#i turn everything into spn

[notdeadyetnatural]

Guys I have so much scheduled for tomorrow. Like I have some actual 2021 wedding uquizes in the queue that's how far back in my tags I went

[mlobsters]

thought you know, i should maybe try to start up the spn rewatch because it's been a hot minute. but i have 1x18 (the shtriga) up next and you know this would lead to a rant about john winchester and i don't know i have the mental or emotional energy for that -_-

[batcavescolony]

S4 E3 Supernatural

Now THIS is a good episode. Castiel took Dean back in time to 1973! We find out Sam and Dean's maternal grandparents, Samuel and Deanna Campbell, and Mary are hunters. On top of that, Azazel is playing match maker so he can have his little psychic children be the best of the best, and he made a deal with Mary to revive John after he killed him. Also as if Azazel hasn't killed enough of Sam & Dean's family they killed Samuel and Deanna too. Oh this is so interesting, then Castiel taking Dean back, saying destiny can't be changed but Sam is going down a dark path and either Dean stops him or angels do.

[femslashspuffy]

I could never be I saw the tv glow'd with supernatural in 10-20 years because I will always remember how terrible and great supernatural is and I will never probably break out of the timeloop of constantly rewatching the show and becoming insane every time

[quietwingsinthesky]

also when it comes to millie and sam what u simply must understand is that sam is pro-millie having a choice in things, sam is happy to be on millie’s side and listen to her contributions and pull her into the conversation. because he does really, truly believe that millie should get a choice in whatever they’re doing, or whatever she’s doing.

just. you know. up to the point where she’s doing something Bad/Wrong/Dangerous. and then he needs to find a way to Save Her From Hurting Herself. millie gets to choose what happens right until sam stops seeing her and starts seeing himself, and then she’s not allowed to make mistakes. like he did. for her own good.

[katabay]

Do you have specific fiction authors that you like to read? What aspects of a story make you want to really dig your fingers in it? Is it horror?

I’ve got a couple! Keigo Higashino for sure. anything Naoki Urasawa does: I will be reading it. Priest (Guardian and Mo Du are all time favorites). also KJ Charles and Andrew A Smith!

ngl I don’t really have a concrete list of favorite fiction writers, I spent several days thinking about this one: like, I have favorite books for sure, but I don’t often find myself considering an author to be a favorite just because their book blew my mind. I’ve only read three of Andrew A Smith’s works, but he’s here because he gave an interview years that changed my entire approach to storytelling, and I still revisit it whenever I start editing a story.

honestly the big thing is that I like character!! I like compelling characters (extremely varied definition of compelling, it doesn’t have to be much, but it does have to have something) I like it when something goes full throttle into whatever it wants to be. I’ll watch a slow paced slice of life romance with the same amount of enthusiasm that I had for Devil Judge, and the 1vs10 beat down in Ipman takes up just as much space in my brain as the ‘let’s not see each other from now on,’ breakup in the Heirs (but for extremely different reasons lmao)

however. if I have to pick something more thematically specific: I like seeing people in power get what they have coming to them, I like explorations and confrontations of political and social injustices. kingdom is one of my favorite shows, and the horror is great, but it was the political-class-power aspect of it that solidified it as a memorable watch to me. kamen rider build did something fundamental to the circuitry of my brain. etc.

[vivitalks]

i'm thinking john winchester thoughts tonight is it obvious

[persefoneshalott]

One of Dean's most frustrating trait for me is that he's against immortality and has these idea of what's 'natural' 'what's dead should be dead' etc (sam excluded ofc) This is why while he'll go and sacrifice himself to save Sam he'd never be like 'oh hey if we do this spell, dead Sam can come back and live in my brain and both our spirits can live in the same body' or some freaky shit like that, if he ever ran into something like that and thought it was the only option to save Sam he'd just book it out of his own body so that Sam can have it. whereas Sam would be like fuck yeah this is a great first step before I find a better way to get him back and as we know from canon would be willing to have innocent people die so Dean can stay alive

[skylilac]

how much of spn have you seen

almost on the seventh season and i. already read the wiki pages.

