Dean had always thought that a good quality comforter was the most luxurious thing to wake up under. But ever since he started waking up like this, his thoughts had changed entirely.
As sunlight gently peeked through the curtains, shining a cautious soft beam of light over the queen sized bed, Dean felt Castiel’s large, black wing loosely drooped over his body. The feathers were softer and warmer than anything a comforter could ever get him, large enough to cover his upper body and part of his legs. He smiled lazily. The feathers brushed against his bare skin as he stretched and moved around to shift closer to its owner.
Castiel lay on his back, his other wing stretched out over the edge of the bed down to the floor, his naked body exposed, blankets kicked aside in his sleep. Dean looked at him from under the wing, his fingers automatically gliding over soft raven feathers and smooth lines, known little bumps and the thicker parts.
Castiel looked peaceful. His lips were slightly parted as he slowly breathed in his steady rhythm of sleep. Dean lay there for a while, observing Cas as he let the warmth and softness of the feathers embrace him. He caressed he feathers still. Dean had been mesmerized by them ever since Castiel first exposed them. They were huge, majestic, and radiated a power Dean couldn’t compare with anything else.
And yet, they looked gentle and fragile when Cas injured them and Dean picked out the ruffled feathers. Castiel had taught Dean how to groom them and use the preen oil, an activity Dean found himself to enjoy, often compared with soft chatting. Sometimes a movie would be playing in the background as they sat on the floor and Dean plucked feathers, pressing kisses in the crook of Castiel’s neck.
Sometimes, Dean would take it a step further with his massages, out to get the little whimpers and groans from Castiel. He’d ended up with a panting, desperate Castiel several times, Dean’s hands full of feathers and his own body filled with arousal.
He loved it all. The quiet moments, the loud ones, the moments when Castiel held Dean with his wing or when they lay on the couch, curled up together with Castiel’s wings wrapped around them. Dean couldn’t get enough of them.
Castiel muttered softly and stirred, his eyes opening slowly.
The wing draped over Dean fluttered and shifted in Dean’s fingers. Cas turned to look at Dean, blinking the sleep from his eyes. The angel smiled.
“Morning sunshine,” Dean whispered and his own lips curved as well. Castiel made a soft noise and shifted closer. He stretched his wings for a moment, then covered Dean with his right one again and pulled him closer with the wrist of his wing.
“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel muttered, his primary feathers rustling. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” he answered and pressed a sloppy kiss to Castiel’s unshaven jaw. “How couldn’t I, hm?” He slipped his fingers into the pack of feathers carefully, and Cas smiled again.
“You seem to enjoy my wings a lot.” They moved again.
“I think they’re beautiful, you know that.”
Castiel shifted and pulled his wing in, gesturing his head. Dean understood and he got up so Cas could slide his wing under Dean. As soon as Dean sank down into the feathers, Castiel pulled him closer.
Dean’s naked body pressed softly against Cas, covered by the angel’s wing and casting a shadow over their faces.
Dean kissed Castiel’s jaw again, pressed a few more kisses down his neck and shoulder.
The wings replied to the touch, shifting and shuddering when Dean softly nibbled on the skin.
“It’s rare for an angel to show his wings this… casually.” Castiel spoke, his voice still thick with sleep. His eyes were closed again, enjoying Dean’s kisses. “It’s only for… special occasions. And special people.”
Dean looked up and feathers softly brushed over the back of his head and Cas looked back. He softly rested his hand on Dean’s waist. “You’re special, Dean.”
Dean didn’t know how to reply, shy suddenly. He smiled a coy grin and pecked Castiel’s lips.
“Think I’m glad about that.” He muttered, shifting back into the feathers. This was how Sunday’s had to feel, he thought. Calm and peaceful and warm and right.
He found Castiel’s hand and tangled their fingers together.
“Maybe we should get up for some coffee soon. I’m sure Sam’s already awake.” Dean whispered, his eyes closed.
“Probably,” Cas answered. “Just- not yet.”
Dean hummed in agreement and gently slid his free hand through the silky feathers. He didn’t want to think about the case they were working on or the monsters they had to fight. Not yet. Just a few more minutes.
He was torturing you. He had made it his life goal to torture you every single chance he got.
That smug smile on his lips as he lay next to his pool, an arm draped over his eyes and he was casually sunbathing gave you all sorts of mixed emotions. For example, you didn’t know if you wanted to punch or kiss that fucking smirk off his face because he knew you were watching. It didn’t help that he had the face of a freaking god but his body too? Dear, nohe was made to torture you. His abs or muscles weren’t as defined as his brothers, the way you had once noticed, but what made you go weak in Dean was his broad shoulders and arms and the softness of his skin. Amongst many many other things.
Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving) fingering, this is PWP
Prompt: Sam meets up with the reader at a bar, and neither of them want to go home alone. Both their jobs require them to move around a lot, and sometimes, they get a little antsy and crave the affection of another person. That leads them to Sam’s motel room for one night of pure fun.
You didn’t want, or even need a partner to settle down with. You had grown used to being alone and working alone and doing just about everything alone. But, a girl gets antsy from time to time.
a lot of people, like neville, choose to return to hogwarts for their “eighth year”
a lot of them aren’t surprises - hermione, luna, draco…
but what is a surprise is when george weasley peeks his head into neville’s train carriage and asks if he can sit with them
and, unlike many of the people on the train, he grins and accepts a voucher for a free copy of the quibbler from luna and when he says “cool” she looks so happy she might burst
“i thought you left school,” neville says
“thought i’d come back,” george says, scratching his arm, “finish learning everything, so my products can be the best”
there’s something he’s not saying, but neville just nods
they share the jelly slugs they get from the trolley, and swap chocolate frog cards because neville has fabian prewett
“i didn’t even know he was on a card,” george says, raising an eyebrow
the room of requirement shows up to all the eighth years as another common room, for when they need the peace and quiet and time to themselves or time with those who have been through what they’ve been through
neville almost always finds george there, instead of in the common room, and he’s surprised, but he doesn’t say anything again, because he knows george is still reeling from being without fred
(the fact he’s even come back is a miracle)
but he can’t take that george is always sitting there looking miserable, so after class one day he heads over to george, feeling bold, and asks
“would you like to come and help me cultivate the dittany?”
fuck, he thinks suddenly, that’s so stupid, of course he isn’t going to want to do that, he probably thinks it’s boring-
but george smiles and nods, getting to his feet
he’s surprisingly good with the plants, and he even talks to them, just like neville
between the two of them, they take the dittany cuttings in far less time than neville would’ve taken alone
“thanks for inviting me out,” george says, leaning against the greenhouse door as neville pulls off his apron (can’t be too careful). “it’s been really hard, and you and luna and hermione have been great”
neville shrugs: “i just want to help”
“well, thank you for it”
neville’s not expecting it when george tentatively puts his arms up around neville’s back and leans in close, hugging him gingerly, like he’s scared of the contact
he’s a little nervous to do this, in case it’s wrong, but neville hugs back a little tighter and george melts into him for the briefest of moments
george starts to settle in a little, after; he stops sitting on the sofa on his own staring into space and helps luna out with making posters advertising for quidditch positions for ravenclaw
he even takes up the helm of quidditch commentator, and when neville cheers in the stands with hermione, it almost feels like nothing’s happened at all
he’s not going to forget the carrows and what they did to hogwarts, not easily, and george is never going to get over being alone in hogwarts, but it feels like - it feels like things aren’t completely awful, like there’s a light far far away at the end of the tunnel, but there, even if it’s difficult to reach
there’s a strange and utterly unpredictable mid-october heatwave, and he helps george and luna hand out ice creams to the younger students
george lights up when he’s busy, grinning at the first and second years and giving them a reassuring clap on the shoulder when he sends them off with their cute little ice cream cones
neville is struck by how sweet it is, that he’s doing his best for them, no matter how he feels on the inside
george is a people person, and always has been
“hey, nev, you want some?” he asks with a grin
“it’s for the younger students,” neville says stubbornly, but he can tell already that george isn’t giving up on this
“come onnnn,” he says, butting his shoulder against neville and giving him a playful look, and neville has to give up with a smile
“only if you’ll have some, too”
luna takes over, because the rush has died down, so neville and george sit out in one of the courtyards, basking in the peculiar heat (“the hell’s wrong with scottish weather?” george asks with a fake frown)
“how are you feeling?” neville asks, trying not to be awkward
“okay,” says george. “not feeling like i want to die, or anything, strangely enough”
“if you do, i’m here, and so is luna, and hermione, and everyone else…” he nudges george. “maybe even draco malfoy would be nice to you,” he says with half a wink, and george giggles
and they spend most of the afternoon out there, even once they’ve finished their ice creams (though george has to finish neville’s cone), just talking and laughing and reminiscing
