#so i’m chucking this baby into the void

[elevenveggiestraws]

“Take my right eye.”

“Excuse me?”

“Since I’ve already staked it once.”

…

“If you lose one of your eyes, won't your combat ability deteriorate? Why would you take such a loss because of me?"

"If I had to choose, I'd choose you, Han Yoojin-gun."

[sunniepoo]

jj couldn’t help but love it when kitty got all possessive over him

you’ve always loved the smell of the big supermarket stores, something so mundane never failed to put you in a good mood, hence why the blonde has dragged you along to pick up a few home essentials. he couldn’t help but notice the way you clung to the side him, lips grazing against the muscle of his arm as you nuzzled yourself closer - there was a slight confusion in what he’d done right but whatever it was meant that he had a chance of getting some nice sloppy head tonight, so he really couldn’t say much

a good few minutes passed by of you just running around picking up anything and everything, insisting that it was a need and by this point jj had lost you - wandering around the frozen foods isle hoping to see a glimpse of your dark boots in the corner so the both of you could get back home and get your pretty mouth to work.

“hey you seem lost” the feminine voice comes from the side of him, he figured it must have been a worker trying to trick him into buying some stupid shit he definitely didn’t need, “oh-uh no i’m good - just looking for my girlfriend, you seen her aroun-”

“silly of her to leave a guy as cute as you roaming around” she interrupts taking a few steps closer, hand raising up to graze against his chest. he was quick to shut the interaction down, readied to leave the situation and find you as quick as possible “umm- uh- no thanks?” he mutters out before pacing over to the end of the isle, catching a glimpse of your overflowing cart - you’d have had to be close

but before he could feel his self leave the breeze of cold, invited by the multiple freezers in the section - he could feel the same hand grab at his wrist, causing him to pause in his tracks “my number, so y’can call me” the frilled voice lets out before turning away, walking to the other side ignoring his call for her to take the small piece of paper back.

and to his luck, before he could chuck the piece of paper into the nearest bin and pretend the unwarranted interaction never happened, he was met with your mean glare in front of him eyeing the piece of paper and the figure of the girl who was making her way out

jj was many things but he wasn’t an idiot debatable, he was quick to rush and explain and ramble about whatever had happened “i mean i said no- and she just like grabbed me and gave me it- ill throw it away right now baby”

“no”

it was the first word you’d said this whole time, he was confused were you upset?were you mad? and if you were mad,was it at him? at her? before he could bombard you with a million questions you ushered the paper towards you before shoving it into the endless void of your purse. you continued as normal grabbing the blonde close to your side and strutting off towards the till, leaving him in his constant state of confusion

the ride back was quiet , unusually quiet - the air,which would typically be filled the sound of jj chattering away with your occasional inputs, was completely and utterly silent “uh- g-got anything to say kitty cat” the blonde pogue breaks first, voice booming through the undisturbed silence , hands drumming at the steering wheel

“nope” the soft pop of ‘p’ was the last sound before it fell back into the discomforting silence, “right..right - are you annoy-” the messy haired blonde begins, but is stopped as soon as he feels your hand creeping up his thigh - loosely playing with the button of his shorts

“you were saying something?” it was less of a question and more of a tease, eyes looking up at him knowingly that this could go two ways “what-uh-no-no…just wanted to say you look so so hot babe” he starts to ramble, hand engulfing yours before leading it down his cargo shorts “must be annoying being that hot n’ i just wow ok” the last words come out more of a breathy moan, as you play around with the tip of him, yanking his shorts down to let himself spring free - a soft groan following the action

it was almost like it was a game, watching him get harder with every touch, every gentle stroke. “eyes on the road” you remind him, leaning down to press a tender kiss on the mushroom tip of his dick - tongue swirling around on the head “fuucck-” the blonde clearly eager, utters underneath his breath, a quiet whimper leaving his mouth “cant wait to get home n’show that pretty pussy how much i love her” he continues making your cunt involuntary clench at the propsal

“bet she couldn’t make you feel like this” you challenge referencing the random girl at the store previously ,hands stroking up and down his aching length before sinking your mouth down his dick, bobbing up and down “not even a chance baby” he moans, hips thrusting upwards at the red light

the dingy car was filled with the sounds of choked breaths and loud groans as the blonde continued to fuck your throat “such a good girl f’me huh?” voice coming out raspy and breathless, pulling you off him, waiting for answer “aren’t you kitty cat?”

“mhmmmmm” he swore he could’ve cum right there, you looked so cock drunk for him, he let go of your hair - shifting his attention back to the road was harder than it seemed, with the way you went back to working your mouth on him - it was impossible not to cum but he resisted because he knew that the only place he was cumming tonight was deep in between your gummy walls, filling you with all his babies

it was feral. how quick he was to park the car and lead you into the empty home, lips colliding with each other sloppily throughout the whole way. the large clatter of your purse and his keys and whatever nonsense that you both held was blanketed by the wet sounds of your mouths, tongues swirling around each other. it was messy, so so messy but a care couldn’t be found in the world as the blonde pushed you against the shitty old couch, mouth peppering rough kisses along your jaw

“bet this pussy is so wet f’me” his hand made its way to roughly pull of the mini skirt you’d been wearing, throwing it to some random corner of the room, eyes focused on the damp spot on your panties. it wasn’t long before he was planting a deep long kiss to your now bare pussy, panties torn off the moment he saw them “she’s lookin’ so pretty” he pants, fingers reaching up to pinch at the little nub causing a slight hiss from you “jayy- ngh- fuck me please” the ache in you was so so prominent now, all you wanted him to do was pound your guts while he told you that he was all yours

“so so needy today…huh?” jj knew you too well, he knew exactly what that look in your eyes meant “don’t worry baby….g’nna fuck you so good- show you that this dick is allll yours”

the harsh whine you make as he sinks himself in is a sound jj wishes he could tattoo in his mind, it was so perfect, so needy -just like you. your hand scrambled to the tops of his head , fingers gripping the ruffled hair and bringing him down closer to you, kissing all over his face muttering the word ‘mine’ between each peck

“yeah- fuck- all yours m’promise” he pants, tongue darting out to wet his lips before nuzzling his head in the crevice of your neck, sucking harshly against the soft skin. he lifts his head up placing his forehead against yours, one hand gripping onto the armrest of the scruffy couch, while the other reaches inbetween your sweaty bodies pressed together to rub at your sensitive little clit making you let out an almost pornographic moan.

“jayyy m’so close…please” you had no idea what you were mewling at him for, but you needed to be in his bones, in his blood at this moment because the sight of his eyebrows furrowed and eyes focused on pounding into your cunt restlessly had you wanting him to live in your skin

“yeah c’mon baby….cum for me know y’can” his hips don’t falter, thrusting faster, harder and deeper, while his fingers rubbed at your poor clit and with one soft pinch you were coming undone all over him “ngh-m’cummin-fuck fuck fuck” it wasn’t long before the taller boy was joining you in your high, the feel of your velvety walls squeezing him was enough to make him coat your insides with his cum with a loud groan

you two lay there for a while, he was still inside you, both of your orgasms forming a white wring around the base of him “ i think i got her real good” the blonde mumbles into your neck, hand carelessly grazing against your clit, stopping after the squeal you let out “just checking up on her…kay?” body slowly lifting off yours as he pulls himself out, yanking up his cargo shorts, leaving you feeling empty. his head moving down to inspect your cunt. it was selfish but he couldn’t help but press a few chaste kisses against your quivering hole “jay….no more please” you plead, eyes all teary from the stimulation

“just givin’ her a little love baby, don’t worry” he argues, mouth hovering over your mound before kissing all over. god he looked so perfect, one hand moving to grab his phone, while the other tangled itself in his hair - taking a few pictures of him, face buried deep in your pussy. yours, he was yours

so it was no surprise to jj when he received a text later in the night from a random number calling him an asshole, opening it to find that someone had sent the photos from earlier in the afternoon

[neeoooon]

FFXIV Write 2024, Prompt 4 "Reticent"

One Hour of One Night in the Black Shroud 882 words ARR, Mild swearing

“Pmph!” 

Holiday’s ass hit the damp, rocky, worm-filled ground with a sound between a “puff” and a “plop.”

She landed first on the left asscheek, followed immediately by the right elbow. The elbow, in an act of vengeance against the body, slipped on a patch of wet moss, rocketing her head into the dirt. A momentary return to the bliss of thoughtless oblivion. 

The void faded, and with eyes open and ears ringing, Holiday attempted to center herself. It was nighttime. She was no longer in a basement casino. A tiny tree slug crawled gently across her knee, welcoming her to the forest with a wiggle of its eyestalks. The slug’s slime trail glistened and sparkled, reflecting moonlight in repugnant beauty. A wet leaf tickled the back of her neck. Through the dim light and a concussed brain, the Black Shroud appeared a majestic and ethereal place of untold wonder. 

“Don’t come back, asshole. I memorized your face.” 

The slug had spoken, or so she believed, and it was a rude little bastard. How could she “come back” when she just arrived? Why was it being so mean? She turned inward to reflect on what could have offended the slug.

Two towering Viera men, who had chucked her on her backside, impatiently waited for a response. Viera A, the one who had spoken, shook his head wearily. Viera B, who had slightly shorter hair than A, turned away.

“It’s late, shouldn’t we head back?” He was already leaving. “I saw her move. She’s fine.”

“Oh, is the little baby scared of the forest? Might get a spider in your hair?”

Viera A bellowed a mocking laugh at his buddy, the sound cracking through the eerily silent evening.

Startled out of her stupor by the onset of an argument, she sat up and turned toward the two men. The dark world around her swam and warped; through blurry eyes the men and forest merged. Hybrid rabbit-tree creatures loomed in the darkness, waving their branch-like arms. Creature B turned and swung at Creature A, connecting with nothing but fog and spores. The two traded sloppy punches until one doubled over. 

“Stop. I’m sorry, okay? Enough.” Viera B crumpled into a pathetic, defeated ball.  “My shift is almost over. Go back on your own.”

Viera A lingered, covertly trying to catch his breath. “I will, uh,” he inhaled through his nose, “I will see you tomorrow.” 

Thunder rumbled overhead, shaking the local animals from their nests. A bat or bird screeched as it flew out of the inky, verdant abyss, landing on a branch just behind the trio. Holiday craned her neck, chin to the sky, trying to see the animal: It was a bird. Locking eyes with a great brown owl, she felt the power of the forest rise within her. She was very drunk.

“Hey, you sons of bitches!” Staggering to her feet, Holiday tried to square up. She looked around and found one Viera missing, and the other walking off slowly. “Hey! Hey you! Hey! Turn around!” He wanted to ignore her, but sped up. “Heeeeey!” She screamed after him, having shaken off the concussion-induced reticence. The brewing storm threatened to unload a torrent of rain any moment now. Viera B disappeared behind a tree, leaving her alone in the woods. 

Holiday held her dress shoes in one hand and walked gingerly through the wet grass. She kept her thoughts about the situation to herself (Disgusting. Wet. Stupid Shroud. Hate it. Someone should install lamps or something).  Elementals had a reputation that waffled between “story for children” and “real being who will smite you for no reason.” Anyone stuck in the woods at night would err toward appeasing the latter. Gridania had nightmare fuel to spare: In addition to Elementals, you had to worry about less mythical but equally volatile enemies like swarms of bees, angry trees, and Ixal. On the more mythical side, you had Odin, as well as the various hunt marks who patrolled certain areas.

The silhouette of a large man materialized ahead of Holiday. She had finally caught up to Viera A or B. “Which way is the city?” She shouted at the figure, assuming he was headed to either Gridania or back to the Lavender Beds ferry dock. The man neither responded nor moved at all. She trotted forward, repeating herself: “Which way?”

The sky unloaded its cargo. Rain fell in heavy, angry drops. A streak of purple lighting forked down from the clouds, striking the top of a tree. BOOM. Another bolt lit up the forest, and Holiday could see the man before her clearly: He was taller than both Viera and ten times as hairy. The fuzzy man-shaped being wore a full suit of brown fur, covering him from neck to oversized toes, which were attached to oversized feet. He didn’t speak, but his big brown eyes bored deep into her soul. The two stood in the darkness and rain, both equally confused by the unexpected meeting. 

Slowly, and carefully, Holiday raised one hand to signal harmlessness, while the other dug into a dress pocket. She pulled out a couple pieces of wrapped candy and offered them. “Food. For you.” 

He took the candy and darted off into the night, never to be seen again.

[pedros-mustache]

summer shower || domestic!din

word count: ~2.1k

warnings: smut (18+ only—get out of my kitchen): shower sex, body worship, brief oral (f receiving), p in v sex. also: weirdly emo, references to military service, language, x fem!reader

a/n: chucking this into the void because i am not Satisfied with it in the slightest and there is a ridiculous of me in it that i hate. but the people asked and this is what my fingers produced. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“You know, if we were somehow doused in harmful chemicals, all of us—and I mean all of us—would fit in this shower fine.”

You stumble in the hotel room’s narrow passage, the peculiar remark rendering you without equilibrium. Fingers still poised at your earlobe, heavy jewelry swaying between your grasp, you lean back to peer into the bathroom. “I’m sorry—what?”

You find your husband standing in the middle of the shower, arms extended at his sides. He swivels his head right and left, judging the width of the shower stall by his arm span. With a tilt of his head and a quick lift of his brows, he deems it acceptable. 

You smile, pressing your shoulder to the doorframe, inspecting him inspect the hotel’s accommodations. His dress uniform fits him well, the navy suit pulled taut around his broad shoulders. His bow tie—untied as soon as the hotel door shut—hangs loose around his neck, and his chest weighs heavy with his decorations and ribbons. Captain Din Djarin, respected officer of the Air Force, somehow able to put on a regulation flight cap and still look fuckable.

You do like it when he dresses up for these yearly events—the galas and the charity functions, the parties that give you a weekend away from home, a weekend to yourselves. You do like it when he drags the dry cleaned suit out of the closet and you hang on his arm in a glitzy dress, the whole world slobbering at his feet, eating from his palm, for a single evening.

You just like it much better when he puts the uniform away. When he is simply... Din.

He drops his arms and glances at the rainfall shower head, pulling you from your thoughts. “Think about it: if the kids were here and a vat of nuclear waste fell on top of us, we’d be perfectly fine all jumping in the shower at once. Not a tight fit at all.”

Your lips can’t help but stretch into an amused smirk. “You’ve been watching too many superhero movies with Davin.”

“Maybe.” He steps out of the stall, and the glass door swings shut on a whisper. “But I can lay flat on my back with my feet pressed to one side of the shower and barely touch the other. And I’m six fucking four.”

Waving a hand, you cross the title floor, tugging off your heels as you go. “Whatever you say, dear.”

It’s late, almost three in the morning if your phone is telling the truth. You’re tired, full from a good meal, a little fuzzy from too much champagne. Your flight leaves early in the morning and then it’s back to reality. Back to baby diapers and Davin’s chess practices and Grogu and his new job at the hardware store. Back to push and pull and give, give, give until you collapse, delirious, on your bed each night. 

Are you a bad mother if don’t want to go home quite yet? You aren’t sure.

You busy yourself with your nighttime routine: vitamins then medication, makeup remover then foaming cleanser, and so on and so on until your pocketbook runs dry. Din thinks the twelve step ritual is ridiculous, but after giving birth twice and parting ways with the youth and vigor you clutched through your teen years, you aren’t sure he understands.

You’re part way through step six—eye cream—when you feel him, tall and firm, slide behind your back. His hands skim down the length of your torso, pads of his fingers catching on the sequins of your gown. You lean forward undisturbed, dabbing the white cream beneath your eye, and he hums, pressing himself into your ass.

“I liked looking at you tonight,” he whispers, catching your focused gaze in the mirror. He pushes his palm against your stomach, his semi tucked between your cheeks, and plants a warm, wet kiss behind your ear. “You looked beautiful.”  

Your face softens to a smile, and you lower your hands, setting the eye cream aside. “I liked looking at you. I always like it when you get gussied up.”

