too bad it's too cold here

To Become A Hunter

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sister!reader, John Winchester, Sam Winchester [mentioned]

Words: 3900+ (I’m really sorry about that, but there was no good place to split it)

Warnings: Can’t think of anything specific, really, maybe just that there’s going to be a verbal fight, I dunno. Maybe a bit of swearing, not too much.

A/N: This is the fic I was talking about! It’s a pre-series sister AU, that takes place in between around 2003. Dean is 24, Sam is 20 and at Stanford and you are 17 years old. It’ll also be a mini-series, so there’s more parts to come. It might be a bit all over the place, but I was trying to create a certain feeling. (I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I hope you like it!)

Originally posted by whoeveryoulovethemost

Originally posted by negandarylsatisfaction

Originally posted by xohollandroden

Your name: submit What is this?

Hunting is hard, and that’s no surprise, really. It’s physically challenging, you have to be smart, have technique, and it’s just hard emotionally as well. And, not only is it hard, but you hate it as well.

Okay, hate is a strong word, but things about it, you really do hate. You hate the way you have to sacrifice what feels like everything for it. You hate the way you feel like you miss out on life. You hate the pain and the constant fear. You hate the way it forces you to see the world more black and white instead of with all the shades of grey. You hate the way you get shut down every time you question this. You hate the way your dad responds with ’because you have to’ when you ask ’why?’.

John Winchester used to be in the military and it shows, you could testify to that. All your life he has been hard on you and your brothers. But, despite this, you are not afraid to stand up to him, question him, call him out. Although it often comes with consequences.

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Fake Chats #155
  • Hoseok: when is spring actually gonna get here?
  • Yoongi: beats me.
  • Hoseok: I wanna see the flowers!
  • Yoongi: yeah.
  • Hoseok: I want the cold to go away and I want the sunshine to be WARM!
  • Yoongi: mm.
  • Hoseok: I'm sorry, do you want me to shut up?
  • Yoongi: no. Never.
  • Hoseok: you want spring to hurry up too, don't you?
  • Yoongi: honestly, as long as I've got you, I don't care what season it is.
  • Hoseok: and you call Jimin and Kookie cheesy.
  • Yoongi: they're having a bad influence on me.
  • Hoseok: no, I like it. Can we hold hands too?
  • Yoongi: it's not like I can say no to you.
  • Hoseok: really?
  • Yoongi: you know perfectly well how fond I am of you, stop pretending.
Under the Ice

January 2nd

The kid did well today. Didn’t make any big mistakes or get in anybody’s way and he kept his mouth shut and listened to what he was told. I think we’ll keep him around, he’s much better than the others that have been sent our way. You know the ones who think they’re better at your job than you even though they just started and you’ve been doing it for over twenty years? Yeah, those disrespectful little shits.

As long as this kid does his job and doesn’t cause any trouble though, we’ll be golden.


January 3rd

More of the same today as every other day. Not sure why I write in this damn thing, I’ve never been a man of many words and certainly no author. I guess I do this to pass the time when there’s nothing else to do even if it is five minutes. I’m just not sure what to write here.

I’m old (I’ve been informed forty-five is old now) and tired and just can’t wait to go home. It’s too damn cold here. Fuck Greenland and its endless goddamn snow.

At least we won’t be here much longer. Just till the end of the month and then we go home.

I used to complain about California being too warm all year round with no snow but now I don’t think I’ll ever say another bad thing about the warmth again.

Can’t wait to be done here.

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May (F)


She wore the scent of early spring on her delicate neck and every kiss I stole tasted of bright yellow flowers and buzzing bees


Originally posted by a-sakuras

There was something in the warmness of the weather and bright blue skies, that thawed out everyone’s heart.

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Can I Come Home? Pt.2

It’s not proofread, just saying.

The tiles feel ice cold beneath her bare skin, but she welcomes it. It couldn’t be colder than the feelings in her heart. She keeps telling herself that she’s doing this for Ryan; that her son deserves the safest environment and that environment isn’t Owen. But it only takes her a few seconds of imagining his hands on her, his body against hers, his kind words and reassuring looks, a few seconds and her will begins to break. She has to restrain herself mentally from running outside to find him, knowing that it will be the wrong choice.

The only good thing about the carpet outside his hotel room, Owen realises as he sits down with his pillow and blanket, is that it’s at least soft. He unties his shoes and dresses down until all he’s in is his boxers and vest. He folds up his clothing and sets it to side in a neat pile, wondering if he’ll have to do this for the entire weekend; be on the floor outside the hotel room he paid for. It doesn’t matter now, though, he’s already covered up and is feeling the sleep take him.


