so fast. One moment all you could hear was the deafening sounds of glass shattering, tires squealing, and metal tearing then, everything was silent but the sound of rain.

Dazed and disoriented, you felt blood dripping from your forehead down your cheeks. Your hand went to the cut above your brow and you wiped at it, trying to keep blood from dripping into your eyes. You gasped as the movement caused a sharp pain in your side. Looking down your body, you were horrified to find a large shard of glass was lodged in the right side of your abdomen. Although it was dark, you could see your white shirt and jeans were stained in blood and littered with shards of glass. Trying to remain calm and keep your breathing normal, you called out to Sam and Dean. When neither responded, panic gripped your heart and you twisted your neck to find them in the dark. To your left, Dean looked okay at first glance but he was still knocked out cold. You tried to twist further to see Sam but cried out loudly when a piercing pain kept you from moving in your seat. Looking back down, you noticed more blood oozing out of your wound. Keeping your upper body still, you only turned your head as you reached out with your left hand to feel for Dean. He didn’t stir when you squeezed his bicep or his shoulder. 

Becoming more panicked and a bit frustrated, you felt Dean’s face and lightly patted his cheek trying to wake him. You sighed in relief when you felt his head turn towards and you heard his slurred murmuring. Afraid he would lose consciousness again you yelled, “Dean wake up!” Your eyes had adjusted to the dark and you saw Dean’s eyes fly open and fill with panic as he realized what had happened. He whipped around and reached out for Sam who, thankfully, grunted when Dean shook him. Finally, you breathed a sigh of relief knowing the boys were safe but cried out again when the action moved the glass impaling you. Dean whipped back around to face you, to ask what was wrong, when he saw the problem. His face went completely white and his eyes grew wide with fear as he stared at you. You could hear the squeaking of leather as Sam slowly sat up in the back seat. In an alarmed voice, Dean asked, “What’s wrong Y/N?” 

“There’s a piece of glass stuck in my side. You can’t see it because it’s on my right...It hurts to move Dean.” Your voice had started off controlled but it broke at the end. You were scared.

Dean gulped and gritted his teeth before his hands came up to cup your face. They were a little cold but you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. In a gentle but firm voice he said, “You’re going to be okay sweetheart. Just sit tight.” You kept your eyes closed for a moment, not wanting him to see your fear. In the back, Sam cursed as both Winchesters threw their doors open. You heard Dean yelling at Sam to get a flashlight as you looked back to your right. Dean’s face appeared at the window. He had a flashlight in his hand and was moving the beam around as he assessed the situation. Pulling on the door handle a few times did nothing and he cursed before looking at you again.

“Your door got the worst damage Y/N.” He looked slightly to his right before continuing. “It looks like this pickup hit your door before jackknifing to the side. The passenger door is bent to hell. I don’t think I can open it without more tools.” Dean hollered at Sam to check the truck for tools before looking back at you. “It’s going to be fine. We’re gonna get you out of here.” Sam came to the window, shaking his head. The look in his eyes made you think the driver didn't make it and fear gripped you again. Oh God. you thought to yourself. Please don’t let me die like this. You closed your eyes as a tear slipped down your cheek. As Sam stepped away to call 911, Dean was there, reaching through the missing window. Being careful to not cut himself on the left over glass, he wiped your tear away before looking more closely at your wound. You looked down too and realized it had started to bleed more freely, turning your white shirt crimson. There was too much blood. As soon as you acknowledged this, you felt yourself getting light headed. 

Dean cursed violently before turning away from you to yell, “Sam, how long on the ambulance?!”  

Sam rushed over and said, “We’re in the middle of nowhere Dean. They said it could be 20 to 30 minutes.” Dean growled. “We can’t wait that long. She’s bleeding too much. Grab the first aid kit from the trunk and go check the pickup for anything useful.” He tried yanking on the door from the outside a few more times before he reached back through the window to try the inside handle. The door wouldn’t budge. “Okay. Y/N. Look at me sweetheart. I need to get you out but the door is stuck. I am going to pull you out through the driver’s side.” You whimpered, knowing the pain that was coming. You looked to your left as Dean crawled in through the other door. He carefully reached over to unbuckle your seatbelt before grabbing something from Sam. It was a bottle of whiskey and he was unscrewing the cap. Dean placed the neck of the bottle against your lips before tilting it for you to drink. You took a few pulls before he took it away and he screwed the cap back on. He praised you and placed a hand on your cheek before he leaned over you to look at your wound more closely with the flashlight. 