“Not about me,” he mumbles. He moves his hands to the clasp at the top of your gown, fiddling with it until you feel the halter straps release your neck.

“Well, it’s kinda about you. I mean, tonight was about recognizing your unit and—”

Din shakes his head and tugs the top of your dress downwards with one hand. A gasp pulls from the back of your throat, and you resist the urge to hide your bare breasts beneath your forearms. You duck your head away from the reflection of yourself—half naked and studded with a diamond necklace at your breastbone. You look like... 

Fuck, you look like so much more than you are.

Even after all these years, the way Din eyes your body—so openly, so reverently—brings a certain heat to your most intimate places. You feel exposed before him, open and raw like a wound waiting for a healing bandage. He handles you with care, gently bringing his hands around to test the weight of your breasts in his palms. He nudges your nipple with his thumb, and you swallow hard, gripping the bathroom counter with manicured nails.

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you,” he continues. “Even when you were flirting with Vanth.”

Your jaw drops on an indignant frown. “I was not! I was—”

“‘s okay.” He drags his tongue from your earlobe to the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. “I know you have a little crush.” 

Shit, is it really that obvious? It’s just a harmless crush on a handsome man you see once a year. Nothing you would ever entertain. Din is your husband, your world, your... 

Fuck.

Your heart slams against your ribcage, and damn, if your eyes don’t look misty. “Din, I—”

“Shush.” 

He pinches your waist before shucking his hat and his jacket from his body. His eyes pierce yours in the mirror’s reflection, never once wavering, and you catch your lower lip between your teeth, gnawing the flesh there already picked raw with anxiety. You remain still, frozen under the smoldering intensity of his gaze, until he stands naked behind you. 

It’s hard to breathe, hard to think, when he looks at you like this; and even though you know him better than anyone, he still manages to remain unreadable in the moments you desire clarity the most. The hard line of his jaw and the fold of his brow could mean any number of things, and you card through your rolodex of past events, past missteps and offenses, searching for whatever you did last time to make it better. 

When he takes your elbow, you stiffen. 

Din sighs, shoulders dropping. “Sweet girl...” Gently, he urges you to turn around, and you comply until the small of your back meets the cool countertop. He lifts your chin with his knuckle then gestures to the lower half of your gown. “Need help with that?”

It’s a dance, this moment, one you think you’ve perfected over the years. You surrender, wrapping your arms around his neck as he wiggles the gown over your hips. The fabric pools by your feet, and you kick it away, sealing your mouth over his. He kisses you—slippery and sweet and everything you need when your fragile walls tremble at the slightest upset. His hands mold over your body, pressing and massaging whatever flesh he can find. His hard length folds against your stomach, and you resist the urge to stroke him, make him happy through your touch alone.

Not about me, he said. You know well enough what he means.

Into the shower stall, where hot water fills your lashes and still he kisses you, his tongue an extension of the words he does not know how to form. You sigh, pulling away for a breath of steamy air. His skin feels slick beneath your hands, and you dip your head back, allowing him access to your neck. The diamond necklace, the one he clipped on before the dinner party, clicks against his teeth.

“So pretty.” He grabs handfuls of your ass, spreading the cheeks slightly until you feel your heat part. “God, you get me so hard.”

You whimper. It’s all you can manage when your head is so full of other.

“Sit back,” he says suddenly, an edge to his voice. “Sit back on that ledge.”

You open your eyes and look over your shoulder to the small ledge tucked in the shower corner. Din leans over and swipes the tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner onto the floor. They clatter and slide against the slick tiles, rolling away to the opposite side of the stall, and then he’s pushing you by the hips, forcing you to sit, and spreading your legs before you have the chance to realize what’s happening. 

He swipes his tongue over your folds—one quick, flat drag of the muscle over your wet cunt. You shudder, and he lifts his face from between your legs.

“I know you have a crush, pretty girl.” He slides a thick finger into your tight heat, and you choke on a groan when he crooks his knuckle. 

“I know you get kinda giddy thinkin’ about seeing Vanth once a year. And that’s okay.” He leans down to tug your clit between his teeth; you bite down hard enough on your lip to draw blood.  

“You’re more than a mom,” he says, and your heart stops. He kisses the left side of your cunt, dipping his tongue into your slick for the briefest, most glorious of seconds. “You’re more than my wife.” The same tender care to your right side, and you slide against the ledge, limbs weak. 

“You’re a woman. And I love that.” 

Din seals his mouth over your cunt, digging his tongue between your folds like a prospector at a goldmine. He dimples your thighs with his fingertips and cards his tongue against your body, searching for any nugget of wealth you may possess. He finds your clit with ease and focuses there, swirling the nub in erratic motions that keeps hovering you at the edge.

It’s strange. The tears that spring to your eyes are borne of sheer pleasure. Your husband kneels on the shower floor and eats at you like a man starved. How could you not cry? Still too, he sees you—he acknowledges you—and that makes you cry all the more. 

Before the damn can burst, you jerk your hips away from his face. You slap his shoulder, sliding to your feet on the wet floor. The shower water runs tepid now, and your body chills where the showerhead cannot reach. 

It doesn’t matter.

Din remains on his knees, staring up at you. You’ve never felt more...

Wanted.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, body buzzing. Alive. “Fuck me.”

He nods.

Notching his hand in the pit of your knee, he wrenches you forward.

You relax your legs and lower yourself to the floor, fully accepting the hard press of his cock at your entrance. Gripping his shoulders, you slide down his length until he is sheathed in your core. His mouth finds your chin, and you gasp, water catching in the pool of your mouth. 

He begins a slow rhythm—forward and backward, forward and backward—until you all but bounce on his cock. It’s hedonistic, pornographic, and hard on your aging bodies, but he fucks you well and earnestly. He slams into your pussy, mumbling against your skin words that set your heart aflame. 

How much he adores you—and loves his life with you—and how he regrets nothing. Not a single moment.

You cum with a high-pitched cry, dropping backwards to catch yourself on the floor when your legs spasm around his hips. The orgasm shreds through the heavy veil you drag by your feet, the one you wear from time to time, when you cannot find yourself amongst the forest of your own mind. You burst like sunlight, and Din follows shortly, his fingertips gripping your hips as he continues to slam—there, always there—into your cunt.

He slips from your body and drags himself to your side, pushing wet strands of hair away from your face. Shower water beats down on your skin, washing away the evidence of your desire for one another. Din doesn’t seem to mind; you don’t either. 

He kisses your cheek, nuzzling his nose against your temple. “My girl.” 

Your eyelids flutter shut, and you smile, holding fast to the forearm laid across your breasts. “Always your girl.”

[moonlight-prose]

(this hot ass fuck gif is by the amazing @buckybarnesj from this set)

𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

a/n: did this gif inspire this small drabble? yes. but can you blame me? this is named after an anthony ramos song, because as of right now his entire album is inspiring me to write things. hopefully you enjoy this random thot i'm chucking into the void before I sleep. there's tons of bucky stuff on the way so prepare for that.

not edited or beta read so there's mistakes.

summary: twenty minutes was all you had, so you were going to do what could to show your husband how much you loved him.

word count: 2.2k

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS GO AWAY YOU'RE NOT WELCOME, cussing as always, oral (male receiving), slight face fucking if you squint (not really), masturbation, cock worship, teeny tiny bit of exhibitionism if you really really squint, a fluffy ending. let me know if i missed anything!

You weren’t sure what managed to happen for you to end up in this situation, but you were far from complaining. Not with the way he looked above you, eyes shut tight = unable to handle the sight of you. Sin dressed in all black that had you salivating the second he walked out of the room - his glare lessening at the sight of you in a dress.

Sharon gave you twenty minutes to rest before joining downstairs. Twenty minutes to do what you wanted before you had to inevitably return back to the job, and as you watched him make himself comfortable on the couch you realize - twenty minutes was all you needed. Three weeks you’d been without him, attempting to help where you could around the world and now that you were back to help him it had been painful to keep your hands to yourself.

Three weeks.

Far too long to go without showing him how much you loved him. How much you missed his voice, his touch, every little detail about this man. You thanked the universe for making sure luck was on your side, because as soon as the room emptied you were walking towards him. Watching as he fiddled with his hands - eyes glancing around the room.

“Something wrong?” you asked, drawing his attention back your way - the quick flash of his smile already causing your stomach to clench in need.

“I don’t like new places.”

That you knew to be a fact; memories of him antsy in every new place you went to came back, and you realized why he wanted to go home already. He knew his home. Knew the ins and outs - where the exits and entrances were - in his home, and that created a safe place for him.

He didn’t know this place.

“Bucky.” Dropping onto the couch beside him you took his hand in yours, running your thumb along his wrist to help slow his heartbeat. Something you knew would be racing at a time like this. “If it helps I’m here and don’t plan on going anywhere.”

Another smile brought your own out. “Always helps, baby.”

The pause between you lasted several minutes, drawn out by the way he stared at you. An unreadable expression on his face that had you ready to ask what he was thinking about. What went on in that mind of his. Except you didn’t want to break the silence; peaceful in all it’s anxiety-filled seconds, because it gave you two time to yourselves. No noise of people coming after the both of you, no need to rush downstairs. Just the two of you at last.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled, tugging you closer by your wrist until you were practically stretched across his lap.

Twenty minutes. That’s all you had and it seemed he understood that as much as you, because his hands immediately went for the straps of your dress. Yanking them down, his lips collided with yours in a kiss you felt down to the very tips of your toes. You gasped into his mouth as his fingers tugged on your nipple, hands digging into the lapels of his suit jacket to keep yourself steady. The feeling of your stomach twisting in pleasure was enough to have you remain in place. Desperate for anything he’d give you.

You wouldn’t last for that long - that you knew for sure, and he knew it as well. If the way you grinded on his leg let him know how you felt.

“I want to fuck you,” he whispered, chest heaving from the way the kiss left him breathless.

“Later.” For three weeks all you could imagine was seeing him a certain way and you wouldn’t turn that down now. Not when you had a limited amount of time to do anything.

“What do you mean later?” he asked, trying to pull up the skirt of your dress. “Please.”

You shook your head, sliding off his lap and falling to your knees before you, hands already reaching for the button on his jeans. The realization of later finally dawned on him and his mouth dropped open, hips rising as you began to tug on his pants. When you finally returned to the warmth of your home, you’d give into the urge to let him take you however he wanted, but now you’d give him this.

Give yourself the sight of him falling apart before your very eyes.

“You don’t have to,” he said, eyes unable to stay on a single part of you; flashing between your bare exposed chest or your eyes.

“I want to James.”

Going down on him had always been a challenge, something you had to be stubborn about, because knowing Bucky he would do anything to return the favor instead. He would take over faster than you expected and suddenly it was you writhing in pleasure unable to say anything but his name. A feat that he mastered perfectly.

“Baby-” he started, the argument on the tip of his tongue.

Glancing up you let out a breath, hands falling away from his jeans in defeat. “Do you not want me to? It’s okay if you don’t.”

Twenty minutes had turned into ten minutes and you began to tug the top of your dress back up. There wasn’t much you could do in ten minutes, but you were okay with that. If there’s one thing you refused to do it was make him do anything he felt uncomfortable doing. Smiling up at him you kissed the palm of his hand, shifting to stand up and rejoin him on the couch.

Except his hand tugged you back to where you were, a new look in his eyes. One you knew extremely well; one you ached to see. He cupped your jaw quickly, thumb pressing against the seam of your lips to part them. Without question you took it into your mouth, sucking on it well enough to have him shifting where he sat, his own mouth parting slightly at the sight.

“Well,” he said, voice dropping the longer you swirled your tongue around his thumb. “What are you waiting for, pretty girl?”

“Are you sure?”

His lips curved into a smile as he began to pull himself out of his pants, hand pumping his own length slowly enough to entice you. Bucky liked to be stubborn about his own pleasure, but seeing you disappointed because you couldn’t give him something was what changed his mind. You came first, before him, before anyone and Bucky found himself unable to control the way his body reacted to that look in your eyes.

One he had been dreaming about for three weeks.

He turned his head quickly to check for people, more for your sake than his. Something that had become a routine when things like this happened; more often than either of you could control. With him staying home and you being on the run to help people you stole the time that had been allotted to you. Making the most out of every moment.

Even if it was ten minutes on a couch in the middle of Sharon’s place.

“Ten minutes,” he said, smiling at your eagerness. His heart was ready to burst from how much he loved you and he hoped you harbored the same emotions.

You winked at him, moving his hands out of the way and taking the tip of him into your mouth quickly, rendering him a mess already. He hissed in pleasure, his hands digging into the fabric of the cough beside him so as not to force your head down all the way. Ten minutes only gave you so much time to make him finish, but you’d take your time whilst doing it.

He watched, enraptured as you raised your head enough to let spit fall onto his cock, slicking him as you pumped your hand. What the fuck he did to deserve you he had no idea, but he was thanking the universe for sending him your way. Licking at the tip you moan at the taste of him, unable to deny the way your body beared down on nothing. You could feel your clit throb when you took him back into your mouth, sinking down as slowly as possible until your nose was nearly pressed against the base of him.

“Oh - fuck!” he shouted, digging his teeth into the fist of his flesh hand, fighting the urge to thrust upwards.

Only you wanted that. Wanted him to use you however he wished and so you tapped his thigh, breathing steadily through your nose.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he panted out, guiding your head lightly. Placing just enough pressure to keep you in place as he began to slowly fuck your throat.

You were ready to explode, unable to stop yourself from slipping your hand under the skirt of your dress to put pressure on your clit. The taste of him, the sound of him, all of it drove you to the very edge on its own and you could barely contain your arousal. You didn’t want to contain it. Running your along the underside of his cock you pulled off to breathe, catching the fucked out look on his face before moving lower and licking lightly at his balls.

“Babe,” he gasped, head falling against the couch.

“You taste so good.” A moan spilled from your lips as you pushed two fingers into yourself just to satiate the desire to be filled by this man. Right now wasn’t about you; this was his pleasure and you were more than happy to give it to him.

“I’m - shit-” His chin pressed to his chest, watching as you sucked one of his balls into your mouth, laving your tongue over it. “-‘m not going to last long.”

Neither were you if you were being honest. You were right there - waiting for him to fall off the edge with you.

“Cum for me James.” Sucking on the tip you sunk down once more until he pushed against your throat, and you grabbed his hand to press against the back of your head.

It wouldn’t take long and you were certain time was running out fast. Who knows when someone would come check on the both of you - the thought of it exhilarating enough to have you clenching around your fingers. He needed to cum - now - because you could feel your release building up within you. Threatening to be all consuming.

Swallowing around him you used your other hand to toy with his balls, feeling his thighs shake beneath you as he finally gave into his orgasm. A cry of your name echoed off the walls, his head falling back quickly, only to snap towards you at the sound of your moan. He shuddered beneath you when he caught sight of your hand moving quickly as you attempted to prolong your release, even as you swallowed him down.

“I love you,” he breathed out, awe clear on his face at watching you pull off and gasp for air.

You were positive that you looked messy; your lips slick with spit and his cum, your fingers soaked in your own release. It didn’t matter, because he was dragging you up into his lap within seconds, sliding your wet fingers into his own mouth, groaning at the taste of you. Something he had missed while you were gone. Bucky had half a mind to spread you on the floor as he dined on his dessert for the night - a meal sitting before him.

Letting out a giggle you pulled the strap of your dress back up your shoulder, securing it quickly and beginning to wipe at your lips, trying to seem at least semi-presentable before someone barged in. Bucky did the same, tucking himself back into his pants, yanking you closer for a kiss that had you sagging into his chest.

“I love you more,” you whispered, pushing your nose against his.

He smiled. “Impossible.”

“Oh it’s very possible Mr. Barnes.”

“Oh is it now Mrs. Barnes?” he asked, cupping your chin and running his thumb along your bottom lip - cleaning up what you missed.