they start spending time as a group: neville, george, luna, and hermione, and dean and seamus sometimes join them, but they’re tight-knit because they’ve been through so much
they can relate to each other
but neville and george start to stick together; neville loves george’s quirks, and george appreciates that neville wants to help and spend time with him
george helps out around the greenhouse, and neville helps test the products… even if that means being turned into a canary again (he didn’t mind so much the first time, really)
they become inseparable
neville worries he’s a replacement for fred, but hermione assures him he can’t be, because he’s so different and not exactly a bundle of excitement and energy like fred; he’s quiet and careful, sits and waters his cacti instead of making big jokes
it’s an option in seventh year to help out in the first year classes - not that most people take it, because it’s a waste of the time they could be using revising for their dang n.e.w.t.s - but neville has a go, and george waits for him to walk to their next period class, grinning
“next thing we know, you’re gonna be called professor longbottom,” he says
“you think?” neville scratches his chin, thoughtfully. “that’d be nice”
“you’d be great,” george assures him
it’s not a surprise that they get together - the only surprise is that it took them so long, but with feelings all tangled up like vines, maybe it’s understandable (but not to the younger gryffindors, anyway, who have been keeping a betting pool)
it’s in mid-december, and they’re sitting out in the rain in puffy jackets testing out george’s magical umbrella that creates more of a bubble than an umbrella, keeping the rain off completely, with no having to dump the umbrella in the bath later
neville has a flask he’s borrowed from dean, with hot chocolate and marshmallows and he’s about to share it with george when he suddenly realises how close they are and how much he wants everything for george
and wants everything about george
he just wants to be close to george, to hug him, to kiss him better
he leans in and touches his lips to george, a little uncertain just like their first hug, and george puts a hand round the back of his neck, pulling him closer
neville can feel the smile against him
they don’t say anything about it afterwards because there’s nothing they need to say to each other that they don’t know, so he takes a sip of hot chocolate
(and they kiss again because they’ve spent this long not kissing; they might as well start making use of their time)
“how are you feeling?” neville asks, just before they go back inside
“a lot like i don’t want to die,” george says, squeezing his hand, “’cause i think i’ve got something to live for”
“Sam, what’s your favorite color?” Dean asked from the passenger’s seat of the impala. Cas couldn’t see exactly what he was looking at on his phone, but from small glances, he was pretty sure it was some kind of quiz.
Sam smiled, staring far down the road.
“Brown,” he said with a smirk.
Dean nodded, not looking up, but Cas smiled in understanding as he shoved his feet under the seat at the front of the car.
“What about you, Cas?” Dean asked using one finger to scroll on his phone.
Cas leaned forward across the seat, his chin digging into the back of it. When he tried to spy Dean’s phone, the hunter pulled it away subtly.
He sighed, peeking at one of Dean’s eyes.
“Green,” he said definitively.
Sam snorted from the front seat. Dean looked confused.
“Ok, weirdos,” he said. “Just trying to figure out what ninja turtles you would be.”
After a moment of silence, he shrugged. “What?” he asked. “Can’t spend the whole trip listening to classic rock.”
Sam was full-on-laughing at this point and Dean turned off his phone, embarrassed.
“Shut up,” he said, then turned away.
Cas slung an elbow across the front seat.
“What about you, Dean? What’s your favorite color?”
“Bet I could guess,” Sam interrupted from the front seat with a knowing look towards Cas.
Dean’s eyes narrowed.
“Ok, why are you two being so weird.”
Sam shrugged. “It’s nothing. We’re just curious about what your favorite color is, that’s all. Is it pink, or black, or maybe,” he paused, “blue?”
“Sure,” Dean replied, eyes still squinting in confusion. “Blue’s ok. I think I like red, better.”
Cas shifted forward so his head was close to Dean’s.
“Only ok?” he said, disappointed.
Shrugging, Dean started getting defensive, sensing there was something he was missing.
“I don’t know, yeah, it’s a good color. What the hell is going on with you guys?”
Sam, in between short bursts of laughter, managed to say: “Dean, ask me why brown is my favorite color.”
He rolled his eyes, but finally Dean decided to bite: “Ok, I give, why is it your favorite color?”
Sam’s features sobered. “It’s the color of Eileen’s eyes,” he said fondly.
Dean laughed. “Alright, so you’re a big sap. We get it.”
He was about to let it go when Cas leaned forward, placing a soft hand on Dean’s arm. His head was peeking out over the seat awkwardly, his expression shy.
“But you didn’t ask me why my favorite color was green,” he said softly.
Sam was grinning in pure entertainment at this point, but the other two men ignored this.
It took a second. Then slowly, Dean’s expression dawned in understanding.
“Oh,” he said, blushing and turning away. Cas smiled.
