#I was a chubby kid and my mom prodded me about my weight a lot

[yikesharringrove]

billy and steve would both be such dilfs. i feel like when billy starts putting on weight, he gets really insecure about it, is afraid steve won’t think he’s sexy anymore. but steve will practically throw himself at billy the second he gets back from dropping their kids off at baseball practice. and now that billy didn’t work out as much (other than a morning jog) they got to spend more time together.

and steve would be really insecure about getting wrinkles and just getting old in general because he grew up listening to his mom complaining about her wrinkles and how they made her ugly. but billy would love them because they showed how much he made steve smile and laugh. he’d press kisses all over steve’s face. and billy would just be so happy that he’s going to grow old with the love of his life, which is something he never thought he deserved.

“Okay, what about a little-” Steve placed a finger on either temple and cheekbone, lightly pulling “just a tiny lift.”

Billy was standing behind Steve, watching as he nitpicked over himself in the mirror.

He was prodding at the wrinkles around his eyes, mussing up his hair.

It was still long and thick, his barber told him a month ago that’s Steve’s the only client that asks to have his hair thinned out. But he was going greyer everyday. It began around his temples, the moved up. He used to plug the sliver hairs, until suddenly there was more salt and pepper than brown and he threw in the towel.

Billy loved the grey hairs, called Steve my silver fox of a husband. Steve threatened to dye it all back to brown at least once a week.

“Baby, leave your face alone. I like it.” Steve pouted at him in the mirror.

“Just look so damn old. Don’t know how you can even stand to look at me.”

Billy moved forward, pressing against Steve’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“You’re still hot as all fuck.” Billy reached up to brush his fingers over the lines on Steve’s face. He thumbed the hairline valleys around Steve’s eyes, dropping to dust feather-light fingertips around his mouth. “See these? All from laughing.”

“My mom warned me about laugh lines.”

“Nothin’ to be ashamed off. Means you’ve been happy.” And that, that’s why Billy loves them so much. They show that he’s made Steve happy, that their life together has made him happy. Billy could fuckin’ cry at the thought.

Steve turned around in his arms, draping his arms loosely over Billy’s shoulders. He had that soft little smirk on his face. And Billy fucking knows that look.

“We got two hours ‘til I gotta pick up Chloe.”

Steve’s eyes only got brighter.

“Then what are we doing with clothes on?”

Billy barked a laugh at that. Steve swooped in to plant a kiss on Billy’s cheek, flouncing past him, turning around halfway through the bedroom to face Billy, flopping backwards onto the bed.

He reached up, making grabby hands in Billy’s general direction.

Billy rolled his eyes.

How many years and Steve is still a fucking brat.

He wouldn’t have it any other way though.

Billy approached him, kneeling between Steve’s spread legs, leaning over to plant his forearms on either side of Steve’s head.

Steve was already yanking at the buttons on his flannel shirt, opening it up and pushing it as best as he could off Billy’s shoulders.

Steve liked to call Billy’s current look lumberjack dad chic.

There were a lot of flannels involved. His beard had some grey streaks running through it.

He had decided to lean into the whole vibe a few years ago.

Billy started putting on weight in his late twenties.

He wasn’t working out as viciously as he used to. Coupled with the fact that Steve is a really good cook and his metabolism slowing down, chubbiness was inevitable.

It used to get under his skin, every time he’d have to buy new pants, go up a size or two on the waist band.

But something interesting happened when his gut began to settle in.

Steve couldn’t keep his damn hands to himself.

He was insatiable. Their sex life had never been so good.

So Billy felt pretty okay about it.

Plus he’s like, a dad now. He doesn’t have to be the most fuckable guy in town anymore. (But Steve says he’ll always be the most fuckable guy in town. Billy appreciates it.)

And something about being fat and happy makes him a little misty. Spending lazy mornings in bed with his husband instead of going to the gym. Eating the rich foods presented to him with a kiss and a smile.

It’s like Steve’s laugh lines.

Marks of growing old together.

Because Billy never thought he’d see thirty.

Thought Neil would get to him before then. Or maybe his own rage.

And Steve thought he’d never find anyone that loved in the same way he did, as all-consuming and enormous. He thought he’d be divorced and depressed by now.

But they’ve got family together, and furniture they share, and a goddamn house, and children.

And Billy’s lived past thirty. He’s closing in on fifty now, which is scary in a totally different way.

