i think i wanna marry you :3

Patrick: Urgh! Pathetic! Its been 1 month since the incident on Dirdum Lane and he’s been doing nothing but mope around since!

Patrick: Weak! I don’t understand how he’s our quote on quote, LEADER! I would make a better leader! I’m loyal, intelligent and direct!

Patrick: Paul, its time things change. He’s been sitting on that chair for 3 days straight!

Paul: Well what do you want me to do?

Patrick: Were LEAVING, Paul! Go up to him and tell a lie! But little does he know were ditching do get married.

Paul: Geez, babe, that seems really mean…

Patrick: I don’t wanna hear it, Paul! Its happiness or being stuck with this Debby Downer for life!

Paul: EHEHEHEH…. Hey… Tord.


Paul: Me and Pat have been thinking off not sticking around for much longer…

Tord: You’re…. You’re leaving me? Everyone is leaving me…

Paul: AHAHAHAH NO NO NO! Not at all!!! We just ran out of milk! And we all know how cranky Patrick gets when there’s no milk in his coffee, am i right???

Patrick: GET. TO. THE. POINT.

Paul: Right, right! Uhhh no need to worry, boss. Were just going to get Pat’s milk and we’ll be back ASAP! We totally aren’t ditching you or anything because you’re stinky and haven’t showered in a month! And we totally aren’t leaving to get married either! Me and Patrick are loyal, sir!

Tord: Thank you, Paul and Patrick. I know I can always count on you guys. :)

Paul: YEP! For life! See ya later!


Paul: Do you think we did the right thing, Patrick. I feel like we could of at least have been honest. We didn’t have to lie…

Patrick: This is for the better! I knew things were getting worse and worse around here. It was time we leave once and for all! Let Tord rot! Besides, the police would of found us sooner or later and I don’t want to get arrested!

Paul: You have a point… We had good times at the base, though… Goodbye Tord.

Patrick: Come on, drive!

And after 3 days have passed, I realized they were never coming back.

Use a pickup line on my muse and they’ll rate it out of 1-10!

1-2 - Are you serious? That was lame as hell. I don’t even wanna be FRIENDS with you.
3-4 - You got that online somewhere, didn’t you? It’s alright but you did not make that up yourself. Even if you did, it’s cheesy.
5-6 - Wow, nice one. Props to you, I guess. I don’t know if I’m interested yet, though.
7-8 - Pfft! That was amazing! I love that! You surely are a charmer with words.
9 - Oh my…. that is so incredible!!! I’m so upset I didn’t think of that!!!!! I love you!
10 - …………….marry me

I Think I Wanna Marry You...(Part 3)

Pairing: Dean X Reader.

Warnings: fluff, mild angst, Dean being a jealous bb

S/P/N- Sister’s Preferred Name.

Word count: 5k O_O

Summary: Dean, trying to get accustomed to Y/N’s family and her life in Boston, finds himself worrying about their very own lives together and what the future holds. Will he manage to find a permanent position in her life, or is it all just a role he must play for these two weeks?

Part 1

Part 2

A/N: I’ve been writing this over a span of two weeks and had initially planned to divide it into two or three parts, but decided against it. I hope you like this.

Tagging: @sassyspn67 , @awkward–jay , @daesunglg​ ,  @hayleynightcore


Dean prays his nervousness doesn’t show in the weak smile he offers the table of gleaming faces. They all stand as the three of them approach, all with welcoming smiles, all eyes trained on Y/N as she walks to them like a prodigal daughter returning home after so long.

S/P/N goes in for an immediate hug once she’s close enough and engulfs her little sister, squeezing the life out of her. He tries not to chuckle at the way Y/N groans—countless stories about their childhood together, about how close they were and unbreakable bonds and up until today Dean has never once met S/P/N, but he can’t help but find the way she treats her sister amusing.

The grin on her face is wide as she pulls away. “Look at you!” She says, eyes raking up and down Y/N’s face. “You’re so different now, oh my God!”

“Please don’t start with me, we only just got here.” The y/h/c-haired girl replies as she straightens out the creases in her skirt. Before she can even get another word out, her mother is at her side, an ambient smile gracing her face.

“Well, S/P/N’s not wrong.” Her voice is a deep baritone, husky and rich as she gives her daughter a kiss on the cheek then turns to the boys. And that’s when the anxiety comes flooding back.

A queasiness in his stomach, a twitch in his jaw—something basic and miniscule like breathing or blinking, something he does unconsciously, suddenly feels mechanical. Forced. But the elder Winchester masks it with an amiable smile, the corner’s of his eyes scrunching up. Y/N’s mother’s eyes then travel to his own and her face lights up. “Dean…”

“Marilyn…” He smiles.

They hug like their old friends, like this isn’t their third (fourth?) time meeting; that’s the kind of person Y/N’s mom is. Everyone is her friend. Everyone is adored company rather than a burden, and Dean can’t help but feel a bit intimidated by this level of kindness because God, could he pick a leaf.

Her face folds like dough when she simpers. “looking dapper as ever. Sam, don’t think I’ve forgotten you.”

S/P/N cuts in, earning the elder Winchester’s attention. “So you’re the esteemed-Dean, huh?” She asks, brown eyes scrutinizing him; despite being her blood, she looks nothing like Y/N. A few join similarities here courtesy of genetics and maybe some shared habits, but Dean knows Y/N enough that he’d be able to distinguish her if she even had a twin.

“Wow.” S/P/N turns to Y/N with a ribbing smile. “You really know how to pick ‘em.”

“Shut up.” Y/N rolls her eyes, but the pink-tint in her face is undeniable—so she’s nervous, too. Good. Someone has to be, he thinks. Maybe Y/N can take his place in this apprehensive state, salvage him from his feelings.

“The stories I’ve heard about you…” S/P/N says fondly. “Welcome. It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise. Your sister goes on and on about you.”


Dean’s expression then shows hwo taken abck he is at that very moment: his eyes widen a smidge and his brows quirk. Turning to Y/N, he asks, “Does she now?”

The young hunter’s face is a deep red as she shoots her sister a dangerous look, jaw clenched. “Really?”


Rolling her eyes, she then links her arm with his. “Come on, Dean. There’s still a ton of more people we have to meet.”She says  as she turns and strings him along with her. They scuttle aside, leaving Sam deeply invested in chatter with Marilyn as they venture into the crowd. Amused, the elder Winchester’s smirk doesn’t leave his face as they move.

He leans in, voice hushed. “So, you talk about me a lot, huh?”

“Shut up, Winchester.”

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes, either.”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Y/N then halts to a stop and whips around to face him, face constricted with irritation. Satisfaction floods Dean at the sight; pretending they’re in a relationship doesn’t mean abandoning his liking for razzing the young-girl. If anything, he reasons, it’s a catalyst.

“Dean,…”She warns, her voice as thin as ice. “I’m warning you…I’m not one to shy away from slapping you right in front of all these people?”

“You wouldn’t do that to your boyfriend…”Smirking, he goes to wrap his arms around her waist and pulls Y/N in, tipping his head down to look at her. Her expression then falters for a moment; her face falls and the fire in her eyes fades; but its brief, almost indiscernible, because seconds later her pout resurfaces.

Their bodies are flush together, her nimble waist caged in his hands, and Dean tries so hard to ignore the way the tips of his fingers heat up at the contact.

Instead, he chuckles and loosens his grip. Y/N manages to slip out as she rolls her eyes—even then, her blush is still evident.

“Come on…”She links Dean’s hand in hers, and leads him over to another table crowded with some cousins and aunts. The garden is dotted with various people, all smiling when they see her, all going in for hugs and pecks on the cheeks and all giving such sly smiles when Y/N says that Dean and her are dating. Some congratulate them, some, whom Dean has had the pleasure of meeting before like Y/N’s cousin Garth, hold a teasing glint in their eyes.

They talk to relatives and uncles and eerie aunts who, right in front of Y/N, try to hit on Dean. The garden is buzzing with life from all ends, music floating amongst chatter of guests, people dancing,  and as she talks more and more with old friends and relatives, he can see the young girl gradually unwinding.

Her smile, ever-present and as radiant as star, grows with each second, with each interaction. She’s mirthful. Happy. If that’s the case, Dean wonders, then why was she so reluctant about driving out to Boston? Why had Y/N shown the idea of coming out here such disdain?  The question swims in his mind, but that’s as far as it goes. Dean doesn’t bother asking. That’s not his focus now—his focus now is playing his part and helping her get through these two weeks without any setbacks, and so he allows himself the luxury of sitting back and indulging in the buffet with Y/N. Their earlier hunger returns with a vengeance once they spot the table lined with various foods.

They’re stacking piles of pastries onto their plates, when all of a sudden comes a voice.

“How did you two meet?” Uncle Gary, a burly bull trapped in a man’s body, inquires. He’s got hair as grey as the ash on his cigar, and each time he speaks, the thick mustache atop his lip wiggles like a caterpillar. His wife, Steph, stands by his side, eagerly staring and waiting for a response.

“Uhm..”Dean’s gaze slides to Y/N. She looks back at him, a brief horror flashing on her face. For a few seconds, they panic. Shit.“We met…”

“In the park!”

The elder Winchester, shocked, glances over at his girlfriend. She’s smiling at her uncle, her cool demeanor seamlessly in place. If you look hard enough, you can see the glint of pride in her eyes from just saving their asses.

Uncle Gary’s thick grey brows quirk curiously. “In the park?”

“Yeah…” Y/N affirms. “Well, by the park. I was, uh, walking my dog one morning when all of a sudden this car comes speeding out of nowhere as we’re crossing.” She casts cursory glance at Dean, who tries not to smile, both in appreciation and subtle arrogance.

“Yeah.” He supplements, earning the attention momentarily. It’s kind of funny how synchronal they are—a close call like that, teetering along the line between exposing themselves, but Y/N manages to redeem them, and Dean, like a dancer moving to the tune of her symphony, follows without a beat.

“See, I was on my way to work that morning. I was late, so you can imagine what a rush I was in, right? So there I am, cursing to myself as I speed down the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on my tie, when this fuzzy little poodle—“

“Jack Russell.” She corrects. “ He was a jack Russell.”

Dean raises his finger in benediction.  “Right, Jack Russell. So—all of a sudden, he jumps out onto the road and I’m in shock. “

“Luckily, with quick reflexes like Dean’s, he managed to swerve out of the way. He misses him. ” The young girl plays the role so earnestly, her furrowed brow and weary eyes expression selling her distress. “God, poor Kujo was shaking like a leaf. “

“So, Y/N, pissed as hell, tries waving me down. She’s running after my car until I finally pull over and she comes up to my window, and just starts exploding.” Dean’s eyes widen for emphasis, his hands waving in the air. It’s a known trait of his. Whenever telling story, to try and spice thing up or make them seem much more exciting than they actually are, the elder Winchester will flail around and pull faces, and Y/N won’t admit it, but she find it absolutely adorable.

“She’s going on about calling the cops and road rules and safety, but at that moment all I’m focusing on is how goddamn y/e/c her eyes are.” He explains. He doesn’t notice that, as soon as the words leave him, the young girl’s face flushes red. He goes on, says something more, something that makes Aunt Steph’s face fold and crease like cookie dough as she smiles, and then finishes off with a firm arm around her shoulder.

He gives it a firm squeeze, his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Long story short: I didn’t even show up for work in the end.”

“Wow.” Aunt Steph’s grey eyes go wide like planets. “Unconventional grounds indeed.”

“That story was a rollercoaster from start to finish! Loved it!” Uncle Gary, smile engulfing his face, slaps a friendly hand onto Dean’s shoulder who glances at Y/N.

The pair shares a confided glance, their pride shining in the way they smirk at each other. They’ve pulled it off.  

The elder Winchester offers a proud smile, fighting the urge to turn to his partner, to pull his lips back in a teasing smirk, for the smugness in his eyes to say I told you so, I told you the doggie hit-and-run would sell. Instead, however, he focuses on Uncle Gary telling him about his very own Terrier that nearly got hit by cyclist as she and her aunt wander off to the sidelines.

“Well, well, well…” Someone says from behind them.  Dean instinctively turns; his eyes meet with a pair of deep blue ones staring intently at him, at Y/N, a lopsided grin set onto the stranger’s face. His hair, a deep onyx, cascades down his neck to his shoulders. He’s dressed in a suit, very official, very formal, and it makes the elder Winchester’s stomach turn for a moment.

“Look who it is.” The stranger says.

Dean furrows his brow. “Excuse me?”


His head snaps in the Y/N’s direction, and his confusions swells even more when he sees the wide grin lacing the young girl’s face.

Her eyes trained on the stranger, she shakes her head slowly. “Oh my God.”

“Missed me?” The stranger smirks at her, then goes in for a hug.

Dean steps aside and out of the way, trying not to bump into the table and almost topples over a tray of croissants. He watches, bewildered, as the two exchange pleasantries. Y/N’s arms are slung around his neck, as she giggles then pulls away.

“Very much.” She smiles at him. “Wow. It’s been so long.”

“Hasn’t it?”


The elder Winchester, attention grasped, looks to her. She points at the blue-eyed man. “This is Rick—Rick Montoijia! He was my neighbor when I still lived my parents from, like, two houses down. Uhm, rick, this is my boyfriend, Dean.”

“Heya.” Rick stretches his hand out for a shake. Hesitating, Dean eyes it momentarily and then finally accepts the gesture.

“Hi….” His eyes scan the stranger’s face dubiously, his grip firm, trying to assert dominance. And all of a sudden, something has brewed in his chest.

Something hot and vehement in the space below his ribs; an energy, a sense of intimidation. It’s stupid to feel, yes, but Dean can’t help it—his chest floods with a jealousy as he lets go of the other man’s hand.

With an excited smile, Y/N addresses Rick. “What are you doing here? We—I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“S/P/N’s wedding.” He points to Y/N’s sisters standing a few meters away. “Obviously I knew you’d be in town for that. I figured,’ well, when was the last time I saw Y/N L/N?’ and here I am.”