Dean stared at the road, processing for a moment. It was quiet except for the small bumps the impala hit. Then:
“I’d like to change my answer,” Dean said. He couldn’t bring himself to look at anyone in particular, and his cheeks were bright red. His last words were quiet and shy, but he was smiling:
Warnings: None Characters: Sam & Dean Winchester, sister Winchester reader, Gabriel, Castiel, Balthazar, Rowena, Crowley, Lucifer Summary: EASTER. EGG. HUNT. Reader’s Age: 5-6 years old Word count: 1040
Y/N: Your Name Y/N/N: Your Nickname
A/N: My frens helped with all the ideas so if it seems all over the place that’s because I tried to fit all their ideas into one imagine. (And I didn’t even get them all) But basically everyone is friends in this world! Happy Easter and enjoy!
Waking up with a yawn you stretched as your eyes fluttered open. You looked around your room and saw pastel colors like pink, purple, yellow, and green covering the walls and furniture. You hopped out of bed and trotted over to a small, pink basket with some fake Easter grass covering the bottom of it.
“Easter…” you whispered to yourself. You grabbed the basket and scanned your room, searching for Easter eggs.
Your eyes finally landed on a small blue egg sitting on your bed frame. You ran over, grabbed the egg and set it in your basket.
You opened your door and peeked outside. Streamers decorated the halls. With a smile and a skip in your step, you headed towards the kitchen, picking up a few eggs here and there along the way.
Once you arrived in the kitchen you looked to the table to see a bunch of food. From ham to carrot cake to even butter shaped like a small lamb. Looking around the room you spotted a few Easter eggs.
Picking up what you assume to be the last egg in the kitchen you were startled by a voice that spoke from the corner. “Enjoying the hunt?” You turned around and saw Gabriel finishing a cookie.
“Yeah! I has so many eggs!” You raised your basket to show Gabriel.
“The Easter Bunny was pretty busy,” Gabriel commented. You smiled, grabbed a mini doughnut and headed out of the kitchen.
You padded down the hall into the War Room. You turned the corner to see the one and only, Lucifer. Of course, you didn’t know he was Satan, you only knew him as Luci. He had his feet propped up on the map table and a pair of pink bunny ears on his head.
“Welcome!” he greeted. “Have you found all the eggs yet?”
“Not yet. I have lots of rooms to go,” you responded as you searched the room. Luci unwrapped a piece of candy and plopped it in his mouth.
You made your way into the library where you saw Sam and Dean towards the back by the giant telescope. Sam was sitting down and Dean was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. They both had small smiles as they watched you run around the room looking for eggs.
Once you were done looking for eggs you skipped over to your brothers and showed them your basket. “Lookie! I gots lots of eggs!”
“Wow, you’ve been busy,” Sam replied, giving you a soft tap on your shoulder.
“Where are your eggs?” you asked, looking back and forth between your brothers.
“We don’t have any eggs,” Sam responded.
“Oh…” you looked down at your eggs. “Here!” you handed an egg to Sam, then one to Dean. Sam and Dean both smiled.
“Thanks, Y/N/N,” Dean chuckled and ruffled your hair.
“Happy Easter!” a new voice spoke. You all turned your attention to the man standing in the library, Balthazar. “This is for you,” Balthazar handed you a bottle of wine.
Your eyebrows furrowed together as you stared at the wine. As soon as it was in your hands, it was snatched away, you turned around and saw Sam holding the wine with a disapproving face.
“What are you doing? That’s hers,” Balthazar pointed to you.
“She’s five,” Sam argued.
“And when she’s whatever age that bottle of wine better still be here for her.” Balthazar made his point clear.
Balthazar turned around to see Luci standing behind him trying to put bunny ears on him. “What are you doing?” Balthazar backed away.
“You need to get in the Easter spirit,” Luci continued to try and put bunny ears on Balthazar.
“Stop that,” Balthazar pushed Luci’s hand away, earning a giggle from you.
You took two eggs out of your basket and walked over to the angels. You put one in Luci’s hand and the other in Balthazar’s. They both smiled at you and Luci opened his egg.
“Did you forget about me?” Gabriel entered the room. You laughed and grabbed an egg then ran over to Gabe. You handed Gabe the egg and ran back over to your brothers.
“My, oh, my, doesn’t this place look beautiful!” a Scottish voice made its presence known. You turned around and saw Rowena admiring the decorations and Crowley was standing next to her.
“Oh! Dear, what are you still doing in your pajamas? Come, let’s get you in something different.” Rowena held out her hand. You grabbed two eggs and handed one to Crowley who gladly accepted the egg with a small head nod and handed the other to Rowena. You and Rowena then headed to your room.