And Steve’s got someone that would go to the ends of the Earth for him, who loves him as much as he loves.

And they’ve got this shared history, these matching scars and tattoos and wrinkles.

And they’ve watched each other grow old, when neither of them thought that was going to be in the cards for them.

And Steve’s got lines on his face and grey in his hair, and Billy’s got soft fat covering all his bulky muscles and his kids tell him he gives the world’s best hugs, and it feels like they did the impossible. Grew up together. Grew happy together.

And Steve comes with Billy to pick up their daughter, and they hold hands the entire drive there.

Just because they can.

[acelikesturtles]

“Crushed”

Prompt: #2 (Childhood Best Friends AU)

Warnings: Mention/Experience of Childhood Bullying, Angsty

Word Count: 2,201

A/N: This is from this ask game that I posted a while back and just now was able to fully get around to. This is a little more angsty than it is fluffy at first, but the end result is kinda cuddly and fluffy if you ask me lol. I obviously took quite a few creative liberties with the interpretation (because this is an AU prompt) and the set up was rather heavily inspired from the vibe/aesthetics from the now abandoned fanfiction I wrote back in 2013/14. It was nice to be able to get back into that headset again, I miss that fanfiction a lot actually. That may be why it took me so long to get this finished? Reminded me a lot of what once was and it was healthy to be able to reflect on some of those old creative notions and get some of that out.

The moment Mikey stepped onto his balcony and into the crisp, early summer air, a gust of cool wind hit his lightly freckled cheeks and carried the smell of freshly roasted marshmallows, smoke, and melting chocolate through the breeze. As of only a few hours ago it was officially summer vacation. For Mikey, seeing his three best friends gathered around a small propane fire pit pelting marshmallows at each other gave him a sense of zen that his mother would not be able to sympathize with given the mess and the ruckus unfolding on their balcony that the landlord would surely complain about the next morning.

“Ow! Raph that could’ve cracked my lenses!”

Donnie frowned and removed his glasses to wipe the powder and mess from the right lens with the sleeve of his dark grey hoodie. In an act of childish revenge and in solidarity for the quietest of the group, Leo grabbed a handful of marshmallows out of the bag in front of them and threw them at Raph, only for the quarterback to catch a few sugary bullets in his mouth instead of allowing them all to go to waste on the concrete beneath them.

“Nice try, fearless.” Raph laughed through a half-chewed mouthful of marshmallows.

Mikey sat down on the remaining patio chair, the squeaky green one that he usually reserved for Leo just to annoy him, and began snapping graham crackers over his paper plate while Leo handed squares of chocolate out.

"How was your last day, Raph?" Leo asked, dropping the chocolate square onto Raph’s paper plate. Raph was too busy trying to finish the unintentional 'Chubby Bunny Challenge' he had started. With one clearly painful swallow which almost provoked the turtle to tears followed by a couple hard fist pounds on his plastron, he cleared his throat before giving an unceremonious shrug of his shoulders.

"It was alright. Mrs. Barkley wanted us to write a letter to our future selves er somethin' stupid like that. Kinda lame if you ask me."

"Hey, I thought that was fun, dude, don't ruin the vibes!" Mikey pouted. Even though Raph and Mikey happened to share the same teacher, that didn’t mean that their experience in her class was at all similar to one another. This was in part because Mikey was often pulled for extra assistance and missed some of the in-class instruction. This didn’t annoy him most of the time since he was typically pulled during math class and numbers never failed to make him exceptionally sleepy. "Did you even write anything?" He asked, swatting at a mosquito that had landed on his thigh.

"Yeah sure," Raph waved his hand at him nonchalantly, then leaned back in his patio chair so far that he almost tipped himself over. "Nothin special, just words, you know."

Leo clucked his tongue and shook his head. He was smirking. Leonardo carefully skewered a marshmallow and held it over the gas flame before looking back up at Raph. He had leaned forward in his chair again and was digging in the marshmallow bag for the biggest, puffiest marshmallow that he could find. "Yeah, and what are you gonna do when your mom wants to see it?" Leo asked in a challenging tone.

"Who said she's gonna?" Raph countered back as he stabbed his marshmallow rather aggressively onto his skewer.