Right on cue the door slammed open to reveal Sam and Sharon deep in conversation. His outfit had been changed to a turtleneck and leather jacket and you wondered how Sharon knew you were coming to have clothes in everyone’s size ready to go. She stopped in place at the sight of you straddling Bucky’s lap, his metal hand gripping your thigh.

“On my couch? Are you serious?” she exclaimed. “We were gone for ten minutes.”

Apparently it had taken less time than you originally thought. Smiling you buried your face into Bucky’s neck, hearing him say the one word that would definitely get you banned from ever returning to Sharon’s place.

“Oops,” he said, earning a laugh from Sam.

“Fuck you Barnes,” Sharon sighed, pouring herself a drink.

You were content to remain right where you were, the feeling of his hand running down your back as you breathed him in. A moment that was rare with the life you two led, but perfect all the same.

bucky barnes tags:

@karasong @aaliyasaurus @queenbbarnes @charmedbysarge @jenrebloggingfics @princess76179 @spideysimpossiblegirl @intothesoul

permanent tags:

@pamguini @blondekel77 @the-purity-pen @princess-and-pedro @phoenixhalliwell @justanotherblonde23 @autumnleaves1991-blog @Greeneyedblondie44 @amelia-song-pond @ladylothlorien @littlebopper96 @a-little-counter-esperanto @cap-n-stuff @agirllovespancakes

[stratiotis-nth]

Ever since Cas came back and turned human, it would seem he’s stopped giving a shit about literally everything. When Dean noticed this new aspect of Cas’ colorful personality, he had made himself paranoid that Cas would suddenly start flirting with him on the regular now that his big confession was out in the open.

So while Dean was scared shitless, he was confusingly disappointed when Cas didn’t do that at all.

No. The first thing the ex-angel did after surviving another encounter with death was start a Shotgun war with Sam.

And no, not the bang bang kinda shotgun.

“Shotgun!” Cas practically bellowed down the corridor as the three of them were getting ready to get dinner.

“That’s not fair, Cas! I’m in the bathroom!” Sam complained through the closed door. Cas ignored him completely as he strode past and ducked into the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean, who had been desperately trying to stay out of this war, just gave Cas a sideways smile.

“Y’know, the rules are you can’t call shotgun until you actually see the car, Cas.” He told him, his lips tugging up in amusement and…just happiness that Cas was close.

“Until Sam demands to implement this rule, I will abuse his ignorance.” Cas replied, smiling softly. Once again, every time Cas won the passenger seat, Dean wanted to ask what was with his sudden obsession with it. It wasn’t like Cas hadn’t been stubborn enough to claim it before he became human. He wondered what changed, why Cas suddenly cared about seating arrangements. But, as he had been doing ever since they got Cas back (again), Dean bit his tongue. He didn’t want to overwhelm the newly human with the tsunami of questions he had.

Sam griped the entire way to the diner, grumbling about being squished even though Dean knew there was more than enough space. Cas sat next to Dean, watching the trees amble by with a serene, totally unaffected smile on his face. Pleased as a pickle. Dean was fighting his own internal battle between his burning questions and undying amusement at Sam’s plight.

At the diner, Cas sat next to Dean. That much was hardly anything new. The two just naturally gravitated towards each other, and after Dean caught himself drifting mindlessly towards Cas more times than he could count, he stopped giving him grief about personal space.

Cas’ thigh brushed up against his almost the entire meal. Dean pretended not to notice, but internally, he was melting into a puddle of bi panic.

In the parking lot, Sam was quick to call shotgun when Cas got distracted by their waitress catching up to him and giving him her phone number. Dean was too busy bristling and snapping at Cas to hurry up to even notice Sam was sitting next to him.

Cas sulked the entire ride home, the waitress’ number stuffed into one of his pockets. Dean tried not to think that maybe Cas was saving her number for another time.

On Saturday, it was Dean’s turn to go on a food run. Sam was busy working a ghoul case with Eileen, so when Cas wanted to come along there was no yelling match over the front. He ducked into the passenger seat and just about blinded Dean’s poor weak heart with a smile that crinkled his nose.

They fought over eggs for about twenty minutes in the diary aisle. Dean win by threatening to give Sam exclusive access to shotgun. Cas relented with a glower that could have smote demons if he still had his grace.

Eventually, Sam did implement the rule about only calling shotgun with the car in sight, and as the weeks went by and Dean’s silent journey is self realization unfolded, the war at escalated. Now, neither of them could call shotgun without all three of them being in sights of the car. It had gotten bad enough that Sam and Cas waited impatiently for Dean in the garage, staring expectantly for him to round the corner so they could have their yelling match.

Cas nearly blew Dean’s eardrums out, bellowing “SHOTGUN!” loud enough to drown out Sam. He angrily opened his mouth to argue when his phone started ringing.

“It’s Eileen.” He said, his back snapping straight and immediately answering the video call. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Can you give me a ride?” Dean could hear Eileen’s voice over the tinny speakers. “My car broke down and the nearest shop is two hours away.”

“Where are you?”

“An hour away from you? It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Dean saw Sam’s face soften, the tension of worry falling away. He butted in, sticking his face in view of the camera so Eileen could read his lips.

“Just tow it here. I can patch your ride.” He said. “Sam can take the tow truck.”

“Are you sure?” Eileen asked.

“Course. ‘Sides, those guys won’t give you a fair price anyway.” Dean flapped his hand dismissively.

“Thanks, Dean.” Eileen beamed, and oh, Dean knew that smile. Mischievous and damnit, she had planned this from the start, hadn’t she? Just to get a free repair out of him. Dean squinted suspiciously at her, and Eileen just wiggled her eyebrows.

“Cas and I can pick up the curse box and meet you two back here in a few hours.” Dean said. He saw Cas immediately brighten, having secured the passenger seat.

Cas was looking particularly triumphant as they drove, his knees rocking back and forth in a content, mindless sort of way. Finally, Dean couldn’t hold back the question anymore.

He had done his work accepting the fact that he wasn’t as straight as he thought, that it wasn’t very heterosexual to stare at Cas’ lips or pop an awkward boner seeing him all cleaned up after Purgatory, or completely shutting down every time he died or getting all prickly when waitresses give him her phone number. He was gay for Cas, and he had just gotten around to accepting this. Cas said he loved him, right? so Dean shouldn’t be afraid or rejection or anything. Yeah, no he was terrified.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He turned to him with that soft smile that Dean wanted all to himself.

“I gotta ask, man,” Dean chuckled a little awkwardly and kept his eyes firmly on the road. “Why are you so determined about sitting shotgun? You’ve never been before.”

“Ah.” Cas hummed, turning back to the road too. “I suppose now I have the freedom to pursue the things I want. Chuck is gone and my deal with the Empty is null in void. I have time to…focus my attentions on other things.”

“The things you want? What, you got a better view up here or something?”

“Well yes, the windshield does allow more viewing space.” Cas agreed. “But it’s not my main goal in doing all this.”

“Then…what is?”

“Dean.” Cas said in that ever patient, you’re-being-dumb-about-this voice. “I enjoy being up here because it allows me to be closer to you. You are the view I most admire, Dean. I’m always so helplessly drawn to you.”

Dean’s mouth had gone a little dry and his grip on the wheel was suddenly sweaty. The silence that fell was deafening. Cas didn’t even look concerned. He just sat there waiting the road as if he hadn’t just said something so…so…soft to Dean.

Helplessly drawn. Like Cas couldn’t bear being away from him. Like Dean was this perfect, magnetic thing that Cas was enchanted by, something worth having around.

With a jerk of the wheel, Dean was pulling over on the side of the empty highway in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. He threw Baby into park before twisting around and staring at Cas.

He didn’t even look vaguely concerned, the fucker. He just gave Dean a patient look.

Dean opened his mouth, and closed it. Did it again, ready to tell Cas everything. Snapped his jaw shut.

Cas watched in cool amusement. Dean felt his cheeks get hot.

“Screw this.” He grumbled to himself, before lunging across the bench, grabbing Cas’ face with both hands, and kissing him square on the lips.

He felt Cas freeze for a moment, probably in total shock, before he started moving.

Dean nearly choked on a gasp as the chapped, warm lips started pushing and devouring, Cas was suddenly the one taking charge, shoving Dean back against his window as he clambered across the seats to get on top of him.

Twelve years of pent up emotions came crashing out in a sudden burst of unstoppable passion. And as soon as it started, it seemed to have stopped. They both were panting, Dean’s jeans were tight and his entire body screamed to have Cas against him again. But Cas had made to move away, putting space between him as he looked at Dean with wide eyes.

He didn’t get very far. Dean grabbed ahold of his jacket lapels and held on tight with an iron grip, keeping Cas hovering inches above him, basically sharing air.

“Wanna hear a secret?” He whispered between heavy breathes. Cas just blinked at him. “I’ve always rooted for you getting shotgun.”

Cas’ kiss swollen lips split into a dazzling smile, and he rewarded Dean with another intense make out session. When they pulled away, Dean found the words spilling out of his mouth.

“I love you too, Cas. You can have me. God, you have had me, for years you have. Can’t believe it took me so long, I’m sorry I made you think you couldn’t have me, I’m sorry it took me so long—“

Cas shut him up with another kiss, and Dean’s ramble faded into a helpless whimper that too was swallowed up by Cas.

“Does this mean I get exclusive shotgun privileges?” Cas asked a few hours later than they finally took the curse box off the poor shopkeeper’s hands. They had arrived nearly an hour late, not that Dean (or his dick for that matter) particularly cared.

“Honestly? Play it up to Sam and he might let you get away with it for a while.” Dean chuckled. Without even thinking too hard about it, his free hand slithered over the bench, grabbing Cas’ and entwining their fingers. Something so small and simple, yet made Dean light up like a sun.

If Cas didn’t manage to convince Sam, Dean sure as hell would.

[loversdelusion]

softer

deacon st. john x reader

part two of two

previous

"You're going to ask Iron Mike to give you the damn directions over the summit?" you eyed Deek curiously, a brow raised "This the same Iron Mike that specifically told you to fuck off and that he'd kill you if you ever showed your face at Lost Lake again?" Deacon sighed, rolling his eyes "I knew you'd say that exact sentence but baby, listen to me" Deacon stood in front of you, taking both your hands in larger ones.

Deacon looked at you with hope in his eyes "This is the best shot for us, getting away from all this will do us both some good" you hesitated, not yet wanting to agree with him having to go confront Mike himself to help you both over the pass.

"Fine.." you sighed, Deacon smiled softly, placing a kiss on your forehead "Just stay here, I'll be ba-" Deacon halted in his tracks as your hand wrapped around his wrist "I'll ask, probably have a better shot than you" you said, pulling Deacon back against his bike.

,Deacon sighed as he waited for you to come out from lodge, hopefully with Mike in tow, his eyes perked up at the sound of your laughter, he chuckled breathlessly as you walked out of the lodge with Mike right behind you, in a cheerful mood than earlier.

The mood was tense yet again as Mike approached Deacon, you almost felt the need to chew on your fingernails "This sweetheart has somehow convinced me to drive you both over the pass" Mike gestured to you, you smiled softly "If it gets you out of here, I'm all for it, don't get me wrong" his face was void of anything positive. "There's a way over the summit and unfortunately you are the only one who knows" Deacon grumbled, Mike nodded "Get ready then because when we leave, you ain't coming back" Mike's gaze hardened into Deacon's equally steely stare.

-

The drive up the pass was cold, the winds nipped at your exposed hands and cheeks, you and Deacon rode on your own bikes - not having the heart to leave it behind with Boozer "You okay?" Deacon's voice called through the walkie talkie, you flexed your hands on the handles "I- it's fucking cold.." Your voice shook as you replied "We're almost there, okay? It's only cold on the summit" you nodded, steeling your nerves.

-

Hope filled you as you finally made it to the top, Deacon came to a stop, you rose a brow, still shivering from the winds that randomly whipped through you "What's up?" You asked, seeing his head turned towards what was on the other side - your eyes widened. Scorched lands stretched as far as you could see, there was no tree in sight or patch of green grass "What the fuck..?" You muttered under your breath, Deacon continued on, making the way down seemed a whole lot easier than driving up.

-

You came through a small gorge, you could hear screams and shouts ahead, a cabin came into view, along with two Militia looking men and - a huge fucking infected grizzly bear, Deacon grunted as he slammed on his brakes, you coming to a slow stop "Stay here, don't come out until that thing is dead" he stated, not bothering to look back at you, your gaze hardened "You sure you can do this alone?" You asked wearily, eyes darting between him and the crazed bear, Deacon let out a heavy exhale "I got this".

-

Just as Deacon said he would, the bear fell and the two Militia men climbed down from the roof of the cabin, you were leaning on your bike, elbows resting on the gas tank and your chin in your hands as you watched the whole ordeal, you listened as the two men thanked Deacon endlessly, watching their interactions with him carefully "(Y/n)!" He shouted, the two men looked confused for a second until you drove into view.

"(Y/n), this is Russell and Mullins" he gestured to the two men, you nodded at them "Corporal Russell was about to take us to their camp" he looked back at the man named Russell who merely nodded "Of course, c'mon" he said, mounting his own bike "Mullins, you stay here! Guard the pass" Mullins protested but did so anyway.

On the way to Russell and Mullins' camp, Russell tells you about life in the camp - a military camp, explaining how things are done, who's in charge, what they do there.

-

He lead you and Deacon to a gate, towering defense walls on either side "Talk to Captain Kouri, he'll get you both set up, he should be over in the corner there" Russell gestured to the far left of the camp, he left you after that, you and Deacon dismounted your bikes, leaving them beside each other. "Are you sure about this?" You asked, Deacon looked at you "New beginning, remember?" He smiled softly at you, eyes darting around you both before he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead "Love you, sweetheart" he muttered lowly, you sighed softly and followed after him.

"Captain Kouri..?" Deacon asked the man sitting on a bench, the man's brows rose and he stood "At your service" Kouri shook Deacon's hand, a shining glint flashed in your vision, you looked down to see a very familiar ring on Kouri's hand, the same ring that Deacon gave Sarah on their last night together, Deacon noticed it too. Deacon tensed, the action unnoticed by Kouri, he pursed his lips and swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, you subtly jabbed Deacon's side, he shook his head, sighing softly. "Deacon, Deacon St. John, and this, this is (Y/n) (L/n)" Deacon gestured to you. You nodded as Kouri shook your own hand, he eyed you down, seeming to size you up before turning back to Deacon "You're the man that saved two of our own?" Kouri asked, Deacon nodded "Well, your help was very much appreciated".

-

Captain Kouri showed you around the Diamond Lake outpost, introducing the two of you to the vendors they had, the medbay, the sleeping quarters, cafeteria, you stared at the group of soldiers, training - well, moreso getting orders and insults barked at them by their leader, it seemed a little on the dreary side but if it's what kept them up and running, it works. "I was in the 10th Mountain" you could hear Deacon and Captain Kouri still talking behind you "And her?" You heard the Captain ask "She's a biologist, started out as a nurse" Kouri hummed "A person with military experience and another who could potentially save the world and help save lives while she's at it? We might as well have struck gold".

"We have two scientists already, both working on the same thing, but only one actual doctor, we might have to divide her time equally, we'll see what the commander has to say at the recruitment ceremony" you and Deacon shared a confused look.

-

You, Deacon and some hipster named Wade Taylor were chosen to work in the main camp, the other woman who was with you three was put in the work camp, she had a loud mouth anyway. You were weirdly given the rank of Lieutenant for your bachelor's degree in biology, you had a feeling it was mostly just so Colonel Garret could keep you under a more guarded watch and order, Deacon was given the rank of Corporal for his military expertise.

-

Garret gave you and Deacon a tour of Wizard Island, even taking you through what they called the Ark which was a large cave system in the mountain "Lieutenant" Garret stated, your spine went rigid "Yes, sir" you replied "Considering you'll be one of our scientists, I think it's important that you meet your colleagues". You brought your hand to your forehead in a salute "Of course, sir" you said, mentally cringing at the way you were acting - your military experience was slim, the only experience you've had was your father, didn't really teach you much though, besides discipline when you needed it most "You too, Corporal" Garret eyed Deacon beside you "Yes, sir".