[sammygender]

but tbh even when i was a deangirl like 90% of deans appeal was that undercurrent of resentment and damage he has. how hes so damaged by his childhood but so unwilling to begin to heal because it would mean rejecting every brick he's built himself from - hes modelled himself on john, or how he imagined john to be (bc i actually truly think dean is and becomes way more macho and posturing than john ever was! and theres something to be said of how all his imitations of john are aesthetic, his jacket and his music and the beer he drinks, and how john was gone so Often, how we never see him in the flashback episodes save once (ofc doylist explanation is bc they didnt want to get the actor but).... the absence of a father ruling their life more than a father...).

and obviously that is going to lead to someone who cant Get Better or Break The Cycle cause he wed himself to it when he was 4 and has grown entwined with it and how is he meant to Really confront that? sure he can say 'my father was an obsessed bastard' or hurtle insults that sam's like john as a way to get under sam's skin and realise that he has #daddyissues but he'll always return back to the steady belief that john still tried his best and was still fundamentally good. like. family is hell. and dean's whole thing is and has always been the family.

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Was feeling like crap from lying in bed all day going on my phone, not eating and feeling stressed because I’ve moved into a new place but then I got dressed, went for a walk, made breakfast and lunch while reading a book and brought a kitchen chair in so I can sit at my desk before I buy a proper desk chair and I already feel a million times better

[greghatecrimes]

house m.d., 4x15

supernatural / the creation of adam / house m.d.

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[dewwinchester]

stitches | d.w.

synopsis: dean texts you for help, and you drop everything for him.

requested by: @dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy

pairing: pre-series!dean winchester x reader

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: fluff, some angst, john winchester, blood, wounds/injury, stitching up wounds, typical spn series warnings. no use of y/n, no pronouns used!

a/n: if john winchester has no haters, i'm dead <33 also, it's currently 12am, so if the editing is a little wonky, pls forgive me

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as you navigated through the torrential downpour hammering down around you and your car. The rain was relentless, blinding you as it pounded against the windshield. The smell of wet asphalt filled your car as the tires slipped on the rain-soaked road. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears – a mixture of adrenaline from trying to avoid a horrific car wreck and anxiety from the message still illuminating your car in a dim light.

I need your help.

It wasn’t a message you were expecting. Normally, in your line of work, pleas for help came in the form of a frantic phone call or a scream in the dark. They never came in the form of a random text message.

And they never came from Dean Winchester.

You were having a relatively normal night, working a case and staking out a couple of vamps, when your phone buzzed with several messages from Dean. First, he asked if you were busy. Then, he asked if you were nearby. Moments later, he sent you an address to a motel. Then, came the message that caused you to leave the stakeout completely and go frantically speeding down the road.

Your tires screeched as you rounded a corner. The neon light of the motel soon appeared ahead, its reflection dancing across the many puddles on the asphalt. You pulled into the first parking spot you saw and stepped out of your car. The rain immediately soaked you to the bone, wetting your hair and your clothes, sending a chill through you, but you couldn't find yourself caring as your eyes scanned for Dean's room number.

The motel was rather seedy-looking – more so than normal. The wooden palings were splitting, and the paint was chipping off the trimmings and walls. There wasn't any other car in sight. You wondered just how bad things were if Dean had found himself in a place like this.

Once you found his room, you practically ran over to the door and threw it open, not bothering to knock. Your eyes immediately landed on Dean, who sat on the edge of one of the beds, his back to you. A wave of relief washed over you – he was alive – but the sight of his tense shoulders and the untouched beer bottle in his hand kept your anxiety simmering.

You closed the door behind you and took off your saturated jacket, leaving it next to Dean's leather one.

"Hey," you said with a sigh, "You okay?"

Dean responded with a curt nod but said nothing more. You stepped closer to him and placed your hand gently on his shoulder. He flinched at the touch, and you felt a pang in your chest. When you finally got close enough, you quickly scanned his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual, and his normally sharp gaze was clouded with exhaustion. HIs hair was wet and spiky, and his lip trembled from the cold.