While Raph and Leo continued yet again to engage in a pointless discussion about the value of doing busy work, respecting elders and all the other boring stuff that Leo learned from his dad’s dojo, Donnie and Mikey were left to fend for themselves with their friends' arguing voices serving as a backdrop like it usually did. Mikey looked up at Don’s particularly well adapted technique for marshmallow roasting and did his best to try to subtly imitate it. By slowly rotating the skewer in his hands, Donnie would undoubtedly get an even roast on his marshmallow and the perfect, ASMR-inducing crunch when he placed his graham cracker on top. Don had been noticeably quiet for the most part, focused on cleaning his glasses after Raph’s earlier ambush. At first Mikey didn’t think much of his quiet demeanor since, at times, this was normal for him; sitting back and listening to everyone else was more mutually beneficial than blabbing on and on about what he did in his gifted extension classes, especially since the only details and stories that Mikey and Raph found interesting included local “hottie-of-a-teacher” Ms. Carlton.

What made this period of quiet different was how glazed over Donnie’s eyes seemed coupled with an unusually tired expression for a day that was supposed to be nothing but fun with friends. There was some sort of tension bearing weight on Don’s shoulders that Mikey wanted to relieve, even if it meant just being a comfort.

“Hey Don, how was your day?” Mikey asked, breaking the turtle from his trance. Donnie blinked a couple of times before pushing his tortoiseshell glasses up a little on the bridge of his nose with his index finger. He made a face, one that expressed some combination of anxiety and unspoken discomfort over being confronted, then tried to shrug it off.

“It was alright. We didn’t do anything like what you or Raph did.” He said. A light smile tugged at the corners of his lips but it still seemed more tired than it did genuine.

"Course not," Raph chimed in. He had broken away from one pointless discussion for long enough to insert himself into another to escape from Major Lieutenant Leo’s endless lectures. "You probably made like, a rocket ship or somethin'. The USS Nerd-Brain, right?” He joked and nudged him with an elbow playfully.

“No, that was last month's project. Today was just final project presentations, everybody had to do one.”

“That’s what you made the solar energy converter thingy for.” Leo acknowledged.

Donnie resisted the urge to correct his terminology and nodded. “Yep, I got the best grade.”

“Then why do you look so uncomfortable talking about it?” Mikey asked. It was the obvious question that had likely been on Raph and Leo’s minds too now that he had drawn attention to it, but Mikey was apparently the only one with the balls to bring it up so nonchalantly as if it wasn’t going to trigger Donnie to metaphorically slink back into his shell and never come back out again.

A silence fell over the group only punctuated by honking horns and distant ambulance sirens. All eyes had turned towards Donnie who was now fully thrust under the spotlight. He swallowed. After about ten seconds with no response from him other than the appearance of the slightest red tint on his cheeks, he cleared his throat and removed his marshmallow from the flame and set it onto his graham cracker.

“It was Grant. You probably don’t know him, he-” He froze in the middle of a thought and sighed through his nose in defeat. “We...got into an argument.”

“Why?” Raph asked, scrunching his nose up in disgust. “Do I gotta hit this kid?”

Don snorted. “No, I handled it myself. Sort of...ish.”

“Sort of? Donnie, what exactly happened?” Leo frowned.

At first he wanted to dodge the question but he knew that the more he put off answering, the more poking and prodding at the subject matter would result. He closed his eyes, scrunching them up really tight while gripping and lightly massaging his nose right beneath the bridge for his glasses. With his other hand, Donnie grabbed his now completed s'more and took a single bite, feeling that sweet, sugary relief wash over him that had notably been absent before.

"I was presenting my project and there was this girl—is this girl, Lucy," He corrected himself. "You probably also don't know her but, she's kinda pretty and—"

“Woah woah, how pretty we talking?” Mikey butted in. His investment in this story had suddenly peaked. “On a scale of “cute” to “total babe”, how would you rank her?”

“Brunette?” Raph guessed. “Not a brunette, okay. Redhead? Blonde?”

“Totally a blonde.” Mikey snorted and gestured towards Donnie’s face, which despite his best efforts was still managing to grow redder by the second from embarrassment. “Am I right or am I right? She’s a blonde, isn’t she?”

Donnie brought himself back into the focus of his own conversation rather than answering what felt like a silly question given his circumstances. "Listen, I'm not her type."

"Says who?" Asked Raph.

"Says Grant, who told me I'm on his turf." Donnie grumbled under his breath.