Garret brought you to two tents that were directly beside each other, he stood at the door to the one on the right, he pushed it open "Lieutenant Weaver" Garret barked, a man stood to attention, saluting the Colonel "Sir" Garret stood rigidly, beside the table in the middle of the tent. "This is you and the Witch's newest addition, Lieutenant (L/n), and this is Corporal St. John" you saluted again, Deacon doing the same, your gaze was on the man's dingy lab coat "James Weaver, Lieutenant Weaver" he introduced himself to you. "Deacon St. John" Deacon stated, his posture set in stone "(Y/n) (L/n), Lieutenant (L/n)" he chucked as you repeated his words back to him, your tone world's lighter than Deacon's "Are you taking them to meet the Witch?" Your brow arched slightly "Yes, follow me" Garret stalked out of the tent, walking to the door of the left one.

"This is the tent of the Wizard Island Witch" you were confused at the name "She's a botanist and research scientist" your eyebrows furrowed briefly "I can see where the Witch title comes from" the Colonel's lips twitched upwards, he pushed the door open. Your ears filled with the sound of a woman scolding a grunt for not knowing how to read, you couldn't see her from where you stood outside, your eyes glanced to Deacon's, his stare already on you, you could feel his hand softly brushing against the back of yours, you wanted to hold his hand but Colonel Garret made it clear that romantic relationships were not tolerated.

When the grunt moved out of the way, the Witch had her back turned, you could see blonde hair tied into a tight, neat bun underneath a green cap, she had a black tank top on and camo green cargo pants tucked into black boots, something about the way she carried herself seemed so goddamn familiar, but you couldn't put your finger on why that seemed, your eyes couldn't pull away from the back of her head.

"Lieutenant" Garret called, you blinked, pulling yourself out of your trance, and glancing at Deacon, who seemed to be in the same problem as you, you tapped his hand with your pinky, his gaze darted down to you, his pinky softly wrapping around yours "Yes, sir" she finally replied, attention still mostly on whatever she was doing beforehand "I have some people here who I want you to meet" you could see that she was visibly annoyed, but she sighed and turned around anyway, and your world seemed to come crashing to an abrupt halt.

Your eyes widened and your palms started to sweat, your whole spine went rigid as you took in the sight of Sarah - who was very much alive after all, your mouth was dry and your slightly agape, you could feel the shock in Deacon too, just from holding his pinky with yours "Lieutenant Whittaker, meet Lieutenant (L/n) and Corporal St. John" Garret held his arm out to you, you unconsciously stepped forward, your hand slipping away from Deacon's, her blue gaze locked on yours as you blocked her view of Deacon.

You could tell by the look on her face that she recognized you too, the look of shock not unnoticed, she shook her head slightly "Yes, the new scientist" she spoke, her voice wavering as she held out her hand, your body seemed to be on autopilot as you shook it "Yeah, I uh- I was a biology major before this" the words left your dry lips without thinking, she nodded "We- we definitely can use that brain of yours" she smiled, nervously.

You stepped aside, her stare immediately darted back to Deacon "Corporal" Garret snapped Deacon out of his stupor, he took a few steps forward, his eyes nervously looking at you as he questioned everything, you couldn't comfort him - not now at least, but now you questioned if you could ever after this.

"Corporal Deacon St. John" he said simply, you could see that Sarah was still stunned but trying desperately to calm down, Garret could feel how tense it was as he cleared his throat "Corporal St. John" Deacon hesitantly saluted. "You will be catering to our scientists, whatever they need, you go out and get" your eyes lowered to the ground, you could barely feel yourself, everything felt suppressed, you could feel tears welling in your eyes, you cleared your throat "Colonel, sir" you said quickly, all eyes were on you. "May I step outside? It's just- spaces with this many people, have me on edge" the Colonel seemed to dwell on your request "Yes, don't go too far though" you nodded and practically bolted out of the tent, the cool air did nothing to quell the attack coming on, your feet carried you to the small garden that was outside Sarah's tent, you dropped to the ground at the back of it.

Your fists clenched tightly, your knuckles turning white, your whole body shook in tremors, your breathing was coming out shakily, you closed your eyes as tears slowly fell down your face. You sighed shakily as your head hit the small wall that fenced in the soil, your gaze on the clear, dull sky, you could barely feel anything "(Y/n)?" You barely heard Deacon calling out for you, or his presence beside you now. "(Y/n), baby look at me" his voice was calm, his hands gently grasping your chin, bringing your gaze back down to him, his heart clenched, painfully as he took in your pained expression - you were heartbroken, plain and simple, but why?.

He held your face in his hands, his expression mirroring yours as realization set in on what was wrong, I mean what couldn't be wrong right now, not exactly wrong but still, tears still fell down your beautiful face and he wished he could erase all your doubts. "Hey, baby" his voice still held the same soft tone, your hands gently grasped at his wrists "I-..I'm scared" you spoke, your voice was so small and fragile, Deacon's heart could've shattered right there but he held strong "Scared of what, honey?" He asked, softly wiping your tears away.

"Losing you.." Deacon sighed softly, tears threatening to fall "Who said anything about losing me?" You swallowed down the pained lump in your throat "You have Sarah back again..I don't see why you would need me" your voice held steady this time, Deacon shook his head. "(Y/n), I made a promise to you back at Lost Lake, do you remember that?" Your eyes slowly closed as you recalled the day in the grove, where Deacon confessed to you "I promised you that I was yours always from that moment on, and you know that I don't break promises" you opened your eyes, his gaze catching yours. "Sweetheart, I'm yours, not even Sarah can take that away from you" his hands grasped yours, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on the back of your hands and over your knuckles "I'm sorry.." You said, your voice barely above a whisper, he sighed breathlessly "It's okay, baby" his whispered, laying two firm kisses to the back of your hand.

"They took all my rings but this will have to do for now" your brows furrowed, clearly confused at what he was doing, you watched as he pulled a string of red thread out of his pocket, he sat down in front of you, nimble fingers going to work on the thread, you wondered what he was doing. He was tying the string around on itself, creating a small braid, he chuckled softly, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling your hand to him "A temporary fix until the real thing" he muttered, tying the braided thread around your ring finger, your heart seemed to skip several beats at what you realized was happening.

"(Y/n), you are the light of my life, you have kept me going when all seemed..when all seemed hopeless, you were there for me through everything after Farewell" you eyed the fabric band that was tied around your finger "Honey, you are my reason for everything.." You could feel more tears welling in your eyes "Will you..will you marry me?" The question left Deacon's lips under his breath, but you heard him perfectly.

"If it means being yours for the rest of our days, how could I say no?" Deacon smiled widely at that, pulling you up to him, his arms wrapping around you in a firm embrace, he sighed breathlessly into the crook of your neck. You could feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin, his hold tightened around you for a second "Hearing you finally say that, its just-..it just-" Deacon stuttered, you smiled softly "I love you, Deacon St. John".

[80pairsofcrocs]

Jedis and Tin cans - 6

series masterlist

CHAPTER 6

warnings : fighting? little bit of angst. language

                                   ͙۪۪♡𐡘 𐡘♡𐡘 𐡘 ֎ 𐡘 𐡘♡𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙

y/n pov 

Right now, Mando is probably more pissed than I thought he could be. 

“no way we're gonna get this to work without a full maintenance facility.'' Mando says, knocking a tightly closed fist against some of the remains of his ship. “This is gonna take days to fix.” he then says.

I look over to kuill, who's sorting through a bucket of tools. “If you two care to help, it might go faster. There is much work to do.” 

“Yea tin can, it might go faster.” i say, before chucking a wrench at his head. Thankfully he dodges it, so I don't have to get another lecture. I can hear him sigh heavily before picking up the wrench, and pointing it at me. “Still on thin ice. Stop throwing things at me.” 

“Fine- jeez.” I say, throwing my hands into the air.

(sorry for all the time skips, i'm just bad at writing silent scenes.)

Anyways, we spent all fucking night and day rebuilding the razor crest, while the tiny green baby just had its fun sleeping. The ship itself looks better than ever, of course it's because I did most of the work. Mando would argue that I sat there and made fun of him but- I mean, I have experience.

“I can't thank you enough.'' Mando starts to kuill while I lean on a wall behind me. “Please allow me to give you a portion of the reward.” He insists.

“I cannot accept it. You are my guest and I am therefore in your service.” Kuill refuses the money, yet again.

Surprise surprise.

“I could use a crew member of your ability, and I can pay handsomely.” Mando tries to persuade him. I zone out, thinking about the bounty. Are we really going to turn in a baby for some cash? I mean, I’m beginning to have second thoughts, maybe I can save it.

Somehow

“Thank you for bringing peace to my valley.” Kuill starts as I zone back into the real world. “ And good luck with The Child. May it survive and bring you a handsome reward.” He turns to me and nods. To which I nod back stiffly. 

“I have spoken.”

And then we were off again, me waving bye to Kuill out the window, which of course he waves back. 

END OF EPISODE 2

y/n pov

So far it’s been a long ride. Especially with my thoughts running miles through my head. We can’t turn him in.

We can’t 

I can’t 

I won’t

“Hey mando.” I start. He turns to me, nodding as if to say, ‘go on’. “Do we really have to turn in the kid…?” I trail off, my question being met with nothing but silence.

Just a crackly sigh. “Yes.” He replies, before turning to gaze out of the front window, into the black void. “Think about it, he’s a literal baby, we can’t just give it to some strange man!” I exclaim at the end of my sentence.

My hands now gripping the armrests, my metal fingers of my left hand denting it slightly. Mando turns to me again. “Don’t give me attitude, it’s just a job.” He says monotonously. I scoff.

Just a job.

“I just have a bad feeling about this whole thing, that’s all.” I say, almost apologetically, yet sarcastically at the same time. I hear nothing. Again, surprising.

I can’t shake the feeling. Something is going to happen to the little guy, I just know it. 

Or maybe I’m wrong, I’m overthinking, I mean teenagers do that a lot right?! I mean, I’m probably just paranoid. Yea. That’s it….. paranoid.

I feel a shake on my arm, I look to my left and see mando poking it, before speaking in a monotone voice. “Did you hear me? We’re here.” He says, before basically dragging me out of his ship without letting me speak. 

I recognize where we are, which is now into the alleyway, where the mystery door is. I noticed that mando still had a somewhat strong grip on my left wrist, which made me tense when I realized that he was directly touching the metal.

We begin walking down the dark hallways to where the old geezer was, but I sense something strong. Danger? Am I in trouble? Is the kid? Is mando? I don’t know what the hell is going on. 

I hate this feeling. The last time it was like this I was sold into a fight club.

I’m broken out of my thoughts by Mando standing in front of me, now lightly hanging onto my shoulders with each of his gloved hands. “Y/n?” I hear the hesitation in his voice.

“What..?” I say, coming back from my mind. “You zoned out, and started breathing a bit heavier than usual.” He informed me, before reluctantly letting go of my shoulders. “I’m fine, just tired.” I responded.

“..alright. You’ll be ok. let's get our payment.” He says, almost hesitating, before opening the doors. Little did I know he was lying through his teeth.

Right as we enter, a trooper roughly leads the baby’s crib to the old man. “Easy with that.” Mando warns him, at the same time I’m glaring at the trooper, then darting my eyes to the baby, who’s looking at me, tilting its innocent little head. “You take it easy.” the trooper says.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Yes. Very healthy.” The client blabbers out, before I can even get the chance to beat up that idiotic storm trooper. “Yes. Your reputations were not unwarranted.” He finishes, looking me up and down. I inwardly cringe, and uncomfortably change my position.

My arm now fully covered, arms crossed, and slouching a bit, trying to focus.. “How many fobs did you give out?” Mando asks him. Fair question.

“This asset was of extreme importance to me. I had to ensure its delivery.” The client answers. I see the baby moving around the back, looking towards me and mando with its big eyes. I give a look of sympathy, eyebrows furrowed, and my lips pulled into a tight frown.

“But to the winner... Go the spoils.” The client says to mando. His ‘spoils’ being a shit ton of beskar. “Such a large bounty for such a small package.” He finishes. 

The baby cries out, right before it leaves the room completely, never once breaking its gaze from me or mando. I wonder what they want with him. I wonder if they know about its power.

“What are your plans for it?” Mando asks him before I can even take a breath. “How uncharacteristic of one's reputation.” The client pauses. “You have taken both commission and payment. Is it not the Code of the Guild that these events are now forgotten?”

More troopers flood the room. ”That Beskar is enough to make a handsome replacement for your armor.” The client, still talking. “Unfortunately, finding a Mandalorian in these trying times is more difficult than finding the steel.” He finishes, but not before the troopers, about eight, are tensed, as if ready to fight.

“What about my payment? He got his, so where’s mine?” I ask the gray haired man. He smiles at me, and I get tense again. My arms at my sides, my left hand hovering over my lightsaber. 

“You my dear will be having- how do I say this?- a different type of payment.” He says, still smiling slightly. “…what do you mean..?” I ask him, curiously cautious.

“You’ll have to ask the mandalorian about that.” He says smugly. I slowly turn to the mandalorian, who’s already looking at me. Somehow I sense sympathy behind the mask. “Mando. What’s he talking about..?” I ask, a slight waver in my voice.

He hesitates, before looking down slightly, if you blinked you wouldn’t have known. “You are part of the bounty.” He puts it out there. Like ripping off a bandaid. I freeze. “Are you-“ I begin calmly before whipping my hilt off my belt, ready to activate my saber. “-FUCKING kidding me?!” I exclaim at him. 

He doesn’t even move, coward. “I knew something was off. I fucking KNEW-“ I start to lose my temper before I’m tackled to the ground, face first onto the floor, my weapons being immediately taken off my and thrown away from my reach. My hands were pinned on my back, and my head shoved onto the concrete, cheek squished into it, I felt like my skull would break.

I was taken off guard, I didn’t even see it coming. “Get your hands off“ I’m cut off by the client, Mando stands staring, not saying a damn word. “I suggest you stay quiet, you wouldn’t want the baby to suffer? Would you?” He smiles at me. “Don’t you dare-“ I start, fear washing over my face, turning it pale.

“Silence.” He says, and the troopers lift up my struggling form, four of them, each taking a different part of my body, tightly, and dragging me towards where the baby was taken. the other four following with blasters ready. “ILL KILL EVERYONE ON THIS FUCKING PLANET” I yell towards the room the client and mando were in. “STARTING WITH YOU MANDALORIAN!”. That was the last thing he heard before I was thrown out of that room by four troopers, and the door shut.

then black

Mando pov 

“ILL KILL EVERYONE ON THIS FUCKING PLANET”. Y/n yelled out to me. “STARTING WITH YOU MANDALORIAN!” 

The door slammed shut, and I heard a bit of a struggle, a loud smack , and then silence.

I collected my reward and moved on, leaving the building without a single emotion. But this did have me wonder,

What were they going to do to the kids? Why do they need literal children?

It’s just a job. 

I remind myself, before making my way to the smelter.

But the lingering picture in my head, the baby, the kid, had me genuinely worried. And I have a strong feeling they weren’t ok. The way they had to force y/n into wherever they were taking her, the way she struggled, the way she swore to kill me. She was scared, and so was the baby. She showed an emotion she didn’t look fond of sharing. I didn’t like it. But it’s what I have to do, people die everyday for plenty of reasons, why should I care about two children.

I shouldn’t 

So I won’t.

                                      ͙۪۪♡𐡘 𐡘♡𐡘 𐡘 ֎ 𐡘 𐡘♡𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ 

A/N : thank you all again for liking and my 6 followers!! sorry, updates are slow, i try to write whenever i can. also i suck at fight scenes, so be prepared for that ig. thanks again!! <3

word count : 1730

series masterlist

[five-rivers]

Pennywort and Swallowtails

For @phantomphangphucker :)

Prompt:  Flynn, due to being Phantom’s aka the Ghost King’s family and part of the Zone’s society, receives a Prince title and is now getting crowned.

.

Flynn couldn’t put his finger on exactly why, but the Ghost Zone seemed different lately.  There was something in the atmosphere, almost.  It felt… lighter, maybe?  

He didn’t like it.  

After all these years in the Ghost Zone, he’d come to regard any change from the norm with suspicion.  The tendency had saved his life multiple times.  Usually, such changes were caused by a nearby and powerful ghost.  Or, on rare and terrifying occasions, a not so nearby and obscenely powerful ghost.

For example, that Pariah Dark guy he’d heard about from some of the ghosts he traded with.  Flynn sure was glad someone else had taken care of him.  Not that Flynn was much good in a fight against any ghost more powerful than that annoying one in overalls that showed up whenever Flynn so much as thought of making anything even vaguely box-shaped.

Which wasn’t that often.  Flynn had never really nailed the whole carpentry thing. Ha.  He’d never been super great at the whole square thing either. Because he wasn’t one.  Skipped school and everything.  The whole high school experience.  Ha.  

Sometimes he really cracked himself up, but only in the most depressing of ways.  

He sighed, heavily.  Maybe he should think about spending more time in his hideaway cave, under his cottage (aka his shack, it was a shack, who was he kidding).  Stock up on supplies.  Get ready to weather a storm.  Literal or metaphorical.  

But hiding out in the cave was so boring.  There wasn’t anything to do down there. Except try to design better grass shoes and to patch his increasingly ragged clothing with limited amounts of thread. He preferred being outside greatly. Even if it was just on his little floating island, messing around in his little garden, growing potatoes and blood blossoms, digging for those crystals ghosts seemed to fear and desire in equal measure.

Flynn was peripherally aware that he was supplying the ghosts he traded with the equivalent of ghost uranium (one of the few human-world things he’d picked up was a middle school science textbook), but…

Yeah.  Guy had to eat, and the Ghost Zone didn’t exactly have cops running all over the place, or the United Nations, or… yeah.  Honestly, the Ghost Zone didn’t have much of anything, at least not in these parts.  It was pretty empty around here.  

Just like Flynn’s heart.  

Ha.  

Yeah.  That was a good one.  

Eh.  Life wasn’t so bad.  He was sort-of-kind-of friends with half a dozen undead monsters of questionable morality, had his own house, most of his teeth, and copious free time.  Plus, it had been a while since the ‘rocks from nowhere’ decided to trash his roof.  Which was bad for the sport he had invented (Chucking Rocks into the Misty Void), but good for roof integrity.  And not having a concussion.  Or losing any more teeth.  

But, back to his original topic.  

Flynn glared absently at the Zone at large. Okay, yeah, something was going on. Was it Flynn’s problem? Maybe.  Was it directly Flynn’s problem?  No.  The day was otherwise clear and ‘normal’ (the term being used loosely in the Ghost Zone), so he might as well go about his day—

The sky tore open in front of him.  

Flynn recognized that.  Before he knew what he was doing, he threw himself away from the portal. The last time he’d stepped through one of those—

The thought crossed his mind that this portal might lead back to Earth, back home, back to Mom.  But he knew from his ghostly friends how unlikely it was that the portal would put him anywhere near his home physically, not to mention temporally. It might not even lead back to Earth for that matter.  

He took cover behind a boulder, cursing his blasé dismissal of potential danger.  Who knew what could come out of a portal?  At least according to the ghosts he talked to.  Hopefully, nothing came out that he couldn’t beat into submission with his ectoranium staff.  

This was going to suck so much.  

The portal disgorged three floating eyeball ghosts in voluminous robes.

(One of the other books Flynn had gotten his hands on was a dictionary.  Which he had read.  Twice. Living on a tiny floating island was boring when it wasn’t terrifying.)

Ah, heck.  He could take one ghost.  Three? Yeah.  Not a chance.  

Maybe they’d leave?  They couldn’t know for sure he was here.  With how unpredictable portals were, and all.

“Flynn Walker,” intoned the central eyeball ghost with a great deal of gravitas.  

Flynn’s body did something between a cringe and a blanch.  

He was never trusting Globithar the Lapidarist’s tall tales ever again.  He wasn’t going to give him any more discounts for them, either.  No way to control a portal his scarred left butt cheek.  

“Flynn Walker,” repeated the eyeball ghost, now with a touch of annoyance.  

“In accordance with the laws of the Infinite Realms,” said the leftmost ghost, in a higher-pitched voice, “we call you to take up your position in the Court of the King of All Ghosts as a member of his family.”

Ah, that ectocontamination Aunt Maddie had sometimes talked about had finally caught up with him, and he was hallucinating something fierce. Either that, or these ghosts thought unbelievable jokes were good bait.  They weren’t.  Flynn would know.  He’d made many unbelievable jokes.  They’d never attracted anything but groans.  

Ha.  

“This is ridiculous,” hissed the third ghost.  “He isn’t even a real ghost.”

“He’s more ghostly than Phantom’s sister,” said the second.  

“We don’t have any choice about her, though.  Can’t we simply… not tell Phantom about this Flynn? Especially if this cousin of his is so craven as to hide at a moment like this.”

Rude, but accurate.  

“He’ll find out,” said the first eyeball, tiredly. “He always finds out.  Damn Clockwork.”

This was officially too weird for Flynn.  Why were they cursing out clocks?

“Because they’re petty and don’t have anything better to do.”

Flynn may or may not have shrieked like a little girl at the voice behind him.  The uncertainty was mostly because Flynn hadn’t seen or heard a little girl since he was in the vicinity of his cousin, Jazz, which was years ago.  At least a decade.  

But he did scream.  Loudly.  Which he really should know better than to do, living in the Ghost Zone and all.  He brought his staff up defensively, too, though, so his self-preservation skills hadn’t completely shorted out.

“Clockwork!” chorused the eyeball ghosts.  

“Yes, yes,” said the ghost who’d snuck up on Flynn, flicking imaginary dust off his robe as he smoothly, and dizzyingly, shifted between ages.  “I’m sure you’re all very shocked that I’m here, after you just finished complaining about how much I know.”  He examined his fingernails.  “Now, Mr. Walker—”

“Walker?” shrieked one of the eyeballs.  

“Yes, he is related to our illustrious sheriff. As I was saying, I am here to bring you to your cousins, who have risen quite a bit in this world.”

“What.”

“It is, indeed, rather surprising,” said Clockwork. “To those who cannot see the twists and turns of fate.  Or those who are willfully blind to those twists and turns.”  He eyed the eyeballs.  

“What,” repeated Flynn, more forcefully.  

“Clockwork,” growled the lead eyeball.  

“Allow me to explain,” said Clockwork.  “Do you recall your youngest cousin, Daniel?”

“Uh,” said Flynn.  He adjusted his grip on his staff.  “Vaguely?”

“He was crowned King of All Ghosts a few weeks ago. As a member of his family and an active participant in ghost society, you are automatically a member of the court. Assuming you wish to be, of course.”

“You- You’re saying I have family here.”

“Indeed.”

“Like, Aunt Maddie?”

Something odd passed over Clockwork’s face.  “No.  Your cousins. Daniel, specifically.”

“Wait, wait, he was a baby.  Wouldn’t he only be, like, ten or something?”

“Fifteen,” corrected Clockwork.  

“How did he die?”

“You will have to ask him that,” said Clockwork.  He raised an eyebrow.  “If you would like, you can sleep on this and I will return tomorrow.”

Flynn bit his lip.  Hard.  Okay. He wasn’t dreaming.  And- And this ghost didn’t seem to be lying. What would the point of that even be, anyway?  Flynn was nothing.  He didn’t have anything they could possibly gain by lying like this.  

“I’ll go with you,” said Flynn.  

“Excellent,” said Clockwork, clapping his hands.  “Then let us away to the castle.”

.

Well.  That was certainly a castle.  Or a palace? Flynn wasn’t sure of the difference. The ghosts hadn’t lied about that, at least.  

It was a big step up from Flynn’s house.  Which, honestly, more deserved the title of hovel. Or perhaps shack.  

Or even hole, when compared to all this.  Dear god, this place was fancy.  

Flynn hunched his shoulders, feeling out of place even as Clockwork led him deeper into the massive edifice.  

Come on, Flynn, he thought furiously at himself. Some of these people aren’t even wearing skin.  You are not underdressed.  

Clockwork brought him to a normally sized (which was, incidentally, not a given in this place, which contained both huge and tiny doors) door with understated but elegant carvings.  “Here are your rooms,” said the ghost.  “You will find a selection of clothing in your size in the wardrobe, and the bathroom is fully stocked and human safe.”

“Human safe?”

“Human safe.”

That was ominous.  

“There is a bell in the room that will summon a servant should you need one.  I will collect you for dinner in three hours.  Long enough for you to relax, I should hope.”

Or long enough for him to worry himself into pieces and chew on their curtains.  

… There would be curtains, right?  This place had to be fancy enough to rate curtains.  

He opened the door.  

Lots of curtains.  Lovely.

No, really.  It had been so, so long since he’d seen curtains.  He might be crying.  

Oh, gosh, that bed looked so nice and soft.  He wanted to—

Wait, no, he was filthy.  Filthy.  Covered in years’ worth of grime.  He hadn’t had a proper bath since he’d still been living with his mom.  

Pathetic, right?

There was a human-safe bathroom in here somewhere. Beyond the snark, he was looking forward to having a human-safe bath.  He was craving a human-safe bath.  With clean water and soap.  

Could the bathroom also have toothbrushes?  Toothpaste?  Unrestrained luxury.  

The bathroom door was in the same style as the outer door, but the handle was different, lighter.  The inside was tiled and surprisingly modern.  

There was a sink.  

He played with the sink faucet for several long minutes before remembering that he’d come in to take a bath.  

He spent several minutes playing with the bathtub faucet.  

Then he got into the bathtub and experienced a half hour of combined panic (he didn’t really know how baths worked anymore, and the sensations were weird) and nirvana (the sensations were also good).

He had to keep cycling the water.  Because he made it so, so dirty.  He sank into the water, up to his chin.  

When he got out of the water, he decided his hair was a lost cause.  Because it was always a lost cause.  Only, it was even more of a lost cause now, because it was also wet and had been stripped of its usual protective layer of oils.  

There was a variety of toothbrushes and toothpastes available.  He tested them out and discovered that he would probably need the services of a dentist. A good one.  Were there ghost dentists?  There had to be ghost dentists.  They had a lot of teeth.  A lot of teeth.  Sharp, scary, teeth.  

Ugh.  His baby cousin was a ghost.  He’d probably have teeth like a shark.  When he’d last seen him, he’d hardly even had any teeth at all.  Because.  Baby. Little, tiny, baby.  

Who Flynn barely knew.  

Why did he even want Flynn?  Or was it just some weird ghost tradition thing?  

Ghosts were weird.  Anything could be possible.  

He flopped face-first onto the bed.  His bed?  His temporary and maybe permanent bed.  If he was allowed to stay here.  

Oh, gosh.  Clockwork and the eyeballs seemed to know how to make portals.  Could they make a portal back to the human world? To Earth?  

To Flynn’s proper time?

To Mom?  

He missed Mom so much, even after all this time.  

(Dad?  Not so much. He hardly remembered the man.)

He wouldn’t know until he asked, he supposed.  But asking maybe-royalty would be scary. Talking to all these powerful ghosts was scary enough by itself.  

Ehhhh, he thought he’d gotten rid of his more cowardly side by now.  He was living in the scariest place out of the world.  

Ha.  

Yeah.  

He crawled out of the bed, dragging his nice, clean self to the wardrobe.  Oh, boy. Many clothes.  He hadn’t even seen so many clothes since the last time he’d been in department store.  Incredible.  

They were so fancy, too.  He didn’t know how to choose.  

He didn’t even know how to wear half of these things. At least half of them.  

He began to tease lengths of fabric from the wardrobe and lay them on his bed.  Some of them looked cool.  And also the kind of thing that he’d destroy just by touching it.  

Except he had already touched them, and they hadn’t been destroyed yet.  Yet.

Oh, cool, there was underwear.  Wow.  It had been a while.  

.

Okay.  The bed was incredibly nice, but somehow too nice.  Like, no nap nice.  

He wanted to take a nap.  

But no nap was occurring.  

The bed was too soft.  Ugh.  This was like the thing in that one war novel he’d read when he was probably way too young to read it.  

He groaned.  He hadn’t thought that was real.  He’d thought it was an exaggeration, or just drama.  Or something.  

He crawled off onto the floor and the wonderfully plush carpet.  

Maybe he could sleep here.  

.

He woke up to a faint knocking sound and rolled sideways under cover.  What cover? Oh.  Bed.  That was the bed.  He was in the room.  In the castle.  The ghost king’s castle.  

His baby cousin’s castle.  

He was going to cry.  This was so weird.  

Embarrassed, he rolled back out from under the bed and threw on the first clothes that came to hand.  Which.  Might not have been the best of ideas.  But, hey, he was dressed now.  

He stumbled over to the door and spent several long, embarrassing seconds sleepily remembering how to open doors with this type of handle.  Eventually, though, he managed it.

Clockwork was standing there.  One of his eyebrows went up.  “Interesting choice.”

Flynn looked down.  Orange and green went fine together.  What was he talking about?  

Forget it, he wasn’t about to develop a sense of social shame after living in a hut for a decade or so.  

“Come, now.  Your cousins are expecting you.”

Flynn briefly considered ducking out, phasing through the floor and out of the castle using a tangibility trick he’d picked up a couple of years back.  At least, that would spare him from this ‘diner’ he was rapidly approaching.  

He decided not to do that.  Running away wasn’t his style.  

(Who was he kidding?  That was definitely his style.  He would have run away so, so much if he had anywhere to run to.)

(It wasn’t like he could exactly fight ghosts on even footing.  Each and every one of them had Martian Manhunter’s powerset.)

“Don’t be afraid, Flynn,” said Clockwork, looking back over his shoulder.  

“Do you, like, read minds?”

Clockwork chuckled.  “Only the future.”  He swung the large, gilded door open.  

Inside, there was a long table, set with silvery plates.  There were a small group of children beyond it.  One of them waved at him.  Was that Danny?

Flynn took a deep breath and walked forward, back to his family.  

[starshipsofstarlord]

God is With You, Even as You’re Sinning

Pairing | Sam Winchester x reader

Summary | it was your first time not killing a monster, and in its place, taking the life of one of your own. Guilt entraps you, and it is up to Sam to break you out of your pitiful hypnosis.

Warnings | mentions of death, blood, angst, guilt, some smut, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative unprotected sex, fingering, swearing, mentions of murder

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Fuck God. This was all his fault, everything was to be fair. He had left the world to continue on its own accord, the apocalypse threatening to spill over the planet and destroy it and all beauty that was lingering through the existence of humans.

They killed each other, and the creator of all could care less. It was his smallest problem, he didn’t mind that the murderer was succumbed to guilt, or how many restless nights that he or she endured. God was cruel, even if he held up a facade of being your ally, and trying his hardest as he supposed, to be your friend.

Your hands shook as you remembered the entailment of your mistake. It was a slip up, a vast and surreal experience that people usually learned from. But what were you supposed to do, not kill a human again? Yeah you had gotten that, after all, the initial deed had not at all been intentional.

There was the victim’s blood dried upon the outer layer of your skin, casting you in the perfect image of murderous intent. However, you had no thirst to kill, instead, your hunting of monsters, alike to many others partaking in a similar lifestyle, executed the mythical beasts to protect the human population.

It pained you truly, to know that you had killed a person. You hadn’t even spared the familiar body a second glance, and out of panic, you fled the scene, leaving the body of the city cleaner in the gutter, laying in the remnants of his friends’ and family’s waste, burying him in their crude excrement.

The thought alone, and the sight that was engrained in the peripheral of your mind had you feeling sick. Slowly, you plodded down the steps of the bunker’s entrance, surely leaving footprints trademarked in all kinds of grotesque evidence.