Owen opens his eyes and he sees two people standing over him. He checks his phone and notices that its 2 in the morning. What are they doing here?

“Arizona, hi,” he says in a hoarse, sleepy voice, “what’s up?” He sits up and rubs his eyes, feeling the strain on his back for sleeping on the hard floor.

“What are you doing on the floor?” she asks, “Is it comfortable?”

“Arizona, what do you want?” Owen grumbles, the quality of his sleep making him grouchy.

“He can’t sleep and keeps asking for Amelia,” Arizona says as she looks down at Ryan, “I didn’t want him to wake the others so I brought him here. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no,” Owen says, standing up, “it’s no problem at all.” Arizona lets go of Ryan’s hand and, reluctantly, Ryan makes his way over to Owen’s side.

“Are you sure?” Arizona confirms, “I mean you’re sleeping outside a hotel room, on the floor. It’s obvious there’s some sort of problem here.”

“There’s no problem,” Owen lies, “I just locked myself out and Amelia wouldn’t answer her phone. She’s probably in a coma in there but I’m sure I’ll get through to her.”

“Okay,” Arizona says, not questioning him any further, even though she can see his hotel card resting comfortably atop his stack of folded clothes, “well, I’ll bring his stuff in the morning.”

“Thanks a lot,” Owen says as Arizona leaves. He then turns his attention to the boy standing silently next to him and smiles.

“Had a bad dream?” Owen asks as he kneels to Ryan’s level.  Ryan nods in response and looks shyly down at his safety blanket.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks. Owen sits down and crosses his legs, patting the space next to him as an indication for Ryan to do so too. After a few seconds of hesitation, Ryan sits opposite to Owen instead, not making much eye contact.

“Mommy says you’re sick,” Ryan addresses instead, “and that you can’t come home because you could make us sick too.”

“I am sick,” Owen agrees unsurely, not wanting to alter what Amelia had told him, “and yeah, I don’t want you or your mom to get my cold.”

“But you’re not coughing or anything,” Ryan says. He stands up and presses his tiny, three year old hand to Owen’s forehead, “and you don’t got a fever either.”

“It’s a different kind of cold, Ry.”

“I think mommy might have your cold then,” Ryan says. He sits down again and sighs, “She’s sad and sleepy looking all the time. And her eyes are red too.”

“It’s not the same cold,” Owen says, making his best attempt to describe the depression he didn’t know Amelia was experiencing, “it’s like a mommy cold.”

“Oh,” Ryan says. He sits down again and sighs, “Well then I wish mommy didn’t have the mommy cold and you weren’t a different kind of sick.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I miss you.”

Owen’s heart shatters at the words, “Yeah, I miss you too.”

“Can I get sick from giving you a hug?” Ryan asks.

“No, you can’t,” Owen answers sincerely, a smile making its way to his face. He lets Ryan crawl over to him and into his lap and wraps his arms around his small body, encasing him in a warm, loving hug.

“Can I sleep on the floor, here, with you?” Ryan pushes further.

“Only if you tell me about your bad dream,” Owen bargains. Ryan smirks up at him and thinks and, in that moment, he’s never reminded him of Amelia more than he did just now.

When Owen did not return last night, Amelia’s first thought is that he’d gotten drunk and was hanging off of some balcony somewhere, if he hadn’t fallen off of it already. She hates that she still has feelings these strong for him and she’s afraid they’ll never go away. She throws on a flannel shirt and some tights and heads out of her room, surprised to see two bodies covered in one blanket on the floor outside her door.

“What are you doing on the floor with my son?” Amelia asks in a disturbed tone. It’s the last thing she expects to see and she almost wants to choke the man she was so concerned about moments earlier.

“I left you a text,” Owen explains as he turns around and sits up, “Arizona dropped him off last night after he insisted on coming by your hotel room.” Amelia opens her mouth to say something but then Ryan wakes up and she silences herself, putting on a bright smile for her son to see.

“Hi,” she initiates as she stoops on the floor, “did you sleep well?”

Ryan nods as he wipes his eyes, “Can we go to the pool today like you promised?”

“Of course,” she ensures him, ruffling his hair a little, “But let’s get you clean and not hungry, huh?” Amelia glances at Owen for a millisecond, but long enough that Owen can see the anger dripping from her electric blue eyes and he knows that their conversation hasn’t even begun as yet.

