#licieoic paints

[licieoic]

"Got You" - Digital Oil Painting

My headcanon is that Cas is listening for baby Jack in the other room.

Please see the pinned post at the top of my Tumblr for my links if you'd like to help support me in saving for a safe place to live!

[janaem]

Let Me Rule You

Jareth x f.reader

This is Chapter 2 (Wish) | previous chapter Word count: 5.5k (22 pages) Warnings for this chapter: swearing, arguments, blood, use of weapons Key:Y/n= your name | L/n= last name | M/n= mom name |d/n= dog name header image is an oil painting by licieoic

The rest of the day was Y/n spending time in her room reading Labyrinth. She was sprawled lazily on her bed on her back, one of her windows cracked as she felt the warm summer dusk breeze tickle her skin.

She began to feel familiar with the intricate details and made mental comparisons between the novel and the movie. Despite only watching the film once, Y/n felt as though she remembered all of it; it was tattooed in her brain, and she didn't intend to forget it.

Every time she immersed herself in Jareth's dialogue, she couldn't help but hear it in his deep, captivating voice, which sent shivers down her spine as if he was standing right behind her, softly whispering in her ear. She longed for his words from the book to be portrayed in the movie, but reading allowed her to envision Jareth's dialogues in a way that was uniquely her own. It felt like she was directing a personal movie in her mind, one that she never wanted to end.

She was more than halfway through the book when she set it down and grabbed her phone, ignoring the notification on her lock screen. She opened a music app and looked up the Labyrinth soundtrack, scrolling to the song that she couldn't quite resist the most.

She put on her headphones, her left hand in the spot in the book where she left off, and pressed play, allowing the music to electrify her senses like a sudden bolt of lightning.

"How you turn my world into a precious thing…"

His voice trembled with vulnerability and longing, sending a wave of heat rushing down her body. She couldn't help but shut her eyes, savoring the electric sensation as she pictured Jareth in his sleek black leather waistcoat and vibrant red long-sleeved shirt.

"You starve and near exhaust me."

"Everything I've done, I've done for you…"

"I move the stars for no one."

She swallows a lump in her throat. Her eyes began to sting. She allows his evocative voice to seize her senses.

"You've run so long, you've run so far…"

"Your eyes can be so cruel."

As Y/n listened to the melancholic tunes, a sudden rush of excitement overwhelmed her, a feeling she hadn't experienced while listening to a song in a long time.

In her mind's eye, she envisioned Jareth striding towards her, his hand outstretched, offering a crystal ball filled with dreams. She imagined him staring intensely at her with a daring look, his thin lips forming a seductive smirk so captivating that Y/n could swear she felt her body pulsating with anticipation. Her eyes remained fixed on Jareth; her heart seemed to leap into her throat in that instant.

"Just as I can be so cruel."

She found herself unable to pinpoint the exact reason for her attraction. Perhaps it was the juxtaposition of his drowsy yet intense gaze and angular eyebrows accentuating his sly grin, or maybe it was the hypnotic timbre of his voice. His words seemed to caress her like a sudden rush of water trickling down her goosebump ridden skin. She so desperately wanted to open her mouth and shamelessly consume it, letting it drip down the corners of her mouth—into her throat.

"Oh, I do believe in you…"

Y/n started to picture herself reaching for the ball; her focus momentarily fixed. Jareth let it settle into her grasp as he continued to outstretch a gloved hand towards her chin. The leather cool against her skin as he gently caressed it. Y/n draws irresistibly closer, feeling the pulsating between her thighs intensify.

Jareth's thumb traced the curve of her bottom lip with deliberate slowness, igniting a flutter of anticipation within her. She stumbled slightly, finding herself leaning into his embrace, allowing his arm to snake around the small of her waist. The sensation of his breath brushing against her face made her close her eyes in surrender.

Her lips parted further, ready for whatever he was going to give her the minute he started to inch closer....

Y/n was suddenly startled by rapid thumping on the windowpane.

She lifted her head up only to see nothing.

"The hell?" She questioned irritably, for no tree branches barely brushed her window. She huffed and thumped her head against her bed, looking up at the ceiling, disappointed that she'd lost her train of thought. But what wasn't lost was the aching between her thighs.

"Y/n, I would appreciate it if I could get some help around here," her mother called from downstairs sarcastically, "you've been upstairs all day. I've barely seen you."

With an exasperated huff, Y/n rolled out of bed, descending the spiral of dark wooden stairs.

M/n was seen chopping up garlic for a salad; she loved to add garlic to almost every meal because it was healthy. Y/n couldn't stand it.

"Can you chop up the lettuce, please?" M/n requested that the garlic pieces be put into the wooden salad bowl. And what have you been doing all day?"

"Reading," Y/n replied dryly, taking a knife and cutting the lettuce stem.

"What book did you get?" M/n asked, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a cucumber from one of the bottom shelves.

"It's called Labyrinth. It's based on a movie I watched last night."

"So that's what you were doing instead of helping. Stuck on a movie and a book that will do you no good."

"Mom, enough."

"What about your prep for college? Did you sign up for your orientation like you were supposed to?"

"Mom, please, I completed those things weeks ago, and you know that. My orientation isn't until next month!"

"I'm sure there are more things you need to complete." M/n continued grabbing the pieces of lettuce y/n and placing them in the salad bowl. At this point, she was interrogating the poor girl.

"I was only having leisure time, that's all," Y/n replied with slumped shoulders, for she was tired of going back and forth.

"You always have leisure time," M/n shot back, "you don't do anything-"

"Alright, that's enough! I don't wanna hear it anymore!"

M/n stopped her work and turned to Y/n with eyes of fire as if she were about to tear her apart.

"Who are you raising your voice at?" She asked slowly.

“What- I-“ y/n stammered.

"No, no, no," M/n's voice was louder, filling the quiet space of the kitchen; Y/n couldn't help but wince, "Who do you think you're talking to?"

Before Y/n could answer, her mother grabbed her arm so hard, digging her fingertips into her flesh.

"No, you listen to me-" M/n began, her voice plummeting fiercely into Y/n's eardrums.

"No! I'm not going to listen to you. Why? Because I'm an adult, and I am sick and tired of you treating me like a child!" Y/n's voice erupted with anger as she forcefully tore her arm from her mother's grip, surprised at how easily it came free. She stepped back, her chest heaving with frustration and resentment.

"You're never satisfied with me, no matter what I do! All you care about is being 'productive,' but it's just controlling! You expect everyone to think and act the way you do, and when they don't, you act like they're wrong!" Her words sliced through the air like knives, each one laced with years of pent-up frustration and hurt.

Her eyes blazed with defiance, daring her mother to challenge her.

Y/n's mother scoffed dismissively, her tone dripping with condescension. "Y/N, give me a break. I'm not falling for whatever tactic this is anymore. This has gone on for too long, and you need to be more mature. You haven't lifted a finger in days, and your dad isn't even here! All you think about is yourself, and I'm tired of repeating myself over and over again. If you want to be treated like an adult, then start acting like one."

Her words landed like a verbal slap, stoking the fire of Y/n's frustration even further. The accusation of selfishness cut deep, but Y/n refused to back down.

"Oh, for crying out loud, Mom, you've hindered my maturity and growth for however long. You never give me a chance to think about things-"

"I wish you would blame me for the way you turned out. You simply don't think."

"That's because growing up, you always had to think for me," Y/n asserted, taking a deliberate step forward. "The reason my friends are so mature and independent is because their parents leave them the hell alone."

"Do you have to swear, Y/n," M/n's mom questioned, shaking her head, "you bless the devil by doing that."

"Oh no, the devils gonna get me," Y/n mocked, throwing her mother off a bit, "so be it."

Y/n and her mother stood in tense silence, the air thick with unspoken words and simmering tension. M/n's initial surprise shifted into a deep disappointment as she absorbed the gravity of the situation. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she began to nod, her thoughts racing for a response.

"You're grounded; hand me your phone, computer, remote, and that book. We're finished here."

The words landed like a heavy blow to Y/n's chest, each item listed a tangible loss in the sudden turn of events. Her mother's decree was final, leaving no room for negotiation or reconciliation at that moment.

"What-why the book? I haven't even finished it–"

"That's alright. Once you're finished with it, I expect it to be turned in. You won't be seeing it until you're packed for college."

That managed to ease y/n's surging anger, keeping it at bay. But why for so long?

Stinging of tears threatened to spill over. Y/n turned away from her mother without a word and headed upstairs, her steps heavy with the weight of frustration and hurt. She closed the door to her room firmly behind her, shutting out the world and the echoes of their heated exchange.

"Phone, computer, and remote!" Her mom shouted from upstairs.

"Yeah, yeah," Y/n muttered. She took the labyrinth book from her bed and looked over its crimson cover, tracing her thumb and feeling its smoothness. Frustration started to course through her veins, knowing that she wouldn't see it for a while after she'd finished it.

She stacked her laptop and phone on top of her desk, oblivious to the various thumping noises she was making.

She went downstairs, not planning to speak to her mother.

She sets the stack on the counter, ignoring M/n's "thank you."

Y/n was more than halfway through the book, with only 35 pages to go. She wasn't a slow reader; she just wanted to soak in every detail the Labyrinth had to offer, making sure to picture each interaction and character vividly. That's what she loved about books: the ability to visualize and submerge herself into foreign lands better than her own.

Back in her room, she sinks into the plush covers of her bed and continues to delve into the land of the Labyrinth, mentally noting each character individually.

Y/n found herself really liking Sarah's character, especially how she kept her cool through such a complex maze of challenges. She admired Sarah's resourcefulness and how she brought her friends into the mix to boost her chances against Jareth.

What really stood out to Y/n was the depth and detail in the book compared to the movie. It gave her a better understanding of the characters' thoughts and feelings, which she loved analyzing. Getting more insight into Sarah's relationship with her mom was a big plus too—it added a whole new layer of emotion and understanding.

She paid close attention to Jareth and was especially shocked when he kissed Sarah in the ballroom.

"That's weird," Y/n muttered as she thoroughly read the scene, "they didn't kiss in the movie."

"Trust me," Jareth said, moving his face close to hers. "Can you do that?"

"Jesus." Y/n breathed, feeling the tension through the words.

As Y/n delved deeper into the chapter where the Junk Lady attempts to distract Sarah with materialistic temptations, she found herself captivated by the poignant symbolism woven into the narrative.

Y/n looked up from the spot, her hand placed gently on where she stopped, eyes furrowed, and lips parted.

"This is quite literally all a setup. The Labyrinth seems more than a maze full of convoluted riddles and pathways." Y/n pondered as she suddenly stopped reading.

Her thoughts started swirling with the parallels between Sarah's journey in the Labyrinth and her life aboveground. The more she reflected, the more convinced she became that something was orchestrated about Sarah's challenges. No doubt Jareth was behind it all, but there was a tint of something else.

"Hoggle was waiting for her... like he knew she was coming," Y/n murmured, tapping her fingers on the page. She remembered how Sarah encountered helpful creatures at almost every turn — the worm, Ludo, even Sir Didymus. Each encounter seemed almost too conveniently timed as if the Labyrinth itself had a hand in guiding her.

"And those doors," Y/n continued, recalling the puzzling moments in the story. "Sarah guessed the riddle correctly, yet ended up in the same place anyway. And the Bog of Eternal Stench, why didn't Sarah smell bad when she hopped on top of those rocks that emerged from the bog water?"

Without warning, the bedroom door slammed open, and M/n stormed in, her sunglasses perched defiantly on her head and her designer purse swinging with purpose.

"Y/n, I need to run to the store. I forgot things for dinner," she declared tersely, not stopping to acknowledge the disarray of Y/n's room or the drawn curtains she criticized. "This room is a disaster. Why are these curtains shut? Open them and let in some light."

Y/n's irritation simmered as she bit her lip, struggling to hold back a retort. She watched with a knot in her stomach as her mother rifled through drawers, criticizing and rummaging through everything in her path.

"Why are your clothes all crumpled? You just did laundry. Why do you always treat your things so carelessly, Y/n?"

"Bye, Mom."

"No, you'll answer me like an adult."

"Adults don't have to answer everything."

"As long as you're under my roof, you will answer every question I ask."

Y/n met her mother's gaze, silently challenging her to leave.

In response, M/n spun around, yanking out armfuls of clothes and flinging them onto the floor with reckless abandon. Drawer after drawer, she created a chaotic landscape of fabric—shirts, jeans, socks—all strewn across the once pristine floor.

Y/n stood frozen in disbelief, her nerves frayed as the room transformed into a battleground of wills. The sight of her belongings tossed aside like meaningless clutter felt like an assault on her sanctuary.

"All these clothes need to be folded properly," M/n commanded, dumping a final heap of swimwear on the growing pile. "And get rid of anything you don't want."

With that final decree, M/n left without waiting for a response, leaving Y/n to confront the aftermath of her fury.

As the echo of the slamming door reverberated through the house, Y/n abandoned the book, got up from the comfort of her bed, and stood amidst the wreckage.

Her chest was tight with unspoken frustration. And right there the helpless girl crumbled.

She sank onto the floor, overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions and the crushing weight of expectations she couldn't wrap around.

The room seemed to close around her, the mess a physical manifestation of her mother's control.

She shook, hiccuped, and sobbed loudly, feeling utterly overwhelmed and disconnected from everything around her. She could barely feel her knees pressing against her bedroom floor.

The house phone began to ring.

Groaning, Y/n trudged out of her room and to one of the house phones that was sitting snugly on a dresser.

“Hello?” she answered upon picking it up.

“Y/n, can you please put your remote downstairs? I forgot to tell you that I didn’t see it. I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” her mom instructed.

“Yeah.” Y/n answered dismissively.

“Love you, bye.” her mom answered.

Without replying, Y/n hangs up and stomps back to her room.

She walked over to the bed looking for her remote which she knew was submerged in the covers somewhere.

Finally finding it, she grabbed it and turned back to the hefty pile of clothes that were still a heaping mess on the floor. There was one particular pile of clothes that she no longer needed anymore, so she lifted up the small pile.

“I wish the goblins would take mom away,” she plopped the remote on top, “right fucking now.”

She chuckled at her silly joke, deep resentment for her mother continued to rise in her chest.

Y/n descended the stairs with a purpose, tossing the clothes into the familiar "giveaway" box positioned by the garage door. It had become a regular chore for the family, ensuring a steady stream of donations to local centers.

Still clad in her navy blue cami top, gray sweats, and white socks, Y/n ambled into the kitchen, where a neglected salad bowl lay surrounded by remnants of onions, garlic, lettuce, and spring mix. Feeling the pang of hunger, she opted for a quick fix—a frozen bean and rice burrito that she tossed into the microwave.

As the burrito spun, heating up, an unsettling sound reverberated through the house, causing D/n, their faithful companion, to emit a low growl from somewhere distant. Y/n paused, dismissing the noise initially as a stray branch from the backyard trees colliding with a windowpane. She retrieved the now steaming burrito, placing it carefully on a porcelain plate, and relished the first bite—a warm combination of rice, beans, and cheese that elicited a contented hum of pleasure.

But the tranquility shattered as D/n growled again, the thumping sound resuming with increased intensity. Y/n frowned, setting down her half-eaten burrito and swiftly grabbing a knife from the rack near the coffee maker. Though violent incidents were rare in Evansville, her avid consumption of crime shows had prepared her for the possibility of intruders.

With determination etched on her face, she crossed into the living room where the rhythmic thumping persisted that was coming from the large windows. The curtains billowed ominously, threatening to burst with each impact against the glass. D/n stood, tail erect, emitting a series of deep barks and growls that mirrored Y/n's own rising apprehension.

Knife gripped tightly, Y/n cautiously approached the curtains. Her heart raced as an eerie, non-human laugh echoed from her left. She whipped around, knife poised defensively.

"Who's there?" she demanded, her voice wavering slightly despite her attempt to sound resolute.

Another unsettling giggle pierced the air, mingling with the relentless thumping that had now grown even more frenzied.

A shadow darted behind the flatscreen television, prompting D/n to shift its attention. Y/n pivoted, ready to confront the unseen intruder, her senses heightened.

Then, a furry sensation brushed against her leg. Y/n looked down in alarm, locking eyes with a grotesque creature—a snout twisted and burned, with jagged yellow teeth set against dark fur-covered skin. Its height stopped right below her knee.

Instinctively, she kicked it forcefully, sending the creature tumbling backward onto the couch. Before she could recover, another creature emerged from behind the curtain, emitting a shrill, disturbing laugh that chilled her to the bone.

Y/n and D/n sprang into action, darting around the room in a frantic attempt to corner the elusive intruders. They ignored the persistent thumping now audible from the other window, focusing solely on defending their territory.