Rowena dressed you in a pretty, yellow sundress. She curled your hair before taking strands from the front and pinning them back.
You two made your way back into the kitchen where everyone was gathered around the table that was covered with food. You walked over and sat next to Sam; Rowena sat on your other side.
“I feel like we’re missing someone…” Dean commented before sitting down.
“I believe that would be me,” Castiel spoke from behind you. You turned around and jumped out of your seat.
“What are you holding, Cas?” Sam noticed Castiel holding something inside his trench coat.
“A present for Y/N,” Castiel took his hands out of his coat to reveal a small, adorable, fuzzy bunny. You gasped and ran over to him. “Now remember, bunnies are a lot of work, you have to take care of it.”
“Cas, I thought we talked about this. Don’t get her a gift that requires work!” Dean stood up.
“Can we keep it?” you took the bunny from Cas and stared at your brothers with big puppy dog eyes.
“C'mon, Dean. You won’t let her have a dog, you’re allergic to cats, let her at least keep the bunny.” Sam tried to convince his brother.
Dean thought for a moment, staring down at your pleading face; he was already a goner. “Fine,” Dean huffed and threw his arms up, clearly upset he lost this battle.
“YAY!” you cheered and snuggled the rabbit in your arms.
“To Easter,” Crowley raised a glass.
“To Easter!” Everyone said simultaneously, raising their glasses.
I hope y’all like this one and I’m open for tips on improving!
anonymous requested: “Eggsy x reader request: could you do an imagine w the prompt “dont you trust me” where like they get into a fight and reader leaves, she gets in trouble because of her connection to him and he saves her juuuust before its too late (basically looaaads of angst and fluff)?”
author’s note: NOW WE’RE TALKING! I love angst, I love Eggsy, let’s do this. This is a little sad to read, guys. Get ready for some feels! This is longer than a drabble, let’s be real, but I got a little carried away.
Eggsy Unwin x Reader
Your heart practically stops at the sight of your boyfriend standing in the doorway, battered and bruised with a long cut on his cheek and his suit torn and stained red. “Jesus, Eggsy!” You exclaim, hand fluttering to cover your mouth as he steps into the flat, delicately removing his suit jacket.
A/N: This is the long awaited one-shot I posted a sneak peek of some time last week! I hope you guys enjoy this! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! :)
When you came back to the bunker after going on your own hunt, Dean was gone and Sam was with Cas. You had a wall of text to read from Sam, but you stopped before you could read it. The thing that stopped you in your tracks was a damaged archangel. One you thought had died a long time ago; one you had loved for many years regardless of what he did and who he was to Sam and Dean.
Your eyes grew wide at the sight of Gabriel. It felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest. Your heart broke a little when he seemed to shrink into his seat. There was blood all over his face and his clothes. You set your bag carefully down on the table and slowly came around the table.
“Hey Gabe,” you spoke softly. You wanted to show him that you were not there to hurt him, but to help and comfort him. You crouched down beside his chair and rested your hand on the arm of the wooden seat.
A little squeak came from the archangel’s lips. After a few seconds of looking at your face, his eyebrows furrowed together. His expression shifted from a frightened one to a relieved one. With a shaky hand, Gabriel reached out and his fingertips brushed across your face. A small hum came from him as he tilted his head to the side.
“Yeah it’s me, [Y/N],” you said with a smile. “I’m sure I look a little different, but not too different, right?” Gabriel gave a small nod in response. “Is it okay if I help you get cleaned up? I’m sure you want to get into some clean clothes.”
He reaches for his grace to find that it’s gone, but his hands are still there, so he reaches out with those, instead. He claws his way up and out of the cold and damp and crushing weight, holding his breath, chest aching.
As soon as he breaks the surface, he lies there, still half buried, and gasps in lungful after lungful of cold, fresh air.
It’s only when his breathing finally calms that he pulls himself the rest of the way out of the ground. He tries to stand but winds up falling to all fours, fabric of his damp clothes chafing against his knees, his elbows. He settles for kneeling, instead, as he tries in vain to shake the sand from his hair and clothes, wipe it from his skin.
As the sun finally peeks over the mountains, he twists his head, looks over his shoulder.
They buried him where he fell. In the early morning light, he can make out the shape of his own damaged wings seared onto the ground, stretching out on either side of where he lay. There is no cross marking his grave, no cairn, just a small circle of carefully placed rocks and a pair of familiar bootprints not yet washed away by the elements.
Castiel turns back around. He rises slowly to his feet and stumbles into the house.
Summary: The gala finally arrives, and Dean is absolutely floored by your dress. An interaction with Samuel leaves Dean fuming, but you calm him down. Dean finally admits his feelings.