"What, he knows what she's thinking?" Raph snorted.

“No, but-”

“Then go for it!” Mikey cheered.

“You don’t-”

“Grant isn’t the boss of you Donnie, you should talk to her.” Leo joined in.

There was a faint ringing in Donnie’s head that grew louder and louder the more he listened to their voices merge into one, all chanting for him to do what he felt like he just couldn’t, drowning out his words amidst a sea of voices that were louder and prouder than his was. It was only a matter of time before the feeling of being ignored became too much, and he had had enough. “Don’t you understand?” Donnie snapped. “Grant doesn’t want me on his “turf” because I’m a mutant!” He took a deep breath in, then slowly released it through his nose, to try and calm down. “She probably thinks I’m a freak.”

Everyone paused and yet again another quiet came over them. Mikey’s eyes drifted down towards the concrete beneath their feet, mind busy with thoughts that he had always kept in the back of his mind that were now plaguing him again. He never liked to think about the fact that their status as mutants hindered their ability to find friends or someday fall in love, but Donnie was saying it too. If the smartest one in their little posse was falling prey to the same cycle of thoughts that he often had before falling asleep at night, what did that mean about the validity of those thoughts?

“Do you know that for sure?” Leo asked, breaking the silence with a calm and collected tone that was so characteristic for his zen demeanor.

Don shook his head. “But Grant does. So do his friends, I mean look at me--look at us.”

“So, we’re mutants,” Leo sighed and pulled his marshmallow from the gas flame. It was perfectly toasted to an even golden brown on all sides and oozed out the sides of his s’more when he put another graham cracker on top. “I don’t believe we’re freaks though.”

Raph gave Leo a look, then laughed. “How do you figure?”

“Well, my dad always says that we can create our own truth,” Leo explained, earning an eye roll from Raphael who again seemed caught in a never ending cycle of lectures that Leo picked up from his dad. “So even if Grant thinks that we’re freaks...we have the final say on whether or not we feel that’s true.”

“Yeah, and what if this Lucy chick thinks that he’s a freak too? No offense, Donnie.” Raph said, patting Don on the shoulder in consolation. “You can’t just make that not true, genius.”

“No, that’s not the point,” Leo countered, then turned to Donnie. “What Grant says doesn’t matter because he doesn’t control how we think about ourselves or what you think is true. You do.”

Donnie blinked once. Twice. He looked down at the concrete again and shuffled his feet around beneath him, feeling a little silly that he had wasted his last day of 8th grade feeling gloomy and sad while looking at Lucy with wistful eyes that felt they had no chance on earth of ever meeting hers in a way that wasn’t just as friends. Was what Grant said actually the truth, or was he just allowing it to be the truth like Leo was suggesting? Would it be easier to stay away from Lucy and let Grant take his swing at her then risk a lifetime of heartache if he was rejected by her for being what he was?

Without warning, two arms wrapped around his slumped over shoulders and he looked up from the ground to see that Mikey had gotten up from his squeaky chair and was fully latched onto Donnie’s side.

“Its okay bro, I think you’re pretty awesome.” Mikey mumbled into Donnie’s shoulder.

“Me too, for the record.” Raph joined in, giving Donnie a playfully affectionate punch on the opposite arm.

A sigh escaped through Donnie’s nostrils chased down by a genuine smile. It was a gradual process, but he was beginning to feel a little better. Maybe Lucy did think that he was a freak like Grant had told him, or maybe Grant was just making it all up. His chances weren’t completely gone yet, and he had the whole summer ahead of him to have fun and forget about people like Grant and focus on more important things like science camp, gifted extension applications for the next semester, and then...maybe working up the balls to say something to Lucy.

Yeah, maybe that was what he would do.

[ladywinchester1967]

Two Little Winchesters

Type: One Shot

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Y/N (Female)

Paring: Dean x Y/N (briefly mentioned)

Warnings: Swearing, sick!Dean, sick!Sam, de-aged characters, fluff, mothering tendencies. 

A/N: I’m holding @ain-t-bovvered and @waywardnerd67 responsible for this one. Just a short, quick little something for ya’ll!!

Disclaimer: Unbeta’d, all mistakes ARE mine. Art is NOT mine, credit goes to the original artist (image found on Pinterest).

When Y/N woke up the next morning, little kids shouting was not the first thing she expected to hear.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

“WHAT DID I DO?! WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

She quickly got out of bed and put her glasses on, fumbling out of her and Dean’s shared bedroom. The site in front of her was also something she never expected.

There were Sam and Dean bickering; but they weren’t the Sam and Dean she knew. The guys she knew were big, beautiful piles of flannel with hearts of solid gold. They could flip from caring to deadly with a single look between them.

In front of her now, were two small children that she only knew because of pictures Dean had shown her. Dean was about a head taller than Sam; with blonde hair, prominent freckles, bright green eyes and chubby cheeks. Sam, well, Sam was tiny. He had chestnut brown hair that flopped into his hazel eyes and equally chubby cheeks. They were both wearing their own t-shirts, but they looked like they were drowning in fabric.

“Oh my god.” she said, my eyes wide.

They both turned and Dean’s expression went from furious to soft.

“Sweetheart,” he said sounding exactly like a child would “I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What the hell happened to you two?!” she asked “You’re what? Maybe five or six years old?”

“Six,” Dean corrected “which makes Sammy here two.” He added with a snort

“It’s not funny!” Tiny Sam squeaked out “I told you it was an accident!”

“Sam, were you messing around with those fucking spell books again?” she asked, her hand on my forehead.

“I wasn’t messing around!” Sam cried “I didn’t mean to read it out loud, it just happened and now look at us!”

“Hey, why didn’t it affect Y/N?” Dean asked

“I don’t know.” Sam said and sneezed, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve.

“Ew, don’t sneeze on me!” Dean exclaimed and backed away from Sam.

“You’re not getting sick are you?” Y/N asked and walked towards Sam.

“No,” Sam whined “I’m fine.”

Y/N pushed Sam’s hair off of his forehead and pressed her hand to it; it felt like it was on fire.

“God Sam, you’re running a fever!” Y/N exclaimed “go get back in bed, I’m gonna make some coffee and get to the store to get you some medicine.”

“We have medicine here.” Dean pointed out before coughing.

“For adults, not little kids.” Y/N pointed out as Dean kept coughing. “You too huh?”

“No,” Dean insisted when his coughing had subsided “I’m fine. I’ll go with you.”

Y/N placed her hand on Dean’s forehead, which was equally hot.

“Oh no,” she said “back to bed, both of you.”

“But-“ the Winchesters started to insist

“Bed. NOW.” Y/N said, doing her best impression of her own mother.

Dejected, both boys wandered into Sam’s room while Y/N set her coffee to brew. She found a thermometer in the kitchen and took both of their temperatures. True to her suspicions, they were both running a fever. Dean complained that his head and throat hurt while Sam told her that his nose felt like a faucet.

“Yeesh,” Y/N said “okay, first thing’s first. I have to bring down your temperatures. My mom always gave us tepid baths, so we’ll try that first. Castiel can watch you guys while I go to the store.”

“Why can’t we go with you?” Dean whined

“Because I don’t have car seats for you two and child protective services will be up my ass in no time.” Y/N said.

“I don’t feel good.” Dean complained. Normally when he was sick, he got a little whiny. Symptoms of a man cold, according to Y/N’s Mom. The child in front of her though nearly broke her heart; he looked so sad and helpless. Poor Sam had it the worst; the coughs wracked his tiny body and he pouted.

“I’m gonna pull something if I don’t quit coughing soon.” He whined.

“I’m sorry guys,” Y/N apologized “but I’ll get this bath going and call Cas. You two hang tight.”

Dean laid back against the pillows while Sam laid on is side.

With no tubs in the Men of Letters bunker; Y/N made use of the supersized double sink. She prepared a bath while she called Castiel and filled him in.

“I could go to the store.” Castiel said

“I know, but I need you here more while I’m gone.” Y/N insisted “Someone has to sit with them.”

“Okay, I’ll be there shortly.” Castiel said and hung up.

Once the sink was full enough; she set each Winchester in a side of the sink. Neither of them was pleased about the temperature of the water, but it did bring their fevers down a little bit. Once she had them dried off and in a fresh t-shirt, she put them back into bed just as Castiel arrived. She gave him the run down and then added

“Just make sure they stay in bed and relax. Put on a movie for them or something? I shouldn’t be gone for too long.”

“You,” Castiel said “you’re good at this.”

“What?” Y/N asked

“Being a parent.” Castiel pointed out

“I’m the oldest of six, I would hope I know a few things.” Y/N said.

