Summary: After a tryst you instigated in the backseat of his Baby, you and Dean have started something new. He’s just not sure that you’re as “all in” as you claimed to be.
AN: As promised, here's a bonus one-shot to follow Maybe More Than Enough, though it can be read as a stand-alone. This is based on a request from @lacilou, one of my lovely Patreon members!
Bonus! It fulfills the @spnfanficpond monthly prompt. (Can’t give it away until the end though!)
Request: A Dean story based on the song “I Remember You” by Skid Row.
Word Count: 1.2K
Tags/Warnings: Angst, fluff, implied mentions of sex, bit of a twist ending…
Dean woke to the sound of pouring rain hitting the roof of the bunker.
It must’ve been some torrential downpour, because it took a lot for him to hear anything of the outside world from inside this place. Good thing the old heaters kept out the January cold, too. Nothing worse than frigid rain.
Blearily he cracked his eyes open, unearthed an arm from where it was tucked under his pillow, and carefully raised his phone to check the time, trying not to let the light from the screen burn his retinas in the still dark room.
4:00 a.m.
He groaned. Goddamn it.
He turned over onto his other side to face where you should’ve been lying next to him. He frowned when he saw nothing but the sheets pulled back and a dented, empty pillow.
No matter how he fought it down, a small tinge of worry, and the beginnings of disappointment churned in his gut. His brows furrowed.
Did you regret it already?
After his first make out session with you (turned more session) in the backseat of his Baby, you two struck a tentative agreement to figure what this could be—more than hunting partners, allies, and friends. Despite the fact that you kissed him first (a fact he didn’t easily let you forget), afterwards, you’d been a little hesitant about what came next.
“We take it day by day,” he’d told you, with a sizzling kiss that stole your breath. “All I know is…this feels good.”
It felt right. You had definitely agreed with that.
Dean sighed through his nose, turning back onto his other side. It wasn’t unusual for him to be a light (restless) sleeper, but the handful of times you’d joined him in his bed had been beginning to make his nights calmer. He was actually starting to sleep through until morning.
What’s more, after years of looking into your eyes and seeing all the possibilities of what if, he was finally getting to make those images solid, and real. He could touch them, taste them, feel them under his calloused hands. He finally had you for real.
He looked past your empty spot in his bed and didn’t see your phone, or any of your rings on the nightstand. They were the first things you put on in the morning, and the last things you took off at night.
If those were gone…
His disappointment was settling high in his chest now; an ache approaching pain.
Until he heard the light sound of bare feet padding back toward the bed. Your hand slid gently up his arm, and after the surprise wore off, the corners of his lips tugged upwards. Your hair was a bit wild and frizzy. It tickled his neck and shoulder when you leaned in to kiss his cheek.
“What’s this?” you whispered, swiping two fingers between the crunch in his brows. Dean relaxed with a small smile.
“Nothin’,” he claimed. His voice was deep and rough with sleep. “Had an appointment to get to or something?”
You smiled and settled into bed, embracing him from behind. He turned onto his back and welcomed you over, with an arm curling around your waist. He rested his hand on yours when it smoothed across his chest.
Subtly glancing down, he didn’t find any of the silver you wore on the daily, including the ring with a small turquoise stone he’d bought you a couple weeks ago, on a hunt in Denver. That one, you now almost never took off.
“I put them away in a drawer,” you said, wiggling your fingers under his hand. Your hand felt dry, and a little like you'd been handling something dusty. Had you been up reading in the library again, lost track of time? “When I woke up, I saw one fell off the nightstand. Have a feeling it had something to do with the bedframe knocking against it.”
At that, Dean couldn’t contain his lazy smirk.
“My bad,” he said, sounding anything but sorry.
You laughed, shaking your head. You still laid a kiss below his shoulder before you settled back down. He gave your waist a gentle squeeze, pressing a kiss of his own to your forehead. A deep breath fell from between his lips, and his eyes closed.