Your eyes continued to trail down to his side, where his shirt clung to his skin, dark and wet with blood. Three jagged and deep gashes spread across Dean's side. His shirt was torn.

Your eyes widened as panic once again surged through you. You frantically looked around for anything you could use to stop the bleeding. You grabbed the first towel you could get your hands on and pressed it to his side, grimacing when Dean winced in pain.

"Jesus, Dean. What the hell happened?"

"Werewolf," he gritted out.

"I think you're gonna need stitches."

There was no first aid kit in sight, so your mind began running through alternatives. You could go to the front desk and ask if there were any supplies, but asking for anything more than a simple band-aid would cause suspicion, and the last thing you needed was someone knocking on the door asking too many questions.

You could use dental floss. You had known plenty of hunters that used it in the past and not had a problem, but you weren't sure there were any needles…

"There's a sewing kit in the bathroom."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "You read my mind."

“One of my many talents.” 

----

Needle, thread, dental floss, tissues, water. You looked over the supplies in front of you, mind racing at a million miles an hour. Despite being a hunter yourself, you weren’t exactly a natural when it came to stitching wounds and performing first aid. In fact, the sight of too much blood caused your head to throb and your legs to go numb.

Dean had already taken off his shirt, leaving you to see the full extent of his injuries. The gashes started at the top of his ribs and curled around to his left shoulder blade. Blood continued to trail down his back, causing your mouth to go dry. Pins and needles tingled your toes, and the room began to spin…

You shook off your thoughts and shifted your weight between your two feet, hoping to get some blood flow back there. You put your thoughts and discomfort behind you and prepared to begin. 

“This isn’t gonna feel great,” you said, trying to control the shake in your voice. 

“Not my first time,” he replied. 

You grabbed the needle and thread, and – with shaky hands – tried your best to thread the cotton through the eye. You sat behind him, deciding to start around his shoulder. With a damp cloth, you tried your best to clean around the area, whispering apologies whenever Dean flinched. 

“What happened?” you asked quietly, using your gentlest touch to guide the needle through. 

“I told you,” he said through gritted teeth, “werewolf.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” you trailed off. “Where’s your dad?” 

Dean clenched his jaw, and you immediately knew you had touched on a rough subject. Throughout the time that you had known Dean, you had learnt his relationship with his father was far from healthy. John Winchester was not your favourite person in the world. In fact, you and Dean had gotten into plenty of arguments about him in the past. 

“He’s not here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, continuing your stitching. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Do we have to do this–?”

“--Yes.”

Dean sighed, scrubbing his hand down his face. The anger and tension radiating off him was palpable, his shoulders were tense and his breathing was heavy. You finished stitching the first gash, and tied the thread off with a neat little knot. Instead of immediately moving on to the next one, you moved around and knelt in front of Dean so you were eye level. You placed a hand on his right knee and traced gentle circles into his skin with your thumb. You raised your eyebrows, sending him a look that was simultaneously stern and empathetic.

You just wanted to know he was okay.

“We’d been stakin’ out the thing for weeks,” Dean began. “We finally pinpointed it to this boathouse. Dad was sure that it was in there, so he sent me in first to sweep the area.”

“And…?”

“Turns out it was a lot smarter than we thought,” Dean said, a dejected smile on his lips. “It was waitin’ there for us. Dad knew, but I didn’t.” 

“Then why did he send you in there?”

Dean shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. But the thing had me on the ground before I even realized what was goin’ on. Put it’s claws in me and ran.”

You shuddered. 

“Dad didn’t stay,” Dean continued. “The second he realised it jumped ship, he went too. Left me with my phone and wallet… I walked here.” 

“What?” 

If Dean’s anger was palpable, you were damn-near irate. You pressed your lips together, trying to control yourself from spewing all sorts of profanities. If you had it your way, you would have marched your way up to John Winchester and given him what for. You would have knocked his lights out if Dean had let you. 