“Here you are.” Dean cuts in.

All eyes shift to him. Y/N peers over Rick’s shoulder, trying to get a better glimpse, and the green-eyed hunter offers a strained smile; one far from genuine, something the young girl is obviously familiar with, because her smile begins to melt away at the sight. Dean doesn’t care. His gaze then shifts to Rick, whose smile is still smeared across his chiseled face.

“Uhm, yeah…”The dark-haired man laughs nervously. “Here I am. So…”His attention averts onto Y/N. “How long are you gonna be in town? We need to catch up.”

“Definitely. I’m here for—“

“We’re here—“

“—for two weeks. Yeah, we’re here for two weeks.” Y/N finishes, voice holding a dangerous edge to it. Dean chooses to ignore it, instead focusing on the way the dark-haired stranger’s face lights up with mirth.

“Wow. That’s great.”

“It really is, Rick. Anyhow, it was great meeting you, but we have to go.”


Dean doesn’t give her a chance to object as his hand goes to Y/N’s waist, and he nudges her forward, quickly trying to get away as fast as possible. Luckily, they succeed; standing behind them, Rick offers a weak, awkward goodbye as they move further away. In his chest, dean’s heart thrums rapidly, incessantly.

His jealousy boils like a hot stew, threatening to spill over, and he suffocates it; he’s being irrational. He’s being stupid. That guy is just one of Y/N’s many friends, he reasons. He’s just another familiar face from Boston, a ghost from her past, nothing too serious…

But the call to worry is stronger than reprimand for Dean.

When she notices his stiffness, Y/N turns to look at the elder Winchester. Concern swims in her y/e/c eyes. “You okay?”

Attention grasped, Dean turns to her, finds her imploring eyes set on him. They’re back inside, sitting with Sam and the bride and groom, and the band is playing some variation of Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight.

Trying to stifle his feelings, the elder Winchester regains composure, offering a tight-smile. “Oh, yeah.”

“Sure? You seem…absent. Like something’s bothering you.”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” He lets out a sigh. He tries to steady the quaking in his core, letting his gaze drift across the room. Y/N scoots closer in and rests her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickles his jaw.

“If you say so…”She says with sigh, her breath fanning against his skin. Her body is warm against his, like a tepid lava flowing down his skin, soothing, therapeutic almost.

“Good job back there with nearly killing my dog, by the way. Put on quite the show.”

The elder Winchester laughs. It’s soft and feint but she can feel it in the rumble of his body beneath her head.

“Yeah, well, what can I say—I’m a sucker for theatre.”

“Are you now?”

“Oh yeah, massive fan. Plus, anything to get my story told.” Dean senses it hanging in the air like a string suspended between them, a silent question. It’s quiet for moment.  He then tips his head to glimpse down at her, a smile playing at his lips.

“Say it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to.”

Y/N bites her smile back, a row of her chalky white teeth contrasting the burgundy on her lips, then lets it all bubble out. “Fine! You were right. Your good looks and charm won me over—there, are you happy?”

Dean doesn’t bother to try and mask his smile. “Extremely.”

“What’re you guys talking about?”

His head turns; S/P/N waddles over and pulls out a chair a few seats away, smiling as she sits down. She folds the pleats in her burgundy skirt over.

“Stuff.” Replies Y/N, head still draped against Dean’s shoulder.

“What kinda stuff?”

“Couple stuff. Dean and Y/N stuff. You wouldn’t understand.” She smirks; then Dean pokes her side and she lets out a giggle; it’s a sweet, quiet sound, like the hum of a bird or the wind wisping through the trees, and it makes the pit in the elder Winchester’s stomach from earlier yawn open.

As Y/N speaks with her sister, the elder Winchester feels a flood of melancholy coming on. He can always tell when it’s happening; it’s like watching everything around you happening at a normal pace when all of a sudden things are slowed down, sluggish, delayed. That’s what Dean feels like right now. He loathes it.

The evening is electric and dressed in a celebratory energy. More guests have arrived for the dinner, all pouring in in massive crowds and gaudy sartorial dresses. Dean has to stand when he greets them all, offering an amiable smile, the occasional hug and peck as they all fawn—oh my God, the Dean? Y/N’s Dean?

It gets annoying having to hear everybody so jubilant over meeting him, at a point. They’re excited to be meeting their sister’s boyfriend, their niece’s lover, the man whom she, too, shall bring back here to Boston in a few years to wed. To them, Dean assumes, meeting him is a gateway to another one of this sartorial dinners just a few years ahead.

To him, it’s plain insulting.

Why did he even agree to this? Playing pretend had seemed less tedious in his mind. Doing it now, the elder Winchester is wrought with negative emotions; with jealousies and blind resentments and a bitterness because he shall have anything but this future with Y/N, and God, is he pissed.

“Dean,” She says, pulling him from his reverie. Aunt Steph and good ol’ Gary sit across from them, sipping on some champagne and laughing with Y/N’s parents, and to their left is S/P/N and Japheth. Everyone is laughing and chatting and the air reeks of jubilance, except for the corner where a heavy grey cloud hangs over Dean’s head.

Y/N’s hand is on his as he turns to her, her y/e/c eyes trained intently on his. “What’s wrong?” She pries. He has to say something. Lying would only act as a catalyst for his negative emotions (lying to Y/N, at least). So, instead, Dean heaves a heavy breaths and gathers the feelings in his chest into a single nest.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He says. “I’m just trying to let this all sink in. Your family. It’s pretty overwhelming meeting all the people in your life who mean the world to you.”

“I’m sorry if this isn’t how you planned to spend the next two weeks, Dean.” Y/N’s gaze falters, moving to their hands loosely draped over each other.  

Dean’s eyes follow. He shrugs and, taking her hand in his, slowly links them together absentmindedly. Their fingers fit perfectly, like a key slipping into a lock, like a tight knot, and he tries to ignore it.

“Don’t be, Y/N.” He replies. “Besides—I’m the one who offered this in the first place. I don’t really have the luxury of complaining.”

“Should I give it to you?”

“Keep it.”


When Dean finally looks up, he finds Y/N’s eyes trained on him, her lips pulled back in pleasant smile. In the background, the music slows to a stop as it shifts to the next song. More upbeat, more jazzy and fun. The room’s chatter provides the perfect undertone, but Dean ignores it—all of it, because all he can focus on right now is Y/N.

His Y/N. For tonight, for two weeks.


He’ll take what he can get, even if it’s having the honor of playing her boyfriend for a period of time and then going back to being just her best-friend; to being her Dean and not her Dean.  Going back to a life where she sees their relationship, although intense, as nothing more than a deep friendship.

It’s only been a few hours, but it’s crazy how much can be revealed to you in such a span of time. Dean sees it now—sees Y/N and, even if he didn’t think it possible, even more of her than he already has. He sees Y/N in her element, with her family, with her friends and with a sense of mirth radiating off her…And as great as it is, all it does for him is nudge at the thought that he shall never be part of that.

They mean a lot to each other, he knows that much, but today has made him wonder if he will ever be part of Y/N’s suburban life, whether he’ll breach past their life spent in the bunker and in pages of lore and into that which holds this very idyllic essence.

The thought, daunting and unfortunately saddening, hits the elder Winchester like a ton of bricks. He immediately turns away. He rests his focus on something—anything—that isn’t Y/N smiling at him and causing an uproar in the space behind his heart.

The night simmers on, laced with laughter and chatter and smiles too bright for Dean to bare. He only watches from the sidelines, an observer, a spectator…Y/N is the center of the orbit that is the eclectic crowd. She smiles and the entire room responds with an abundance of simpers; her laugh is a mellifluous symphony overpowering the music, her eyes glint like the stars in the sky and she throws her head back and captivates the attention of everyone in the room. She reels them all in like a magnet, like she’s magic…

And to Dean she is…

She always has been and always will be. She is ethereal and glimmering and inside her is a flame and a tornado and such vehemence that would tear a mere mortal apart, but doesn’t even scratch her skin the slightest.

Y/N is magic and she will always be magic, and Dean knows this. He wishes he didn’t, but he does, and it hurts…Because the hollowness in his chest that comes from watching her so radiant makes him wonder why he said yes to the torture of being just another planet in her orbit in the first place…


The list is exceedingly long, but what stands out predominantly on the account of things they were meant to discuss before they left home (but didn’t), is the sleeping arrangement.

Standing in their hotel bedroom, the elder Winchester stares at the single bed, at the six fat pillows nested at the head and the vast comforter definitely two huge for two. It’s a lover’s suit; of course the hotel would be expecting customer’s to be doing anything but sleeping in these sheets, but Dean’s case is the exception.

Y/N is in the bathroom getting ready for bed. The sound of the shower running echoes throughout the otherwise silent room and the elder Winchester feels a small welt of nervousness claw at his belly. They’ve shared beds before. This shouldn’t be a big deal…


God, he’s acting like a teenage boy with this. It’s not that hard, Dean tells himself. They can even divide it into two regions if they want, Y/N’s, and then the extremely comfy one with the extra pillow for him. They can sort this out. It doesn’t have to be awkward, eh tries to reason, but something tugs at his gut and tells him otherwise, because Dean feels all sorts of anxious.

Maybe it’s the thought of lying to sleep with her after the mortal sin they’ve just committed throughout the day: fraud. Artifice. Maybe, Dean thinks, it’s the fact that they’ll have to pretend to be together even as they lay to sleep that terrifies him maybe it’s the lover’s suit. He and Y/N are anything but. All the times they’ve slept in the same bed in the past, it’s been in dingy, itchy, sketchy motels, not five stars hotels that probably provide complimentary condoms.

He lifts the thick blanket on the bed and crawls under it, trying to get comfortable. The bed is cloud, embracing him, engulfing him into its form like it’s an amoeba and him its prey. God, this is comfy. Dean’s eyes flutter and he tips his head back in subtle ecstasy.

Right at that moment, the door to the bathroom swings open.

Y/N stomps out in pajama shorts and a towel clasped tightly to her chest, eyes wide as she glimpses around the room. Opening his eyes, Dean then ctaches her gaze.

“Sorry.” She apologizes and points to her beg at the foot of the bed. “I just need my shirt from my suitcase. Don’t look!”

“No promises.” But he doesn’t, instead covering his eyes with one hand. He hears the patter of feet and the rustling of clothes as Y/N retrieves the garment, then rushes back into the bathroom. When she returns, a moment later, this time she’s fully clothed.

“The pressure here is ace.” Y/N says, holding her fingers up in an appropriate gesture as she saunters towards the bed. She hauls her bag off and onto the floor, then climbs up, pushing the blanket aside.

“I can’t remember the last time I took a shower and didn’t want to get out.”

Dean lowers his hand and looks at her; hair wet and clinging to her skin, her face is bare, all the makeup from today washed away into the drain. A few pimples dot the surface of her cheeks and, although feint, there’s a single splatter of freckles just below her jaw line that Dean always finds himself admiring.

“That’s good to know. In other news: the sleeping arrangement. How’s this gonna work?”

“You mean top or bottom?”

“Grow up.”

Y/N’s grin never falters as she laughs. “I don’t really mind, Dean. If it bothers you, you could always take the floor.”

“I never said it bothers me…”

“Does it?”

Her eyes are staring intently into his and he’s trying too damn hard to not get caught up in them. He shouldn’t. the moment is far from appropriate. She’s basically telling him to get out of the bed and spend the night on the floor like a hound, and heaven be damned if Dean is going to let himself focus on anything but defending himself.

So he tips his head back slightly, locks his eyes on hers, and says, “Not at all.”

“Then goodnight, Winchester.” Y/N smiles, before turning the night-light off and wiggling further under the blanket.

Dean mirrors her. He slides beneath it, letting it came up to his chest and closes his eyes. He can feel the steady beat of his heart, the pulse of his blood. Sleep hovers over him like a phantom but never once dares to preside.

Minutes pass and he’s still awake. The elder Winchester fidgets, turning on his side, eyes meeting the bright glare of the moonlight invading the room. He checks his watch on the bedside table. Two am. Still up. His eyelids feel heavy and a yawn pries his mouth open, but Dean can’t sleep, and it’s an insomnia, the worst kind of insomnia, that he’s too familiar with.

He’s dabbled in it in the past; with the mark of cain and in purgatory. When he was demon, when Sam was soulless and when Cas was presumed dead. Dean knows this plague, greets it like an old friend, doesn’t even bother fighting it, but there’s no denying that it’s annoying. He wants rest—needs it. The last thing he needs right now is a visit from this phantom that keeps him up, staring at the blank ceiling.

A few seconds subside when silence is broken by hushed voice.

“Dean ar—you’re awake?” Y/N rolls over, her droopy eyes meeting his.

The elder Winchester nods silently. His eyes burn.

“How come?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You don’t know why you can’t sleep?”

“That’s what I just said.”

The sheets shift. Y/N props herself up on her elbow, looking at him, her eyes still swimming with sleep. He wonders what woke her, but remains silent as he turns to meet her gaze.

Y/N’s eyes are somber and intently set on him; there’s a weight on her heart for a moment, something that visibly bring out the worry in her gaze. “Nightmares?”

She’s been with him through all of them; all those times mentioned, all those calamites in his life, Y/N has walked through them with Dean. Consequently, she can tell when something’s up. It’s comforting for Dean to know that’s she’s so in sync with him, that they’ve got this visceral connection that alerts her when something’s up, but unfortunately now it’s a bit of a false alarm.

He shakes his head. “No. Just can’t sleep.”

“Oh…” She voices simply and within a moment the solemnity fades. Then comes the sound of the sheets shifting, Y/N sitting up and she turns on the nightlight. The warm light right away glares onto the side of his face. Dean squints, lolling his head to the side.

Y/N’s hair dangles around her face as she looks at him. “Anything I can do to help? Get a glass of water, sing you a lullaby?”