Not wasting another moment, Y/n retreated to the kitchen counter where her phone, laptop, and remote lay in a neat stack. With the knife tucked securely under her arm, she dialed 911, her fingers trembling.

Before Y/n could press the dial button, a small, gnarled hand seized her phone, startling her into action.

Her eyes widened as she found herself face to face with a goblin.

Its snout was grotesquely twisted, resembling a pig's, with eyes that were oddly close-set and resembled googly eyes, complete with red irises. The creature sported a rusty helmet atop its misshapen head, its eyebrows mere wisps of hair.

Reacting swiftly, Y/n lunged with her knife, stabbing the goblin squarely in the shoulder. It screeched in pain, its voice cracked and shrill.

"Ahh! She gots me, she gots me! Ahh!" The goblin wailed, writhing in agony.

Y/n didn't hesitate, stabbing again, this time aiming for its eye. The creature bellowed in pain once more, its shrill cries echoing in the room.

Unbeknownst to her, another smaller goblin lurked, ready to pounce from behind. But before it could strike, D/n sprang into action, leaping on the creature and pinning it down with a growl.

"This dog, oh!" The goblin grumbled in a low, grimy voice, clearly displeased with its predicament.

Y/n's phone clattered to the floor amidst the chaos. She moved to retrieve it, only for it to be kicked out of sight in the scuffle.

“Fuck!” she cursed seeing it skid over to the further end of the kitchen. Her hand was bloodied from goblin blood and she felt disgusting, but she had to keep fighting.

Y/n was still knelt on the ground and she peered behind her seeing that D/n had trapped the smaller goblin underneath their weight.

Y/n scurried over and yanked the goblin from their grasp.

“Good boy/girl.” she praised throwing the goblin so that it hit the wall with a thump, knocking it unconscious.

Another goblin, a taller, sturdier one, charged to the direction of her phone that was at the other side of the kitchen by the refrigerator.

"No, no, no!" Y/n gasped, sprinting across the room with her bloodied knife clutched tightly. She reached the goblin just as it raised its ax to smash her phone. With a surge of adrenaline, she grabbed the creature by its neck, struggling with its surprising weight as she hoisted it up and flung it forcefully to the far end of the room.

"I guess going to the gym does pay off at times," she muttered to herself wryly, her heart racing from the exertion. She quickly retrieved her phone, stuffing it into her pocket while scanning her surroundings frantically.

Nearby, the unconscious goblin lay sprawled on the floor, her faithful dog, D/n, was engaged in a fierce struggle with the bloodied goblin, and the third goblin staggered to its feet weakly, attempting to regain its composure after being thrown down.

Y/n took a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever might come next. Gripping her knife firmly, she remained on high alert, ready to defend herself against any further threats that dared to invade her home.

“D/n! Come here,” She commanded, and her dog was immediately by her side, “stay by me, okay?”

Y/n and D/n cautiously returned to the living room, the thumping noise still reverberating. Despite her fear, she approached the source of commotion.

With trembling hands, she pulled aside the curtains and was comforted by the sight that made her blood run cold.

A white barn owl, its eyes gleaming with an otherworldly intensity, was flapping menacingly at the door. Before Y/n could react, the owl launched itself, shattering the window with a thunderous crash and swooping into the room like a missile.

Y/n gasped in horror, shielding her face as glass shards flew in all directions. She stumbled backwards, landing hard on the cold wooden floor. The shards of glass continued to rain down, and despite her efforts to protect herself, Y/n felt the sting of cuts on her forearm, chest, and face. Pain shot through her, but she clutched her knife tightly, ready to defend herself.

The owl, now inside the room, attacked ferociously. It clawed at Y/n's arms, slapped her with its wings, and tangled its feathers in her hair. Y/n fought back desperately, swinging her knife blindly until the owl finally retreated, leaving her shaken.

As the chaos settled, Y/n slowly rose to her feet, D/n watching her with concern. She gripped the knife tightly, scanning the shattered room. Bile rose in her throat and tears started stinging her eyes once more.

"Mom's gonna fucking kill me," she muttered bitterly, her voice wavering with emotion, “shit.”

"You won't have to worry about that," a voice said, cutting through the tense silence.

Y/n gasped and turned to the direction of the voice.

Leaning against the unshattered window stood a tall, lithe figure, glittering specks scattered at his feet. His black leather boots complemented black tights, and he wore a ruffled black undershirt with a deep vee, topped by a black half corset adorned with intricate designs and buckles. A long, flowing cape draped gracefully to the ground.

She took in his face, noting the striking sharpness of his features. High cheekbones and an angled chin were framed by a wild, tousled mane of blond hair.

"So, this is the thanks I get?" he remarked, his voice laced with bitterness and amusement.

He studied Y/n’s face, dewy with sweat and marked by blood splotches near her eyebrow and upper cheekbone. Her wet lips were parted, and eyes were challenging. His mismatched eyes swiftly scanned her body, noting the strap of the navy blue cami top slipping off her sweaty shoulder. Y/n’s entire body glistened with sweat, a trickle of blood tracing down her pristine chest as it heaved harshly.

"Who the hell are you?" Y/n demanded, though she already had a sinking feeling she knew the answer.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he replied in a haughty manner, the corners of his mouth twitched.

"Why are you here?" she pressed, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance.

"Why do you insist on asking questions you already know the answers to?" he retorted, his mismatched eyes glinting with an unsettling intensity.

“This must be a dream or something,” y/n breathed, “because there’s no way David Bowie is in my house right now.”

The male furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at her joke, “what?”

“David Bowie…” Y/n repeated slowly, “are you not…?”

“I don’t know who this Dave Bowel you speak of.”

“Jeez, have some respect for the dead..”

“My condolences.” Jareth replied dryly.

Y/n kissed her teeth, Jareth sarcasm was really on a roll this evening.

Jareth points behind her, “Look there.”

Y/n turned around only to be faced by a clean and ordered room. All of the shards of glass vanished and the window is back in its place.

“You’re free now to do whatever you please.”

“I’m free?” Y/n asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Forget about your mother.”

The knife that was once in Y/n’s hand fell onto the floor with a loud clunk.

“You took my mother?” She said in disbelief.

“Isn’t that what you asked for?” Jareth said with a raised brow, for he found Y/n’s reaction quite amusing.

“But—wait—I was kidding!”

“Were you now?”

“Yes. I won’t say anything like that again I promise! Just please bring my mom back.”

Jareth made his way closer to Y/n until he was only a breath away, their eyes locking like old foes reunited in a clash of wills.

“What comes out of your mouth, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper. He outstretched his gloved hand, his fingers grazing her chest, “contradicts the desires of your heart.”

A shiver ran through Y/n at his touch, her breath hitching as she found herself unable to break free from the intensity of his gaze, which bore into her with a fierce and unsettling determination.

“Please.” She whispered.

"Please what?" He trailed his fingers to her jaw, smoothing his thumb along her chin with a maddening slowness.

This touch was more electrifying than she had ever envisioned, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

"I'm sure this feels very familiar to you, Y/n," he said slyly, his voice dripping with mischief and unspoken promises.

"What are you-"

"Save the absurd questions for another time," he cut in, his thumb gliding from the curve of her chin to the base of her swollen lips, lingering there with deliberate pressure.

Heat ignited between Y/n's legs once again, more intense and insistent than before.

"There won't be another time," she hissed, tearing her head away hastily, her gaze burning with defiance even as her body betrayed her.

“You are seriously fucked in the head for seducing me into forgetting my own mom.”

“It doesn’t take much to do that.” Jareth retorted in a matter of fact tone.

“Don’t act like you know me. I’m not Sarah!” She spat.

Jarerh’s expression dropped, he irritably sighed, “No you're not,” he regained his composure right then and there, “but you’re just like every other teenage girl.”

“How would you know that?”

“I know the desires of your heart.”

“Like hell you do.”

“Sarah was not the only one who ran my labyrinth.” His voice ran cold suddenly.

“But she was the only one who conquered it.” He finished.

Their eyes stayed locked, and for a long moment, the air between them crackled with electric tension. Neither was willing to back down, both poised on the edge of something inevitable.

“Sometimes I wonder who will be the next conqueror,” Jareth murmured, his voice low and suggestive, his gaze burning into Y/n's.

“So you're suggesting I run the labyrinth to save my mom?” She asked, her voice carrying a challenge of its own.

Jareth smirked.

"Alright," Y/n challenged, bending down to pick up her knife. She flipped it in the air and caught it perfectly. "I'll do it. But don't expect me to give up easily."

"You stabbing and flinging my subjects around proves enough," Jareth replied, looking down at his arm and mockingly brushing it with his hand. "Nearly chopped my wing off with that knife. You are a bold thing." He chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looked back up at her.

"Alright, save it. Where's the Labyrinth?" Y/n pushed irritably, her patience wearing thin.

“Such haste won’t get you anywhere.” Jareth replied.

“But I already know the rules, I’ve watched the movie, I have thirteen hours to solve or my mom will turn into a goblin.” She recited.

Jareth furrowed her eyebrows once more, “Movie?”

Y/n waved her hand dismissively, “Never mind.”

“You’ve read the book. That’s how you know.”

“Uh yeah.” Y/n then started to wonder if Jareth even knew what a movie was.

"But since you're so confident," Jareth started, circling her slowly, his eyes never leaving her, "I'll give you ten hours."

"You can't just do that!" Y/n protested, incredulous at the arbitrary time limit.

"It is my labyrinth where I can do what I please," Jareth replied nonchalantly, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of challenge and amusement.

"But I never said I was confident; I said I wouldn't give up. There's a difference between determination and cockiness," Y/n retorted, meeting Jareth's challenging gaze head-on.

Jareth's expression tightened, and he took a sharp breath, his stance growing tense as he ceased his circling. Silently, he gestured behind Y/n. Turning, she faced the once shattered window, now revealing the ominous maze of the labyrinth, with the castle looming in the distance like a coveted prize.

"Looks challenging doesn’t it?" Jareth taunted, leaning close to her ear, his breath tickling the nape of her neck.

"Ten hours. That's all you've left me," Y/n huffed bitterly.

Jareth snorted, his demeanor shifting as he backed away from her. "I'm simply treating you as you wish to be treated," he countered.

Turning to face him, Y/n's eyes narrowed. "And how is that?" she challenged, bracing herself for his next barb.

"Like an adult," he shot back, his voice slicing through the tense silence like a blade.

Y/n fought to maintain her composure, her heart racing at his words.

"Such a pity," Jareth added, his tone cold and cutting.

Ignoring his provocations, Y/n began to stride forward, only to halt abruptly.

"My dog," she exclaimed, looking back, but Jareth had vanished.

From behind a nearby tree emerged D/n, wagging their tail in greeting.

"D/n!" Y/n exclaimed joyfully, scooping up her furry companion in a tight embrace.

"Ten hours," Jareth's voice echoed ominously.

Startled by his sudden reappearance through his voice alone, Y/n quickly rose to her feet and proceeded down the sloping path towards the labyrinth's entrance.

"Let's do this."

[deanwasalwaysbi]

What kills me is that all the pieces were there. [ikea post x]

You Could have had the “Hello Dean™” when Dean got to the bridge.  Dean slowly smiles 

A melting hug

“The most authentic, loving hug. I could imagine them just, like, grabbing each other and hugging” - Misha Collins

it would have still been as ‘ambiguous’ or ‘open to interpretation’ as it was tbh, there would still be bbros arguing till they were blue in the face that dean’s was only a platonic hug, up to an on screen kiss, but fans would have been so happy.

Jack could have been there, to greet him.  Sam could have come along eventually, I guess, but idc. 

It was such a specific thing for Misha to have said.

It wasn’t deeper, it wasn’t boastful or proud or rude, it wasn’t talking or an emotional conversation, it was middle of the road. it was ambiguous even.

It makes me start to think: oh. This was what was in the ending before it was cut. before the changes.

Wasn’t it?

Cap from my fav fixit edit (x) after this moment is optional.

digital oil painting by @licieoic​

[duckprintspress]

"And Seek (Not) to Alter Me" Art Teasers: Xanthe P. Russell and Alicia Matheson

Presenting And Seek (Not) to Alter Me: Queer Fanworks Inspired by William Shakespeare's "Much Ado About Nothing"

Duck Prints Press has launched our second Kickstarter, running now through April 14th, 2022 - And Seek (Not) to Alter Me, a gorgeous collection featuring the work of 16 authors and 16 artists in a full-color, A4 size soft cover size-style book!

Today, we're highlighting 2 more of our artists...

*

Artist Spotlight: Xanthe P. Russell

Work Title: Duly Noted

Biography: I’m Xanthe, she/they, a 23 year old queer freelance artist based in the United Kingdom. I am primarily a portrait artist who specialises in using portraiture as a way of expressing my love for both the subject and the art world in general. I mainly work digitally, although love to dabble in traditional art from time to time (such as pencils, paints, embroidery, etc), and am constantly looking to push the boundaries of what my art can be! I recently graduated with a BA in History of Art, and often will use artists of the past and present as inspirations for my work. My art has been featured in a few primarily online magazines, such as the Kraze and MouthingOff, along with some fan-zine and independent projects.

My work is a mix of fan art and original character designs. I have a wide range of fandoms that I’ve been involved in over the years, but one that has remained consistent (and was also what got me interested in digital art back in 2013) is the Kpop fandom. Fandoms in general have been places where I’ve met a lot of really talented and lovely people who have helped inspire and motivate me as a creative person! I also have a love for music and writing, and have written a lot of my own music and stories in my spare time. Being creative has always been a big and happy part of my life, and I love being able to share that creativity with the world!

Links: Behance | Facebook | deviantArt | Instagram | Tumblr | Twitter

*

Artist Spotlight: Alicia Matheson

Work Title: The Sweetest Thing

Biography: Alicia Matheson (she/her), Bi-Demisexual and Elder Millenial circa 1982! Southern California native, currently living in the Pacific Northwest; has been writing and doing digital and traditional art for decades. She also works as an author under the pen name Licie Laine.

Links: Archive of Our Own | deviantArt | Patreon | Tumblr (@licieoic) | Twitter

Alicia Matheson also did the artwork for our gorgeous campaign bookmark!

***

Interested? You can see more teasers, and the amazing work Licieoic did for our merchandise, by visiting our Kickstarter campaign!

[deangirlsince07]

Whoever did this. We need to talk. I am an emotional wreck 😭😭. The original owner of the painting is @licieoic [X]

[lacylu42]

My Christmas gift to myself was to commission @licieoic​ to paint my OCs from my WIPs The Curse of the Mad Dragon and Murder of the Faerie Consort!

Behold!  David “Mac” MacInish and Julia Cartwright.  I’m so happy with it! 

Here’s the scene this image describes behind the cut:

“This place is a fae shop,” David explained as they approached. “The owners are Unseelie, so it’s better if you let me order and do the talking.”

Julia shrugged and agreed.  David was more than a little nervous about introducing her to the more complicated corners of his world, but she was right: she was going to encounter the creatures, beings, and customs of the supernatural world sooner or later. It would be better if she did so with him nearby to help.

Also, they made incredible lattes. 

He pushed open the door and they entered the cozy little shop. Every inch of the walls was hung with clocks of all shapes and sizes: a wall clock that looked like it belonged in a school room, an old-fashioned alarm clock, an ornate cuckoo clock, a stately grandfather clock mounted three feet off the floor. 

Around the room, the patrons lounged in squashy armchairs and sat around little cafe tables. Several witches were drinking tea in the corner and laughing, a kitsune with a long nose and bright red hair was reading a book on a patchwork sofa, and on the coffee table next to it, a bright blue nixie, about 10 inches high, was lapping milk out of a saucer. 

He glanced at Julia, who was clearly trying to play it cool, though her wide eyes taking in the scene betrayed her.  He ducked his head to hide a smile and went to the counter. 

“Mac!” the barista behind the counter cried, spotting him. She was pretty and petite, with short, dark hair that curled around her ears and skin like polished oak. Her smile shone like moonbeams. “I was starting to think you might have died! I haven’t seen you in two days!” 

He chuckled. “Nothing like that, Abbey, just a tricky case.”

“The usual?”

“Make it two.”

Abbey glanced over his shoulder at Julia, who was lurking behind him. “Of course! Can I have your name?” 

Julia opened her mouth, but David cut her off. “Just put it with mine, Abbey.”  

She pouted playfully at him, but rang him up without argument. 

“Tell me a whopper,” Abbey said as she made the drinks.

David looked thoughtful. “I’m purple,” he said.

She gaped at him. “You’re not even a little bit purple!” She laughed as if it were the funniest joke she’d ever heard. “Do it again.”

“I’m the Queen of Sheba.” 

She frowned. “Are you— no you’re NOT!” 

She passed him the coffees, still laughing, and David guided Julia to a table in the corner, out of the way. 

“The Queen of Sheba?” Julia said, raising an eyebrow.

“She thinks it’s hilarious that I can tell outrageous lies like that. The fae can’t.”

“What — they can’t lie at all?”

“They can be misleading and omit the truth, but they can’t outright lie. The fae can be pretty tricky to deal with. In fact, first lesson,” he said, as they sat down, “never ‘give’ your name to a fae. It gives them power over you.”

Julia looked surprised. “You mean — all those superstitions about fairies are true? Wait. Isn’t like the first one about not eating or drinking anything they give you?” She glanced at her drink suspiciously.

“It’s the giving part of that one that’s important,” he said. “So don’t accept any samples. But I paid for these, so you’re fine.”

Julia took a sip of her coffee and closed her eyes in pleasure. “Good,” she said, “because this is magically delicious.”

He snorted and took a drink of his own.  But he noticed that she was frowning down into her cup. 

“What?”

“Well… Didn’t you give me dinner last night? I mean, I didn’t pay you for it.”

“I’m only half fae. Those rules don’t apply.”

Julia visibly relaxed. “Oh. Good. But you’re still not getting my firstborn or anything.”

David grinned. “Curses, you’ve foiled my plot.”

“But how do I know if they’re fae or witches or something else entirely? I mean. She looks pretty human to my untrained eye. Kind of a hippy maybe. Are hippies actually fairies?”

“A few. But no, you really can’t tell by looking. It’s more of a feeling.” He frowned slightly, trying to figure out how to explain it. “A sort of buzz. A sense.”

“Thank you. That’s incredibly specific and helpful.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, it’s hard to describe. It’d be like asking you to describe color. Or define the word ‘it’. But don’t worry. The more you interact with supernatural creatures, you’ll start to be able to tell them all apart.”

“Yeah, but what am I supposed to do until then?” she asked, stirring her coffee distractedly. “Seems like I could get into some pretty big trouble before I figure it all out.” 

“Well, I’ll be here to help you.”

“For now,” Julia said.  “But everybody seems to think you’re a pretty good detective, so sooner or later you’re going to figure out who did this to me and why. Probably sooner rather than later. And then what?”

David wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“I don’t even know if I — can I even go back to my old life? How do I report on just half of the city when I suddenly know there’s an entire other population of people and creatures and beings doing stuff, too? Should I just pretend I don’t see the goblins in the subway and the sigils spray painted in alleys and the fire witch busking in the park?”

“Once we figure out who did this, we’ll be able to look at the original spell,” David said. “We can analyze it. The department has some of the best forensic spell casters in the business — I’m sure they can reverse it, if that’s what you want.”

“Reverse it?” Julia looked at him in a sort of horrified confusion. “You mean, I’d go back to just being normal? I wouldn’t remember any of it?”

“If that’s what you want,” David said. His stomach gave a painful wrench. 

“No,” Julia said quietly, wrapping her hands around her mug.  Then more firmly. “I don’t know why this happened to me, but I can’t give it up. It would be like losing one of my senses. Even if I forgot… I don’t know. I feel like I’d still know something was missing.”  

They sat in silence for a while, drinking their coffees. David found himself feeling strange and realized he was relaxing. 

He had forgotten how calming it could be to sit in companionable silence with someone, how timeless it could all become. He looked at Julia, sitting across from him. Her shoulder-length brown hair fell around her face in soft waves, and she’d pinned one side back out of her face. She was tracing the whorls of the wood in the table with a fingertip. Something about the way she looked just then transported him back to a different era, a different time…

“Shit,” he said, jumping. He knocked the table and the dregs of his latte spilled into his lap. 

“What’s wrong?” Julia asked, handing him a wad of napkins. 

“I forgot — damn fairies. It’s time to go.”

They abandoned their mugs and Julia followed him to the door. 

“Bye, Mac!” the fairy behind the counter said with a bright smile. “Enjoy your day!”

David slammed his hands into the door and pushed it open. Outside, the light was strange. Julia looked all around her as they stepped out onto the street.

“What…?” she began.

“Cafes can be liminal spaces,” David said grumpily. “Especially fairy cafes. We lost about six or seven hours it looks like. Damn.”

Read the rest here on Wattpad

[licieoic]

"Cozy Kisses" - Digital Oil Painting

I wanted to paint something cozy and sweet.

Please see the pinned post at the top of my Tumblr for my links if you'd like to help support me in saving for a safe place to live!

[cloverhighfivewritestoo]

The Empty’s Curse

👉 Read it on Ao3

Characters – Dean, Castiel (Destiel eventually), Sam, Jack, Rowena, Billie/Death mainly. A few others.

Warnings – Angst, fluff (eventually). Dean having a hard time with his feelings (duh). Destiel fluff.

Summary – Dean is dying and there is no getting out of it this time. After a round of goodbyes from friends, Castiel takes Dean on one last ride.

Words – 5390

A/N – Theme clearly heavily influenced by this week’s episode (14x07) (it was the one where Jack is sick and coughing up blood and they couldn’t find a cure)(And yes I wrote this right after 14x07 - Cas’ deal is in 14x08. So. !!!) A/N2 - Special thanks to @licieoic​ for the wonderful painting! Our soft boys were in good hands! <3

The entity from The Empty had had it. A number of people had risen from its depths over time, and the entity seriously had had enough. It knew it was all linked to Dean somehow and had decided to end this charade – it needed its sleep. And so, in a tongue-in-cheek fit of rage, it had cursed Dean to get a little more sleepy each day, losing his vital energy until there is no more.

It took a few weeks before anyone noticed something off. But at some point Dean fell asleep at the wheel, scaring Sam and Jack. The following days had been spent trying to figure out what’s wrong – and not letting Dean drive, which made him extra grumpy although he agreed.

They’d found nothing. They’d read every book in the bunker – again – and every book in the other capitum, and turned out nothing. Some Egyptian spells, some mesopotamian legends, but nothing really fit perfectly.

They’d taken him to the hospital. They’d found nothing.

They’d called Ketch, who, in spite of his vast knowledge, had no idea what could be wrong exactly. He’d contacted a few trusted old friends (much to everyone’s surprise) to try and search the Men of Letters library. After a few days, they hit jackpot – if a curse by The Empty’s entity can be called jackpot. Someone back in Egyptian times had had too much power and the entity had decided it was enough. The story said no god could change the entity’s mind, and the Egyptian man had withered away slowly.

So Dean was dying. Slowly. He was not in any particular pain, he was just tired, a little more each day. He would sleep a lot and, the little time he was awake, he would keep to his bed. He would not eat. He hardly drank a little water.

Sam was by his side almost every waking moment. Jack too. Castiel had gone to try and find some Shaman or anyone the Shaman would recommend. He called to check in every now and then.

Rowena had managed to get Death to come – without killing reapers – so they could talk to her and try to convince her to talk to The Empty’s entity. The tall, dark, timeless woman stood in the doorway. “Hello Dean.” “Hey Billie.” Billie – Death – stood there, unmoving. Dean added, “So, when you said, ‘see you soon’, did you think it would be this soon?” “Actually, no.” “Hah.” “But it is one of your possible deaths.” “Oh yeah, the books with all my deaths, I remember. Really?” “Yes.” There was a moment of silence in which Death walked to the side of the bed and looked down at Dean. “I’m sorry, Dean.” “Me too.” Sam, who was sitting by the bed, asked Death, “Can’t you do something about this?” “No. This death is one of the possible ones. Things will keep in balance if this death happens. It is sooner than I thought, but, then again, I’ve come to expect the Winchesters to live much longer, or many more times than the usual Joe.” Dean didn’t like the answer. “So you’re not going to help us. But you said to me, I remember, you said I was important. That I had work to do. And there is still work to do.” Death turned to Dean. “You have a point. I’ll try to talk to The Empty. But I can’t promise anything; I have no power over it.” Her gaze became unfocused a moment. She blinked. “It said no. And it said it’s claiming you. I’m sorry, Dean, I am.” So Death couldn’t help. The Empty wouldn’t let Dean live. That meant Castiel’s search wouldn’t do anything to help. But even with this news Castiel just kept pressing on, hopelessly trying to find a loophole, something they could try that they hadn’t thought of. He literally scoured the Earth for any specialist in supernatural matters. Yet his hope was his only; everyone else had understood Dean was dying for real, for good, forever.

The first few days after they all realized the inevitable, Sam had cried in silence by Dean’s bed. A lot. He had tried to keep it in when Dean was awake but sometimes Dean was only half asleep and a tear would roll down his cheek as he heard his brother’s muffled sobs. Days passed, and Sam simply felt numb. A kind of routine settled in, a familiarity with seeing Dean bedridden. Dean had told Sam to get out, go on hunts, get some air. Sam had tried, but had botched the jobs, unable to focus. He even got a few bad injuries. So Sam stayed at the bunker. Dean didn’t have enough energy in him to tease him about being a sloppy hunter.

One afternoon, Dean waited until Jack had left to run some errands to talk to Sam. “I’m sorry, Sammy.” “For what?” “I promised I’d look after you, and here I am, dying on you.” “Dean, don’t say that.” “Still…” “Dean… It’s not your fault.” “But it’s not what I wanted.” He looked at nothing in particular, and said, mostly to himself, “Plus, I’m a hunter, a warrior. I shouldn’t go out like this. This is unfitting.” Sam couldn’t come up with anything to say to that, really. So he just sat there. Dean laid in silence. Sam had his head down, his hands white with clasping them together too hard, his mouth a thin line. “Sammy.” Sam looked up, his hands regained a little colour. He waited. “Sammy, I wish we’d spent more time together.” Sam cocked his head. “But… we’re almost always together.” “That’s not what I mean. I mean, we should have done things together, have a little fun. Not just work. When’s the last time we played pool just for fun, not to hustle anyone?” Sam looked down at his hands. “I honestly can’t remember.” He looked up in Dean’s direction, his eyes unfocused. “But… you know… between everything that’s happened… When’s the last time we actually had time to even think about doing… anything, really?” Dean looked away. “I know.”

Days passed, and turned into weeks. Sam still couldn’t hunt. He felt the more time passed, the closer they must be to the end, and he couldn’t bear thinking of being away when it would happen. Castiel checked in more often, but kept searching still.

Ketch had come by and had told Dean he had pulled every string and every favour to try to find someone who could help, without any success. Dean had thanked him for his efforts. Still, Ketch insisted he was profoundly sorry. He added, with more emotion than both thought possible, that he had hoped he could have made it up to him and he had hoped they could have been partners, even friends. Dean had just said, “alright, alright” but had shook his hand nonetheless, adding, “sorry man, we’re out of time.”

Other people had come – Jody, Donna, Claire… Most didn’t know what to say, cried, held Dean, he cried, held them, they tried to find something to say, couldn’t find much, sat around a while, told stories, memories they’d keep with them of time spent together on hunts and whatnots. Made promises of being badass and keep helping people.

Who took Dean’s going away the hardest? It was not a contest anyway, but Claire sure stood out. She kept apologizing for her behavior, Dean kept telling her it’s fine, she’s turned out a strong, capable, resourceful woman, whispering he’s proud of her into her hair as she held on to him, trying to calm down between sobs.

With people coming and going, Sam and Jack had taken turns watching over Dean, who slept even more. After people had stopped coming, they’d kept to this habit, with Rowena popping in from time to time with some spell she’d found to give him more energy or keep him more awake – the effects of which would be very short-lived, at best.

Castiel finally came back. He looked exhausted, but the kind of exhaustion that goes beyond the body. Sam and Jack welcomed him back, hugs were exchanged, news of Dean’s state given. Sam warned Castiel, “Don’t get too startled, he’s lost quite a bit of weight. I kept his beard a little longer so he wouldn’t look too scary with his sunken cheeks. Of course, I didn’t tell him that. I don’t want him to worry about it.” Castiel had assured him he could not be scared by Dean and proceeded to go see him. Sam and Jack let him go alone. Watching Castiel walk away, Sam coughed down a lump in his throat.

Castiel came into Dean’s room. Dean was sleeping. Castiel usually stood around, forgetting altogether the use of chairs, but this time, he pulled a chair, wanting to be close to Dean, knowing he’ll be there a while. Dean was lying on his back, seemingly sleeping peacefully. There were a few comforters on top of him; he was probably cold, what with his lack of energy. Castiel touched his shoulder. Indeed, Dean was colder than a human should be. He tried to warm him up with his grace, but it didn’t work. Dean didn’t even wake up. Castiel looked at him, his hair grown out, his beard short, but effectively covering some of the sunken in cheeks. Dean wasn’t scary, Castiel thought. He was heart-wrenching. He took Dean’s hand in his, looking at his face.

He felt a squeeze of his hand as he saw Dean’s eyes open slowly. “Cas…” Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand harder. “Cas…” “Hello, Dean.” They looked at each other with horror and sorrow, realizing those two words were probably spoken for the last time. They both knew Castiel wouldn’t leave Dean’s side a single instant now.

Castiel was surprised that, in spite of his state, Dean’s eyes were still a most vibrant green. Castiel didn’t understand why, but he had the sudden urge to get a few strands of hair out of Dean’s face. It was unnecessary – Dean’s hair wasn’t that long – but he wanted to touch him, to feel he was still here. He was already holding Dean’s hand, but it didn’t seem enough. He bent over a bit and smoothed out the hair out of Dean’s face, gently. Dean closed his eyes and turned his face ever so slightly into Castiel’s touch.

Castiel let his hand rest by Dean’s head and, with his thumb, stroke his hair by his ear. He shifted his weight, knowing he’d stay like this for a while. Dean leaned in a little. Castiel looked at his beautiful face, still beautiful in spite of the weight loss. “How did we get to this?” Dean opened his eyes, but didn’t look at Castiel. “You know. It seems I managed to piss off a cosmic entity.” He looked up at Castiel, and, with a sad smile, said, “seems we have something in common.” “Yes, but I pissed him off to come back to you.” Dean closed his eyes, his brow furrowed, his face a grimace of sadness, as he leaned more into Castiel’s hand. “I’m sorry.” “That’s not what I meant – Dean…” Castiel took Dean’s face in both hands. “Dean, don’t… I’m not saying…” He let go of Dean's face. Dean grabbed Castiel’s shoulder and pulled at his trenchcoat. “Cas…” Castiel, without even thinking, bent down and took Dean in his arms. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel, sobbing. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” “It’s not your fault.” “Yes, it is.” “It doesn’t matter.” “Don’t go.” “I’m not going anywhere.” They stayed like this for a while, Dean going from calming down to panicking again because he knows this is the end and there’s nothing he can do. The powerlessness was unbearable. Abandoning everyone in his care was unbearable. Focusing back on Castiel’s arms around him made him forget his guilt for a moment. But then it came back in waves and he panicked again. Castiel would hold him closer then and Dean could feel Castiel’s eyelashes brush close to his own.

Sam, having heard nothing for a while, thought Dean had fallen asleep again. He went by to talk to Castiel but, as he came to the door, he saw his brother holding on to his angel for dear life. The joy of seeing Dean finally letting his walls down about Castiel filled him with tremendous joy. And knowing the timing was the worst filled him with immense sadness. He didn’t know if he was smiling or crying, but his heart was the heaviest it had been in a while. He closed the door silently.

Inside, Castiel felt Dean’s arms fall to his sides. Exhausted, Dean had fallen asleep. Castiel straightened up, stroke Dean’s cheek softly and tucked him in. He took Dean’s hand in his and watched over him.

Dean’s eyes opened. How much time had he slept? He couldn’t tell. The light in the room was the same, Castiel was the same, sitting by the bed, holding his hand. Cas. The only true constant in his life. Cas. Castiel, looking at Dean waking up, didn’t go for his usual 'Hello, Dean.' He couldn’t anymore. Every 'Hello, Dean' would feel like it was the very last one, as if it could provoke Dean’s end. Instead, Castiel smiled at Dean. Dean smiled back and gave Castiel’s hand a little squeeze. Looking into his angel’s blue eyes, he felt his heart grow in size, his breath hitch. “Hello, Cas.” Castiel smiled even more. “Hi. Did you sleep well?” “I dreamed you were holding my hand everywhere we went.” “We’re not going anywhere, but it is not a dream, I am holding your hand. I’m not letting you go.” “It felt nice in my dreams.” Castiel stroke Dean’s hand with his thumb. “It feels nice right here.” “We should go somewhere.” “What?” “We should go somewhere. I’d like to be with Baby again, ride in her.” “You can’t drive.” “You can.” “You never let me drive her.” “Soon I won’t be around to keep anyone from driving her. Hell, I even taught Jack to drive with her. So, you know, of course you can drive her.”

On the front seat was Dean wrapped in blankets, buckled up tight so he didn’t have to spend too much energy sitting up. Castiel was at the wheel. Sam was leaning on his arms into the window, asking where they were going and how long. Castiel didn’t know. Dean didn’t know. “For a drive.” was the only answer. Sam made sure Castiel had his phone and wished them a good afternoon.

Castiel kept his eyes on the road. Now and then, he’d glance to see if Dean was still awake. Invariably, he’d see him leaning against the door, not unlike a human burrito in all his blankets, his eyes half closed against the sun, a soft smile on his face. Sometimes Dean would close his eyes and breathe deeply as he listened to Baby’s engine as if it were the only music he’d ever cared for, and then he’d open his eyes again, looking at the scenery through his eyelashes.

Castiel wondered how far they’d go like this. Not that he minded going to the ends of the Earth with Dean. And he liked driving Baby, he realized. He turned to look at Dean again and saw a flash of green staring at him contently. He looked like he had been staring for a while. “Cas, do you think you can drive with one hand?” Castiel didn’t know what to make of that question. “Um…” “Cas…” Castiel saw Dean undo his blankets, lean a bit closer and offer his hand. “I’m tired, Cas.” Castiel took Dean’s hand in his. Dean looked down at their hands, his eyes drooping. He unbuckled himself and scooted closer, and he laid his head on Castiel’s shoulder. He interlaced their fingers. The touch of Cas. The smell of Cas. The low rumble of Baby. He fell asleep with a smile.

Dean woke up in a hotel room at the crack of dawn. The weight on his chest… Cas’ arm. His left side being warmer than his right side… Cas is… Oh. Cas is lying against him, holding him. “Dean…” “Hello, Cas.” Dean closed his eyes as he moved to hold Castiel closer. He almost fell back to sleep. “Did you sleep well?” Dean opened his eyes again. “Better than in a long time.” Dean turned his head to rest his cheek against Castiel’s forehead. “If I’d known I’d sleep so good with you by my side, I think I’d have done it sooner.” Dean closed his eyes, and turned his head a little more to brush his lips against Castiel’s forehead. He absentmindedly gave him a little kiss.

Castiel shifted a little and looked up at Dean. They stayed like this, lost in the green, lost in the blue. In that very moment, Dean had no concept of the bad luck that had befallen him. There was no curse from the entity from The Empty. There was no having lost so many people over the years, there were no epic battles against demons and angels. In that very moment, all of Dean’s universe was Castiel’s eyes and Castiel’s touch. Dean, without even thinking about it, cupped Castiel’s cheek. With his thumb, he stoked his eyebrow and trailed down his cheek to his jaw. He slid his hand to the back of Castiel’s head and played in his hair.

Dean suddenly stopped, his eyes wide. “Wait. How did we get here? Last thing I remember, I was falling asleep in the car.” Castiel smiled. “I kept driving, seeing you slept so soundly. As the sun started to go down, I spotted a lake nearby. I carried you by the lake and sat us on the shore, holding you close so you wouldn’t fall. I thought, if you’d wake up and see the sunset, you’d like it. Then night fell and there were so many stars it was beautiful. I thought, maybe you’ll wake up and see the stars. At some point, I couldn’t keep you warm enough, so I found this little hotel and got us a room. I did my best to keep you warm. You don’t seem so bad.” Dean thought for a moment. “You mean… You took me on a date and I slept through it?” Castiel was confused. “Is that what a date is?” Dean laughed softly. He started playing in Castiel’s hair again. “And a good one, too. I’m sorry I slept through it.” “It’s alright, Dean. You can’t help it. And, I saw you smile a few times in your sleep. You never smiled in your sleep.”

Even if Dean knew Castiel had watched him sleep often, so often, it dawned on him that Castiel didn’t do that with anyone else. Since the very beginning, Castiel had watched over him, making sure Dean is alright. Maybe Castiel didn’t know human emotions at first, but his care for him was already present, very present. He always came when he called. He even came when he didn’t really call, but just… thought of calling. Dean had been demanding sometimes, and Castiel had been very busy with angel wars, but Castiel had come and helped Dean. Dean realized that even if Castiel had been grumpy or even angry at him sometimes, he never felt Castiel would stop being his friend, ever. And then he realized how stupid it is to use the word 'friend' when you’re holding each other, in a bed, looking into each other’s eyes, playing in his hair. Dean thought about the things he’d done without thinking about them – holding on to Castiel, holding his hand, that little kiss he just gave him, being calm whenever he felt Castiel close to him. And Castiel never shying away, always welcoming every one of Dean’s touches, sometimes giving him what he needs before he even knows he needs it.

“Cas…” “Yes, Dean.” “Do you…” He couldn’t say it. Love. He just can’t say it. If Castiel said no, he’d die, for real, right here, right now. Castiel squinted a little. What was it that Dean wanted to know? “Do I what, Dean?” Dean was stuck. It all seemed ridiculous. Here they were, in each other’s arms. But, then again, Castiel always did exactly what Dean wanted or needed, nothing more. He responded to Dean, but did anything come from Castiel himself? Did Castiel want any of this? Dean’s head started spinning with questions, doubts, fear. He let go of Castiel and shifted on his back, looking at the ceiling, sighing.“

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Castiel propped himself on his elbow, looking down at Dean. “Dean. What’s wrong?” Dean passed his hand in his own hair, looked up at Castiel. His question came soft, almost a whisper. “Why do you do all this anyway?” Castiel cocked his head. “All this what?” Dean gestured vaguely, looking about the room. “This. All of this. Everything you do, everything you did. Like, watching me sleep. Or, I don’t know, running complicated errands to get stuff for us. Or… You know, all the things you did. Every time you came when I called. You know. Everything.” “You ask me why do I do all of it?” Dean looked intensely at the wallpaper. “Yes…”

Castiel took a moment, looking into Dean’s eyes until Dean looked back into his. “I love you, Dean. Always have.” Dean seemed surprised. “Since we first met? But I stabbed you.” Castiel smiled. “Before that. Since I rescued you from Hell.” Dean’s eyes were wide. “Whoa… Really?” “The angels were right when they said I was lost as soon as I laid a hand on you. I had never felt emotions like this. I was, indeed, as an angel, lost.” Dean was speechless. Tears brimmed his eyes, he didn’t know why. Castiel continued, “Everything I did, I did for you. I still do. You’re the most important thing in my eternal life.”

Dean’s vision blurred. He felt the tears rolling down. He blinked, trying to keep Castiel in focus, trying to not lose a single instant of his blue eyes looking at him. Castiel didn’t understand the tears. “Dean, are you OK?” “Yeah, I…” He grabbed Castiel by the shoulders. He didn’t pull him in, he just held on. “Dean… What’s wrong?” “Nothing, I…” Dean lifted himself up on his elbows and reached up to Castiel’s lips, but stopping right before he got to them. What was he doing? He looked at Castiel, who hadn’t moved, seemingly waiting, looking into his eyes. Castiel passed an arm around Dean’s back to help him stay up. Dean’s mind went blank. He closed the distance and pressed his lips against Castiel’s. He saw Castiel close his eyes, felt him press his lips against his, but nothing more.

Dean fell back down to the mattress. He didn’t know if he did something he should regret or not. Castiel’s voice came low. “Well, that’s new.” Dean looked up at Castiel. “New? You’ve kissed before. You even…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Castiel laid back down by Dean’s side, took Dean’s hand in his. “It’s new because I thought my heart would explode. It’s a strange effect.” “But did you like it?” “Yes, it’s strangely pleasant.” “Do you want to try it again?” “Yes.”

The first kisses were soft. Dean’s head was spinning so much, he felt he’d never kissed anyone before Castiel. Sometimes they’d stop mid-kiss, their mouths still open, catching their breath. ”Dean?” “Yes, Cas?” “Is my heart really going to explode for real? It’s beating really too fast.” Dean chuckled. “Don’t worry. Mine exploded a couple times already.” Castiel opened his eyes in horror. “How…?” Dean laughed. “It’s a manner of speech. Hahaha… God I love you, you’re the best.”

Dean froze. He said it. He told the words to Cas. He started to panic, but Castiel had already his lips on his, kissing him harder. He felt Castiel’s hands in his back, gripping at him. Soon all that mattered was Castiel’s mouth, his tongue against his, hearing their breaths hitch, a low moan escape from… who, he couldn’t tell. Dean’s lips got numb from kissing, but his longing for Castiel just made him kiss him harder, slower, longer.

Dean woke up in his bed in the bunker. Opening his eyes, he saw Sam sitting by the bed. Only Sam. As a reflex, he tried to sit up, panicking. “Where’s Cas?” Sam put his hands up. “Hey, it’s fine, he just left two minutes cause Rowena wanted to talk to him.” Castiel appeared, having visibly ran to the bedroom. “Dean!” He went around the bed, ignoring Sam. He sat by Dean, taking his hand. “I’m sorry. Rowena wanted to tell me something, and…” Dean put his other hand on Castiel’s. “It’s OK.” “But I promised you…” “It’s OK. I’m sorry I panicked.” Castiel bent down, kissed Dean’s forehead. Dean closed his eyes. Castiel kissed Dean’s lips, softly. Dean kissed him back. “So I guess it wasn’t a dream, then.” Castiel cocked his head. “What wasn’t a dream?” “The car ride, the hotel room…” They heard Sam clearing his throat. It didn’t seem to register with them. Castiel answered, “No, it wasn’t a dream. You just fell asleep in the middle of…” They heard Sam really, really clear his throat behind them. “Um, guys, I’ll just…” Sam stood up. Castiel turned to Sam and stood up. “No, you stay, Rowena’s not done with me.” He turned to Dean. “I’ll be right back.” Dean smiled. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” Castiel pursed his lips, not laughing at Dean’s joke. Dean looked fondly at Castiel. “Hey, love you.” Castiel’s expression softened. “Love you too.” And he left.

Sam sat back on the chair, looking at his brother who was smiling stupid to himself. Sam couldn’t help but smile, too. “So, you two, uh?” “Yup. Who’d have thought!” Sam chuckled. Dean turned to him. “What?” “Well, Dean, come on. You guys have been into each other for… well, forever it seems.” “You’re kidding me.” Sam only laughed softly. “I’m happy for you two.” “Thanks. I’m happy too.” Dean’s smile faded. “It’s just… the timing…” Sam’s smile faded, too. “I know. But, you know, at least…” “Yeah.”

“So when did Cas bring me back here?” “Um, three days ago.” “THREE DAYS?” “Yeah. It’s the longest you’ve slept so far.” Both brothers got lost in their thoughts. They knew that meant the curse was progressing. Dean broke the silence. “And I’m awake less time each time.” “How long were you awake last time?” Dean rearranged his blankets, thinking. “Well, the ride in Baby, I was awake maybe three hours. Then I slept for about 14 hours. Then I was awake for maybe one hour, and then – he gestured to the room – slept for three days.” “Fuck.” “Yeah." Dean scoffed. "Actually, no.” “What?” “I’m too tired, I can’t.” It took a moment for Sam to make the connection. “Really, Dean? You’re really telling me that? Seriously?” Dean chuckled. He added, more to himself, “Cas probably doesn’t even know how with a guy anyway.” Sam leaned in a little. “And you, do you?” Dean looked at him sideways, a smirk lifting his lips. Sam threw his arms in the air. “Shouldn’t have asked!” Dean chuckled.

Rowena came in with Castiel. Castiel sat by Dean on the bed, their hands finding each other. Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, Rowena has an important message.” Sam got up and offered his chair to Rowena, and stood by the bed. Rowena looked at each man in turn before speaking. “I’ve been keeping in touch with Death and a couple more people, to try and see if the entity from The Empty changed its mind. As it turns out, it seems the entity is waiting for Dean and so it’s been awake the whole time. And it hates being awake.” Castiel added, “Oh yes. It really does.” Rowena nodded. “Yes. And so it’s gone out of patience and it seems it’s going to claim you sooner than later.” Dean’s brow furrowed. “How soon?” “Yeah, well, that’s the thing. Really, really soon.” “Rowena.” “Tonight.”

The news dropped like a bomb. Castiel felt his hand squeezed so hard he winced but didn’t move. He turned to Dean, whose face was already wet with tears, his eyes wide in despair. Sam walked to the door. “I’ll get Jack.”

When Sam got back with Jack, Dean was sitting up, holding Castiel, his face buried in his shoulder. Rowena was still sitting on the chair, her head down, hands folded in her lap. She looked up at Jack. “Jack…” “Yeah, I know, Sam told me.” Dean, hearing Jack’s voice, let go of Castiel. He looked up and extended his hand. “Come here, kid.” Castiel got up and went to the foot of the bed. Dean took Jack in a hug. “You take care of them, alright?” “Yes…” “And of yourself. OK?” “Yes.” Dean patted Jack on the back, broke the hug. He looked at him, patted his shoulder. “Alright.”

“Hello, Dean.” Billie – Death – stood in the doorway. Dean looked at her, eyes wide. “What? Rowena said ‘tonight’, aren’t you early?” Billie walked in as she answered, “We are officially at night, now.” “But…” “Dean, I’ll let you say your goodbyes, but I have my orders. Sorry.” Dean turned to Sam, whose face was red, tears rolling down his cheeks. Dean opened his arms. Sam sat on the bed and took his brother in almost violently. They held each other for a moment, immobile. It seemed they almost had stopped breathing. “Come on, Sammy…” “No.” “You’ll be alright. Come on.” Dean broke the hug, took his brother’s face in his hands. “I’m proud of you, Sam. You’ve become a great man. I’ve always been proud of you.” “Me too.” Dean pulled him in again shortly. They finally let go, and Sam stood up and walked out of the way.

“Rowena.” Rowena went to Dean, gave him a hug. She was so small in Dean’s arms, in spite of him being but a shadow of his former self. “Well look at me, I’m crying too. For a Winchester!”, she laughed, sobbing, trying to brush off the horror of the overwhelming emotions that come with loving people again, and losing them. “I did everything I could, Dean, I swear.” “I know, I know.” Rowena broke the hug, looked at Dean and stood up to go back by the chair.

Dean turned to Castiel, still standing at the foot of the bed. “Cas, help me stand.” “But you’re too weak.” “Cas, come on. Help me. If I’m going, I’m going standing. Not like a bedridden wuss.” He shook his hand in Castiel’s direction. Castiel helped Dean out of bed and held him up. “Alright, Billie. But before you take me, tell me, what will happen with me?” “Part of your self will be scattered throughout the universe of every dimension. Part of your self will be in The Empty.” “Wow, no chance of coming back at all, then.” “No. Not this time.” “Alright.” “Are you ready?” “No, but do I have a choice?” “Not this time, no.” “Let’s go then.”

Dean turned to Castiel, and, losing himself in his blue eyes one last time, kissed him, leaning his body into Castiel, Castiel holding him tight. It was a long, silent, soft kiss. Dean stood there a moment more, his forehead on Castiel’s. In barely a whisper, he said, “Cas, never forget I love you.” “Never,” came the answer, more calm than both thought possible. “And I love you too.” Dean closed his eyes against fresh tears, kissed Castiel one last time, trying to imprint the taste of his lips in his mind for eternity.

Dean finally let go of Castiel and started walking towards Death. But Castiel still held his hand. Dean turned around. “Cas, you gotta let me go.” Billie and Castiel exchanged a look. Dean caught it. He asked Billie, “What’s going on?” Billie nodded towards Castiel, saying, “We have an agreement.” Dean turned to Castiel. Castiel stepped in closer to Dean. “I’ll go with you.”

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[noiproksa]

psychicbouquetblaze-stuff reblogged your photo:licieoic: “Touch” - Digital Oil Painting Cas...

I was just looking for the soul hug fic that’s linked below this^^ fic yesterday and it found me thank you so much!!! I...

Aw, thank you so much! <3 I just love their need to touch each other, Dean and Cas are the cutest.

[licieoic]

"Heartbeat Lullaby" - Digital Oil Painting

You know who they are.

Please see the pinned post at the top of my Tumblr for my links if you'd like to help support me in saving for a safe place to live!

[licieoic]

"So Sleepy" - Digital Oil Painting

Sleepy boys.

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[licieoic]

"Demon Dean" - Colored Pencils and Markers

Never saw such a cute, pocket-sized demon!

Please see the pinned post at the top of my Tumblr for my links if you'd like to help support me in saving for a safe place to live!

[licieoic]

"Possessive Angel" - Digital Oil Painting

MY Dean. Mine mine mine.

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[licieoic]

"Dodgeball Dean" - Markers and Colored Pencils

Things have been a little crazy around here... I'm going to try to remember to post.

Do you want to color this yourself? I'm making all the lineart available on my Patreon.

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[licieoic]

"Lord Castiel" - Digital Oil Painting

Bridgerton AU, anyone?

Please see the pinned post at the top of my Tumblr for my links if you'd like to help support me in saving for a safe place to live!