Request: Lessons

Request: Request!!! Can you do a deanxreader where they have one or two little boys and dean is trying to teach them about the impala and rock music? Thanks!

Word Count: 906

Here it is, I really hope you like it. Thanks<3

Dean disappeared with the boys a little over an hour ago, saying that ‘we have something important to do’.

You have no idea what he’s up to.

Your two little boys, Matt, who’s six, and Olly, who’s two, are total daddy’s boys. You can barely get a word in edgewise. You don’t mind, though. It’s adorable. The past six years have been nigh on perfect.

No hunting. No worries about that. You’re just a family and you have a little house on a pretty estate and you have a literal white picket fence (for the same of symbolism) and your two little boys and you got married just after Matt was born, having recently passed the five-year anniversary. Sam stops by most days, but he’s doing his own thing now.

It all passed. You’re free. There hasn’t been so much as a lick of anything demonic or angelic (minus Cas’ intermittent visits) or monster-y. Nothing.

(You have suspicions that some old hunting buddies have an agreement to shield you from this kind of thing.)

After a while, you give up and head out to the garage. The garage is one of your favourite places- it just looks so normal. Before, garages were for weapons and tools for extinguishing evil. Now, there are DIY tools and spare car parts and it smells like home.

“Come on, you gotta listen.” You hear from inside the car, “This is important, okay?”

“Kay, daddy!” You hear Matt say. Oh, the car lesson.

“This car, it’s gonna be yours one day. Don’t get too excited, it’s a long time away. But one day…” Dean promises. They’re all sat in the front seats, Matt ‘driving’ and Olly on Dean’s lap, sitting shotgun. You can hear the dulcet tones or AC/DC floating from the speakers, instantly transporting you back to old times, back to overnight drives, back to week long road trips.

It’s a fond sort of familiarity.

You open the door and slide into the back seat. There’s two cries of, ‘Mommy!’ to which you laugh, waving your greeting.

“Hello, beautiful. Come to join the party?” Dean asks, leaning back at kiss your cheek. You laugh.

“How could I miss it?”

“Alright. So, mommy can tell you this is true. Daddy’s tapes are the best, okay?”

“It’s true.” You nod, grinning.

Dean picks up the box of tapes, holding it out and letting the boys look inside.

“Every single song in there is legendary. By the time you’re thirteen, you will know every word, or I’ll be forced to disown you.”

“Dean!” You scold, rolling your eyes. Neither child understands, however, and they both just giggle at your reaction.

“But really, it’s important to your education, alright? This car, too. My dad drove this car. It’s my baby.”

“He loves the car more than he loves me.” You remark. Olly looks at you quizzically, and you all laugh.

“That is not true. There’s all of these little things, you see, that make it ours. Like, listen.” He flicks a switch and the heating kicks in, with it coming the rattling of the Lego pieces. “I’ll show you these one day. And in the back,” Dean passes Olly over the seat and Matt clambers over. Dean leans over the seat.

“See those?” He points to the initials carved into the panel, “Your Uncle Sammy and I did those, lots of years ago. Before I knew mommy.”

They gasp, then giggle.

“Of course, there’s the army man.” Dean adds, pointing to the ash tray, “He’s been here since your Uncle Sammy put him there, ooh, thirty years ago?”

“’Sa long time.” Matt offers, and Dean nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. But you know what the most important thing is about all of this?”

“What?”

“It’s the memories. We did a lot of driving in here, over the years. But we remember it all. See, this car? You mommy and me had some-“

“Nope!” You interrupt, shoving his shoulder good-naturedly. “That isn’t happening. Story for…uh… never.”

“Awwwww.” The boys groan in unison„ definitely not understanding.

“I’m just telling them where they came into existence.”

“Don’t.” You raise an eyebrow, then you both burst into giggles. “Come on, I bet that pie’s cool enough to eat by now.”

“Pie?” All three ask in unison, and there’s a sudden scramble of activity as the boys make a run for the doors. You laugh, letting them make a run for the house.

“Don’t touch anything!” You call after them, to a chorus of, ‘okay, mommy’.

You and Dean step out of the car, and almost instantly, he pulls you close to him.

“You’re so good with them.” You smile, and he laughs.

“So are you. I didn’t think we’d make such good parents.” He remarks.

“I knew you would.”

“You know everything, be quiet.” He says affectionately, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re so  perfect. Beautiful, clever, an amazing mom, and you make me pie. How the hell did I get so lucky?”

“You tell me.” You grin, going up on tiptoes and pressing your lips to his.

After a moment, you hear an incredibly disgusted ‘EWWWWW’ and turn to see the Matt covering Olly’s eyes, looking incredibly grossed out.

“Mommy, daddy, that’s nasty.” Olly says.

“Mommy, please come get pie?” Matt requests, and you nod with a laugh.

“Alright. Let’s go eat pie.” You say, taking Dean’s hand and leading him through to your waiting boys.

WPF drabble: The reunion

Eddie drops off Eames and he walks into the house and heads straight to the bathroom to shower. As he’s turning off the faucet, he hears the front door close and calls: “In here, darling,” and plucks a towel from the rack to dry off. Arthur is seated on the edge of the bed by the time he steps from the steamy bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. His mate looks exhausted, but his white dress shirt is free of dirt and blood, which Eames supposes is a good sign. “All right?” he asks.

“Dom tipped off the cops. They should be at the house by now,” Arthur says, looking from his hands to Eames, “Everything okay on your end?”

Eames hums, nodding as he crosses the room to sit beside the omega: “I think so. Let me see,” he instructs, opening his hand so Arthur can be the one to place his wrist into Eames’s hand. The alpha unbuttons his cuff and rolls up the sleeve, sensing Arthur’s gaze on the side of his face as he inspects the bruised skin. The abrasions are blue, black, and ugly, but the bone isn’t protruding against the skin, so it’s not broken. Regardless, he makes a sympathetic noise and leans down to kiss the skin.

Arthur sighs, but it’s a happy sound: “I shit you not, Dom invited us to a gathering this weekend — he called it a reunion.”

He considers the proposition for a moment.

“That actually sounds rather fun.”

Arthur’s lips curl slowly: “That’s what I said too.”

Read More

When we’re together at home it’s just me and Zayn. I don’t even think of him being in One Direction. He’s just a sweet little boy. His most annoying habit is the fact he doesn’t ever stop singing – he’s even worse than me.
— 

Perrie Edwards

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