After a moment, Dean leaned back and said, “Okay Y/N. I can’t try to pull you out of the car with that thing in you. I am going to pull it out and you’re going to put pressure on it while I get you out alright?” You nodded and the motion made you lightheaded. You weren’t sure how much help you were going to be soon. Sam leaned into the car and said he was ready with the first aid kit. Dean pulled off his flannel and balled it up before giving it to you. “Use this to put as much pressure on your side as you can. Are you ready?” You weren’t but you whispered a “yes.” Faster than you could blink, Dean had pulled the glass from your side and threw it out the open window. You screamed at the pain and Dean yelled at you to put pressure on as he gently put his arms around you and pulled you from the car. Your head swam and your vision started to go black in the corners of your eyes as you were carried for a few seconds before Dean placed you on the wet ground. You noticed it had stopped raining as something was put behind your head before. 

Your heart was beating too fast and suddenly you felt so cold that your teeth started to shatter. Your brain registered the sound of Sam and Dean’s voices yelling but they sounded too far away. You couldn't make out the words but maybe you were hearing your name? You felt your body going into shock and tears silently ran down your face. You were going to die. You saw flashes of Dean’s fear filled eyes in your vision but you were having trouble focusing on them. Suddenly with perfect clarity, you remembered the lyrics to the song Dean was singing earlier. It was fitting for this moment and you found some peace as you remembered it.

That cold black cloud is comin' around

And I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door

You certainly felt like you were knocking on heaven’s door and you accepted your fate as your eyes closed and everything went black. 

-

Dean’s POV

Dean panicked when all of the color drained from Y/N’s face and she started to shiver as her body went into shock. Icy fear turned Dean’s blood cold when her eyes closed and she didn’t respond to his touch or voice. Tears streamed down his face as he caressed her cheeks and begged her to hold on, to stay with him. Sam had grimly stitched the wound to stop the bleeding but what if they were too late? Leaning over, Dean placed his ear on Y/N’s heart and listened to the slow beat. It was too slow but it was there. In the distance, the faint wailing of the ambulance's siren could finally be made out. Dean moved his ear off of Y/N’s chest and brought his lips to her face. His hands reached up to brush a strand of hair out of her face as he kissed her softly. “Be strong baby. You have to hold on for me. I...I don’t know how to live without you.” 

When the ambulance finally pulled up, the medics loaded Y/N in before letting Dean climb up to ride along to the hospital. He held her hand when he was allowed to and stayed by her side until they reached the hospital and she was rushed to the ER. Hours passed sitting in the waiting room and Dean jumped when his phone rang. Sam had stayed behind to wait for the cops and a tow truck and called with an update. Dean heard the hesitation in his brother’s voice when Sam asked, “How is she doing?” With a deep sigh, he responded that she was still in surgery and he didn’t know anything yet. “I will call you when I hear more.”

It was several more hours before a tired looking doctor came out and asked for Y/N’s family. Dean launched out of his seat as the doc explained that her surgery went well. She explained that the glass shard had pierced some of Y/N’s organs, causing her to lose a lot of blood, but they had been able to fix the damage before it was too late. Relief washed over Dean as the doctor spoke and he asked if he could see her. Seeing the desperation in his eyes, the doctor hesitated before saying yes but that she needed to rest. “It may be awhile before she wakes up.” She warned. It was almost two full days before Y/N woke but Dean was there. He held her hand and kissed her fingers as she opened her beautiful eyes. His heart swelled and he tried not to cry when Y/N looked at him.  

“There she is. Hi sweetheart.”  When she smiled at him it felt like his heart would burst. Even in a hospital bed, she was beautiful. He brought her hand to his mouth again, kissing her until she giggled and said that his stubble was scratching her skin. They smiled at each other for a moment before Y/N started asking questions. What happened? Where’s Sam? Was he okay? When could they go home? Etcetera. She fussed over him, asking if he or Sam had been hurt and her worry for them when she was the one in the hospital bed made him feel...well it made him feel something he had never felt before. He didn’t know what he would he have done if he had lost this woman.  