“Rock me to sleep?” He supplements.

She shrugs. “Anything.”

Then, chuckling, elder Winchester turns away and allows his gaze to float back to the ceiling. y/N continues to speak in the background, going on about the day and tomorrow and how everything’s going to go down so that everything turns out as planned. She’s notified Sam already, apparently. Unlike Dean, he won’t have to do much besides be himself and distract Marilyn for the weekend…

But for Dean, Y/N proclaims, it’s going to be a long two weeks: he’s going to have to do a lot more than he’d anticipated; more work, more fraud. For the following days he must wear his disguise as though it is anything but…and the funny thing? Dean knows it’s going to be elementary…

Because they can only get so much closer.

Because they, before today, already spent nights in bed chatting about everything and anything that came to mind; because he already used to walk inches close to her and comb his fingers through her hair and laugh and feel (God, did he feel), and so maybe this is going to be a walk in the park. Maybe it will be easy, Dean thinks—until he’s reminded of earlier at dinner and the gaping hole in his chest.


Part 4

If you enjoyed this, feel free to like, reblog and follow for updates, as well as to read some of my other oneshots. Thank you for the support <3

quantitatitivity  asked:

Hi Ana! I saw you're taking prompts so I was wondering if you could do "quit it or i'll bite" or "don't even think about it" for Sterek for the five word prompt thing? Much appreciated! <3

I mixed both, woo!


“Don’t even think about it.” Derek warns, slapping Scott’s hand away.

Scott yelps, gazes at the cake sadly. “But I wanna –” he starts to move his hand again and snorts when Derek turns to glare at him.

“Quit it or I’ll bite your finger off.”

Scott huffs. “I don’t know why he’s marrying you, you’re awful.”

Derek rolls his eyes, finishes frosting the cake and turns to put it in the fridge. “He’s not marrying me.” He says. Hopefully, Stiles will. “Can’t you see the cake? I still have to propose.”

Duh.” Scott rolls his eyes, turns to the sink and begins washing the dishes. That’s what he’s here for, Derek stressed earlier (’You can’t bake and your writing is shit, I don’t want this cake ruined!’, ‘Rude!’). “As if he would.”

Derek collapses on a chair, buries his face in his hands. “I – what if he does?”

“Stop that.” Scott throws water at him. “You just bought a house together and Stiles says he loves you every day –”

That is true and it warms Derek’s heart a little but it does nothing to calm his nerves. It’s a huge commitment and – what if the proposal isn’t good enough? Derek is not the most romantic person and although Stiles isn’t a romantic person himself, he still brings flowers every other day, and he texts Derek memes all the time and – and he deserves everything. “Yeah, but –”

“I wasn’t finished!” Scott yells, dropping the dishes and turning to stare at Derek. “You spent the entire day baking his favorite cake, you have rose petals all over your bed and you wrote a speech!” Derek opens his mouth to ask how Scott knows about the speech but closes it quickly when Scott shushes him. “It’s obvious you’d have a speech.” He points out. “What I’m trying to say is – Stiles will say yes no matter what.”

“Thanks.” Derek says, gruffly. “Sometimes you’re nice.”

“I’m always nice.” Scott protests, turning to look at his phone when it signals a new text. “Ah, Allison said he’s coming home!”

Derek jumps, the things aren’t ready yet! The dishes are still dirty, he’s forgotten to light the candles and – “Go, go.” Scott is still here. He begins pushing Scott towards the door at the same time he takes a look at himself and realizes his pants are dirty with chocolate.

This is going to be worst proposal ever.

Stiles parks the car just as Derek is finishing putting a clean shirt on. He runs downstairs, trips over a stray shoe and curses himself for not remembering to clean the house. He opens the fridge, takes the cake out and places it on top of the table. Yeah, okay, he checks the candles, maybe this will actually work. When Stiles walks in the house, yelling a 'I’m home’ Derek realizes he forgot the rings.

“Don’t move!” Derek yells, running to the living room.

Stiles takes in Derek’s clothes, looks around at the candles and arches an eyebrow. “What.”

“I forgot something.” He starts walking backwards towards the stairs. “But you’re not allowed to move.”

“Ever?” Stiles smirks.

Derek huffs. And he seriously wants to marry this asshole. “Shut up.” He says. “I’ll be right back.”

“Fine.” Stiles concedes. “Am I at least allowed to take my shoes off?”

“Yes, whatever, just – don’t go in the kitchen.” He runs to their bedroom as quickly as possible, grabs the ring from his nightstand and when he comes back, Stiles is exactly where he left him. “Thank you.” He sighs, smiling when Stiles shrugs like it’s nothing, like he’d do whatever Derek asks him to without questioning.

Derek really loves him, and that’s when he realizes that is the only important thing. Stiles loves him, Derek loves Stiles. It’s all he needs. “Will you marry me?” He blurts out, realizes he actually doesn’t care how it’s done, as long as Stiles is the one he’s asking.

“I knew it.” Stiles smiles brightly, the same way he did when Derek asked him out the first time, and then when they decided to move in together. “You were preparing something in the kitchen, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Derek admits, rests his hands on Stiles’ waist as Stiles circles Derek’s neck with his. “You just ruined it.”

“Me?” Stiles laughs. “How?”

“By being you.” Derek whispers. “I love you.”

Stiles flicks Derek’s ear fondly. “I love you too.” He says back easily, like he did this morning and all the previous mornings for the past four years. “And I will marry you. You didn’t even have to ask.”

Derek kisses him, then, wonders how could he have doubted Stiles would say yes, his love is clear in his eyes and in his kisses, in the life they built together.

Turns out the cake wasn’t necessary, but they have fun eating it in bed a couple of hours later.

maerynn-blog  asked:

Oh! Either “I think your perfect. Even with your flaws, you’re nothing but perfect.” Adrienette postreveal or “Fuck it - do you wanna get married?” Marichat!

Enjoy and thanks for the prompt, @maerynn-blog! <3

“I think you’re perfect,” Marinette pressed her lips to the scar on the back of Adrien’s left shoulder where he had blocked an akuma from running Ladybug through with a sword. “Even with your flaws, you’re nothing but perfect.” She moved and kissed the raised white skin along the top of his spine.

“I’m not perfect,” he murmured, head hanging forward to give her more access to the back of his neck. 

“Perfectly imperfect then,” she smiled against his skin. She ran her fingers up his bare sides lightly. “I love your body. I love every single bit of it.”

“I’m not as…” He trailed off, chuckling bitterly. “No one’s asking to take my picture much now, are they?”

Marinette moved to the front of him, hands never breaking contact with his skin. She smoothed her palms up his chest, fingertips brushing delicately along the criss-cross of scars from the akuma who had tried to cut out his heart so many years ago. She traced the healed wound on his lower abdomen from a blow he had taken to protect her when they were much younger than they were now. She looked up into his eyes then, fingers still gently stroking.

“Every mark, every scar, is a reminder of how much you love me.” Marinette moved one hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb rubbing against the scar along his jaw.

“I do love you,” he whispered, tilting into her touch.

“I know you do, my sweet kitty.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to the scar bisecting his right eyebrow. “I love you too, every last bit of you.”

Prompt List :)

Buy Me a Coffee? <3

Love Song Sentence Starters


Can’t Sleep Love-

  • “Tell me, am I going crazy?”
  • “Tell me, have I lost my mind?”
  • “Am I just afraid of loving, or am I not the loving kind?”
  • “Kissing in the moonlight, movies on a late night… It’s getting old.”
  • “Been there done that it’s supposed to be hot but it’s just cold.”
  • “Wake up my heart, set fire to my soul.”
  • “Gimme that can’t sleep love, the kind I dream about all day, the kind that keeps me up all night.”
  • “Maybe I’m too picky, Honey, but I’m not in it for the money.”
  • “I’m here looking for the real thing.”
  • “I’m tired of dreaming of no one.”
  • “I need some body next to mine.”
  • “I want that can’t sleep love.”

I’m Yours-

  • “I tried to chill but you’re so hot that I melted.”
  • “I can’t wait, I’m yours.”
  • “Open up your mind and see like me.”
  • “Look into your heart and you’ll find love.”
  • “We’re just one big family.”
  • “There’s no need to complicate.”
  • “Our time is short, this is our fate so I’m yours.”
  • “Scooch a little closer dear and I’ll nibble your ear~”
  • “Our name is our virtue.”
  • “Baby, do you believe I’m yours?”
  • “You best believe I’m yours.”

Check Yes Juliet-

  • “I won’t go, until you come outside.”
  • “Check yes, _____!”
  • “I’ll keep throwing rocks at your window.”
  • “There’s no turning back for us tonight.”
  • “Run baby run! Don’t ever look back!”
  • “Don’t sell your heart.”
  • “Don’t say we’re not meant to be”
  • “Forever we’ll be you and me.”
  • “3, 2, 1, now fall in my arms now.”
  • “I’ll be waiting. Wishing, wanting yours for the taking.”

Marry You-

  • “Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you.”
  • “Well I know this little chapel on the boulevard we can go.”
  • “Who cares if we trashed, got a pocket full of cash we could blow.”
  • “It’s on, girl.”
  • “Let’s just run girl.”
  • “If we wake up and you wanna break up that’s cool.”
  • “It was fun, girl.”
  • “Just say I do!”
  • “I think I wanna marry you!”

Suit and Tie-

  • “I can’t wait to get you on the floor, good looking.”
  • “You’re so hot, just like an oven.”
  • “You’re nothing but a little doozie when you do it.”
  • “Let me show you a few things.”
  • “Now we’re in the swing of love~”
  • “Stop, lemme get a good look at it.”
  • “I’ll show you how to do this, hun.”
A Post-Breakup Story (4/5).

Prompt: A Post-Breakup Story.

Word Count: 850.

Warnings: Nope.

A/N: Sorry for not updating any of my fics, but I’m currently working on the final part so it will be up soon.

Previous Part - Next Part.

Originally posted by haidaspicciare

Sweat covered her forehead as she trashed on the king size bed, her spastic movements waking up the man that shared the bed with her these days. His hands were placed rather quickly in her face, cupping the sticky face while shushing peaceful words in hopes to stop her actions. However, the tenderness in his body and voice didn’t have the desired effect but the opposite as (Y/N) became more agitated, fighting ghosts that haunted her in her dream world.

The horrors lived in a past life always came to taunt her whenever she was in a positive stage of her life, not whenever everything around was crumbling but rather whenever she was fully happy. She scoffed in her dreams as the action trespassed to the real world, tears falling down her cheeks as waterfalls let the waterfall after the melting of the glaciers up in the white mountains.

Keep reading

I Think I Wanna Marry You (Part 6)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: none.

Summary: It’s getting harder for the both of them to act like they don’t feel anything less than in love.

Read the previous parts here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Dedicated to: @scamanders26newtcase , @julibelen , @mayainneverland , @the-rain-pours-down ,

If I forgot to tag you, I apologize; don’t be shy to inbox me and let me know, and I’ll be sure to in the next part.


When they get back to the hotel, it’s like there hadn’t been any fight to begin with. They enter the building arms linked and smiling and giggling and behind them trail Castiel and Sam, faces adorned with furtive smiles that tell just how much they know.

(Because they do.)

(Even if Dean and Y/N don’t yet…)

They go through the lounge and then out onto the patio where (most of) the family buzzes around. Marilyn speeds left and right, asking about the flower decorations and when the arch will be there while the bride-to-be, eyes trained on a piece of paper in her hands, stands at the sidelines, mumbling—most likely reciting her vows, Dean reasons.

They say their hellos briefly and then head upstairs to change, returning at a few minutes to six to offer whatever help they can.

“Oh, thank God, some muscle.” Marilyn sighs with relief as her eyes skitter from Sam’s face to Cas’. “Could you guys help them carry in the calendulas? You can just put them here.” She points to one of the empty tables, and Sam gives a curt nod, before heading off.

“And us?” Y/N asks.

“Uhmmm…” Her mother whips back around, then, furrowing her brow, takes moment to think. Dean waits, hoping she says there’s nothing left to do because after the day he’s had, all he wants is to put his feet up and blow off some steam.

But his wish isn’t granted. Eyes widening in realization, Marilyn perks up with an idea, guiding them down to the pond where Rick and some of Y/N;s cousins are setting up the tikki torches.

Reflected in the calm waters, the glimmer of the flames is bright and rapid, tails of fire growing higher and higher and then smaller as the winds course through the air.

“Here.” Picking up two stray lighters, the elder Woman hands them to the pair. “Get started.”

And then she’s off.

Sharing curious glances for a second, Y/N and Dean twiddle with the lighters in their hands. They haven’t got much time left and so they begin.

The torches stretch past the pond and into the garden where the reception will be held, but even when they’re done lighting them up, there’s the lanterns on the steps. Then the candles. Then, just when Dean, exhausted from running left and right, is about to sit down for a breather, the fly-away lantern.

“The what?” He asks breathlessly, hunched over on one of the steps.

Y/N tries not to roll her eyes (but fails, because come on..). “The fly-away lantern.” She says. “The one that we’re gonna set off into the sky when the reception ends. They want to test it now to avoid any accidents this weekend.”

“Accidents like what? Setting fire to the clouds?”

“Shut up and come help me.” Ignoring his moans of objection, Y/N hauls her friend up onto his feet, giggling, and leads him over to the spot where the lantern is set. There are a couple of people fooling around near it, Rick and his posse smiling and passing it to each other like it’s a balloon before she grabs it mid-air.

She sets it down, rolling her eyes and gets out her lighter. “I can’t leave you boys alone for a minute, can I?”

“You have all these macho men to help you out, what do you need me for?” Grumbling, Dean crosses his arms over his chest like a child.

“None of these macho men is my boyfriend.”

“I could volunteer to be replacement.” Rick teases.

“Not so fast, buddy.” And Dean, stepping in right in front of him, almost growls even if he knows it’s just a joke.

