#cas is just always confused

[nexus-my-beloved]

I like to imagine that despite all the "we can never go back to that life" arguments, Sam would in fact friend request his old friends from Stanford. Unfortunately, there's a couple problems with this:

A) Most of these guys haven't heard from Sam since he and Jessica's shared space caught fire and Jess died when Sam left "to find himself". Some of them think he probably was the arsonist and some of them were concerned, but either way Sam was gone to the wind and some people probably forgot him.

B) Sam has been legally declared dead by the government like. more than three times. It's basically the shock of when a relative dies but someone messages you with their account and at first out of grief or confusion you answer but most of the time it turns out to be a scammer that hacked their Facebook. This time the guy is actually real, well and alive, and also looks more like a lumberjack than the geeky guy you remember and /what the fuck why has he got muscles what did he do while he was gone-/

C) Sam was wanted by the FBI more than twice I think along with his brother. The first time there was news of them being bank robbers in a hostage situation that DIPPED OUT OF THE PLACE IN TACTICAL GEAR THEY STOLE OFF FEDERAL AGENTS. The second time, "Sam and Dean" LIVE STREAMED THEM KILLING PEOPLE IN THEIR FAVORITE SPOTS IN DIFFERENT STATES. This obviously freaks out Sam's friends because they're thinking "is he wanted by the FBI again?? Is he asking me for shelter??" And this leads into my next point,

D) Besides checking the news to see if Sam is wanted for like, grand larceny or something again, his poor friends are probably thinking "AM I A TARGET NOW??" and are pissing themselves scared. They make a group chat of the infamous friends of Sam Winchester and all ask each other "so we all got the friend request right" and are left to deliberate but also talk about the fact that "He's got a photo posted of this old car. The Sam we know wouldn't drive that." "I saw his brother take off with him in that car after the fire, though." / "Did you guys see he's got all that muscle now??" "You're right he's actually attractive- we're getting distracted." / "What does he want with us??" "Maybe he actually does want to reconnect." (And despite the fact this is the truth—) "dude, he's been wanted by the FBI several times. Felons of that degree don't try to reconnect with friends from college."

DEAN:

Dean would be like one of those dads that go on Facebook and only look at things related to car shows or mechanics or something. He'd post pictures of Baby and be all proud of her and shit like that and he'd shit on people that were fixing their cars wrong. More than once this mother fucker will get pissed off enough at a guy on Facebook who is fucking up their car when they're doing "maintenance" and complain of issues with their muffler or something and Dean would threaten them for their address. Even if this guy lives across the country Dean will just yell at Sam and say he's doing something important, will drive across the US, get to the guy's house, and then spend the next three days fixing the car to perfection. Once he's done he is covered in oil and sweat and panting from heat because the guy lives in California or something, his check engine light doesn't work, his fuel tank had a hole in it, his car battery was faulty and his transmission wouldn't turn over properly. But Dean fixed it and he's proud and he posts a picture of him in just a gray T-shirt, sweat soaked through and oil on his face but he's standing in front of this car and then it's followed by a video of the car running and the motor just purring. He brags to everyone on Facebook that he fixed this car in three days and it'll run great for a while before anything needs to be fixed as long as this guy doesn't pour water in the gas tank or Gatorade in the oil tank or something.

CAS:

Cas would use Twitter, get upset that there's so many arguments, but eventually would figure out the algorithm to just retweet cat pictures/videos and biblical quotes, would enjoy poetry, and probably would tweet the most random shit without context.

What I mean is, Cas' entire Twitter has no clue who Sam or Dean are. But from what they can piece together, Dean is either a boyfriend or an ex husband or something in between but no matter what the relationship is confusing at best. They can't figure out if Sam is Dean's son, brother, or dad, and they're confused on if Sam is Cas' friend or not considering how Cas has called Sam an abomination at least twice on Twitter. Cas accidentally creates a space one day and people are interested to hear Cas' voice and what's going on with his life but it's just Cas talking passionately about something (who the fuck is Micheal. What's this about possession??! Who's dying!? Why is he talking about bees now wha-) the conversation goes downhill and they probably either hear Dean confess to Cas or the other way around but neither of them take it as a love confession even though it clearly is and they are once again confused on Cas and Dean's relationship. Another time when Cas accidentally makes a space Destiel ends up having sex and the space can hear it and, once again, after the space they still don't understand the relationship they have.

Cas would not have a profile picture because he'd have no idea how the fuck to change it. I also think Cas would act similar to Misha on Twitter but more consistently confused.

PERSONALLY, I THINK CAS WOULD USE TWITTER, DEAN WOULD USE FACEBOOK, SAM WOULD USE FACEBOOK AND INSTAGRAM

dean and sam being active on social media is so funny. we see very little of it. but i Know there’s humour in there somewhere. i think dean would share like. Everything. once he figured out how.

also does sam friend request his citizen friends he hasn’t spoken to in years…

no profile picture castiel is important to me

[shallowseeker]

(image by  ModestyElyonLane )

This is how many of Jack's cellphone pics look.

Dean and Cas posing rudely, and Sam perpetually caught off-guard in the background. Cas and Dean tend to mirror what the other is doing, no matter how silly (finger guns, tongue sticking out, kissy face, uber!serious stoic face).

Importantly, Jack always looks normal in the photos--so normal that he almost looks photoshopped in.

[manichewitz]

my hottest of hot supernatural hot takes is that i don't even consider cas's love confession canon because in my mind dean and cas have been canonically and lovingly suckin and fuckin since at least season 5. it was just happening offscreen

[in-all-timelines26]

how the hell is sam winchester underrated in his own show?

[casvonriegan]

I decidedly don't like how Miles Edgeworth-coded I am

[queerstudiesnatural]

kind of obsessed with the idea of dean and cas getting a house and sleeping in the same bed and building a normalcore life together, without ever officially getting together. cas comes back from the empty and dean hugs him, and after a few days he says they should get a house, so they do. they get a two bedroom and cas assumes it's so they each have their own room, but then dean picks one room as theirs, and says he thinks the other room will make a nice guest room for when sam and eileen/jack/claire come to visit. cas just goes with it. they always sleep in their pyjamas, and dean occasionally in his underwear when it's hot, so cas just figures they're friends who sleep in the same bed. dean has been so lonely his whole life, after all. dean sometimes puts on slow music and asks cas to dance, and cas is hesitant because he can't dance, but he figures dean needs casual touch and softness in his life, so he obliges. and then one day dean says "we should get married", and cas blue screens because he doesn't understand which need of dean's this is covering. his need for stability and family, perhaps, but he thought the house had been enough. so he just says "what?" and dean seems disappointed by that, and asks with a pout, "don't you want to?". cas is confused, but he answers honestly. "i do. i just don't understand why." dean seems confused too, but he presses on. "well, we've been together for almost a year now, and let's be honest we were basically together for twelve years before that, so i think it's time. plus i heard there are benefits, for like taxes and stuff. not that we pay that, but it could come in handy, i don't know." he searches cas' eyes, and cas' brain is going hold on a minute man. hold on a minute. dean asks again, "don't you want to?", and cas has to ask. "dean. when you say we've been together, what do you mean?" and dean is like, "i mean, like, dating? like a couple? right?" and when cas keeps looking at him with goldfish eyes he panics and goes, "oh god. haven't we? cas. we're together, right? i love you, you love me, all that? you haven't changed your mind on that, have you??" and cas about loses it like "what do you mean you love me??? when have you ever mentioned that?? dean, i thought we were just friends who lived together, i thought-" and now it's dean's turn to go "now hold on a minute man... you- what?? cas, we sleep in the same bed! we have breakfast together every morning! we've got a fucking garden!!" and cas just looks at dean stupidly and says, "but. we've never kissed? you sleep in your underwear! you've never said-" and he cuts himself off before he loses his damn mind because what??? so dean goes "oh. but you've been sleeping in pyjamas. and you've never tried to kiss me, or touch me. i tried it, with the dancing, but it was clear you were only doing it because i asked, so i didn't press it..." and cas does the goldfish bit a few more times before metaphorically shaking his head straight and saying "so, to clarify. we're a couple. and you think we should get married. and you want to kiss me?". dean laughs incredulously and says "yeah, pretty much. you okay with that?" and cas says yes. so dean kisses him. and wowza. cas would love to keep doing that forever. and well, apparently he can, because they're getting married.

[deancasforcutie]

#YES #because that's the thing #they both love each other and knew the other loved them #but the *how* was in the air #Cas got to specify but Dean didn't. That's it #and it drives me nuts when people misquote and/or get mad at Jensen for his take wrt Dean's thoughts about Cas's feelings #because it felt like such a '...well duh' thing to me #bc of course Dean 'everyone leaves me' Winchester would be flabbergasted that a being with millennia behind him would choose him #and wonder exactly in what way #like... I have read that in fic. More than once #ugh anyway (via @ironworked)

Let me debunk a few more misinformation things about what Misha or Jensen say about Destiel. (Bolding some particularly relevant things I really want people to notice).

At Darklight Con Nov 8, 2020, Misha firmly said Cas's confession was about romantic feelings for Dean. (Notably, this is a European con, not CE in the US). Misinformation has sometimes been spread that Misha said Cas's confession wasn't romantic. Not true.

Misha then added that in his "interpretation" it was "unrequited" but continued on that "I'm speculating" and "I don't know what's in Dean's head. And Cas doesn't know." Misinformation has gotten around that Misha ever confirmed that Dean absolutely isn't in love with Cas back.

He then said the same things Jensen has said about supporting people's interpretations. They align on this viewpoint. (Antis don't want to listen, it's inconvenient for them).