Pairing: AU!Dean x Reader
Word Count: 3,300 (hold onto your hats kids it’s a long one)
Warnings: Language, sexual tension, anxiety, mild smuttiness
A/N: It’s here it’s here it’s here it’s here the gala is finally HERE I’m so excited for you guys to read this part!!! It’s long, so settle in! This part is inspired by the song In Case You Didn’t Know, by Brett Young (ohmygod now I’m so nervous to post this aaaaahhhhh)
Warnings: None. Just fluffiness
Characters: Sam & Dean Winchester, Sister Winchester Reader
Summary: You keep taking Sam’s stuff
Reader’s Age: Any
Word Count: 588(like I said it’s a drabble)
Y/N: Your Name
A/N: Wrote half of this awhile ago when I still had my laptop and I finished it a few days ago and boom here it is! Also figured y'all needed something nice and fluffy after the last imagine… Heh… Enjoy!
“Dean, have you seen my laptop?” Sam asked his brother, looking frantically around the library.
“No. Did you lose it?”
Sam gave Dean the classic Winchester bitch-face. “If I hadn’t lost it, I wouldn’t be asking you,” Sam snarked.
“Well looks like you also just lost my help,” Dean picked up his book and walked off.
Sam’s alarm clock blared in his room and startled him awake. He rolled over with a groan and shut it off. Sighing, he got up and dragged his feet, heavy with sleep, over to his dresser. Sam opened a drawer, realizing he only had two flannels left. With a confused look, Sam took one of the two flannels left and came to the conclusion that simply no one’s done the laundry in awhile.
Sam had a shower, got dressed and made his way to the library.
“Is Y/N up yet?” Sam asked once he saw Dean scrolling on his laptop, feet up on the table and leaning back in a chair.
“Not that I know of,” Dean answered, noticing Sam’s flannel. “Didn’t you wear that a few days ago?”
“I thought so too…” Sam looked down at his clothes, “All my shirts and flannels are disappearing. Has anyone done the laundry?”
“Yeah. Y/N did it yesterday,” Dean told Sam, fianlly getting into this odd mystery.
“Maybe she hasn’t brought my clothes to my room yet.” Sam said just above a whisper, but with the quiet that the Bunker always had, Dean heard.
“Dean!” Sam yelled from down the hall, peeking his head out of his bedroom door.
“What?!” Dean yelled back, not bothering to get up from his comfy spot in a chair.
“Did you take one of my books?” Sam yelled back, walking around the corner into the kitchen.
Dean called back, “Dude, I haven’t taken any of your stuff.”
Sam’s thoughts were interrupted as he saw you waltz into the kitchen. His eyes instantly went to the flannel you were wearing, not just any flannel, his flannel.
Sam cleared his throat. “Y/N?” You turned around, giving him a silent cue to continue. “Is that my flannel?” He pointed to the giant red plaid flannel you were wearing. You looked down at it and fiddled with the soft, long sleeves.
“Uhmmm… no?” you answered, avoiding Sam’s eyes in hopes he won’t make you give them back.
“Are you the one stealing my stuff?” Sam couldn’t help the grin that wormed it’s way in.
“Okay,” you huffed in defeat. “I usually just take like one or two of your flannels, but then I kept losing them so I kept taking more…”
Sam gave you a straight and unreadable face, making you crack like an egg. “They’re comfy!” you defended, waving your hands around and the long sleeves flew around, nearly hitting a pan.
“I want my flannels back, and all the other stuff you took from me,” Sam chuckled, “but… you can keep one.”
“Fine…” You pouted, shuffling back to your room to find all the hidden flannels you stole. Dean started laughing as he watched the mystery unfold.
“I don’t get why she goes after my things,” Sam chuckled.
“As long as she doesn’t take my stuff…” Dean snarked, earning an eye roll from Sam. “Y'know… Some of my blankets have been going missing- Y/N!!” Dean yelled, racing out of the kitchen after you as he heard Sam burst out laughing.
I hope y'all like this one! I’m open for tips on improving!
Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader
Length: 2129+ words [I didn’t think it was this long tbh…]
TW: Nothing in this chapter!
A/N: Do you guys remember that video of the dad who calmed their crying baby by sleeping in their crib, and they tried leaving, but their kid wasn’t having any of it? Well… this was very much inspired by that video! And of course, because it’s me, I had to put a bit of angst here and there- moreso in the next part!
Dean groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. Not only did the witch get away, but she left some annoying consequences for the brothers to deal with. Their youngest sister sat on the floor. Her would be adult body was now a toddler- not even a toddler, a baby. The witch had freaking turned his baby sister into a baby. She tilted her head to the side, looking up at her older brother, hazel eyes wide with confusion.
“Dean! Where’s-” Sam stopped in his track just behind his older brother, looking down at the baby in front of them. “Is that-”
“Yea.” Dean threw his arms up in frustration, stomping away. “Damn it!”
Y/N watched her older brother for a few seconds, her bottom lip quivering. Soon enough, a wail erupted from her small figure. Fear and confusion bubbling inside of her.
“Damn it, Dean,” Sam cursed under his breath. “You scared her.” The youngest brother picked his sister up, adjusting her clothes that are now too big on her, and placing her against his side. “Hey, now. You’re okay.” He gently bounced her while cooing.
“C’mon. Let’s just get back to the bunker,” Dean said roughly, walking back to the Impala without a second glance to his younger siblings.
Cas and Dean have been neighbors since they were six years old, the fact that Cas is deaf meaning little to Dean until an accident makes it all too clear. Valentine’s Day special.
Dean had lived across from Castiel since he was six years old. He still remembered when the Novak’s had moved in, and how excited he’d been when a little black-haired boy with a bee stuffed animal had tottered into the house after his mother. Because they’d been the same age, and as far as Dean’s six-year-old brain had figured, that meant he got to make a new friend. Dean had always been happy to make friends.
He’d begged his mother for days – from the arms of their couches and edges of countertops – to go and meet them. With Sam on her hip, she’d said, “no, not now,” leaving Dean to wander up to his room dejected and staring out his window at the blue house across the lonely road.
Until the weekend had finally arrived, at which point Mary had packed together a welcome basket, spurred John out of the garage, and held Sam’s hand as they headed from one side across to the next. Dean had been jumping with excited nerves, smiling with his new football held in his tiny hands.
Up the stone walkway to the porch and front door of the house, Mary had knocked, the group waiting with varying degrees of anticipation.
A thin, mousy, blonde haired woman had answered, looking them up and down in silent surprise that Dean had failed to notice. He’d been too busy trying to peek past her legs into the house, looking for the little boy he’d thought he’d invite to play out in the yard.
“Um, hello,” the strange woman had greeted. Mary had said some nice words, introduced them, and soon enough they’d been in the house. Gathered in the kitchen, Dean had looked between the adult’s legs with a vigorous kind of searching, hands flexing around the football. Until, finally being noticed by Mary, an explanation had been given.
“Dean saw your son, I think,” she’d said to the strange woman, a questioning smile on her bright face, as if to make sure she’d been assuming correctly. “He’s been bugging me all week to come over and talk to you so they could play.”
“Oh…” Dean had turned hopefully up to them, not perceptive enough to see that the blonde – her name was Amelia – had been fidgeting in unease, her voice hardly above a murmur. “Well…” She’d looked Dean up and down – at his ruffled blonde hair and dirt-smudged face. He’d been teaching Sam how to catch earlier, to little success. “I suppose that… that might be alright.”
Both Mary and John had been perplexed by her hesitance, but said nothing on it as she’d walked from the kitchen. Figuring that perhaps she was simply overprotective, they’d instead focused on stopping Sam from wandering under the bar chairs, getting him rounded up just in time for Amelia to return to the room.
She’d been bent over someone, hands on the small shoulders of the little boy walking ahead of her. He’d been gripping his bee stuffed animal, a look of nervousness painted across his delicate features as he’d looked the newcomers up and down. His black hair had been nicely brushed, no filthy spots on his clothes.
None of this had deterred Dean however, who’d bounded forward with a smile, successfully startling the other boy, whose blue eyes had widened in surprise.
Summary – It
takes a near death experience for the reader to find out why she can see an
Word Count –
Warnings – Canon-type
A/N – When I hit
my 500 follower milestone, I did drabble requests. I only received two, so I am
turning them into full one shots instead!
This one was from @trinityjadec: “OH MY GOSH CONGRATS YOU DESERVE SO
MANY FOLLOWERS!!! Could I have Cas and something with his wings? (still have an
unhealthy obsession) I LOVE YOU SO MUCH KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK”
Here you go, Trinity! I hope you enjoy it and I’m so sorry for the
Also written for @percussiongirl2017’s
I’m Finally Legal Birthday Challenge. I
got #37: Why can I see your wings? And
the song “If I Died Today” by Tim McGraw
You would never forget the first time you saw Castiel. You were sitting in the bunker library with
Sam, discussing a possible vampire case up in Omaha that you’d been trying to
research for several days, when the front door opened and Dean began descending
the stairs with another man you’d never seen before.