(This whole thing, in a way, is.)

First, Y/N pins her hair up in a sloppy bun to keep it from getting caught in the flame. The wind tickles the exposed nape of her neck, sending a shock through her and coating it in gooseflesh. It’s dangerous, Dean presumes, to be setting off an almost-literal ball of fire into the sky when the winds are so violent, but it’s Y/N. Trusting her word is as good as trusting his own.

She flicks the lighter on. Casting her eyes up at him, she beckons the elder Winchester over.

“Dean, hold it up for me, will you? Yeah, like that. Okay, don’t let go, I’m lighting it.”

“Looks like someone’s a little pyro.”

“Shut up. Dean, now.”

The elder Winchester’s fingers uncurl and everyone takes a step back, watching as the lantern, gleaming like a ball of fire, slips from their hold and soon begins to rise.

Dean watches it, entranced, a bit surprised actually because it looks a lot better than he thought it would. His initial fear of it backfiring dissipates like fog. His eyes follow the lantern floating higher and higher, moving with the breeze, dancing almost and he doesn’t want t look away lest he miss any more of its enchantment….

But he can’t help his gaze from flickering to Y/N.

Y/N, smiling, head tipped back and staring up at it like a child. Her eyes are squinted as she laughs triumphantly, tenderly, and Dean’s heart leaps in his chest for the hundredth time today. The rest of the family is gathering around to watch their success, all cheers and rapture and trying to set off some more just for the hell of it. Sam and Cas are back, too. Sam and Cas, Dean realizes, are setting off their very own lantern as well, and it takes him a moment to realize that they are calling him to join in on the fun.

And within two minutes, there are about twelve balls of fire dotting the sky, floating past the clouds and into the heavens.

They set the night ablaze with their success with the lanterns, infecting everyone around with a twin triumph and energy that comes the win and then move on to helping string the fairy lights across the garden. Y/N holds the ladder in place for him and tries not to laugh every time Dean complains she stop shaking it. When they finish their sector, they move on to picking up the cake, arranging the flowers and by the end of the night their hands are blistered and calloused from a day’s work.

Later in the night Dean sits on the edge of the bed, kneading his sore palms together and grimacing. His limbs feel disjointed and his back hurts and if he thought being mauled by a werewolf was the most pain he’s endured then, this day has come a close second. (Even if he’s too stubborn to admit that to a taunting Y/N).

“You look like crap.” She struts out of the bathroom with her pajamas on and a towel turbaned around her head. Dean rolls his eyes, trying not to show how much the mattress dipping from her weight makes his spine tingle.

“And I’m assuming you feel worse.”

“You assume right.”

“We made it, Dean.”  And then there’s that somber air hanging between them.

He wants to turn to meet her gaze, to look into the pools of y/e/c he assumes are glinting like stars with joy, but the excruciating pain in his neck won’t let him.

Keeping his back to her, the elder Winchester instead shuts his eyes and lets his breathing even. The room is silent for a moment. Feint music, the roar of Marilyn shouting instructions on where to set what. Dean tires not to laugh. Y/N really is her mother’s daughter….

“Something wrong?” Scooting closer to the edge of the bed, she tips her head to the side.

Shaking his head, the elder Winchester lets out a sigh. “Just tired.” He explains. She watches him, patient, biting her bottom lip between her teeth in contemplation.

He hopes she can’t see through the façade—but hoping is as far as his requests go, as the young girl straightens out, alert, and trains her eyes on him.


“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t do this, okay? We just made up a few hours ago and I’m not ready for another—“

“I’m not doing anything—Y/N…”Within the flash of second, Dean whips around to face his friend, a tired, almost sympathetic smile etched in his face and takes her hand into his. It’s warm, flax. Y/N stills for a moment and the green-eyed hunter takes it as his chance to shift and move a little bit closer. Just close enough to see the wave of red that flushes her cheeks and then disappears. (You’d think by now they’d be past the coyness).

Her hand feels endlessly warm in his. They’ve been down this road before. So many times—within this past two weeks and within the past few months it is then that Dean is finally tired of the tip-toeing. Tired, but…not ready to do anything about it. Not yet.

Realizing the shift in atmosphere, the elder Winchester gulps and slowly releases her hand. He must be imagining it—the glint of disappointment that flashes across Y/N’s face. Because within a second, she straightens her back and clears her throat.

There’s an awkward, almost sad smile on her face. Almost embarrassed, this time it’s his turn to mask his emotions of hurt when he realizes this.

When the air is almost too painfully awkward, he clears his throat and gives a half-assed, definitely not hurt, definitely earnest chuckle as he turns his back.

“Man, sorry…” Wiping a hand down his face, he apologizes. “I’m just tired. Really, really tired. Wow. Uhm—do you want the bed tonight?” He glances over his shoulder.

Y/N fumbles and then finally gathers herself enough to fervently shake her head. “Uhm, no…it’s fine.” Comes a strained laugh. “I could go spend the night in Sam and Cas’ room. You get your rest.”

“I f you wanna stay then—“

“Dean…” And there’s that hand again on his shoulder as Y/N, shaking her head, expression dressed in just as much exhaustion, stares at him. At this point, they’re back to normal; to colleagues and best friends who read each other like a book. He can see in her eyes she knows just how tired he is.

Eyes sliding over his face, she gives his arm a little squeeze. “Rest.” She says.


Stricken by her spell, the only thing the elder Winchester can do is swallow, nod wordlessly and watch as she pecks a light kiss on his forehead and then leaves the room. When the door clicks shut, echoing in the graveyard silent room, he lets out a breath.


Y/N doesn’t want to sleep in Sam and Cas’ room. She doesn’t want to be any more than six feet away from Dean, but at the moment that seems the best decision for everyone. For her, for him—right now, they are two raging tornadoes hurtling towards each other, and the only way to avoid having a colossal catastrophe is to let them rage on their own.

When she gets to the room, she knocks gingerly on the door and within a few seconds Sam opens up.

“Hi, roomie.” She greets, smiling as she sidesteps into the room. Cas is there, sitting in a chair and reading a travel guide from the night stand and he greets her with a curt nod, barely looking up to meet her eyes. Y/N throws herself onto the bed with an oomph.

“Another fight?” Sam asks as he settles down at the foot of the bed.

She shakes her head against the castle of pillows, then grabs another and props it behind her head. “No. He just needs his beauty sleep so I let him have it in the form of our bed.”

“I thought it’s big enough for the two of you…I mean, you guys never mind rooming on a hunt.”

“This isn’t a hunt, now is it?”

“Apparently not.” he answers. “I’ve been doing some digging since we got here, actually. Looks like Boston is pretty monster-free.”

“Have you seriously been looking for a case while we’re at a wedding?” Y/N asked, amused. Smiling, Sam gets up and moves over to the desk where his laptop sits open.

“The wedding’s after tomorrow.”


The younger hunter looks up, eyes curious and calm, and Y/N takes in a deep breath.

“You…” She struggles for the words that so desperately cling to the floor of his belly, anxious. Sitting up, the sheets crumple and ruffle with her movements and she grips one of the pillows to her chest like it will somehow ease her nerves. Pauses. Deep breaths. Rapid heartbeat. She tries again.

“You know about…Dean, and…I—don’t you?”



At this point, even Cas has tuned in, his book carefully rested in his lap. Staring at the younger Winchester, she can feel sweat bead at the nape of her neck.

“Oh, God, this is so awkward.” Y/N groans as she buries her face in the pillow. Her cheeks and ears feel hot, but at least she’s gotten the wheel rolling with this, at least they’re in motion.

But then, out of the sudden silence, she hears the quiet titter of Sam’s laugh. Shooting up to sit, she looks at him. Her eyes bounce from him to Cas whom she finds has a twin smirk on his lips, and Y/N’s eyes narrow.

The younger Winchester notices this and stifles his laughs, holding a fist to his mouth. “Sorry, Y/N, it’s just uhm…” His eyes lift to her and he’s still smiling. “…I knew a long time ago. Probably before even you did.”


“We both did.” He gestures to Cas. “It’s kind of…. Hard not to.”

The angel nods, not lifting his gaze as he flips to the next page.You and Dean are quite inseparable.”

“And intolerable.”

“And infatuated, clearly, with each other.”

“It’s only been a matter of time before you guys found out. That’s why I actually, uhm, called Cas up this week to come here. So that we could…”Sam’s voice dies away and he averts his eyes to something else, scratching his head, and it’s obvious, and strange, and Y/N, arms still firmly coiled around her pillow feels like a child whose parents have just broken the Santa-news to them.

Sam knows. And Cas knows.


“And Dean?” She can’t help but ask, not even bothering to hide the eager tone of her voice.

Exchanging looks, the two are quiet for a moment. The air in the room stills and no one says anything. When no reply comes, she can feel the edges of her nerves fray more and more.

“Sam,” An admonishing tone drips from tongue. “And what about Dean? Does he know?”

“Not…entirely. Okay, look,” Sighing, he then crosses the room, perching himself down beside her. She glares him down as he sits clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.

“It’s hard to explain all this.”He states calmly

Her voice thin and almost cracking, Y/N’s eyes bore into his.“So this whole thing is one-sided?”

“What? No.”

“Dean does care about you, Y/N.” Cas supplements from his chair, his attention for his book long gone and now focused on them. “Immensely.”

“He’s in love with you.”


Sam bites his tongue and Y/N, gaping with wide-eyes, tries to gather the wind that has just been knocked out of her with his words. The world, just for split second, halts its movements and they are frozen,caught in a stand still of time and space and she



But before the younger Winchester can get a word out, there comes a knock on the door, drawing the attention away as Cas rises. When he swings the door open, Y/N isn’t surprised to see that it’s Dean.

With wet hair tousled in every which way, it’s obvious he has just showered and gotten ready for bed, already clad in some sweatpants and an old T-shirt. Gulping thickly, Y/N catches his eyes through the crack in the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Uhm, yes, sure.” The angel steps aside and in saunters the elder Winchester. When she looks at him, Y/N can see that, even if it might be miniscule, a bit fo tension has been washed away. Dean looks more tamed, more like himself as his lips form a smirk.

“Am I interrupting your slumber party?”

“You’re right in time.” The younger Winchester stands. “We were just about to braid each other’s hair.”

He laughs. “Oh, joy.”

“Beer?” Grabbing one of the cans on the table, Sam wiggles at his brother, smiling.

“Ice-cold, please.”

He tosses it to Dean and snapping it open, the elder Winchester takes a heavy sip, eyes fluttering shut.

Watching him, the coil in Y/N’s gut only tightens. She tries to make conversation, tries to laugh at his jokes, tries to act like she doesn’t notice that he’s a lot better now because even that feels too inconspicuous after what Sam just revealed, doesn’t it? Too suspicious? Maybe not. She’s tired and weary and after their second beer, Y/N gets up and decides to head back to spend the night in their room.

She splashes some water onto her face, cards her fingers through her hair and then crawl into bed. They don’t say anything to each other; not a goodnight or sweet dreams, but after the day they’ve had, the comfortable silence of the night is enough of an intimacy, especially when Y/N feels a hand slither beneath the blanket and lace with hers.



It’s a lot easier now that they’ve made up. Less tedious planning out their trips to fittings and rehearsals, definitely not as awkward as it once was, and Dean is definitely grateful that the entire wave of conflict between him and Y/N has blown over. It’s easier, now, for all of them; friends and family alike as they no longer have to pry either of them with questions of the other’s whereabouts…It’s easier now for Dean to let himself fall more and more in love with Y/N.

No strife nor resentment. They are yet again on the same page, and for him to say it feels like anything less than a great pleasure would be ridiculous.

Friday morning greets them with clear skies and warm sun, everything ripe and plump with color as they head into town for another fitting. Dean doesn’t stop mentioning this—the potent harmony—to Sam while they’re standing in the tailoring shop with Cas, arms raised up as they take the measurements round their waists because by God, he just can’t not ramble on about it.

Keeping as still as he can, the elder Winchester smiles subtly at his brother. “TGIF. I can’t wait for tonight.”

“I can see.” Sam chuckles in response, before a sly smirk forms on his lips. “ I see making up’s made you giddy nonstop, huh?”

“Giddy? I’m not giddy.”

“Dude, you were singing along to the radio today. Billboard one hundred.”

“Are we all getting suits for tonight or is dressing formal optional?” Castiel pipes up, earning the attention of both hunters as they turn to him standing by the mannequins, fingers trailing along the lapels. Brow knitted, the angel’s gaze bounces between the two.

“Well, I guess you can wear what you want. Thinking of sporting the trench-coat?” Sam prompts.

“Please don’t.” Dean shimmies his shoulders so that the jacket falls properly over his frame as he takes a look in the mirror. “Y/N wants us looking dapper as ever and that thing is…well..”

“Ragged. Yes, I know.” Cas answers plainly. With a sigh, he pivots around, sizing up one of the displays. It’s deep navy with a light, almost pastel marigold tie, and he sucks in a breath. “I’ll find a suit. Hopefully something—as Dean so put it—dapper.”

“’Atta’ boy.”

“Cas, pass me that silver tie, will you?” Sam asks. The angel tosses it to him and the younger Winchester quickly fixes it into place, eyes trained on his very own reflection.

When they’re done with suits, it’s onto picking up the minister from out of town and bringing him back to the hotel. Long drives and even longer conversations where Dean, for seemingly the first time does not mind  talking about how beautiful Boston is. Reverend Loyd was born here but moved away upon taking his oath, he tells them and the elder Winchester listens the entire drive, a content smile etched into his face.

(Because maybe he is giddy after all.)


The entire floor is filled with the sound of Donkeyboy blaring through the halls as Y/N gets ready.