A question was on the tip of his tongue. Where you were, why you got up. Was it something he could help with? Or was it one of those moments you needed to have alone, not unlike the times you gave him to settle with his thoughts, after a hunt gone sideways. If it was important, you’d level with him, wouldn’t you?
So he let it be.
In the morning, you somehow once again managed to get out of bed without him feeling it. He didn’t hear you either. Curiosity led him down the hall and glancing inside the cracked door of Sam’s room. It was empty, his running shoes gone from the side of his bed. Dean rolled his eyes.
All right, Lance.
Oh, wait, that was biking. …Whatever.
Dean’s next path inevitably took him down to the kitchen. His stomach was already percolating—in need of good coffee and (hopefully) good food.
The smell wafting from the kitchen surprised him, however. Cinnamon apples?
He turned the corner, and there he found you.
The fuck?
You looked a bit of a mess. Your hair was thrown up into a haphazard bun, and you’d stolen his apron. Though in his eyes, you made it look better, the white fabric hugging around your curves like you were Rachael Ray or something. You were frazzled when he came downstairs, but happy to see him. You beckoned him over and sat him down at the small kitchen table.
“Sweetheart, what’s going on here?” he asked, eying you curiously.
“Just stay there!” you called from the kitchen. He heard you opening the oven, cursing when you nearly dropped something.
What the hell were you doing baking before 9:00 a.m.?
He turned to ask you what was going on (and if you needed help), but before the words could come out of his mouth, you came over and carefully set down the pie in front of him. The rich aroma, the golden flaky crust, the flecks of cinnamon and glossy apples peeking out from the divots in said crust—it all had Dean’s mouth watering, and his shocked gaze fixed on the shiny pastry.
He startled a little when he felt your hands on his shoulders, sliding part of the way down his arms. You kissed the side of his head.
“Thought I wouldn’t remember, did you?” you teased. “Happy Birthday, baby.”
Dean’s throat constricted. He tried not to show it, but your gaze gentled when he finally met yours, like you were seeing through all his layers anyway. He realized then what you were probably working on last night, and he really couldn’t fucking believe it.
He’d forgotten his own birthday. Couldn’t see much use in celebrating, when year after crappy year…
But he closed a hand over yours on his shoulder, and he brought your hand to his lips.
Every word he couldn’t yet say to you was etched in that single gesture.
AN: Short and angsty sweet! lol And the monthly prompt was "pie!" 🥧 For Dean of course. 😂
Hope you guys enjoy this one! 💜
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another one again today cause i like drawing shrimpo
teagan lowkey gives off security bird vibes
context if any are needed: Shrimpo is having a hard time sleeping after giving away tapes (he hates carrying tapes and threw them at teagan)
and teagan gave him her bandage since she doesn't necessarily needed it
his mind is filled with flash backs of that moment as he's trying to sleep. he fails to get rid of her off his mind and ends up punching another hole into his wall out of frustration.
On these nights where I'm physically and mentally exhausted, and there's no sleep in sight. I need you to wrap me in your arm, drape your leg over me and let me breathe you in. Let me match our heart beats. Hold my broken pieces together like a human weighted blanket
Henlo everypeeps! I'm working on a Dabi x OC fic in the background and desperately wanted to scratch an itch that wouldn't go away! Keep in mind I don't really know how Tumblr works in regards to linking things together and stuff!! I hope you enjoy!
Everything about her soothed the part of him numb to the world.
The shine of her hair in the setting sun. The way her smile lit up the darkest part of the hell his heart resided in. Her soft skin a balm to the burns on his body.
Eve is his everything.
Her laughter drowned out the rage that clawed to end everything that mattered to his poor excuse of a father and made him smile in a way that he thought he'd long forgotten.
The tick of the grandfather clock stirred Dabi from his restless slumber, his turquoise eyes heavy with lack of sleep that had been plaguing him over the past few weeks. His fingers curl, a smile pulling at the exhaustion as he looked down into the woman in his arms.