Sam had always mildly irritated Dean with his stacks of books, and his inflated vocabulary. But, Dean had come to terms with it, at least that was until there were two of them–two book nerds living under one roof who spent all their spare time in the library.
It was insufferable. Ever since Cas moved in, he’d spent most of his free time exploring the bunker’s massive library. And, every time Sam would show him a new section, it would be days before Dean would see either of them again. He would only hear their convoluted conversations seeping through the walls. Those two were doing such a good job of nerding up the bunker, it left Dean practically always begging for a new case.
“Have you seen the ‘Goblin’ wing?” He heard Sam ask from the other room.
“Stupid nerd books,” he whispered.
He sighed, standing up and throwing the remote back on the couch, with a scowl. So much for suggesting a movie night.
“Stupid Cas,” he exhaled.
Dean stretched and turned, only to find himself face-to-face with Cas, who held a precarious looking stack of books that seemed ready to topple.
“Did you just call me stupid?”
Dean gulped: “No.”
“Yes you did, I just heard you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dean’s eyes began to dart around the room for possible escape routes when suddenly, he noticed Cas’s new accessory: Glasses. And, to top it off, they were the hipster kind.
“Oh, come on,” Dean protested, as Cas set the stack of books on the edge of the table. “Do angels even need glasses?”
Cas squinted, taking them off. “Just, uh… having fun. I’ve been reading a lot, and…” he trailed off, pocketing the glasses and fixed his tie.
Dean rolled his eyes as Cas made his way over to him.
“Hey,” he said, squinting. “what’s going on with you?”
Dean shrugged, shaking his head. Thankfully, the stack of books fell off the edge of the table with a loud smack as a distraction. Dean moved to go pick them up when a firm hand grabbed his arm in the motion, stopping him.
“Dean…” Cas said coolly.
Dean tried to shake free, but it was clear Cas meant business. He waited.
“You and Sam are ruining the vibe around here, ok, with your nerdy books, and your nerdy glasses…” Dean finally said. He glanced down at Cas who was unmistakably wearing red fuzzy socks that peeked out of the bottom of his suit pants. “And those ridiculous socks.”
Dean braved a look at Cas, noticing his pen-stained fingers and the way his hair looked like he just rolled out of bed. But then he saw Cas’s eyes: earnest. Blue. He swallowed.
“So… ” Cas mused slowly, “my ridiculous socks, and my nerdy book reading are bothering you.”
Dean glanced down, noticing just how close the two of them were getting in this conversation as he backed into the edge of the couch.
“Yes,” he said more feebly than he’d have liked. He cleared his throat. “And your ridiculous socks.”
Cas squinted, nodding as he bit his lip, mulling this over. He took a step forward:
“And it’s nothing else.”
Dean shook his head. He tried again to break away from Cas’s grip, but Cas was stronger. And, he was getting closer. They were practically nose to nose at this point, and… Cas looked GOOD and smelled even better. Damn it.
Without thinking, Dean knotted his fingers around Cas’s tie, pulling him in deeply for a kiss. Cas lost his balance as his socks slipped for a moment, but that only made Dean grab him harder.
When they pulled away, their foreheads stayed latched, both men smiling and out of breath.
“God,” Dean said. Then, sheepishly: “I think I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile.”
Cas laughed. “Why haven’t you?”
Dean glanced over at the toppled books, knowingly.
“Oh,” Cas said with a half smile. “Right. Because I’m a nerd.”
“A big fat one who should probably start reading books in my bed from now on instead of the library,” he said deviously.
“I think I can do that,” Cas said, blushing a little.
Waiting expectantly, Dean paused.
Cas squinted, then his eyes widened. “Oh, you mean now?”
Smiling, Dean smacked Cas lightly on the ass as he hunched over to grab a book. He pulled on his tie for another quick kiss when Cas stood up again.
“My room. Now,” Dean said. Then, he leaned in and very quietly whispered in Cas’s ear: “And bring the glasses.”
They finally get a lead on Kelly Kline on a Saturday. Spurred on by guilt and probably a bit of cabin fever, Castiel turns right around from the hunt he just returned from with Mary to chase her down.
“Oh,” Castiel says, turning. He sticks a hand into his coat pocket. “I almost forgot.”
It isn’t like him to forget things, so the move has to be calculated. Then again, he loses his phone all over the place. Maybe he really did just forget whatever it is. Dean’s startled out of his musing by a shiny projectile hurtling towards his face, which he catches gracelessly in one hand. The metal, whatever it is, feels cool in his palm. He blinks up at Castiel.