i am dumb...i'm

The Name Game

This is ridiculous, not gonna lie. Just a little Dean drabble that came to mind last night, when I was exhausted, and I literally gave myself the giggles. So imagine that Dean x reader are just as exhausted, and that things are just as stupid funny to them as they were to me when my mind came up with this… 

I’m so sorry :D


You feel the mattress give as he crawls beneath the covers, and you smile, still mostly asleep. He’s home. He’s safe.

He’s warm and solid behind you, one arm sneaking its way under your arm, angling up across your body to your shoulder as he spoons up close behind you. A contented sigh ruffles your hair a little as he drops a kiss to your head. “Glad you’re home,” you murmur, and he gives you a squeeze.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he says, and you love the way his voice makes his chest rumble against you. Something else is nudging against you, too, and you can’t help smiling.

“Seems like Little Dean is happy to see me, too,” you tease, and he chuckles.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” he says, his voice rich and lazy, sleepy.

“About what?”

“You always call him Little Dean. Hurts his feelings.”

You giggle softly. “I mean he’s little compared to – your whole self. You doof.”

“Well, he thinks he deserves a better name. Something a little more – impressive.”

You turn to your back, the silly grin on your face matching the one on his. “Oh, really. Well, does he have any suggestions?”

“A couple.”

“Please – enlighten me.” Dean’s eyes are shining with amusement, that fourteen-year-old self inside him that loves to be naughty is just dying to come out and play, and you love that side of him.

“Well, he gave me a list. Are you ready?”

“Please,” you sputter, almost giggling already.

“Well, these are pretty – meh, if you ask me, but – The Boss. The Sniper Rifle. The Specialist. Master Blaster. The Wench Wrench. But he’d prefer one of the top two.”

You almost choke trying to contain your laughter, you can barely speak. “Please, tell me the top picks. I can’t wait.”

Dean turns to his side to face you, both of you barely containing yourselves. Dean starts talking twice before he manages to stifle his laughter enough to continue. “Okay. Brace yourself. His favorites are: Mr. Happy Fun Time…”

A smothered explosion of giggles spews out between your lips, and you clamp them shut as your body shakes with laughter. Your voice is high-pitched and forced as you ask, “And? The other one?”

Dean’s entire face is twitching with the effort to contain himself, and you keep letting out little whines, laughter that is leaking out despite your efforts to stifle it for just one more minute.

“Sure you’re ready for this?”

“Yes. Please.”

“The Jackhammer of Love.”

Aaaaaand you’re both done. Neither of you has laughed this hard in – well, you can’t remember when. There are tears streaming down your face, your stomach aches, and still you can’t stop. And hearing Dean laugh like this, well – this is the best.

You both finally calm down, panting for breath, an occasional giggle starting you up again for a few moments here and there. Dean pulls you close for a kiss, your lips smiling against his. “So – what’s the verdict?” he asks, and you look into his eyes, still shining with mirth.

“Oh, I’m sorry – but I’m gonna have to sleep on that one.”

He pulls you close, letting out a big, exhausted sigh. “Fair enough. But I’m pretty sure he’s gonna be expecting an answer in the morning.”


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* ☆ .・   ❝   @deathbusiness     /    starter call !

           SHEEPISH FROWN, CORNERS of mouth turned down into something that looks goofy despite it’s genuity.  ❝ was that…. ❞ steps away from the mess of shattered glass on the ground.  ❝ was that as important as it looks ? please tell me that’s not people ashes and it’s just been a while since you dusted. ❞

;Nolan doesn’t like clutter.  He doesn’t like his homework to pile up, left in a pile of procrastination that would make his head start to hurt and his teeth start grind from frustration. But with two books in front of him that boldly read THE DARK FORCES: A Guide to Self-Protection and HOME LIFE AND SOCIAL HABITS of British Muggles, coughing up dust from age and their pages withered and yellow, he finds it hard to focus and even harder to study. If he had gone to the library, he figures, he would have been able to concentrate more. So, with a heavy sigh, he shoves his two books and study utensils away, and opens his mouth.]

If a clerk at a butcher shop stands five feet ten inches tall and wears size 13 shoes, what does he weigh?

2

Uh-oh, just found some arts which I made while I was living in my granny’s home.
I drew them on iPad mini, and well, they’re not so horrible as I thought earlier o: