#(actually they were an anniversary present from chuck)

[moocha-muses]

"Ugh. That is the least convincing arterial gush I've ever seen."

[yaku-soba]

i’ve seen this film before (this is an old story)

༶•┈┈ oikawa tooru x gn!reader | angst

༶•┈┈ general m.list

tags/warnings: angst (with an okay ending), swear words, oikawa doesn’t become a pro, kinda college au, author was listening to the folklore album and also mother mother while writing this, i think that’s warning enough

word count: 1.48k

a/n: this was originally supposed to be some sort of prose poetry for my poetry sideblog but it didn’t work out so </3 also, trying out a somewhat new writing style hehe :3

“someone has to leave first. this is a very old story. there is no other version of this story.”

― richard siken, war of the foxes

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

it goes like this: you fight over something small (it's never just something small), and after a while with whom the fault lies doesn't matter anymore (a double-edged sword: the fighting and the screaming and the shouting and the mocking).

it goes like this: radio silence, no missed calls, no unopened texts. oikawa, a character study: lover becomes roommate becomes a shadow you see slipping out the door if you wake up early enough. take-out ordered for one, a bed too large and cold. blankets that swamp you. 

it ends like this: you cave first (you always cave first). oikawa is too proud to apologize and you are too tired and it is easier to brush all the broken pieces of each other under the rug (it's old, you don't remember where it came from, only that it's the colour of mold and smells like mothballs, despite your best efforts) and pretend the we are fucked up, we are fucking this up away. you hate the way this story ends, there is no other ending to this story.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

"tooru," you say, and the click of the door as he shuts it behind him rings like a gunshot. "do you know what day it is?"

oikawa is breathtaking, as always. "no," he says, casting his eyes to the moldy rug at your feet and then away, off to the side, "what day is it?" oikawa is breathtaking, and as always, he's a bad liar.

you smile, make no effort to pull it to your eyes. "it's pasta day," you answer, and it's as hollow as the ring-pop he gave you as a promise when you were younger (when you had thought you were in love; when you were in love).

he nods. "thanks for cooking dinner." he chucks off his shoes and socks in an act of practiced nonchalance.

there is no pasta day.

"welcome home," you tell him belatedly. he hums, says nothing in return.

(stilted conversation: the second stage of a terminal relationship.)

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

once, you were young and in love.

it's been proven: youth and love makes one foolish.

the story, or the prologue - it goes like this: you meet oikawa at an impressionable age (the boy next door, the golden boy, the boy the coaches eye in a game, the boy all the girls talk about, the boy). he proceeds to make quite an impression on you (a burn from sparklers on a beach at a festival, a failed ollie that left a scar on your knee, bruised wrists from volleyball, the - invisible, but you know it’s there, just as oikawa knows - stitch over the exit wound in your chest). you grow up beside him and along the way, convince yourself that sticking with him is a natural progression (cherry blossoms bloom for only two weeks). 

you and oikawa, him and you. it has always been the two of you. this story is very old, this story always ends the same way.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

you’re fucked up. you and oikawa, him and you - somewhere, along the way, you’d gotten fucked up. you don’t know who fucked it up first, it doesn’t matter anymore. (nothing matters but the brush of oikawa’s lips on your lips and the delicate flutter of his lashes and the rent that you cannot afford without a roommate). 

oikawa is waiting on the couch when you come home (you came home later than usual - you’d seen him talking to a girl who had batted her lashes at him prettily the way he used to do to you). you shut the door behind you like a judge’s hammer, you slip out of your shoes and socks like water through earnest, cupped palms. 

“late night?” he asks (no welcome home). 

“yeah,” you reply (no i’m home). “i wanted to finish more of my project.” 

oikawa hums, looks at you from beneath those damned lashes. “that essay?” he shifts, lifts his feet from the moldy-looking rug to sit cross-legged. 

“yeah,” you say again. (you’d submitted the essay a month ago. you’re working on a presentation due in a week now).

“i ordered pizza,” oikawa says after a pause, “it should be arriving soon.”

you nod, step over the genkan and into the one-bedroom apartment. “thanks,” you tell him, “i’ll be right out.”

the bell rings while you’re changing into loungewear. you step out of the room just in time to see oikawa take the pizza out of the delivery girl’s hands - the same girl you’d seen touch his arm and smile (there is no home).

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

oikawa’s working part-time at a local diner that keeps long hours. you’re working on a degree. 

here’s the thing: he could probably afford a one-bedroom apartment of his own if he’s smart about his money. 

here’s the thing: you can’t. 

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

“someone has to leave first,” wakatoshi tells you over lunch, “richard siken said so.”

“who?” there’s a tear right down the middle of your carrot-heart. 

“someone who left first, or someone who was left. does it really matter?” 

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

here’s the point: oikawa with his long lashes and bedhead. oikawa’s sleepy smile in the mornings (you remember more than you know), the exact dip of his smile, the map you have of the lines of his palms. 

the point is: oikawa staying out and not coming home (you stopped counting after the first month, but your heart still knows), waking up to a cold bed because oikawa started leaving earlier (to go the gym, he says). hesitancy in hands where there once was security, the subtle fall of a satellite out of orbit, the gradual fall out of the childhood familiarity of being young and in love. the point is -

the point is always oikawa. 

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

oikawa gets a new, better, actual job. he’s a volleyball coach at a high school, now. 

you find out almost a month later, through takahiro and issei. 

“oikawa’s confident they’ll make it to nationals this year,” issei says conversationally, sawing into his steak, “says his kids are promising.” 

“what?” (you’ve seen this film before.)

“you know,” takahiro says, “the volleyball kids he’s coaching.” you did not know.

“ah,” you say anyway, fingers slipping around the fork in your hands and grasping onto the far edge of a cliff, “how could i forget.”

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

you finish your degree. you get a (relatively) stable job at a nearby design office.

here’s the thing: they pay you well for a fresh graduate. here’s the thing: you can probably afford a one-bedroom apartment of your own if you’re smart about your money.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

“i’m moving out,” you say the moment oikawa opens the door, “thank you for everything.” (despite everything, you mean it. he’s taught you so many things.)

he smiles (it looks the same as what you imagine you’d smiled like the day of your first anniversary). “okay,” he says, and you think that that’s that.

“i’m sorry,” he says after a moment. 

“yeah,” you say, “i am too.” 

“thank you,” he continues, eyes almost the same shade as the day he’d brought you on a picnic, “i’ll always love you, you know that, right?”

you do (you feel the same, it is not the same love as when you had been fourteen and sixteen and seventeen and eighteen and nineteen, but it is still love). 

“me too,” you say because there is nothing else to say, “you’re important to me. you’ll always be important to me.” it’s true: he was your first kiss and your first love and your first best friend and the first person you’re leaving first. 

oikawa smiles, and disappears into the bathroom. 

you stare at the ugly rug at your feet. 

“is this okay?” you ask the broken pieces of you and him (curled around the jagged edges of each other, thorn to petal, bruise to open wound), “this is an okay ending, right?”

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

here’s the point: oikawa as the boy you loved, oikawa as your youth, oikawa as a part of the past you will always hold close but not be held behind by. 

a study in relationships: someone will always leave first, it is a very old story. 

introspection and a universal truth: youth and love makes one foolish, being foolish is not always a bad thing. 

the point is: someone will always leave first, sometimes people fall out of love, sometimes familiarity is not enough to hold them together. 

an old story, another universal truth: someone will always leave first, it is not always a bad ending. 

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

as always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! :D do drop me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general taglist :”)

p.s if you liked this, it would Be Cool if you leave me an ask / scream in the reblog tags because it would satisfy my need for validation 💔💔

[crimsonrae]

Oh, I am excited then! May I please request a Captain Syverson or Clark Kent/Femme! Reader oneshot where it's the reader's birthday, but she doesn't tell Sy/Clark because she doesn't celebrate/forgets and they find out and do something for her? Maybe a surprise dinner or something? Thank you so much, darling!!

Hey Nonnie,

As requested a birthday fic with Mr. Kent. Fluff fic - I hope you like it.

Clark KentxReader

Falling, Flying

Happy Birthday!

You sighed wearily as you eyed the balloon decorated card from the florist. A beautifully arranged bouquet of sunflowers and chrysanthemums rested on your desk. Admittedly, the amber and wine tones were striking and brought a brightness to your office that was usually lacking, but it was also like having a bright neon sign to remind you of a day that you usually wanted to ignore.

This was the problem with having with life-long friends... they liked to torture you.

You chucked the card into your trash and moved the flowers to the window. You’d text Maria later to call her an asshole and thank her for the little gift.  

“Hey, nice flowers.”

Your butt had barely touched your desk chair. Biting back another sigh, you glanced up to see Lombard loitering in your doorway, “Thanks... Did you have that election article for me?”

“Y/N, it’s all work and no play with you.” Lombard complained loftily as he leaned against the threshold.

You shook your head, ignoring him as you logged into your computer. Your fingers clacked hard at the keyboard when he didn’t disappear nor answer your question. He stood like a creepy grotesque and it only took another minute of stunted silence before you broke.

“Lombard, what do you want?” He grinned victoriously while you threw a mocking scowl at him, “Article?”

He sauntered forward and dropped into the chair before your desk, “So, what are the flowers for? Did Smallville screw up? Apology flowers? Or an anniversary? Don’t let Lois see if it’s the second, cuzzz I don’t think it’s been quite a year since they’ve broken up.”

You rolled your eyes and grumbled under your breath about reporters. Never mind that you used to work as one, editing was more in your comfort zone anyway. You and Clark had only managed to date for two weeks before the office found out.  

Bloodhounds – every single one of them.  

Including your boy.

“You should work for a gossip rag, Steve. You’d really shine there.” You stated dryly, focusing back on the screen as a few new articles showed in your inbox. It was going to be a busy day of fact-checking and proofreading.

“Oh, don’t be mean. I’m just taking a healthy interest in my colleague’s life.” A smugly amused smirk crossed his lips before a pen came flying at his face, “Hey!”

Unapologetic, you pointed at the door “Get out of my office and get your article done.”  

He moved to protest or retort, you weren’t sure, as a new voice interrupted.

“Harassing my girl again, Lombard.”

A feeling of déjà vu fell over you as you and Lombard looked to your door to see Clark leaning in the threshold. You smiled faintly at him becoming amused as Lombard actually shifted to stand. As nice as Clark was, Lombard was well aware that his arms were the size of his head. He felt it better for his ego if he never stood to close to the other reporter...or pissed him off.

And yet...

“Nice choice of flowers, Smallville. So, what did you do?” The smaller man queried jovially.

You threw another pen at him as Clark zeroed in on your present and frowned. He tilted his head curiously and came over to have a better look, allowing Lombard a direct escape if he wanted, “Those aren’t from me.”

You could practically feel a whole new level of intrigue pour from Lombard at Clark’s words. You sent the nosy reported a pointed glare and lifted a pen threateningly. He finally took the hint and left as you spun your chair to face your boyfriend.

You couldn’t stop a cheeky smile as he arched a brow at you, “Yeah...I’ve been meaning to tell you – I've been seeing other guys. You’re gonna need to step up your game, farm boy.”

Clark snorted and slanted a mockingly stern gaze at you through his glasses. You still couldn’t decide if you liked him better with or without the frames, but the meandering thought flew from your head as he nudged your legs apart with his knee and leaned into you. You spared a quick glance towards your open door before meeting him halfway for a kiss.

A soft warmth enveloped you as he nipped your lip and gently coaxed your mouth to open. He stole your breath as he delved deeper and you tasted each other thoroughly. Somehow, you always forgot how good a kisser he was.... it was almost unfair. Especially when he pulled away with that knowing glint in his eye that made you want to smack him and climb him like a tree all at once.  

He smirked, “Somehow, I’m not worried.”

“You don’t play fair.” You grumbled though an affectionate smile pulled at the edges of your lips.

“Says the woman who’s receiving flowers from someone other than her boyfriend.” Clark drawled pointedly as he leaned against your desk.

Unwillingly, you glance at your flowery neon sign. You had no desire to share the real reason for the bouquet. Your birthday had never been a particularly good day for you and the only good ones that you had celebrated had been when you were alone.  

A cup of tea and a good book to read as you let the day pass you by and ignored the fact that you were another year older... that was your perfection.

You sighed and shrugged, “They’re from Maria, so no need to be jealous.”

His brow furrowed. He had only met Maria a few times and was still trying to wrap his head around the friendship you two shared. Insults, practical jokes, and a fair bit of clothes thievery made up the majority of your relationship.

“You guys aren’t in a prank war again, are you?” Clark asked leerily.

He had been the unintended victim of a couple of your pranks the last month and you couldn’t help, but smirk at the memory.  

You shook your head, a lie spilling from your lips before you could stop it, “No. I think I need to check my closet for those new Jimmy Choo's I bought. They’re probably gone now.”

Clark rolled his eyes, “I really don’t understand you two.”

“You don’t need to.” You replied calmly but made the mental note to check your closet anyway. You never knew with Maria.  

“Y/N! Stop canoodling your boyfriend! You’ve got papers on the printer.”

A low groan left your lips as a faint heat filled your cheeks at Lombard’s voice, but you moved to get up anyway. You had no desire to have him hover in your office again.  

Clark moved to follow before a colorful glint caught his eye. A quick check showed him that you were already out of the office as he reached down to pull the florist’s card from the trash. A deep frown marred his features as he took in the festive balloons and quickly scrawled birthday wish.

Why wouldn’t you tell him it was your birthday?

He quickly nabbed Maria’s number from your phone and disappeared from your office.

  ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Your eyes had begun to sting as you stared at your computer screen. A small headache forming at the base of your neck, as you continued to work. You hadn’t been wrong when you assessed that today was going to be busy.

Five more articles had appeared on your desk before lunch and about a dozen phone calls placed and taken before and after that – notes were scribbled into margins and glaring errors corrected. So far, you had only been able to toss back a couple pieces and it was well after six already. Tiredly, you rubbed at the bridge of your nose, more than ready to go home and collapse into bed...but there was still so much you needed to do.

“Hey, you about ready to go?”  

You started at the sound of Clark’s voice, nearly sending your keyboard skittering to the floor, “Christ! I swear you need a damn bell.”

He chuckled lowly, watching as you clutched at your chest and glared mildly at him. He came to stand next to your desk, noting that you hadn’t even begun to shut down for the night while his shoulder bag was already tucked under his arm, ready to call it quits, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Grab your stuff, I’m taking you to dinner.”

A rueful smile quirked at your lips as you wave him off, “Raincheck, babe. I need to get this done or Perry’s gonna have a fit.”

He frowned glancing over the mess of papers on your desk. He hadn’t planned for you to still be working and almost wondered if you had taken on extra articles on purpose, “How much more do you have to do?”

“Don’t know. Maybe another hour – two tops.” You shrugged and smiled softly at him, “You’re free to roam the skies, Captain.

Clark raised an incredulous brow. Not because you had alluded to his alter-ego, you had known for a few months now and had slowly been coming to terms with the fact that your boyfriend was a superhero. It was a road that had not been easily traveled by any means. No, his disbelief came from now being certain that you had taken on extra articles.  

You didn’t often seek solitude, but when you did it was by diving into your work... he had learned that particular quirk relatively quickly and almost painfully. But not tonight – tonight you and he had plans and he wasn’t about to let you break them.

He reached over your shoulder and hit a couple buttons on your keyboard to send your computer into hibernation. You stared in shock at his gall, “Clark!”

He was already grabbing your coat, “Dinner, let’s go.”

Your gaze swiveled from the computer to him, your headache becoming full-blown as your expression creased into annoyance, “I told you, I have work. I’m sorry if that ruins your plans, but we’ll just -”

“You didn’t have lunch.” He cut you off and crossed his arms with a mild glare of his own, “You’ve been mainlining coffee like there’s about to be a tariff placed on it. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that all you ate today was a bagel from Guillermo’s. And I know for a fact that no one has a deadline that needs to be met today or tomorrow. Dinner. Now. Don’t think I won’t drag you out of here.”

You glare at each other in a silent standoff. It wasn’t until he stepped toward you that you gave in with a heavy scowl, “What are you? My mother?”  

“A concerned boyfriend.” He retorted as he held out your coat.

You accepted it grudgingly and grabbed your purse before stepping out of the office. Clark followed behind you, not wanting to give you a chance to close the door on him. You had done it before.  

He watched you from the corner of his cerulean eyes. Your annoyance didn’t last long, but a deep weariness seemed to fall over you as the two of you left the Planet. He slid a warm comforting hand across the small of your back to grip lightly at your hip. Relief flowing through him as you leaned into his side. You weren’t too annoyed with him, then.

You made it down an entire block before you realized you didn’t know where you were heading. Both of your apartments were in the other direction and any decent restaurant required calling for a cab to get to...

You blinked in confusion, “Clark...where?”

He smiled wondering when you would ask. Glancing around discreetly, he pulled you into an alley and firmly against his body. Your brow rose, a questioned poised on the tip of your tongue that turned into a startled scream as you suddenly found yourself in the air.

Your arms wrapped around his neck like a lock as you buried your face into his shoulder. Muffled curses and small whimpers spilled from your throat as the two of you flew. Even when he slowed, now safely away from prying eyes and telescopes, you refused to look up.  

“You can relax. I won’t drop you.” He murmured into your ear, feeling mildly guilty for scaring you. He could feel you trembling and knew it wasn’t from the cold air.

A muffled curse was his only response as you gripped tighter. You did not like this.

Luckily, you were soon on the ground again, though it took you a few minutes to remember how to unlock your frozen limbs. Your heart pounded in your chest as you swallowed against a noxious turn of your stomach. You couldn’t stop shaking...

Clark rubbed soothingly at your arms as you tried to find some semblance of control over your body. Your eyes slowly opened into a dark glare, your hand already moving to smack him in the chest. It was infuriating to know that it wouldn’t hurt him, “Don’t ever do that again, you jackass.”  

His eyes widen in a way that reminded you of a scolded puppy, but you refused to bend and stumbled back a step. You turned intending to see where exactly he had dropped you and figure out how to get home but froze at the sight you found.

Twinkle lights shimmered in the burgeoning night sky as they danced about the branches of an old willow tree. A small wooden table set for two was guarded by the fluttering leaves while being showcased by the light. It was startlingly quaint and romantic all in one.

Martha smiled as she placed a covered dish in the center of the table and waved at the two of you. You were on the farm...  

“Happy Birthday,” Clark murmured behind you.

Your mouth moved silently before you turned confused eyes on him, “...How?”

“I saw the card in your trash can. Called Maria... then I called mom.” Clark explained casually as if he were talking about the weather.

Stunned all you could do was blink, even as Martha came up to greet the two of you.  

She wrapped you in a quick hug, “Happy Birthday, dear.”

Then turned to place a kiss to her son’s cheek before shooing you towards the table, “Go, eat before it gets cold. I need to finish your cake.”

Cake. The word jolted you back to reality, “Oh Martha - you didn’t need to go through all this trouble.”

“Nonsense.” She called back, already halfway back to the house.  

Distracted, Clark slipped his hand into yours and gently tugged you towards the table. Smells of garlic and tomato and cheese wafted toward you and your mouth began to water. Sheer wonder filled you as Clark pulled your chair out for you and then moved to uncover the dish Martha had left. Steam rose into the air as he revealed a freshly baked lasagna. Salad and garlic bread next to it.

Your throat constricted as you took in the care that had gone into this... A home cook meal shouldn’t bring you to tears, but you felt the sting at the corners of your eyes.  

“Y/N?” Clark called quietly. Worried that he may have overstepped his bounds with this surprise.

Your heart felt too big for your chest as you met his gaze. It was with tremulous movements that you left your seat to place a grateful kiss to his lips, “Thank you...I didn’t...You didn’t need...”

You couldn’t find the words to express just how overwhelmed you were feeling as you fell back to your seat, but not letting go of his hand.

Clark watched you with a soft smile, “I think it's my right to spoil my girlfriend on her birthday, though it would help if I had known sooner.”  

A stray tear spilled down your cheek as you shook your head, knowing that you would have to explain your distaste for this day...but you also didn’t want to dwell on those thoughts, “I didn’t expect you to...Clark -”

He squeezed your hand as if he already knew, “Tell me later, I have more spoiling to do.”

You huffed a laugh and shyly smiled, “You know Clark Kent, you really know how to make a girl fall.”

He grinned widely, “And to think you hate flying.”

“You’re still not fully forgiven for that... but I think I’ll get over it.” You murmured, joy burning your veins as his expression turned relieved.

He pressed a kiss to your joined hands.

It was the first birthday you could say that you truly enjoyed. Over a plate of hot lasagna in the late summer night as crickets chirped and frogs sang and with a man... a man who looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. That was the only present you ever needed.

  ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

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[awhitehead17]

100 ways to say I love you - TimKon edition:

Number 54: “I made reservations.” 

Enjoy! :D 

Five steps forwards. Turn. Five steps back. Turn.

Kon repeats the cycle countless of times as he paces the length of the kitchen in the Kent farmhouse. His mind is in overdrive as his thoughts become more frantic by the second. Powered by overthinking and worry, Kon is getting more worked up as time ticks by. He needs to make a decision but he doesn’t know what to do.

Unfortunately the person he called for help has been anything but, Kara stands to the side watching Kon pace up and down with a look of amusement on her face. If he wasn’t so caught up in his issue he would be annoyed at her.

After a few more minutes of pacing Kara sighs and straightens up from her slouched position and plays with her hair over one shoulder. “Do you and Tim have any plans already?”

Kon abruptly stops and stares at her in disbelief. “No! We don’t! Do you think I would be so worked up over this if something had already been organised? I have no clue on what to do or what to even get him!”

“You’re overthinking this.” She tells him sounding exasperated.

Kon wants to snap at her but decides against it. He knows he’s overthinking it but she doesn’t need to point it out. That isn’t helpful in the slightest. Running a hand through his hair, Kon takes a deep breath in before letting out and casts his cousin a side glance.

“Do you think it really matters? I mean, after all it’s not exactly a milestone. We’ve both been busy and it hasn’t come up until now.”

After rolling her eyes Kara sends him an unimpressed look. “Of course it matters Kon! It’s your anniversary, it’s a special occasion no matter what number is attached to the date.” She pauses looking thoughtful for moment before continuing on, this time her voice in a much softer tone. “If you can’t think of anything to get him, why don’t you take him out to dinner? Just spend time with him.”

Kon thinks it over for a moment before making a face at the idea. “Isn't that a little cliché?”

Kara shrugs, not bothered by his repulsed reaction to her suggestion. “Perhaps, but it’s the thought that counts.”

He thinks over the idea again, this time not dismissing it straight away. Could he take Tim out to dinner? He knows they both have the day off (partial to absolute emergencies) so it’s a possibility. But where could they go, would Tim even like the potential place Kon would pick for them, what if he picks wrong? This idea has done anything but help him, it’s simply added to his anxiety and making him overthink everything even more.

As soon as Kon unconsciously starts pacing again, Kara throws her hands up and leaves the room, clearly done with his restless behaviour. As she leaves she shouts over her shoulder, “just decide on something Kon! You’re being ridiculous.”

Kon stops his pacing to scowl at the now empty space where his cousin had been. “You’ve been no help!”

“Whatever.”

Kon goes back to his pacing wearing a scowl. His mind is still reeling with ideas on what present he could get Tim for their anniversary or even what they could do for it.

He doesn’t know how much time passes as he stays in the kitchen but he breaks away from his thoughts when he gets called to do chores.

The topic of their anniversary doesn’t actually come up until the day of their anniversary. The build up to the day has been nothing but hectic therefore not really giving him, or Tim, any time to actually sit down and talk about it together.

On the day of their anniversary they wake up together in the early afternoon, that’s after getting back during early hours from a rather draining mission and doing nothing but sleep until then. Upon waking up they trade lazily kisses and quiet mumbles of greetings. It isn’t until late afternoon they actually get up to face the day, having spent nearly all of it in bed cuddled together (Kon certainly isn’t complaining about that).

It’s when Tim is in the shower that Kon remembers what he had planned, only remembering such plans after turning on his phone and checking his emails to find a reminder email about a reservation he made in a nearby Italian restaurant. He slaps a hand to his forehead in disbelief, he can’t believe he forgot about the dinner plans! Thank god he looked at his phone and thank heavens for reminders.

After the initial shock has faded, a wave of worry hits him. Will Tim like the idea, will he want to go to this restaurant?

Tim soon emerges from the shower, he's dressed in some grey sweats, a green jumper, a towel is around his shoulders with his hair still damp. Somehow, as soon as he stepped foot in the bedroom, he knew something was up. Kon doesn’t know how Tim does it. What could have given him away?  He's sat at the foot of the bed, bare feet planted on the ground with his elbows on his knees and his phone in his hand.

Tim narrows his eyes at him. “What’s wrong?”

Kon looks up in surprise. “I – uh, what? Nothing’s wrong!”

“Kon, something is up, what is it?” Tim questions. He drops the towel down onto the ground and steps towards Kon, nudging his way between his legs and cupping his face with his warm hands. “Is it something bad? You can tell me you know.”

Kon chucks his phone behind him and reaches up to capture Tim’s hands in his own, he turns his head side to side to press a kiss to each palm. “It’s nothing bad, I promise…” he hesitates before continuing, worried about Tim’s reaction, “I – uh – I do have something to tell you though.”

Tim squeezes his hands reassuringly.

Swallowing thickly Kon continues, “As it’s our anniversary I wanted to get you something but I didn’t know what to get you. I know we hadn’t spoken about anything but I went ahead and… I made reservations, for us, for tonight, as part of our anniversary and as a gift to you.”

He snaps his eyes close so he doesn’t have to look at Tim’s reaction. That’s why when Tim suddenly plants his lips on Kon’s he jumps a little, unexpecting the action. He quickly melts into the kiss though, even letting out a low moan when Tim climbs on top of him to straddle his legs.

When they pull apart they’re breathless and looking widely at one another. Kon blinks wondering what that kiss really meant to his plans, just as he's about to ask Tim beats him to it.

“That’s a wonderful idea Kon. To be honest I haven’t even given today any thought. I feel bad now, I haven’t actually gotten you anything or even thought about the day other than just spending it with you.”

Kon shrugs shyly, feeling a blush rush across his cheeks. “It’s not a big deal. I actually forgot all about it until just moments ago.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Was that the thing bothering you? Were you worried about telling me your plans?”

“Yeah,” Kon admits nodding, “I don’t know why I just got so worked up over wanting to do something for you and whether you would like the idea or not. I can’t believe you knew something was up instantly though.”

Tim sends him a sly grin. “I have my ways,” his grin quickly softens, “When and where have you booked for us? It’s been a while since we’ve been out, it’ll be nice and make a change.”

“That Italian place nearby, we’ve been meaning to try it for some time so I figured why not. I’ve booked us a table for six thirty.”

“Why not indeed. Six thirty sounds good, we can have something small now and save room for the main meal later on since it’s only in a couple hours.”  

Kon hums and leans up to kiss Tim again, to which Tim instantly responds to, and they trade lazy kisses for a few long moments. When they pull away once again Kon blinks up at him. “In the meantime I need to shower and decide what to wear. I think it’s a fancy place but you don’t have to go over the top kind of thing.”

Tim hums and slides off his lap, Kon misses his warmth immediately, and goes over to the towel he had dropped earlier. Picking it up he sends Kon a smile. “While you do that I’m going to go put some washing on and then whip us up something light to eat.”

Kon nods and watches Tim leave the room. He stays on the bed for a few seconds suddenly feeling giddy with happiness and excitement. He can’t believe Tim likes the idea and he's so relieved he does. Perhaps Kara had actually been onto something when she suggested to go out for dinner together (not that he would ever tell her that). A smile breaks out on his own face and he finally gets up to freshen up, after all Tim is waiting for him and he’s currently wasting precious time.

[pollylynn]

Hendecagon—A Caskett One-Shot Set post–"After the Storm" (5 x 01)

Title: Hendecagon WC: 1200 A/N: Set in the summer just after “After the Storm” (5 x 01)

The sun is not quite up. It is an unseasonably cool fifty-six degrees. She is swearing at tomatoes.

“You’re not tomatoes,” she grumbles. She plumps herself down next to the fabric container and immediately regrets it. The whole of the rooftop is damp with the dithering mist that has wrapped itself around the city for the last five days. And now her pajama bottoms are damp with dithering mist. “You’re a failure.”

The last comment might be directed to the tomatoes. It might directed at herself. It’s probably directed at both, and it’s definitely ridiculous. The tomatoes will be tomatoes in their own good time—provided the dithering mist packs up and leaves town and late July remembers what late July is supposed to look like—and tomato failure to launch hardly makes her a failure. She has just failed at this particular thing.

Which she really had wanted not to fail at.

That’s ridiculous, too. It’s a just a silly thing she’d wanted to do, and no one but her even knows about it. It’s a failure that could simply disappear into the damned mist if she simply slunk back down to the loft and found a suitable hiding place for the tell-tale pajama pants. Instead, the bare soles of her feet and her entire backside are quickly going numb with cold. The rest of her skin is goose-pimpled and tinged with blue, and she can feel her hair taking on moisture, taking on a Medusa-rivaling life of its own.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” she tells the hard, treacherously green little fruits. “Tomatoes, because . . . tomatoes.” She wiggles the body part in question for emphasis. She tries to wiggle them, but the window for toe mobility seems to have closed some time ago. “Eleven. You need toes for eleven.”

She clonks her head down on her drawn-up knees. Saying it out loud—saying it to failure tomatoes—sounds . . . well, stupid doesn’t begin to cover it. But she wanted to do for him what he has done for her so often over these last nine, ten, eleven weeks.

He has invented celebrations without number. If she wanted to tick off each and everyone, not only would she need his and her collective fingers and toes, she’d have to recruit passers-by on the street and borrow theirs. He invents anniversaries and fabricates holidays. He commemorates everything with silly, touching little mementoes and comically reverent ceremonies.

The very tiny rooftop garden she finds herself sitting in the center of is just one example of truly far too many to count. The end of week one he had materialized from the bedroom in denim overalls—actual overalls—and solemnly presented her with a trowel tied up in a fat green bow. He’d taken her hand and dragged her up to the roof, which was no small task given how weak with laughter she’d been. He’d covered her eyes with his hands at the very last second, then pulled them away.

Ta da.

He’d meant it as a flourish, but the gesture had a decided hint of shyness in it. Damp and disheartened as she is by the dithering mist and everything, her stomach still does a little butterfly flip thinking about how thrilling, yet tentative everything was in the early days before they needed toes to count their weeks together. It does a little butterfly flip thinking how wonderfully mundane so many things are between them now.

It’s the call of the wild, he’d explained, building steam as his grin fed off her own. We’ll hear their cries. We’ll have no choice but to tend them. It’s sad but true, Beckett, but we’ll have to leave the bedroom at some point . . .

She’d nearly had to stab him with the trowel for that, for the way an over-the-top, lascivious waggle of his eyebrows could make her blush. But he’d side-stepped the jab. He’d wrapped one arm tight around her and led her proudly from one tiny seedling to the next, each of one of them drowning in what seemed to be a sea of potting soil.

He’d talked about them all like children. He’d given each little green sprout a name, and she swears she changes them every time. She’d swear that the stubborn members of the nightshade family she’s seriously considering chucking right off the roof did not start out as Chaz, but Chaz is who they are this week—week 11, when she’d wanted to one simple, silly thing.

She’d wanted, just this once, to glide into the bedroom with the breakfast-in-bed tray bearing the perfect tomato-and-feta omelet. She’d wanted, just this once, to make him puzzle out what they were celebrating—why that celebration had to involve these, the tomatoes they’ve watered and whispered to and sat watching on warm summer evenings as though something might befall their green offspring army the second their backs were turned. But Chaz is a traitor.

“You’re all traitors,” she grumbles once more, kicking out with numb toes that definitely get the worse end of the deal when they connect with the heavy, soil-filled bag.

The move shifts her point of view. Or maybe it just shifts the thick, leafy arms of Chaz enough that she she’s able to see the flash of red beyond.

She’s on her knees with cat-like quickness. She faintly registers the unpleasant sensation of wet knees, of palms that are immediately freezing, but it’s all secondary. She’s weaving her way in between cucumber vines climbing upward and the alarming profusion of mint they’re really going to have to do something about. It’s Gavin—the lipstick pepper she’s pretty sure he originally named Lanie—and shyly peeping from between the long, slender leaves, is a mystical object: a single pepper, long, emerald, and healthy, save for a smile of blazing red.

She holds her breath as she eases her fingers beneath it. The stem yields immediately under her touch and the lovely weight of the fruit drops into her palm.

“Hello, gorgeous,” she breathes. She’s suspended there a moment, with the dithering mist clinging to her hair. Every inch of her is cold and wet, but she feels the warmth of seventy-seven suns in this Son or Daughter or Whatever of Gavin, this perfect, oddly shaped thing that the two of them have brought into the world. She forgets the mist and everything for a moment.

But the next moment, her stomach does a butterfly flip. It has her popping to her feet and racing for the propped open door.

She doesn’t know what an unexpected July sweet pepper has to do with eleven weeks or with anything else. But she’ll figure it out. She’ll make it up—some outlandish connection that he’ll scoff at, because every one of his outlandish connections is a million times better.

He’ll scoff, but his smile will go soft. He’ll sink back into the pillows and stretch with the satisfaction of it—of knowing that every second, they have something to celebrate. That’s how it always goes for her. That’s how it’ll go for him.

That’s how.

A/N: So I walked outside today, in celebration of the fact that the temperature was livable. Walk means no dreadmill or gym, and so no episode. But self, I thought, we should write a little drabble-y thing—NBD, just two hundred words. Maybe two-fifty. Because we don’t want to be up until 5 AM like the last week or so. Um. Yeah. So that all worked out.

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut - college!au

wordcount ~ 8.5k

warnings ~ 18+ only! smut, explicit discussion of kinks/sexual preferences (yay healthy communication), dom/sub undertones during both discussion and sex (dom Jungkook, sub reader), mentions of daddy kink and degradation but both are a no, marking, biting, hair pulling, spanking, they both have a srs pain kink lmao, brief oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie

a/n ~ SO excited to finally have this chapter out for yall! it’s a huge one and i’ve been working on it for quite a while, this includes the first full smut scene for this fic and i would love to know how yall like it or any other feedback. i really enjoyed writing the character development in this chapter too! they’re so cute and whipped for each other already hhhhhh. thank you so much for loving this story so far, i’m really looking forward to writing the rest. hope you enjoy! ❣️

previous: chapter 1 | chapter 2 ~ next: chapter 4 (coming soon!) 

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 3 ~ particular, perfect

You concluded your walk home by ditching your shoes at the door, swinging your bag off your shoulders to the floor, and plopping down onto the couch immediately. Pulling all three nearby blankets over yourself, you realized you still weren't quite comfortable. You looked around for a second, puzzled, until an absentminded clutch of your boobs reminded you why. Triumphantly, you reached into a sleeve to untangle your bra and chucked it across the room with a deep stretch of relief. Okay, time to overthink again.

Jungkook? What the fuck?

Wait. A bag of chips on the kitchen counter caught your eye before you could descend any further into panic. The perfect emotional crutch. You clutched it to your chest like a safeguard against your own internal monologue, anxiously shoving handful after handful into your mouth. After about thirty minutes spent motionless on the couch with one hand shoved in the chip bag and the other distractedly scrolling through Twitter, your eyes suddenly widened and your hand froze, dropping your next bite of chips back into the bag. Fuck. You had just eaten nearly an entire family-size bag of chips before what could end up being your first fuck in over a year. Well, maybe this was part of why you hadn't gotten fucked in over a year. No, don't go there. You shoved down your own insecurity, knowing you'd just been too busy for a relationship and honestly, probably still were. But that wasn't going to stop you today.

You shook the chip dust off of your hands and got up to head to the shower, turning up your trashiest throwback playlist of getting-ready bops and resolving to at least shave your legs. Going in with no expectations was probably the best strategy here, but it never hurt to be prepared.

~

Having cleaned his apartment in record time, Jungkook was now at the gym. After triple-checking that his roommate Jin would be in rehearsal until 10pm at the earliest, he quickly scanned all the common spaces and his bedroom and realized he didn't actually have that much work to do besides politely closing the door to Jin's still-decent-but-somewhat-messier room. To be honest, Jungkook had mainly bought himself the time after class so he could shave just in case. But then he figured if he had to shower, he might as well hit the gym first. So here he was, burning off an unprecedented amount of nervous energy. Settling comfortably into the leg curl machine, he turned his music up and started on a low weight to put in reps until his thighs burned and his head felt pleasantly empty.

After completing his normal leg day rotation and dutifully stretching, Jungkook prepared to head home. He walked out of the gym feeling more energized and centered, barely even flinching when he switched his AirPods off to say bye to the nice girl at the front desk and the action accidentally blasted "Whistle" by Flo Rida from his phone speaker for the whole lobby to hear. As he walked back into his apartment, the kitchen clock let him know it was only 4:30. He had plenty of time. Jungkook hopped straight into the shower, shampooing his hair, shaving everywhere he normally did, and savoring several extra moments to relax his muscles under the hot stream of water. Finally, he toweled off to wrap up in the black t-shirt and cozy matching sweatpants he'd carefully stacked on the counter. Offhandedly singing to himself in the steamy mirror, he checked the time on his phone, deciding he might as well go ahead and text you before he got nervous again and did something stupid. Like chickening out completely.

hey its jk! im ready when u are :) my apt is 344 glencoe rd #1521 (yes its on the 15th floor sry D: )

His charming old-school smileys lit up your phone while you still had a leg perched on the bathtub's edge.

"Fuck!" you reacted. The hiss resounded, thanks to the too-good acoustics of your cramped bathroom. Your razor clattering to the floor, you paused your max-volume 2000s music to check the message, and then the time. Only 5! That wasn't dinnertime yet. Plugging his address into Google Maps, though, you realized it was a 15- to 20-minute drive from yours on the opposite end of campus. Even if you got ready at light-speed, you would get there closer to 5:30. Which was a bit more reasonable. He was being reasonable! You should be ready by now!

You leaned over to pick up your razor and cursed again as the water stream grazed the blouse you'd left on out of laziness. You'd showered this morning, so there was no need to repeat that with your shave, but now you'd have to change outfits completely. Feeling like an idiot, naked from the waist down but now all the way wet, you peeled the shirt over your head slowly to preserve your good hair day and glanced down at the dilemma you'd been facing. The patch of hair between your legs stared back at you like the final boss of stupid societal beauty standards. You'd only shaved down there once, as an anniversary present for your first boyfriend the summer before college, and it had been a fun, smooth novelty for about two hours and then itchy, red, gross-looking, and miserable for about three weeks. Also, it had kind of made you feel like a little girl, which creeped you out when you thought about why guys would prefer it. You'd been debating whether to try it again for the past fifteen minutes, because if there was ever a right time, this was probably it. But now you didn't have time, if you were going to be respectful and not keep Jungkook waiting. Well, this was the real you. He could take it or leave it.

Slathering a quick coat of lotion over your freshly shaved legs, you prepared to get dressed in a soft pastel sweatshirt and a flattering pair of workout shorts. Wait, should you wear lingerie? Was that too try-hard? You didn't really even need to wear underwear with these lined shorts, which could be a cool-girl move, you supposed. You settled on a cute white sports bra to go with the shorts, not wanting to deal with a real bra and hoping it still appealed to Jungkook's casual, athletic style. You checked yourself in the mirror briefly before grabbing your bag, confirming you looked chill enough but still felt like your best color-coordinated self. Heading out, you shoved a tin of chrysanthemum green tea in your water bottle pocket. Why not?

~

You whizzed over to Jungkook's apartment, yelling along to "Sex With Me" by Rihanna from your throwback playlist to hype you up in the car. When you knocked on his door after a nerve-wrackingly long elevator ride, Jungkook welcomed you with a "C'mon in!" amidst a mouthful of shrimp chips.

"It's not really dinnertime yet," (yeah, no kidding, you thought) "I went ahead and worked out but it's still kind of early, so I figured we could just have a snack and do the homework first."

"Sounds good," you affirmed. "I'm not really that hungry," (read: there's no way I can eat chips AGAIN right now, I'm going to bloat so badly) "but I brought tea so I can go ahead and make that if you want some too!"

"Oh cool, thanks!" Jungkook accepted. "Are you sure you're not hungry though?"

You almost gave into his sweet pout, but managed to convince him, and soon you both sat at the table with laptops open and twin cups of tea. You had a blast working together for the first time, acting out your "conversation" for the discussion board and pretending to respond spontaneously to each other's points like you hadn't already excitedly rambled back and forth through them in real life. You hit "send" five minutes apart, your idea to not seem too suspicious, and kept raving over Rear Window in between. As the sun lowered outside his living room window, you moved on to making the ramen.

After three offers to help Jungkook, all of which he denied, you simply made another steep of the tea, leaving a mug on the counter for him. Standing at the bar counter sipping yours, you enjoyed all the tiny, cute noises he made while chopping green onions and sprinkling extra garlic in the seasoning, like an anime character who came with his own sound effects. You could tell he made these recipe additions every time, because bulk quantities of the same simple ingredients lined the counters of his cozy kitchen. When he beat two eggs and dropped them into the pot, though, he couldn't seem to find a lid, and eventually settled on trapping the steam with a plate. You both waited on the egg for a silent moment, your foot bouncing under the bar while Jungkook restlessly acquired a slight wiggle. As he took a sip of his tea, a strand of hair fell over his eyes, and he yeeted it out of his face. Your inner language nerd cringed, but there really was no more apt word to describe the action.

You offhandedly said you liked his hair long, and he replied with a smile, "Maybe I'll have to keep it then."

"Do you like it too?" you wondered.

"Honestly no, it's kind of inconvenient."

"Oh, then why would you keep it?" you immediately asked back.

"Well..." he dragged out. "You like it? Maybe I should keep it if it looks better this way."

Your eyes crinkled appreciatively at his thoughtfulness, but then you backtracked. "Wait, no, it's okay! If you don't like it, don't feel like you have to keep it just because of something I said. You can do whatever you want."

"Hm, yeah." A demure smile tugged up the corner of his mouth as he lifted the plate from the ramen pot.

You watched him drag a chopstick through the floating, now-cooked egg to tear it into ribbons, then divide the noodles between two generously-sized bowls. He carefully wiped down the drips of broth from each bowl before sprinkling in his fresh toppings, then walked with you to the table.

Serving you with a pleased smile and a slight nod, he announced, "Dinner!"

"Wow," you mused playfully. "So gourmet."

"I'm really particular about my ramen," he admitted. "I have it down to a perfect routine at this point."

You took your first slurp of his particular, perfect ramen. "Well, it's really good. I'm impressed. And thanks for making me dinner, you didn't have to do all that."

"Oh, come on, it's instant ramen," he laughed. "Nothing special. And you brought the tea, so thanks. And thanks for coming over. And doing the homework with me. And...yeah." Rambling again. Why did he seem so...nervous? You were nervous. He couldn't be nervous. What reason did he have to be? But the twitch of his mouth under his wide eyes, his slightly reddened ears, his hand skittering over his neck—fuck—to ruffle his hair...every action turned another page of his open book. It felt infuriatingly unfair that genetics had assigned someone so sweet and shy and unsure of himself to that fucking body.

While you both ate and talked, you kept catching glimpses of any small flashes of skin you could find, as his long sleeves fell to expose his forearms and the wide neckline of his boxy black shirt gaped around his collarbones. What was wrong with you? Even if this did eventually turn into a dick appointment, the boy still had literally all of his clothes on. You tried to refocus on finishing your noodles, while your brain screamed at itself in shame that you could get this turned on by the sight of someone covered from neck to ankle.

Jungkook ate surprisingly slowly, probably because he kept pausing to excitedly explain his favorite things about the Cowboy Bebop episode you were about to watch together. You smiled into your tea through every out-of-context fun fact and "wait, sorry, that might have been a spoiler!"

Finally, he reached the bottom of his bowl and insisted on both taking your dishes to the sink and leaving them for him to clean later. "You sure you want to start on episode 2? Not 1?"

"Yeah, I remember well enough and your summary helped a lot too!"

"Okay, if you're positive!" he double-checked, grabbing the remote.

Gingerly lowering yourselves to the couch in sync, you avoided looking at each other as you both tried to calculate a comfortable distance between you. His hand looked ready to either hold yours or lower to your thigh, but he retracted at the last second, smoothing it over his own leg anxiously and still clearly itching to make a move. You shuffled closer to him until your thighs barely touched, and he shifted to slink an arm around you, letting your head rest on his well-muscled shoulder. After pressing “play”, he began wiggling slightly again, subconsciously grooving to the old-newspaper-style intro. Spike Spiegel appeared on the screen, his broad shoulders squared into a slouch as he listlessly watched TV. Jungkook kicked one leg over another and stretched his arms out symmetrically to echo the pose. Raising an eyebrow, he waited until you acknowledged him with a faux grimace and a hand to your ear, imitating the old man in a lab who’d just called up Spike for a new mission. You both burst into laughter and settled back into your former arrangement, Jungkook holding you imperceptibly tighter. Though you tried to stay staring straight ahead, wanting to genuinely appreciate the anime, you kept catching his doe eyes in the corner of your sight as you both giggled and gasped your way through the episode.

After avoiding eye contact too many times, you finally tilted your head for a cute sideways view of his face. He leaned toward you too, shyly closing the gap to touch his warm lips to your nose, then lower. You responded immediately, rolling your body with his so your chests met as he pulled you up into a full, deeper kiss. The longer you explored each other's mouths, the more Jungkook punctuated your movements with whimpers. He seemed hesitant to let his hands roam away from your face and neck, but his high, breathy moans made it clear that he was just as into this as you. Your hands had naturally found his taut waist, and at some point you started to bring them back up to his face too—but as your short nails grazed his chest, a particularly sensual, voice-cracking moan interrupted you. You drew back in slight surprise, blinking your eyes open to scan from his face to his body.

He followed your gaze, both slowly settling on the massive tent in his pants. You froze. Your breath grew heavier, confronted with evidence of his physical attraction to you, if nothing else. After regaining his composure, he laid a useless hand over his lap in a delicate attempt to distract you and brought his other hand up to tap your face lightly.

"Is this okay?"

His eyes glittered with equal parts hunger and concern.

"Yes!" you nodded, too quickly, too eagerly. "Yes, this is totally okay. Sorry if I'm being weird, I just...it's been a while." You cringed internally at your own words, but couldn't seem to avoid putting your foot further in your mouth. "I haven't really, like, hooked up like this before—like, I've had sex, but never really outside of a relationship. But don't worry, I get this is more your thing, and I'm totally down if you are. I just don't really know what I'm doing, and you clearly do."

Jungkook blinked at your admission, then his face twisted into something curious, inscrutable. Would he decide you weren't worth the potential for drama? His lips flattened out to a tight line, then pursed to speak, and you looked down at your lap, hoping he wasn't as embarrassed of you as you now were of yourself.

"Well, I've never had sex sober."

Your eyes flashed back up to his. A complex half-smirk offset the furrow in his brow as he exhaled in nervous relief. "So, I don't actually know what I'm doing here either."

You tried to delay your response as you processed the implications. "You mean..." You tilted your head for better eye contact, hoping to convey empathy but not pity while you silently contemplated how to proceed. "Never?"

"Yeah, I've always shown up to parties and the hookups just...happened. Nothing I didn't want, nothing bad like that, but always spontaneous. So I guess we're kind of meeting in the middle, because I've never really had to plan ahead for a situation like this and, uh, figure out what I want. Beyond, yknow, wanting to get laid in the moment, of course." Jungkook laughed off the end of his explanation, but the smile never quite hit his eyes.

"Well, okay, let's pause right there." You sighed. Something in his words didn't sit right with you. "What do you want? I want you to be sure about this, of course, but more than that, even—what do you like?"

"I..." he chuckled, sheepish, shaking his hair over his face again. "What, you want me to just tell you? Like, what I'm into?"

"Yeah," you shrugged, trying to project more confidence than you felt in hopes of encouraging him to keep opening up. "I want you to be able to communicate, I want you to be comfortable. And I want to know what you like, so I can make it as good for you as possible."

With your hands still laid flat on his chest, you felt his heart rate jump a tiny bit, and took the liberty of digging your nails in just slightly deeper. His breath caught him, and then he caught himself. "I don't know, I just want what you want."

Jungkook struggled to appear nonchalant as you rolled your eyes with an "Oh, come on," challenging his avoidance. Every instinct was telling him yes. He could hear his mind screaming at him to be intentional for once and let you take him, if not farther, then deeper than ever before. But he still hesitated, because being intentional in this case required him to be real. He had always been a fairly private person, but something about you made him feel so comfortable so fast that it counterintuitively made him more nervous. Of course Jungkook knew you weren't all innocent at this point, but the risk remained that you wouldn't really be down for everything he secretly wanted to explore. Even worse, though he didn't truly think you would, you could easily turn around and spin anything he revealed into yet another graphic rumor. Especially since you had no skin in the game yourself. He glanced down at your fingers, tensed into his chest, and narrowed his eyes.

"Why don't you tell me what you like first? And then I can tell you where we overlap," he grinned competitively. Your eyes widened as he tossed the challenge back your way. Not backing down, you flattened your hands and steeled yourself to settle the stakes.

"Fine—but only if you promise not to just go along with whatever I say. I'll let you know anything that's a hard no for me, but otherwise I want to hear at least one thing that's not on my list. I really do want what you want, that's how I am too, okay? So..." you paused to slide your fingertips over his collar and drag it down with a light scratch, now directly on his skin. You smiled with your eyes, enjoying the way he naturally responded with a hitch of his breath again. "Surely you can think of something specific."

He nodded quickly, before he could convince himself to back out. "Yeah. Promise."

"Okay," you confirmed, slightly nervous but determined to go through with this, for Jungkook's sake if anything. Seeing his body come alive with each new twist of the situation was building your curiosity, not to mention turning you on beyond belief. You could barely stand the warmth of his skin under your hands, so you drew them back to fold in your lap as you began. "So. Uh. To start. I've never really laid it all out like this either. I really like neck kisses? Like, a lot." Equally unused to this kind of directness, you wrung your hands together nervously, but sucked up the boldness to keep elaborating. "That's definitely, like, a big thing that turns me on...and then getting marked up and everything is really hot to me too. Like you can honestly go really rough with me on that, bite me even. I don't know if this is weird but even though it's annoying to cover up, I love taking off the makeup at the end of the day and seeing all the bruises on myself. Knowing I was walking around all day with that as my little secret." You swallowed shyly before continuing, but Jungkook interrupted the brief silence immediately with a hushed "Fuck."

You turned to face him fully and he didn't even move to meet your stare, eyeing the space above your sweatshirt's wide neckline like he was ready to devour you. Emboldened, your smile grew.

"So...yeah. I like being bitten, marked up. Mostly, uh," you rubbed a slightly trembling hand over your shoulder, "I'm just really into pain in general. Obviously not the bad 'I'm too dry and you're jackhammering me' kind of pain, or like, anal. Anal is a hard no. But things like biting, or hair pulling, or overstimulation. Or, like—I don't really know how to explain this, but...getting held too hard? That deep pain like when you get a massage when you're sore and it hurts but it's good, yknow?"

Jungkook looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, breathing shallow and rapid. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, just in time for you to whisper in conclusion:

"I love that feeling."

You suddenly looked away, reticent. A thick silence swelled between you, until he composed himself enough to punctuate it. "Okay. Yeah. Pain. So like, BDSM?"

"I mean, kind of? Sure? I don't have much experience with that and I don't really need the whole power dynamic aspect; I just like the, uh, physical pain. I wouldn't be opposed to trying further, but one thing I do know is I really don't like being degraded. And I'm not into the whole daddy kink thing either. I'm just not gonna call you that, sorry," you laughed, and fortunately he giggled too. "But I know that's not, like, necessary to the rest of BDSM, and the part about giving up control is still...interesting, for sure."

"Wait," Jungkook cocked his head, making a mental note of your last sentence before he went back to the previous one. "What do you mean, being degraded?"

You half-chuckled, half-cringed, never having needed to explain something like this, especially to a guy you hopefully were about to fuck. Cheers to better communication, you supposed.

"You know, how some people when they do dirty talk are like 'yeah, you little slut, you're such a whore.' I don't like being called any of that. Like it's fine that other people like it, there's nothing wrong with that, it's just really uncomfortable for me."

His brows knit together as you explained, and he shook his head so fast it almost looked cartoonish, like a little kid refusing vegetables. "Yeah, no. Don't worry, not really my thing either."

You sighed in relief. "That's nice. I feel like it's, like, weirdly common with guys. Maybe just the kind of thing people learn from porn."

"But you still like it rough, huh? Did you learn that...from porn?" he half-joked, trying to overcome both his shyness and his gritted-teeth arousal.

"No, I don’t like porn. Most of it’s really unethical. I learned from experience," you sassed back. "I don't have a whole lot, but enough to know what I like."

"Well. Hm." He worked his tongue over his teeth, poking one cheek out over his tensed jaw. You couldn't get enough of watching him grow fascinated by your every revelation, and you were preparing to keep pressing further when he beat you to it, posing a question. "Is there anything you haven't tried before, but really want to?"

Your face heated up instantly, tasting your own medicine. You looked back to your hands, breaking his intense eye contact to give yourself the courage to be even more uncomfortably honest. "I...I...um." Your first attempt at disclosing your fantasy came out as a squeak. Swallowing, you set your shoulders and tried again, selfishly reminding yourself Jungkook seemed so eager to please that this was 99% likely to get you exactly what you wanted. "I've always been, uh, really into the idea of, um, getting spanked. I've been, uh, too nervous to ever bring it up, before now obviously, but it's definitely one of the biggest kinks I've always wanted to try. Maybe being tied up too, I think I'd like it if I tried but I haven't thought about that as much. But, yeah...spanking, definitely."

"Fuuuuuuuuck."

A lengthened version of Jungkook's earlier under-breath exclamation made you peer up at him. Your thighs already pressed together from the tension of admitting something totally new, you found yourself needing even more friction just from the sight of Jungkook with his head thrown back on the couch, a veiny hand threaded in his hair to pull the long waves back from his forehead. The full reveal of his sharp eyebrows brought a whole new level of intensity to Jungkook's already beautifully carved features. He glanced over at you, then squeezed his eyes shut with a terse exhale. You couldn't place why, but you felt a deep attraction to the way he expertly restrained himself from acting on the lust written over his face—not under your control, but his own.

"Oh, fuck. What the fuck. How the fuck would you fucking know," he swore more in a single burst than he cumulatively had ever in your presence.

"What?" you toyed, heart rate still high but relaxed enough to enjoy agitating him. "Something ring a bell?"

Jungkook shuddered out a long breath, hand ruffling his hair as his other forearm still tried desperately to subdue his boner.

"Everything," he hissed, more willing to elaborate now that you had done the same, and especially now that he could tell you really did enjoy him being more assertive. "Shit. I...I want...I know you said not to just say this but I really do want everything you want. I can't wait to mark you up. I can't wait to hold you down and bruise your neck. I want it all, I want to make you hurt so good. And then—" Breathless. He looked almost embarrassed. "Then you had to go and somehow guess basically my biggest fucking kink, I can't fucking believe you." Both hands had come up to seize his long locks as he held himself back physically, while finally letting his guard down mentally to declare everything he intended to do to you. Letting out a short laugh, he finally met your eyes. "I wanna spank your ass bright red. Fuck. This is crazy. You're perfect."

Your core throbbed at every bold word. Leaning in close to him, you let your lips approach Jungkook's beautifully sculpted jawline as he panted, his chin tossed up to fully expose his neck. You stopped just short of his skin, in awe of how much you'd been able to work him up and still so tempted to take it to the next level. "Fuck," you echoed. "This is so hot," you murmured almost to yourself. Your eyes closing along with his, you dealt the final blow. "I love that we have so much in common. But come on, you promised. One thing that's not on my list."

Jungkook whined. You could tell he needed to touch you so badly, and no one was stopping him but himself. He had no way of knowing that if he cut the whole discussion and just took you, you wouldn't even try to resist at this point. Staring at his trembling mouth from below, you quickly averted your eyes when he opened his, pretending you hadn't been looking. He inhaled a short hiss, and then spoke.

"Okay..." He paused after just the first word, blowing air through the tiny "o" of his mouth as his eyes bugged slightly from nervousness. He couldn't resist a challenge, though, and his urge to please you overwhelmed his reluctance to peel back one more layer. "So, the pain thing. I think we, uh, feel the same about me giving and you receiving. But...I'm really into it for myself too. I don't know if you'd be comfortable with it, I know you maybe want me to be more dominant and I think I like that more too in general, but you can be as rough with me as you want back. I'd love that." Eyes still open but fluttering, Jungkook's tone grew breathier, heady as he confessed. You almost giggled at how bashfully he worded his desire to dominate you, to rough each other up, but the contrast was so hot you couldn't help sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, eager for him to continue. His voice lowered. "I love being scratched, marked, bitten...hit me, push me back, any kind of pain or any way you can hurt me, I want it." He shivered, but his voice firmed up even further. "I want it so bad."

You fought to stay motionless beside him, unable to even process how much more his honesty had turned you on. You felt helpless in your desire for him, your craving to give him everything he wanted and more. He noticed your charged stillness and shifted toward you, removing a hand from his hair to finally reach for your face. Threading his fingers through your hair instinctively like he had with his own, he tilted your head back to access your neck. Jungkook finally felt confident enough to tease you back as he skimmed his lips over your pulse point, tugging your skin between his teeth for a gentle first taste and grinning when you moaned. Seeing someone so satisfied, for reasons better than just his body or their pride, brought the most incredible rush of blood to his head. And his other head.

"And I get why you want it too," he finished with a whisper in your ear. "So trust me when I say I really, really want to give it to you."

In an instant, your hands yanked his hair down to bring his face up to yours, mouths crashing together. Feverish, restless, you kissed him, hastily attempting to straddle his thick thighs before he threw his body over yours and pinned you to the back of the couch. His hands wandered, intrepid, from your waist to a quick squeeze of your breasts before he spiraled you into his strong arms. Pressing your chest flush with his as your mouths meshed, he ground his hips into you shamelessly, enjoying the way you struggled beneath him to align your core with his rock-hard dick.

"Your room?" You rushed out the words.

Jungkook laughed a little, his tone half whine and half dare. "So we're done talking?"

"Come on," you pleaded back. He finally relented, pulling you up with him and dragging you across the living room and through his door, lips not leaving yours for a second. You backed him into the bed with your arms against his strong chest, and once he was sitting perched on the edge, you laid yourself horizontally over his thighs.

"What are you doing?" he murmured, curling a hand over the dip of your waist to hold you gently.

You angled your head back to make unsteady eye contact with him, flipping your shorts down boldly. His free hand automatically reached to slowly conform to the shape of your ass, so eager to touch you but tentative as he grazed your curves.

"Giving you exactly what you want."

"Fuck. Really? You're sure about this?" Jungkook held careful eye contact as you brought your arms back up, crossing your wrists over your head delicately. You nodded slightly and did your best to meet his gaze with confident invitation, convincing him how much you trusted and wanted him.

He smoothed his warm hand over your ass one more time, then brought it up and watched your thighs tighten at the loss of his touch. Breathing in, still a little shakily, he brought his hand down on your right cheek with a loud but mild smack. A grunt of satisfaction involuntarily left him when he saw your face flinch down into the sheets, subduing a small noise of surprise. He returned his hand to caress the light redness he'd left, checking in with you again. "Is this okay? Let me know if I should stop."

You replied with your face still tucked between your arms, muffled by the bed. "More than okay. Please don't stop."

He spanked you again, moving to your left cheek. This time you felt his dick twitch under you and couldn't help grinding down on him a little bit. "Is that as hard as you can go?" you taunted in low tones, brave enough to egg him on but not quite enough to meet his eyes again.

Jungkook's thighs and core tensed under you, and he squeezed his fingertips tighter, digging into the skin of your ass. "Not at all," he said simply.

Deep breath. A few seconds passed, and his hand came down, harshly. You cried out in shock, the timing unexpected and the sting far sharper, and he gave your other cheek a fourth hard smack before you could even process the third one. "Harder?" he tested. "Tell me."

Another spank. "Mmmf."

"You like this, huh?"

"Yes, I told you," you whimpered back, half-teasing even though you were in no position to do so. Immediately, he cut you off with a stinging hit across both cheeks, and you moaned.

"You really do," he breathed lowly. "Fuck yeah. Take it then."

He spanked you again, and again, then paused, tugging down your shorts all the way to your ankles to expose the crease right above your thighs. Rubbing your already sore bottom, Jungkook cupped the underside of its curve in his big, firm hand. Already anticipating your whine, he drew back his touch and hummed in harmony with you. He continued landing satisfyingly hard smacks, alternating to cover your ass evenly. His dick strained through his pants more and more each time you trembled under his touch. Never hitting you hard enough to do serious damage, he still clearly enjoyed his thorough reddening of your ass, and occasionally took a moment just to caress your skin as it warmed from the spanking. The pain lit your senses up from head to toe. Face burning with deep arousal, you mentally thanked yourself for going out of your comfort zone and unprecedentedly admitting your kinks before even venturing into your first time together. Amidst the thrilling sting of his hand meeting your soft curves, Jungkook eventually noticed your thighs clenching together, craving friction but not really wanting relief from the pleasurable burn.

"You're wet," he marveled, sliding two warm fingers up and down your slit.

"Mhm," you mumbled back as you tilted your hips into his hand. He gave you a light slap right on the folds between your legs, eliciting another soft moan.

"So good for me," Jungkook said softly, pulling you up into his lap by your waist. "You look so pretty like this. I wanna see all of you." He tugged your sweatshirt over your head, followed by your sports bra, thankful that it stretched over your head easily. Suddenly grinning, he wound up and shot it across the room like a rubber band, and you smacked his arm, giggling.

"What was that? You cheeseball," you teased, and he blinked, chuckling lightly back. It occurred to him that he'd never laughed, or made someone laugh, during sex before.

"It was so stretchy! Don't make fun of me," he blushed.

"You're so cute," you said, fingers sliding under his t-shirt hem.

"Cute?" His eyebrows rose in mock disbelief, and he reached around to land another hit to your still-red asscheek.

"Hot," you amended. Raising his shirt and finally getting a full glimpse of his enviable abs, you groaned. "You're extremely hot, and also really cute, and it's kind of ridiculous and I don't really know how to handle all of it at once."

His face scrunching up into a smile at the praise, he fell back onto the bed with his arms behind his head. "You are too, you know. Really cute, of course. But really hot too." As you discarded his shirt and moved on to easing his sweatpants down his hips, you held in a gasp as his erection sprung up from the waistband. He was big, thick, and painfully hard, his tip glistening warm with precum and a lone vein running prominently up his smooth shaft. Although you wouldn't be corroborating them, you had to admit to yourself that all the rumors were true. You instinctively curled a hand around it, barely covering half his length, and he winced at your slightest touch. Pulling off with a single slow stroke, you slid his sweatpants and briefs all the way to the floor and then stood, looking up from his legs to his blown-out eyes to take in the glorious sight of his fully naked body.

"You shave," you said, surprised by the clean skin under his arms and between his legs.

"Yeah," he demurred, self-conscious for some reason. He lowered his arms to fold them over his torso, somehow defining his biceps even more. "I'm on the dance team, and it's nice to feel all smooth for practice and stuff. I don't know, I just like it."

"Oh, that's cool! No worries, I like it too. And you don't mind that..." You looked down at yourself, still just standing naked in front of him. "...I don't? Like, down there at least."

"No, you do you!" he said quickly. With a shy smile, he admitted, "I actually kind of like it on you. I do this for me, anyway, not for anyone else," he playfully noted. Slowly, he was sitting up to take hold of your waist and lower you down to the bed with him. Pausing to kiss the sweet spot under your jaw, he continued. "So don't feel like you have to do anything, or not do anything, either."

Jungkook couldn't quite explain the nature of how his attraction to you had developed. Seeing how open and honest you were with him made it easy for him to be honest with you too, and just to feel comfortable being himself. He admired the way he could still tell you sometimes got nervous like him, but it didn’t stop you from getting real or going bolder. Unable to fully express it in words, he just hoped to ensure you felt as comfortable and respected around him as he did around you. He already knew that he wanted this to be more than just a one-time thing, and while he still hesitated to assume that you felt the same, he intended to leave no doubt by the end of the night.

You moaned as he nipped at the skin of your neck. It was so easy to get swept back up in Jungkook. You could barely handle the friction of his dick rutting against your wet folds from below, craving him inside you. "Ughhh. Wait, one more thing. I'm on the pill, are you clean?"

"Yes," he gasped, barely removing his mouth from your jaw. "Are you?"

"Yeah, so we don't need a condom. If that's cool with you!"

"Yeah! But, you're ready?" He seemed surprised.

"Aren't you?" you whined, beyond holding back. He felt so unbearably hard that his coherence and willpower kind of surprised you too. "Please, I want you so bad."

To your surprise, he lowered his head to the crest of your legs, dotting wet kisses down your torso. Keeping his big brown eyes on you, he teased your entrance with a finger and echoed your immediate groan at the welcome stretch.

"You really are ready," he remarked, awed at the ease with which your wetness sucked the digit in. Frankly, you were in awe as well. It had taken your ex-boyfriend months to figure out how to get you this worked up. Jungkook either had even more experience than you'd heard from the grapevine, or he was a natural. Or maybe you were just really, ridiculously, primally attracted to him. He went on to curve his finger in you and lick a messy swipe up your folds, sucking hard once he reached your sensitive clit. You cried out at the delicious burst of stimulation and he rose up to catch your lips with his.

"I had to do that, just once," he grinned breathlessly. "But—"

"Let me suck you off," you interjected, unbelievably fucking turned on and dying to please him.

"No," he gasped with far more fervency than you'd think anyone could refuse a blowjob. "Please, I was about to say—" he choked out a high-pitched moan as you ran a single finger up his shaft in anticipation, sinking the nails of your other hand into his thigh. "—I think I'm gonna explode if I don't get inside you right this second."

So he did have a breaking point. "Fuck," you muttered, bringing your legs around his to tuck your heels under his tight ass as he lined up. He eased his tip in, keeping heavy eyes on you the whole time, and you could feel the hot, thick tension in his thighs as he struggled to hold himself back from just thrusting into your heat. Slowly, he drew closer into you until he bottomed out with a low moan. You whined at the perfect slight pain of the stretch, and Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, gripping you by your waist. Watching the veins in his forearms stand out as he drove almost all the way out and back into you, you rocked your hips carefully against his with each smooth stroke, getting used to his fullness. When his balls met your ass again, he shuddered a bit and opened his eyes into yours.

You answered his question before he could even ask it. "Jungkook—you feel so good. You can go faster, it's okay."

A smile hit his eyes before his mouth, and he kissed you once, pressing his chest to yours and intertwining your tongues eagerly. You bit his bottom lip as he slowly drew away, tugging it between your teeth to pull a sweet little whimper from his throat. Grinning, he leaned back in to touch his forehead to yours and simultaneously slid a subtle hand under your ass to curve your hips up with his. The slight leftover sensitivity of your skin amplified his light touch, and Jungkook seemed to realize this, curling his fingers to tease you with the tips of his nails. Instinctively, you ducked to bite his neck, not even registering your move to pass the pain back to him until he choked out a beautifully half-restrained moan and snapped his hips into yours. Gasping, you encouraged him to lose himself in you, dragging your lips up to latch around his earlobe. He hissed and thrust into you sharply again, meeting the time of your movements as you swirled your tongue between each of his hoop earrings. Soon he was pounding you rhythmically, finally letting you feel the full force of his strength but keeping remarkable control over both his body and yours. Both of you had gone silent except for your heavy breaths, lost in the moment, but the flexed shivers of his thighs and twitches of his fingers in your hair told you all you needed to know. Suddenly yanking your strands to pull you back from the additional bruise you'd sucked beneath his ear, he earned a new set of scratches on his back as your hands dragged down the muscular expanse in reply. Jungkook switched places with you to draw dark clouds from your skin, a storm brewing under your jaw. Your face fell into pure bliss, eyes shut and immersed in the barrage of sensation from his hands, mouth, and big dick filling you. Already feeling the familiar tension that preceded an orgasm building through your whole body, you chased him closer to his climax too, grinding back roughly into every thrust and raking your hands over every part of his firm body you could reach.

You had really been fooling yourself when you thought you could try something casual for once. You wanted more of Jungkook, all of Jungkook, nothing but Jungkook ever again. Knowing he'd never even gone back to the same hookup twice sank slight anxiety into your stomach, a kind of future nostalgia for this moment you already feared losing. You knew you weren't anything special compared to the catalogue of gorgeous girls he'd had his turn with, but a deviant voice whispered from the back of your mind that you could be, because it was clear none had bothered to learn him like this. You'd still try your desperate best not to want too much from him, but you resolved to do whatever you could to make him crave more.

Rolling your hips in a smooth circle against him, you clenched around his dick and your hands tightened their fierce hold on his tiny waist. You felt his abs tense within your grasp as he tried not to stutter into you.

"Fuck. No." His voice cracked, but held an undertone of ferocity. "You come first." Jungkook rushed a hand to your clit, adding pressure in small, deft motions with a fingertip as he kept fucking you deep. You sank your teeth into his shoulder in response, drawing your hands up his back to clutch him closer to you, and Jungkook cried out. You left your mouth on his golden skin to stifle your moans as he sped up his fingers, and he tried to let you stay there but eventually couldn't help pulling you off him to see your face. Eyes narrowed and eyebrows turning up sharp at the ends, he watched you like a hawk to track the exact moment when he pushed you over the edge. Your face crumpled and you felt your whole body burn under his gaze as you came, squeezing around him in waves of pleasure while he fucked you through your high, unrelenting. Drinking up the bliss obvious on your features, Jungkook's eyes never left yours and his expression grew more and more fucked out. You marveled at how even as you lost control and energy to fuck him back, your body freezing in orgasm seemed to turn him on further. One last pulse of the tension leaving your core made his dick throb inside you, and you impulsively broke your eye contact to lean in and bite down slow but hard on his neck again. He gasped.

"You're amazing." Murmuring into his skin, you kissed the bite marks gently. Jungkook whimpered at the sweet contradiction and lurched into your hips even harder. You recovered to move with him, squeezing him deeper into you every time he bottomed out, and as his breathless moans escalated in pitch, his whole body shivered with each stroke. Pressing wet, heavy kisses all over his neck, you felt his jaw flutter while his lips hung open. His considerable strength spent, Jungkook shuddered one last hard thrust into you and finally let go, coating your walls from within. His hips lightly rocked against yours as he stayed deep inside you, still hard and savoring the euphoric release he'd held back for so long. You felt so incredibly warm and comfortable around his sensitive dick, relaxed but still holding him tight, and he couldn't help holding you up for a languid kiss before pulling out of you smoothly.

He briefly looked into your eyes, and you saw stars. The sun had continued to set outside, and it peeked between the blinds of his window to wrap you both in a warm, slivered glow. Staring down at his hands on your body, Jungkook took a deep breath and collapsed to your side, holding you close. You settled into him, cupping a hand over his head on your chest. With your fingers laced through his sweaty hair, you stroked his temple with your thumb, worrying for a second whether the gesture seemed too intimate but forgetting your fear when he snuggled up into your touch. You felt the need to say something, to figure out what the fuck was next after this, but stayed silent, not wanting to disturb the comforting weight of his frame. Heartbeat still racing, Jungkook stretched out to breathe a long sigh. As he sank back into you, you stretched under him too, letting his solid, warm body drape over you like a blanket. This couldn't be farther from what you'd expected with him, but you weren't about to make it stop. Surely, eventually, he would.

A minute passed. And then five. And then, before either of you could talk yourselves out of it, you were asleep, intertwined.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Before the Night Ends

Dean/Castiel, 2.1k words, post-Wedding/pre-Honeymoon

ao3

It's been a wedding for the ages. Dean and Castiel finally tied the knot, with guests flying in from all across America, Heaven, Hell - even the Empty. But everything must come to an end, and after a wonderful Roadhouse reception Dean and Cas drove off in Baby and off towards their honeymoon.

Except, it's a long drive from Kansas plains to California beaches. They stop close to midnight at a motel along the highway, to sleep, celebrate their wedding night and that it's Valentine's Day, too.

           There’s a motel off Highway 70 called Angel’s Paradise, first established in the early 1900s, and last renovated in 1982. The owners back then, who remain so today, envisioned heaven as some tropical destination. That meant each room, alike in their simplicity and functionality, would be redone along these guidelines. Walls plastered with paper-print palm fronds and blooming, pink flowers. Bathrooms tiled a light blue – like waters from the clearest ocean – and little soaps shaped like shells to match the shell-patterned shower curtain. They’d have an entertainment unit housing a small television set would double as a dust collector, various ocean-themed knick-knacks cluttered atop it, ranging from homemade to store bought. A wicker table situated between two wicker chairs, a wicker dresser placed next to the entertainment unit and a wicker bed-or-beds layered by their own palm fronds, matching the walls. Finally, tying the décor together was a little (wicker) side table near the door with a plastic conch set to catch keys or loose change or cigarette ash. Given these changes, any customer might imagine they were in Florida rather then Colorado, or it was June instead of February. Especially in the crown jewel of Angel’s Paradise, the Honeymoon Suite.

           Except the Suite’s current boarders were very aware of where and when they are. Probably because they have yet to see their room for the night.

           Dean tucks his hands into his elbows, shivering outside the Suite while Cas fiddles with its doorknob. “Come on,” he whines, “what’s the hold-up?”

           Cas pauses, turning to Dean. “Sorry,” he says, “the lady at the counter – she said they were having issues since the last occupants. Something about them breaking the lock?”

           “Fuckin’ a…” Dean hisses, bouncing now. An icy wind cuts across the parking lot, Dean defenseless to it because he forwent a heavier jacket and how thin the material of his suit was. Castiel looks marginally warmer than Dean, wrapped in his trademark trench coat. Still, Dean notices how his hands tremble while holding the key. Cas’s hand flicks to the left, Dean’s gaze catching the silver band wrapped around his ring finger. One day, he may get used to it. Dean hopes he never does and can experience the same flutter of warmth rippling through his heart from seeing it. He leans into Cas, Dean dropping his head onto Cas’s shoulder. “Who do I have to pray to for this door to open?”

           “No one,” Cas declares, lock clicking in time with his words, “because it’s open!”

           Dean curses under breath, smiling. “Great,” he says, “let’s get in there, then – hey… hey!”

           Swept off his feet, Dean falls into the loving grip of his husband. Cas places one arm at his back, supporting most of the weight, while the other arm traps Dean’s knees, keeping his legs bent and Dean unable to wriggle himself free. Cas smiles down at him, laughing.

           “You think this is so funny,” Dean scowls, holding onto Cas’s tie like it were a lifeline. “You little shit –“

           “Mr. Shit, Dean,” Cas interrupts, kicking the door open and striding past the threshold, “I did take your last name, after all.”

           “My mistake…” He huffs, burying his head in Cas’s chest while he uses the fingers not squeezing Cas’s tie to comb the hairs at his husband’s neck. “Dean and Castiel Shit… I can see the monogramed towels already.” Dean closes his eyes, purring like a kitten while he absorbs the heat that radiates from Cas. It’s inhuman how much of a furnace he was, especially after giving up his grace to live as a human, to be human with Dean. Like always, Dean’s smile widens at the thought. He tries hiding his rapidly flushing face, but Cas tears Dean off of him. He ungraciously dumps Dean onto the bed, blue eyes betraying his cool demeanor as they glow with mirth from Dean’s startled squawking. “What do you think you’re doing?”

           “Going to get the bags,” he says, moving towards the door, “Why don’t you get comfortable, I’ll only be a moment.”

           Dean shakes his head, situating himself better on the bed. He sits at the foot of it, toeing off his snakeskin boots and then peeling off the dark grey dress socks he wore with them. While pulling at his tie, Cas returns with their bags. He doesn’t close the door after, and a blustery chill fills the space. Goosepimples erupt in scattered bunches up and down Dean’s arms. “Close the door!” he yells, dumping the tie onto the slowly growing pile of discarded clothing. His suit jacket joins his tie and socks and boots as Cas deposits their bags by the television. He then hits the door with his elbow, shutting out the wind. Cas gestures at the closed door with a flourish and wry grin. Dean scoffs, “Ugh, who’s bright idea was it to do this in winter?”

           “The same man who, on his birthday, said,” Cas drifts closer, helping Dean unbutton his shirt, “and I quote, ‘If you think you can propose to me and not expect us to get married as soon as possible, then you don’t know what you’re signing up for… buddy’.” Cas eases the shirt off Dean’s shoulders, kissing the exposed skin right above his t-shirt. “For the record,” Cas adds, whispering into his collarbone, “I expected it. It was one of the reasons why I couldn’t wait any longer.”

           Dean remembers. Their family, together, celebrating Dean’s birthday. His first birthday free from Chuck’s machinations, with a cake Jack spent all day baking and presents that lined the end of the table. He held Cas’s hand as he blew out the candles, mind blank because nothing he could wish for would match the happiness he felt in that moment. He tells Cas this after he asks what he wished for. And Cas, of course, proceeds to kiss him. Cas kisses him while Eileen cut the cake, while Jack helped plate them, and while Sam clapped Dean’s shoulders in warning to reign it in. Dean pulled back, gasping, unsure how he might respond to his then-boyfriend’s passion. Then Cas asked him that all-important, heart-stopping, mind-blowing question, opened a velvet box, and Dean knew exactly what to say.

           “I would’ve waited,” Dean reveals, helping Cas with his clothes as Cas guides Dean’s legs out of his slacks. “Everyone knows how long I’ve waited to tell you I love you… I would’ve waited, even if we died and we had to get married in heaven.” Dean pecks Cas’s lips, divesting him of both jackets and his button-down shirt. “I’m glad we didn’t have to, though.”

           “So am I.”

           They stand together in t-shirts and boxers, barely an inch of space between them. No one speaks, not that they have to, but the usually comfortable silence makes Dean nervous. His focus drifts from Cas and onto the plastic conch behind him. Then, he notices how the rest of the room is decorated. Dean giggles, “Wow… it’s, this place is…”

           Cas nods. Dean needn’t say anything else. “You should’ve seen the inside,” he snickers, “the staff were wearing Hawaiian shirts and shark-tooth necklaces.”

           “Hey,” Dean shoves him, “don’t diss Hawaiian shirts.” He collects his clothes and boots, bringing them over to their duffels. “I’ve got about three packed away in here, and I’m planning on buying at least a few more before our honeymoon ends.”

           “Should they even be called Hawaiian shirts if we’re not in Hawaii?” Cas asks. Dean hears the mattress squeak, and guesses his husband sat on the bed. He digs through the duffel, Cas monologuing in the background. “Are they called Coloradan shirts since we’re in Colorado? If we buy them in California, won’t they be Californian Shirts? Or is it because they’re made in Hawaii, and then shipped elsewhere? Can you imagine it – shirt factories, dotting the beaches? Oh, I’d hope the workers making all these Hawaiian shirts are at least being paid a fair wage, given how popular they seem to be…”

           “There’s no factories on any beaches,” Dean tells him, “and – hate to burst your bubble, angel – but I doubt Hawaiian shirt makers are paid what they deserve, regardless of where their factories are.” Cas hums in that same, sullen note he usually does when the beginning notes of Sarah McLachlan play and Dean can’t switch channels fast enough. He folds his clothes, setting them aside. Then, Dean sneaks his hand into his stack of clean boxers, finding the surprise he hid for his husband. “Hey,” Dean rises, “capitalism sucks, but we can’t let it ruin our trip.” Dean drops onto Cas’s lap, delighting in the tiny ‘oof’ that escapes from his husband. “Here,” he says, “I was saving this for later… but hell, we’re running out of time. I’d rather give it to you before the night ends than a day later.” Dean hands him an envelope, Cas’s name scrawled on the front. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

           “A card?” Cas asks, flipping the envelope back and forth, “Dean… you didn’t have to get me anything.”

           “’Course I did…” Dean presses a kiss to Cas’s temple, ruffling his hair. “It’s Valentine’s Day… probably the first Valentine’s Day I actually wanted to celebrate in a long time, because I’ve got someone I love and want to celebrate. And sure, it’s not like we didn’t do just that… in front of all our friends and families… and a few exes… and uninvited guests –“

           “The point, Dean?”

           “Sorry,” Dean lays his head atop Cas’s, watching him peel away the envelope’s glue. “We’ll have tons more holidays and anniversaries to celebrate in the future… I just didn’t want our first Valentine’s Day to be overshadowed by our wedding. You mean so much to me that I’m not gonna just lump the two together like you’re some kid who was unlucky enough to be born on Christmas. You deserve it all.” Cas flips the envelope, shaking its contents free. A pair of red panties floats onto his outstretched hand. “Not just some stinkin’ card.”

           Cas squeezes the panties. “Are you –?”

           “About to show you how friggin’ fantastic married sex is?” Dean wrangles the panties from Cas’s fist, waving it about like a flag. “You bet. Let me slip these on and…“ He starts towards the bathroom, Cas slowly chasing him.

           “You don’t have to,” his husband growls, “you can change here –“

           “Cas, I won’t be long –“

           “I don’t know if I can wait!”

           “You’ll have to!” Dean closes the door on Cas’s face, laughing as he hears his husband bang against the door in protest. He yells for Dean, but Dean ignores him. Dean brings his hand to his face, covering his mouth with both it and the panties he carries. They smell like cherries. He forgot to tell Cas they’re edible. Cas will figure that out later.

           He’ll also give Cas his real card later, as well. The one he wrote using all the words Dean was too afraid to say at the altar. Little details about the way Cas hogs all the blankets when he sleeps, and how his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and that Cas’s hugs chase away dark thoughts better than any drink might’ve. There were also bigger things he mentioned, in this card. About Cas and his unwavering faith in Dean, even at times where he didn’t deserve it. About the despair that bloomed whenever Cas left his side, a bouquet of horrid, wilted roses growing rampantly over his heart and piercing it with their thorns during those awful times it seemed their last goodbye truly was. About the love Cas inspired within Dean that changed his life, from the very beginning, from the touch of Cas’s hand on his shoulder. That simple act which broke him free from Chuck’s wheel again and again and again. Dean couldn’t say any of this in a crowded room. He doubts he can with only Cas. He already cried enough for one day. So, they’ll have sex instead. After they’ve burned through the remaining fumes that linger in their tanks, Dean will present the card, curl against Cas’s side with his head tucked underneath his husband’s chin, and listen while Cas reads how much he means to Cas.

           But that won’t be until later. Now, Dean shimmies out of his boxers. He pulls the panties on, flicking the bow twice once it’s settled. “Are you ready?” Dean croons, jiggling the knob, “because it’s time to ride ‘em, cowboy!”

           Cas pries the door loose, almost ripping it off its hinges as pull Dean forward into a searing kiss. Dean smiles into it, letting Cas take lead. Dean’s gift were the panties. Cas’s gift is putting in the work to get them off. Cas throws Dean onto the bed, his mouth attacking Dean’s neck. His hand trails down Dean’s side, tickling and teasing him.

           He couldn’t have written a better ending to his story. Or imagine a better beginning to his next.

[mittensmorgul]

Happy Resurrection Day

A short fic in celebration of Dean and Cas’s 12th anniversary!

Rated: T Words: 3652

Summary: The world didn't end, and Dean and Cas finally get to choose each other. It only took twelve years and a little road trip back to where it all started.

Read it here on AO3

One random morning in mid-September, a few months after the world was left in their hands once and for all, Dean woke up to the nagging feeling he was forgetting something. There wasn’t really much to forget anymore. There was no looming apocalypse, no new catastrophe on the horizon. The biggest dilemma he’d faced in the last few days was whether he had enough milk to make pancakes, or whether he’d have to run out to the store before breakfast.

Sure, he and Cas took the occasional salt and burn. Easy hunts they could usually dust in a day. Sam had taken an extended road trip to see the country and try to figure out what he wanted to do with himself now that he was truly free to explore what life after Chuck could look like, but Dean already knew. He’d known for a good long time that he loved his life, loved the bunker, and loved hunting. And for whatever reason, Cas had just decided to stay, no strings attached. Whether Dean was itching to get out on the road for a long weekend on the slimmest excuse of a hunt that just as often as not turned into a detour to some tourist trap or other, or whether Dean just wanted to sit at home bingeing an old tv series or having a movie marathon, Cas seemed equally content with the slate of activities Dean conjured up for them.

He hadn’t put it into so many words, and he definitely hadn’t said it to Cas, but Dean also loved that Cas had stayed with him.

So it was strange waking up with an unsettled swirling in the pit of his stomach. He held a hand up to his forehead, checked his eyes and throat in the mirror to make sure he wasn’t coming down with something. He didn’t want to get Cas sick, if he was. He’d already survived Cas’s first cold as a human, just barely. They went through so much soup in a week, Dean was starting to wonder if Cas was just milking it for the room service. He had to admit that Cas letting him walk him through the highlights of Dr. Sexy while he was curled up in a blanket nest by his side wasn’t the worst thing he’d had to endure. But for now, Dean wasn’t sick. He just had a restlessness in his bones and no idea how to cure it.

He pulled on his robe and ambled out to the kitchen. Coffee would help him figure out what was eating at him, surely. Only Cas had beat him to it, which was unusual enough to amp up that uneasy feeling. Dean usually beat Cas to the kitchen most mornings, so walking in to a full pot of coffee and no other sign of Cas had him wondering if something was wrong. He poured himself a cup and set off in search of Cas, and whatever he was up to so early in the morning.

He found Cas sitting at the table in the library scrolling around on the internet. Dean just stood in the doorway and watched him for a moment, studying his posture as if it might give him some clue what sort of mood Cas was in. Human or not, Cas still had the intense focus he’d always had as an angel, and aside from pausing to take a sip of his coffee or navigate to the next page, he barely moved from his position hunched over the keyboard. Rather than startle him, Dean waited until Cas put his mug down before clearing his throat to announce his presence.

“Mornin’ sunshine. You’re up early.”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, giving him a guilty glance before going back to his work. “Yes, I had been hoping to surprise you later, but I apparently didn’t wake up early enough for that. I hope you slept okay.”

Dean shrugged as he walked around the table and sat down across from Cas. He took a sip of his coffee before replying.

“Mostly. Woke up feeling restless, and I couldn’t figure out why.”

Cas nodded at him as if he understood exactly what Dean meant. “I did, as well. And then I checked the calendar. I assume you know what today is?”

Dean’s brow furrowed as he performed a few calculations. Days all sort of blended together after a while, but they’d made a trip up to Henderson for supplies on Wednesday, and that was only a couple days before.

“Friday?” Dean eventually replied, hoping he was right.

Cas laughed, but shook his head. “It is Friday, but it’s also September 18th.”

Dean blinked at him for a moment as he mentally rocketed back to a run down old gas station where the windows shattered the first time Cas had ever tried to introduce himself. He’d just clawed his way out of his own grave, and the local newspaper had helpfully supplied him the date, and the knowledge that he’d been in hell all of four months. No wonder he’d woken up feeling weird. He might’ve forgotten the date, but somewhere deep down, some part of him would always know it.

Dean came back to himself to find Cas waiting patiently for him, like he always did. He took another sip of his coffee and set the mug down, recalling what Cas had said before sending him off down disturbing memory lane. Better to focus on the present than linger in that particular bit of the past.

“So you were planning a surprise?”

Cas shrugged. “I thought maybe we should do something to celebrate. People celebrate these sorts of milestones, yes?”

Dean wobbled his head side to side and made a face. “Pretty sure Hallmark dosn’t make a card for this one.”

Cas frowned, reaching up to shut the laptop as if he’d made some terrible faux pas, but Dean quickly dropped his hand atop Cas’s to stop him.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate it anyway,” he said more quietly, smiling at Cas. “It was a pretty noteworthy occasion, you pulling me outta hell. What did you have in mind?”

Cas’s frown deepened. “That’s where I’ve been stuck all morning. It felt inappropriate to suggest going to visit your gravesite, and taking you out to dinner seems… trite, in light of the occasion.”

“You know me, Cas. I’m always up for food,” Dean replied, trying to lighten the mood. “Plus it wasn’t just about me being un-dead, you know. It’s the whole reason we met in the first place. And look how that turned out.”

Cas had finally begun to smile again, and turned his attention back to the computer. “We didn’t actually meet face to face until late the next night when you summoned me. There was a bit of a delay due to unforeseen circumstances.”

Dean thought about that for a minute, nodding as he remembered the events of his first few days back on earth. “Well, if you wanna do it right, we could always take a road trip back to that old barn, see if it’s still standing.”

“Have you been back there since then?” Cas asked, curious now.

Dean shook his head. “Driven by it a few times over the years, but never went back inside. The whole farm’s completely overgrown. I figured someone would’ve gotten freaked out by all the weird symbols and burned the place down by now. It was still standing as of a couple years ago.” That got Dean curious. “Have you been back?”

“It’s been a while,” Cas said quietly. “I used to fly there sometimes, when I still could. It was a quiet place to think.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Then that’s what we should do. We’re taking a road trip. I know at least three great diners between here and there I haven’t taken you to yet. We can make a whole weekend out of it.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Cas replied, finally shutting the computer.

“Good. Breakfast first, then we’ll head out. Have ourselves a little resurrection day road trip.”

Dean grabbed his mug and stood up. He’d need to get dressed and pack a bag. They could have a quick breakfast if they were gonna be stopping at Dana’s Diner for lunch. It was a bit of a detour, but the burgers were worth it. He flashed a grin at Cas.

“I’m gonna pack a bag and grab some cereal before we hit the road. Meet you in the kitchen in 20?”

Cas nodded and shut the laptop. As Dean made his way out to the hall, he heard Cas mutter quietly, “Happy Resurrection Day,” as if he was testing out the sentiment. He bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

The drive to Illinois took most of the day. It could’ve been a lot quicker, but in addition to Dana’s, they hit a steakhouse on the outskirts of Chicago for dinner before swinging back south toward their destination. Dean bypassed the Astoria Motel where a mirrored ceiling shattered by Cas’s angelic voice had once nearly killed him. He pointed it out as part of their trip down memory lane, but pulled up at a different motel clear across town with the excuse that it would be a shorter drive back to the barn in the morning. Their room was a lot less shabby, and a lot less pay-by-the-hour feeling than the Astoria, so Dean felt it was a win all around.

As they settled in for the night like they had every night they’d been on the road together, Dean let himself really feel the usual longing the three foot chasm between their beds brought out in him. Most nights he’d just roll over and pretend to fall asleep while mashing that feeling down as hard as he could. Tonight, though, he lay in bed staring across that gap, wishing he could make some excuse to crawl into the other bed. Of all nights, and in this particular place, he really just wanted someone to hug until dawn.

The specific someone being Cas.

In the dark, in the quiet listening to Cas’s breathing even out as he drifted off, for one moment Dean allowed himself to admit that he didn’t just love that Cas had stayed with him. He loved Cas. Full stop. Dean lay there until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, holding on to that feeling and knowing he’d have to crush it back down in the morning.

He dreamt of what could’ve happened in that barn, if he hadn’t stabbed Cas that first time they’d met. With twelve years of history between them now, and Dean’s quiet revelation that he was in love with Cas, his dream-self went through a series of alternate endings to that meeting ranging from love confessions to things that he would definitely not be enumerating to Cas over breakfast the next morning. It made for an excellent night’s slumber.

Morning came without the restlessness the previous day had. Dean opened his eyes to the dawn light seeping between the curtains to shine a golden spotlight on Cas’s face, which was smiling back at him.

“Hello, Dean. I take it you slept better last night?”

Dean yawned, but didn’t quite feel like getting up yet. He wanted to enjoy this surreal moment for just a bit longer. Instead he stretched out under the blankets and propped himself up on his pillow to get a better look at Cas.

“Yeah, you?”

Cas propped himself up on his elbow, no longer in the little beam of light, and blinked at him. “I’m reserving judgment until after we have coffee, but yes. It seems to have been satisfactory.” Cas frowned for a second, and Dean was about to ask what was wrong, when Cas asked, puzzled, “If yesterday was Resurrection Day, what does that make today?”

Dean must’ve still been a bit loopy from his late night thoughts, the restful sleep, and what he could recall of the dream he’d been having. He never would’ve blurted it out around a yawn otherwise, but that’s exactly what he did.

“It’s countdown to Cas day.”

He froze for a second after the words had escaped into the wild, and then slowly turned to take in the fond look on Cas’s face.

“I’m already here, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t twelve years ago. I didn’t even know your name yet.”

“You do now,” Cas replied. “How should we celebrate it? Since I sincerely hope you weren’t dead set on a complete reenactment. I don’t have the power to rattle the roof or blow open the doors anymore.”

Dean grinned at that and sat up. “Yeah, I don’t really wanna shoot you, either.”

“I appreciate that,” Cas replied, sitting up on the edge of his own bed opposite Dean. He looked right into Dean’s eyes, as if attempting to convey some deeper meaning to his words, and spoke quietly. “I’m glad you finally believe in me.”

They sat there for a long moment before Dean finally nodded. “‘Course I believe in you, Cas.”

They took turns in the shower and packed up their bags. After a quick breakfast on the way to the farm, they drove down the overgrown dirt road that led to the barn. Dean had to leave the car a good way back down the road, and they hiked through the knee-high scrub to the broken old barn door. Dean picked up a shattered timber and tossed it out of the way as he pushed his way inside.

“Man, this place is a lot less intimidating looking in broad daylight,” he said, as the two of them stood in the doorway and took in the faded symbols Bobby had painted on every surface of the interior. Broken glass still littered the floor, now covered with a heavy layer of dust.

“It looks different now, somehow,” Cas added. “Smaller. Which is strange considering I was so much larger the first time I was here.”

Dean turned to him and smiled. “Yeah, but now you’re seeing it human. It’s gotta be weird.”

Cas shrugged, and walked around the perimeter of the barn, examining the sigils out of old habit. “This has always been a quiet place for me,” he said, touching a warding sigil with his fingertips before continuing on. “Nothing unholy could find me here. I could be alone with my thoughts.”

Dean noticed a few of the sigils Cas stopped by, and didn’t recognize them. A collection of carefully drawn wards drawn much smaller and in a different shade of paint that stood out from all the rest he’d watched Bobby create twelve years ago.

“Did you add those?” he asked.

Cas nodded. “Angel proofing. Or at least, concealing.”

Dean thought back to all the times Cas had been running or hiding from Heaven and the rest of the angels. When he’d been human and had nowhere to go, and instead of coming here he’d run in the opposite direction, because Dean had kicked him out. A bolt of guilt shot through him and nailed his feet to the floor. This was a place Dean hadn’t come back to because it reminded him that he’d been to Hell, reminded him that Heaven had wanted him for their own for reasons that frankly horrified him now. But for Cas, this was the place Dean had first met him, a place that for him would forever be about the moment he was truly introduced to humanity. It had been kind of a shit introduction, if Dean was honest with himself. But twelve years later, after all the shit had played itself out, Cas had finally made his own choice about his life, and he’d come back to where it all began.

“Happy resurrection day,” Dean said as he stared at Cas from across the room.

Cas turned to him, the look of surprise on his face quickly turning to a smile. “It is a bit like a resurrection, isn’t it? We’ve come all the way back around to where it started, and we’re free of it all now.”

Dean just nodded dumbly, letting the enormity of it sink in as Cas walked over to stand in front of him.

“I don’t have wings or the power of Heaven at my back, but I do recall something I said to you that night. Good things do happen, Dean. And they have.”

“And here we are again,” Dean said, clearing his throat. Both of their lives had changed that night, and they’d spent so much of their time fighting against everything in the universe since then. The one constant had always been each other, even when they’d totally fucked it all up and broken the natural order and sacrificed themselves to fix it all again, they’d done it to save each other. At the end of the road, and the beginning of their journey, Dean couldn’t keep his feelings bottled up any longer. “I love you, you know.”

Cas sucked in a shocked breath of air and blinked at him for a moment, before a grin broke across his face, lighting up the gloomy, dusty haze in the barn. “I love you too, Dean. I’m so glad I’m here with you.”

Dean shook his head, finally prying his feet free to shuffle closer to Cas. He reached out a hand to rest it on Cas’s shoulder, right at the base of his neck. “No, I mean, I love you. I think I always have, and I know I always will, but I only really just figured it out. I’m in love with you and you’ve put me back together in ways you can’t even imagine. You might’ve resurrected me and healed me more times than I can count, but you helped make me a whole person, Cas. And I love you.”

Dean felt the prickling of tears behind his eyes and struggled to hold them back. Like he always did, Cas stared into him, right through him, and lifted a hand to Dean’s cheek.

“I’d hoped it was obvious when I chose humanity, when I chose to stay with you, that I felt the same way for you, Dean. I didn’t have any idea how much knowing you would change me, how much you would teach me about humanity and what makes life worth living when I first walked through those doors. One thing I did know, though, was that I already loved you. I had no idea what that even meant yet, but I would learn.”

A slightly manic laugh escaped Dean’s lips at the euphoria of hearing Cas’s words, seeing the heartbreaking honesty in his face, and wondering how long it was polite to wait before kissing him. Cas gave him a relieved smile, as if he’d been holding it all in far too long, and Dean let out a sigh as he pulled Cas to him.

“Love at first stab, huh?” Dean asked, smiling right into Cas’s face.

“Don’t belittle it, Dean. I loved you even before then. The moment I laid a hand on you in Hell. Healing your soul and reuniting it with your body, resting you gently in your grave and waiting for you to emerge again.”

“You do know how fucked up that was, right? You couldn’t have just dug me out?”

Cas’s brow furrowed. “It was Heaven’s orders. I never thought to question them. But yes, it has bothered me many times over the years.”

“Yeah, well, it’s bothered me more than once that I tried to thank you for saving me from Hell by stabbing you in the heart.”

“It worked, though,” Cas replied, one eyebrow raised. “I’m still here with you.”

“Better than cupid’s arrow,” Dean muttered, and then grimaced at his own terrible reference. It amused Cas, though. “Okay, enough awful jokes. Are you gonna kiss me already?”

Cas made a considering face, as if he hadn’t already made up his mind. “Happy resurrection day to both of us, then. I suppose we know exactly how to celebrate it now.”

Dean took that as the invitation it was, and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met tentatively at first, and then more confidently as they clung to one another in the gloom. The exploding lights were all internal this time, but no less spectacular. Dean shuffled his feet and heard the crunching of broken glass, and reluctantly pulled back from Cas.

“We should probably find someplace less dangerous if we’re gonna keep going…”

Cas nodded his regretful agreement. With one last look around the old barn, they pulled the doors shut.

“We can come back next year, if you want,” Dean said, taking Cas’s hand and leading him back to the car. “Make it an annual thing.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Cas replied. “The annual resurrection road trip.”

“Next year we bring a broom,” Dean added, leading Cas through the weeds. “Maybe a picnic.”

Cas laughed, letting his hand go when they reached the car.

“So what do you wanna do next?” Dean asked as he climbed back behind the wheel. “We still technically got the rest of the day to celebrate.”

“You mentioned several diners you wanted to introduce me to, and it’s nearly time for lunch,” Cas replied.

Dean thought over their options, then leaned across the front seat to plant a kiss on the corner of Cas’s mouth, just because he could. The look of surprised delight on Cas’s face was more than worth it. “How much of a detour are you up for?”

Cas gave him a look of mock pity. “Dean, I’ll go anywhere with you. No detour is too long if I have you to share the journey with.”

Dean gave him a proper kiss, with a promise of more for later. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

[angst-fairygodmother]

Hi. I was wondering if you could maybe do a Diego Hargreeves/Reader one using BH from the 100 Ways to Say I Love You or Kiss #V. I mean if you're not too busy. Sorry, I know you probably have better requests but there's not a lot of Diego ones that are sweet and I feel like you're really good at sweet.

A/N: Alright, you asked for cute, so I tried to keep cute, as fluffy and fun as I could while also applying generous steam. Also, look Letters! Hope you enjoy Word Count: 1769 Rating: M - sexual situations 

“Please just come unlock the door for me, I know you have a master key and can,” you begged Al, struggling to balance the boxes and bags in your grasp.

“No. I’m not Hargreeves’ minder and it’s not my job to let his girlfriend in just because she doesn’t rate a key,” the old man snapped.

“I mean, in my defense, you told Diego he wasn’t allowed to make a copy of the key and give it to me.”

“I don’t know you, so I don’t want you having a key to anywhere in my gym! It’s a boiler room not an apartment. Nice, pretty thing like you shouldn’t be bothering with him while he lives there anyway.”

You managed a shrug around your packages. “If you won’t let me in, can I decorate out here?”

“No!”

You rolled your eyes before fixing the gym owner with your best puppy-dog pout. “If you didn’t at least sort of like Diego, you would have kicked him out ages ago. So I know you’ll understand when I say that I really, really want to do something nice for him this year.”

“I’m not helping you with this nonsense.”

As he turned to walk away, you blurted out in desperation, “I’ll give you twenty bucks.”

That seemed to catch his attention and he turned back to you. “Why didn’t you start there, girl?”

~

Several hours later, you stepped back to admire your handiwork. It wasn’t perfect, the banner over the sink hung just slightly askew for example, but you had to give it to yourself, you had done a pretty good job.

With a slight smirk, you placed the two paper conical hats on the little folding table, the finishing touch, and sat on the bed to wait for your boyfriend to return home.

You were just about dozing off when you heard the doorknob rattle and braced yourself. You were fairly certain that he wouldn’t enter expecting danger, but with his penchant for throwing knives, you could never be too careful.

“Hi hon,” you said, once you were sure you weren’t about to be skewered.

“Y/N,” he started before smirking, “hey.”

“How was your day?” you tried to be as nonchalant as possible, even though if you were standing you would be bouncing on the balls of your feet in excited anticipation.

“You know, same old same old,” he shrugged as he started removing the leather harness he always wore out.

You moved to his side, kissing him on the cheek, your hands deftly replacing his own to undo the buckles on the straps.

“Really?” you asked. “There was nothing special about today?”

His eyes flickered to yours as he caught your tone. You watched the quick flash of panic as he considered that he might have forgotten something important, like an anniversary, before he registered that you were still smiling adoringly at him. Only then, did he actually look around the room, searching for some clue for what was going on. His mouth fell open in shock and he stared, dumbfounded.

“What’s…all this?” he asked after a moment, stunned expression still in place as he gestured to the signs you had carefully taped to the walls.

“Well, if you looked a calendar, you’d know today is October 1st…”

“Uh-huh…” he nodded, eyes now falling on the table and the party hats sitting there.

“Which means today is…?”

“Y/N, what are you getting at?” he asked, facing you with a completely puzzled expression.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s your birthday, Diego. So I wanted to do something for you. I know it’s not much, but Al vetoed throwing you a party in the main room. Said something about it being a serious business, not a Chuck E. Cheese.”

“Y/N. This is your idea of ‘not much?’ There are balloons…” his voice was incredulous and for a moment you worried that he was annoyed.

“I…it’s just…I know your father was never big on parties…or fun…or joy…when you were growing up, so I wanted to do something nice for you. I thought, for once, you should have a proper birthday.”

You could see him melt at your words, offering you a soft smile. “It’s perfect, Baby. I…can’t believe you went through all this effort just for me.”

“Of course I did, I love you Diego.”

He grinned even wider at that, pulling you in for a kiss which warmed you to the core and made you very tempted to suggest skipping the dinner and cake that you had worked so hard to procure. After you reluctantly separated, you guided him over to the table and set a plate of take-out lasagna in front of him as if it was a five-star dinner at the most exclusive club in the world. The two of you ate in companionable quiet, one hand laced together over the tabletop the entire time. Even if you were in a dingy boiler-room, everything about the moment was perfect.

“There is one more thing…” you smirked as you set about cleaning up from both dinner and the chocolate cake that had followed. “Your birthday present.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Y/N. Not after all this.”

“Well I did anyway. But you’ll have to unwrap it.”

You returned his puzzled look with a temptingly raised eyebrow. His eyes trailed down over you slowly before flicking back to the look on your face.

“I think that can be arranged,” he said, stepping closer and placing his hands on your shoulders.

“I thought as much,” you replied. You itched to start planting kisses over every inch of him, but you wanted to let him have total control, do whatever he wanted tonight, so you stood as still as you could.

Slowly his hands trailed down your arms, ghosting over your flesh before he twined his fingers with yours.

“I might be the luckiest man in the world.”

He pulled you in close by your joined hands causing you to almost stumble into him as he kissed you, but quickly, you took control, impatient with his gentle touches. Tugging teasingly on his lower lip, you coaxed his mouth to part for you and allow you to explore every inch of his mouth, as if you didn’t know everything about him. Fingers still interlocked, you began luring him toward the small bed in the corner, step by faltering step.

You hadn’t gotten far when he pulled you up short with a growl, releasing your hands in order to tangle one of his in your hair, tugging lightly and drawing out a moan. With the other, he began to caress your side, running his fingers up and down, sliding increasingly lower past your hip until he reached the hemline of your dress. Bunching the fabric in his fingers, he gathered it and slowly pulled it off of you, hot skin brushing against yours as he exposed you and the royal blue lace lingerie you had bought specifically for the occasion. He pulled back to get a better look at you and groaned, the sound sending a thrill up your spine and drawing out even more of your desire.

“Do you have any idea the things I want to do to you, Y/N?” he asked, trailing kisses along your collarbone and down the slope of your breast.

He began moving again, backing you toward the bed as he continued to tease, using the hand still tangled in your tresses to angle your head and expose even more skin to him. You moved as he directed, a marionette for him, stumbling and shuffling in a passion-drunk haze.

“I have a few guesses,” you said breathlessly, one of your hands carding through his short, spiked hair and the other clinging desperately to his shoulder.

Truth be told, you weren’t sure what all he’d want to do with or to you, but you trusted him and surrendered to him completely, especially tonight. Anything he wanted, if it was within your power, would be his as far as you were concerned.

Your knees hit the edge of the bedframe and the pair of you fell back. You sighed in relief at not having to try to support yourself on jelly-like legs as he hovered over you.

“God, baby, you look so good like that,” he groaned.

Suddenly, there was a rapid knocking on his door.

“Diego,” the voice on the other side, one you recognized as his brother Klaus, whined through the thick panel. “It’s urgent.”

He sighed. “We could just ignore him. He’ll go away.”

“Or you can just acknowledge and get rid of him. I think knowing he’s hovering outside the door might…kill the mood a bit?”

Before he could respond, the man in question burst through the door in a fabulous flail of limbs and fur trim, landing face first.

“Oh! The door was unlocked!” he cried as he climbed gracelessly to his feet.

His eyes fell on you and Diego, lingering for longer than made either of you comfortable on your half-clothed form below his brother.

“You should hang up a sock or something at least,” Klaus teased.

Diego grunted in frustration, shaking his head and rolling his body to block Klaus’s view of you. “What do you want?”

“Well it’s our collective birthday. And during my third…fifth?...drink I found myself thinking, do I really want to spend today alone? No. I want to celebrate with someone important to me. And who could be more important to share today with than my beloved brother?”

Diego rolled his eyes as Klaus continued to ramble, either too high to realize just how much he was interrupting, or just not caring. The curly-haired man flopped sideways into the threadbare chair in one corner.

“So anyway, happy birthday, bro,” he drawled, kicking his legs about until he positioned himself in a way that he thought was comfortable, sprawled out and clearly determined to stay.

You sighed and reached down to the floor, digging out your dress from where it had somehow ended up, under the bed. Tugging it over your shoulders, you asked, a little sharply, “Do you want some cake, Klaus?”

He grinned and clapped his hands, “Oh I would love some. That is so sweet of you, Y/N.”

“No, babe, don’t. If you feed him he’s never going to leave,” Diego complained.

“I’m not going to be rude. It is his birthday too after all.”

You leaned in to whisper into Diego’s ear, nipping teasingly on the lobe as you did, “besides, it’s not like your present is going anywhere. It’s yours, any time any place.”

[kwrittink]

Making Sure

Pairing: Human!Reader x Werewolf! Bangchan

Genre: Fluff/Smut

Warnings: language, mentions of intercourse, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of knotting, intercourse, mentions of overstimulation

You stared at the bright pink paper in awe, heart thrumming with force inside your chest enough to make your fingers tremble with the echo.

That was impossible. You couldn't be-

Well, it wasn't exactly impossible and you actually would very much like to be- Sigh. You were scared to even complete the thought. False hope after all those years would break your heart.

The issue to trust that thin strip of testing paper was that everything you convinced yourself to be conformed with, every built hope after all these years would crumble to dust. Because history haven't been kind to some beings in matters of love.

And it wasn't a problem of your own body, gods forbid. It was because of who you loved - what he was.

Christopher Bang - your Chris, your Bangchan, the love of your life - was a werewolf, coming from a secular pure-blood family, to top. It didn't bother you the kind your boyfriend, actually was even something you've pointed out as a joke for him being from Australia, a country that withheld the most dangerous animals in the whole world.

The only thing that was surprising was the incompatibility of genes between his kind and your simple, feeble human species. Of course, there was a reason for that, which when you first decided to go steady and live together, he made sure to explain, in a way giving you option to back up from the whole relationship. So silly of him. What mattered that humans had, over the centuries, developed their genes in a way that made it almost impossible to be mated with other species that not their own? You loved him, anything else was manageable. If you or him wanted kids in the future you could always adopt, was it a little were-baby or a human one. Or both.

But it was weird. You had an irregular cycle naturally but didn't really worry about that - for obvious reasons - and maintained a really healthy sexual life with your mate, for his instincts of breeding you couldn't be suppressed, and you wouldn't want them to for the world. The weird thing is that you haven't been late for this long ever. It's been four months already and not a sign of blood.

At first you didn't pay any mind, only sighing at the thought of the cramps that would come once your period decided to show up - the longer it took, the worse they were - but no more of that crossed your mind. But after the third month, it started worrying you, and you went to the doctor but nothing was wrong with you, apparently.

One day, you started piecing some things together. Christopher had been away for around two months - three actually, with a little break he took to see you for anniversary - and you were already late for close to a month at that time. You had sexual relations as usual and, as always, he had 'impregnated' you, just for the sake of his instincts, nesting with you afterwards. The memory made you smile sweetly, even if you felt a blush creeping up your neck at the replay of that afternoon in your mind.

Either way, it was impossible. Wasn't it?

So there you sat atop of the toilet, staring at the former white strip of paper you had peed on almost with sarcasm, watching as it turned a hit pink shade gradually, eyes widening at the same rate. Still, you couldn't believe it.

A ping echoed through the bathroom and in the back of your mind you recalled the date, your birthday, and also the date that your boyfriend would be arriving from work, for a well-deserved break. And you weren't exactly sure of how to breathe, what to say act. Not wanting to believe a blessing but desperately wanting to be proved wrong, for once.

---

When Chris arrived home, it was quiet. Of course, he could clearly feel your presence in the house - probably napping - and smiled to himself while placing the bag on the floor, right behind the door. "I'm home," he whispered to himself, chucking his shoes off.

It wasn't till he reached the corridor, stripping off his coat that he smelled it. The scents of jasmine, orange and... Something else, a sweetness he couldn't quite place filled his nostrils and made him halt, right in front of the bathroom door. Whatever you were planning, Chris was already enjoying it a lot.

"Take off everything before entering," your voice instructed as his fingers barely touched the door, bringing a shudder through his whole body. Not hesitating he practically tore his clothes off, excitement coursing through his body heating immediately like a fever, then pushing the door open at once, eyes zeroing on your figure, sitting inside the tub in your birthday suit, water the only cover around your body. As he breathe in again the scents, it almost made him dizzy, that unknown particular tang stirring something inside of him.

"Hi handsome," you smiled at him, and his heart leaped, grin widening and shoulders relaxing, thought his gaze grew hungrier at the sight of your bare skin. "Are you going to stand there the whole night or come bathe with me?"

And that prompted him to move with a small grunt, seeing the glint in your eyes as the now full-standing need hit his navel with every step. But that could wait, he needed to feel you in his arms again, it had been so long. Too long.

"How I've missed that smart mouth," he said, dipping into the warm water right in front of you, hands immediately reaching for your sides and pulling you towards his body, happy with how your legs instantly wrapped around his waist, skin meeting skin almost merging together, lips connecting with yearning after a chuckle had escaped you at his response.

And then you was everything he could taste, everything he wanted to drink, to drown in, all he could feel. Your hands on his body were soothing, fingers mapping territory already claimed, grounding themselves back into their place. It was you, but... This time it was more, for some reason. He knew you inside out and was deeply familiar with all your scents, capable of recognizing your presence a mile away. And it was present, but had something that made his nose itch a little. Wasn't a threatening scent, just... Different. Nothing bad, his gut told him, just unknown. Later on he'd dwell on it further, now he had a different task in mind, and from the way you were teasing him, hands roaming downwards often, you too were focused on something more interesting.

Carefully, you were lifted from the bath and carried to the bedroom, not minding the wet state of your bodies as he laid you on the bed, hovering over you with adoring eyes roaming your figure. It always made you flush, just at if it was the first time, the first encounter.

"Hi," Chris once again smiled, your heart stuttering at the sight of his beautiful face, knowing you were the cause of the expression. "Happy birthday, beautiful."

At that he leaned, pressing his lips back to yours rather briefly, before nuzzling his way to your neck and downwards, tongue laving at you mating scar, nose pressed, inhaling deeply and a low, pleased rumbling inside his chest that somehow only made the inside of your thighs damper. Your eyes fluttered close when one of his hands that supported his weight at either side of you went to tease your chest, fingertips running as light as a feather over a nipple and coaxing a hum from you and a sniffle from Chris, still amazed at how he affected you.

Eyes trained on you he kept silently tasting you, pushing your body towards madness and reveling on your noises, almost torturing himself on the process.

"Chris, I need you... Please-" your breath hitched as finally, his fingers reached the scorching heat between your legs, parting them to give him better access and instantly intoxicating Chris with your needy scent, vision almost blackening and mouth salivating. He too, needed to be sheathed inside your warmth, but not yet. There was a process to avoid hurting you with his girth, as it had been a while since you two were together and barely could fit three fingers inside your wetness.

"Shh love, I know. I too need you terribly, but I don't want to hurt you, babygi-" He felt choked up as he, after retracting his fingers from you, to pop them in his mouth, the instinct in him needing to taste you to know if you were fertile. You always though it was hot and had your eyes wide open to look at the scene, so witnessed the reaction he had, brow furrowing with worry.

"W-what's wrong, Chan?" You tried to ask, voice practically lost and hoarse, hearing a growl starting at his chest, eyes closed and body tense. He'd never growled at you, certainly not in the bedroom, so the behavior was preoccupying to say the least.

At the other hand, Chris was trying to deal with the unknown, at first the scent and then the taste, anxious enough to break into a low growl right in front of you. He couldn't ignore that change anymore. But what was it? It wasn't another male, completely out of the question - you both loved each other to bits - but somehow it was another being.

Another... Being?

"Christopher Bang what is going on?!" You were starting to get annoyed at his lack of response, getting up to your knees to cup his face and maybe snap him out of the trance he found himself in. "Chris-"

"...nant?" All of a sudden Chan stopped growling, choking up half a word that somehow you were able to figure, eyes meeting yours with such intensity and emotion that it felt like a punch to the gut.

"Say it again?" Still you insisted, wanting to hear the truth from the only one that could give you that assurance, that could be sure there was a life growing inside of you.

"You're..." Chris breathed out shakily, as scared to speak as you were to hear it, a rare whimpering undertone to his voice that broke your heart, but made you understand instantly how emotional that made him. "You're pregnant, love. With my pup." Chris broke the news with a cracking voice and teary eyes, arms snaking around your waist to pull you flush to his body, the inferno that was his skin feeling soothing against yours, body relaxing instantly.

"Are you sure, Chan? Is it really true?" You dared to ask, breathless as you hugged him back tighter. While nuzzling your neck he nodded, giving the sensitive skin a peck that made you hum, happy and calm.

"But I," and he had to lean back and look at you, lustful glint back on his deep brown eyes. "I wanna make sure... That you're full of me," Softly, he pushed your body back down to the mattress as you chuckled, predicting that as much. You wanted too, to be sure you were positively pregnant.

"Then by all means, Chan... Knot me." You gave him the push needed to start moving again, palms previously holding your hips sliding further down to knead plumper flesh, the previous worry of stretching you out beforehand flying off the window as you teasingly ground up to his crotch, prompting a pleased hum and a quick pump just to coat himself further with both your juices and lining to yearning entrance, sluggish movements covering for the eagerness you could see stamped on his face.

"You know better than to fuck- Than to say those things to me babygirl," with one push he entered your heat at last, the pain of the stretch always there and present, but something you secretly loved so much it took your breath away, eyes rolling back as he moved, pounding your insides slow and deep. "I'll fuck so many more babies into you Y/N, do you want it?"

"Yes Chris- I want you to keep fucking pups into me," you breathed out, feeling his fingers sink on your butt cheeks as the words sank in. It was so much more than some fetish coming true, it was almost a miracle. Something he had inwardly wished to come true, even if settled with the knowledge that it would probably never be achieved. But the chances weren't zero, as it turned out.

Hips snapping, Chris drew out a loud groan from you as he started a faster pace, your walls clamping around him claiming his seed and from the way the was wound up, it wouldn't take so long.

"Fuck- I c-can't wait to see you so round and plump with our ch-children," you noticed that it was starting to get hard for Chris to speak, the stutter of his voice a clear telltale that he was about to spill at any second, and you probably never wanted his knot so much in your whole life.

"Then - ah! - cum and p-plug your mate... your mmh b-bitch," his whole body shuddered at your words, a grunting mixed with a moan bouncing off the walls as he pushed himself one last time deeply inside of you, hitting that one spot inside so perfectly that it made you see stars the next second, growing orgasm released just like that, in waves of heat that made you blind. Chris, further coaxed by your orgasm, couldn't help the howl that left him while cumming, so hard his whole body shook.

As his knot started to swell, doing exactly its work of plugging you so none of his seed escaped, Chris maneuvered your body from underneath to on top of him, with the pretense of serving as a pillow for you, as always. But even feeling weak, you weren't having it and, at the mere feeling of shrinking you sat up, grinding down to Bang, trying to get him ready for the next round.

"Whoa, I'm still a little sensitive love, just wait a little bit-" you pressed a finger to his lips, dealing with your own sensitivity, but used to the feeling already.

"Weren't you the one wanting to make sure I was full of your pups?" A twitch inside of you made you grin, and you watched his face blushing slightly, grinding again. "Besides, it's time you pay for all those times you fucked orgasm after orgasm out of me."

Biting his lip to stifle a whimper, Chris grinned at you. "Oh but that's just because my mate loves it, right?"

You snickered, leaning to quickly peck his lips. "Yes, and I'll make sure you love it, too."

___________________

masterlist

[burnedbyshoto]

Sero Hanta  - Alphabet HC’s

a/n: so I kinda said fuck my schedule for this event... sorry BAHAHAHAHa

A = Affection (How affectionate are they with an s/o?)

Sero is the kinda guy who sees pda as not pda. He is affectionate but never in a drowning way. His arms will definitely be around your shoulders or waist at all times, he may even kiss you here and there. But he’s not extreme.

B = Breath (What could their s/o do to take their breath away?)

Saying that he’s your favorite pro-hero. HE’S A SOFT MAN AND JUST HEARING THOSE FEW WORDS FROM YOU MAKES HIM MELT EVERY TIME.

C = Cuddling (Do they cuddle? If they do, how and when do they cuddle?)

Sero is a little fucking spoon. He likes being held by you, it’s safe and comforting!!!! He will cuddle you especially when the two of you are hanging out. He’s not afraid of being the little spoon and if you’re hanging out with bakusquad best believe he’ll curl up onto you

D = Dream (What do they dream of doing with their s/o?)

Sero is a simple guy. He has a simple dream. Being adept enough to carry you within his arms as he swings through the city. 

E = Effort (How much effort do they put into a relationship?)

SO. MUCH. EFFORT. You have an issue with him? He’ll do all that he can to make sure it’s fixed if it’s fixable. He’s a laid back guy, but it revolves you??? There’s a fire lit under his ass.

F = Fear (What do they do if their s/o is scared? How do they handle it?)

Wraps you up in his arms. The only time where he becomes super serious, he’ll whisper reaffirming words into your ears, sweet nothings as he keeps you wrapped up. Will even roll the two of you up in tape to make you laugh. 

G = Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they want a gift in return?)

Sero is the kind of boyfriend who brings you on theme gifts. Whether that be what fits his own aesthetics or fits your aesthetics, he will bring you something. You have the most out of place blanket from him, but you love it! He never expects presents in return and it always makes him tear up when you return one back.

H = Hugs (Do they hug their s/o? How often?)

Oh yeah, if sero doesn’t hug you at least twenty times in a day, call 911, it’s an imposter. He likes the hugs where he can tuck his face into your neck, even if you’re waaay shorter than him.

I = Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?)

He is a pretty romantic guy when he tries. Unfortunately, sero does lead a busy lifestyle so the dates he prepares don’t seem romantic, but you love it even though he’s super embarrassed. In fact, for your one year anniversary he will plan out your dream date.

J = Jealous (Do they get jealous? How do they act when jealous?)

Sero is a jealous kinda guy. he won’t ever act like it and will often pretend that he isnt. he does not hesitate to walk over to where you are and immediately become hyper attached. mouth on neck, hands on waist typa guy.

K = Kiss (Are they a good kisser? Do they like to kiss? How often do they try to kiss you?)

Sero is a stiff kisser. He really tries to relax, but he just gets so flustered by you he’s stiff. His kisses are stiff yet soft and you always bring him in for more. You kiss him way more than he kisses you, but that’s because he’s shy.

L = Love (When do they say they love you? How often do they say it? Do they prefer to say or show it?)

He says ‘i love you’ by accident. He gets back to your house one night exhausted from a long day at patrol, you cater to what he needs and sink into the bed with him. Sero’s exhausted body folding into yours, and he says it as he drifts off to sleep, he prefers saying it over showing it, and will say it daily. 

M = Marriage (Do they want to get married? If so, what kind of ceremony?)

He wants and needs to marry you! The ceremony would be big like super unintentionally, the two of you count the guest list and are like… what the fuck?!

N = Night out (What type of dates do they like to go on? How often do they like to go on them?)

Sero is a movie and dinner kinda guy. But the movie and dinner don’t happen in a movie theater and restaurant often. He’ll take you to rooftops, to parks, anywhere he can find a moment to be alone with you and will show off the food he (with bakugou’s help) made.

O = Out of the Ordinary (What’s something they don’t normally do with/for their s/o?)

Won’t do a couple costumes with you. Not that he wouldn’t but sero takes halloween super seriously, and your pb&j idea is too lame for his basically cosplay level costume.

P = Playful (Are they playful in a relationship? If so, how do they play around/mess with their s/o?)

He is so playful!!!! He is the type to do prank wars on you that blow up on social media! He enjoys pranks that make you chuck whatever is nearby you and loves the pranks that make you smile softly and jump into his arms. He is a man of taste

Q = Questions (Do they ask their s/o their opinion on things? Do they share theirs?)

Your opinion on things is super important to him! From the smallest of things to wondering if pluto is a planet, he will always ask. He will always give his own opinion as well because his thoughts deserve to be heard as well.

R = Random (How spontaneous is their relationship? Do they do things on the spot or plan ahead?)

When sero plans things out you can never guess what it is. He once took you on a weekend getaway to visit pink sand beaches! When he does things on the spot it’s super spontaneous because it’s the same thing everytime. Pizza, movies, kisses, and a gift. Neither one is bad.

S = Sleep (How do they sleep with their s/o?)

Sero is a restless sleeper, so he starts off the night laying next to you, and will wake up with you on his lap. No one knows how. 

T = Trust (How much do they trust their s/o?)

Sero TRUSTS YOU WITH HIS LIFE!!!!!! If he were to pick between a killing pill and a safe pill, he’s pick whichever one you choose even though it has to do with luck. 

U = Unique (What makes them unique as an s/o?)

He looks at the tiniest detail! You’ve always assumed that sero wasn’t one to even notice half of the things you would’ve noticed. He’ll be like “yeah, i knew you weren’t okay because you raised you left eyebrow when you smiled when it’s usually your right!” and you’ll be like “I DO WHAT?!?!??!”

V = Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

Sero is very vulnerable pretty quickly. He’s going to be broken and open to you even before you two start dating, so you know whats happening even before anything official happens. He just goes blank, his eyes glaze over as he stares at one thing until he breaks down and cries as he tells you what’s wrong.

W = Wild Card (Get a random domestic headcanon of the character of your choice)

The two of you have definitely made a hammock out of his tape before. It went terribly and required your friends to come save you two but it was so worth the laughter and the joy that came with it.

X = X-Ray (What would they do if their s/o got injured?)

Your injured? So is Sero! He will do anything and everything for you! He will even dress up as a butler just to further the fact that he’s gonna do whatever you need.

Y = Yuck (Do they have any pet peeves about their s/o? Are there any habits that might bother their s/o?)

Sero is not one with many pet peeves! Just don’t be rude to him or his friends and you’re all good.

Z = Zeal (Are they passionate as an s/o? Do they want or like passion?)

He’s a passionate person but is sometimes almost embarrassed to express the passion. But everytime without fail the passion rushes out of him and he’s always grateful for it.

NSFW (below the cut):

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Sero can barely remember his own name after sex. He’s gonna just stare at you for a solid three minutes before laughing and falling out of bed. He’ll then go clean you up all while chuckling because wow you’re amazing.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

HIS ARMS ARE HIS FAVORITE BODY PART!!!! His arms are so fucking toned and strong and he loves seeing your fingers rake down his arms as he fucks you so good. And on you??? Sero is an ass man. Fuck does he love squeezing and manipulating the soft flesh within his fingers and your resulting moans.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

His cum is pretty translucent and sticky. It’s not that thick, pretty thin, but it comes flying out every time. Loves seeing it seep out of your cunt when he’s done with you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He really got turned on that one night where you dommed him and used his tape on him. There was something so fucking hot seeing you use his tape to have your way with him.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He is actually not that experienced before you! He’s a good guy, but he was never truly desperate for a relationship. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, and it’s a good learning process for the two of you. 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He loves fucking you against a wall. Again with his arms on hyperfocus, he loves seeing you crumbling into a mess as he has his way with you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Sero can be a total goofball during sex, he enjoys having witty battles with you and hearing your voice break as he slams against your g-spot. Serious sex is a thing with him, and it kinda steals your breath away after time. 

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

The carpet matches the drapes. His pubes are in fact trimmed but the first time it was just a big ol mess. They are now pretty much neat and at one point he was completely bare.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Just because he’s goofing off, doesn’t mean he’s not intimate. He will still make the setting romantic and safe, and even though he’s making you focus on things other than the feeling of his dick in your pussy it feels so intimate and loving. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Sero masturbates so much still LMAO. he loves sending you videos if you want them because dear god he has one thing on his mind when he does it, you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Bondage, he loves seeing you tied up and he too loves being tied up. Degradation, he loves when you talk dirty to him it’s so pleasing. Role play, when you dress up as his favorite manga characters… he fucking busts a phat nut.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His most favorite place to fuck you is in an unsuspecting alleyway as he quite literally snatches you off the street and has his way with you in his hero costume!!!!

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

When he comes home and you’re waiting patiently waiting for him with his shirt on and lingerie underneath. He’s quite literally fallen over in his eagerness to get to you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Will not hit you during sex. Will spank but if you want it harder than how he is giving it to you, he will literally stop. He doesn’t like it. His major turn off is having a ball gag in his mouth. He doesn’t like the feeling of it and his drive dies on the spot.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He feels bad, but he prefers receiving it more. Doesn’t matter how skilled you are, it’s just so fucking hot seeing your mouth around his cock. He is actually quite good at giving oral but would prefer receiving any day.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

A pretty fast guy. He is someone known for his speed and swiftness, and well honey, he fucks you at a good fucking pace and his motions are always clean.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Super into quickies. Loves public sex but if you’re not that into it, he’ll restrain from it… but… wall sex in an alleyway.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Super into entertaining. Y’all can go through a kink list in a week and will rule out what you didn’t like and try incorporating what you did like more in the future.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Sero can last at max four rounds, but by round four he’s super sloppy. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He owns a fair share of toys that are used for the both of you, depending on who’s domming.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sero loves to fucking tease you, and he’s pretty damn good at it. He will be fucking you at such a slow yet swift pace, his thrusts are teasing promises as he makes sure you can’t retaliate against him. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s V E R Y vocal, a reason why he hates the gag. It just makes him choke. He thinks words are the easiest and best ways to express that he fucking loves what you just did to him, so he’s not going to stop.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

The one night you were wearing the sexy version of his costume as a roleplay thing literally ruined his costume for him, in a good way, forever. Now whenever he looks at himself he sees the slutty version you wore as you had him trapped on a wall as you asked if he needed saving.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Sero is a big guy. Around eight inches but he doesn’t have that big of a girth, and easily fits in your hand. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He has a high sex drive, you just make him so fucking horny sometimes and he is never one to deny you.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Will knock out as soon as you wrap him in your arms, so if you’re expecting aftercare, do not touch him until after he’s done.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 11)

“How’d things go last night?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? How can you not know?”

“I don’t really have any other dates that I can compare it to, Hajime.”

“Well did he make you laugh and smile?”

“He did.” But he also reminded her of just why she doesn’t particularly deserve to laugh and smile. She wonders if Hajime would reprimand her for turning his son down. Even if he wouldn’t, she isn’t sure that she should. She can’t imagine that there is a line of people waiting to shower her with affection. She is almost certain that she wouldn’t take well to it anyhow. She isn’t the sort for hugs and kisses and tender touches. It is quite hard to imagine herself on the receiving end of it. She can already picture her cheeks growing red and she loathes the very idea of being left a flustered mess.

“But?” Hajime prompts.

She shrugs and slaps her hands against her thighs. “But then he told me about how his wife died. That kind of ruins the mood, wouldn’t you say?”

Hajime rolls his eyes, “sounds like Seukhyun. He doesn’t exactly know how to choose dinner conversations. I’d wager that he’s just about as...socially confused as you are.”

“Is that how Atsu’s mother died? Did those soldiers kill her too?”

He glances into the other room where Atsu leaps off of his bed with Bao, The Magnificent Mole in hand. He drops the stuffed badger-mole into Caihong’s lap. “I thought that his name was Mud Muncher!” The girl declares. Satisfied that the boy is fully engrossed, Hajime turns back to her. “No. She was killed by the Fire Nation. After our own soldiers left they told the enemy soldiers exactly where to find us. I told Atsu that she just got sick…”

“Have you ever met a good soldier, Hajime?”

“Personally, no.” He replies. “But I’m sure that there are some out there.”

Azula responds with a bitter sniff.

“You don’t think so?”

“I don’t. They fight for what they think is best and then they find out that, that thing is actually the worst. And then they realize that they are monsters. Of course, most of them knew it all along. Nobody joins the military unless they want to kill someone.”

“Do you…” he looks into the other room. Atsu has fastened one of Caihong’s dolls to Bao. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

She nods her head towards the children.

“Atsu, Caihong!” They look up. “Rikka and I are going for a quick walk, stay out of trouble or I’ll go right to old man Hajime!”

“Don’t worry dad, Bao the Magnificent Mole has Avatar powers, he can defend the whole house from evil Fire Lord Bonsai!”

“Do you mean, Ozai?” Azula asks.

He shakes his head, “nope, I mean Bonsai! Fire Lord Bonsai is an evil bonsai tree that can talk and its leaves are on fire--except the fire is purple---and Avatar Mao is the world’s last hope because…” he sucks in a deep breath, “...because if he doesn’t stop Bonsai then Bonsai will use Roku’s comet to destroy the lion-turtle!”

“Also Ba Sing Se, Bonsai is going to burn Ba Sing Se if Mao can’t stop him.” Caihong adds.

Azula nods. “If you say so.”

“And! And! And also Fire Lord Bonsai has a son that’s a cabbage named Leaf and he’s the prince.” He holds up a leaf, “this is…”

“Leaf?” Hajime guesses.

“Mmmhmm!”

“Come on, Hajime.” She tugs at the man’s arm before Atsu can introduce any other offensive caricatures.

“You and Cai behave.” He waits for the children to nod before following Azula outside. “We were saying…”

“There are no good soldiers Hajime. It doesn’t matter what side of the war they are on. The winning side simply looks less evil because they are painted well. But they’re all…”

“You were a soldier, weren’t you?”  Azula swallows. She feels his hand cup around her own. “Let’s walk by the riverside, it’s quieter there.”

He doesn’t speak to her again until they come to a stop on a rickety bridge. “I know that you like being right but I disagree with you. Sure, there are people who join the war over power and bloodlust but some people join the military because they have no choice. Some folks need money, some were forced into it, and some want to protect loved ones. What was your reason?”

Azula thinks for a moment. It certainly wasn’t a matter of money and really she had no one to protect. She didn’t feel particularly forced, she’d rather enjoyed it and she thinks that she would enjoy it still--to feel the thrill of a conquest, a rush of adrenaline, a feeling of worth and accomplishment. “Power.”

“Power?” Hajime asks.

She nods. “I don’t know why you are surprised.”

He seems to study her for a long time. “Why did you want power?”

She furrows her brows.

“I’ve come to observe that most people who want power want it because they feel weak.”

But she had, had all of the power in the world in riches and in bending.

“So why did you want it?”

“I…” She looks off. Off to where the river leads, curling into a tangle of pine. Catkins and tallgrasses bob in the breeze. And yet, even with all of this clarity, she can’t seem to think of a reason why she would have wanted more power. She supposes that, that is just it; she never wanted it for herself, she wanted it so that she could turn it over to her father.

“I think that soldiers are a bit different in the Fire Nation. It seems like, over there, some people were raised on war and never knew any different.” He pauses to chuck a stone into the river. It lands with a plop and stirred up ringlets on the surface. A dragonfly launches itself out of the grasses. “I guess it isn’t so different in the Earth Kingdom. They make it sound glorious, and good and so you start to think that it is…”

Azula stares at the backs of her hands, feels the breeze fluttering her hair against her neck.

“I don’t think that you wanted power, usually people can say exactly why they want it.”

“To give it to my father.”

He nods. “So...love then?”

“What?”

“You wanted power so that you could give it to someone you loved? He was too weak to get it for himself so…”

“He wasn’t weak. He was the most powerful man I knew. He wanted more of it so I was going to get it for him.”

“Okay, he wasn’t weak.” Hajime nods. He is quiet for the longest time. And several times he opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it once more as if thinking better of doing so. She watches a count of six birds swoop down to take drinks before he finally says, “It sounds like you were one of the people who was raised on war. I don’t think that a good father would want his daughter to go to war for him.”

“My father was a good father.” Her stomach sinks even as she says it. He was such a good father that he left her behind. Strangely that probably was the best thing that he could have done for her. It weighs on her so heavily that she finds herself practically slumping over the bridge.

“You didn’t go to war for power. You went to war for love, to show it or to earn it. Or maybe both.”

Love…

He cups his hand over hers. “Maybe it led to bad things but at least you can say that you had one of the best reasons to become a soldier.”

If only that was it. If only that was the whole truth. If only glory and fear had no part of why she’d done so. If only she had just been a simple soldier. “I’m not what you think I am.”

He chuckles. “Who says that I’ve leapt to any conclusions about you?”

“It isn’t a matter of saying it, it’s a matter of implying.”

“I don’t have any solid ideas of who you are but I know what you aren’t.”

“Oh?”

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know that you’re not a bad person, Rikka.”

Rikka is not a bad person. He can’t soundly say the same for Azula. She opens her mouth and it very nearly comes out. She very nearly tells him just who he is dealing with.

“The people in this village only say good things about you. A lot of them are more open to firebenders because of you. Maybe you think that you’re a bad person, but you’re not.” His hand slides off her hers. “We should probably check on Atsu and Caihong.”

She nods. “Yes, that would be a good idea.”

That day she learns that she might not be a monster.

.oOo.

She hates to admit it but she likes Sokka’s laugh. It isn’t charming. It isn’t elegant. It isn’t a pleasant sound, he snorts. But it is genuine, pure, and unapologetic happiness. The sort of laugh she hasn’t heard since listening in on Atsu and Caihong’s play. She holds the Bao against her stomach, absently stroking his head as she waits for Sokka to finish laughing.

“So you’re telling me that this Atsu kid sees me as a boomerang and he thinks that you’re a…”

“The color blue.” She nods. “Anything that he can find that is blue. He had bits and pieces of information but he had it all mixed up and so instead of blue fire, Fire Lord Bonsai’s daughter is just blue. Anything blue.”

“And ‘Roku’s’ comet was a…”

“Flaming cabbage sent by a very vengeful merchant, yes.”

“Oh man, that kid’s a genius. He outta write for the Ember Island players.” He wipes a tear from his eyes. “Maybe you can introduce me to him one day.”

She squeezes the badger-mole and shakes her head. She is glad that his eyes are still closed with laughter. She campuses herself before he looks up.

“Sorry, I know that I promised not to ask any questions after your story but I really just needed some clarification.”

“Those questions were superficial, I didn’t mind answering them. Your turn.”

“Alright, so do you want to hear about the time when we took Zuko to the Water Tribes for some penguin sledding and he got swarmed by them or…”

“Yes. I want to hear that one.”

“Or…”

“I want to hear the Zuko penguin story.” Azula says firmly.

.oOo.

He supposes that he will have to save the, Zuko stuck in a coconut tree for a day when she isn’t so stubbornly refusing the possibility of a funnier Zuko mishap story. She stares at him expectantly, drumming her fingers upon the badger-mole.

“So it was an anniversary present from me to Suki. I decided that it would be fun to take her to the tribes because she always wanted to see a penguin in person. It was great we got all snuggly and cozy, we had these really warm fur blankets and this fire going. There was a blizzard outside so Katara and Zuko and the others were stuck with Hakoda at Bato’s place. Suki and I had some alone time.” He winks. “She pecked me on the cheek and...”

“Spare me the details, Sokka. The only pecking that I would like to hear about involves Zuzu and penguins.”

He flushes. “Right, well after Suki and I got our alone time we decided to take a group trip to the penguin caves. Aang wanted to go penguin sledding again, he said that he could beat Zuko down the hillside. And you know how Zuko gets, ‘I’m going to beat the Avatar in a penguin race, for honor!’ So he went after the largest penguin. Those things are bigger than you think!”

Azula takes a sip of tea, “are they now?”

He nods. “Pretty sure there was one that is bigger than you. I guess that’s not saying much because…”

She fixes him with a deadpan stare and a quirked brow.

“Because...those penguins are massive, not because you’re really small.” He hears her inhale through her nose and snickers. “So Zuko finds the largest penguin that he could find and just leaps on. But that penguin was a mother and it was meal time so all of the chicks just waddle on up but Zuko is in the way. I think that they thought that he was their mother because they were trying to get food from him.”

“Did they get it?”

Sokka shakes his head. “Not from Zuko. Katara had to run all the way back to the village to get buckets of krill to lure them off of Zuko. He was picking feathers out of his hair for days.”

“That does sound like Zuzu. But usually it’s the turtle-ducks.” She gives a one armed shrug. “I guess that he has an affinity for creatures with beaks.”

“Thanks for sharing the badger-mole story.”  

She toys with the sash of her nightgown. “I’m...glad that you enjoyed it.”

He grins, though it isn’t particularly the story that he enjoyed--granted her certainly did enjoy that well enough--what he enjoyed was hearing it from her. Was seeing the soft smile on her lips. Was noticing and observing the way her eyes seemed to light up when she made mention of the boy. It was comforting. Comforting and reassuring somehow.

“Does it make you feel better?” He asks.

She tilts her head.

“To talk about moments that made you happy.”

She works a muscle in her jaw, “I suppose that it helps a little, yes.”  

“Maybe all of us can get together and…”

“No.” Azula murmurs. “Not yet. I don’t want to share these things with Zuzu yet, he’ll be...overbearing. TyLee gets too sappy and Mai isn’t interested in hearing me go on about some kid.”

“He’s not just some kid.” Sokka says immediately. “I can tell.” Azula tenses and he lifts his hands. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking questions. But it isn’t a bad thing, you know, to show people that you’ve got feelings and that you care about other people.”

She reclines in the chair, props her head against her arm and drapes the other over her belly. She seems to stare off at nothing at all. “Perhaps.”

“Think about it!” He insists. “Servants and guards have been approaching you more. They aren’t scared of you. I know that Mai and TyLee say that you have a thing for being all scary and intimidating but you don’t need to be anymore because…”

“The war has been over for years.” Her eyes don’t leave that distant spot, wherever it is. “I know.”

.oOo.

“Then why do you still have so many walls up?”

Because she is afraid.

“If you think that we won’t like you for being yourself, it’s not true. We have met all sorts of weirdos that we love. Like those swamp guys, you met them! They’re weird and we like them!”

“The more you talk the deeper you dig.” She rolls her eyes. But he isn’t entirely off in his assumptions.

“You took a lot of walls down for me today,” he continues. “Believe it or not, I liked it. I liked the little glimpse that I saw.”

Her tummy flutters. “Yes well I’m not ready for that.”

“Not ready to let people know that you’re a human being?”

Not ready to let people see her, all of her. Not ready for them to get attached to her and care for her.  She isn’t even ready for the possibility. She certainly isn’t ready to let people love her. Not the way Hajime did. Cherishable or not she isn’t ready to feel again what Hajime had made her feel. Not with someone who isn’t Hajime.  

[parkmuse]

Cat Got Your Tongue Pt. 1 (M)

Word Count: 5,470 (Reposted) (Wonhopes Masterlist)

Taco ain’t your innocent kitty no more.

cr.

“Come on Y/N, you can’t stay holed up in your apartment. Let’s go out and have fun!”

Eunji jumps onto you, rattling the bed frame as she whips the sheets off of you.

“Don’t wanna,” You groan.

“You can’t be like this forever, Y/N.”

You groan again, bringing the bed sheets back up to cover your face. “Yes I can. Just let me be, I want to lay here like a potato for the next 40 years. Come visit me every day to put food next to me.”

“Oh my god you’re so dramatic. Namjoon was a jackass, okay? And fuck Yoona too! You’re better off without the both of them.” She pats the top of your head that isn’t wrapped under the sheets.

You can’t help but feel like this. Your boyfriend of two years along with your best friend since elementary were hooking up behind your back, and you caught them red handed in your previously shared apartment with your loving boyfriend. You immediately kicked them out, telling them to never show their faces again there and took any cherished memories you’ve had with them, dumping them in the trash. One of the things you couldn’t help but keep was the chain around your neck, holding the ring Namjoon gave to you on your second anniversary. You didn’t have the heart to toss it, still pathetically leaving it around your neck in hopes that this whole scenario was just all a dream.

“You know, I heard they’re having 50% off your favorite hot cocoa at the mall~”

You peek your head from under the covers, “50% off?”

“Yes, and I’ll even pay for you.”

She knows you can’t turn away free food, especially if it’s your favorite drink. You spring from the bed and run to your wardrobe. “Okay you got a deal. Give me 5.”

-

Once you and Eunji made your way to the outdoor mall, you instantly regretted it. Hundreds of couples swarmed the area, going on dates to see the massive Christmas tree and have a romantic walk through the winter wonderland. Thousands of lights twinkled from above, and the snow that fell made it look even more beautiful.

You and Namjoon had planned to go here together this week. You two were supposed to stop by the café with him getting you a hot chocolate and a cappuccino for himself. Afterwards, you were going to walk around candy cane lane and end at the big Christmas tree, snuggling into each other for warmth as you admire the lights.

Seeing all the couples that were doing what you were supposed to do with him made you feel sick and even more depressed.

“I don’t think this was a good idea after all Eunji,” You groan. “I think I just want to go back home.” You start turning away but she locks her arm into yours.

“No! We just got here! Come on Y/N, you’ve been home all week. We’ve come this far, the café is right there!”

You sigh. “All these cheesy couples are making me nauseous.”

She turns to whisper in your ear, “I’ll be your boyfriend.”

You smack her arm. “As much as you persuade me with food I don’t think this relationship would work out, I like dick too much.”

She laughs aloud, “How do you know I don’t have one?”

“Did you just admit to me that you have a dick?”

“Okay sorry to burst your bubble because I don’t. But enough dick talk we have to hurry or the line will get longer!” She says, dragging you to the entrance of the café.

After grabbing your drinks you set outside to wander around the center of the mall, beautifully decorated with warm holiday colors. The tree had to be at least 50 ft tall or so, crimson ribbons cascading down along its sides with gold and silver ornaments hanging throughout. On top of that was the beautiful brightly lit star to complete it.

You and Namjoon were supposed to put up your tree this weekend. Placing the star on top was your favorite part-

“Y/N, if you keep moping like that I’m going to punch your boob.”

“Okay, okay!” You say, covering up your chest. “I know I should be angry and forget about it all but I can’t help but still feel this way. It was two whole years of being together after all. And Yoona was my best friend my whole life.” You sigh and take a sip of your drink, watching as a couple kisses under the same mistletoe you and Namjoon would every year.

You turn back to her. “I really appreciate you trying to make me feel better, I really do. But I think I just want to go home for today.” You give her a faint smile and pat her shoulder.

Eunji frowns, then reluctantly starts following you back to the car.

You’re almost out and away from all the hoard of couples making their way to go and see the tree when Eunji pulls you back all of a sudden.

“Y/N, let’s just do this one thing first and then I promise I’ll take you home.”

You look at her confused, “What?”

She points to the side, where you see a little fenced village covered in fake snow and towers of presents. “Let’s go see Santa!”

You frown. “I’d rather not, I don’t want to sit on some perv’s lap,” you say as you tug your arm away. She grabs ahold of it again, tugging you toward that direction.

“Just do it! Do it for me? Please? Come on please please pleasepleaseplease-“

“Okay! If you shut up and take me home right after,” You huff.

Eunji squeals in delight, locking her arms onto yours again and dashes towards Santa’s village.

-

The inside was a lot cuter than you expected it to be. There were reindeer tracks on the ground, cookies and milk out for Santa, and “elves” around the area spreading Christmas joy. At the very end, Santa was on his candy cane throne with an ecstatic child on his lap, blabbering every little thing he wanted for Christmas. Santa was as jolly as he should be, telling the kid how if he stays on the nice list he’ll definitely get what he wants.

After taking a picture with the child, the kid ran back off to his mom.

“Ho ho ho! Okay, who’s next?” The wannabe Santa yells aloud.

“She’s next!” Eunji yells, pointing at you and pushing you in his direction.

“Eunji, I don’t want-“

“Okay Miss! Come over here with your Wishlist!”

At this point you couldn’t really reject, especially with all these people already staring at you. You sigh and reluctantly make your way over to him.

You were definitely not going to sit on his lap because you were a grown woman and that would have just been really weird, so you decided to just sit on the chair right beside his.

“What’s your name young lady?”

“Y/N,” You politely smile to him.

“What a pretty name! And Ms. Y/N, what would you like for Christmas?”

Namjoon.

You shook your head. What were you thinking? You weren’t going to say that to him. What other thing did you want for Christmas so you can get this over with?

“Nothing in particular…”

“She wants a boyfriend!” Eunji yells from the side.

You shot her a death glare, then she giggles and winks at you.

“Well Ms. Y/N, is that what you really wish for?”

You look at him with a blank stare, and end up shrugging. “I think I’m tired of boys.”

Santa lets out a hearty laugh, then pats you on the shoulder.

“You know Ms. Y/N, love is an adventure. You’ll fall in love, and you’ll fall out of love. You’ll cry, you’ll be angry, happy, you’ll feel every emotion you could possibly ever think of in every bit of your beautiful being. Sometimes, we have to go through a few obstacles before we find it.”

He leans over with his hand covering his mouth to the side. “Want in on a little secret?”

You look at him, curious as to what he was talking about.

“I, Santa Claus, can help make your wish come true. I remember your name on my nice list Ms. Y/N. And you look like a kind, selfless young lady and I am sure you will find love very soon.” He points to you. “But I need your help. If you really really believe in your wish, it’ll definitely come true.”

You look at him, smile so sincere and eyes so genuine that for a second you actually believe in him. You nod back at him out of politeness, and give him a faint smile.

“Okay! Now let’s take a picture!”

You both smile for the camera, then afterwards you stand up from the chair. Before you leave, he grabs a hold on your hand, making you turn back to look at him.

“Just believe Ms. Y/N. Even if it’s a little bit; don’t lose hope. And you never know, love might be closer than you think. Maybe right under your nose! Merry Christmas!” He gives you a heartwarming smile and you reciprocate, then nod and leave back to Eunji.

-

You finally get home to your apartment, chucking off your boots and tugging off your beanie. You quickly change into some comfy sweats and a big, warm sweater then find solace in your warm comforter.

You lay on your side, and a shiny object catches your eye.

The ring attached to the necklace around your neck that Namjoon gave to you on your anniversary.

You caress the last piece you have left of him, then sit up to take it off your neck. You stare at the object in your hands, then think about what Santa had said earlier that night.

Sometimes, we have to go through a few obstacles before we find love.

Maybe Namjoon was just one of those obstacles.

You really thought he was the one, but you probably had it all mixed up.

If you really really believe in your wish, it’ll definitely come true.

You really did want to find the one someday.

As dumb as you really thought it was, maybe he’s right. You just really have to believe, and your wish will come true. You’ll find a great guy that will treat you right someday.

At that moment, a furry figure jumps onto the bed and tugs the necklace out of your hand, dropping it to the floor.  You were about to yell at him but he brushes himself against your hand, purring as he tries to get you to cuddle him.

You can’t help but smile at him wanting attention from you, then start petting him. “What’s up with you today, Taco?”

You’ve had your cat for a couple of years, way before you started dating Namjoon. You rescued him when he was just a little kitten, stuck in the tree in front of your house. His endless cries made you pity him, so you ended up climbing up and getting him down. After that, he stuck to you like glue and you ended up keeping him.

Not only was it loving, warm cuddles he would give to you that made you fall for him, it was his beautiful coat too.

His light caramel fur along with some chocolate spots, the cute little mole that resides on the tip of his nose that you loved to kiss along with the one under his right eye. What always leaves this cutie so captivating is his gorgeous jade colored eyes that shines like an emerald in the rough.

You’re about to bend down to grab the necklace again, but your thoughts stop you.

Why hold onto it? Namjoon wasn’t worth it, and you knew it too.