Her breathing was steady and deep, head comfortably on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while not smothering him. His Eve.
His left hand cards through her strawberry blonde hair, watching as the silken strands ran between his fingers like running water.
Her lips part in a heavy sigh, Dabi watching carefully, unmoving, as Eve shifts slightly, her head nestling comfortably in the crook of his neck. His lips find her forehead, closing his eyes tightly as the weight of the world evaporated from his body as his arms wrap around her more securely.
Thinking back to when they were childhood friends, he clings to the memory of them holding hands as they ran through the shallows of the beach together as their parents mingled on the shore. The lack of care or expectation on them in the moment as they relished in just being together. Just being kids.
"Dabi?" Croaks softly from his sweet girl, his eyes opening to a sea of emerald gazing up at him, a gentle thumb brushing over the patch under his right eye,
"Hey doll, go back to sleep." He rasps, voice husky from exhaustion. To no surprise, she huffs and kisses his cheek, shifting to gaze at him more thoughtfully, her stomach swollen with their second child on the way.
"Nice try. I know you." Is her ever familiar response.
How many nights has it been that she'd wake up when his mind kept spinning, soothing his worries and quieting his thoughts with her endless support? He'd lost count at this point.
"I mean it, kitten. Get some sleep. You need it.. For the both of you." His hand rests on her swollen stomach, his thumb tenderly smoothing over where he can feel the life they made together shifting slightly.
Eve's smile eases something deep in his mind, an intoxicating feeling he never seems to know how to place, and her gentle kiss on his lips almost seems to cull him back into that familiar exhaustion begging him to sleep longer.
"Hey, you don't get to play that game. Even she feels restless when her father is deep in thought." Her teasing words make him smirk and chuckle.
"Still insisting it's a girl, are you?" His smirk widens to a grin as he snugs her closer into his side, his other hand now tenderly cupping her stomach.
"Obviously it's a girl." She rolls her eyes, but he knows there's no irritation in her words.
His head rests back against the pillow, the scent of freshly clean linens reminding him of the new life they had cultivated. The end of the war spelt new beginnings for him and many of the other villains, even if they still needed to atone for the damage they caused.
His eyes droop, Eve's sweet hum echoing through the small home they shared, their son sleeping only one room away.
His mind settles as she lays her head in the crook of his neck, the numbness that had once plagued him from his years of hatred and rage completely overtaken by the only one that could make him feel.
I want to post so many things these days... I want to write everything down but I hardly have the time. Yet this one I wanna share, because I’m restless.
When I found out about TAD, I wanted to share it with my friends and relatives BUT I had a massive problem. They don't understand english enough 😬. So I found myself in front of a problem, as the lyrics make so much for the songs. So I decided to translate some of them and put the subtitles on those songs I wanted to share. Well, that was a good idea on paper, less so when I found myself struggling to find french equivalents for some metaphors or patterns.
Yet I enjoyed the process because sometimes it made me analyze more what I found magical in the way words are used and why I feel so many things when I listen to them.
And then, I came across "The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace" and my brain just melt 😅. Because when I experience the song, I have multiple stories invading my brain. I'm OK with that. That's part of what I love about TAD.
For this song in particular, I have this kind of mental construction, because of the "you" pronoun. In french, we have two words and four "meanings" for "you". You = tu is you as a singular person, you = vous is either you as a singular person but with deference or you as plural group of persons with deference or not.
And I found myself in front of a big problem as for some lyrics I couldn't choose between "tu" and "vous", because it changed the meaning and I was losing the multiple storytellings, choosing one path over another.
For example:
You are in the earth of me
You as tu seems more like a loved one and I can find a whole portion of the song that can tell this story, where the you is the she. Even if I found it strange that she is the old witch.
But then there is : My head’s not yours it’s mine
Who is you, that time ? The old witch ? The loved one ? Or is it a plural you ? If so, who are they ? The hollering hollow folk ?