They talked for a while and Dean filled her in before Y/N’s face became more serious. Looking up at him she said, “Thank you. You and Sam saved my life…” She paused, looking slightly embarrassed before she asked, “Do you mind singing to me? Your voice is...well it’s amazing and it relaxes me. I would love to hear it again but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” The request took Dean aback but he was flattered and she could have asked him for anything in this moment and he would have moved mountains to make it happen. “Of course baby. Do you have any requests?” She contemplated for a moment, looking thoughtful before she answered him by saying, “How about a Guns N’ Roses song?” 

Dean Tags: 

@akshi8278 @wellfuckmyexistence @beabutterfly987

[jay-and-dean]

Yet another thing to celebrate

Dean x reader

Summary (I used the requester’s words) :  Reader’s birthday is on Christmas Eve, which generally sucks because everyone is either skint or celebrating Christmas.

Warnings : Fluffy fluff with a little fluff whipped cream on top. Very implied smut.

Wordcount : 3.6k

Note : This is my fic for @girl-next-door-writes Secret Santa (I reaaally hope you like it lovely, merry Christmas and happy birthday) hosted by @negans-lucille-tblr​ on @spnsecretsantaficexchange​.

I also made my participation to the amazing @acklesterritory​‘s celebration challenge, in the fic, my prompt was “I saw that, you just checked me out”, it’s bold in the fic.

The song refered to is She’s always a woman, by Billie Joel.

The text dividers are from the great @firefly-graphics​

Jay’s Masterlist

          Christmas…

           Before you even open your eyes, you sigh, grabbing the soft pillow in your fist and nuzzling on its softness in a sleepy grunt.

You don’t hate this day, but it often makes you a little sad despite your will to enjoy it fully. It is your birthday. December 24, the busiest day in the country, damn, in the whole West. And even if you are not the kind to want the full attention on you, to be spoiled or anything, you just wish sometimes that, for once, you could have a proper birthday.

           When you were a teen, you more than once even dared dreaming of a party you could throw, but Christmas is about family and basically about everyone. Not you.

           You dream of a little birthday party with friends, some drinks, music, maybe dancing a little... But it would be impossible unless you do it way before or way after, and it wouldn't really be the same...

           This year is different though.

           This winter, even if the celebration of your birth was totally forgotten, you don’t need anything more than what you have now. And what you have is Dean Winchester. Nothing is more important than that, nothing can make you happier.

           In fact, nothing can really make you feel any other way than blessed after this summer. After Dean kissed you on that hunt, after you two had sex in the Impala on your way home ; after later he asked you to stay in his bed for the night that other evening you both ended up naked. And finally, after he asked you to stay in his room for good a few weeks later, and started calling you his girlfriend.

           You smile thinking of waking up next to him and move your feet to find his behind you. But when you don’t, you turn and rub your eyes before opening them.

           Empty. Your shared bed is empty.

“Dean ?” is the first word you say, but the room stays cruelly silent.

Of course… It’s Christmas. He must be busy, like everyone is always on that day… The sting on your heart comes back... You have woken up with the man you love every single morning for the last few months, but not today.

           That is how lame your birthday can be.

           After staying in bed almost one hour, trying to shake that blues off by thinking of how blessed you are, you finally are about to get up and face that stolen day, but the door opens slowly.

           You close your eyes, not really knowing why, maybe just to avoid having to find an explanation for not getting up before if you were awake. The bed moves under Dean’s weight as he crawls on it slowly but you don’t move, even when he clumsily crushes your arm a little while hovering you.

“Happy birthday Baby” he whispers with his coffee breath close to your face. “Have you decided to skip today ? It’s almost noon.”

“Mh…” you hum, lifting your arms to reach his neck, desperate to feel his skin. “Thank you.”

You hesitate a second, wanting to ask him why he got up without you today, why he didn’t wake you with kisses and sweet words like he often does, but you don’t say anything, grateful enough that he got tired of you not being with him and came to get you.

           He lets a part of his weight fall on you, making you huff and laugh softly. His scruff scratches your shoulder, the rough fabric of his jeans is uncomfortable and his belt is digging to your hip but you wouldn't change a thing.

           Your hand goes to his neck and massages it softly, he hums, and you feel his body softly relax. You always know just how to calm him, how to make him fall back asleep after a nightmare, how to make his muscles calm after the roughest hunts. But after less than a minute, he grunts, sitting up.

"No, no" he shakes his head. "You're not making me skip that day with you ! Get up Baby."

He grabs your shoulders and playfully shake them, not realizing that even his kidding strength is huge.

"Geeet uuuup" he chuckles when your whole body is shaken and your laugh sounds funny because of it.

           The warm water runs along your hair and down your spine, and a soft steam fills the bathroom. For sure, that was a great late breakfast, with pancakes Dean had made for you, and his little stolen kisses.

           He is really making this day better.

           Maybe you can forget about your birthday now, and just enjoy Christmas like a normal person. You are loved, and you are happy, you don't need anything else.

           Washing your hair, you smile thinking of the tree the boys have bought, so big that they struggled to carry it up the stairs. You chuckle at thinking of Dean grumbling about the thorns covering Baby's seats. They even bought bags mysterious decorations and fairy lights they never let you see. The library now smells like Christmas tree.

           We're celebrating this year, Dean said. And in the years you have known the Winchesters, you indeed never saw them put so much effort in a holiday.

           A lot of things keep surprising you.

           Sam once told you that his brother had changed a lot since he was with you, making you worry more than anything else. You never wanted Dean to change, you love Dean just the way he is... Then you understood what Sammy was saying...

           You understood in the little things. Like Dean's new love for late mornings in bed, like him drinking a little less, being a little less reckless during hunts, humming in the shower, letting go more in bed, allowing himself to give up the constant control he has on himself... And in his will to celebrate Christmas. Dean is not different, he is just happier.

           Your eyes get a little wet with joy at the thought while your rub your body with the delicious smelling foam.

           Forget your birthday, if Dean's happiness demands this day to be the Christmas he didn't have as a kid, the Christmas he is finally allowing himself to want, then you are honored to help him make it perfect.

           You step out of the shower and your eyes meet the big mirror. In the middle of it, written with a big finger on the thick steam : "I love you Y/n".

           Your choice is made : This will be Christmas. This will be anything to make that man as lucky as you are.

"How can I help ?" you say, entering the kitchen where Dean is apparently trying to make cookies, wearing this apron he only puts on for great occasions.

"I'm making cookies men like in Shrek" he says pointing to the not-so-bad gingerbread biscuits he already cooked with his finger covered in dough.

           You come behind him and wrap your arms around his middle, forehead on his back, just feeling his breathing for a second. Dean doesn't stop what he is doing because he is used to you tenderly and randomly holding him, his clean fingers only come to gently caress your arm for a second before he shapes another cookie, chuckling when he adds a tiny penis to the little guy.

"I love you too" you murmur, nose grazing his back to bath in his smell.

He hums.

"We will eat dinner pretty early, I hope you're hungry" he says, looking at his watch. "I want to enjoy some time with my girl after."

You smile, getting on your tiptoes to kiss the uncovered skin of his neck above the collar of his flannel. He wants a lazy evening, making love like you do, or maybe try a kinky thing ; what is sure is you will gladly give him what he wants.

           Time goes by sweetly as you watch this deadly warrior check the turkey while his equally legendary warrior brother prepares another round of eggnog for the three of you. They move around like busy bees in the room and it's a perfect show.

           You sit on the counter, talking about silly things, sometimes doing something to help, when your boyfriend lets you. You keep sipping from the sugary drink, and watching the beauty of Dean just be before your eyes. Unaware of how perfect he is in his every moves, he just works with his strong arms and skilled hands.

           Your eyes linger a little along his thick thighs, and you bend your head to the side to enjoy the exquisite sight of the sensual curve of his butt.

"I saw that, you just checked me out" he says in a smile without even turning around.

"And ?" you let out in a chuckle. "What are you going to do about that ?"

At your surprise, he starts to rock his hips from right to left slowly in clumsy funny moves of his butt, like he wanted to sexy dance for you without stopping what he is doing, earning an eye roll from his brother when his hip hits him on his way.

           Christmas is already perfect.

           The table is beautiful. Different courses in pretty plates you didn't know the guys had filling it like you have only seen in the movies. There is way too much food for three people but you are so happy that your beloved Winchester can eat like they want for Christmas eve.

           Everything is pretty, the giant messy tree has real bright decorations on it and there are even a few presents at its feet, wrapped messily in colorful papers.

           But their most impressive work is the light in the room, changing the place completely. Almost none of the artificial lights of the bunker is on, and a subdued ambiance with fairy lights and candles make it look even more magical than it usually is.

