emmilia . . . ᛭ eighteen ᛭ midwest girl ᛭ she/her ᛭ fawn irl ᛭ southern gothic / dark academia ᛭ blonde curls ᛭ vintage lamps ᛭ lore books ᛭ scorpio. — currently on supernatural s2ep1 (first time watching!) etc. — looking for mutuals , dms open to request or chat !
photobook . . . ᛭ 𑣲 dean winchesters girl ᛭ supernatural ᛭ lord of the rings ᛭ twilight ᛭ gilmore girls ᛭ star wars ᛭ house md ᛭ iwtv (film) — currently writing only for spn / moodboards and headcannons !! reqs are open!
cassette tapes . . . ᛭ cocteau twins ᛭ ethel cain ᛭ red house painters ᛭ led zeppelin ᛭ pink floyd ᛭ lord huron (saw live) ᛭ gregory alan isakov (saw live) ᛭ hoizer ᛭ fiona apple ᛭ jeff buckley ᛭ tame impala etc
diary entry. . . ᛭ note i do not write nsfw (sry) !! & DNI wincest !!!
there is always grace in cathedral park⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝅄⠀࿙࿚ ︶ ⠀♱⠀ ︶࿙࿚ 𝅄
tags : @samwspn @mistycatt @fqdedtulips @hesmydrugstorecowboy @artblogbyelizabeth @r0seb100d (if you dont want to be on my tag list / you want to be added, let me know!!)
꒰ঌ dean winchester x me/my oc aes (summerween) moodboard !! ໒꒱
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝅄⠀࿙࿚ ︶ ⠀♱⠀ ︶࿙࿚ 𝅄
130 days until halloween , its summerween over here <3 xoxo — i am obsessed with my oc evie (who i base off of me lol) & dean. they're so special to me :p !!
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ tags : @samwspn @mistycatt @fqdedtulips @hesmydrugstorecowboy @artblogbyelizabeth @r0seb100d (if you dont want to be on my tag list / you want to be added, let me know!!) ໒꒱ ⋆˚࿔
thoughts on spn s1 as a first time watcher of the entire series : WHAT. THE. HELL?!
i finished s1 of spn last night and im at a total loss of words. i know theres more to come but watching the finale the amount of times i gasped, almost cried etc is CRAZY. also when bobby showed up i was so excited omg he's such a diva already i can tell.
i am also a fan of how the first ep of s2 is 'in my time of dying' which as a huge fan of led zeppelin i was very happy to see that. ALSO BABY?! when the crash happened my jaw. dropped. i was so destroyed. anyway . . . onto season 2 !!
tags : @samwspn @mistycatt @fqdedtulips @hesmydrugstorecowboy @artblogbyelizabeth @r0seb100d (if you dont want to be on my tag list / you want to be added, let me know!!)
i can proudly tell you guys that i have 3 episodes left of S1 of spn, watching the entire series for the first time!! i will update you all my thoughts when i finish the season tn!
weather has been a delay over here in the midwest so i havent had time to finish it but im excited to tonight! (updates will be posted after my shift!) ⋆.˚
tags : @samwspn @mistycatt @fqdedtulips @hesmydrugstorecowboy @artblogbyelizabeth @r0seb100d (if you dont want to be on my tag list / you want to be added, let me know!!)
➤ Dean is terrible at talking about his feelings at first. Not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he’s spent most of his life shoving his feelings down and carrying them alone. He’ll say “I’m fine” when he’s clearly not. But over time, he’ll start opening up in small ways.
➤ He is touch-starved and doesn’t even fully realize it until he’s with you. Every time you touch him, he immediately leans in.
➤ He loves physical affection even if he won’t admit it
➤ He’s incredibly protective, but not in a controlling way, more in a “if someone hurts you, they’re going to have to answer to me” way
➤ He would let you drive Baby. Sometimes.
➤ After rough hunts, he becomes quieter and clingier. He won’t necessarily talk about what happened, but he’ll want you close
➤ If you’re in the bunker, he’d just gravitate towards whatever room you’re in
➤ Dean discovers very quickly which buttons to push, then proceeds to push them constantly. He loves getting a reaction out of you. He’d deliberately say or do things he knows will make you roll your eyes and smirk the second you get annoyed.
➤ Dean isn’t huge on PDA. You’re not going to catch him being overly mushy or announcing your relationship to strangers. But he’d never let you be away from him when you’re out: his hand on your lower back, his arm on the back of your chair, etc
➤ He’d call you nicknames like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘beautiful’ all the time, but call you by your name in serious moments
➤ He loves seeing you wearing his clothes
➤ Dean gets anxious whenever you have to separate, even for small things. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it because he knows it’s irrational most of the time, but the hunting life has taught him that people can disappear in seconds, so he’d be constantly checking on you
➤ He lets you ride shotgun in the Impala
➤ He’d let you play your music in the car and pretend to hate it
➤ He would always have his hands on you. Not even in a sexual way, more like him just wanting to have you close. His hand on your thigh when he drives, his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, stuff like that
➤ Even if you’re already together, he’d flirt with you all the time
➤ He’d get actually flustered when you flirt back
➤ He would absolutely teach you how to take care of Baby
➤ If you have a car of your own, he would take care of it like he does with Baby: checking your oil, tires, brakes, etc
➤ He would steal food from your plate. Constantly, relentlessly, shamelessly.
➤ He would wake up in the middle of the night and instinctively check you’re still there
➤ If he can’t sleep, he’ll just turn around and look at you sleeping next to him. Then he’ll pull you closer and finally relax enough to fall asleep
➤ Dean isn’t good with romance in a traditional sense. He won’t be writing poetry or planning elaborate candlelit dates. But he’ll remember how you take your coffee, grab your favorite snacks from a gas station without being asked, small things that show you he cares. Not because he’s trying to be romantic, but because you’re important to him.