Curling her hair, getting out her clothes, makeup. It’s the rehearsal tonight and, as declared by her elder sister, she’s going to have to look elegant and pleasant while retaining the focus on the bride to be. With that in mind, the entire preparation is set in place: her dress is spread across the bed alongside a pair of heels she borrowed from S/P/N and the room is scented with her fragrance of Peace Lilly perfume.  In the bathroom, Y/N is finishing up curling the ends of her Y/H/C hair as Stereolife slows to a finish on the speakers.

Sliding the curler through the last ringlet, she takes one of the bobby pins tucked between her lips and pins it in place, then does the back and spritzes a cloud of hairspray on to set it. Another song begins. Slower this time, wafting through the entire and, after taking one last look at the finish, she goes to turn the volume up. As she maneuvers around the room, her minds wanders. To tomorrow, what it will be like. To last night.

To Dean.

It’s no longer something she’s so ashamed of. Thinking about the elder Winchester has almost become a custom and so she chooses to not fight it. To embrace. It’s the only way she can make this any less painful, like a sailor thrown out into the sea, letting the tide wash over him. Consume—Y/N tries not to think about how much it has, so far. How much of her it has eaten, like a vicious disease she stubbornly refuses to treat.

She doesn’t want to treat it. She wants Dean.

And if she and Sam’s conversation over the phone last night means anything, then he wants her, too.

And isn’t that enough? Just knowing? She feels like it should be. Like yearning for more is a gluttony she needs to avoid lest Karma pay her a visit for not abiding, and yet at the same time it calls to her. Dean. Her Dean…He always has been, since the very day they met, two pieces of the same shattered glass and maybe they’re meant to fit together. Her Dean, for more than a year now.


They have battled and bled and been by one another for as long as she can remember. Dean is her best-friend, Y/N thinks. Even if it’s only mere thought, just knowing should be enough for her.


Thank you for reading.

Feel free to like, reblog and/or follow to keep updated on when I post the next part or to just see what other works I will posting. Definitely more Dean to come, because I’m all up in my feels.

As always: hope you’re having a great day!

cinnamonskull  asked:

jaytim: "is that blood on your shirt?"

I believe you’re a fan of older, married, domestic JayTim, yes? So here you go <3


“Is that blood on your shirt?” Tim asks, holding the garment up to the light, squinting hard. “Or ketchup?”

Jason peeks into the laundry room. “I don’t remember.”

Tim brings the shirt closer, closer to his face. “I think it’s… ketchup.”



Jason leans against the door frame. “You wanna know what I think?”

“Probably not.”

“You need glasses,” Jason says anyway.

“I do not.” Tim glares at him, and then licks the fabric. “It’s ketchup. There, see? I figured it out.”


Without glasses.”

“Tim that’s gross.”

“I’m not old.”

“What if that had been blood?”

“I’m a spring chicken.”

“And you don’t know whose blood it might have been!”

“Well it wasn’t blood,” Tim says, throwing the shirt into the washing machine. “And I don’t need glasses.”

Jason sighs, “That’s too bad. I’ve always thought glasses would be hot on you.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “That won’t work. Like I’d ever do something just because you’d think it’s sexy. What kind of man do you take me for,” he mutters, dumping in the detergent and jamming the start button.

“The kind that licks strango blood, apparently.”

Tim grimaces. “Okay, that’s probably not a good thing.”

He steps toward Jason and slumps against his chest.

“Fine,” he says bitterly. “But I’m gonna complain about them all the time.”

Jason rubs his hand in soothing circles over Tim’s back. “I know.”

“But I’m not old,” Tim says into Jason’s shoulder.

“Of course not.”

“And neither are you.”

“Spring chicken, was it?”


“Here.” Jason grabs Tim around his waist and carries him toward their bedroom. “I’ll show just how young we are.”


Marry You AU!Reylo

“It’s a beautiful night
We’re looking for something dumb to do
Hey, baby
I think I wanna marry you”

- Marry You by Bruno Mars

(I dedicate this to @daxcat79 and @its-always-werewolf-queen bc why not :D <3)

(Just imagine this AU. Meeting for the first time at some bar, they fall in love. They’re crazy and wild and kinda drunk. He asks her to marry him at a small chapel nearby and she says yes. But he also tells her that if she wants to ‘break up’ tomorrow morning, he wouldn’t mind. (At least that’s what he told himself. He really doesn’t want her to go.) They go off to some adventure, away from their problems. Running, hiding and even playing hopscotch near a playground. Goes to thrift shops to buy clothes, goes to diners and convenient stores and kissing in the middle of an empty highway.  Afterwards, they got pretty tired but she suggests that the night is still young. He found them  a motel near the highway road. And you know the rest  ( ͡º ͜ʖ ͡º)  )

anonymous asked:

i... i really love Field... i wanna marry him but he has a crush.... </3

awh anon! I didn’t think anyone wanted to marry him. Sorry, here’s a special Field just for you  ❤

I Think I Wanna Marry You...(Part 5)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Time is running out as Y/N and Dean try and maneuver their way around this new conflict whilst keeping their cover…Easy, right?

Warnings: Swearing, mild angst; Castiel is clueless

Word count: 5k (yikes)

Part 1, 

Part 2 Part 3 ,Part 4

A/N:  Way overdue, but here it is! surprise surprise: our favorite angel finally makes an appearance.

PS. Big shoutout to all my Boston-born pals. No hate, this is all purely for fictional purposes and I’m sure you guys and your town rule!




Apologies if I forgot to tag you, let me know in my inbox and I’ll be sure to in the next part.                      


Dean’s footsteps are thunderous thuds as he stalks down the hallway, fists bawled and jaw clenched. He makes a turn for the right, heads to the elevator that takes him to the ground floor and makes his way out onto the terrace where the party is going.

His eyes scan the perimeter in search of Sam; he’d left him in the company of Emma and Y/N’s cousin Brendon, talking about politics and nerd-things (Dean’s conclusion: yawn). Turning to the right, he spots Marilyn and Y/N’s father. The noise around him swarms his mind, clouding it, only catalyzing the agitation stewing in him. Dean scowls and then heads to an empty table by a dropping willow tree.

His footsteps crunch against the grass as he moves to take seat, and finally resting his head in his hands. He lets his eyes shut. Exhales. Sighs.


How did he get here? All he can is being sent up to get her, taking her things along with him, and then in the blink of an eyes, here he is. A labored breath leaves Dean and he sits up, leaning back in his seat. Instead, he decides, he might as well allows himself to observe the crowd for now. To recollect. Lamenting on this entire situation is out of the question—if he gives it too much attention, things could get wild in his head. Could swell larger than they need to be, and so he allows his gaze to skim the crowd, when he catches the eye of a familiar face glaring at him.

And then the elder Winchester’s jaw tenses.


Rick standing in the centre of the crowd, mingling with the guests; Rick, despite the conversation he’s engulfed in, staring him down like a hawk.

Rick coming towards him.

Mind hazy, Dean has to do a double take, squinting to make sure he’s right. And apparently he is—the dark-haired man is sauntering across the garden, a beer in hand, sporting a composed smile.

Dean waits anxiously before he approaches, halting a few feet from the table. He raises his bottle. “Pleasant evening, isn’t it? It’s a surprise to see someone spending it alone.”

“Maybe that’s what makes it so ‘pleasant’” He sneers the word as though it’s venomous, like the mere syllables cause his tongue to burn. “…because I’m alone.”

“Not gonna lie: that’s sad.”

Dean shrugs. He doesn’t know why, but apparently Rick stupidly takes this as an acquiesce for him to join him, because he then drags a seat out from the table and sits himself down opposite the elder Winchester.

Rick’s smile softens. “Dean, right?”


“Yeah, Y/N’s boyfriend.” Rick nods in understanding as he offers his hand. “We met—rick.”

“I know.”

An awkward silence befalls as Rick’s expression falters, and he shyly tucks his hand back at his side, clearing his throat. “Right.” He mumbles. “So—how are you liking everything in Boston? Y/N told me you’ve never really been well acquainted with these parts. She said you’ve only been here—once, twice?”

Dean nods. He’s not really in the mood for company; and doesn’t want them to, but for odd reason the words end up leaving him anyway.  “Twice. Business trip that lasted three days and then we were outta here.”

“Never thought of coming back.” Rick asks with a quirked brow, and the elder Winchester shakes his head. “What about Y/N? No interest in seeing where she came from?”

“Why do you care?”

“I…don’t. I’m…just..making conversation.”

“Well then maybe you should stop.”

Rick’s brows shoot up in surprise.

Dean is steady and as stoic as a soldier, his expression giving away no sign of emotion. Green eyes are dead set on the hazel ones across the table, and in the air thick with a newfound tension dangles another silence

After a moment, Rick clears his throat. “So, uhm, Dean,” He continues, trying to sidestep the awkwardness. “Y/N said that you two are partners. You work together in the squad?”

“Yup.” This is getting beyond mind-numbingly boring; Dean really doesn’t like this guy. Like, really doesn’t like him. And he knows it’s untheical, and he knows he’s being petty (likes that’s new), but he doesn’t care enough to do anything about it because just because he’s somebody else for these two weeks doesn’t mean he needs to abandon his actual traits.

”That would explain how we’re partners.” He rolls his eyes, averting his gaze to the far left when all fo a sudden he notices a movement.

Then the elder Winchester’s senses heighten; drowning all peripheral sounds out, he focuses on the shift, the patter of feet, a shadow cast upon the damp ground. A large male figure. Getting closer. Closer.

“Right, I forgot.” Rick laughs casually, throwing back some beer. Wiping the corner of his mouth with his cuff, he then returns his focus to Dean who tries to look less like a hunter. “So you’re a cadet, too?”

“Uhm….” His eyes skitter. Th strange ris getting closer, his walk rigid. “Yeah…Cadet. I’ve been on the force for almost four years now.”

“That’s a lot.”



When he turns his head, much to his relief, it’s Sam. The younger Winchester walks up to the table, looks down at Dean, his long brown hair swooping around his face like a curtain.

“You alright?”

Befuddled momentarily, Dean nods.“Yeah…”

Sam eyes him dubiously, then looks at Rick. He smiles at the younger Winchester. Turning back to his brother, Sam announces, “Cas is here.”


“He just arrived. He’s, uhm, waiting in the lobby. Says he wants to talk to you there.”

“Oh..right….” Cluelessly, the elder Winchester then casts Rick a cursory look. He inhales and stands. “Gotta go, buddy. Talk later.”

“Oh, uh—“And then they leave.

The dark-haired man, befuddled, says something, watching as the pair begin to move, but Dean is already so out of earshot that he doesn’t bother. He follows Sam through the crowd and out of the garden, into the garish lighting of the lobby.

Sat at one of the black leather couches, Cas looks around the room a few times, shifty-eyed, until his gaze rests on the elder Winchester and his panic dissolves. He pushes himself up, eyes focused on Dean.

“There you are.”

“Cas, where have you been? I left you like six voicemails.”

“I’ve been busy. Heaven’s duties, tracking Crowley, i…”The angel exhales, averting his gaze. “I’m sorry. I would have gotten here sooner.” He explains, then turns to Sam. “Where’s Y/N?”

“What are you wearing?” Dean’s eyes slide over his friend’s attire: brown khakis, a salmon button up with an orange spotted tie, and sandals. Morbid. Unethical. If Dean had a blow-torch with him, he’d set it on max and go to town.

Horrified eyes lift to Cas’ apologetic face. “Sam told me to dress casual.” He explains.

“Yeah, casual, not train wreck.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“I could say the same about that tie—or the whole ensemble.” With a slight repulsed face, Dean dismisses it with a shake of the head and wave of a hand. They’re on a tight schedule.

“Come on, I think I have something you can wear. People are starting to stare.” He then ushers Cas along with him up to their bedroom, until the realization strikes him like a bolt of lightning. The elder Winchester, cursing internally, then turns to Sam.

“You have to go in there.”


“I can’t. Y/N and I, we…” He sighs and averts his gaze, desperate to sequester his embarrassment from the public eye. “We got into a fight. She wanted to me to leave, I can’t go back in there.”

“A fight about what?”

“Does it matter?” Dean snaps, and Sam’s eyes lift in surprise at his tone. “She doesn’t want me in the room. You’re going to have to get Cas’ clothes. We’ll be downstairs.”

“I could go get them.”Castiel offers.

The elder hunter shakes his head. The music from downstairs is floating all the way up here, drowning his focus. “Not looking like that. Y/N’s sad as it is, that whole outfit will just bring her down.”

“What did you do?” Sam asks.


The two speak simultaneously, Cas’ tone admonishing and Sam sounding like he’s tired of this story before he’s even heard it and Dean doesn’t have time for this. Instead of staying here to explain himself, with an indignant huff he pivots and stalks back down the hall, before suddenly bumping into someone.

He feels the smack right in his chest and winces at the contact, stepping aside as something clatters to the floor. The other person curses, and before he can even open his eyes Dean knows who it is.

“What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?”

Y/N bends to pick up the sheets of paper on the floor. Meanwhile, Sam and Cas hurry over, they’re expressions unreadable once his gaze meet with hers.

Clutching the papers to her chest, Y/N’s face breaks out into a surprised, slightly confused smile.

“Cas…You made it!”

The angel can’t help it; his expression cracks, too, as he goes in for a brief hug. “Of course I did.” He says. The moment is cut short by Dean scoffing.

“Yeah, wait a few days and she’ll get tired fo you.” He remarks.

“You have a bone to pick, Winchester?”

Dean shrugs and looks away, pouting like a child. “Maybe…”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Sam intervenes, because Y/N looks like she’s about to knock a man’s teeth out. He looks to her and his brother, arm still keeping her a safe distance from the elder Winchester. “Man, you two are acting like kids.”

“How else do you want me to act, Sam?! Y/N’s being ridiculous about this whole thing..”

“Excuse you…”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to sleep out in the hall now just because I said something that hurt your feelings?”

Y/N bites her lip to keep from spitting venom, her arms like tentacles wrapped tightly around the papers as she glares bitterly. Dean, with his eyes wild and jaw clenched once more, challenges her gaze, but it only takes a minute before he realizes something: she’s changed out of her old clothes, now sporting one of her dresses from back home reserved for the dinners.