"When did you find the time to do all that ?" you smile with unintended wetness in your enthralled eyes. "It looks... enchanted in here."

"You stayed in bed until noon" Dean says in a light chuckle, pulling a chair for you and putting a kiss on your cheek. "Merry Christmas baby."

"It's perfect, Deanie" you turn your head so his next kiss lands on the corner of your mouth. "Merry Christmas guys."

Sam sits, rubbing his hands at the sight of the turkey, and starts reminding his brother of an old memory of a past Christmas you listen with all your focus. Everything that can make you know more about their life always catches your full attention. You are, after all, their biggest fan.

           The story is about a Christmas when Dean was a teen. He had spent the night between 23th and 24th December with a girl and was really late to come back to the motel. Sam thought maybe he wouldn't be back for diner, he had already taken the cereals out of the closet when Dean showed up carrying the whole cooked Turkey he had stolen from the girl's parents.

           You look at your boyfriend with all the love in the world and bend to give him a kiss on the forearm while he cuts a piece of this not stolen meat for you.

"Her parents were dicks, and I couldn't let you starve, dad would have killed me" Dean chuckles, filling your plate.

           But you know the story must be really different from just that, Dean never brags about how great he was with Sam.

           You let out a little moan, tasting the food and Dean’s face is lit by a wide proud grin.

“It’s good ?” he asks before he even tastes, an excited hope in his eyes.

“Delischious” you answer with your mouth full, a hand before it.

           And indeed, everything is perfect. Dean, as much as Sam can playfully denies it, is a great cook. He has no technique, no cooking education, but what he has is a real love for food and comfort, a great experience on mixing things and tasting that gives him a perfect intuition. And, above all, the strong selfless will of saying "I love you" with food like some people have.

           Sitting on the floor next to the tree, you hold against you the red flannel Dean finally agreed to give you, and the books Sam bought for you. Your head is leaning lovingly on your lover's shoulder while he looks, exited, at the vinyl records he got, humming his favorite songs.

           You crawl between his thighs and rest your back on his chest, your head back, temple grazing his scruff.

"Best Christmas ever" you smile, feeling his lips graze your cheek. "So what is the program of a Winchester Christmas after that ?"

You close your eyelid and take a deep breath of Dean's scent, expecting a sexy proposition.

"We're going somewhere" he smiles, and, when you open your eyes, you see Sam put on his coat.

"Now ?" you frown, a little confused. "Where ?"

Dean gets up, putting you on your feet with his strong arm, and takes his coat and yours from Sam's hands.

"I'm not telling you. Take your jacket and get in the car."

           He is silent on the road despite all your questions.

           You listen to the car's purring and look outside to try to guess where they are taking you. The white snow covers the sides of the road with a very thin and delicate layer, the headlights are hit with little swirling snowflakes, and no clue betrays their surprise.

           Sam is smiling, looking out the window. You know they have been planning something, and you know you will love it. Maybe they will show you a place they used to go when they were kids, maybe take you to a special place where you can see the stars so clearly, like this time last summer.

"Come on Dean" you say, kneeling on Baby's back seat to wrap your arms around him from behind, going down a little to feel his firm chest though his shirt under your palms. "Tell me."

"You can't wait just five minutes" he tries to grunt, but it sounds more like a chuckle.

           You fall silent, not letting go of him, holding him like the precious treasure he is, occasionally smelling his hair, kissing his shoulder and tracing the contours of his ear. You just can't stop touching him, and since that talk you had after sex once, you know how much he loves it.

"Aw" Sam mocks you like he often does. "You two are so cute."

"Fuck yeah we are" Dean groans, turning right to a one way road.

"You know Christmas is already perfect" you smile. "You don't have to surprise me again."

"Yeah, I know" he says, parking in front of a bar. "But, it's not only Christmas today."

           You look around, confused. The guys open the door, letting the freezing cold enter the Impala, and get out in a perfect sync. You follow them, lifting your eyes to the colorful neon lights reflecting in the snowy night. Around on the parking lot, more cars than you would have expected are parked, and you wonder who would spend Christmas eve in a bar like this one.

           But before you can wonder why they would have taken you there, to this bar you never heard off, your boyfriend's hand wraps around your waist and he guides you inside, pushing the heavy doors.

