genre insp


throne of glass characters in other genres (insp.)
» celaena sardothien in southern gothic

running through the fields with bare feet was so exhilarating. away from her parents and the pressures to be the perfect daughter, away from the church and the pressures to be the perfect christian. for in reality, she was neither. she was wild. she wanted to be free. even if it killed her.


Pairing: Dean/Reader (she/her pronouns are used.)
Genre: Fluff, comfort
Insp: I found this poem from TWLOHA.
“I sang my way
through the day,
a simple song
with a single word,
over and over
into the grey.
Did you hear it,
did it find it’s way?
The song I sang was
Tyler Knott Gregson
AN: Writing an emergency fluff fic for sassplaidandbulletholes. Follow her and tell her nice things because she’s a beautiful human. This is for you, babe.
Today was not one of her favourite nights. She always seemed to do this. She tried so hard. This life was a marathon that she always chose to sprint. Even after a simple salt and burn with minimal bumps and bruises, she would feel drained because of the effort she put into everything. She insisted on cleaning most things up, on cooking after a tough hunt, on patching everyone up after a hunt. Her heart knew no bounds. Exhaustion was her undoing.
“Y/N? You alright? You look a bit pale,” Sam said, as you chopped up lettuce and carrots for a salad.
It took you a moment to realize the youngest Winchester brother was speaking to you.
“Oh? What? No, I’m fine. I’m tired, that’s all. Don’t worry, I’m doing perfectly fine, and anyways, there’s still a lot to do,” you said, smiling half heartedly.
Until you started to not feel fine. You head felt dizzy and your stomach sick. You legs felt like they could give out any time. Your hands relinquished the knife and clutched the countertops.
“Woah, Y/N,” Dean exclaimed. He rushed over to you, putting down the barbecue sauce. His arms reached around you, tracing themselves around your back, your arm around his shoulders.
“Let’s get you sitting down. You need to rest,” Dean said, voice softer than normal.
“But-” you started to say. However, you knew full well that Dean was far too stubborn and you were far too tired.
Dean supported you all the way to the small couch in the bunker. He took most of your weight off of your legs. Dean eased you on to the white sheets of your bed, laying you down as if you were a porcelain doll. He grabbed blankets and pillows and placed them all next to you.
“I’ll be okay, Dean. I just need a little bit of rest,” you chuckled lightly.
“Exactly. You don’t move. We can bring dinner to you. Sam can get you some tea. I have no idea how you make that dried leaf water taste good,” Dean said. There was a hint of triumph in his voice. He knew you were too tired to put up much of a fight.
Dean and Sam came back in in fifteen minutes. Grilled chicken and salad were on your plate. Dean carried his plate and yours while Sam carried your tea along with his dinner.
“Green tea with a bit of honey,” Sam said, handing you the steaming mug.
“Thanks,” you hummed. Dean sat next to you while Sam pulled up an arm chair. Dean was always the one who was protective and cuddly, even when Sam was the one who had a better grasp on emotions.
Dean put on the second Lord Of The Rings movie: The Two Towers. He was so into it, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
That night, you were feeling all right. Sam and Dean ate with you. Dean even let you share a piece of his pie. It was apple. The Winchesters stayed in your room for the full two and a half hours, watching the movie with you. You enjoyed it. Your head resting on Dean’s shoulder, the battle sequences flashing, the steady breathing. All of the angels and demons and monsters had exhausted you so much, and a night of rest was a nice break.
“I’m gonna go hit they hay. Night,” Sam said, waving goodnight as he left your bedroom.
“I probably should go too, sweetheart,” Dean said, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. He shifted, starting to stand.
“Wait!” You said, spontaneity getting the best of you. “Stay. Please. Just for the night.”
Dean looked taken aback. Big, bad, I-can-do-it-myself Y/N wanted him to stay wit her.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course sweetheart,” Dean said.
You shifted a bit, making more room for him. He laid next to you, pulling the blankets over the two of you. He leaned over to the night stand to turn off the lamp that warmly lit the small room.
You blushed slightly. Part of you didn’t expect him to stay.
“You know you can count on us, right sweetheart? We’ve got you. Don’t push yourself so much,” Dean said in a faint voice that came out almost as a whisper.
“I’m just doing whatever I can,” you replied at a similar volume.
“You’re doing more than enough. Just rest for me, alright? I don’t want you overworking yourself. You matter so much to all of us. To me,” Dean said placing his lips on your forehead, just a fraction of a second too long to be platonically comforting.
“I’m doing better, Dean,” you replied, thumb tracing his cheekbone. You hesitantly kissed him, your lips softly pressing against his own. He returned it, before you moved away a few seconds later.
“Get some sleep, Y/N. I love you,” he said, holding you to his chest, your face resting against his shoulder.
“I love you too, Dean,” you replied, closing your eyes, breaking in the mixture of gunpowder, and sandalwood before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.
In the morning, it would surprise you that he stay the entire night.