He confirmed that Jensen was all in supporting Cas's confession scene. And that Jensen was told 3 months in advance. Since some have tried to claim it was sprung on Jensen at the last minute, a week before filming or something, and it was all an evol nefarious plot to lie to Jensen, trick him, and ambush him.

I mean, come tf on.

Jensen had three months to think about it.

And it's not only common practice on TV to have actors not know things too far in advance so their performances can be as spontaneous as possible, Jensen himself has said it's his own practice not to read ahead, so Dean's reactions can be as spontaneous as possible, and Jensen was in fact was given more than the usual amount of lead time about Cas's confession.

And was all in.

But especially interesting to me is how Jensen and Misha's comments mirror each other's take about the other's character.

Jensen and Misha have both told us they talked about Destiel.

Am I being clear enough here? They have talked about it. With each other. Often. They have an understanding among each other. (Yet antis seem to be in complete rampaging denial about this little fact).

And Jensen and Misha's takes often complement each other's, fit each other's on certain points, or even align via different styles and slightly different approaches and takes but actually boil down in essence to the same thing, plus both of them keep saying to fans...run with your interpretation.

It's like...both of them were trying to hand it to us, in any way they could manage, despite all those network shenanigans where it's not going to be acknowledge on any official SPN PR (like DVD set extras...and it seems like Misha kinda went, you know what if the network won't back press about this, I'll do it myself so he said things, here and there, to say what this was, dodging the CW sniper).

Misha's take: Cas has no idea what's in Dean's head and Cas doesn't know whether Dean is in love with him romantically the way Cas loves Dean or not. Jensen's take: in Dean's pov, because of Cas being an angel, assumption that his love is so cosmic and unfathomable no human can grasp it, so Dean has no clue as to the specific nature of those feelings for him. Mirroring!!!

(Side note...there's plenty of room here for an interpretation that Cas did know how loved he is at the moment The Empty took him. And I think that too...but that doesn't mean he knows Dean is romantically in love with him back, just that Dean loves him, period).

BTW, Jensen never said anything about how he played things wrt Dean's feelings for Cas, what he said was he never played Dean knowing Cas was in love with Dean (because Dean didn't know Cas was in love with him!!!!).

(And omfg I am so sick and tired of seeing Jensen misquoted about that, and it's never done with good faith motives, ever.)

It's about what Dean didn't know. It's about what Cas didn't know.

Which is the actual plot!! We watched!!! Dean and Cas not realizing the other one is in love with him is just so *chef's kiss* exactly miscommunication destihell. Was always part of the story, how many times did we talk about this ourselves?

Receipts below.

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 18- Master!Miguel x Maid!Reader

"Did you hear? Another maid got fired for trying to flirt with the master." One of the head maids whispered. Another sighed,

"That's five this month. When are these young girls going to learn?"

"What about (Y/n)? She's been here for a while, has she made any comments about our master?"

"Thank goodness no. She is so focused on work that the poor girl might never get a boyfriend!"

        You frowned as you listened to the head maids chatter. You moved away from the wall you were hiding behind. You had no choice but to focus on work because of your bills. It would be a lie if you said you were not interest in the master of his household. Your master, Miguel O'Hara, was a wealthy man who always disappeared for business work. No one questioned anything. You were all hired to keep his mansion clean and tidy.

        Your job was to clean the main dining room. Due to other young maids, no one but the head maids were allowed to clean the master's bedroom. It was too dangerous. It was obvious as to why. The master was tall, toned and handsome. The only time you truly got to see him was when he returned home. Everyone in the mansion greeted him. You always tried to glance at him any other time, but you were afraid of getting caught and fired.

        A soft sigh escaped your lips as you thought about what the head maids said. You wanted a boyfriend, but it felt impossible. Every time you went on a date, something would happen to the person you were seeing. You started to wonder if it was you. As you walked down the hall, you heard a low grunt. Confused, you followed the strange noise and stopped in front of your master's room. You were told to stay as far away from here.

"Um, M-Master, are you okay?" You hesitantly asked, more worried about getting fired.

        It went silent. Taking a step back, you looked around to make sure no one saw you. Perhaps now would be best to leave? Right as you were about to turn your heel, the door opened.

"(Y/n)?" Miguel groaned lowly, leaning against the doorframe. You gulped, staring at him since he looked like he was in pain,

"Are you okay, master?" You asked.

        God, he looked so sexy. His shirt was undone, exposing his toned chest. Miguel was panting for air and sweat was rolling down his forehead. Realizing that your master was in pain, you immediately panicked.

"Master, shall I fetch you some medication? You don't look well," 

"It's just a headache," Miguel told you before sighing, "How are you with head massages?"

"Excuse me?" You were caught off guard by the question. Miguel faced you,

"Medicine won't work, but I'll be better with a head massage."

"Oh, um, I can try. If not, I'm sure one of the head maids ca-"

"I'm asking you. Not them."

        You flinched towards his demand. Agreeing to his request, you followed your master into his bedroom. The one place that all those other maids had failed to enter. You hesitantly followed him, taking in every little detail. The room smelled so good. Hopefully, this won't get you fired. You watched as Miguel laid against the couch, patting the space above his head. 

        You were nervous. What if you did a horrible job? Sitting down, you scooted closer and gulped as your master placed his head on your lap. He was so close! You inhaled softly before starting to rub your fingers against his forehead. You're watched enough videos, so hopefully you could copy what you saw. Hearing his rumbling groan, you bit your lower lip. God, he was so hot.

         Miguel groaned lowly as he relaxed to your touch. His headaches have been getting worse with his workload lately. That and the fact that you kept trying to date men who weren't good enough for you. With all the drama with other maids trying ti flirt with him, Miguel never had a chance to talk to you. You, the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on. You, the determined worker. You, the woman he wanted. Miguel was thankful that you passed by his door. This was pleasant.

"Is this alright, master? Am I doing okay?" You asked.

Master.

        That word rolled so nicely off your lips. Miguel lowered his hand to hide his growing erection. Oh how he wanted to hear you cry for him. To drill you with his dick as you called him, master.

"Si. I'm feeling better already," He lowered his voice.

        Miguel was just happy to have his head on your lap. Like a soft cushion. He needed you to keep visiting him. He may be the master of this mansion, but he was still a man. Closing his eyes, Miguel relaxed under your touch. He was going to get used to this.

---------------

        You tried to hide your smile as you hurried to Miguel's room with his dinner. Ever since he had you massage his head, Miguel had requested you to do for stuff for him. It made your heart flutter that you were getting close to him. All of the head maids shook their heads towards ypu getting cozy with the master, but hell! He requested you!

"Master! I've brought your dinner!" You chirped, knocking befoer entering. Miguel was sitting on his couch,

"(Y/N), you look awfully cheerful today." He said, adoring your smile. You placed his meal in front of him, "Do tell," Miguel loved to hear you ramble about your day.

"Well, I finally paid off one of my bills!" You chirped before hesitating, "That and...my last date asked me for another date. I was kind of wor-"

"Que?" Miguel stopped you in your tracks, "He asked for a second date?"

You could hear Miguel's angry tone, "Um...Yes?" You flinched as Miguel stood and approached you.

"You're not going out with him," He said firmly and stroked your cheek, "You're too good for him."

        That and Miguel was mad that the fucker dared to contact you again after he paid him. Miguel made sure to keep you single so that he could have you to himself.

"M-Master?"

        You glanced up at Miguel, leaning your head into the palm of his hand. They were so big and warm. You could feel your heart race as Miguel moved his hand to your waist. You could feel the tension. Miguel pulled you towards his bed and sat down. His grip still tight against your waist, your uniform blocking his touch.

"(Y/N), tell me what I am to you." Miguel's tone was needy. It made you melt.

"My Master."

"Mhm, you do as I say, right?" He started to draw circles around your waist, "You're not going to date anyone because you're going to be mine. Understood?"

"Y-Yes, Master," You bit your lower lip as he lowered you to his lap.

"I want you to take care of, (Y/N)." Miguel whispered in your ear, "Let me hear your voice."

        You started to tremble as Miguel stroked the outline of your dress. He leaned forward to kiss your neck, removing your collar with his teeth. You let out a small whimper as Miguel sucked on your neck. Heat started to form between your legs as you felt his erection grind against your panties. Tingles shot up your spine as your head flung back from pleasure. Miguel hummed, enjoying your body riding against his hips. Your damp panties starting to stain his pants.

        It was still not enough. You moaned lowly as Miguel brought his hand to your cunt, moving your panties aside to rub your folds. You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as you began to ride his hand. His long fingers teasing your entrance, making you clench nothing but air. His hot breathe against your ear as you whimpered from his teasing.

"You have to ask for it." He said with a smirk.

"P-Please, Master."

"That's right, keep begging me." You moaned as Miguel entered two fingers into your pussy, pumping them against your tight gummy walls, "Look at you, about to cum on your master's hand."

"Master~" You tensed as his fingers curled against your pussy, causing you to orgasm, "Hah, Master!"

"Good girl, (Y/N). Always a hard worker," He praised, removing his hand to undo his pants, "Will you continue to work hard for me?"

"Yes, Master."

        You took a moment to catch your breathe as you positioned yourself above him. You moved his hand away from his cock, grabbing it instead. You were hesitant, but after seeing the lust in his eyes, you folded. Pumping his dick a few times, you cried out as he started to stretch your pussy. You were slow, but you kept going down on him, shaking from the intense feeling. Your hands rested against Miguel's chest, trying to finish putting his dick inside you.

        Miguel let out a grunt as he helped. He thrusted upward, causing you to cry loudly. His cock shoved so deep inside you that it made your vision blur for a second. He demanded that you move, to which to listened. Your cries became loud moans as you bounced on his dick. Your body leaned back as you rode him, pleasure overtaking you. Miguel held your waist, one of his thumbs rubbing your clit in the process. This made you cum again.

"Master!"

"Don't stop until your work is done," Miguel gave you an order.

        You whined, slowing down from your high. Miguel gripped your waist, rubbing your clit harder as he started to thrust. Your moans were music to his ears. No other man was going to have you. Not when you worked for him. Not when he was fucking your pussy this good. Changing positions, Miguel had your stomach against the bed, drilling you from behind. The strings of your maid uniform giving him even more of a high.

"Fuck, look at you taking your master's dick so well. Does it feel good? Being fucked by your master?"

"Yes, Master~! Please give me more, Master~!" You begged, gripping onto the bedsheets. Miguel pounded your pussy, making sure to fill you with his cum,

"You'll listen to your master's orders then, right? No dating anyone. This pussy is mine."

"Yes, Master!" You trembled as he kept slapping his dick into you.

"You're my personal maid. I'll take care of all your bills and you. You deserve everything, mi amor (my love)." He groaned, watching your pussy suck his dick more, "Fuck, you look so good with my dick in you. My perfect girl."

"Master!"

        Miguel had you working hard throughout the night. He made sure to take care of you and your issues. You were his personal maid, making sure to take care of all of his 'issues'. Eventually, you graduated from his maid to his wife. 

"C'mon, baby. Say it for me." Miguel groaned as he had you on your back, his dick pounding your pussy, "Just once more."

"Master~" You purred, arching your back as you orgasmed. Miguel moaned in response, giving you his fill,

"That's right, baby. I'm your Master."

[starlvcied]

THINGS THEY DO THAT YOU FIND CUTE (CLASS 1-A) - [PT. 1]

characters ; izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugou, shoto todoroki, eijiro kirishima, denki kaminari, tenya iida, hanta sero, mina ashido, tsuyu asui, ochaco uraraka, kyoka jirou, momo yaoyorozu

g/n reader, no warnings.

✮⋆˙ - izuku midoriya : izuku physically cannot stand still. he has to be moving somehow, but he isn't really aware of this. he tends to have a habit of playing with his hair, whether it's running his fingers through it or twirling his finger around a few strands, you find it being the cutest thing ever. you never point it out though, because you know he would burst into a flustered mess and stop whenever he catches himself doing it. you find it cute, but he would find it so embarassing.

✮⋆˙ - katsuki bakugou : we all know this man is great in the kitchen. so, whenever you catch him cooking a meal for you, (or himself, mostly himself...) all you could do is smile. on one occasion, you were out running errands. you had come across an apron with the lettering "kiss the cook" on it. you picked it up with a smirk, imagined how he'd look in it, but you had figured he would just scold you for it. so, you put it back.

✮⋆˙ - shoto todoroki : he's so chronically offline. whenever you ask to do something trendy with him, he tilts his head at the idea and raises a brow at you. whenever you use any form of slang, he's just as confused. you try to explain, he still doesn't get it. urban dictionary is his best friend. the reason you don't explain this kind of stuff to him is because of that silly, clueless face he makes when he has no idea what you're talking about. it's a foreign language to him, but he tries his hardest to understand you.

✮⋆˙ - eijiro kirishima : kiri loves to manhandle you. tossing you over his shoulder, tackling you, throwing you onto the couch, anything like that leaves you a giggling mess. he knows you love it, too. he enjoys it just as much as you do.

✮⋆˙ - denki kaminari : he is always smiling. that has to be one of your favorite things about him. he has the teethiest smile after he does literally anything, especially when he does things to impress you. he has the most contagious smile you've ever seen. you love to see him smile, and you would do anything to make sure he's always cheesing.

✮⋆˙ - tenya iida : he is so damn respectful. i know we all are aware of this fact already but i want to put emphasis on it. walking down the street, he'd always help an elderly person. walking in/out of a store, of course he'd hold the door for the person behind you. he never forgets his manners. this is your favorite part about him, all you can do is admire.

✮⋆˙ - hanta sero : sero is not afraid to make things for you. you having a bad day? oh, he actually made you guys matching bracelets. he has a bead and string collection because he knows you love jewelry. he's also great at origami, he's always available to give you something. he can definitely crochet. you still sleep with the fat elephant he made you. you think its adorable, and you keep everything he gives you.

✮⋆˙ mina ashido : you love it when she asks to dance with you. she holds her hand out to you with a grin before pulling you into a tight embrace. it doesn't matter what the fuck kind of music is playing, megan thee stallion or lana del rey, you two will be dancing. she asks you so unexpectedly, but you don't complain. there will never be a boring moment with mina.

✮⋆˙ : tsuyu asui : tsu isn't much of a talker, but that definitely changes once she's with you. you guys have occasional yap sessions, some of them pertaining to nothing specific at all, you two just talk just to talk. you wanna gossip? she's all ears. you have something on your mind you think is stupid? she needs to hear it. she always listens to you, even if what you say makes no sense. she's so interested in what you have to say, you never feel like you're talking to a brick wall when you're with her.

✮⋆˙ - ochaco uraraka : karaoke. car karaoke is your guy's personal favorite. only one of your hands on the wheel, all four windows down, music to the max. usually, you would find this embarrassing. but ochaco always seems so happy singing with you. katy perry, wave to earth, laufey, taylor swift, red velvet, any artist of your choice. she loves listening to music with you, often sharing earbuds. but she definitely prefers borderline screaming in the car with you. you secretly admire each other, taking short, (maybe not so short) glances at one another. the way she's enjoying herself makes your heart melt knowing how comfortable she is with you.

✮⋆˙ kyoka jirou : she obviously plays her instruments to you. you love when she shows you snippets on some things she's been working on. the way she's so passionate and absolutely amazing at the thing she enjoys leaves you in a trance. her voice is music to your ears, and a soft smile grazes her lips when she notices how hard you're staring at her. if she could play you songs forever, she definitely would.

✮⋆˙ momo yaoyorozu : like sero, her love language is gift giving. since she's rich, she used to often travel before attending U.A. she has countless souvenirs from a variety of other countries, some you didn't even know existed. she also loves taking you on shopping sprees, she doesn't mind at all. momo does so much for you, and all you can do to return the favor is show her an endless amount of affection. you feel guilty she does all this stuff for you, but she assures you that it's okay and she loves doing this for you and seeing you happy. your heart drops to your knees. (in a good way, of course. <3)

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

Jealousy, jealousy - Azriel x reader

Summary: The whole inner circle is tired of you and Azriel flirting with each other, without acting on it. So Rhys decided to help his sister and Azriel with that, by planning a special birthday party for her. Based on this request.

Warnings: Smut! 18+! Az is jealous (but it's fluff)

Azriel couldn’t stop watching you. Again.

You were sitting on the couch in front of him at the townhouse, silently watching your brother, Rhys, talk. Azriel loved watching you, your shy, yet clever eyes were always so observant. On top of that, you looked beautiful tonight. You wore a dress that looked like it was made of starlight and your pretty lips were painted in a color that made-

“You’re daydreaming again, Az,” Rhys interrupted his thoughts, making Az’s eyes quickly avert his gaze from y/n, to her brother sitting next to her.

“Probably dreaming about his undying love for Truth-Teller,” y/n smiled. The shy, yet flirty smile that always made Az go week in the knees.

Before he could even try to suppress it, a wave of warmth filled Az’s cheeks, exposing his adoration. You were the only person who could make him blush like that. It has been this way since the first day he’d met you, when you were teenagers, which is already centuries ago. Rhys only introduced his sister years after he’d met Azriel and Cassian. She was still young, but so was he. It wasn’t hard to fall in love with her. The way she was hiding behind her brother, shy, yet curious, peeking behind his shoulder at the two Illyrians standing in front of her. Suddenly a smile was on her curious face, and the first thing you’d said was: “Are those shadows yours? They’re very beautiful.”

Since that moment, Az was a goner. He never acted on it though. Too scared, too insecure and too worried he would ruin your friendship. It had been the same for years. The flirting, the teasing. But never more than that. 

Until a few months ago. When the bond snapped.

In that moment, Azriel couldn’t be any happier. It all made sense now. But then he realized, it didn’t snap for you. You didn’t seem to know. And it happened all over again, he was scared. What if you didn’t want him as your mate? What if it would freak you out? And what if Rhys would hate him for it?

“You’re still staring at me, Azzie” he heard y/n’s soft voice, yet again interrupting his thoughts. He looked confused for a moment, as if finally realizing where he was. “Oh yes, I'm sorry, you do look beautiful tonight y/n, you can’t blame me,” he smiled nonchalantly. It was always like this, the flirting and the compliments. It was normal.

“You look great too Az,” you returned the smile. Another wave of warmth heated his face. He quickly tried to hide the flushed cheeks, when fortunately, Cassian guided the attention to him. “So, what are we going to do for your birthday tomorrow y/n?” Cas asked. 

“Oh, I don’t know, I guess we could go out or something? Nothing special, just like we always do,” you answered.

Rhys clicked his tongue at that. “Nothing special? My dear sister, I think you don’t know me that well then. We have the perfect surprise for you.” That was something new. “Do we?” Az asked confused. “Well, now I’m curious,” Feyre smiled.

What Az didn’t know is that the whole inner circle knew about his “secret” feelings for you, only Az and y/n were oblivious. Honestly, his friends didn’t know how the observant shadowsinger didn’t notice how obvious it was. He always gets shy and smiled with y/n. It was a mystery how he didn’t realize the fact he had a lovesick look all over his face when he’s watching her. So Rhys, the good brother he is, decided to come up with a plan. The easy strategies didn’t work, so he decided to use the one thing Az couldn’t hide, jealousy.

*******

When it was finally the evening of your birthday, it turned out Rhys’ surprise, indeed, was special. Your brother had decided to take you all to some dance show’ but it wasn’t some normal dance show, you realized when you saw the poster hanging on the door of the club. It were only male dancers. Male dancers with not so many clothes, it seemed. “Now I’m really curious brother” you sighed. “You’ll love it.”

Your brother was right, it was so much fun. You ate and drank with the inner circle, watching the show from your shared table. They even got you a cake with fireworks. But that wasn’t the only surprise.

You were all cheering when one of the dancers came to you. He was muscled and had beautiful, curly blonde hair. Before you could process what was happening, he grabbed your hand and pulled you on the stage with him. The male put you on a chair in the middle of the stage and started moving around you, your face flushed immediately.

He smirked at you, showing off his impressive moves. You couldn’t help but smile at him. It was fun to let go for a moment and enjoy the silliness of it all. The whole inner circle was cheering for you.

Az on the other hand, didn’t like it that much. He balled his hands into fists, when he saw the way the male grabbed your hand and guided you to the stage. He gritted his teeth, the way you blushed, the way he was moving around you and even touched you… And then you smiled at that male.

Az had to muster every ounce of self-control. He did all he could to not just get up on that stage, and bring you back to their table. He wanted to be the one to touch you like that. He wanted to be the one to make you smile. 

Even after the show was over and you were brought back to your original spot, Az couldn’t shake off the jealous feeling. His whole body was still tense and he had a dark look on his face.

“Something the matter, Azriel?” Rhys smirked teasingly, grabbing his friend's shoulder, knowing damn well why he was acting like this. “No.” Azriel answered shortly, taking another big sip from his drink.

******

Y/n was so tired when she arrived at her bedroom. She sat on her bed, taking her shoes off with a relieved sigh, ready to go to sleep. But suddenly she heard someone knock on the door. It was Azriel.

“Hey Az, what are you doing here?” 

“Just wanted to say goodnight after such a… special… birthday evening,” he grinned.

“Yeah it was… something,” you giggle. You sat next to each other on the bed in silence for a moment.

“Did you think he was hot?” Az blurted out. “Who?” you asked confused. “That guy, the one who danced for you,” he grumbled. “Oh, I-I don’t know, he was fine,” you faltered. 

Az didn’t answer. “Are you okay Azzie? You seem tense.” You rubbed his shoulder gently, trying to comfort him.

“I didn’t like it” he stated. Y/n was confused. “W-were you… were you jealous?” Az only sighed, looking down.

“It was just, he was… he shouldn’t touch you like that” he tried to explain without making his jealousy too obvious. You were disappointed for a moment, he probably just didn’t like it because he saw you as his little sister, you thought. Because he wanted to protect you. “I’m sorry Az,” you silently said. “No, no, don’t apologize y/n, it’s my fault, I’m acting stupid.”

“I get that you feel like this, you see me as a... sister, you feel protective over me or something, I get it Az,” you sighed. Azriel looked up, his hazel eyes carefully watching you. He frowned, “Do you really think that’s how I feel about you?” It’s silent for a moment. “I was jealous y/n, very jealous” he finally confessed.

“Y-you were?” you stroked his cheek softly, fingertips tracing the freckles down his neck. Azriel nodded, you looked in each others eyes for a long moment. His pupils dilated, a hungry look on his face. Then the room suddenly filled with the smell of your arousal. “You want to… you want to show me what you look like without that shirt then?” you hesitated. “Yeah? You want that?” he smirked. “Yes” you answered breathlessly. 

Az slowly took his shirt off, your eyes tracing the lines of his muscles hungrily. “Much better than that male,” you sighed. “C’mere” he groaned, surprising you by grabbing your hips and lifting your body on top of him in one move. You were straddling him now, arms tightly wrapped around his neck.

And then his lips were on yours, hungrily moving against each other. He grabbed your ass, squeezing it gently. A gasp left your mouth, “Azzie, Az please.” You started moving against him, pressed so close to each other, yet it wasn’t enough. 

“What do you want, baby?” he whispered against your lips. “I want you.”

“And what exactly do you want from me? Tell me y/n,” he groaned.

“Your cock, I want to feel you in me, Azriel, please” you begged.

“So pretty when you beg like that, darling. But not so fast.” He wrapped his arms tightly around your back and turned you around. You’re back now against the bed, with Azriel’s body hovering above you. His wings were spread wide and his shadows were moving around you. Silently asking their master for permission to touch you too.

They helped him with getting you out of your birthday dress, the soft tendrils caressed your skin so deliciously. The shadows danced around your whole body, touching you almost everywhere. You felt a familiar heat growing in lower stomach.

The male above you spread your legs wider, placing soft kisses closer and closer to where you wanted him most.

You grabbed his dark locks in your hand, eagerly trying to guide him to your pussy. “Patience, baby, patience,” he calmly said.

His hands traveled up your body, gently grabbing your breasts, his palm stroking your nipple. “So pretty for me,” he cooed. 

And then he finally pressed his soft lips against your pussy, a load moan left your mouth. He started to lick like a starved male. His lips softly wrapping around your clit, sucking messily. He then wrapped your legs around his head, locking in his face in between them. He groaned into your cunt, “Azzie, yes, feels so good”.

Then you noticed that he was grinding against the mattress, trying to find some relief too. He was already so turned on, just from the taste of your pussy. “I want you to feel good too,” you whined. Azriel replaced his tongue with his fingers, the scarred skin softly rubbing your clit, “Oh I already feel amazing, baby, don't worry.”

You gasped when you felt his finger enter your pussy, stroking the soft walls. Your breathing grew louder. “Yeah, you like that?” He chuckled. 

It felt amazing, but you wanted him in you, you wanted him pussy drunk, feral for you. So you could only do one thing, touch his wings. 

You gently stroked the less sensitive part on the outside of his wing, testing the waters. He groaned, “Oh baby, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

You decided to stroke a more sensitive part, making him grab your thighs harshly. Az sat up. “Come here, you dirty little girl,” he said huskily. “Do you want me to fuck you y/n? Is that what you want, huh?”

“Yes, please, yes” you whined.

“How could I deny that pretty face? My beautiful little girl,” he cooed, leaning in closer to press his lips against yours again. You helped him pull his pants down, his impressive length sprang free. You gulped. He was long.

"Don’t worry, if you want to stop we’ll stop” he murmured into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin gently. “No, no! I can handle it,” you claimed, your hand wrapping around him, eager to feel the soft skin in your hands. He groaned into your ear, “Shit, you have no idea how turned on I am right now.” You giggled, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, already soaking wet.

“Are you sure?” he whispered. “Yes, I’m sure Az, want to feel you” 

He slowly entered you, sucking your nipples as a distraction for the pain. But it was a good kind of pain, you wanted more. So you grabbed his ass, trying to push him deeper into you. "Don't... don't be scared, it feels good," you said in between heavy breaths.

“Needy little girl” he grinned. His rhythm picked up and his thrusts started to get harder. His hips slamming against yours

“You feel so good, this pussy is mine isn’t it? Only mine” he whimpered into your ear. “Yes, Az, my pussy is yours. I'm yours,” you moaned. Az started to fuck you harder, “Say it again” he demanded.

 “I’m yours, only yours Azriel” 

“That’s right, good girl,” he moaned, putting one of your legs over his shoulder. The new angle made you gasp. Your places your hands against his chest, your nails softly stroking down his abs.

Azriel was mesmerized, his eyes fixated on your swollen lips, the lips he couldn't believe he just kissed, and the way your tits bounced because of the force of his thrusts.

He looked so handsome like this. His messy hair falling over his face, his eyes half-lidded, the blush on his cheeks and the heavy breaths that left his mouth.

“I’m already so close Azzie,” you whined. "Already?” He teased. You nodded. “I want you to come with me,” you pleaded, one of your hands lifting up again to stroke the inside of his wing. Az moaned at the feeling, the arm that held him up collapsed beneath him, his body softly falling against yours.

His chest was now pressed against you, the position was so intimate. His thrusts started to get sloppy. “Baby, baby…” he whined softly in your ear. Both drunk on the feeling of each other.

His fingers circled your clit, making you moan his name like a prayer, over and over. The familiar feeling coiled in your lower belly, finally snapping when he nibbled on your earlobe. High-pitched moans filled the room, your orgasm washing over you like a big wave. Azriel moaned with you, his brows knitted together.

“Where do you want me? On your tits? On your pussy? In your pretty mouth?”

“In me, I want you in me Az, please,” you whined, craving to feel more of him, to be claimed by him. You wanted to be his the way no one ever was before. Az groaned in answer, heavy breaths tumbling out of his mouth. You felt him release inside your pussy, moaning your name against your cheek, riding out his high slowly. 

Azriel fell next to you with a loud sigh. His arms tightly wrapped around you. He placed a soft kiss against your neck and stroked your inner arm. “You don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming about this.” he confessed. “Me too” you answered. You should probably talk about this, but for now, you just wanted to sleep. Comfortably in Azriel’s warm arms.

********

The next morning, y/n was watching Azriel sleep next to her. Her hand stroked his naked chest while her other hand played with his soft dark hair. He looked like an angel, laying there, so peaceful. 

And suddenly, she felt a tug in her chest. A thread, a feeling like no other. Y/n gasped, making Az’s eyes open slowly. “Good morning” he whispered with a smile. Y/n only stared at him.

She couldn’t believe it. He was her mate. Her mate.

“Y-you’re my mate” she whispered. Az sat up immediately, grabbing her cheek gently. “It snapped? It finally snapped for you too?” He whispered, his eyes getting teary. “You knew?” 

“I’ve known for a few months now, but before last night, I didn’t think you’d want me” he murmured. “Oh Az, of course I want you, I’ve loved you since we were teenagers and met in Windhaven, I’ve loved you since I noticed the beautiful, smart and compassionate male hidden behind those shadows,” you smiled. “I love you” he smiled, kissing you softly.

An hour later you went downstairs together. The rest of the Inner Circle was already in the living room, doing each their own thing.

Rhys’ eyes immediately went to your intertwined hands, an unreadable look on his face. “Rhys, before you say something, I want you to know I would never hurt your sister and I am-“ Az quickly tried to explain. But Rhys interrupted him with a voluminous laugh.

“Finally!” He smiled, getting up to face you both. “I’ve been trying to get you together for the last year, but you both were so oblivious” he teasingly rolled his eyes and opened his arms, hugging you both. “Yeah honestly Az, it was about damn time” Cassian smirked.

[beautysamour]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑: 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬

— 𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

“Why?” Your boyfriend looked at you with a raised brow, two silicone toys in each of his hands.

You let out a shaky breath, the entire situation making it difficult for you to breath. You weren’t sure how Miguel was going to react when you brought using toys during sex—he’s always been the type to prefer using himself to make you cum, he took pride in it.

He straightens his back, “If I haven’t been making you feel good—“

“That’s not it,” you interrupt, taking one of the vibrators out of his hand, “I just thought it’d be fun to try,” suddenly you couldn’t look him in the eye, “a—and mj got it for us as a gift, it’d be rude to give it back after accepting it.”

You peek up at Miguel and find him looking at the sex toy in his hand. You hold your breath hoping that he’d—

“Alright. Are these the only ones?”

Without realizing it, your back straightens and your eyes have a sudden glow in them that was dulled by the previous nervousness, “For now, yeah.”

He chuckled at your wording, you planned on getting more?

“Great,” he sticks out his hand with the vibrator on his palm, “We can try these out after the dinner, yeah?”

Your body deflates at his words. After dinner? You can’t promise you’ll be able to wait that long, not with the other vibrator in your possession.

Well, that’s only if you stayed here.

He leans forward attempting to press a kiss on your forehead before his body falls against yours, his eyes fall down to your hand gripping onto his tie as he stops his tip with a hand against the wall.

His eyes flicker to yours seeping with confusion, “What was that for?”

You hum innocently, questioning his question.

Suddenly you release your grip on his tie, softly patting it against his chest as you smooth out the wrinkles. “You might be gone long—no—you will be gone long,” you rest your other hand on his chest, and start tracing circles with the vibrator on his left tit, “and the dinner will get rather boring pretty quickly.”

You lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a kiss against his jaw, “And the house gets lonely without you,” you press another kiss along his jaw, “And I’ll get bored—“

“Ok,” Miguel roughly breathes out, his large hands rest on your hips—the other vibrator still in his hand, “Do you want to come with me then?”

You smile. “I’d love too.”

;;

“I understand, Mr. O’Hara, but with the recent hit the industry took…”

You gripped onto Miguel’s hand as your vision went blurry, “Mig…Miguel,” you bite your tongue hoping the suppress the moan that nearly came out.

The coworker who was talking turned his head to you, “Oh, Mrs. O’Hara? Is everything alright?”

Your grip strengthened around your boyfriend’ hand as sweat started to trail down your throat and your pussy clenched around the toy.

“Mrs. O’Hara?”

You forced yourself to look up, to look at the coworker, and to speak. Your lips, both of them, trembled as they opened—a moan sitting prettily on the tip of your tongue.

“A—I—“

Your boyfriend was so sweet, so loving, and so attentive. He knew you were close, you just needed a little more, and he was more than happy to help you out. Especially when you were so obviously struggling to get any noise out of your mouth.

He played with the remote in his other hand under the table, pretending to look at you with worry in his eyes as a beautiful moan rips out your throat.

You pray that when you get up there won’t be a puddle of cum.

“Uh—uhm—Mrs. O’Hara—?”

“Pardon me,” Miguel heroically interrupts as his holds your close to his, “My wife isn’t feeling well, could you excuse us for a bit?”

“Oh—of course, yes.” The coworkers all move out of the way, making a clear path for the both of you to go through.

You cling onto him as you try to stand up, your legs tremble as you take your first step. “Miguel,” you breath out, “Ca—can we go, ah, home?”

You close your eyes, your over sensitive pussy is able to track every movement the little toy inside of you makes—it makes you pull away from Miguel, you’re body acting as it would whenever he’s in you.

Your heart breaks a little when you hear him laugh—and your legs nearly give out as the toy goes up to its next setting, “Miguel!”

He ignores your cry, maneuvering you around the tables until the bathrooms are right in front of you. He hums a tune, almost mockingly, as he opens the family bathroom, “Come on tesoro, get in.”

An almost heart wrenching whine leaves your throat as Miguel locks the door. You fall to the floor and your mouth opens, a silent moan comes out as you cum on your drenched underwear. Your back arches as the toy never stops it’s movement.

Miguel tsks as he kneels next to you, “What’s wrong cariño,” he feigns innocence, “Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Can’t,” you choke out, “Ca—can’t!”

He holds the remote out, purposely putting in the your line of sight. He twirls it around his fingers, “You said you wanted to go home? Thought you wanted to come with me, tesoro.”

You grind your pussy against the cold floor as you feel your body start to heat up.

“Miguel,” you cry, “Why are you being mean?”

You lean into his touch as his hand cups your cheek to make you look at him. He looks at you, eyes soft as he rubs your cheek.

You turn your head to press a kiss on his palm, stupidly taking this act from him as kindness.

Your head drops immediately, tighs pressing against each other as the vibrations in your pussy get more intense.

“F—fuck.”

Miguel presses a kiss to the top of your head as he watches you crumble underneath him, “Sorry tesoro, but you’re just so pretty like this.”

[hellsgreatest]

I fell asleep last night thinking of a concept episode.

Basically it’s just an episode with Jack holding a camera and filming everyone’s daily routines, like a home video. He just follows them around and they’re just so confused what he’s doing and ignores it. He introduces them and is like “here are my dads :3 and here’s me!!!” and he turns the camera back to himself, smiling and then he turns the camera back around and they’re just all smiling at him. And then the episode continues with like minor conflicts like just fighting n stuff. But like the way families interact with each other.

This part is semi lame but like he would definitely capture like a weird destiel moment. Like they accidentally bumped into each other the way they do on romcoms or just a moment of them sitting awkwardly close in silence and Jack records from around a corner and he just giggles and they both just stare at him, and then the camera cuts.

Jack would also record their daily routines and narrate. “Cas is always the one up first because he doesn’t need to sleep. Sam wakes up early to do is runs.” He just holds the camera with Sam walking up the stairs and he pauses. “Jack, what are you doing?” He somewhat laughs but also is confused. “I’m making a video of our lives!”

GOD I HATE THEM I HATE THEM I HATE THEM

I smiled so big writing this. They are everything to me.

[seumyo]

I WANT TO BE FOREVER YOUNG

PROMPT. How they mourn when you were gone too soon. You did worry about getting old, didn’t you?

FEATURING. Midoriya I., Bakugou K., Todoroki S., Shinsou H.

NOTE. I’m testing the waters with angst content + formatting style for multiple drabbles—so forgive me if it’s not that good!

MIDORIYA IZUKU — Sees you in someone else.

Midoriya Izuku found passion in teaching. It’s a life-changing job that molds each and every student into the person they want to become with the help of people like him.

His students, vibrant and full of life, were so much like his old classmates—and among them was Takashiro Ayane, her laughter light and melodic as she teased one of her friends about their clumsy landing during training.

It reminded him of someone. Someone close.

You.

And the thought always came to him, even when he didn’t mean to. Even at the most random times.

Ayane’s resemblance to you was uncanny. It wasn’t just her kindness or the gentle way she spoke; it was in the way she held herself, her subtle but unwavering resolve. Midoriya could see flashes of you in her—the friend who had once been a constant source of warmth in his turbulent journey at U.A. High.

As Ayane reached up to adjust her headband, smiling brightly, Midoriya felt a pang in his chest. The sight was like a memory brought to life, a reminder of your soft-spoken encouragement and the way she always stood firm despite her fears.

God, it felt like seeing you all over again.

“Sensei!” another student called out, pulling him back to the present. “Did you see that move? I think it might actually work in combat! Or support, if I feel like it.”

Midoriya blinked, shaking off the haze of memories. “Y-Yeah, it looked great!” he replied, mustering enthusiasm. “Your timing’s improving a lot—keep it up!”

He tried to push the thought aside, focusing on the here and now, but it was no use. The resemblance was too striking, and his heart felt heavy with the weight of unspoken grief. You were gone, after all. Gone too soon.

As the students broke into laughter again, something about the carefree sound and the dynamic of his students triggered a reflex. Without thinking, he spoke, his voice soft yet audible enough to be heard.

“[First Name], I—”

Your name left his lips before he realized it, and the world seemed to freeze. The students fell silent, their laughter replaced by curious stares. Ayane tilted her head; confusion could be seen in her face.

Midoriya’s heart sank as he realized his mistake. He quickly forced a smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I mean Takashiro,” he corrected, craning a hand to the back of his neck.

“Sorry about that. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

The students exchanged glances, a few offering polite chuckles before moving on. The moment passed, yet for Midoriya, the weight of it lingered. He stayed behind as the students began their walk back to the main building, his gaze fixed on the ground.

Everything came flooding in his mind. Like a relentless tide that swept him away. Your jokes, your laugh, and the countless little moments that had defined your friendship.

He hadn’t spoken your name aloud in years, not since your passing. Now, saying it felt like reopening an old wound, one he had carefully avoided for so long. But he could only do so much avoidance ‘til he has to terms with it.

“Sensei?”

The gentle voice startled him, and he looked up to see Ayane standing a few steps away. Her expression was concerned; her head tilted slightly as she studied him.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. “You seemed... distracted earlier.”

Midoriya hesitated. The words caught in his throat as he wrestled with how to respond. How could he explain to his student that she reminded him of his dead friend?

What kind of teacher would he be if he were to say that? The awful, grieving kind, he bets.

“I’m fine, Takashiro,” he said finally, forcing a smile. “Just a little tired, that’s all. You know how these long training sessions can be.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced but nodded anyway. “If you ever need to talk, Sensei... we’re here for you too. Fighting!”

“Midoriya, grow a spine! Fighting!”

Her words hit too close to home.

“Thank you,” he could only murmur.

Ayane lingered for a moment before turning to join her classmates. He remained there, rooted to the spot as the sun began to dip lower in the sky. The golden light bathed the empty training grounds, and the silence felt heavier than usual.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve tried to move on, but I see you everywhere. In everything. In everyone.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, a mix of regret and longing washing over him. “You were right about so many things,” he continued, his voice barely audible. “I just wish you were here to see it—to see how far we’ve all come.”

But you weren’t here anymore, and that’s the problem.

Bakugou Katsuki — Mourns you longer than he’d known you.

Cemeteries never brought discomfort to Bakugou. Not until you died, that is.

The place stretches out in solemn silence; the faint rustle of leaves in the hedges are the only sounds he heard as he trudged along the familiar gravel path. His boots made dull, deliberate crunches against the fallen leaves, the heaviness of his steps matching the weight in his chest.

In his hands, he carried the usual offerings: a bouquet of red spider lilies tied neatly with a ribbon, a box of your favorite sweet treats—melon pan today—and the incense sticks he always lit with care. It had been years since your passing, but for Bakugou, the loss felt as raw as if it had been yesterday.

He approached your gravestone, its surface polished and pristine, just as he always left it. Your name was etched into the stone with delicate precision, the sight of it both grounding and crushing. As if to remind him that you weren’t coming back because you’re just here, waiting for someone to visit you.

Bakugou knelt, his movements stiff and reluctant, as though even now he couldn’t fully accept your absence. Why can’t he accept it?

“Yo, dummy,” he muttered under his breath, pulling the lilies from their wrapping and placing them carefully at the vase near the gravestone. He adjusted them twice, three times, until they looked just right. His eyes lingered on the name etched into the cold stone, a bitterness creeping into his tone.

“Brought your damn flowers again. Hope you appreciate it.”

The sarcasm in his words was thinly veiled; beneath it lay the unmistakable ache of someone who had loved and lost far too deeply.

He pulled out the incense sticks next, lighting them with a practiced flick beneath his palm. You would’ve loved to see him do it in person; maybe light up a candle or two when the power goes out during your high school dorm days. The smell of sandalwood quickly mingled with the damp earth, and Bakugou leaned back on his heels, staring at the curling smoke.

“Another week down,” he began, his voice quieter now. “Another round of saving people, making headlines, being the ‘Great Dynamight.’ ” He spat the title out like it was poison.

“It’s what you always said I’d do, isn’t it? Go big; make my mark. But, damn it, [Last Name], none of it means anything without you here to see it.”

He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as the familiar wave of guilt and frustration washed over him. His head dipped as he let out a long, ragged breath.

“I thought time was supposed to make this easier,” Bakugou admitted, his voice rough. “It’s been... what? Seven years now? And every damn day, it still feels like you’re just gonna show up out of nowhere, like you’re gonna annoy the hell outta me with one of your stupid jokes.”

The thought made his lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, though it was laced with sadness. He could almost hear your voice—that gentle yet persistent tone you’d use whenever she tried to drag him along to something.

“C’mon, Bakugou, I’ll need someone to bail me out of jail! You’ll regret it if you don’t come along.”

And you were right. He regretted it now. Every single refusal, every grumbled excuse, every moment he could’ve spent with you and didn’t.

“You were annoying as hell,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But you were... you were good. Too good.” His fists loosened, his hands falling limply to his sides.

“And you didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to go like that.” Bakugou remembers the time he almost stained his conduct by almost killing the villain that got to you.

It’s unfair, isn’t it? The villain got to live behind bars, while you lost yours.

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves in the trees above. Bakugou tilted his head back, glaring up at the overcast sky as though it were to blame for everything.

“They don’t tell you how much it fucking hurts,” he said bitterly. “To lose someone like you. They don’t tell you that the longer it’s been, the harder it gets, ‘cause every year just reminds me of how much more I’ve missed. How much quicker I could’ve been.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small, weathered notebook. It was yours, something your family had found amongst your belongings after you passed. They wanted him to have it since his name was always frequently mentioned. The edges were frayed, the pages creased from countless readings, but it was his most treasured possession.

Bakugou would rather die than even let a single drop of water meet one of its pages.

Flipping it open, he scanned your handwriting, some neat and some looking as though you couldn’t be bothered with basic penmanship. He stopped on a page that always gutted him.

Life’s short. Spend it with the people who matter. Don’t let moments slip away! :P

His thumb brushed over the words, his jaw tightening.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “You don’t have to keep reminding me, you know. I get it. Too late, but I get it.”

He placed the notebook on the gravestone, letting it rest there for a moment before tucking it back into his pocket. His hand lingered on the cold stone, his fingers tracing the engraved letters of your name.

“You were supposed to stick around,” he said softly. “Supposed to keep bugging me, keep dragging me out of my own damn head. Now I’m stuck here, talking to a rock, and it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same.”

The clouds began to part, a faint beam of sunlight breaking through and casting a soft glow over the gravestone. Bakugou stared at it, his eyes unreadable. He’s thinking.

“I’ll keep coming back,” he finally said, his voice steadier now.

“Every week, every month, every damn year. You’re not gonna be forgotten. Not by me.”

He stood slowly, his body heavy with exhaustion and grief. Adjusting the incense sticks and flowers one last time, he stepped back, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“See you next time, dummy,” he murmured, his voice low. “Don’t forget about me or whatever, whever you are.”

As Bakugou walked away, the wind carried the faint scent of incense and the quiet promise of a man who would mourn you longer than he’d ever known you.

TODOROKI SHOUTO — Learns things that reminded him of you.

Todoroki knows that he’s been busy. It’s in the way the white camellias he brought you months ago are now wilted, showing their dried-up state. His fingers brush against the wilted petals, lingering as if to apologize for not visiting sooner.

“I still remember the last thing you said to me,” he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with an ache he couldn’t quite put into words. “It wasn’t even anything serious—just you scolding me for not eating enough during lunch. You were always so good at taking care of me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

He glanced down, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint, bittersweet smile. The image of you—scolding, your hands on your hips as you tried to hide your worry—was etched so vividly into his memory that he could almost hear your voice.

Todoroki’s gaze traveled to the offerings he had brought with him: a fresh bouquet of camellia, a neatly folded scarf he had knitted in one of his new hobbies that he took up classes for, and a small pack of your favorite matcha-flavored sweets. “I know you’d laugh at me for picking up knitting,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But... it’s calming. I think you’d appreciate that. You always said I needed to find something that made me happy outside of being a hero.”

The scarf was simple, a pale green color that reminded him of the shade you loved wearing. He had spent hours perfecting it, thinking of how you might have joked about him for being so precise yet ultimately praised his effort.

“I hope you’d like it,” he whispered, setting it down carefully beside the gravestone. “I thought about giving it to someone else, but it felt wrong. It’s yours.”

Todoroki draws in a breath, closing his eyes, letting the stillness of the place envelop him. Yet in the quiet, his mind raced with so many thoughts all at once.

“I also learned how to cook,” he tells you—he tells your grave. “It’s not as good as yours, but Bakugou’s been helping.”

He thought of your childhood, how you had been his only light during the dark days of his father’s strict training. How you had been this bubbly girl that the teacher often praised, how you had stood by him when he was still new to making friends at the nursery, offering him a hand when he thought he didn’t deserve one.

“You were the best person I knew. And I pushed you away. You didn’t deserve that, [Last Name]. You were my friend when I didn’t know how to be one back.”

The pain of those words hung heavy in the air, and Todoroki’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had spent years replaying your interactions, wishing he had done things differently. If he had done things differently, you would’ve been here, probably teasing him for taking up chopstick-making classes.

“I was so angry back then,” he confessed, his gaze fixed on the gravestone. “At my father, at myself, at the world. And I took it out on you, the one person who never stopped trying to help me. I told myself I didn’t need anyone, but... I needed you.”

Another tear slipped down his cheek, and he hastily wiped it away, frustrated by the way his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He was the Number Two Hero now, a symbol of strength and perseverance. Yet here, in front of you, he felt like the lost, broken little boy that longed for his first friend.

“I need you now, please.”

The sound of a bird chirping nearby pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting, casting a hue that reminded him of your warmth.

You did like sunsets, didn’t you?

“You’d probably scold me for crying,” he said with a faint chuckle, though his voice still wavered. “You always hated seeing me upset. But I think it’s okay this time. You’re worth crying over.”

He knelt down again, his fingers brushing over the engraved letters of your name.

“Shoucchan! You can’t cry! We can be partners—the best partners!”

Yes, partners. The best partners for as long as you’ll have him.

“I’m trying to live the way you wanted me to,” he continued. “To find happiness outside of being a hero. To be someone you’d be proud of. But it’s hard, [Last Name]. It’s hard without you.”

He stayed there for what felt like hours, speaking to you as though you were sitting beside him, as though your gentle presence could somehow reach across the veil of death. He told you about his hero work, about the classes he was taking, about the little moments of joy he tried to find in a life that often felt too heavy.

Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he rose to his feet. His knees ached from kneeling for so long, but he barely noticed.

“I’ll come back,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the tears that still shimmered in his eyes. “And I won’t let you wait so long again. Next time, I’ll bring something better than just a flower. Maybe one of those awful paintings you always said I should make.”

As he turned to leave, he hesitated, glancing back at the gravestone one last time. As if you’d be there with open arms, waiting for him.

“Thank you,” he whispered, the words carrying a weight that only you could understand.

He walked away slowly, the sound of his footsteps fading into the stillness. The cemetery grew quiet once more, the only reminder of his visit the small offerings left behind—silent testaments to a bond that even death could not sever.

SHINSOU HITOSHI — Avoidance by all means necessary, until he finally caves in.

If you were to ask Shinsou what his prized possession was, he’ll tell you that it’s a shoe box. A shoe box that seemed to hold the world—your world, with remnants of a friendship that had lasted his entire life—a lifetime with you.

Shinsou sat on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands hovering over the box as though touching it might shatter him. He had been avoiding this moment for weeks. The funeral had been a blur, the condolences—a cacophony of words that didn’t mean anything because he knew that they couldn’t possibly understand how it feels. Everyone seemed to know the right things to say, except him.

All he had wanted was for you to be there, to laugh at how awkward he was with the whole ordeal.

Now, it was just silence.

With a deep breath, he finally reached into the box, pulling out the first item: a knitted scarf, a rich shade of violet. It was slightly uneven, the handiwork amateur at best, but it was one of the first gifts you’d ever made for him. He could still remember your smile when you handed it over during your middle school years.

“I thought it’d look good on you,” you had said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Don’t laugh! It’s my first try. Nuh uh, I’m taking this back—Hitoshi!”

He hadn’t laughed. Ok, maybe just a quiet chuckle, but he had worn it every winter since.

He leaned forward again, staring into the box. Inside were the tokens of a life intertwined with his—handmade crafts, small souvenirs, and letters tied with ribbons in colors you knew he liked. Each item was a story, a piece of you you had given him, never expecting you would be taken away so soon.

He gently picked up a small ceramic cat figurine, its paint slightly chipped. It was from one of your family trips abroad.

“I saw this and thought of you!”

Younger Shinsou blinked, confused.

“Me?”

You nodded. “You’re like this cat. All serious, but secretly soft and comforting.”

Shinsou chuckled softly at the memory, though the sound was tinged with sadness. He had teased you for it back then, calling it tacky, but it had ended up on his desk at home. Now, it felt like a sacred relic.

Setting the figurine down, he reached for another item. Shinsou pulled out a small, framed photo of the two of you at a summer festival. He was scowling at the camera while you grinned beside him, holding up two sticks of cotton candy. It was one of the rare times you had dragged him out, insisting he needed to “experience life beyond his walls” when he just wanted to sleep in.

He’d go to every summer festival in the country—even if it meant losing sleep—as long as he gets to do it with you.

The frame trembled slightly in his grip as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He pulls out a well-worn journal. It was yours. He hesitated, knowing that opening it would feel both comforting and unbearably painful. After a moment, he gave in, flipping through the pages.

Inside were your thoughts—notes about school, sketches of the two of them, and half-finished poems you had written during quiet afternoons.

The prince has been so stressed lately.

I wish I could take it all away.

He deserves the world, but he won’t let himself believe it.

Maybe one day he’ll see himself the way I do.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. You had always been like that—putting everyone else first, even when you had your own struggles. He closed the journal and held it to his chest, his breath shaky.

“I should’ve told you,” he whispered. “I should’ve told you how much you meant to me.”

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled over, sliding down his cheeks as he sat there in the coming twilight. He thought back to the nights they had spent stargazing, sharing their dreams and fears. You had been his constant, his answer, his light, even when he didn’t know he needed one.

His phone buzzed again, a reminder that the world kept moving even when his had stopped. He glanced at the screen—it was a message from his secretary.

Meeting tomorrow at 9, Sir. You told me to remind you.

Shinsou scoffed bitterly, tossing the phone aside. Work didn’t matter right now. Nothing did.

He looked back into the box and pulled out a small, intricately folded paper crane. He had almost forgotten about it. It was from your high school years, during a particularly tough exam season.

“This is for luck,” you had said, carefully handing it to him with an awed expression. “And if it doesn’t work, at least it’s cute, right?”

He remembered stuffing it into his pocket, too embarrassed to admit how much it meant to him at the time. Now, it felt like a lifeline.

As he unfolded the crane carefully, a note inside revealed itself. The ink was slightly faded, but your handwriting was unmistakable.

You’re going to be amazing. Always.

A choked sob escaped him, and he clenched the note tightly in his fist. You had believed in him, even when he hadn’t believed in himself. He wished he could’ve seen this sooner.

When it got dark, Shinsou didn’t bother turning on the lights. The silence felt appropriate—a space for his grief to exist without judgment.

“I miss you,” he confessed, his voice trembling. “I don’t even know how to keep going without you.”

He glanced at the small collection of gifts and letters spread out on the table. Each one was a reminder of the life you two had shared—a life you had enriched with your thoughtfulness and love.

Though the pain was overwhelming, Shinsou knew he couldn’t let your memory fade. You had given him so much, and the least he could do was honor you by living the way you would have wanted—fully and without regret.

“I’ll keep going,” he said softly, almost as if speaking to you. “You’d probably get mad if I slept in.”

The room remained quiet, save for the faint sound of the wind outside. But for Shinsou, it felt as though you were still there, your presence lingering in every corner of his heart.

SEUMYO © 2025, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[ultravi0lence14]

Only Angel

dean winchester x angel!reader

1.9k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: dean winchester needed a little clarity in his life, and you were just his only angel to do it.

dean watched as you sat on the sidewalk in front of the motel, back hunched and eyes raking over the passages in a book sam had given you. he could see the angelic side of you clear as day, but that could’ve just been dean admiring your pretty features.

around a year ago, when dean was taken out of hell and met the angel castiel, he and his brother learned that cas wasn’t the only angel who decided to touch down to earth. you followed behind cas like a confused puppy, looking at earth and all the things you’d only heard about in passing from different angels.

you were always catching dean’s attention. whether it be the way you just sat and stared sometimes, hands placed in your lap and eyes vacant like there was no thought behind them. but somehow, dean knew that you were thinking about heaven. you had rebelled just like cas, and he could see it on your face that those human emotions were starting to take a tole on you.

when he found you one night sitting per usual, dean couldn’t stop himself from gently grabbing your arm and leading you to the small field behind the motel. there, he instructed you to look up, showing you all the stars in the sky and telling you that whenever you missed heaven, just look up, and you can imagine all your brothers and sisters as those little beams of light.

he even tried to tell you that when lightening struck, you could envision it as your brothers and sisters bowling. but all you did was stare at him funny, informing him that angel’s didn’t play any recreational games in heaven.

since that night, you felt drawn to dean. always going to him when you had questions, staying close to him when you and cas were around. dean noticed it too, but he couldn’t find any place in himself where he wanted you to stop.

so the night you appeared to dean in his motel room, not saying a word as you quickly strode over to him and planted your lips on his, dean couldn’t find it in himself to push you away. he tangled his hands in your hair, bringing you close by the small of your back and drinking in the addictive feeling of your lips on his.

the movement of your lips were small and tentative, but dean didn’t seem to care. you being shy and inexperienced added more to the charm you already exuded, and dean loved every bit of it.

you later told him that the reason you kissed him was because that’s what sam told you to do when you felt fluttery feelings in your stomach around someone. dean swore to himself that he’d be owing sam for the rest of his life because of that.

that was all a couple months ago, and now, dean watched as you shifted a strand of hair behind your ear. the black and white striped tank top, alongside the dusty pink skirt that flowed around your thighs made him want to pick you up and take you right there in the back of the impala; but dean didn’t want to rush you, so he fought his self control as best as he could.

a soft sound of feet shuffling against gravel rang through dean’s ears as he leaned over the impala’s hood, tinkering with the gears and wires to make sure everything was okay. he didn’t think much of it, but since his back was facing where you were initially sitting, he had no idea that it was your ballet flat covered feet making all the noise.

“hey dean?” your voice rang from somewhere in front of him, not sparking any questions as he gravelly called out a ‘yes baby?’ in response to your ribbon like soft voice. “when are you going to teach me how to use this?”

he lifted his head in surprise, a quizzical look dawning on his face. when he turned and noticed you weren’t sat behind him anymore, he slowly moved his head towards the boot of the impala and watched with shock as you held a shot gun full of rock salt in your arms.

eyes wide, he quickly moved his head from under the hood and rushed over to you with breaths of ‘woah’ under his lips. in an instant, he took it from your hands, ignoring your adorable pouty lips as he placed it back in the trunk. “jesus feather’s, be careful. could’ve taken an eye out.”

you frowned as he simply just walked away, ignoring your original question and moving to the front seat of the impala. “you didn’t answer my question dean.” your feet planted themselves by the opening of the drivers side door. left foot tapping impatiently as you stared intently at dean’s side profile. “i want to learn how to use it.”

dean just chuckled, turning to plant his feet on the gravel and staring into your stoic eyes. instead of dangling by your side, you had your arms crossed over your chest in a defiance of anger. though dean couldn’t help but smile at how adorable you looked.