She quickly got dressed and then went back into Sam’s room. Sam had gone to sleep while Dean and Castiel talked.

“Okay, I’m going to the store. I’ll be right back.” Y/N announced.

“Be careful please.” Tiny Dean insisted as he coughed.

“I will.” Y/N said and kissed his forehead.

When she got to the store; she found some children’s cough medicine, some Vick’s vapor rub and children’s Tylenol. She stumbled across some lollipops that promised to sooth sore throats so she added that other cart as well. She then added boxes of tissues, orange juice, cans of chicken noodle and tomato soup and a bag of rice.

“Uh oh,” the cashier said as she scanned out Y/N’s items “your little one sick?”

“Both of them,” Y/N quickly lied “oldest is six, the little one is two.”

“Oh no! Poor things!” the cashier said with sympathy “Hope they get to feeling better soon!”

“Thank you.” Y/N said.

When she returned home, she could hear both Sam and Dean coughing. Y/N quickly left the food in the kitchen and nearly ran to Sam’s room and it was a site to see. Castiel looked totally frazzled and both Winchesters looked completely miserable. Without his grace, Castiel couldn’t help them and trying to sooth two sick children wasn’t anywhere in his long history of being an angel.

“I’m back!” Y/N said catching all of their attentions.

“FINALLY!” they said in unison.

Y/N started out by giving Sam and Dean the appropriate dosage of cough medicine and Tylenol. After that was over, she gave them each a lollipop and made sure they were comfortable. Poor, little Sam had snort running down his nose and Y/N wiped it away.

“Thank you.” Sam said weakly as he laid back against the pillows.

“You’re welcome,” Y/N said and then looked at Dean “what about you handsome? Feeling okay?”

“My head still hurts.” Dean complained, going to town on his lollipop.

“Give the medicine a chance to kick in,” Y/N insisted “I got soup if you want some.”

“Please?” Dean asked, his eyes hopeful.

“You got it.” She said and ruffled his hair.

Outside Sam’s room, Castile waited and offered to research the book Sam had been reading.

“Maybe there’s a way to reverse the spell in there.” Castiel said

“Sounds good to me,” Y/N said “I’ll tend to them. Let me know if you find anything.”

“We’re lucky to have you, you know?” Castiel asked with a fond smile.

“Thanks Cas.” Y/N said.

Y/N whipped up a batch of tomato and rice soup and brought both Sam and Dean a bowl with a glass of orange juice.

“Can we get up now?” Dean asked as he finished his soup.

“No, you two have to rest. We can watch a movie or even some Game of Thrones, but ya’ll have to relax.”

“Can I have some more juice?” Sam asked, he still looked miserable, but a little less so.

“Sure, anything else while I’m up?” Y/N asked

“Another lollipop, please.” Dean asked sweetly.

“Help yourself Dean.” Y/N said and handed him the bag.

“Dude,” Sam said as Y/N walked out of the room “quit hogging all the suckers!”

“Bite me okay?!” Dean snapped back and Y/N shook her head as she walked away.

When Y/N came back with Sam’s juice; she settled between the two Winchesters and they settled on watching The Princess Bride. Once the movie got started, Dean had snuggled up next to Y/N, his head nestled against her chest.

“Aren’t you hot?” She asked Dean and he shook his head, meaning no. She used her nails to tenderly scratch the top of his head. As the movie went on, she felt a weight on her other side, she looked and saw Sam leaning up against her arm, his attention still on the TV. She rolled her eyes and quickly grabbed a tissue with her free hand, wiping his nose. He looked up at her and gave her the sweetest little boy smile. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder. And he settled against her arm.

Without meaning to; Y/N and both Winchesters had dozed off during the movie. When Y/N woke up however, she felt like she was in the middle of a heat wave. Her eyes flew open and she realized, while she was still laying between Sam and Dean, they were back to their regular ages and sizes. Meaning she was basically trapped between two furnaces as they snoozed on.

“This is it,” she thought “this is how I die. Heat exhaustion.”

She gently prodded Dean, who groaned.

“Dean, wake up.” Y/N said

Dean’s eyes opened and he realized what was going on.

“Oh, sorry.” He said sleepily and released her. She got out of the bed, which woke up Sam.

“What happened?” Sam asked with a yawn.

