Dean Winchester x fem!reader
Genre: Comfort? Fluff?
Summary: Dean has a nightmare but a soft little something comes to the rescue
Warnings: none, has one curse word
A/N: somebody hold this man and tell him it’s all gonna be ok 😭
Dean and y/n had a bit of a rivalry going on to say the least. When she first moved into the bunker, on account of Bobby’s recommendation, her and Dean clashed almost instantly. She was smart and mouthy and absolutely loved correcting him and back-talking him. But Dean being the sassy man he is, often retorted with a clever comeback, building a small fued between the two hunters.
It wasn’t like they hated each other or anything. They were more like frenemies, though they’d never admit it. Some would even say there were other types of tension to be lingering between the two hunters.
It wasn’t long until y/n found out about Dean’s frequent nightmares, considering that their rooms shared a common wall. She would hear his mumbling late at night, or the sound of the tv he used to drown out his thoughts. She felt a bit sorry for him, even if she never let it show.
She was almost like Dean in that sense. Hesitant to show emotion, to show people she was vulnerable. Her heart was locked away, surrounded by a wall, just as fortified as that of the city of Jericho— impenetrable, or so she thought.
But unbeknownst to her, Dean was slowly chipping away at her walls, starting to weasel his way into her heart with every snide remark, or witty comeback, but especially the stares she pretended not to notice or return.
***
One night she was up especially late, trying to finish a book she had started a few days prior. She did in fact finish the book, and as she was returning it to the lofty stack in the corner of her room, that’s when she heard it— the pleas, the mumbles, the groans.
Dean was having another nightmare. A bad one. Y/n stood there of a moment, conflicted. She could pretend she didn’t hear anything, act oblivious, and just go to bed… or she could go try and wake Dean, maybe comfort him, make sure he was ok.
After one instinct won over the other, she began to head for her door, picking up a small stuffed teddy bear she had on her bed, one that had a lot of meaning to her. She padded over to Dean’s door and knocked. It wasn’t loud enough to wake him so she knocked louder. She heard groans and cusses on the other side of the door as the man woke from his sleep. She heard him make his way to the door so she quickly set the bear on the floor and rushed quietly back to her room.
When Dean opens the door he didn’t see anyone and was rather confused as he looked down the hall. That’s when he noticed it, the bear. “The fuck?” he mumbled as he bent over to pick it up. He recognized almost immediately, even in the dark, as he made he way back into his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, just looking at the bear in his lap, playing with it a bit, moving its paws around, as he fell deep into thought.
Why’d she do that? Does she know about the nightmares? Could she hear me through the walls? Does she hear me every time? Does she pitty me? Does she care?
He sighed deeply and lied back down in bed, propping the bear up next to his face. He continued to stare at it for a bit before he hesitantly took it into his hold again, even going as far to bring it up to his face and smell it. Amber and vanilla. Smells just like her, He thought. And with that he closed his eyes pulling the bear closer to his chest, setting his masculinity to the side for a while and indulging in the comfort of a soft stuffie, something he seldom experienced in his childhood.
Before he knew it a single tear was sliding down the side of his face and dripping onto his pillow. Not long after he was reaching for his phone and typing out the simple message,
“Thank you”
before attempting to surrender himself to sleep once more. She read the message and smiled into her own pillow and she drifted off to sleep soon after.
I smile like an idiot when I see my man, who’s not my man, on my television screen.
probably not realistic at all, also keep in mind i’m really bad at writing.
-he’d DEFO have a little section for your books in his library
-i feel like he’d love jam but have the strongest hate for marmalade to the point he’d comically smash jars of it whenever he sees it
-he’s memorised how you like your tea but always has to ask how you like it
-he’s the type of guy to ask ‘you eating that?’ after he’s already taken the food off your plate
-talks about kipps way too much to the point you and lucy have made an inside joke about them being gay
-he tells a bad lockwood one liner and he feels so chuffed about himself until he looks over at you and the others cheesing at his words
-the type to secretly shazam songs at the function after saying shit like ‘the music here is terrible’
-hasn’t drank water in 3years
"Tell her about the biscuit rule"
I made some vaguely Christmassy Lockwood and Co art for the secret Santa exchange on the Lockwood & Co discord, and the lovely person I was paired with gave me permission to post it here :)
Merry Christmas, and I hope you all have a lovely day, regardless of if you celebrate!
(Also the art I received from my secret Santa was so fricken cute 😭)
Summary: Written for @trexrambling ‘s Daring Drabbles challenge where my theme was “Candlelight.”
Pairing: Dean x reader
Word Count: 288
“All done,” said Dean, setting the lighter down as he crawled into bed with you. You’d never seen your room like this before and you couldn’t help but smile at Dean in the soft, dim light.
“This is…intimate,” you said, the few lit candles casting long shadows and warmth into the room, a pleasant, airy scent filling the space. Dean lifted his hand up and reached for yours, dancing his fingers together with your own, watching them move and play against the far wall. His breath against your bare shoulder felt hotter than normal, his muscled arm intertwining with yours closer than you’d ever felt it.
“You’re beautiful,” he said gently, his head tilting, his soft hair brushing your forehead for a brief moment before lush lips were pressing against your skin with a ghost touch. It was too hard to see but you knew that rare gleam was in his eyes, the one where tonight he knew he could forget about everything, that he would forget about everything. He was safe with you in this room, cozy and at peace.
“Can we stay like this forever?” you asked. Dean brushed a finger over your cheekbone, tracing a different line than you were used to over the shadow.
“You glow,” he said, moving his thumb over the skin slowly. You turned into the touch and he tucked his body against yours. “We can stay here forever, Y/N.”
He didn’t say another word, simply tracked new curves and lines, changing as the candles burned down, a little of the darkness returning, threatening to consume all of the wonderful ways he looked in that room. Even when that too came and the light was gone, Dean wasn’t.
And he knew you weren’t going anywhere either.
“my daughter is completely fine!”
ma’am your daughter has to read fanfics about fictional characters just to maintain a healthy mental state
Cas - ‘A Nephilim has come into being.’
Deans facial expression - *are we pregnant?*
Going insane over these ghost hunting kids
Alexia • 18 • she/her • A pile of bi chaos • I have no idea what I'm doing • Obsessed with L&Co, Spn and Music
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