The elder Winchester’s expression softens as his eyes slide over her frame. They rest on her face pink with anger. “You changed.”

“No shit.” Y/N spits, brow still creased, steam still puffing from her ears. Her nails at this point are digging into the papers. “I was just downstairs. I thought about what you said and realized that if I didn’t show, then they’d suspect something was up. I couldn’t risk blowing our cover.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You think I didn’t try to? It’s not my fault you were off somewhere being an ass.”

“Hey, stop it.” Sam chastises as he shoots Y/N a glare. She glances at him and then the floor, abashed.

“Well,” Cas begins, speaking up for the first time in eons. “…none of that matters now. At least Y/N managed to keep your cover. For tonight.” He glances between the two of them, emphasizing his words. “But from now on you two can’t go around acting like you’re anything less than partners. It could put this entire mission at risk.”

“Mission…”Dean scoffs. “…this is all just a big joke. I have no idea why even agreed.”

“Neither do I, jackass. I should have asked Sam.” Y/N, tears brimming in her eyes, shakes her head then shoves the papers into Sam’s chest.

“Here’s the new agenda. There’s been a change of plans. The binder says it all.” She says, before squeezing through the wall of the three men and rushing to her room, Dean’s eyes following her.

When she slams the door, the walls tremble.


The next day is a disaster. Between runs for cake samples, trips to the florists and fittings, Y/N is forced into the presence of Dean and company—Sam and Cas, trying their best to keep the two from fighting in front of the family. On the brightside, so far so good. They’ve barely uttered any profanities to the other. They’ve barely spoken overall. A few words here and there, the occasional peck on the cheek (barf) for the sake of reputation, but other than that they haven’t spoken.

Mainly because Y/N doesn’t want to. Because after the previous night, she wants nothing more than to avoid Dean at all costs, and it’s been hard. Impossible, almost. Without the other in sight, one of them is always hounded by the family, which makes staying mad at her sweetheart more tedious than needed.

It’s Thursday morning when they’re out on the two running some more errands. Being forced to hold hands with him as they stroll down the boulevard makes her skin seethe like a vampire in the sun. She’s angry—how can she not be?

“Easy there, anaconda. Your holding my hand not your prey.”

“Bite me.” She sneers as she slips her hand from his, jiggling it to dissolve the feeling of his calloused hands.

At one point she would have done the opposite; she’d relish the feeling of Dean’s palm against hers, crave it. There were instances where the only reasons they’d be holding hands was because Y/N wanted them to, and now all of that had vanished as fast as it came.

They pass an open bakery, an Indian restaurant perfumed by the scent of curry and then make a left. Because of the wedding being moved closer, all the planning has been catalyzed. This means that there’s a ton of activities Y/N and her folks had planned to carry out within the following days that they have to get accomplished by Saturday, and so to make things move a lot faster, they’ve been separated into groups. Bridal party A: Y/N, Castiel and the Winchesters and Bridal B which includes her mom, S/P/N, Emma and Aunt Steph. Brendon and the guys, she’s been told, are handling things back at the hotel. Seating arrangements, catering.

Their assignment? Getting the ring.

The store is a quaint white structure sandwiched between an antique parlor and restaurant, bouquets of a vast variety lining the entire wall, a colorful welcome as they scuttle in. Y/N keeps her hands in her pockets, walking a safe distance away from Dean. He probably thinks she hasn’t noticed, but he’s not very discreet when he keeps sneaking glances her way.

But she ignores him.

Cas and Dean move to the front desk to speak to the employee smiling welcomingly at them while Y/N remains with Sam by the exit.

He looks over to her. With her arms crossed over her chest, she’s looking at some earrings in the display case.

“So you’re not gonna forgive him, huh?” He prompts. She shrugs. A ring with a diamond the size of a nugget glints in the daylight and she rounds the display to take a closer look.

“Nope.” Is her simple reply.

“Come on, Y/N…” Sam almost pleads. “You know that this is all gonna blow over. It always does. The two of you can never actually stay mad at each other.”

“Watch me then. He’s gonna stew this time.”

“But not forever, right?”

She looks up and he’s at her side. There’s a small, polite and almost knowing smile on his face. One she’s seen before. One she hates to see because of the truth it holds, the gospel behind it. Y/N sighs then looks away…and that’s good enough of an answer for Sam. His simper then grows into a teasing smirk and he leaves to go see what Cas and his brother are up to.

Watching him go, the young girl bites her lip, her mind gripped by the reality the younger Winchester just showed her. He’s right. It’s inevitable—she’s going to forgive Dean. No matter how much she denies it, she always does, so what’s the point of just postponing it all?

Getting it done now would be much easier, she reasons as she moves to the earrings display. So what if Dean’s ego is pampered by her surrender? So what if she has to be the one to cave—it’s not like anyone is keeping score? They’re not. They’re not petty like that…

But still.

Y/n feels reluctance tug at the strings of her heart.  When they’re done the trio walks up to her and tells her it’s time to leave. Apparently there’s been a bit of a delay.

“The ring will be ready by Saturday.” Castiel offers. “We pick it up first thing in the morning.”

“Looking at some rocks, huh, Y/N? Don’t get your hopes up.” Dean says as he takes a look. His eyes survive the vast variety, skittering from jewel to jewel. “I’m not making buying you stuff from every store we go to a habit. The scarf was just for show.”

“I didn’t—“ Y/N begins, defenses on already, but quickly stops herself.

Eyes narrowed, she clamps her lips shut and stares. He fingers a diamond pendant on the shelf. With a shake of her head, she tries to ignore his remarks, and sidesteps him, moving as fast as she can to get out of the door.

As if the day wasn’t odd enough, it’s Sam who drives them back to the hotel.

Y/N, with her back terse and nails digging into the leather seats, now knows why Dean never lets his little brother.

Because, boy, is he rocky. She doesn’t know if it’s like this all the time, but the car feels like a cruising deathtrap. They race down the road at an unholy speed. Much to her surprise, Dean says nothing. He’s quiet. Dead silent, entranced instead by the scenery zipping by in a flash.

“Damn, Sammy, cool it.”

“Oh, sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t like it fast, huh?” Dean speaks for the first time since they got in.

Turning her attention to him, she shoots him a glare. He doesn’t notice it, though. Too busy staring out the window. Engulfed by his own thoughts. Apparently not enough to miss the chance to poke fun at her.

“Relax, Y/N…” the elder hunter continues, finally turning around to look her in the eye. Expression bored, his lips quirk up in a dead smirk. “…he’s just trying to get you there quickly. You don’t like that either?”


“Hm…Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t pick Sam to be your squeeze for the wedding. Otherwise things in the bedroom would be real awkward, am’irite?”

“Dean!” Sam admonishes.

Y/N fights the blush flooding her face. With a glad grin, the elder Winchester glances at his brother then back at her. The satisfaction is written out in the way his lips twitch, the smugness of his expression that she chooses to ignore because if she doesn’t, then things might get ugly…

“Can you stop acting like a child?”

“Why don’t you make me?”

“Is this some type of flirtation?” Cas’ voice cuts through the noise, dripping with cluelessness and earnest curiosity. Dean laughs. So does Sam. Y/N, she only rolls her eyes and turns to the window.

“I just don’t see why we’re in a rush. I mean, we still have like—“ she glances back at the car-clock, “—two and a half hours till they need us back at the hotel. Almost three.”

“So…what? You guys wanna go do something?”

“What’s there to do, Sam? It’s Boston.”

“We could go to the museum…? I hear their exhibitions are immensely meticulous and well done. It shouldn’t take us less than—“

“No one really wants to go to the museum, Cas, but we appreciate the participation.” Clapping him on the shoulder, Dean shakes his head. His eyes shoot to her. “Y/N: where to, since you are the local?”


“Well, you did leave here your entire childhood.” Sam reasons, shooting her a glance in the rearview mirror. “You’ve gotta know some place that’s…I don’t know—fun?”

“Fun? In Boston?” She scoffs. “Please.”

“What about a movie?”

“For three hours?”

“Oh, right…uhm….” They all think in silence, and Y/N lets them.

The truth is this: she does know a fun place. She knows a ton. It’s freaking Boston. She knows the woods just out of town she’d sneak off to with her friends after school and she knows some of the best burger joints you can find. She’s got eyes all over this damn town, in all the cracks and crannies that you can find, but getting her to confess is nothing but a far-fetched plan, she thinks—until the boredom starts to weigh in on her too.

Biting her lips, she reluctantly begins. “I think i have an idea…”

The chatter then quiets as all eyes flit to her constricted face telling just how badly she doesn’t want to say it. Y/N gulps. It’s only one option on the (long) list of many…


The sky is clear by the time they get there.

A vast stretch of blue across the town, a few tufts of white clouds here and there. It’s not going to rain, apparently. Not with the air clear and warm and dancing against the apples of Y/N’s cheeks.

She stops walking for a moment, staring at the cluster before her. Trees upon trees. Thick, evergreen, covering a radius of roughly ten miles, and before it the playground where they stand. Sand. A slide with chipped blue paint and abandoned swings. Usually this place is full but taken the fact that it’s a Thursday leaves it marooned, the only presences being those of adults and teenage couples roaming around in the park.

Whipping to face them, Y/N flashes the boys a tight smile. “This is it.”

“A park?” Dean’s voice, although surprised, holds no offensive tone. He squints at the light as he takes a look around, eyes resting on the little gates of the entrance. “This is what you call fun?”

“Extremely. Look,” She walks over and taps the slide’s chipped paint. “…it even has a playground just for kiddies like you.”

“I’ll join you on the slide, Dean.” Cas supplements with a smile and Y/N chuckles.

The gates let out an aged squeak as they push through. The boulevard is a wide stretch of cobble with parks on the sides with people playing instruments, a guy in rollerblades doing tricks. She remembers coming here all the time, being one of these personalities strumming her ukulele for some extra doe

“Check it out.” Smiling, Sam points to a girl doing a full back-bend and a man laying eggs on her extended torso. They all smile and make their way over. Apparently, she’s an acrobat putting her skills to sue for the same reason Y/N did, and so they leave her with a couple of dollars and a coupon to Denny’s before moving on.

They move from person to person to food-kart when Dean’s stomach starts to rumble.

“I feel like chili-dogs.”

“When do you not feel like chili dogs, Winchester?” Y/N smiles as she hands the vender the money. “You always feel like chili dogs.”

“Is there any other genuine feeling?”

“Apparently not.” She mumbles. A few feet away Sam and Cas are buying cotton candy, when the younger Winchester turns around.

He jerks a thumb back, raising his voice. “Do you guys want some?”

“No, we’re good.” Y/N shouts back, and he gives them a thumbs up before turning back to the guy holding two fluffy blue blobs. They’re handed two large sandwiches, then wander further down the path until they’re in the opening near the pond. There are trees everywhere and a few people dotted across the grass, the pond glistening in the sunlight, and Dean’s about to sit when Y/N stops him.

“Not here.” She says.

The elder Winchester, already halfway into his seat, furrows his brow. “What?”

She only waves for him to follow and continues.

He does.

It takes them roughly eight minutes to get to an isolated spot further into the park and Y/N is smiling proudly. A large oak sprouts from the ground and they settle down beneath it.

“Ugh, if S/P/N could see me now she’d scold me sore.” She says, un-tucking the napkins around her sandwich as they sit. “This is a total no-no for someone trying to stay fit for a wedding.”

“It’s not like you’re the bride, anyway. What’s that saying, again? Always the bridesmaid never the bride?”

“Really, Dean?”

He shrugs then takes big bite out of his sandwich Some marinara dribbles down his mouth and onto his chin. These ends of the park, for all the years she’s known them, are never fully. They never have anyone but Y/N and whatever company she strings along with her, and because of this the quiet that settles between them is deafening, encompassing.

She stares out at the pond glimmering like mercury, the ducks waddling over it in tiny clusters. A fond smile creeps onto her face. She remembers. Everything. She remembers hot summers spent dipping her legs in the water and cut-off shorts that bleached from the sun. She remembers ice-cream trickling down her wrist; laughs with friends and furtive I love you’s hidden somewhere in the intimacy of this place. She remembers, because she can’t win the fight not to.

“I used to come here a ton when I was a kid.”  She says, breaking the silence.

Dean turns to her. His expression is simple, mouth still dressed with marinara sauce and brow furrowed with a newfound interest.. “Really?”

She nods “S/P/N used to bring me.. When we were like ten, she’d tell my mum we were going to the library and we’d come here instead, sneak off to this little sequestered zone to…” She shrugs. “…skip stones, listen to music. I used to feel like the coolest kid on the block just ‘cause I was hanging out with teenagers. But…when I got older we sorta stopped. She went off to college, so I inherited the safe zone. Used to sneak off here after school with my friends.

“You had friends? Wow…” Eyes wide and lips quirked subtly, his tone is evidently teasing. Y/N laughs softly. Genuinely. There’s still a hint of earnest that tells her he’s a bit surprised, but she understands; despite having lived with the boys for so long, there’s not much they know about her life before hunting.

“Yup.” She answers. “A whole pack. They were nice, too—really nice, and we had a lot of fun before I left. Here, there, all over city, the state even. But, after that, things kinda…fizzled out.” A hint of melancholy seeps into her tone as she averts her gaze to the ground, quieting for a moment. She can feel Dean’s eyes on her, prying, interested in hearing what it is she has to say. The tension between evaporates. They’re no longer foes on this park bench, not with the newfound intimacy that seems to envelope them.

It’s hard re-opening this wound right in front of someone, in front of Dean. He knows her— for all the years they’ve been partners, for all the wholeness of her herself she has given him he knows her, but telling all this comes harder than she thought it would. There’s a knot in her chest refusing to untangle, that doesn’t want her to spill all this now, but it’s about time… Sighing, she swallows and turns to him. She blinks, expression saddened.