Without much care for what lay heavily inside, you dropped your duffel from your shoulder, allowing it to fall on the ground with a disgruntled clatter. Nothing meant anything anymore, not if you were indeed a real killer. Whilst some monsters had weaselled their way into society, ending their pathetic attempts at normality was different than taking away the life of an innocent and mortal bystander.

Often, with the darker and crueler species, there were reasons as to why they pretended to be of human birth. Mostly, it was so that they could feed from the naive flock, or kill for their own amusement. Either way, none of their reasons were good.

But now, you thought of yourself as no different than them. A creature that needed to be put down for their crimes. Filing, you breathed in, only inhaling the various moulds of putridity that was weaved into your hair, and stuck to your skin like a face mask.

“Should I call you Cassie now?” At the joke, a laugh from the speaker was triggered. He was quite amused with the sight of you, and thus, you sneered at the tall man, hating him a little bit more than usual.

“Your pop culture references aren’t appreciated Winchester, it’s more Dean’s street.” Shoving past him, his high shoulder floundered back at the harsh and ignorant impact, an expression of offence covering his stupid face. Like a fawn, he tumbled after you, watching as you walked sullenly into the kitchen, yanking the door to the fridge open, and extracting one of his brother’s store bought beers.

“I’m going to guess the hunt went bad.” Sam speculated, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, and staring expectedly down at where you popped the cap off the bottle recklessly with your teeth. He almost winced at the sight, but he wished to keep this arrogant demeanour up with you, it was a natural desire to piss you off, and he’d be pissed at himself if he let it slip out of simple pity.

“Guess correct. Well done, you’ve won a trip to Hawaii.” You waved your free hand mockingly in the air, as the other raised the liquor to your mouth, allowing you to wilfully gulp the bitter liquid down. At his presence that remained nursing over you, you cocked a brow, leaning forwards as you expectedly looked back at the moose. “Just leave me alone Sam, I’m not in the mood for putting up with your bullshit.”

He, however, seemed not to be phased by you wanting to be left alone, and instead, quickly snatched the poison out of your hand, leaving you throughly prepared to keep him right in the balls. “What the fuck?” You all but screamed at the not so jolly giant. In turn, he crossed his arms across his chest, placing the bottle down on the island.

“I could ask you the same y/n.” His tone was dominantly serious, causing you to cower back into your shroud of guilty conscience. “Tell me what happened on that hunt, of which i told you that you shouldn’t have went on alone, since you wouldn’t have been able to handle it solo.”

You felt demeaned by his words, they sparked an anger out from the firm pit of your stomach. But you knew deep down, he was getting through to you, which was something that you had not managed to even do by yourself. Air heavily passed through and out of your nostrils, as acidic tears pooled in your eyes; a crack was falling down your walls, and out of all people, it was Sam Winchester whom had caused it.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone alone, but you know what, I thought of what a Winchester would do. And then I remembered, I am sure as hell not a Winchester and I don’t have a brother anymore! Not now, he didn’t even know who I was earlier, didn’t even recognise a single genetically identical hair on my head as he watched me parade through the town, the very one that I ran away from when he was a baby and I was seven, wanting to hunt a monster. Yet, i didn’t kill a damn monster Sam, I murdered my brother because you’ve been right all along, I’m not fit for this job. I am a mess, so congratulations, you finally have got me to admit the one thing that you keep reminding me of.”

“Y/n...” Sam wasn’t sure how to respond, he felt the waves of shock ripple through his body. Never so freely had you been vulnerable around him, and here you were now, with very visible tears cascading down your utterly torn face. He understood it was an accident, and the times that he and Dean had tried to kill each other under supernatural circumstances had him wondering what if.

Shaking your grime tethered head at the sound of his cracked voice, you stormed past him, and immediately raced towards the shower room, finding to your luck, which had been non existent during the rest of the day, the halls were barren of life. Walking through the door, you tore your ruined clothes off, chucking them upon the floor without much acknowledgement, before you went under the warm spray of the shower head, trying to calm yourself.

To rid your skin of its evidential accessories, you had to scrub your skin until it was immediately raw. Everything within you ached, as you flicked back to the memory of the clueless expression that had been worn by your blood brother. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t know who you were, or else, he’d have known that his own sister murdered him due to her incompetence to listen to others.

Now, you were not even sure what were your tears, and what droplets of water belonged to the shower itself. For over an hour, you basked int eh warmth that seemed unable to cure your cold blooded system, turning the spritz off, and covering your body in a fluffy towel, that you were sure belonged to someone else, but right now, you could care less about who owned what.

As you reached the door to your bedroom, you found it to be preached slightly open, and as you pushed it the rest of the way, you saw Sam sat on the corner of your bed. You held your arms around yourself, insecure on the fact that beneath the stolen towel, you were nothing more than you. A wolf in sheep’s skin.

“Can I help you?” You bitterly asked, your eyes still burning from your own faulted loss. Sam breathed in, his eyes trailing up to your face, that was naked from any gruesome cosmetics or make up. The bareness to your completion illustrated an aura of innocence, and evidence that you were the same as him - human.

“That’s my towel.” The male hunter laughed, in hopes of changing the previous and well wounded subjected to ensure that you felt better. But what was he kidding, nothing could fill the void that you had dug in your own heart, nothing was closer than the bond between siblings, even if you were considered as strangers.

“Take it back then.” Too exhausted from your gruelling day, you dropped the material, your confident action making his eyes go wide, as he tried to look away from your exposed skin to respect your boundaries. It was impossible though not to allow his hazel hues to slip up the trunks of your thighs, up to- no, that was wrong, very wrong.

You had just lost your brother, not to mention, by your own hand, and he was prone to checking out your freelancing body, taking in every curve and twisted scar that was prominent to his speculating eyes. His eyes dropped to the discarded towel, which he had purposely left on the heating rail for later use, and then, they switched back towards you.

He stood, walking behind you as you looked through comfort clothes within your dresser. A light touch of his hand brushed your hair away from your neck, as he breathed a sweet hoax of hot air upon your scare. Sam was relieved that you didn’t reject the contact, and instead, pressed his lips upon the flesh, finding succession whence you hummed deliriously to yourself.

This interaction had been inevitable for a long time, but now no longer were the suspected intentions for such an exchange to be to release well endorsed frustrations. No, he was going to clear your mind for some sensual moments, and make your pretty little head forget for a moment that you had pained yourself in the worst of ways.

Turning, you laced your hands through his chocolate locks, massaging his scalp as you pulled him closer so that your lips could endure a rougher clasp against his. There was no passion, behind each contribution there was a spur of hunger, he grasped your ass cheeks, pulling you up to be sat upon the top of your heavy dresser.

Obliging his command, you spread your legs so that he could stand between their partition, his hands now running up the windows of your thighs. For a while, the pair of you did nothing more than make out, and cup a feel here and there, but soon after, Sam dropped to his lanky knees, leaving kisses in the wake of his descent.

His thumb and forefinger spread your fluttering folds, watching as your slit squirmed for attention. Sam licked his lips at the sight, running his middle finger up the expanse, until he came to your yearning entrance. Slowly, after making sure you were wet enough, Sam slipped his digit inside, you wiggling your hips to adjust to the thrust of his one finger.

To add to the sensations that were overriding your body, he moved his mouth to closer proximity, smelling the divine aroma that pulsed out of you. It was far too addictive to not get a taste, and thus,he pulled his finger out, sucking off your juices contently.

But that small sample just wasn’t enough, which encouraged him to dive face first into your pussy - literally. His long tongue teased your folds, slurping at the lips, and then switching to your clit to heighten the stimulation. He kept up a rhythm, using it as a pattern to push you closer to that edge, and he was surely certain that you were enjoying his oral work as you ground your face against him, moaning at his succulent administrations.

“Sam.” Oh god, was it pleasant to hear his own name fall out your mouth in such an erotic manner. It was far different from the way that you usually used it to snide at him, though, the thought of your regular treatment of him aided only to spur his lustful actions on. He wanted you to cum, for your juices to run down his face in waterfalls, looking as though someone had tried to drown him.

His work would not be complete until you found it difficult to even pronounce his short name. Digging his tongue in the hood of your clit, tracing around the protective area, his fingers returned to their earlier placement, and he quickened their pace until he could hear a satisfying squelch in the air.

Rapid sounds of parted moans raked from your mouth, your chest sticking out as you breasts heaved with your heavy breathing. It was noticeable that you were close, not just from that, but you were squeezing the circulation out of his fingers. “Fuck.” Left you in the form of a squeal, as you pussy wept its juices.

Sam was quick to lap everything that left you up, once more, tasting those that clung to his fingers. He went back in for another taste, but you tightly grouped his hair, pulling him away from your sopping cunt. “Need you to fuck me Sam, now.”

In an instant, the hunter stood, working precariously on undoing the buckle of his belt, and pushing all material that covered his lower half to the bottom of his thighs. He read already hard, and oozing precum. You swept your finger across the tip of his dick, bringing it to your lips to taste his foreshadowing seed.

Sam huffed at the sight,picking his prick up in one hand, and jerking himself a couple of times. And then, he aligned himself with you, rubbing his cock around your wet crevice a couple of times, slapping his tip teasingly against your puffy clit.

“Want my cock baby?” He asked, smirking as he watched you nod your head repeatedly. With that being all the confirmation that he needed, he pushed into you,feeling even more turned on as he heard you mewl, and watched the ecstatic expression cross your face as his dick fit inside of you all the way.

He grasped your hips, pulling out once before pushing in again. He repeated the action, his own eyes rolling to the back of his head at how tight you were. This would make you forget the cruel method of god, his story was not as epic as he though, for his characters were screwing against his will, basking in a distraction rather than the regretful pain that seethed in your trodden heart.

Another thrust had your nails clasping onto Sam’s covered back, biting onto his shoulder through the plaid, as you held back the tears that were trying to creep out of your blissful eyes. A few grunts left Sam, as his pace increased, and with every thrust, which only served to fuel him further, the dresser smashed into the wall behind it, most likely leaving a decent dent within the historical architecture.

“Gonna cum.” You told him, dragging him in for another tongue filled kiss as your cunt pooled around him, coating his cock in the honey from your delicious pot. He soon followed after, and for a moment, he remained against you, allowing you to bask in the comfort of his strange presence.

And then he pulled out, watching as his distraction dripped from your entrance, trailing down your thigh in a white streak. An orgasm smile was pulled onto your face, but it was certain to not last long for when you returned to the reality that laid waiting for you to return.

Sam stepped closer again, moving his fingers towards your cunt, and pushed his seed back inside of you, watching as your puffy pussy lips swallows any part of him that it could get. He would distract you for as long as he could, and then, deal with the inevitable.

[incorrectdmp]

DMP SEASON 4 EPISODE 9 OUT OF CONTEXT SPOILERS

okay so like. i’m GENUINELY sorry that i haven’t been updating this blog a lot outside of ooc spoilers. genuinely my sense of time rn is so messed up that i think i’m updating it semi-frequently then realize i only did one round of quotes before a new episode drops lol. didn’t even do anything for last episode my sense of time is just utterly fucked. so sorry hahaha i can’t promise i’ll try to remember things but. i still love this blog i’m just drifting outside of space and time atm

spoilers ahead as normal but honestly this episode was so chill and vibin you could PROBABLY read this update without watching and wouldn’t be majorly spoiled for much. ngl this is one of my fav ooc spoilers because not much super intense happened so i was able to capture most of the shenanigans through memes

-charlie, probably (made by pip for space game. Saved it in advance knowing it was spoilers for this episode lol)

I’m pretty sure tasting the colour pink is just peptol bismol

Charlie has reached a new low 2 episodes after the pizza image, somehow

“Despite all my rage i am still just a rat in a cage” -thorin

Alex’s nickname on the fanserver sure is real awkward now

Charlie is a weeb. next up, the sky is blue

I mean. If YOU gained god powers don’t tell me you WOULDN’T watch every anime in existence

The biggest tonal dissonance between the art and the music i’ve ever seen

-art by cam

Cant believe zephi is cg’s friend from work

NO TEARS. ONLY YOGA

My therapist: calm voice CG isn’t real he can’t hurt you. Calm voice CG:

Even the void is not immune to capitalism

COMPETITIVE YOGA

GAY PANIC TIME, THE FRIEND FROM WORK HAS ARRIVED

Vinny is phoenix wright 

Junior is denied playing with dogs by virtue of not being in the show. Shame.

Thorin being left alone with zephi, this could only end well. Just look how minerva ended up!

Vinny straight up admits he’s willing to kill a dog

“Ezra, yay or nay about val’s area” 

Miss Charlie steal yo girl

“I fucked your girl shitlips” -charlie, probably

Maybe ONE day the space jam scenario will see the light of day

Welcome to FUCK IT

The local mall cryptid returns at last

Two legends make a triumphant return: junior no last name and the gazebo

Junior nolastname can legally swear

Chuck. 

How dare you make me sad over one piece jokes

Just Starbucks

After months of CG and grace being the best goddamn dynamic in the show despite it being ENTIRELY noncanon they GET TO FUCKING INTERACT IN THE SHOW

Alex’s hyena laugh my beloved

Paul blart flesh mall

Do not investigate the meat

Yugo wasn’t dead, he was just put in gay baby jail for a nap

-cam

ALEX BE DROPPIN HOT BARS THO

Tommathan 

Hailey gets struck by the apollo ball

Yknow. A proposal. As a friend. She put a ring on it. As a friend. 

Tommy and angalena h*ld h*nds

Sometimes ur just so depressed you dont realize ur girlfriend proposed to you in a romantic way

Perhaps, just once, the girls will not be fighting

TACTICAL STEALTH EZRA

“It’s like i’m a WEBSERIES CHARACTER” -hailey looks directly at the camera

DAD TIME

Dads havin a good dad talk. I’m just vibin to this music

“The surrealism of it made me nearly scream”

Daily reminder that percy blackwood punched a kid at sunday school

Things gettin spicy in this mattress store ;)

Val averts thine eyes, at the disappointment of the fans

TOES TIME

Kingdom hearts called, it wants its belts back

Dmp would be instantly solved if junior hadnt been demoted to mall cryptid. Bitch been on screen for like 5 minutes and he’s goin full cinemasins on CG’s ass

Jesus canon to dmp

Junior decided to test god, he fucks around and finds out

CG throwing a temper tantrum and ripping apart his dolls like an angy 5 year old

(bitch), CG edition

THAT’S IT YOU’RE GOING TO SPENCERS

Eternal gazebo time

HOLY SHIT???? People go to malls to SHOP???

oh wow! [eldritch screeching] my favourite pokemon!!!

HAIR SWOOSH GANG

Oh noooooooo my two favs are talking whatever will i dooooooooooo

Yall are really just gonna shove doc’s corpse into a pretzel box huh

Charlie just progresses more and more into being comically small and sad

Rip the mall announcer, lost to the parking lot. We barely knew you

Charlie is a basic bitch, we been knew

Yeahhhh no cg sure as hell aint human. No human being would reasonably wear THAT

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Mandatory High School AU That No One (Except Daniela Dimitrescu) Asked For (Part 1)

Summary: Donna has a crush on the beautiful, strong, and tall Chris Redfield but she is just your average (somewhat clumsy) teenage girl. How can she possibly be any match for the gorgeous Miranda? Luckily she has friends like Alcina, Karl, and Salvatore to help her achieve her dreams!

“You’re too old for these.” Miranda chuckles.

Donna grits her teeth and reaches for Angie.

“Aww, give it back, Miranda. You know that she has no other friends!” Claire chuckles.

Her lower lip quivers. Why did Miranda have to take Angie? Any of her other dolls would have been tolerable but not Angie. She reaches out again and mumbles, “give her back.” It is about as useless as telling Karl to put out his joint and actually attend classes for once. She knows that he would rather smoke his days away listening to Metallica and Mötley Crüe in the boys bathroom.