➤ He secretly loves domestic moments; grocery shopping, cooking together, arguing over which movie to watch. Those ordinary things mean more to him than most people realize.
summary ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ when dean’s heart starts failing after a hunt, you and sam spend two sleepless days looking for a miracle neither of you believes in—until dean walks back into the motel room pretending none of it scared him.
pairing ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ dean winchester x reader ( gn )
wordcount ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ 1082 genre ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ angst
warnings ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ electrocution aftermath, terminal diagnosis, hospital mention, fear of death, sleep deprivation, emotional repression, best friends quietly in love, no comfort
notes ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ִ❀໋ consider supporting my work .ᐟ
sam comes back to the motel room alone.
you don’t notice the rainwater darkening the shoulders of his jacket or the way his hair is stuck to his forehead, nor the hospital smell still clinging to his clothes from how long he stayed with dean. just the empty space behind him.
dean should be there, complaining about hospital coffee and asking why the nurses always stab him with needles like they have something personal against him. he should be making a joke before the door even shuts—he isn’t.
you rise from the edge of the bed so fast that the open lore book in your lap slides onto the carpet. “where is he?”
sam closes the door carefully. his eyes find yours and then move away again, fixing on the ugly motel wallpaper over your shoulder as if the answer might be easier to say if he doesn’t have to watch it reach you.
“sam.”
“his heart was damaged.” his voice sounds thin, worn down to something you barely recognize. “the shock messed with it. the doctors said there’s not much they can do.”
you stare at him.
the heater rattles beneath the window. rain taps against the glass in an uneven rhythm, and somewhere in the room, the television keeps playing an infomercial on mute. some man smiles too brightly while holding up a kitchen knife that can apparently cut through a soda can. normal, stupid things still happening while your best friend is lying in a hospital bed with a failing heart.
“what does that mean?” you ask, even though you already know. you need sam to say something else. you need him to correct himself.
his mouth tightens. “he has a few weeks. maybe less.”
you shake your head before he finishes. “no.”
“i know.”
“no, sam.”
“i know.”
your chest hurts so suddenly that you press a hand against it, an instinctive, useless motion. dean’s heart is failing. yours is fine. yours is beating hard enough to make you dizzy, furious with the unfairness of it.
you look down at the scattered books across the carpet and the half-empty coffee cups crowding the table. “then we find something.”
sam nods immediately.
that’s how the next two days disappear.
you call every hunter who owes you a favor and a few who absolutely do not. sam turns the room into a mess of medical articles, folklore texts, and handwritten notes, his laptop glowing against his face through the night. you track down rumors about healers, witches, crossroads demons, anything that might carry even the slightest possibility of keeping dean alive, and every dead end lands harder than the last.
you barely sleep. barely eat. when sam finally drops half a sandwich beside your elbow, you leave it untouched.
dean calls twice from the hospital.
the first time, he complains about the food and asks whether you’re touching his tapes without permission. the second time, he catches the strain in your voice and goes quiet for half a second too long.
“hey,” he says, softer. “i’m not dead yet.”
“don’t say that.”
“what? it’s technically good news.”
“dean.”
he clears his throat. “get some sleep, sweetheart.”
you almost tell him you love him then. the words rise quickly, terrifyingly easy after years of swallowing them down whenever he leans his shoulder into yours during a late-night movie or hands you the first cup of coffee without asking how you take it. you think of saying it and immediately picture the silence afterward. the weight it would place in his hands when he’s already carrying too much. so you don’t.
“you first,” you say.
when the motel door opens on the second evening, you’re bent over a book with your cheek pressed into one fist, reading the same paragraph for the fifth time and understanding none of it.
then someone stumbles against the doorframe.
“i’m not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot.”
you stop breathing.
dean stands there, pale beneath the freckles, one hand braced against the frame while the other grips a paper bag of vending-machine snacks like he went out for groceries instead of escaping medical supervision with a heart that could give out at any moment. his smile is crooked and exhausted, but it’s there.
you cross the room before you decide to.
“are you out of your mind?” you snap, hitting his arm with the flat of your hand.
dean winces. the sound is small. almost nothing.
it guts you. your anger collapses fast, and your hand hovers over the place you struck, useless and horrified. “oh my god. i’m sorry. dean, i’m—”
“easy,” he murmurs.
you touch him then, carefully, both hands sliding around him as if he might break beneath the pressure. he doesn’t hesitate a second before folding into you, heavy and warm and real, his chin settling near your temple. you want to cradle him against your chest. you want to hold him so tightly that death cannot find the space to get between you. instead, you keep your arms gentle and bury your face against his hoodie, breathing in cold air, hospital smell, and the faint familiar trace of his aftershave.
“you idiot,” you whisper, voice breaking. “you absolute idiot.”
“yeah,” he says, but his arms tighten around you.
behind him, sam is still standing by the door, staring at his brother with red-rimmed eyes and an expression so tired it hurts to look at. dean glances over his shoulder and gives him a small nod, almost apologetic. sam swallows hard and turns back toward the books.
you stay where you are.
dean’s heartbeat is there beneath your ear. unsteady, too fast, but there. each one feels borrowed. each one feels like something you should thank him for even though none of this is his fault.
“you scared me,” you admit quietly.
his hand moves once over your back, rough palm dragging between your shoulder blades. “i know.”
there are a hundred things sitting behind your teeth. don’t leave me. i don’t know how to do this without you. i have loved you for so long that it has started to feel like a bad habit i don’t know how to quit.
you say none of them. dean doesn’t either. he just holds you in the middle of the wrecked motel room while the rain keeps falling outside, his heart beating badly against your cheek, and you try not to count how many he still has left.
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