“You know why I hate this place so much? Massachusetts, Boston?” She asks.

Dean shakes his head.

“Because I had a life here. A good life. And I left a lot behind when I left to hunt.”


She can feel the tears stinging her eyes and tries to blink them away. They won’t budge. Instead they spill over, trickling down the curve of her cheek. She doesn’t want to remember having it all, because it means recalling leaving it behind. And it hurts—God, does it hurt.

Biting her lip, she sniffles and another tear trickles down her cheek. “I hate this stupid town,…” She says Carefully. Quietly. Her voice is hoarse and is at the precipice of cracking.

“Come on, Y/N…”

“I can’t wait to leave.”

And that’s all it takes.

And she’s in his arms, head rested on his chest, face pink and wet and fingers knotted together because she can’t breathe. Her chest stutters, falling as fast as it rises. Dean, smoothing his hand over her arm, tells her to breathe, to relax.

“I can’t, Dean…” Tears trickle down her cheeks as she shakes her head. “God, I can’t wait for this wedding to be over. To get out of this place.”

“Y/N, listen to me.” He coos, somehow managing to pacify her, because she actually does. Sniffling, she tips her head back and their eyes meet. Green on y/e/c. His eyes swim with a sadness, an anguish she can’t bring herself to understand.

Gulping thickly, the elder Winchester gathers his thoughts. His courage. Watching this is more painful than imagined; just because they fought, it doesn’t mean Dean doesn’t still care for Y/N. It doesn’t mean that watching her cry doesn’t make his heart splinter, or that hearing her quiet sobs is any less painful than taking a bullet to the shoulder.

He never makes her cry. Ever. Tries not to, but apparently fails because here she is, stifling a sob.

“You had a good life here, maybe even great, but leaving to embark on something new doesn’t mean leaving that good behind—it means taking it along with you.” His eyes bore into hers. “And that’s what you did. You took a whole lot’a good from this crappy town and brought it into our lives. You changed them. And it may sound selfish, but you leaving your old life behind was the best thing that could have happened to mine.”

Y/N manages a small, sad smile. A coarse chuckle escapes her. “Softie.”

“Hey…” he admonishes but it’s only semi-genuine before a smile breaks through; his eyes crinkle, pink lips pulled back and there it is again. That glimmer.

That spark that ignites the warmth in her chest…

She looks at Dean like she’s looking at him for the first time in years—takes in the wrinkles and creases engraved into his skin, the blots freckles across his nose, the little bit of gold that glints in the green rim of his eyes and she feels her spirit soar.

“You’re right.” Averting her gaze, her words are q bit mumbled. The elder-hunter’s eyebrows quirk.

“Am I?”

Y/N nods. Stuttering a breath, she casts her eyes to meet his.“I’m sorry I was being so difficult.”

“We both were. Some more than others, but…” She rolls her eyes at his words, punching him in the shoulder softly. He only laughs.

Dean offers a small smile. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” It’s going to take some time for the guilt to dissolve, but an apology is one step closer to that achievement. Inhaling deeply, Y/n shakes her head slowly. “And I’m sorry for saying I would have rather brought Sam with me. You’re doing a great job keeping up with my family and my crazy ass. I never should have said that.”

“It’s okay..”

“Could you stop it? it obviously isn’t. i know that. I’m sorry, Dean. I….”The sentence melts away somewhere in her throat as she feels her chest shake. Her eyes water. Glancing away, the words are barely a whisper…

“…I care about you.” Y/N admits.

Stilling, he takes a moment processing. Then, lips quirking into a subtle, knowing smile, he offers her his hand. “Truce?”

She glimpses down at it. Rough and calloused. Dean’s. An unspoken contract. She can’t help but think back to their first day, in the car. An unspoken promise between the two of them, and within a second all the hate has vanquished. All the bitterness and resentment and the arguments and the tears, and all that’s left is that glimmer in her chest.

Grabbing it firmly, she nods. “Truce.”

                                                 ~ *~*~*~*~

Part 6

:D :D :D

The angst is over! I know I said that the update was due last week, but my break just finished and I only got the time to post today. Nonetheless, I hope you liked what you saw.

That being said: likes, reblogs and follows are abundantly appreciated. ! Much love and I hope you’re doing welll!

I watched Tangled Before ever after (finally!) and I liked it a lot. It was a lot deeper than I thought it would be though.

But a few things:

1. Flynn Ryder (or Eugene Fitzherbert) I love you and I wanna marry you. I loved his “I wanna raise our kids here with you.” I didn’t think I would ever hear a disney prince speak these words but now that I have heard them; I wanna hear them again. And again. And again. Also his “I grew up poor and alone and that’s why I wanna be safe and sound in the castle” kinda got to me and I wanted to hug him. 

2. Cassandra was a good character. I loved her banter with Eugene. 
Cass: “How’s the water?” Eugene: “Dark and cold, just like you.” Ha! Keep it coming.

3. The hair!!! I don’t mind the short, brown hair at all but with the confidence Rapunzel handled that hair with… woah. When the wig came off and the shoes came off it was just… magical. She was shinning and it was glorious to see her being back in her old self. More of that please!

4. The animation. It’s not good nor is it bad. I love the animation style but for Tangled it’s kinda weird. (Since it’s computer animated) but I still loved it. It was very colourful and lovely, just like Punzie.

5. The hair 2.0 It gave Flynn a reason to call her “Blondie” again and yeah.. it’s amazing.

6. The dad. I’m sorry but this is the character that I feel is the most different from the movie. He doesn’t seem like the same character. I get that the movie had a different situation  but imagine movie!dad saying “As your father and your king!” It’s just not… him. He seemed more laid back in the movie. I liked the character but it wasn’t the same as the movie. 

7. The songs were great. I love “Wind in my hair.” 

8. The way the hair grew back is intriguing and I wanna know more. 

9. I’m excited for the series to start.

10. That’s it. 

What do you guys think? 

anonymous asked:

I'm having a lot of trouble with the dialogue for these two characters. It's an ex-military man who married the man he saved the life of in a fictional war I made up. Think you could help me out? Thank you!

1) “More nightmares?” 
“I’m fine.” A splash of cold water did nothing to clear his head. 
“Sure. We’re all just fine, it was a real holiday of a trip. You wanna be fine together in bed?”
His fists clenched on the edge of the sink. “After everything you suffered, when I found you…”
“It’s not a competition on who suffered more. We can also be not fine together in bed? But come on. I’m freezing my fucking toes off.”

2) “You didn’t have to say yes because you were grateful.”
“You think I married you out of gratitude?”

3) “We fought for peace, and sometimes I just don’t know how to do peace anymore. Don’t you ever miss it?”
His husband shifted his feet, watching him carefully. “Peace is hard work. War is easy.” 
“How can you say that? After everything we did? All the pain and the sacrifice.” 
“If peace was easy, we wouldn’t have spent years fighting for it.”

BTS Haru Hana Vol. 25 ~ [TRANS]

(T/N: BTS had to come up with answers to given situations. Fans then ranked their answers from from 1st to 7th place)

Q: A very manly wedding proposal.

Namjoon: Be with me?
Seokjin: Let’s get married!
Yoongi: Let’s live together. I’m yours!
Hoseok: I want to be the person to put a ring on your fourth finger. 
Jimin: Wanna get married?
Taehyung: What to do…I think I fell for you.
Jungkook: Be mine.

Results: 1. Jungkook / 2. Seokjin / 3. Jimin / 4. Namjoon / 5. Yoongi / 6. Taehyung / 7. Hoseok

Jungkook: *smiling*
Taehyung: I had a feeling that Jungkook would come first.
Hoseok: I’m last?! That’s shocking!
Namjoon: *to Hoseok* Yours was too long. 
Jin: *to Hoseok* With that proposal, you had to be last haha. 
Yoongi: So many said that Jungkook’s proposal is manly.
Jimin: My “wanna get married?” is also very manly, right? Hehe.

Jungkook’s Winning Thoughts: I’m not really manly but if the fans like it, I’ll work harder and become more manly!

Q: The girl you like just got dumped and is crying.

Namjoon: *in satoori* How about me?
Seokjin: Will say nothing and quietly comfort her by her side.
Yoongi: How about…me?
Hoseok: Why are you crying? From now on, I’ll take responsibility of all your tears. 
Jimin: I’ll say nothing and just comfort her. 
Taehyung: Can’t it be me?
Jungkook: Let’s go get something to eat. I have to tell you something.

Results: 1. Jin / 2. Taehyung / 3. Jimin / 4. Hoseok / 5. Jungkook / 6. Yoongi / 7. Namjoon

Jin: *looks at Hoseok and laughs*
Hoseok: I’m probably last again, haha.
Taehyung: Tell us the results quickly!
Jungkook: Here it is! Oo ~ it says Jin-hyung “understands a girls heart.”
Jin: Of course.
Yoongi: Namjoon and I…*smiles*
Namjoon: It’s better to keep quiet at such moments.
Jimin: In conclusion, be straightforward when confessing and quiet when comforting.

Jin’s Winning Thoughts: There are no words needed. Just look at the other person like in dramas. *starts acting with Jungkook* (Namjoon: Such a waste of broadcast time)

Q: A girl you don’t like confessed, and you reject her without hurting her.

Namjoon: *sighs* Should I put some ointment on for you? It feels like you’re about to get hurt…
Seokjin: I’m sorry. I won’t see you again.
Yoongi: You’ll meet someone much better than me!
Hoseok: Sorry,  you’re too good for me. I don’t deserve you.
Jimin: I already have someone that I like. If I didn’t like someone already, I think we would’ve gotten along very well. 
Taehyung: I…will moving away soon. I’ll be moving to a far away place. It seems like I’ll be there for a while. Will you wait for me?
Jungkook: Can I say it directly? To be honest, I don’t see you as a girl. 

Results: 1. Hoseok / 2. Jimin / 3. Jungkook / 4. Yoongi / 5. Taehyung / 6. Jin / 7. Namjoon

Jungkook: I’m definitely last. I was clearly joking…
Yoongi: *to Jungkook* Yours was kind of overboard haha. 
Hoseok: Oo! I’m first!
Jin: You have to think about the other person.
Namjoon: I was kidding too…
Taehyung: *starts acting* I need to move away…
Jimin: The reactions to Taehyung’s answer were “cute like a kid.” 
*caressing Taehyung’s head* Good boy, good boy.

Hoseok’s Winning Thoughts: Great, J-Hope!! ~ I’m happy to get some many votes. Thank you!

Overall 1st Place: Jimin

Jimin’s Winning Thoughts: Everyone knows very well, eh ~! The one who knows a woman’s heart best is me!



i don’t know about any of you, but my heart leaped happily for the second time after the manga version.

“I don’t plan on marrying you, Sugawara.”


anonymous asked:

How do you feel about allurance? :3

I prefer the platonic aspect of their relationship more than the romantic side.

I feel like they’d work better as just bros.

Plus I think it’d be good for kids to see that boys and girls can be friends without it being romantic.

I grew up thinking if you even hung out with someone of the opposite sex you just had to date and end up getting married to them because there was no way on earth you two could be just friends.

Thankfully I grew outta that so fucking quick bless the goddess.

Besides I wanna see Allura and Lance roast the fuck outta low torso

I Think I Wanna Marry You (Part 8)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Wordcount: 2.9k

Read the previous parts here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6 , 7

Warnings: swearing, drunken angels (because who doesn’t love those)

Tagging:  @julibelen​ , @ilostmyshoe-79​ , @scamanders26newtcase​ , @g-c-falorraquideo​ , @the-rain-pours-down , @explorersinwonderland​ , @babyblues915​ ,  @rizlowwritessortof@adoringjensen​ , @peaceloveandplumbots, @quixoticcat, @skymoonandstardust, @girliciousdreams, @captainbitchslap, @awkward–jay, @fandomlover03@daesunglg , @shamelesslydean, @casually-dying-rn, @destinyesser​,

Song: Bruno Mars - Marry You (Cover by The United)

[…well it’s a beautiful night, we looking for something dumb to do

Hey, baby, I think I wanna marry you…]


The reception marks the end of their successful week. Not just for Dean and Y/N, basking in their successful fraudulence at the bar, but for Y/N’s family, for her sister, a beautiful bride and even more beautiful wife who emanates joy the entire evening. In the ambient garden, they are all victorious, all celebrating by dancing and singing. Dean joins the dance because he’s no killjoy, he may be in a conflicting state of mind, but he’s here to have fun. Liquor sloshes in glasses, spills onto fine fabrics and cloths, is ignored—right now, that’s the last thing anyone would be thinking about. They celebrate and laugh. Turn the music up. Dance—by God, they dance, the two of them.

Dean and his friend, his giggly, clumsy friend, his grinning friend who at the moment has no sense of personal space. Not that he minds. Y/N’s hands slithering up his chest and caressing his arms only fuels the fire in his belly, and soon enough he forgets why he was even feeling glum to begin with. She is the Y/N whom he knows and loves, his Y/N, infinitely.

“To us and our success.” She declares with the raise of her glass. Dean mirrors her, lifting his drink. “We’re such BAMFS.”

“To the BAMFS.”

They toast and he downs his drinks twice as fast as she does, finishing it in three gulps. Dragging a hand across his mouth, he wipes away the remnants of cherry wine in his stubble, but his smile is irrefutable.

Sam scrunches his nose up from the pungent burn. “God, that is vile.”

“Want me to help you out?” Castiel then reaches across the bar and tries to take the glass, but Y/N stops him.

“No way,” She admonishes as the angel frowns. “Cas, I think you’ve had enough.”

“Angels can’t get drunk, Y/N.”

“Then explain why you’re talking to the tiki torch instead of me.” She counters with a smug grin and laughter erupts as Cas, bashful, quickly tips his head and looks down into his glass. Clapping him on the shoulder, Sam laughs then stands.