Taco runs his head along the palm of your hand again, nudging you to pay attention to him. You chuckle, petting him and taking him in your arms as you lay back down on the bed. He snuggles himself into your neck, tickling your skin and making you giggle.

“What do I need him for? What do I need a man for when I have you, Taco?” You say as he purrs into your neck.

“You’re as loyal as ever, and you’ll always be there for me, right?” Once you say that he places a paw on your cheek, making you look over. He moves closer to you, licking your top lip and cutely meows to you.

“Want me to do it back?” He meows back to you again and you giggle. “If only you were human Taco, we’d be perfect.” You kissed the mole on his nose and snuggled closer into him, cuddling with each other until you both fell asleep.

-

You were having the nicest dream that night. You dreamt that you fell asleep, so warm and comfy completely engulfed in someone’s arms. It must have been your other half, the man of your dreams (literally). He smelled faintly of peppermint, and the alluring smell made you feel even more cozy. You snuggle yourself into the warm embrace, leaving you to face his chest and take in more of his scent.

You slowly opened your eyes, feeling a little better from the previous day.

All of a sudden this feeling of unsettledness churns in the pit of your stomach, because you’re awake and yet strangely, the dream is still continuing.

The smell of peppermint continues to fill your senses, and the inviting warmth surrounds your figure. The arms around you hug you tighter. Legs are tangled into yours, and you can hear light breathing of the person next to you as they rest their chin on the top of your head.

Namjoon?

Your heart is beating a mile a minute. Did he come back? Is he sorry for what he’s done?

He never smelled this way though. He doesn’t feel this way when he’s hugging you.

Who the fuck is it?

You slowly look up, scared shitless of who it could possibly be.

You’re met with an unrecognizable face, and you hate yourself for thinking this at that moment but he was beautiful.

Actually, he was ethereal.

His chocolate hair was a bit messy, but his bangs hung down a little over his eyes. His caramel skin was so smooth, and he smelled amazing. One distinct feature of his caught your eye though.

He had a tiny mole right on the tip of his nose.

You couldn’t figure out why that felt so familiar to you at the moment because now you were freaking out.

You jumped out of your bed, finally realizing the reality of the situation. There was a stranger that broke into your home and snuck into your bed.

Why didn’t Taco make any sound? Where was he?

You couldn’t go and look for him now as you stumble around, frantically trying to look for your cell phone to call the police. As you’re going through your drawer, you hear a deep, husky voice speak to you.

“What are you doing so early, Y/N?”

You freeze on the spot.

How the fuck did this guy know your name? How did he even get into the house?

You slowly turn back to look at him, then you spotted something you didn’t notice before. He was sprawled on the bed, lazily looking at you as he rubs one of his eyes. Right at the top of his head, you see what looks like…ears?

Not ears that a normal human would have on the sides of their head. No, fucking cat ears resting right at the top of his head.  

Some furry loving cat cosplayer weirdo just broke into your home.

Immediately, you grab your hairspray from the top drawer and point it in his direction.

“W-Who the fuck are you? What the fuck are you doing in my house, laying with me on my bed?”

He looks at you a bit confused, and now he’s fully awake. He slowly sits up, and that’s when you really notice something.

He’s staring straight at you, jade eyes shining brightly. Almost the same jade eyes that mesmerizes you every day that belonged to-

“…Taco?”

He makes a sound that almost sounds like a hiss under his breath, “My name isn’t fucking Taco, it’s Tae!”

His ears perk up straight and as he sits up even more, the bedsheets fall from his figure. Completely exposed to you is his broad shoulders and defined collarbones, followed by his toned, smooth stomach that had a faint etch of a six pack coming along.

His eyes follow yours that scanned his impeccable figure, and his eyes widen in surprise. “Woah, when did this happen?”

He continues to look at himself, running his hand along his forearms and touching his face. “When did I turn human?”

He grabs ahold of the sheets, pulling it up slightly to look under. He raises a brow, then nods his head. “Well, still got it going on down here in Tae town-“

He’s about to lift the sheets completely off of himself, but you stop him with a scream.

“NO! FOR GODS SAKE KEEP IT ON!”

He freezes, then lets go of the sheet. He cranes his neck to the side, staring at you as his ears falter a bit. “Why are you pointing that at me?”

“Who are you? Why are you here? Why are you NAKED IN MY BED!?” You yell in frustration.

He’s still looking at you in confusion. “You don’t recognize me in this form?”

“Form? What form?”

He gestures a hand around himself. “This form. My human form.”

You look at him as if he’s talking like some psychopath. “Dude, I don’t know who the hell you are but please leave and take your cat dressing fetish out of my home or I’m going to call the police.”

He huffs in annoyance. “It’s me, Taco.”

Taco? Your cat?

He points to his face. “Can’t you tell by my eyes? Or the mole on my nose you always kiss?”

He reaches above his head, tugging on his ears. “These aren’t fake by the way, and I don’t have a cat dressing fetish. I am a cat.” He runs a hand through his hair, “Your cat. And my name isn’t Taco, it’s Tae. I fucking hated that name,” He says with a frown.

You slowly lower the hairspray, then drop your hands to your sides.

“…Taco?”

“TAE!” He yells to you, making you jump in your spot.

He clears his throat. “Sorry. It’s Tae though, that’s my name. I'm not a damn taco.”

He scratches the back of his head, “Look, I know this is really weird and all, but it’s me. I don’t really know why this happened either, but what’s done is done.” He looks at you, no hint of hostility in his eyes.

You slowly make your way over to him, and he stays in one place as not to scare you. You sit in front of him on the bed, looking over all of his features.

His skin tone and his hair color is just like Tacos. The mole under his right eye, his striking jade eyes. When you look closely, his eye shape and his pupils is really similar to a cats. You slowly reach forward, touching his mole on his nose.

It was very faint, but for a second you thought you heard him…purr?

You move your hand higher, reaching for his ears. You tug at them lightly, realizing that they really are attached to his head. You slowly run your hand down along it in complete awe.

This is all real.

This is actually happening to you.

Without thinking you accidentally scratch the underside of his ears, and he lets out a deep moan. You move your hand back quickly in shock, “Oh my god, sorry-“

He quickly catches your hand in his, then brings his face into your palm.

“No, it felt good. I love when you do that to me.” He rubs his face against your hand, running his cheek across it as he lets out low purrs.

“Touch me more.”

Your face goes crimson red, then you quickly snatch your hand from out of his grasp and jump from the bed.

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You’re Tac-Tae, and overnight you turned human. Well semi human because you still have fucking cat ears. You’re not some weirdo cat cosplayer that broke into my home to kidnap me, but you’re my cat that turned human?”

He shrugs, “I guess you can put it that way.”

You can’t believe this is seriously happening.

This is like some weird fictional drama scenario. How could this have possibly happen? Did someone put some curse on you? You let out a gasp, then remembered what happened the night before.

Santa and your wish. You hoping to find a kind, loyal and loving boyfriend.

You saying that if Taco were human then you’d be perfect for each other.

“I didn’t LITERALLY mean it!” You yelled aloud to yourself all of a sudden.

Tae jumped in his seat, looking even more confused as ever. “What the hell are you yelling about?”

You stared at him bug eyed.

This is not happening. This cannot be happening. Your cat did not just turn human.

Santa did not just turn your cat into a human because you can’t find a real guy in the world who you’d have a chance with.

Was there really no chance with anyone else? You’re last resort is your cat?

You scream again, groaning as you throw yourself face first into the bed.

“I’m hopeless. And I’m going crazy.” You flip around and grab a pillow, throwing it over your face. “This all has to be a dream. I’m going to die alone.”

You feel rough hands grab ahold of yours, pulling the pillow off of your face. You’re met with Tae’s, a mere inches from yours as he hovers over you from the side.

“Hey, stop being so dramatic. You have me. I’m yours, remember?” He nudges his face a bit into your hand.

You stare in silence as you watch his movements. He’s the exact same way as he was when he was a cat, only in a grown man’s body. He still nudges into your palm, and you can’t help that a small smile crept on your lips.

You instinctively caress his face, watching as he hums in content. Taco loved when you would pet him, especially when you ran your fingers along his head. You did the same with Tae, seeing him get lost in your touch.

You gently scraped your nails through his hair, actually forgetting how crazy this all was, and at that moment all of a sudden he jumps on top of you with a groan.

He places one leg between both of yours, straddling one leg and putting both his hands beside your head as you look at him in shock. He kneels down, bringing his face to yours so close you can feel his heavy breaths on your lips.

He rubs his face against yours, cheek to cheek, then runs his nose along your jawline with hot pants. You’re too shaken to even move at this point, leaving both hands on either side of you.

He continues to bring his face lower, rubbing himself into the juncture of your neck that he loved to do so much.

He ran his nose along the side, then darted his tongue out to give your neck a quick swipe. The wet muscle sliding along your skin woke you up instantly, then you push his chest back.

“Get off of me!”

His eyes widen, ears faltering as he pouts at you. “Why? You used to let me all the time.” He tries to lower his face again, but you push against him again.

“That was different! You can’t do that anymore!” A blush was creeping up your face and it was really starting to get hot in here.

“What’s different? Nothing’s different! Woah, what’s wrong with your face? Are you sick?” He touches your cheek, faintly running his thumb across your face. He stares at you in concern with his jade eyes, craning his neck to the side.

“I-I’m fine, just get off of me will you-“

You stop midway through your sentence because you felt something touch your thigh. You lifted your leg a little out of reflex, confused at what just hit you.

“Ahh,” Tae drops his head to your shoulder, struggling to keep himself upright.

“C-Can you do that again?” He pants hotly into your ear.

Then it clicked in your head.

You looked down slightly, your eyes scanning his naked figure from waist up. Once you realize what part of his body is resting against your thigh, your face goes red as a tomato and you scream aloud, pushing him completely off of you.

He rolls to the side with an oof! then you jump up faced away from him.

“Oh my god your- and my thigh- oh my god,” you cover your face up with your hands as you groan.

“Oh god, I need to take a shower…just stay there please, I’ll be back,” You say as you frantically make your way to the bathroom.

You click the door shut, then slide down the wall and onto the floor.

My cat’s…human. Taco is…Tae, a human?

This has to be some crazy prank Eunji is pulling on you.

She hired some hot weirdo to sleep on your bed and pretend he’s your cat, that way you can get over Namjoon quickly. She wouldn’t go as far as hiring a stranger to do this to you though. What the fuck is happening?

You still need time to wrap all of this around your head.

You let out a heavy sigh. A hot shower would be really nice right now.

You get up, removing all your clothes as you make your way into the shower. You turn on the hot water and let it slide down your figure, letting the warmth run down your face. You hum in content, letting it relax you.

What the hell were you going to do? If Tae really is your cat, is he going to live with you from now on? What about his ears?

Does he still eat cat food? Does he still shit in the litter box because you are not fucking down to clean that shit-

You reached down to grab your shampoo, but grab something else that felt really funny.

You look down. It looked like a rope, all hairy and brown. What the fuck is this?

You tug it closer to inspect it better, but a husky groan stops you in your tracks. What the fuck was that-

“Mm, fuck, don’t pull so hard. While you’re at it, do you mind getting my back?”

You turn to see Tae, back faced to you and butt naked in the shower. He’s rubbing body wash into his chest, but stopped with a moan once you accidentally gripped whatever was in your hand again. You look at what you’re still holding and what you see makes you mortified.

A tail. A fucking tail attached right above his damn buttcrack and you’re holding the tip in your hand-

“Ahh, don’t-“ He grips onto the ledge for support, legs slightly wobbling as his ears fold on his head. “Please, be gentle.” He pants.

You immediately let go of him, then push him out of the shower.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! GET OUT!” You manage to spit out. You shut the shower door behind him as you attempt to cover yourself up.

“What?! We do this all the time!” He tries to open the door again but you hold it closed.

“NO! SHOWER ALONE WHEN I’M DONE! JUST GET OUT!”

“But I still have soap in my-“

“OUT!”

“Fine! You’re so fucking weird, I���ll just wash it out in the sink,” He huffs, walking out of the bathroom.

Once you hear the door click you yell for a good 10 seconds into your towel. What the FUCK is happening?

-

After spending the next half hour reevaluating your life choices and asking God why he would do this to you, you finally find the courage to walk out of the bathroom. You slowly peek your head out, looking both ways to see where Tae could have gone. You didn’t want to see him butt naked again, or even worse, his tail.

After the coast was clear, you creeped around to find where he went off to. It was eerily quiet. Did he leave?

Was this all a figment of your imagination?

You hear a groan in the living room and jump, then slowly tiptoed your way to the direction of the sound. You look around your living room with no sign of him, but when you made your way around the couch you found him fast asleep on top.

He wasn’t naked (thank god), he was wearing a white t-shirt and some black basketball shorts. He must have grabbed Namjoon’s clothes that were left in the closet, then knocked out after the shower.

You walked over, kneeling down in front of him. You looked at every detail on his face, still in shock of how much he actually did look like your cat.

His skin and hair was the same color as Taco’s fur, and his moles were in the exact same spots. You can’t help but lightly touch his hair, watching as he rests so calmly on the couch just like you would with Taco every day.

He moves a bit in his sleep, nudging himself closer into your touch as he stretches farther along the couch. You chuckle, remembering how your cat would do that all the time when you petted him.

You examine his ears on his head again, then lightly brush your fingertips along it. They looked so realistic, salmon colored on the inside and a chocolate brown on the back to match his hair color. You couldn’t see his tail right now since they were under him, but from the shower it did feel very realistic as well.

As much as you wanted to, you didn’t have the heart to tell Tae he couldn’t live here. He reminded you too much of your most precious pet, and Taco was nowhere to be found. And as crazy as it sounds, you’re really starting to think he is your cat.

Your thoughts are lost when Tae jerked a bit, suddenly bringing his hand to rest on your cheek. You freeze as he slowly opens his eyes, the jade colored pupils pulling you into a mesmerizing trance once again. In a blink of an eye, he moves forward toward you, bringing his lips a mere inches from yours.

He darts his tongue out, gently caressing your top lip with a swipe. He moves back, licking his pink lips as he stares back at you.

“Do it back.”

You’re still frozen on the spot, too lost in what he just did to respond to him so you just stare back at him with wide eyes. He continues to look at you, then huffs in annoyance.

“You don’t remember or something? Like this,” He brings his lips up to your face again, but leaves a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Now do it to me.”

You’re still trying to comprehend that he literally just licked your lips and kissed your damn nose, and you’re at a loss for words.

“Do you want me to do it again?” He grabs ahold of your face in his hands, then brings his lips back to you. “Like this-“

“I get it!” You push him backwards onto the couch, then immediately stand up. “Stop that. I-I just don’t want to.”

“Why?”

You turn to look at him, and he actually looked really sad. Just like when you wouldn’t give Taco attention, his ears would fold and he’d look at you with big, glossy eyes.

“W-We have to figure out how to turn you back. This isn’t good, Tac-Tae.”

“What if I can’t? What if I stayed like this forever?”

What if he did? What would you do?

“You said if I was human, we’d be perfect for each other.”

He understood that?

“And if it’s worth anything, I’m way bigger than Namjoon ever was-“

You smack him on the back of the head, earning a groan from him. “What?!”

“Idiot!” You stand up, walking away to your bedroom. This is going to be a Christmas to remember.

[hoboal87]

Some thoughts and a quasi fix-it on the Finale (SPOILERS)

I want to preface this by saying that I like the finale, if you didn’t, I completely get that, and if you just want to say nasty things, you can move on to the next post =)

I’ll try to keep my thoughts coherent, but no promises. Obviously, a lot of things had to change with this final episode of COVID-19, and I’ll try to address how I think they could’ve worked around it without changing the essence of this episode, which again, I’ll reiterate, I liked.

Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

As the episode opens, we see the boys living a “normal” life. They don’t have to worry about cosmic entities anymore, they can just do what they do best. I honestly loved this, the boys just being domestic: cooking breakfast, doing research, doing laundry, all of it. My one complaint about this opening montage is there is no clear passage of time. How long has it been since Chuck was rendered powerless? A day? A week? A few months? A year? In my opinion, it’s been maybe a couple of weeks, but I feel like the writers were trying to imply that it’s been a couple of months and it was just unclear. For me, that would have solved one of my few issues with the episode. So let's change it up a little =)

We open similarly, but in the background, we can see the date it is actually five years (or whatever amount) later. The boys are getting ready for their respective days, Dean is living in an apartment over a bar, and we watch as Sam returns from his run and enters a small house. Dean doesn’t just live above the bar, he owns it, finally having some normalcy in his life, this is what wants. He proudly displays pictures of Sam, Bobby, Mary and John, his own way of keeping them close.Sam walks into the kitchen and sees a note on the refrigerator.

“Gone to get supplies, see you tonight, Love, E.”

Sam smiles at the note as he twirls the silver band on his finger, taking in the black and white sonogram displayed prominently next to the note. We follow Sam through the house, and we see photos of his and Eileen’s wedding, and pictures of their families. His kids will never have questions about their pasts, about their families, Sam and Eileen are intent on that.

Dean opens his bar, it’s a steady crowd, flirts with some of the women, but isn’t really pursuing anything, he’s closed himself off to the idea of a wife and kids. He’s got a nephew that’ll be here in a few months anyway, and he’s already told Sam how he plans to spoil that kid rotten. We cut between Sam and Dean, watching them go through their day, Dean working at the bar, Sam with papers splayed in front of him, implying he’s gone back to school. They’re both content, finally getting what they’ve always truly wanted. They still hunt, that much is apparent as we see them at one point cleaning their weapons or doing research.

As Dean closes up the bar he sends Sam a message.

“You ready for tomorrow?”

Sam rolls his eyes playfully, “are you sure its the best idea?”

“Hell, yes. I was born ready, it’s my destiny. Tomorrow 8 am.”

This would be, maybe a 5 to 7 minute opening scene? Then we get the title card. The rest of the episode plays the same from here. Sam and Dean go on a mini-vacation, which turns into a hunt.

So about Dean’s death. I wouldn’t change a single thing.

Personally, I don’t think there was any other way to end the series. As a bunch of people pointed out, Dean’s been saying some form of “I die bloody” since the beginning of the show. Now, did I want Dean to die? No. Dean deserved to live a full and happy life, but as Michael said, “since when do we get what we deserve?”

I rewatched the episode yesterday, and I SOBBED like a fucking baby throughout Dean’s death scene. I will agree it was a little Wincest-y, but, honestly, is it really that surprising? Sam and Dean have only ever had each other. Dean raised Sam, Dean is Sam's parent in every way that counts. A user pointed out, I’m so sorry if you see this please let me know and I will tag to your post, Dean speech starts more as a father to son type instead of brother to brother.

Sam is in shock when Dean tells him that he’s hurt, immediately going with “I’ll get the first aid kit.” The look on Dean’s face is heart-breaking, and you can see that he has already accepted his fate, he’s known since the second that the rebar (NOT A FUCKING NAIL) went through him that he was not walking away. Sam is going through all the stages of grief in just a few minutes.

Denial – “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Anger – “No, we are gonna get [the boys] somewhere safe.”

Bargaining – “I’ll find a way, I’ll find another way.”

Depression – “Don’t leave me. I can’t do this alone.”

Acceptance – “It’s okay, Dean. You can go now.”

All the while, Dean is telling Sam how proud of him he is, and that he “loves [Sam] so much.” Now, please correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that this is the first time that Dean has said to Sam that he loves him. I know we’ve heard him say it to other people and it’s definitely been implied, and the closest we got was in sacrifice, “don’t you think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you.”

Dean died in his brother’s arms, which to me, was beautiful. Can you imagine, though, Sam, carrying his brother’s lifeless body back to the Impala, setting him down gingerly in the back seat and driving back to the bunker?

I believe that we were supposed to get a lot of people at Dean’s funeral. Jody, Donna, Charlie, Bobby, Claire, (honestly, probably anyone who could be there.) But with travel restrictions into Vancouver, this had to change. It is not realistic for the writers/producers to ask people to quarantine for 2 weeks to shoot a half-day (if that) of filming. I did see that Samantha Ferris did say she wasn’t spoken to about the possibility of returning. I truly believe Shoshanna was supposed to be in this episode, but, her role was going to be very limited, and as much as I wanted to see her (obviously, from the above section) I firmly believe that she was supposed to be the woman Sam married.

Again let’s fix the second half of the episode:

Sam and Eileen give Dean a hunter’s funeral, and Sam quits the life altogether. He doesn’t want his son to ever lose him to a hunt. Eileen helps Sam through his depression, knowing exactly how it feels to lose your family. We get a similar montage, Sam takes over the bar, takes in Miracle, and keeps the Impala tucked away, for now, it’s too painful to even look at. Sam leaves Dean’s apartment as is for the longest time, afraid to move anything, what if he forgets where to put it back? We can see he’s just going through the motions, that is, until his son is born.

We see Sam cradling a newborn in his arms, Dean had joked from the moment Eileen announced her pregnancy that they should name the baby after him. Sam and Eileen laughed him off at the time, saying the world only ever needed one Dean Winchester. But now, Sam can’t think of any better way to honor his brother, than to name his son Dean.

Dean is in Heaven, greeted by Bobby who tells him all about new Heaven. Jack fixed it, and it is the Heaven that Dean deserves. When Bobby mentions Cas, Dean smirks, and Bobby assures him that Cas is around. Dean spots Baby, and tells Bobby that he's going to take her for a drive. Dean doesn’t know how long he's going to drive, but remembers Bobby’s words, “time works different up here,” and knows that eventually Sam will join him.

Dean watches from afar as Sam lives on, raising his son and daughter (cause honestly Sam would want more than one kid), he keeps them knowledgeable about the life, but they don’t hunt. On Dean Jr.’s eighteenth birthday Sam takes him to get an anti-possession tattoo, but it is more of a symbol to honor his family, Sam teaches Dean about the Impala, and how to take care of her, and he’s a natural mechanic just like his Uncle. Once a year, on the anniversary of his brother’s death, Sam sits in Baby, and feels connected to Dean, telling him much he misses him and how he wishes he was with him.

Dean watches as Sam grows old, and keeps his word, even though Sam didn’t know it, he’s been by his side the whole time. On his deathbed, Sam is surrounded by his children and Eileen (or an Eileen stand-in), who tell him it’s okay to go, and tells them all how much he loves them before letting go.

We cut to Dean, waiting on a bridge, the same one from his and Sam’s first hunt, and he can feel himself becoming whole again.

“Heya Sammy.”

[aion-rsa]

Holiday Gift Guide 2020: Books for Geeks

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The holiday season is probably going to look very different this year, but there’s one thing that hasn’t changed: the sacred ritual of gift-giving. While we might not be able to gather in the same way for the 2020 holiday season, we can still let the people in our lives know how much they mean to us with the perfect gift (and maybe get ourselves something nice while we’re at it—we deserve it).

We here at Den of Geek believe there is no better gift than a good book and, with nerd culture still very much mainstream culture, there is no shortage of geeky books to get the nerd in your life. From Star Wars and Star Trek to Outlander and Wheel of Time to those speculative fiction books that broke into the zeitgeist this year without a franchise to support them, here’s a list of books we recommend for every kind of geek…

Editor’s note: Den of Geek may receive a small commission from items purchased through the links in this story.

The Eye of the World 30th Anniversary Edition by Robert Jordan

For the “Wheel of Time” fan in your life.

We’re all excited about the forthcoming Amazon Prime adaptation of the Wheel of Time series, especially long-time fans of Jordan’s fantasy epic. It’s been 30 years since the series launched, and this special 30th Anniversary Edition of the first book in the series, The Eye of the World, helps capture all the magic of reading the book for the first time. This edition features a new introduction by Brandon Sanderson, a hardcover stamp of the snake-wheel symbol so important to the series, redesigned jacket art, and a ribbon bookmark. Whether you want to give this to a longtime fan or whether you’re hoping to hook an epic fantasy reader on the series, the high production value on this special edition makes for a great gift.

Buy The Eye of the World 30th Anniversary Edition by Robert Jordan

The Wintertime Paradox: Festive Stories from the World of Doctor Who by Dave Rudden

For the Doctor Who fan in your life.

This spin on Doctor Who features twelve stories in the “Whoverse” all set on or around Christmas. While the holiday doesn’t play an important feature in many of the stories, visions of the Doctor’s Christmas Past, Present, and Future are sure to entertain. Though most likely to appeal to fans of the series, this is also a collection marketed toward children, which makes it possible to share your love of the series with a young person in your life.

Buy The Wintertime Paradox: Festive Stories from the World of Doctor Who by Dave Rudden

Heroes’ Feast: The Official Dungeons and Dragons Cookbook

For the gamer in your life.

While cooking these recipes isn’t as simple as casting the titular spell, it does contain eighty recipes for fantasy inspired feasts. In addition to the recipes—some of which may be a little challenging for beginners, as they start from scratch rather than premade ingredients—the foods come with lore about the foods from the familiar Dungeons and Dragons cultures. Included are recipes for Feywild Eggs, “Orc” Bacon, Dwarven Mulled Wine, and Halfling Heartland’s Rose Apple and Blackberry Pie. Making some of these for game night might be a challenge, but Halfling-style Melted Cheeses with Chunky Tomato Broth sounds so good, your giftee won’t even mind if some spills on their character sheet.