You stood and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes.

"He – you? God!"

"Alright hot-head, calm down."

"No, I will not calm down!" You spun on your heel, turning to face him again. "Your own father left you for dead!"

"He's done worse."

You laughed bitterly. "That doesn't surprise me."

"Alright," Dean sighed, raising a hand to stop your tirade. "I'm okay! I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Oh yeah, you're the pinnacle of okay."

"Your sarcasm isn't helping."

You shook your head. Angry tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you were too stubborn to let them fall.

"I just wish you would understand that you deserve better," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You could leave his ass behind any time you like -"

"Oh yeah? And then what?"

You paused, and looked down to your feet. 

"You could come with me?" 

For half a second, Dean smiled. “You and I would kill each other in half an hour.” 

He was right – but you’d never let him admit it. 

“Why’d you text me then?” You asked. “If we’re just gonna kill one another–”

Dean shot you a pointed look. 

“– I’m serious.” You said. 

Dean stood up with a groan and walked over to you. You stood with your arms crossed, a slight frown creasing your brow. Nothing could be heard but the rain that battered against the windows and the thundering of your own heartbeat in your ears. 

Dean tucked a strand of your wet hair behind your ear, “You’re the first one I thought of… The only one I wanted here.”��

A blush crept onto your cheeks and you shook your head fondly. “You’re fantastic at changing the subject.” 

Dean winked, but his smooth-talking was soon replaced by a painful scowl. 

“Let’s finish this up later, shall we? I’d rather not bleed to death.” 

You helped Dean back to the bed and prepared to finish stitching him up. You knew this was far from over – with Dean, it never was – but for now, you would focus on the rain that pattered against the roof and the relief that Dean was with you, safe. 

[ultravi0lence14]

Salt & Burn

dean winchester x fem!reader

837 | hurt/comfort, spn level violence

summary: after what you assumed to be a simple salt and burn goes completely sideways, dean is there to help you with not only your physical wounds, but your mental.

*based on this request

a hiss of pain breathed from your lips, eyes slightly watering as dean’s hands made repetitive motions of the thread and needle in your skin.

what seemed to be a simple ghost hunt turned into a full moon. which then turned into a werewolf prowling the land of the cemetery. dean had put a silver bullet in it’s head, but not before it had dug it’s long and grotesque talons into the flesh of your back.

no visit to the hospital was needed, but the excruciating pain as dean hauled you from the muddy ground to the impala was something you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. all you could recall was the feeling of a thousand knives in your back and the sound dean’s voice saying, “you’re alright. you’ll be just fine sweetheart.” coming out in murmured jumbles like you were underwater.

now, as you sat cross legged on the sink of the motel bathroom, you really cursed the moon and what it did to some people every month. you were facing the mirror, watching dean in the glassy reflection as he concentrated so heavily on the sutures you were sure his hand was going to cramp up.

you hadn’t spoken since you came back, and dean was starting to get worried. your face was passive, looking into the bathroom mirror like you could look through yourself. the look in your eyes had dean worried. you seemed like a shell of yourself. not that he blamed you, the werewolf attack was pretty gruesome.

the sensation of the thread being tied of jolted you out of the revere you were in. dean’s concern grew larger when you didn’t move a muscle as he suggested maybe ordering your favourite food and staying in. the physical wound on your skin was healed, but now dean needed to help mend the mental scar the werewolf left on your soul.

softly grabbing your arm and helping you down from the counter, the small whisper of dean’s breath on your ear murmuring ‘come here’ brought you out of whatever fog clouded your brain. your muscles were limp and lifeless as the man pulled you toward the motel bed. He could see to toll of the werewolf’s scratch on your face, and all dean wanted to do was make it better.

the plush yet dull comforter on the creaky mattress brought a semblance of comfort to your aching bones. dean sitting down beside you had the mattress dipping, a firm yet comforting hand being placed on your back and moved in comforting circles.