She remembers him mentioning, ‘Smoking in the Boys Room’. She very vividly recalls a night when they had sat upon the soccer field. It was a summer afternoon, the summer before her freshman year. She remembers Alcina smiling as she tossed a frisbee to Moreau. He hadn’t been paying attention though so it hit him in the face. Back in those days, it didn’t matter though, nobody laughed at you for falling over or being clumsy--a problem Donna has frequently; she is very clumsy and, of course, very average looking. Just an ordinary girl. She remembers that on that very warm and unforgettable--really it was as plain as she--summer afternoon that Karl had looked off into the sunset, “it’s like this song was made for Smoking in the Boys Room.”  A warm breeze stirred his hair.

She had nodded in agreement and she too looked off into the sunset. Those were simpler times. Much simpler.

Perhaps if she weren’t so presently distressed she might have wondered why the sun was setting in the afternoon. But she is no scientist. She is just Donna, plain, boring Donna. With her unremarkable face. Maybe Chris would notice her if she looked more like Miranda with her flawless skin and her perfect tan and a perfect mane of blonde hair that fanned out like blonde hair shimmering under the sun.

“Hey, what do you think your brother will think of Angie?” Miranda quirks a brow. She gives her perfectly styled bangs a flick. She lazily tosses Angie to Claire without looking in her direction. Claire fumbles, just barely clutching onto Angie’s dress and Donna’s heart skips a beat.

Claire pinches Angie’s little hands between her pointers and thumbs. “I don’t know but I think it’s creepy. Chris isn’t into weirdo goth chicks.”

“I’m not…”

“You’re right, he so totally isn’t.”

Donna sighs, she hopes Chris doesn’t think that she is a weirdo, she has only been crushing on him since the third grade and that was when he was still shoving crayons up people’s noses with Ethan. She remembers when he was nice but then he got hot and joined the football team and everything changed. Suddenly he no longer wanted to eat glue with Moreau. Now everything is football, football, and sneaking into college parties so he could talk to Jill Valentine.

“College girls, ya know?” He says to his friends. “One time I dated a college girl, she said she was studying beer pong. That’s what I’m going to major in.”

Donna is a little more ambitious, she would like to double major in art design and theater and minor in geology.

“Seriously, give Angie back.” She whimpers.

Miranda throws her head back and laughs, “not a chance…~loooser~!”

Donna feels her heart breaking, she doesn’t know what she will do without Angie.

“This thing is ratty junk.” Claire declaires.

“Angie is not junk!” Donna gets to her feet. She thinks that this is the first time that she has ever spoken up for herself. But it doesn’t last, her spunk dies away as soon as Miranda takes a step forward.

“If she’s not junk then…” Mirinda quirks a brow and hovers Angie over the garbage can. “Why is she in the trash?”

Donna gulps. Just when she thinks that Angie is done for, the garbage can collides with Miranda. Donna catches Angie before she can meet the floor. The same cannot be said for Miranda who is well on her way to the very other end of the hallway.

“Alcina!” Donna perks up.

The woman stands boldly, with her hands on her hips, within the rays of sunlight streaming through the window. She extends her long arm and Donna takes her hand. Her skin glitters in the light of the sun. Donna’s eyes light up, Alcina is glittering all over. “You’re sparkling.” Donna comments. Of course it is only natural for a vampire to gleam.

Alcina rubs the back of her head, “yeah...art class.”

“Oh.”

“What do you mean oh?”

“I just thought...never mind.” She isn’t sure why she thought that vampires sparkled. “Thanks for saving Angie.”

Alcina nods. “Anytime.”

"How dare you!?" Claire asks.

Alcina pulls a basketball out of the void and chucks it at Claire. The girl yelps and scowls. "Just wait until I…"

Alcina retrieves the basketball and chucks it a second time. This time Claire scoffs and stomps away. Alcina picks up her basketball once more.

“Aren’t you worried that principal Nemesis is going to find out about this?” Donna shudders.

“I’m not worried about him. He likes me.”

Everyone likes Alcina, she is the school’s straight A student, basketball champion who also sings opera in the school choir and single handedly stacked every single chair after last year’s graduation assembly. Donna doesn’t know one thing that Alcina can’t do.

Donna hugs Angie to her chest, she doesn’t know why Alcina is bothering with such an average, run of the mill, super plain, and also a little clumsy person like her. “I don’t know why you’re bothering with such an average, run of the mill, super plain, and also a little clumsy person like me.” She says.

“You are adorable.” She pats Donna’s head. “Very small, very quiet. It is nice. Everyone else here is…” She glances around the hallway. One look reveals Karl shoving Moreau into his locker as he strums Baby Shark on his guitar, Ada Wong riding her skateboard straight into Leon who is drawing a penis on Ethan’s forehead as he tries to win his chess match, and Chris punching a boulder to block the entrance to the boy’s room.  

“I hate it here.” Alcina grumbles. “I should have went to that nice Catholic school that Mother Miranda picked out for me.”

In all of her years of attending Umbrella High, she still hasn’t been able to figure that one out. She is certain that Miranda, Alcina’s ultra strict and controlling mother and the school mean girl are the same person existing simultaneously, the same entity yet separate at the very same time.

It doesn’t matter; neither version of her is likeable. But at least Mean Girl Miranda doesn’t hold up ‘God hates Ethan Winters specifically’ signs and host Kool Aid testing parties every Sunday evening. It must be embarrassing for Alcina to know that her mother attends vaccination protests every Saturday--it dawns upon Donna that Alcina has probably contracted her ‘hereditary’ blood disease because Mother Mirada doesn’t allow her to get vaccinated.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what, Donna?”

“Your life. I would be devastated if my mom dedicated a whole day of the week to antagonize one specific person for no reason.”

“Oh, it isn’t just one person.” Alcina laughs. “She goes to Hobby Lobby every Tuesday to complain that the fabrics aren’t pre-assembled in her dress size.”  Having realized that it has no more use in this chapter, the basketball finally fades out of existence.

"That must be embarrassing."

Alcina shrugs. "What class were you heading to?"

"Lunch class."

"Wonderful. I for one can't wait for lunch, I heard that they're finally serving Jill Sandwich again. I'll walk you to the cafeteria."

Donna shakes her head, "Lunch class, not lunch. I forgot how to eat."

"Ah, okay." Alcina nods. "I will escort you to lunch class."

[absinthehoney]

absurdities in fiction

things are absurd. the world is upside down, backwards, right side up. you go to the grocery store and the shelves are on the floor, the people are on the ceiling and theyre walking sideways. i touch on the same concepts a lot when i write. i hold my arm bent like i did when i decided i wouldn’t scare him. i think too much, i stay too still. i’m a statue presenting myself as a person. i put on my mask every day, i don’t tell people anything real about myself. i do not tell enough to ever really know everything about me. i keep a running list of things that are acceptable to share. i don’t tell anyone my secrets. i am made up of secrets, i think. i think i’m a bottle full of sand that we chucked into the lake, and the sand is secrets and the secrets keep me tethered to the earth. without my pockets full of sand i’d float towards the sun, into the void. i’d go for a walk someday, and empty my pockets so i could walk on the ceiling with them. i’d be on the ceiling, right side up, upside down from the ground, and i’d be like a helium balloon. if the moon were reversed and the tides rushed inward, if the moon took off the roof i’d go to her. i would tell her my secrets and keep going. i’d tell the moon goodbye for the sun and i’d sing to him on the phone like i used to with you. and i’d go to the library, i think. i’d visit my parents every weeknight and i’d say nothing significant. i tell everyone who listens about how absurd it is, how strange i feel. i go outside in the day and i look at the moon, and i tell him he’s my best friend. i say to myself that i’ve lived enough, i say that this is not a capital N Note, but it could be. there could be something poetic in that. my cat walks around crying, and i tell her she’s mourning. i tell her shes my baby and she agrees. i tell everyone that we will meet again in some way. i recycle people like some folks recycle clothes, and i see them again a decade from now. i stare hard into the mirror and i see the future, and i tell that version of myself that it gets better. i laugh about how absurd it all is and the absurdity laughs at me. i say it will be normal someday, and i lie to myself. i know i do not tell the truth, but i believe it anyway. 

[jawritter]

Saving Grace

Summary:  Some things are worth fighting for, even when they think they’re not. You can either roll over and die, or you can pick yourself up off the ground and go get what you want. That’s the place Y/N now finds herself in.

Warnings: Angst, so much angst, heartbreak, breakup, language. 

Word Count: 1335

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompt: 15: The red tail lights was the last thing she saw.

A/N: This fic was written for @jay-and-dean 2k To Be Continued celebration! Congrats on your new milestone hun! Since this challenge is called the “to be continued” challenge. I thought it best to leave this one in a bit of an open ending **Inserts evil laugh here**. This fic is totally unbeta’d and all mistakes are my own! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you guys enjoy this one!

Want more? Check out my Masterlist! If that’s not enough join me on Patreon, and get exclusive fics and series first!!

**MASTERLIST**        **BECOME A PATREON**

The red tail lights was the last thing she saw. Still, Dean saw a much worse view. The view of her tear-streaked face cast with an almost eerie red glow as he pulled out of the mud slick driveway, and onto the main road. He watched the rearview mirror until he couldn’t see her anymore. 

His dad had always taught him never to show emotions. “Real men don’t cry,” he’d said. It took everything in Dean to hold the burning wave of tears back as he refocused his eyes on the road, leaving yet another piece of his heart behind. 

Sam watched his brother closely. He could see the strain in his neck and shoulders and he kept a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and a death glare on the road. Dean could feel Sam’s eyes on him, even though Sam dared not say anything to his older brother. 

That was the longest drive to the bunker he’d ever made in his life, and fighting the inevitable breakdown was getting harder and harder with each passing mile. All he could see was her. That hurt look on her face. Her heart, breaking into pieces. He’d done that. He’d caused her more pain. He didn’t want to cause her any more pain. That’s why he fucking told her they couldn’t keep doing this. That’s why he told her that it was over. 

“It’s for the best, she’s safe now,” he told himself over and over again, but it was getting harder and harder to convince himself of that right now. 

With each step he took into the grave-like silence that filled the bunker his chest felt heavier. He got as far as the map table before the first tear slipped down his face. He refused to acknowledge the weakness, and when Sam’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, he jerked away hard, murmuring something about getting some sleep. 

Sam wanted to help him, that’s all, but there was no fixing this. There was no putting Dean back together this time. He didn’t really let himself cry in earnest until he was safely locked in his room, with an open bottle of Tennessee's finest. 

This was it, his curse. Some cruel joke Chuck had slapped on him his whole life. Loneliness. He tried to drown it in alcohol, and when he was younger he tried to drown it in young women. It never filled the void the way Y/N did, it never will. 

Dean pulled out his phone and started looking through the photos of the two of them over the last six months, and damn if that didn’t rip yet another fresh whole in his chest.

Her smile was his everything. It was his reason for getting up in the morning, and the only reason he’d kept going this long, and not given up and taken the easy way out. She loved him, really loved him. She’d woken a part of him up that he never knew could exist inside the fucked up, broken shell of the former man he once was. 

Now… Well, now that man was dying, and fuck if that didn’t hurt worse than anything he’d ever lost in his life. 

Over two hours south of where Dean was now, Y/N sat in the driveway with the rain beating down on her already soaked clothes as if it could wash away the crippling heartbreak she felt right now. 

The mud she was kneeling in from where she hit her knees the moment those horrible red taillights were no longer in sight. She’d been there for almost two hours. She couldn’t cry anymore. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t even think clearly for nearly two hours. She just knelt there in misery. 

If he would have been man enough to just pull his gun and shoot her in the head it would have been more merciful than what he’d just done to her. It would have been quick, painless even. But no, he decided to leave her a half-dead shell of a human, kneeling in the pouring rain, unable to even pick herself up from where he’d left her standing. 

“It’s better this way sweetheart,” he’d said. “You’re safer without me. I'm poison baby, you don’t deserve to follow me down this road that’s only going to end up in more hurt and heartache. You don’t deserve that.”

Well, fuck if he wasn’t wrong. She would have taken death for him, and taken it gladly. Torture couldn’t put a dent in what she was feeling right now. She feared no monster, no demon, she could and had faced all those things, and came back stronger. This was different. This was inescapable. This was going to kill her. 

“No,” she finally said, grabbing the tale gate of her old Nissan V6 that she’d been kneeling by and using it to force herself to stand.

She knew Dean was hell-bent on “keeping her safe,” but dammit she’d been keeping herself safe for the last 15 years she’d been a hunter. So what gave him the right to make the decision that he wasn’t worth whatever pain was to come? 

Once she was inside the house, she quickly changed her clothes into something dry and dialed Sam’s number. She knew Sam almost as well as she knew Dean, and she knew he thought his brother deserved to be happy. He was happy with her. Sam had told her so, and Sam wouldn’t lie about that.

She’d just slammed the door to the old truck, and pressed the clutch to the floor, starting the engine with a roar as she tried to force the old truck in reverse quicker than what it really liked when Sam answered the phone. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asked as you pulled onto the blacktop, shifting gears as you gained speed, heading for the bunker as fast as the old truck could go.

“I’m fine, how’s Dean?” she asked, her chest tight with panic. She knew him, her Dean, and if she was in this bad of shape, then she could only imagine what he was going through. 

“Not good,” Sam answered simply. That was it, all she needed to hear. 

“I’m on my way Sam, he’s not going to get rid of me that easily.” 

Sam let out a huff of breath that you could tell was the first real one he’d taken all night long. 

“Thank God,” he breathed as she hung up the phone, that old truck roaring in the background as she sped their way as fast as it could carry her. 

He knew his brother was hurting more than he’d ever seen him hurt. He’d been sitting in the hall or almost an hour listening to him cry himself to sleep, something he’d rarely ever heard him do maybe only once, and that was when Mary had been taken away from him the second time. He needed Y/N, and she needed him. 

Thankfully she seemed stubborn enough to keep him from destroying the only good thing he’d ever had. So he pulled himself up from the floor and cracked the door open to see Dean on his stomach with an empty whiskey bottle in his hand, and his mouth slack with sleep. He slipped inside, and removed his boats, and put them down beside the bed, pulling the covers over him knowing Y/N would take care of the rest when she got here.

This life wasn’t easy, and Dean didn’t need to make it harder on himself when there was finally someone that was willing to fight for him the way he deserves, and Y/N was just that person. 

“Hang in there Dean. She’s almost home,” he said as he tucked the covers around his brother’s sleeping form and went to wait in the library for what he was convinced would be his big brother’s saving grace.

Forever Tags: @deanmonandnegansbitch @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @rain-dance-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural​   @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl​ @love-jackles @miraclesoflove​  @Waywardsistershay @emoryhemsworth​ @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​ @softsebastian​ @tatted-trina6​

[writing-in-april]

Bowling Ball Baby

Franklin x Female Pregnant Reader

(Franklin is MGG’s character from beginner’s luck)

Gif courtesy of the ever wonderful @imagining-in-the-margins

A/N: I have recently become obsessed with Franklin because of @httpnxtt and @sunlight-moonrise so I decided to write some fluff with a dash of angst for him. I also have smut upcoming for this character as well. Thanks to my beta readers @sunlight-moonrise and @definitelynotkatesblog y’all are amazing!

Warnings: Fluff with a dash of angst, marital dispute at the beginning (is later resolved, and a few swear words.

Masterlist Word count: 1.9k (this was supposed to be a blurb lol)

Fighting with Franklin always left me at rock bottom. We both had feisty personalities but still didn’t fight often, usually just scathing quips when we were irritated. On the rare occasions when we did explode into a fight it was full of screaming, crying, and hurtful comments. Our tempers had been close to boiling over for a while now, my pregnancy hormones were making me extremely irritable and Franklin’s feisty demeanor didn’t exactly mesh well with that.

My 8 month pregnant belly felt like I was lugging around a bowling ball constantly, my back felt like it was being broken everyday. I constantly felt like I was standing on pins and needles, plus the baby felt the need to show me just how strong she or he was by kicking me in the ribs.