After taking Ryan to the kid’s pool and begging Maggie to watch him while she goes off for a supposed few minutes, Amelia walks up to where Owen is ‘sun tanning’ and asks him to follow her. He throws on his buttoned shirt and she leads him all the way up to their hotel room, a place where she hopes no one will interrupt her while she yells her tonsils out at him for letting her child sleep on the floor like a vagrant. When the door closes behind them, Owen speaks first.

“Amelia, I-,” he begins but is cut off when she lifts her index finger at him, indicating that he should shut up.

She takes a deep breath to calm herself a little before she speaks, “I don’t even know where to begin.” She has all this blind rage filling her up that she can’t even find the words she had prepared from beforehand. “Why did you let Ryan sleep on the dirty floor?”

“The floor wasn’t dirty,” he says.

“Why didn’t you call me?” she continues, “You could’ve knocked on the door.”

“He wanted to be there with me,” Owen defends.

“And you let him?” Amelia asks, astonished. She scoffs and pinches the bridge of her nose, “What gives you the right to say whether or not he gets to sleep on the floor?”

“Nothing,” he says with his hands up in the air like he’s being held at gun point, “I just decided that it would’ve been the best thing to do in that situation, Amelia.”

“You decided?” she shrieks, moving closer towards him, “Who gave you the right to decide what happens with my son. You are not his father; your name isn’t on his birth certificate. You’re not even his step-father. You are a colleague. You weren’t there when I had to give birth to him, alone, in LA. I raised him by myself with no one to help me. You’ve been in my life for barely a year and you think you have the authority to make those decisions? Who do you think you are?” She’s a mere few inches away from him now as her red eyes stare up at him, anger dripping out of every pore in her body. Owen is at a loss for words. Her words burn him deeply and he’s not sure if she’s just angry or if she really means what she’s saying. Despite this, he knows she is right. What he did was irresponsible.

“You could’ve choked him in your sleep, or worse, if you’d had a PTSD episode,” she adds, her voice cracking at the thought of her little boy begging for his life as Owen chokes him to death.

“I didn’t fall asleep,” he tells her hastily, “I didn’t want what you just said to happen. I was afraid, so I stayed up and I watched him. I didn’t fall asleep, Amelia.” Her intense glare softens a little as silence fills the room.

“That night you broke up with me, it was so hard to sleep alone again,” he discloses with a pained gaze, “I knew that it would only get worse and that I wasn’t going to be okay for a very long time, maybe even forever. Every day I get up and find one of your shirts mixed up in my clothes or expect to feel your arm draped over me in bed and it isn’t, I lose you all over again. I feel the pain of losing you every time I think of your lips on mine or of your hand in mine. I fall asleep at nights in silence instead of spending two hours talking, loving, and cuddling with you. And in the morning, when I forget that you’re not there anymore and I reach across my tiny, trailer bed to hold you, I experience all over again the feelings I had when you broke up with me two weeks ago.” He averts his eyes and takes a deep breath, worn out from his big proclamation. “When Ryan asked to lay down with me, I didn’t hesitate. I think it was because having him there in my arms was almost like having a piece of you there with me. He looks and acts so much like you, it was almost like I hadn’t lost you as yet; that I could still keep you if I kept Ryan. It was awfully selfish of me and I’m sorry for letting him sleep outside on the floor with me.” Now it’s her turn to be at a loss for words. Her blinding anger turns into guilt and for the first time in the two weeks they’ve been apart, she admits to herself that she misses him too. She puts her hand on his chest and Owen inhales sharply.

“Please don’t,” he begs weakly. He knows that if she touches him like this, it’ll make it all the more harder for him to get over her. Amelia ignores his plea and puts her other hand on him, unbuttoning one of the buttons on his shirt. Their blue eyes meet as she unbuttons the rest and they don’t stop staring at each other until his shirt is discarded on the floor. It’s Owen’s turn now and he pulls her cover-up down her shoulders and it falls to the floor in a pile.

They both know what’s going to happen; it’s just a matter of who’s going to initiate it.

Preference #479

One – Ed Sheeran  

Link to all preferences.