And suddenly I had a new story in my head that I didn't see at first. And that is strangely filling the gaps. What if there is just only one person and every other character is just part of himself while he is battling an anxiety attack.
The old witch is the "reason" that wants him to settle and the old man is the "fighting" part of himself that kicks in when he is at the lowest. Then the "hollering hollow folk" are simultaneously the things that initiated the anxiety attack and the anxiety itself - voices in one's head when one is spiraling.
Then "my head’s not yours it’s mine" is him telling his anxiety that he will not let them get over him. And he fights back till he is strong enough to scare it. But not scare it away. He is accepting it as part of himself and knows he can win over it.
Cos I’m not trapped with you you see
You’re the one who’s trapped with me
"You are in the earth of me" rings differently then. I understand "to be in the earth of me" as to be in the fabric of my being. If you is tu aka the loved one, it is so sweet and beautiful. But if you are the hollow folk / the anxiety, then it's acceptance.
Cos we’ll dance together so close we’re sharing breath
But now I’m leading doesn’t that just scare you to death
Cos I’m all yours, you’re all mine
Let’s dance together, you and I
They merge and he wins.
The song itself seems constructed in three acts.
First part is slow and sad : the descent as the anxiety is nursing and then makes him spiraling down.
The old witch is himself trying to be reasonable and to settle. Trying to detach himself from the harm of critics or online bashing.
You don’t have to be brilliant
She says as she scrolls
Through the rolls that the millions
Of hollering hollow folk know how to play
It’s ok
They’re just shadows searching for light
They can’t stay
I love that metaphor. And it fits both the hollow folk and the anxieties. And he fails. Alcohol is his way to deal with it, yet it's not enough.
Then the hollow folk come, pour me wine by my bed (excuse me but that is so beautifully said 🥺)
And there is the beginning of the descent.
And their dead hollers hum at the things that I’ve said
And say no, no, no, no
Then, act 2, this is the part he is down. Too much drinking and resignation. He thinks even "the good man" has left aka his will to fight back, even if he has a moment of clarity. But he doesn't believe he can win yet.
You’re better than this
He says as a hand slaps my face as I stand (one's hand… his own ? Who knows)
And say no good man grace
I can’t do this (you can) [...]
I can’t do this you don’t understand
Then the old witch still wants him to calm down but the alcohol wins over reason even if its words are so powerful. I could put all of those lyrics down as outstandingly inspiring and tattoo them all on my body …
In this part, there is anger. There is sorrow. There is despair. But this time the chorus is more an acceptance of the state he is in than the blatant constatation and the unsure statement of the first part.
You are in the earth of me
My head’s not yours it’s mine
And that's when he fights back.
The third act - the blues - is his slow victory over himself. He is deeply intoxicated but he finds strength. The music style is so well chosen to have this kind of slurred enunciation but escalating into a clearer version by the end.
He is so used to that state, he knows how to crumble back up.
And it echoes the "I know" full of rage and pain from the chorus just before. By the way, the way he screams it gives me shivers, everytime.
Cos I’ve been here so many times before
Don’t you think I look pretty
Curled up on this bathroom floor
Cos where you see weakness I see wit
Sometimes I fall to pieces
Just to see what bits of me don’t fit
Then he gets over it. The blues is grittier and more aggressive as he is building up back. He accepts this part of himself and refuses to bend. He is the one in charge of his own head.
Cos I’m not trapped with you you see
You’re the one who’s trapped with me
Over and over like a mantra. And then the chorus comes back full force and this time it's a battle cry and one that means victory!
You are in the earth of me
My head’s not yours it’s mine
And I’ll take my fucking time
Cos I know, I know, I know (This is so powerful and energising)
I don't know if I'm right, but I like to believe that it was just a metaphorical battle between him and "hims" all along. The pattern of demons, people without a face or voices are often used for fears in the songs so… why not this time too.