“I reversed the spell.” Castiel said, appearing in the room “By then, all of you were asleep so I thought it was best to leave you be.”

“Aw, well that was sweet.” Y/N said “I think I sweated enough to where I need A LOT of water.”

Both Winchesters chuckled and Dean got up to go get in his own bed.

The next day, both Sam and Dean were feeling better. Not quite at 100% but definitely on the mend.

“Thanks for taking care of us.” Sam said

“Seriously Y/N, you stepped up and knocked it out of the park.” Dean said, eating another bowl of soup.

“Ya’ll sure do know how to make a girl blush!” Y/N said with a smile.

Love it? Wanna share the love?? DO THOSE THINGS PLEASE AND THANK YOU!!! Hope ya’ll enjoyed this!

Taglock Holmes:

@familybusinesswritingbro @waywardbaby @depressed-moose-78 @mrswhozeewhatsis @sis-tafics @kittenofdoomage @xscarletxedgex @sugarprincess3

[youimaginetube]

(I found this blog and read everything there is to read) How about a scene where the reader comes back home after a horrible family reunion and they're feeling the absolute worst of themselves. Jack comforts them after a long day of work.

thank you for reading through my blog!! it means a lot! this is a great request, i hardly ever get anything for jack. i hope you enjoy, tysm!!

Family Reunion

If you had enough fingers to count how many times one of your distant family members made a jab at you today, you'd be a mutant. From your weight (on either spectrum, skinny or chubby), to your height, to your hair to your clothes to your personal life.

Your uncle Adam ended up prodding at you for twenty minutes straight about "that boyfriend of yours" and when you're having kids (six months into dating, of course). Joey, your cousin, asked why Jack wasn't here with you. Everyone seemed offended that you were late and had a day job, and even more offended about the fact that Jack had a job and although he really wanted to come, he cared so much about his schedule that he stayed home. Working was a sin, who knew.

Alexandra made special care to tell you how your hair looked unnatural and like you were "trying too hard to get attention, are you cheating?" To top it off, she said that your clothes looked like you were choking yourself in a collar. But it was still "an improvement from last year's" when you wore something equally modest and normal. Passive aggressive realtives that don't know how to actually be passive aggressive drive you up the wall.

Adam and Alexandra are married for good reason, it seems. At least little Joey didn't know much better, and you almost longed to take care of the small kids that were brought here over eating with your judgemental relatives.

You were desperate to get in your car the minute it seemed appropriate to leave. Of course, your mom and dad and grandparents were overly sweet and told you to try to get Jack out of the house next time. You said that you'd try, but the workaholic in him probably wouldn't let up. He almost seems jittery when he stops working after getting into a groove. You admire his consistency, and envy his drive, but pity his need to be busy. If you had a dollar for every time he relaxed, you'd be really, really broke.

The drive home was long and filled with traffic and overexcited texts from the family who'd forced you to give over your phone number. At least it's better than all of your social medias exploding. Jack mentioned offhandedly that having personal accounts is damn near impossible when you get popular in a rant one night. The boy needs sleep, and you need him to give you a long hug and watch a movie next to you. If you can drag him from his computer chair, that is.

You love him, and he's busy, and you're busy, but what's important is you make time for each other. You go on walks and talk and stay in the same room, reading while he edits and making conversation. You cook together.

When you walk into the house, Jack is leaning in the kitchen doorway, drinking from a mug. You drop your bag on the floor with a loud clatter, and a big sigh escapes from the wells of your lungs. Your brain has gone absolutely numb. Jack raises an eyebrow with an uncontained giggle. You return it with a very tired smile.

"My family basically just played the game of 'what's everything we hate about Y/N this year'? And I swear, my aunt can be so rude about what I look like. Everybody seemed like they wanted to meet you instead of see me, and overall, I took the child protection duty over the actual family chatting duty. I'm spent."

Sean's smile turns to one of empathy. He sets his glass down and goes to give you a hug.

"Sorry you had to deal with that. It's so shit of people to make anyone, especially their own family, feel like that. I don't even really care how you look. You can do that thing where you wake up and walk around like that in public, and I'll still be happy."

"Really? You're being honest?" You ask, breathing him in and holding him, because he feels like the only real affection you've gotten all day.

"Why would I lie? I'm pretty sure you're one of the only people who make me smile when I'm not overwhelmed with work. You make me want to take time off so I can spend it with you."

"God, you're the best, Sean."

Holding him is enough.

[prettyfall]

I am struggling with loving myself. What a common narrative, “23 year old girl has self image issues” how fucking cliche. It’s unbelievable to me that I can’t really think of a time in my life where I ever really loved myself. The closest I ever came to that was maybe a strong like at best when I was around 18, but that was mostly due to the fact that I had a bunch of hormone enraged teenage boys lusting after me, which isn’t really a good reason to like yourself. 

I guess it all stems from when I was younger. As a child I was always heavier, not fat but just “bigger boned” as a lot of my family members would say, which is fucking bull shit by the way. Everyone’s bones are the same, there aren’t people walking around with fat bones, just fat bodies, but I digress.

I remember going to the doctor every year for a physical and being weighed by the nurse, unlike most kids I always dreaded the scale but never the needles. My brother and sister would tear up while getting their finger pricked but I took it like a champ. However, when it came time for them to get weighed they never gave it a second thought. I stepped on the scale each time while holding my breath, the loud clunk of the machine as each foot touched the platform always made me shudder. 

After the full exam my mom and I would head into Dr. Lieberman’s office. It was a fairly decent sized room with windows lining the left wall, there were plaques of his medical accolades covering the dark paint and a large brown desk in the center of the room with two chairs facing it. I distinctly remember the scratchy wool material as I would always nervously run my hand back and forth the arm of the chair.  We’d sit across from him while he went over my results. By every standard I was considered a normal child, except for my weight. Dr. Lieberman would turn his computer screen to face us and show me where I fell on a chart with other children my age. There was an obnoxious red line that zig zagged all the way to the top of the chart. He would take his bony finger and point it at a small dot, that dot represented me, and that dot was always at the very highest point. He would explain to me that I was above average for my age range, overweight would be the correct terminology to use, but he never said that. He was always very kind in the way he went about explaining things to me, and never seemed overly concerned, and neither did my mother but I knew deep in my heart even at just 8 or 9 years old that this would negatively affect my future. 

The first time I felt humiliated about my body was when I was in the fifth grade. My best friends at the time were Amberae Miller and Ashlee Pintos. I don’t speak to either of them anymore and that’s probably a good thing. None of us were skinny by any means but I was always the heaviest of the three. They would both often poke and prod at my exterior but we will save those stories for another time.

I was sitting in class one day probably thinking about boys, or drawing, or maybe recess? What the fuck do fifth graders even think about? Knowing my little chubby ass it was probably what I was having for lunch. Anyway, the teacher was going about her lesson on God knows what when there was a knock at the classroom door. It was one of the Gym teachers. She walked up to my teacher, who I for the life of me cannot remember her name, but I do remember her being really nice. She had a personality almost identical to Miss Honey from the movie Matilda, so sugary sweet to the point that you wonder if she’s a bitch on the weekends just to balance it out.  The gym teacher whispered into her ear and she called my name along with three other kids, a girl and a boy. I remember at the time I was extremely confused,  but smart enough to almost immediately pick up on the fact that the only thing the three of us had in common was that we were all fat. The kids in the class oo’d and whispered under their breaths trying to figure out what the three of us could be going to do with the gym teacher.. I’m sure some of them knew. We walked down the empty gray hallway lined with lockers all the way to the gym. When we entered there were a bunch of other kids from other classes sitting on the floor, like the boy and girl from my class the only thing I had in common with these kids was that once again we were all FAT, and maybe also confused. There were probably ten of us in total. Both gym teachers stood in the front of the gymnasium and explained to us that we had been selected to partake in a “special” gym class that we would have to attend once a week at the end of the day while everyone else was enjoying their end of the day bull shit. At first I thought this was kind of cool until I realized what they were going to make us do. We had to run, jump rope, do push ups, sit ups, jumping jacks, pull ups, the whole 9 yards. While all my other classmates sat and gossiped with their friends during last period my ass had to exercise with the other fifth grade fatties. I was humiliated to say the least and I kept wondering to myself if this was allowed. I wondered if my parents were notified and if they had some sort of part in all of this. I remember talking to my mom about it years later and she said she had no idea this was even going on, kinda sick if you think about it. Needless to say this “special” class didn’t help me lose any weight at all, but instead gave me the constant reminder that I was in fact “above average” just like the doctor said.