“i’m not kidding dean!” you basically whined, sending thoughts to dean’s head that he probably shouldn’t be thinking at the moment. “i want to be helpful. my grace can only take me so far.”

with a sigh leaving his lips, dean held back his immediate rebuttal to your argument. he wanted you to feel useful. feel how important you were to him and sam. he just selfishly didn’t want you to be corrupted by all the things that ruined him. you were so pure in your own sense. being able to use your grace to fight was one way you held onto that angelic side of you. he couldn’t bare do that to you.

dean also knew that you wanted to do this. all he could muster to do was grip your waist tightly in his hands and drag your body in between his legs. his arms went up to wrap around your lower back and torso, head tilted upwards so he could look at you through his lashes. you knew he was trying to use his charm and looks to sway you towards his ideas. you felt like a lovesick follow for following his bright green eyes so easily.

“you are helpful in your own ways baby, i hope you know that.” with a grin on his lips, dean stood up and rested his hands low on your ass, giving it a firm tap before kissing your cheek. “though if this is what you want, than get in the car. i have an idea.”

a light squeal left your lips as you reached on your tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on dean’s lips. your feet shuffled around the impala and into the passenger seat, watching as dean slammed the hood of the car down and situated himself behind the wheel. in an instant, he was backing out of the parking lot and speeding down the street.

he turned onto a desolate side street, fields and dirt roads in every direction as the smell of fresh grass wafted through the windows. you looked quizzically out at the scenery, wondering what dean had in mind as his hand rested gently on your upper thigh.

slowly stopping beside an open field, dean got out of the car, watching idly as his angel sat stiff and still in the car. grabbing one of the many hand guns from the trunk, dean opened the passenger side door and chuckled as you stared up at him with wide, curious eyes. “c’mon sweets. i’m gonna teach you how to shoot.”

with an eager and excited smile on your face, you scampered out of the car and flung your arms around dean’s shoulders. peppering many kisses around his face, you joyously mumbled thank you’s into each of your kisses. dean’s laugh reverberated off his chest as you ran off towards the middle of the field, waving him over when you found a good spot.

meeting you where the field took a decline to a hill; showing acres of grass and trees at the bottom, dean slowly handed you the gun as he situated himself behind you. “the first and most important thing to know is how to hold it.” dean snaked his arms around your body as he spoke, arms positioning your own as his hands clutched yours in the perfect position.

“there ya go angel. just like that, you’re doing amazing.” dean’s praise fell deftly onto the shell of your ear, his breath hitting a spot on your neck that made a deep sigh erupt from your throat. dean’s explanation on how to aim and the recoil of some gun’s fell deaf to your ears. all you could feel was his arms wrapped around you, his solid chest pressed to your back as his chin rested on your shoulder. this was too much. and you were starting to wonder if asking dean to fuck you, right now, in the impala’s back seat, was such a bad idea.

“now just put your finger on the trigger.” dean’s words started to register again in your brain, and when you felt him back up a bit and allow you to get into position, you felt the desire you had moments ago be replaced by the overwhelming feeling of learning something new.

dean watched you as you got into position. squaring your shoulders and lifting your arms up in aim as dean relished in how you looked at the moment.

you looked so out of place. so out of your element as you held one of his guns, skirt billowing around your upper thighs in the wind. you looked out of place, but so ethereal. so beautiful in dean’s eyes that he couldn’t believe you chose him.

“is this okay?” your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as you questioned the placement of your arms. dean couldn’t help but move closer to your back again as he looked over your stance.

“yeah lovely, that’s perfect. you’re doin’ amazing.” his words encouraged you to pull the trigger, a loud pop ringing through the air as the bullet whizzed right into the lone beer bottle that dean had grabbed earlier for target practice.

an excited squeak tore from your lips, legs jumping up and down as dean’s arms wrapped around your middle. he swung you around, exclaiming in happiness as you laughed with joy. you did it on your first try, and dean couldn’t be anymore proud.

“look at you baby, that was amazing.” dean’s excitement could be heard through his voice. when he spun you around, the glimmer of pride even sparked in his eyes. “i’m so proud of you, angel, you’ve come so far.” no words came from your mouth. all you could manage was a feeble hug to show your love. dean knew what you were implying, hugging you back twice as hard as his hand smoothed down your hair.

his mouth was by your ear, whispering sweet nothings as you held onto him tightly. with a gentle kiss on his collarbone, you pulled away and grabbed his hand, dragging him back to the car with a happy skip in your step. “c’mon! i wanna go back to the motel and tell sam and cas!”

how could dean say no to his perfect angel? his only angel.

[colorlessjay]

Here's a Destiel prompt based on a doodle I did but also Chappell Roan:

Dean Winchester is your average picture perfect American boy. Tall, blonde, football team quarterback, Kansas sweetheart with a little brother he's way too over protective of, and a southern drawl he swears he doesn't exaggerate. He's brash and rude, his confidence making him an easy target for over excited crowds and the occasion fights. The girls at school want him when he gives them a wink and a smile, and most guys envy him. Wish they were him.

But Dean had his eyes set on the unattainable

Castiel Novak. the Student body vice president who seems to fly through school like he was above it all. But not in the obnoxious 'I'm better than you' way in most teen movies. No, Castiel radiates an energy. One of pure intent, kindness, and joy that makes people fall for his hypnotic blue eyes

People like Dean, Castiel's best friend, and the guy he confides in more often than not

And Dean hates that he does. Because Castiel,for all his intelligence, was as clueless as they come

So whenever Castiel asks him to wingman for him

It's months worth of heartache and fake smiles as he watches Castiel pull every trick Dean taught him

Because Dean Winchester? He's the practice boy

-----

Castiel, wanting to the full college experience, asks his best friend Dean to help on how to date/seduce girls (Since Dean is really good at it and has been in relationships before. But only to distract from his massive crush on Cas)

And Dean, being a good friend, walks Cas through every step regardless of how much it hurts to flirt with Cas, only for Cas to use those same words and actions on girls

And one day, Cas asks Dean how to kiss. If he'll be a good kisser. Castiel's self conscious about it. Self deprecating and confused cause his lips are always chapped and his hair always a mess. And he's scared he won't close his eyes

And Dean just goes on about how those can be good things. How they're attractive. Blurting out stuff he personally feels about kissing Cas

"Your hair's perfect for kissing, short and soft and perfect to hold"

"If she doesn't like your eyes when you kiss, then she's blind as a bat!"

"Your lips look chapped but I'll bet my Baby they're as soft as the look you get when you see a bee"

"hell! Given the chance, I'd kiss you and I'd be the one left breathless"

And of course, they practice kissing

And Dean was right. It leaves him breathless

Leaves him heartbroken too when he finds Cas kissing Meg the same way a week later

-------

"I can't take it anymore, Cas! I'm so fucking tired of being your goddamn practice dummy!" Dean turns around, finally facing Castiel after he storming off "Yeah, I asked for it. It was fucking stupid to even suggest it, but you can't be so goddamn blind to not see that everything I've said, everything I've taught you, was more then just a shitty flirting lesson to me!"

Castiel stops in his chase, staring at Dean wide eyed as the rain picks up

Dean powers on, pacing and flailing "Fuck me for thinking the way you kissed me meant something then just practice" he laughs humorlessly then lets out a sob

"Fuck, Cas…" Dean looks up. his hand coming down to clutch at his wet shirt. Tears and rain running down his face "It meant something to me… you saying it otherwise doesn't change that… it just makes it hurt"

Castiel stared wide eyed and frozen. His mind flashes back to every interaction, every little touch, every word said between them

And all he could muster up was

"Dean…"

[follows-the-bees]

Cas comes up to Dean and Sam in the bunker and tells them how he just heard about a thing called drive-in movies, how you can watch movies while staring up at the stars. The thought of something as natural as human artistic expression under the blanket of stars was intriguing. "Humans really are fascinating."

Dean asks, "what's wrong with watching movies in the Dean Cave?"

Sam scoffs and says, why don't they go since they are in-between cases. Cas looks so hopeful about it, his eyes pleading even while the rest of his face is in that neutral position that Dean can't help but to agree.

They go the next night, a Friday, and Sam tells them to go ahead without him, he's meeting up with Eileen for his own date night, punctuating the sentence with a wink. Cas responds with his signature head tilt, "own date night?"

When they get there, Dean finds the perfect spot without too many cars close by to ding Baby. He explains to Cas about how when he fixed Baby the last time, he put in some new speakers and it will be like surround sound since the audio will be coming through them.

He's of course proven to be right, and Cas feels like he's in the middle of the battle while surrounded by bodies of metal and a dark blue sky.

During the second movie, Dean notices that Cas is looking more at the sky than the screen.

"Cas, the screen's right in front of you."

"I know."

"Are you even watching the movie?"

"Of course."

Dean gives him a scowl. "Why are you looking at the sky. It's dark."

"I'm looking at the stars."

Dean can't help but look up too. There is a smattering of stars but nothing different then normal.

"Ok then, weirdo."

Cas turns to him, his eyes moving across his face. Dean looks away at the attention, feeling his face heating up from the unrelenting attention. Cas always has a way of not just looking at Dean, but looking through him.

"They remind me of you. Your freckles." Cas reaches forward and gives one soft swipe across Dean's cheekbone.

Dean's confused eyes meet Cas' full of love. And Dean's heart skips a beat.

"They are beautiful, aren't they?" Cas continues, his voice is soft, far more gentle than Dean's heard it before.

Dean hard swallows, unable to drop his eyes from the blue orbs in front of him. He croaks out, "the stars?"

The smile that fills Cas' face could radiate its own sky full of stars. "Your freckles."