Harry: Take my hand and my heart and soul. I will only have these eyes for you. – You were always fighting. Harry stood at the end of the bed while you sat, only your legs covered with blankets, your arms crossed when you spoke. “What are you talking about? You have me!” Harry yelled at you, leaning farther over onto the bed, balancing on his hands. “Do I because I sure as hell can’t tell?” You cocked your head to the side, the room suddenly filling with a tense sort of calm, to where you were both angry, breathing heavy and waiting for the other to speak again. You’d been here before, never sure how serious things were with Harry as it was rare that he expressed his feelings blatantly towards you. Here you were again, the second time being together and you were unsure, your eyes wide and filled with doubt as he sat beside you, leaning back against the headboard. “Look, you have me completely.” He slipped his hand into yours, entwining your fingers. “Heart and soul. You have all of me. I don’t even look at other girls the same anymore. It’s only you.” He spoke seriously, relieved when you gave his hand a satisfied squeeze.

Louis: Tell me that you turned down the man who asked for your hand ‘cause you’re waiting for me. – It didn’t take long for Louis to hear that your current boyfriend had popped the question. He’d spent the night in his hotel room, hating to remember but not trying too hard to forget every minor detail of your past relationship with him. He’d gotten drunk off of airplane bottles of liquor before passing out on the couch, only to wake the next morning with a hangover filled with you on his mind. Unable to shake his thoughts he dialed your number, hesitating when you answered the phone with more of a question than a greeting. “Hello?” You nearly hung up before you heard his voice, timid and nervous from halfway across the globe. “Did you say yes?” He asked, waiting for an answer, hoping and finally grateful at learning that you hadn’t given one, that you were waiting for him.

Niall: All my senses come to life while I’m stumbling home as drunk as I have ever been. And I’ll never leave again ‘cause you are the only one. – You’d been awoken by the sound of a voice outside your front door. Cautiously peering out of the peek hole, you opened the door, only to find Niall standing outside, pacing back and forth, mumbling slurred words to himself. “Niall, what are you doing?” You pulled your robe tighter around yourself as you stepped outside. “Hey you.” He only muttered, shaking his head before stepping down off the porch, shrugging. “It’s freezing.” You noted the chill in the air. “I know but I can really feel it right now. I can feel every little thing.” He was drunk and not making any sense. “I was supposed to be walking home and I just ended up here. This is supposed to be our home and I know I left but I won’t again. I can feel everything and I like it but it’s driving me crazy too. I can feel how much I love you and then I can feel all the bad stuff too, the regret you know.” You cut him off, holding up a finger. “Niall, its cold and it’s late. Just come inside for the night and we’ll talk in the morning.” You opened the door, rolling your eyes at the man who’d left you yet again, only to come back in the dead of the night.

Liam: And you know, everything changes but we’ll be strangers if we see this through. – “You’re the one who said it. Feelings change, that’s just the way it is. That’s what you said, not me.” You pointed a finger at Liam, gripping at the roots of your hair in frustration. He stood across from you, speaking at what sounded like a million miles a minute. “I know but not like this. Nothing’s the same anymore and I can’t lose you. It’s like we’re becoming strangers and we’re afraid to talk to each other since we broke up even though we’re supposed to be friends. I don’t want to do this anymore.” He rambled on, apologizing about his feelings, constantly changing. You loved him; that much was certain. Exasperated, you blurted out the word. “Okay.” Sighing, you walked over to him, adding to the end. “But we need to talk things through.”

Zayn: And all my friends have gone to find another place to let their hearts collide. Just promise me, you’ll always be a friend. – Zayn tugged at his tie, flicking the first few buttons of his collared shirt open. With a sigh he fell back onto the bed, tucking his hands behind his head. Bored and lacking tiredness he pulled out his phone, scrolling through the few pictures he’d taken at his best friend’s wedding today. Couples surrounded him in the photos, Zayn groaning before tossing his phone to the other side of the bed, closing his eyes only to picture you there, turning over to avoid the image that had filled his mind as of late. Finally caving, he picked up his phone again, typing out a quick message to you. You still there? It was a simple message and he hadn’t spoken to you in months but there it was and you replied as promptly as ever. Always.

You guys seriously underestimate New Zealand. Like for realsies. We use our army to HELP PEOPLE (assistance in third world countries - disaster recovery). Gay marriage is legal. Everything is green. Its FUCKING PRETTY OKAY. Everyone is legit nice as hell. We were the first country to allow women to vote. We are one of - if not THE - freest country (sorry America but for real you are actually quite bad. You’re like 13th). We don’t have riots. We don’t have terrorism. We don’t have SNAKES, wild cats, bears, dangerous spiders, crocodiles/alligators. We have a low unemployment rate. Its not too hot. Its not too cold. There is the sea literally everywhere (I nearly cry thinking about people who can go their entire lives never seeing the ocean). Its clean. Its relaxed. Its safe.