“Well, if you guys will excuse me,” He looks at Y/N and Dean, “I’m gonna head to the dance floor.”

“Who’s gonna watch Cas?”

“I don’t mind.” Dean pipes up absently, swallowing the last drops of his drink. He hisses at the bitterness. Not strong enough to get him drunk (yet), but intense nonetheless.

Y/N eyes him curiously. “Sure?”

“Why not? You two go have fun.” He waves her off and straightens out, bumping a few burps out of his chest. “I’ll join you later.” He insists.

And with twin smiles, the pair nod then disappear into the crowd. The elder Winchester watches them go with an absent-minded smile, elbow rested on the bar top. Caught in a daze, his focus is grasped when he hears the low grumble of his friend and looks to him.

Hunched over, Cas groans out, “I’m never drinking again.”

Dean can only laugh. Then he goes back to nursing a rum and coke and watching the crowd sway to the music.

He watches Y/N. As the song blares on she moves to the beat with Sam, laughing at how languidly he moves to such a fast-paced song. The elder Winchester finds himself chuckling, too (because it’s drunk Sam and who doesn’t love drunk Sam?) and then leaning further back in his seat to observe.

Then, when the tempo slows, he sees Rick approaching. Smiling like always. Red faced, probably from drinking. He doesn’t remember seeing him with a glass?

“Is he seriously gonna ask her to dance?” Dean scoffs. Cas only grumbles. The elder Winchester’s gaze flits to his flaccid friend, death-glare in place and then he rolls his eyes and returns them to his former focus—and no surprise, they’ve started dancing.

“God, look at him. Piece of shit.”

“This coming from the man who hates the guy for no reason. Get over yourself, Dean.”

“Excuse me?” He turns to Cas almost instantly, brow creased as the angel pushes himself up. His head is throbbing and he grips it and groans, expression twisted.

“I said get over yourself. Rick has as much right to dance with Y/N as you do—or are you forgetting that the two of you aren’t actually dating?”

“Shut it, feathers.”

Castiel shrugs then holds his hands out in surrender. Dean bites his cheek, but this time he does not look back. He doesn’t want to. The grimness of the afternoon has returned and made his chest its warm home. Despondent, he weakly glances at Castiel.



“I’m an idiot, aren’t I? For not…for, well—Rick and Y/N.”

A caustic laugh escapes him at that. “It’s good you’ve realized. The only thing differentiating you—“he pokes Dean’s chest, then points to the crowd, “—from him, is that he’s got the courage to act on his feelings. That’s your problem, Dean. Yours and Y/N’s—you’re both huge cowards. Waiting for the other to make the first move.”

Dean silently watches him. The angel’s words dig into him. Carve themselves onto the walls of his heart, poison his blood. They’re in his system and he isn’t sure if he enjoys the brutality of their truth.

“I love her.” His tone is earnest and true. These words are just as brutal, just as honest.

He lifts his eyes from the floor to Cas, who only scoffs, before throwing back a shot of tequila.

“Yeah” He coughs, tone sardonic.  “And fucking water is wet. Don’t tell me. There is an enthralling woman waiting for you on that dance floor who would be much more delighted to hear that.”

And those words are just as true.

Watching his friend, a fondness crawls its way out of the elder Winchester’s belly. Drunk Cas, much like drunk Sam, is more than amusing. The only difference between the angel and his brother, though, is that Castiel manages to retain all his wisdom even in an intoxicated state, remains Castiel, an angel of the Lord who—on most occasions—is the voice of reason in Dean’s head.

And now is no different.

There is an upward curve to his mouth as the elder Winchester nods approvingly. “Wow. Who knew you become Yoda when you’re drunk.”

“I’m yoda even when I’m sober.” The angel assures somberly. Dean can’t help but laugh. He stands, claps a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Sure thing buddy.” He says. Then his eyes soften. “Thanks, anyway. You’re right.”

“I know.”

“You gonna be okay on your own here? I know I can’t trust you to stay away from the drinks…”

“I’ll be fine.”

“He’s cut off, yeah?” Dean points at the bartender, a young man with shaggy blond hair who laughs and nods, and then just like that he turns around and makes his way to the dancing crowd.

Sweaty bodies form a barricade between him and his target, pull at him, urge him to dance. Dean smiles politely and shuffles through, the air thick with the scent of sweat and various perfumes. It’s dizzying. He inches closer and closer as he tames his inner turmoil. It’s now or never.

Y/N, finally but a few inches away, throws her head back in rapture and bounces to the beat of the song. So disoriented and dislodged that it’s almost humorous. So Y/N. She doesn’t notice him come up until he taps her on the shoulder and she whips around.

Her chest stutters with heavy breaths, as a smile forms. “What are you doing here?”

“Mind if I cut in?” The question isn’t directed at her, no—he’s asking Rick.

Sweaty, bewildered Rick. Perfect Rick. Even drenched in his own perspiration and with three buttons undone he looks faultless. And that, Dean has come to learn, is okay. Rick is okay. He’s good, from what he’s seen these past days, and it’s time the strife between them melts away.

With apologetic eyes, the elder Winchester stares at the dark-haired man who tips his head back defiantly.

“Do I really have a choice?”

Inhaling deeply, Dean looks to Y/N. “Would you give us a minute?” He asks. Reluctant, she shrugs, smiles sadly and then bounces over to where Emma and Aunt Steph are dancing

His focus returns to the man before him. Dean breathes in once more. This isn’t the hard part of the evening. The hard part hasn’t even yet begun.

“Look, Rick, I owe you an apology…”

“Do you? Huh. That’s hard to believe.”

“Could you just listen?” He asks almost impatiently.

The brown eyed man folds his arms over his chest. Dean swallows.

“I’m sorry. Really. I’m sorry that for the past few days I’ve acted like a huge prick when you’ve been nothing but polite and respectful. It was…stupid of me…really stupid. You’re nothing like the guy I’ve been making you out to be in my head. You’re a good kid. You deserve to be treated like one.” Dean watches him, the heaviness in his chest melting away. Replaced by relief. Replaced by triumph. He feels a swell of calm when he sees the corners of Rick’s mouth curve up in a fond smile.

His tone is truthful as he nods. “Thank you for that. I forgive you.”

“Not pulling my leg?” Dean almost smiles as he turns his head just a little, tone ribbing.

“I wish I was.” Rick laughs. “I really want to hate you, think you’re a dick—was doing that pretty well up until a few minutes ago.” They both chuckle. The moment is brief, a flash of a second, but it’s a testament to the atonement.

“But even then,” He goes on, “I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that the guy Y/N was crazy about was actually an ass.”

“Well, I have my moments.”

“We all do, don’t we? No, you’re a good guy, too, Dean. I know that just from seeing how much she adores you.”

With a fond smile Rick’s eyes then slowly move to Y/N behind Dean. The elder Winchester glances over his shoulder, finding her dancing, laughing. Happy. When he looks back, he flashes the elder Winchester  a furtive smile, salutes and then vanishes into the crowd.

He watches him leave, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips when suddenly there’s a tug on his wrist. Dean whips around.

Smiling up at him, Y/n looks at the retreating man then her friend. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

“Do you wanna dance?”

It isn’t until she asks that Dean notices the shift in the music’s tempo, the steady strum of a guitar and the way everyone’s movements slow. People pair up. A calmness floats over the scene and even Sam, smiling down at a redhead he’d seen him with earlier, moves in and begins to sway with her.

The elder Winchester’s breath catches in his throat. He looks down at Y/N, licks his lips, and can’t help the unsure smiles that forces its way onto his face.

He nods.

Takes her hand. Leads her into position, calloused hands resting on her waist as she winds hers around his neck. They move to the beat of the music. Languid. Lazed. The world around them seems to blur, nothing but them and them and them…

No one else matters. No one needs to other than Y/N, a smile rested on her gentle features as she looks up at him and God, Dean wants to say it, he has to.

“You’re a good dancer.” He says idly, smiling at her.

“I wish I could say the same about you.”

“Oh, shut up…”

Bowing her head, she laughs then meets his gaze again. “I’m kidding. You’re actually better than I thought you’d be.”

“Is that so?”

Dean’s heart grows warmer and warmer by the second. He watches her, feels her blood run under her fingers, notices the way her skin buzzes beneath his touch and hopes it’s not just the alcohol taking its toll.

“We did it.” He says.

The space between them gets thinner and thinner and Y/N wordlessly nods as she leans in closer, the elder Winchester feeling his blood pulse. A familiar thrill courses through him like a vice, like anxiety bubbling in the pit of his belly, like heat flooding his face.

He plants his soles firmly into the ground and restrains himself. It’s a battle, but he has been a fighter since he started to walk, and he is no stranger to the pain of it all.

“Yeah.” Shaking her head with disbelief, she lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, we did it.”

“Who would have thought, huh? I mean, not that I’m saying I was doubting the plan—“

“It’s okay, I was, too.”

“I wasn’t. I….” He opens his mouth, shuts it, tries again. “I knew we could pull it off, you know…? We always make a good team, the two of us.”

An inch away, Y/N yields and stops moving closer. “Yeah….yeah, we do, don’t we? And we always will.”

This is it. Moment of truth, esteemed and anticipated and nerve-wracking. The elder Winchester swallows, tries not to get lost in her eyes.

“Look, Y/N I…I have something to tell you. I don’t know what it’s gonna be like after or if telling it to you is the right thing to do but at this point, I don’t care. I don’t, I….” Mustering the courage, he takes this as his chance, gulping thickly. The words are there, right there. In his throat. Stuck. Forcing them out is tedious and suffocating, like they’re cutting off the air supply to his lungs.

The elder Winchester licks his lips. Y/N. His.

“I love you, Y/N.” he all but whispers…

And she doesn’t move.

Something flickers in her eyes, a recognition, an acknowledgement. He is no fool to miss it. Even the blink of an eye at this stage, at this fleeting moment, is crucial. He’s got the ball rolling now. Licking his lips, he goes on as his emotions begin to boil, to bubble rapidly like stew in a cauldron.

“I do. Terribly. For the longest time now but I only just realized it this week, and—well, you can imagine how stupid I felt because it’s been right there in front of me all this time. Only I was too big of an idiot to realize that. I love you, Y/N. I love you.”


“Love you.”

Love. He loves her. There. He’s said it. Felt it, proclaimed it. What matters now doesn’t matter as much; as long as the elder Winchester has purged himself of the emotions that have been poisoning him for the past few weeks.

Out in the open the words do not seem as frightening as they did in his head. They are mere words, he realizes. Amplified by his mind, little creatures hyperbolized into bloodthirsty beasts—the extortion is dissipating, Dean can feel it. He can feel the weight on his heart lessen. Can feel his lungs regain their function. His body is no longer a home to this toxin.


As he watches her the silence hanging between them turns sour and his heart wrenches. Stunned in silence, she gapes at him, the melody of the music dancing around them unaffected. Everybody else is; all celebrating and cheering and ignorant to what, to Dean, feels like the earth splitting in half beneath his feet.

“Y/N, I—“

“You….love me?”

He nods silently. Her brow furrows and she licks her lips. “Dean, I….”

But he doesn’t let her finish.

It happens in the flash of a second. So rapid, so spontaneous that even he is caught off guard but the feeling of her warm mouth on his is enough to reel him back in.

Y/N stills under his touch. Her heart stutters. Soars. His grip on her grows firmer as his lips dance against hers, idly moving to the music as they formerly were, tasting, taunting, drawing something out from her belly that feels like fire. Pressing herself closer to him, her arms tighten around his neck, desperate to have him closer.

But Dean does not rush.

His kiss is tentative and indolent and it feels like a million stars are settling on her skin/ His hand moves to cup her face, tilting it back slightly, and Y/N’s mind fogs.

Them and them and them….

Only. Always.

When he pulls back, their faces not even an inch apart, he swears he hears cheers ringing out. Laughter. Sam’s voice hidden in there, somewhere. Dean ignores it, all of it, and instead focuses on Y/N.

With half lidded eyes, he looks down at her.

“I love you…” He shakes his head.

A smile cracks through her face and he notices the tears welling in her eyes. Finally. Finally.

“I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I should have, but I was a fucking coward and I thought….”

“That I wouldn’t feel the same?” She supplements with a smile.

He nods. Chuckles. “I’m guessing you thought the same thing, huh?”

“More than you know. Guess we’re both idiots then.” Y/N says. Her hands slide to his face, resting on either side, the stubble rubbing against her soft palms.

“You and I will always make a good team.”


“Always, and forever—till death do us part, Winchester.”

And Dean can see it in her eyes, in the way she laces her hand with his and holds it over her heart that this is a promise, an unspoken oath that sits, without a doubt, on a cosmic level.

And that is enough of a hint for him.


Aaaahhh it’s finally done !!

This series has probably been one of my longest but most full filling stories to write, so I’d like to give a big thank you for those who stuck around from the start. It’s been quite the ride, and hopefully you enjoyed. I’ll probably create a masterlist for this entire series, but if not, you can always find the entire thing in my regular *Masterlist*

(ALSO, since this is out of the way I’ve decided to open up requests so ayyee)

Thank you once again for reading! IF you liked this or would like to see more of my writing, go ahead and show show some love! Likes, reblogs and follows are always a pick me up :)

switching labels

i’ve been thinkin for i dunno, maybe about a year or so if i’m bisexual or actually a lesbian. funnily enough it was mr moony who suggested it first. and then a really close friend said the same thing. if anyone else asked me if i was certain i wasn’t a lesbian i’d have told em they were being rude but they both know me. so i’ve been really thinking a lot about it. and i’ve decided to switch. bc yeah it does make most sense. i mean yes i’m married to a guy but he’s also genderqueer and we’re domestic partners more than anything else. and he’s perfectly cool with this. 

sooooo. yeah. coming out on tumblr AGAIN. but this time as a lesbian. XD

i’ve been talking with some people here about this and i wanna thank them, y’all know who you are. you were helpful, thank you <3