“everything is going to be okay.” he whispered, hands moving so his fingers were tangled in your hair. “you’re alive, you’re safe, and that’s all that matters.”

a whimper tore from your lips at the thought. you were safe, but at what cost? head turning into dean’s chest, tears fell down your eyes as a sob racked through your body. “oh sweetheart.” dean murmured in the crown of your head, arms resting around your frame and hugging you close to his body. “it’s okay. i’m here, baby no one is going to hurt you.”

“i’m so scared.” you cried out, tears stains littering your cheeks as they kept flowing down your face. “i thought i was going to die. it hurt so bad dean, i didn’t know if i was able to hold on any longer.” your words left a piercing gape in dean’s heart. the thought of you dying broke him into pieces. even the thought of you believing you weren’t going to make it hurt his heart.

placing a delicate kiss on the crown of your head, dean felt his own tears fall down his cheeks. “but you made it. you were so brave honey. you held on for me, sam, and yourself.” the sobs had halted a little, but dean could still feel the tears falling onto his shirt. “you are so much stronger than you let yourself believe.”

“i could’ve got you and sam killed.” you said, looking up at dean through tear stained eyes. he hated himself for thinking such a thing at this moment, but dean couldn’t help but stare at your coloured eyes behind the glass like shield of tears. you looked so beautiful, and he couldn’t help but wipe away a tear that fell from your eye.

“but you didn’t.” he reassured, pulling you down so you both were laying on the mattress. side by side, he grabbed your hand and held on tight as you cuddled into his side. “sam and i are okay. you’re okay. no one expected that to happen. all that matters is you getting some rest.”

you weren’t tired, yet the motions of everything you’d been through in one night made sleep cling to you like a vice. with your head delicately placed over dean’s heartbeat, you fell asleep with the rhythmic thump of his heart as white noise.

“i love you.” dean whispered in your ear as you peacefully slept. “i hope you know that.”

[misswynters]

Seaside

Addam Velaryon x Targaryen Princess!reader

[note | my very first drabble for the handsome valeryon bastard! nothing of the reader’s appearance is specified :3

[a/n: this was not planned and was out of a spur of the moment kinda thing <3

The night sky was clear, dotted with stars that shimmered like diamonds on black velvet. The salty breeze from the sea wafted through the open windows of the Dragonstone balcony, carrying the faint sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below. You stood there, wrapped in a fur-lined cloak, gazing out at the horizon where the sea met the sky. The cool air nipped at your cheeks, but you found comfort in the tranquility of the night.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you close. You leaned back, melting into the familiar warmth of Addam Velaryon. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his silver hair tickling your neck.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked softly, his breath warm against your ear.

You sighed, shaking your head. "Just needed some fresh air. Dragonstone, the handmaidens, the lectures, everything feels so stifling to me sometimes."

Addam chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back. "I know what you mean. It can be quite... unbearable."

You turned in his arms, looking up into his eyes. They were the color of the sea, deep and full of secrets. "But it has its moments," you said, a smile playing on your lips.

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Especially when shared with you, my princess."

Your heart swelled at his words. Being a Targaryen princess often meant a life of duty and expectations, but with Addam, you felt truly seen and cherished. He had a way of grounding you, of making the burdens you carried feel lighter.

"Let's take a walk," he suggested, taking your hand. "There's something I want to show you."

You followed him down the winding staircase and through the moonlit gardens of the castle. The flowers seemed to glow under the soft light, their petals glistening with dew. Addam led you to a secluded spot overlooking the sea, where a small picnic was laid out, complete with a blanket and lanterns casting a warm glow.

"What's all this?" you asked, your eyes wide with surprise.

"I thought you might like a change of scenery," he said with a grin. "And I know how much you love the sea."

You settled down on the blanket, pulling him down beside you. The two of you sat there, sharing stories and laughter, the world outside fading away. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the night and the warmth of Addam's love, you felt truly at peace.

As the night wore on, you rested your head on his shoulder, your eyes growing heavy. Addam wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. "Sleep, my love," he whispered. "I'll keep watch."

With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes, knowing that as long as you had Addam by your side, everything would be alright.

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