Buy Heroes’ Feast: The Official Dungeons and Dragons Cookbook

Rebel Sisters by Tochi Onyebuchi

For the anti-war, YA fan in your life.

It’s been a big year for Onyebuchi, with this second book in his “War Girls” series and his first adult novel, Riot Baby, hitting the shelves. Onyebuchi’s Afrofuturist YA features nineteen year old Ify as a respected medical officer on the Space Colonies, and Uzo, a synth who’s working to preserve the memories and history of wartorn Nigeria. When a virus hits the Space Colonies, Ify must return to Nigeria for answers—even though she’d pledged to leave her homeland behind. For readers who love strong Black girls leading the action in a space-bound future, this is a fantastic pick.

Buy Rebel Sisters by Tochi Onyebuchi

To Sleep in a Sea of Stars by Christopher Paolini

For the Eragon and space opera fan.

Fantasy readers remember Christopher Paolini from “The Inheritance Cycle,” published for YA readers, which were filled with dragons and magic. But Paolini’s first adult novel heads into space, introducing the Fractalverse setting, and focusing on a xenobiologist whose encounter with an ancient, alien artifact sends her across the galaxy, where the fate of humanity rests on her shoulders. This is a great choice for fans who grew up on Paolini’s YA novels, or for readers who like doorstopper sci fi.

Buy To Sleep in a Sea of Stars by Christopher Paolini

The Hollow Ones by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan

For fans of The Strain.

The Strain had four seasons on FX, and the horror drama procedural won fans and awards. The show was based on a trilogy of novels from master of horror Guillermo del Toro and literary heavyweight Chuck Hogan, who have now reunited on a fresh series. The Hollow Ones follows a young FBI agent who discovers an otherworldly evil when it takes over her partner—and forces her to kill him in self defense. For fans who love their procedurals with a heavy dose of horror, this is sure to keep their spines tingling.

Buy The Hollow Ones by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan

The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian by Phil Szostak

For fans of Baby Yoda.

The Mandalorian has clearly been a breakout show for Disney+, putting new life into the Star Wars universe, and featuring everyone’s favorite new character, The Child (aka Baby Yoda). The end of each episode features concept art designed for the show, and for viewers who love seeing where the ideas germinated, The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian is a fantastic way to dig into the details of the first season.

Buy The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian by Phil Szostak

Cemetery Boys by Aidan Thomas

For queer paranormal romance lovers.

Yadriel is determined to prove himself as a brujo—even though his family hasn’t accepted him as a boy. But when he raises the wrong spirit while trying to solve the mystery of his cousin’s death, everything gets more complicated. In our review, we praised the book for its groundbreaking depiction of trans identity in Latinx culture and called it “a riveting, romantic read filled with paranormal wonder.” Fans who loved the queer romance reveal in She-Ra won’t be able to stop turning pages.

Buy Cemetery Boys by Aidan Thomas

Seven of Infinities by Aliette de Bodard

For the lover of science fiction sleuths.

This latest in de Bodard’s Xuya universe features an unlikely pair of detectives teaming up to solve a murder. Vân is a poor scholar hiding her possession of an illegal implant. Sunless Woods is a mindship who is also a thief and master of disguise. The pair have to work together to solve a murder—and unravel their own secrets. For readers who enjoyed de Bodard’s previous The Tea Master and the Detective or enjoy a good detective tale in space, this is a sure hit.

Buy Seven of Infinities by Aliette de Bodard

Super Mario: Manga Mania by Yukio Sawada

For the NES nostalgic.

It’s the 35th anniversary of Super Mario Bros! This is the first Super Mario manga ever available in English, and for classic NES fans nostalgic for the good old days of their vintage system, the zany adventures contained in this volume hit all the right notes.

Buy Super Mario: Manga Mania by Yukio Sawada

Sal and Gabi Break / Fix the Universe by Carlos Hernandez

For the young reader in your life.

The Sal and Gabi duology (Sal and Gabi Break the Universe and Sal and Gabi Fix the Universe) are ostensibly about a boy who can reach through the multiverse and bring things through to his part of reality—but they’re also about friendship, finding common ground, being your best self, and sentient AI. Most middle grade books depict middle school as an evil horrible place, as much an antagonist as the book’s real villain. The Sal and Gabi books do away with all of that. Not only is Culeco Academy the coolest middle school ever, the series manages to ramp up all the tension and drama needed without having an actual villain. (Even the people who seem villainous at first turn out to be different from expected.) These are a delight for adult readers who love middle grade fiction, but they’re even more important for middle schoolers, who deserve to see kids their age saving the multiverse in communities full of hope and love.

Buy Sal and Gabi Break / Fix the Universe by Carlos Hernandez

Outlander Knitting: The Official Book of 20 Knits Inspired by the Hit Series by Kate Atherley

For the crafter in your life.

For fans of either Diana Gabaldon’s time-travel romance novel series or the hit Starz adaptation, this collection of patterns inspired by the show will transport your crafting friend into the Scottish Highlands. Featured among the projects are clothing, accessories, and decorations for the home.

Buy Outlander Knitting: The Official Book of 20 Knits Inspired by the Hit Series by Kate Atherley

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones

For horror fans.

Compared favorably to horror-master Stephen King’s It, this classic revenge horror seamlessly combines elements of social commentary and drama. The story follows for American Indian men who, as childhood friends, experienced a disturbing event together. Now, the past has come back with a vengeance, and there’s no avoiding the violence they tried to leave behind. Jones is making his mark in the world of horror, and this is a not-to-be-missed thriller.

Buy The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones

Teen Titans: Raven and Beast Boy box set by Kami Garcia and Gabriel Picolo

For DC fans.

Garcia and Picolo’s Raven and Beast Boy origin stories reinvent the characters for an audience who may have already met them in kid-friendly Teen Titans Go! or adult-aimed Titans. While the comic versions presented here draw on those previous incarnations, the stories are self-contained, giving readers both familiar and new to the DC series a chance to experience them for the first time. This hardcover box set gives the books an extra gift-worthy feeling.

Buy Teen Titans: Raven and Beast Boy box set by Kami Garcia and Gabriel Picolo

Thorn by Intisar Khanani

For the friend who needs a fresh fairy tale.

In this retelling of “The Goose Girl,” reluctant Princess Alyrra is happy to have escaped royal life. But when she learns of a plot against the prince, she must decide whether to reclaim the heritage she wanted to leave behind, or let the kingdom fall. This beautiful hardcover edition also features an additional short story set in the same world.

Buy Thorn by Intisar Khanani

Dinosaurs: The Grand Tour, Second Edition: Everything Worth Knowing about Dinosaurs from Aardonyx to Zuniceratops by Keiron Pim

For Jurassic World and other dinosaur fans.

While the 2020 entry into the Jurassic World franchise, Camp Cretaceous, was geared toward younger viewers, plenty of adults never grow out of their love of dinosaurs. And why should they? These prehistoric terrors continue to be amazing—and modern scientists continue to make new discoveries on an almost weekly basis. This huge guide to dinosaur species offers references for more than 300 species full of colorful illustrations that show these titans in all their (feathery!) glory.

Buy Dinosaurs—The Grand Tour, Second Edition: Everything Worth Knowing about Dinosaurs from Aardonyx to Zuniceratops by Keiron Pim

The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin

For the SFF connoisseur.

This series starter is set in a contemporary New York—but the city is coming to life. But a city killer is trying to stop New York from evolving, and the city’s mortal avatars are the target of its plans. It’s not uncommon to hear people considering N. K. Jemisin the best modern writer of speculative fiction, bar none, so picking up The City We Became, her most recent novel, is a no brainer if you’re buying for someone who likes smart, quality SFF.

Buy The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin

Cyber Shogun Revolution by Peter Tieryas

For the mecha enthusiast.

This triumphant conclusion to Tieryas’s United States of Japan trilogy, which can be read as a stand-alone, takes place in an alternate reality where Japan and Germany won World War II and divided the United States between them. An assassin known as Bloody Mary is determined to eliminate corruption from within the United States of Japan, regardless of the cost. It’s up to a secret police agent and a star mecha pilot to stop her, but determining enemies from friends is almost impossible. Tieryas balances the super cool world of mecha battles and spy action with searing social commentary and ethical questions, making this a challenging but imminently worthwhile read for fans of Pacific Rim.

Buy Cyber Shogun Revolution by Peter Tieryas

Star Trek: The Wisdom of Picard by Chip Carter

For the Star Trek fan in your life.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard has always been quotably wise. In this collection, Chip Carter pulls together some of the greatest lines, featuring Picard’s thoughts on leadership, justice, and space exploration. The quotes are accompanied by photography from iconic scenes of The Next Generation, making this a perfect gift for the Star Trek fan who already has everything.

Buy Star Trek: The Wisdom of Picard by Chip Carter

Axiom’s End by Lindsay Ellis

For fans of Arrival and Stranger Things.

This first contact story from Hugo-nominated video-essayist Ellis is set in an alternate 2007. In the world of the novel, Cora’s father has blown the whistle on the first contact cover up. Cora herself wants nothing to do with aliens, but when one of the aliens decides Cora is the only human he’ll talk to, she’s stuck in the middle of everything. For lovers of aliens and conspiracy theories, this is one to pick up.

Buy Axiom’s End by Lindsay Ellis

Court of Lions by Somaiya Daud

For lovers of YA court intrigue.

In this sequel to Daud’s Mirage, Amani, who has been forced to serve as the body double for Princess Maram, is on her last chance. The princess discovered Amani’s connection to the rebellion, and now Maram is suspicious of anything Amani does. Yet Amani is dedicated to the cause of seeing her people free, which means she has to make a choice: continue to work from within the palace and risk her life, or flee and risk her people. For a female-centered plot that deals with consequences of colonialism, this series conclusion and its predecessor are a sure hit.

Buy Court of Lions by Somaiya Daud

Star Wars From a Certain Point of View: The Empire Strikes Back

For the Star Wars fan.

Called “one of the best Star Wars books released this year” in our Den of Geek review, this anthology is packed with stories from authors both well-known and unfamiliar, whose works delve into the lives of central and side characters from The Empire Strikes Back. While some explore relationships between key characters (Luke, Leia, Obi-wan), others tackle the points of view of previously unnamed creatures (Sy-O, the space slug that swallows the Millenium Falcon). The stories are sometimes delightfully weird, other times grim or tender, and all a good gift choice for the Star Wars fan whose favorite film is still Empire.

Buy Star Wars From a Certain Point of View: The Empire Strikes Back

Remina by Junji Ito

For the manga fan.

This science fiction horror story centers on Dr. Oguro, who discovers a planet that has emerged from a wormhole and names it after his daughter, Remina. But as the girl Remina rises to fame, the planet shifts its course, threatening all life on Earth. Could Remina herself be the cause? This chilling story is a classic from Eisner-winner Junji Ito newly released for an English-reading audience.

Buy Remina by Junji Ito

Be Water, My Friend: The Teachings of Bruce Lee by Shannon Lee

For the martial arts enthusiast.

For friends who like a little more grounded, real-world take, this exploration of Bruce Lee’s philosophies, written by his daughter, offer insight into the legendary martial artist. Although this title offers no martial arts tips, it is full of philosophy, untold stories, and inspirational takes from the cultural icon.

Buy Be Water, My Friend: The Teachings of Bruce Lee by Shannon Lee

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

For the lover of gothic horror.

When her cousin begs her to come rescue her from a mysterious doom, Noemí heads to a house in the Mexican countryside. As she looks into the secrets of both the house and her newly-wed cousin’s husband, Noemí finds that there’s more danger—real and supernatural—than she ever imagined. Set in the 1950s, this supernatural horror blends elements of Rebecca and science fiction for a chilling novel perfect for lovers of classic gothics.

Buy Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Marvel Greatest Comics: 100 Comics That Built a Universe

For the Marvel fan.

In a collection that spans the entire history of Marvel comics, characters like the Human Torch, Spider-Man, the Avengers, and the Guardians of the Galaxy show their historical origins. If you have a fan who’s waiting impatiently for the next MCU offering, this collection of some of Marvel’s defining comics from the company’s history may be just what they need to tide them over.

Buy Marvel Greatest Comics: 100 Comics that Built a Universe

Star Daughter by Shveta Thakrar

For lovers of mythology and fairy tales.

Billed as Neil Gaiman’s Stardust meets Hindi mythology, this debut novel centers on the daughter of a star and a mortal. Sheetal tries to be normal, but when her starfire accidentally hurts her mortal father, she must travel to the celestial court in order to save him. The combination of court intrigue, mythology, and a fairy-tale like tone is perfect for YA lovers.

Buy Star Daughter by Shveta Thakrar

Emerald Blaze by Ilona Andrews

For the romantic who needs a great stocking stuffer.

Although better known for the popular Kate Daniels series, the Ilona Andrews team (husband and wife Ilona and Gordon) has knocked it out of the park with the most recent installment in their “Hidden Legacy” series. There are now five novels and a novella in the series, with Emerald Blaze as the second book of a second arc, but while the book is most likely to resonate with readers already introduced to the character, it’s also a stand-alone magic-spy-action-adventure-romance. Despite that blend of genres, Team Andrews melds it all together in a world with both super cool magic and an alternate-reality Instagram, featuring characters you want to hang out with regardless of the stakes. The mass-market size also makes it perfect to slip into a stocking!

Buy Emerald Blaze by Ilona Andrews

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[tibbinswrites]

Prompt #26

It’s my birthday!!!

So I got you all a present. That’s how birthdays work, right? I wrote you this fic. Prompt #26 on my list because guess how old I am?!

Fair warning: Major Character Death. I made myself cry.

I’ve now done prompts for: #1, #2, #4 and #16, #9, #10, #20, #26, #33, #77, #78, #170 (part 1), (part 2), (part 3), #327 and #502 and I’m not accepting any more prompts at this time.

Also, check out the destiel anthology I’m in. We’re 119% funded and saving for hardback so if you want one, get one!

Prompt #26. Afterlife

Getting old sucked. Ever since Dean had found his first grey hair and noticed that the wrinkles around Sam’s eyes weren’t going away when he stopped smiling, Dean had realised that he might actually get to experience old age. It was a thoughts that settled uncomfortable behind his sternum, though he knew it wasn’t exactly bad. They’d defeated Chuck, after all, and only a couple of years after that, Dean had called it quits and retired from hunting… mostly. He’d help out if there was a case in their neck of the woods, Sam always called him first so he could call dibs or pass as he pleased. At least he had, until Sam himself had retired with Eileen and they’d passed the reigns on to the younger generation.

That was just fine by Dean. Sam and Eileen now lived only a couple of blocks away, the bunker a place none of them had been to in years, though sometimes they got visits from the younger hunters, wanting to gawk or advice or to hear some of the Winchesters’ greatest hits, which Dean was always happy to oblige and he and Sam had a tally going of which one of the brothers they’d come to see (Sam was winning, but barely). He liked seeing the way their eyes bugged out when Cas brought out a plate of sandwiches and dropped a kiss to Dean’s hair before settling next to him on the couch, his hands taking Dean’s left in his own so he could fiddle with the ring he’d put there nearly thirty years before.

Now, Cas was the worse part of this getting old deal, because Cas wasn’t. Or… he was, his grace had been irreparably damaged over the years, but slowly. Cas still looked like he was only barely approaching fifty, while Dean had come to realise that he was a shrivelled-up eighty-eight-year-old.

Despite Cas’ assurances that it made no difference to him, that he was still older than Dean by millennia anyway, that his soul was still as beautiful as it had been, Dean still sometimes found himself staring into the mirror in dismay, then looking over at his still-gorgeous husband and feeling even worse. Especially when Dean had had to convince Cas to pretend that he was a carer out in public, or his son, or something that would make more sense than him, a raisin of a human, being married to an angel (formerly of the Lord, now of humanity) who just wasn’t ageing at the same rate and both of them being happier than either had dared imagine for themselves.

Dean watched Cas from his chair while he puttered around outside. Before they’d even finished unpacking their meagre belongings after moving in, Cas had started working on the garden. There was a small beehive at the very back, and lots of decorative birdbaths and birdfeeders they had been gifted with over the years and the plants themselves were an explosion of colour. Dean couldn’t really make it out there on his own anymore. There were a few stone steps to get down into it from the house that he struggled with now and thing was practically a jungle, with roots and uneven ground that was pretty perilous for a man of his age. There was no lawn to speak of, the grass was always too long and there were more trees and plants than open spaces. It was beautiful to look at though, and sometimes in the summer Cas would carry him out to the bench (that was nowhere near the beehive) and they would sit together and watch the birds and insects flutter by, and despite being surrounded by suburbia, they were perfectly alone, a place of calm, like the lake near the bunker they’d gone to years ago.

He got nostalgic a lot, and bitter with it sometimes. And though he didn’t regret the way his life had turned out, not at all, he missed feeling like he had something, anything, to give back to Cas in return for loving him. He couldn’t offer to help around the house anymore. He was confined to his chair most of the time. Cas carried him to bed and helped him hobble to the bathroom and cooked for him and put up with his crotchety-ness when his knees were bothering him. He made sure Dean took all his pills on time and read to him when his eyes wouldn’t focus properly and sign to him when his ears were fuzzy and drove him over to visit Sam and Eileen twice a week. And he still looked at Dean in a way that made his heart melt, like he was beautiful, and just as capable and strong as he’d been at thirty, and not the pile of brittle bones that he had become.

Cas saw him watching through the window and smiled, as though seeing Dean sat where Cas had gently placed him a few hours ago was the best surprise he could have hoped for. Dean shook his head and smiled back. Even after all these years Cas was still a giant romantic dork. It was good to see him smile. He’d been kind of mopey for the past week, though wouldn’t answer when Dean asked him what was wrong.

He came back in soon after that, though he’d only been out for around fifteen minutes. He brought Dean a bowl of soup for lunch and sat with him with his own bowl, telling him how the hive was doing and which flowers had just begun to bud. Dean listened to it all, just letting Cas’ voice brush through him, as soft as his grace.

“Claire called this morning.” Cas informed him. “She and Kaia are planning a trip to Athens next month for their anniversary.”

“Well it’s lucky for some,” Dean said with a smile. “I’ll bet Alex and Patience are jealous.”

“Livid,” Cas agreed. “Claire was very pleased. She’s hoping they might run into ‘something cool’.” Cas’ fingers quoted the last two words. “So I daresay they’ll spend a few days looking for a hunt.”

“And how’s Donna?”

“As well as can be expected. Alex is staying with her for a little while, you know.”

“Yeah.”

Cas had driven them to the funeral a few months back. Jody had died peacefully, surrounded by her wife and her girls, but it was still hard on all of them. Especially Donna and Claire. Jody had been kick-ass even as a pensioner, getting into trouble with the local law enforcement when she decided to voice her complaints about their ‘sloppy new police tactics’. Dean had been sad to say goodbye.

“I think you should call Sam.” Cas said once they were done eating, though Dean hadn’t even managed half of the soup; he missed the days he could devour seven grilled cheeses in quick succession.

One hand still holding Dean’s, the other playing through his wispy, white hair. At least he hadn’t gone bald like his grandfather, though Sam had followed in Samuel’s eggheaded footsteps, which was a fact that Dean never tired of teasing him about.

“Why? We were over there the other day.”

“I know, but… It’s nice to check in. I’ll get you the phone.”

Bewildered, Dean stared as Cas unstuck himself from his side and went to pick up the cordless phone. He dialled and held the phone to his ear, turning his back to Dean and talking quietly so he couldn’t hear or even attempt to lip read what was being said. That was weird.

“Here.” Cas said, a few minutes later, handing Dean the phone before kissing him on the cheek and gathering up the trays from lunch. “You talk to Sam and I’ll clean up.”

“You’re being weird.” Dean told him, but dutifully held the phone to his ear anyway. “Hey Sammy.”

“Hey Dean.” Sam’s voice cracked a little over the words. “How are you feeling?”

“Old,” Dean replied. You?”

“Four years younger.” Sam said, and Dean could hear the smartass grin through the phone.

“Hello, Dean,” came Eileen’s voice.

“No!” Dean said firmly. “I’m not falling for that again. Sam, tell Eileen I say hi and that she’s been pulling the same joke for the past forty years.”

“And you fell for it for the past thirty-nine of them.”

There was a pause, probably while Sam signed something to his wife because he heard her laugh.

“What did Cas wanna talk to you about anyway?” Dean asked. “And why doesn’t he know by now that he can just call you without pretending that I need to talk to you.”

“He’s just paying back the favour.” Sam said, a little too quickly. “It used to be that I was the one playing messenger between the two of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Why do I feel like you’re planning a surprise birthday party or something?”

“That’s exactly it. We forgot to do that in January. You know what my memory’s like now.”

“It’s from all those concussions you got.” Dean said, falling easily back into their old banter. Cas was right, talking with Sam was just what he needed. Sure, they still saw each other a lot, but over the phone he could almost kid himself that they weren’t as old as they looked, and even if they were… then it wasn’t that bad. Because he and Sam had made it through. Against all odds, through Hell and Heaven and Purgatory, they’d stared down monsters, ghosts, angels, demons and God and they’d beaten them all. They were the Winchesters and they’d survived.

Sure, this old age crap sucked, but every day he got to wake up next to the person he loved, knowing that his brother was doing the same. He got to hear stories from the hunters who came to visit, about new weapons they’d developed, new hunters they’d recruited, new lore they’d discovered. He got to hear how the fight was continuing without them and it was kinda nice to not be needed any more. He knew that he’d done his part, given all he had, and still ended up with a life worth bragging about. He didn’t worry about nightmares anymore, didn’t wake up drowning in guilt over things that were long over and done with. He’d made peace with his mistakes years ago, and he’d also learned to appreciate his victories.

His conversation with Sam lasted longer than he’d expected. They ended up, as most of their conversations did, reminiscing on old times. Mostly because there was so little present news happening. The world was quiet, for which they were both grateful, and they had more than earned the right to allow it to pass them by.

But this conversation felt different to the one they’d shared just the other day. Heavier almost. Sure, they laughed and poked fun at each other, just like they always had, even brothers in their eighties were still brothers after all, but Sam told him a few things that he was sure had never come up before, things like how grateful Sam was that Dean had raised him like he had, how he’d known all along the things he’d sacrificed so that he could have as normal a childhood as possible, even growing up as a hunter. He confessed how pleased he’d been to see him at Stanford, even knowing that it meant trouble, and other little moments like it. After hunts when Dean had been hurt, how terrified Sam had been every time. And when Sam got hurt, how much it had helped knowing that Dean was the one patching him up. He told a dozen different stories that emphasised how brave Sam thought he was, how kind, how smart, and he wouldn’t let Dean scoff off those compliments like he usually did.

Sam’s openness inspired his own and he found himself confessing things in kind. It felt good, cleansing, like a too-hot bath, and despite how stilted and slightly uncomfortable the entire conversation was, he was glad Cas had suggested the call.

Eventually, they both seemed to run out of things to say.

“Well, I should probably go,” Dean said. “But we’ll come visit on Tuesday like usual, kay?”

To his surprise, Sam sniffed, and it sounded like he was about to cry. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “Love you, jerk.”

“You too, bitch.”

He ended the call and glanced up at Cas, who had returned about an hour ago with a book, though instead of reading it, he was watching Dean.

Dean frowned at him, thinking about how weird Cas had been acting, how today he’d barely left him alone, how he’d caught him up on all the latest family news and made him call Sam. He remembered something Cas had told him years ago, when they’d first begun to let themselves truly love each other, how angels could sense when someone was dying.

“Today’s the day, isn’t it?” He asked.

Cas looked stricken for a moment, then he put the book aside and came back to sit at Dean’s side, curling around him like the world’s most careful question mark. “Yes.”

Dean reached out to grasp his hand. “Thank you. For making me talk to Sam.”

Cas just squeezed his frail fingers.

“Maybe I should’ve cut back on the burgers after all.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No, I don’t,” Dean conceded. “But this has been nice though. Our life. Our, post-hunting life.”

“Our together life,” Cas said, his breath soft against Dean’s neck. “Yes, it has.”

“I love you.”

“And it still takes a deathbed for you to say it,” Cas joked, as though Dean hadn’t made a point to say it at least once a day since they’d been married. “I love you too.”

“So, what happens… after?” He had to ask, despite knowing, he had to ask. Because he’d known this day was coming in a far-off kind of sense, and he’d died more often than he cared to count, but knowing that this was it, this would be his final trip over to the other side, well… he was a little apprehensive.

“I’ll find you.” Cas promised. “I’ll need you to wait for me a little while. I have to make the arrangements here and—”

“And be there for Sam.”

“Of course.” Cas said easily. “But as soon as I can, perhaps a week or two, I’ll find you; and we’ll keep… not-living a together afterlife.”

“I’ll like that.” Dean said, just as a sharp pain prodded at his chest.

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of visitors too,” Cas said. “Jack will make sure we have plenty of channels between Heavens. The last we spoke he said he was excited to see you again.”

“Be nice to see him too.” Dean said, though he was finding it hard to breathe; Cas stroked his hair and the touch was nice. “And the rest.”

The last thing he felt on Earth was Cas’ lips brushing his skin, and Dean Winchester drifted off, content in his angel’s arms; knowing that this was right, that he was ready, and that when he woke up back in his thirty-year-old body in whatever Heaven he had earned, he was gonna give Cas a hell of a welcome when he joined him.