"At The Top Of The Steps The Front Gate Swung Gently, Gently. It Came Slowly To A Halt."

Late nights and soft saviors

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.

Realizing that Lockwood was protecting Lucy the whole time by taking all the fame and attention onto his shoulders. He wasn’t the one who should’ve been praised, it was Lucy. He was just a screen that was pulled down to protect her and her gift.

not to be insane about her on main but you know I never stopped thinking about jessica right. you know I never stopped thinking about jess lockwood

shes like. she's JESS.

shes haunting the narrative. she's haunting lockwood. shes haunting nothing at all, in the literal sense, which is rather strange. shes in Lucy's face and the way she stands at the door. shes got lockwoods eyes, or maybe hes got hers. she's burned into her bedset. she's burned into her house. she's burned into wood. she's a broken pot. she's a clumsy rapier. she's waiting at the apple tree. shes sleeping under her covers. she likes stickers. she's a kid, she's a guardian, she's not going to take off the baby wallpaper in her bedroom. she's clung to youth. she's forced to grow up. she's younger than her baby brother. she's the world. shes important enough to die for. she's important enough to live because of. she's blue and swollen and on the floor and dead. she's pale and smiling and holding her brother in her lap, immortalized, shoved in a dresser drawer because somebody couldnt handle seeing her face.

she's that important. she's that important.

she's a lockwood, she's a mirror, she's lucy joan carlyle and anthony john lockwood and a reminder and a child and doomed, doomed, doomed in such a way that she could save everyone else.

she's the boxes lockwood couldn't open. she's the right time. she's warm feathers and stitches purposefully undone.

in her childishly wallpapered room, she is sitting, watching, cross legged on her bed.

8 random lockwood hcs bc im bored

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

Yet another thing I find absolutely wonderful about how Jonathan Stroud wrote Lucy Carlyle is how he betrays her with the narrative.

In The Screaming Staircase, at the start of her story, Lucy gives us an idea of how she wants to be perceived; unaffected, unbothered, unburdened by fear or particularly revelatory emotions. She drops horrifically painful realities about her childhood on us as if she were describing a dull gray rock she found on the ground. She tries very, very hard to school her emotions around Lockwood and George. And if she had been written by anyone else, she might have fallen prey to the "strong independent female character" tar pit of a stereotype.

But then along comes Annabel Ward's ghost.

And the narrative looks at Lucy and says "I know how you wish to present yourself, but that's not who you are."

And Lucy is repeatedly shown to be incredibly Sensitive in so many ways. She is under the influence of the ghost of Annie Ward, but the emotions are still partly Lucy's. And most of the time she has the emotional intelligence to differentiate which feelings are hers and which ones are Annie's, and where they overlap. She chokes up with empathy on multiple occasions in the process of uncovering what happened to Annie Ward. She becomes enflamed with the desire for justice for someone who was murdered decades before she was born. She's shown that by her very nature, her emotions are her strength and not her weakness. Because she has a narrative that loves her and isn't lazy about her. She is the narrator and she tells us who she is, but the narrative shows her and us who she really is.

sometimes i think about

[x]

I really want to make a really pretty oil painting of Lockwood and then do the thing where they smudge it to look all ghostly

i need luke thoughts…… im having luke/charlie bushnell brain rot…….

ok omg hi i just saw this & i’m in the mood for it SOOOO…. first thought that came to mind is luke is DEF the kind of bf to let you colour his tattoos 😫 he’d also 100% have your initial or name or smth tattooed somewhere on him…. probs was his first one too actually! i imagine it to be on his chest right above his heart and whenever u get jealous or upset or smth he just takes your hand and guides it to where the tattoo is and says smth like “no one else lives here but you” HOW COULD ANYONE BE MAD AT THAT???? 😣 luke is also a very good cook/baker except he specializes in breakfast foods specifically cause if one kid in the hermes cabin woke up earlier than usual they’d wake up all the others (i feel like anyone who’s lived in that cabin turns into a light sleeper out of fear LMAO 😭) n then they’d all wanna eat breakfast so luke would sneak into the kitchen n make pancakes n wtv 😇 (soz if chb doesn’t have a kitchen my pjo has been RUSTY LMAO) he doesn’t seem like the type to be this good at making food tho so you’re a little skeptical at first but he eventually convinces you to try one bite andddd let’s just say you will never be visiting a restaurant ever again 😁 also he & jason r part of the ARMS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! club 😫 his arms r acc his fave feature and he LOVESSS when you’re walking together and you have your arms wrapped around his 😣 he always teases you about it too but then HE gets all upset if you separate yourself from him while you’re walking 🙁

"I disobeyed the first, most crucial rule.

I hung back at the doorway, hesitant and afraid."

vehicular manslaughter chappell roan be like you can hit a hundred boys with cars