           The first thing that hits you is the perfect warmth of the inside. The temperature is perfect but not only : the music is smooth like honey, it's this kind of blues that is paradoxically happy and comforting, it smells like wood and whiskey ; and above all, here too, there is something about the light that feels like a hug.

           The second thing that hits you is the welcoming familiar face of Garth smiling to you.

"Garth ?" you frown and feel Dean's lips graze your ear. "Happy birthday Baby."

He lets go of you to walk to the people there at the bar, arms open to greet them, letting you stunned.

           You are recognizing all you friends there, still in their Christmas clothes, walking to you to hug you and bring you drinks and for a few seconds, your body just stays still.

           No one is missing, not one person. And, even if you don't have hundreds of friends since you joined the hunter life, you have never seen a room so full of love.

"Let me take your coat" Jody says, seeing you froze to the spot.

"I... You're here for me ? Th-they planned all that ?" you stammer with some watery emotions filling your eyes.

"Dean did" Jody smiles. "We followed."

             You're sipping from that delicious drink the bartender made according to your tastes, unable to take that smile off of your face. Donna, a little tipsy in her pretty outfit, is telling sexy jokes with a full dimpled smile, making Sam chuckle and Charlie high-five her, spilling a little of her drink on you.

           From the corner of your eye, you look at him.

           He is bending on the pool table with a smirk, his beer next to him. From here, you can't hear what he is saying to the other players, but it seems a little cocky. After only a few seconds staring at him, it's like he felt it and he looks up, giving you the cutest wink.

           And you blush. Because even after all you have lived together, even after the kinky experiences, the intimate moments, after seeing him cry, yell, suffer or come... A wink is still enough to turn you to a blushing mess.

           All evening, he has been keeping his distance just a little. Not avoiding you at all but not clinging to you, to let you enjoy your friends, to let you have the full experience of a birthday party like you dreamed of since you were a teen.

           A birthday with loud silly discussions, a lot of drinks, inventing silly tipsy games with your best friends, trading your clothes in the bathroom, catching up as much as dancing with each other... And you never felt loved that much.

           Dean's love is the sun in the middle of your world, but now you can also see the stars, and it is probably the best night of your life so far.

           He managed to do something you never could for years and all your friends agreed with his crazy plan. They all had an early Christmas diner to be able to drive here, offer you too many drinks and be there for you. They all made it about you and you're both incredibly grateful and emotional. And since most of them will come sleep at the bunker -and eat all the leftovers with you tomorrow- you don't have to care about the time.

           Suddenly, a music note catches your ear.

           You know that note by heart. It is the first note of your favorite love song, it is the firsts notes of what Dean hums in your ear sometimes when he holds you after making love to you, pushing your hair on the side to see your sweaty bliss face.

           You turn you head and meet green eyes, closer than you expected.

"Hey" he says, taking your hand.

"Hey" you smile.

He tugs gently at your arm, pulling you away from the bar to wrap his arms around your waist.

           You have missed him. Of course he was here, but after everything he has done for you, you really have missed holding him, smelling his skin and kissing his lips.

           He starts to sway his hips really slightly, humming the love words of the song, and you throw your arms around his neck, looking up at his perfect face.

"She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes..." he whispers the lyrics, fingers grazing the skin of your neck.

And for the hundredth time today, your eyes fill with happy tears while his fingertips go down on your back to hold your waist again.

"Are you having fun ?" he asks low, one hand stroking your lower back tenderly, thumb pushing your shirt up discreetly to feel your skin.

"It's the best night of my life" you give him your most sincere smile. "Dean... You are really incredible, you know that ?"

"Yeah" he nods, hiding his shyness in a kiss on your lips.

"I really was ready to chose Christmas, you know ?" you state, swaying your hips slowly with him, forgetting the rest of the world in your bubble of love.

His plumb lips gently raise on the corner, and he lets go of you to search his pocket.

"I didn't have to choose between hunter life and happy life thanks to you, so I'll make sure you never have to choose between your birthday and Christmas" he murmurs in your ear, before kissing your temple.

His hand reach yours and he opens it to put a little thing on your palm.

"What do you say we had yet another thing to celebrate on that day ?" his breath tickles  your neck and you look down to your hand, discovering a little golden ring with a tiny blue stone in the middle of your shaking palm.

"Dean ?"

"Marry me Baby ?"

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