The fight had started after Franklin came home from work, I was sitting on our couch with my feet propped up and covered in an ice pack to relieve some of the stinging pain. Unfortunately for my poor swollen feet the ice pack did little to dull the throbbing.

“Hey, Frankie?” I called, hoping I could convince him to swap out the thawing ice pack for a frozen bag of peas.

“Not now, I’m busy.” He answered shortly, his back facing away from me, not fully acknowledging my presence. He was usually extra irritable after work; he felt trapped in his job, like it was holding him back from his dream of bowling professionally..

I huffed loudly, not that he could hear it from the other room, doing god knows what. He returned in a rush with his bowling ball bag in his hand, headed for the door, his Big Z Tires shirt hastily thrown on. My mouth fell open when I realized he was leaving for the alley.

“You’re leaving?” I squeaked, watching him while he hastily shoved a bagel in his mouth.

“I’ve got to go to practice” he muffled around a mouthful, sounding annoyed. I always supported Franklin and his dreams of being the best bowler in Little Falls, but this time I wasn’t going to let him escape his responsibilities of our relationship so easily.

“Could you skip today?” Treading lightly by asking softly. “We haven’t spent any time with each other in like a month and even then it was at the alley.”

His face switched from being annoyed to enraged despite my asking nicely, he was still going to get pissed off- figures.

“How could you be so inconsiderate- you know how important this is to me and the whole town!” he yelled. I was spooked but quickly composed myself before replying.

“I’m not being inconsiderate, you're never here.” I stated in a deadly tone, I didn’t want to make this worse by joining in on his raised voice. “I understand it’s the most important thing in Little Falls, but shouldn’t our baby be more important to you?!”

All I got in response was a dismissive scoff. I could feel myself getting angrier, we’d both said we wanted a baby and for the past month he acted like he couldn’t care less.

“You might as well go move into the bowling alley.” I mumbled under my breath, fiery spite fueling my words.

“Even with the pins, it’d still be quieter than your nagging.” he shot back.

“Excuse me?!” Now it was my turn to shout; he just had to continue to stoke the fire increasing in my belly. I waddled my way to stand right in front of him, ignoring the pain of my swollen feet. I didn't want him to wiggle his way out, if he wanted an argument he was going to get one, he was the one who started it after all.

“All you’ve done is whined and complained these past few weeks.” He was acting like a hypocrite, whining and complaining to me about something we both agreed to do together. I had never felt more alone.

“How would you know? You’re never here to spend time with me!” The timbre of my voice cracked as my heart started to shatter.

“Just stop, ok? I get it you’re pregnant but come on Y/N it can’t take that much hard work!” That comment was the straw that broke the camel's back, my anger turned to melancholy as hot tears spilled over onto my cheeks as I waddled away as fast as I could back to our bedroom.

I could hear his desperate voice trying to get me to come back, offering any pleading or begging he could think of, but I wasn’t having it. As I got to our room I slammed the door shut, making sure to lock it tight so he couldn’t follow me. If he wanted to act like a dick, he'll sleep on the couch for the night. Knocks started to hit the door with his voice barely permeating through the wood imploring me to let him in.

Tears fell down my cheeks while I rubbed my belly, all I wanted was for us to be a happy family, but I needed Franklin to be fully committed. Sinking down onto our bed I contemplated where this left us. I almost packed a bag to stay with a friend for the night but I was too tired to go through with it, the fighting had taken all the energy out of me. The mattress cuddled my body but it wasn’t as good as Franklin, which only made the drops fall harder. My sadness deepened when the knocks stopped, the room now a void, offering no comfort to me. Dread sat in my belly as I drifted off into a restless sleep.

~~~

Physically and emotionally I was strung out, I was in no mood to talk or argue so I had been tiptoeing around Franklin all day, his behavior had made me seriously start to question if he was truly invested in our relationship. Once dinner rolled around I padded my way into the kitchen, the baby had been craving some sweets and I was highly considering just binging on candy.

I glanced over to the stove to find a ridiculous sight standing before me. Franklin had his bowling shirt on- he honestly rarely took it off and had about 5 of them. Covering most of the front of his yellow button up was a baby sling I had bought a few weeks ago in preparation, in it sat my old purple bowling ball I used when I was in Highschool. He must’ve dug it out of our closet as I hadn’t used it since our last competition senior year. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I reminisced about the old team where we’d first met. I gazed at the 8 pound perfectly round ball, weighing down and stretching the fabric directly in the middle, it looked exactly like what you’d think a bowling ball in a baby sling would look- ridiculous.

“I remember you saying you’ve been craving something sweet so I decided to make pancakes for dinner, I even added chocolate chips.” He spoke, breaking me out of my memory. I hadn’t even noticed he was making pancakes, my focus on the bowling ball strapped to his stomach.

“We’re not going to talk about the bowling ball?”

“Well I was being a dick-” I swiftly cut him off. My rage was being stoked slightly by his whimsical attitude, I couldn’t tell if he was trying to cheer me up or was really that thick and couldn’t understand my frustrations.

“Yeah, that’s the understatement of the century.” I’m sure the steely edge to my tone was not lost on Franklin, and I still wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of eye contact.

“Like I was saying- I was being a dick and I was thinking to myself, ‘Frankie she’s carrying the weight of the relationship right now. You want to get inside a woman’s head? You become a woman.’ So I thought I’d join you in solidarity- as an apology.”

Silence filled my part of the conversation as I pondered his words. It certainly was an odd way for someone to make up a fight, usually people bought flowers, chocolate, or go on a fancy date. Franklin, however, always had a way of apologizing in the most obnoxious and ridiculous ways that were incredibly sweet, but also made me want to bang my head against the wall. He had stopped flipping the pancakes, anxiously awaiting my reply to his apology. The slight char they were getting wafted a burnt smell through the air.

“This is the first thing you thought of for an apology?” I giggled out breaking the tense silence, his shoulders relaxed as he let out an audible puff of breath. I may have found this funny but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook just yet.

“Well- you know me, I’m not very good at apologies.” He said in a regretful tone, turning back to the pancakes finally removing the almost carbonized pancake from the skillet. A cringe made its way onto his face after catching sight of the rubbery burnt cake and swiftly chucked it in the trash. “I really am sorry Y/N.”

“You’re saying that now because your back hurts- Am I right?” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, still not fully accepting this apology.

“No, that’s not the main reason I’m apologizing, but yes, oh my god my back fucking hurts.” His right hand started to massage his sore back as his other poured in the last scrapes of pancakes, sprinkling it with an exorbitant amount of chocolate chips. My mouth was watering at the sight and delicious aroma.

“How long have you been wearing it?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the heavenly scent.

“Like 10 minutes, I totally understand why you waddle now” Flipping over the last pancake, he started to set the table, his waddles were even more awkward compared to mine because of his long limbs.

“Well now that you understand, you’d better be massaging my feet everyday to make up for it.” I sharply stated though I couldn’t help but slip in a few giggles in between. I had been carrying this baby close to 9 months and Franklin could barely handle 10 minutes without keeling over.

“Yes, of course. I promise.” He set the plates of pancakes down on our round table, then pulled out one of the chairs and helped me sit down. I noticed that he had even set up the silverware in its supposed proper place along with the napkins folded into little triangles, he did go all out to make it up to me.“You know, you're the actual god in this family.” He remarked as he slung off the baby sling, relieving the tension from his back. I wished I could do the same.

“I love you, you big weirdo.” I snorted in response. While his godliness was usually referring to his bowling skills, it was nice to have my literal creation and carrying of life inside of me acknowledged too.

“I love you too” He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing soft kisses to my neck and rubbing my belly, silently assuring me that everything would be alright.

[irrlicht-writes]

the path we choose to walk on pt.3

Part 3! still not the last part. But I’m getting close! Note to mention: there is death here. But it’s not permanent. Okay? It gets worse before it gets better. @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @cass-said-i-love-you @professorerudite @insertdeeplyrics anyone else want on the tag list?

PART ONE | PART TWO

Ao3

PART 3: a soul as gentle as a star

Dean is sobbing. He can’t stop. Cas has been sick for a whole week already and still, Jack has not shown up. Dean had to shoo Miracle out of the room because he’s afraid that she’s going to get sick too.

Dean doesn’t know what to do. There’s a fever running through Castiel and no matter what Dean does, it won’t go down. The few times that Cas is awake, he’s puking up his guts over the toilet – all black goo and Dean’s heart breaks. Cas is crying before he passes out again and Dean can’t help. Cas is losing weight and it’s hard to even get him to drink water. Jack doesn’t come.

He pets Castiel’s hair and whispers sweet nothings into his ear. Cas never responds and Dean cries in his damp hair. What’s he supposed to do? He can barely eat food himself. The only thing keeping him from breaking down completely is Miracle because she’ll remind him of feeding her and walking her and honestly, Dean is glad for the temporary distraction she provides.

“Cas,” he says and Cas whimpers.

“Cas, baby, please come back to me.”

His fever goes up.

 A month later, it’s not better. Dean only functions whenever Miracle forces him to. It’s been a while since Cas woke up to puke. Dean tries not to dwell on it. He spends his days laying in bed next to Cas, staring at a wall in silence. The only sound is Cas’ shallow breathing and Dean doesn’t know what to do.

He hasn’t really gotten Cas back and now he’s about to lose him again.

Why has Jack not shown up?

Doesn’t he care about them anymore?

He’s always said that he considered Cas to be his father, but does he just stop caring like that?

“Jack,” Dean whispers into the void, “please.”

Nobody answers him.

Castiel’s chest rattles.

 A week later, Sam shows up. Dean has been trying to pretend that everything was going fine, just to avoid Sam coming here. Maybe he shouldn’t have given his brother a key.

“Dean,” Sam says sternly and Dean can barely lift his head. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s eaten something. He hopes he didn’t neglect Miracle too much.

“He’s sick, Sammy,” he rasps and Sam’s expression softens. He walks over to the bed and feels Cas’ temperature.

“Dean,” he says, “we have to bring him to a hospital.”

Dean shakes his head. “He’s an angel.”

“He needs help.”

Sam doesn’t understand. Dean’s afraid that they will understand that Cas isn’t human and take him away. They’ll take him away and Dean will never get to see him again and they’re going to conduct experiments on him and Cas won’t understand and he’ll be in pain and Dean wouldn’t be able to save him because he can’t overthrow the government and Cas will think that Dean gave him to these people and he’ll resent Dean and wish him the worst and wish he’d never pull Dean out of hell –

“Dean, breathe.”

Dean sobs loudly and starts to cry. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Please, let me take care of you. Of both of you.”

Dean sobs and doesn’t argue. He can’t. He can’t do it anymore. If he loses Cas again, then – then...

Who knows what he’ll do.

*

“Your friend doesn’t have long.”

Dean barely understands the doctor. Castiel is filled up with that black goo stuff – his lungs, his stomach, everything. Jack still doesn’t show. Cas is dying, again, and Jack doesn’t care. It’s almost like there’s no change at all.

If Jack doesn’t even want to save his father, what good is he?

They give Cas an infusion. Sam asks if Dean can get one too but he refuses. He’s fine. He doesn’t need any help. He just wants to sit here, next to Cas and be with him until the very end. Just like last time. Dean reaches for Cas’ hand and holds it loosely in his own.

“I’m here,” he whispers, “I’m here.”

It’s empty. These words mean nothing. Dean hangs his head.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

 Two days later, Castiel dies.

 *

 Dean has pamphlets. They gave him pamphlets but he hasn’t looked at them. He sits on his bed and stares out of the window. Sam has Miracle. Dean told him to take her. Castiel is in the morgue.

Why did this happen?

Why didn’t Jack come?

Dean prayed to him every waking second.

Why did Jack ignore him? Hands off or not – this is his father.

Dean doesn’t understand.

It makes no sense.

Maybe this is a dream. A terrible, terrible nightmare and Dean just has to find a way to wake up.

He remembers the nightmare djinns. It must be like that, right? Everything is just a dream and he just has to wake up.

Die.

He has to die to wake up.

And when he does, Cas’ll be there and he’ll be worried and hug him and Dean’ll hug him back and everything will be okay again.

Cas won’t be dead, then.

Dean gets up from the bed.

He walks over to the window and opens it. He bends forward and looks down. It would be quite the fall. But it’s going to be worth it. Down there, Cas will be waiting for him. If he imagines hard enough, then he can almost see Cas standing down there with open arms.

Dean smiles.

He’s safe.

His angel will catch him.

His angel will always catch him.

Dean closes his eyes.

His hands are shaking.

“Cas,” he whispers.

No matter what, at the end Cas will be there.

“Dean,” someone says and stops him.

He turns around.

“Jack.”

 *

 Dean steps away from the window and he can only stare. Jack is here. Why is Jack here now, when it’s pointless?

“I’m sorry,” Jack starts and Dean swallows down his anger. He wants to yell, he wants to scream and he wants to grab this kid and shake him. But he doesn’t. At least the kid looks guilty.

“Why didn’t you come sooner?” His voice is hoarse and Dean’s glad he didn���t yell. His voice would’ve given out.

“I heard you, I did, I swear. But Dean, I can’t fix the Empty. So I tried, I looked how to help Cas. I care about him, Dean, he’s my father. But I didn’t want to come here without a solution. If I would’ve come and would’ve said I can’t do anything, you would’ve lost hope immediately. I’m – I’m sorry that I’m late. But we can fix this, Dean. Look.”

Jack is holding something in his hands. He opens them somewhat so that Dean can take a peek. It’s glowing and Dean doesn’t know what it is.

“It’s a soul,” Jack says, “well, at least as much as I can make.”

Dean frowns.

“It will help Cas to battle the goo inside of him. The Empty has no dominion over souls, you know?”

Dean shakes his head. “Jack, he’s dead.”

Jack clenches his jaw. “And that’s why we save him.”

Dean looks at Jack’s hands. A soul. He doesn’t know what that means for Cas but if Jack is so sure it’ll save him... why shouldn’t they try?

It’s not like Cas could get anymore dead.

So he nods.

“Let’s go, then.”

 *

 It’s surprisingly easy to break into the morgue. Apparently they don’t really guard their dead and well – your kid being God probably helps too. Dean gets an uneasy feeling in this place. Cas is in one of these, dead. His hands start shaking again. But he has to pull through. For Cas.

For Cas.

With shaky legs, Dean walks over to the one that says “Castiel Winchester” on it and opens it. He takes a deep breath and pulls the gurney out. He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to look. He doesn’t want to see Cas all pale; all dead. He doesn’t think he could take it.

“Dean,” Jack says and Dean’s eyes snap to him. He’s holding out his hands.

“It’s got to be you,” he says and on auto-pilot, Dean reaches out and takes this soul Jack is offering him. It feels warm in his hands. It feels a little bit like a baby bird.

“Cas,” he says and he feels as if the soul in his end flickers. “Come back to me.”

He holds his hands over Castiel’s chest, looking at Jack who nods. Dean nods back and presses the soul inside.

 First, nothing happens and Dean wants to panic. He looks at Jack who’s frowning.

No no no no no no no this isn’t good. It’s not working, it’s not working –

Castiel tears his eyes open and he’s gasping for air, heaving dryly. Dean chokes down a sob, but Castiel grabs his own chest as if he’s struggling to breathe and his blue eyes fly to Jack. The kid just shakes his head and takes Castiel’s hand in his own.

“Fight it, Cas. I know you can do this. You’re stronger than it. You’re the only angel in all of existence that ever walked out of the Empty of his own will. Out of his own might. The Empty has no power over you – it never had. Why do you think it hated you so much?

It was afraid of you, Cas, because it knew only you could ever walk away from a confrontation. You’re the angel that defied and defied and defied again. The Empty can’t hold you. It never could. You were awake, and you found your own way out. Do you even know how much power that takes? How much will? And you did it.

You did this, with no help, no assistance, and you survived. The Empty followed you outside and you overpowered it. It tried to drag you down, again and again, but you kept fighting and you kept winning. I can only ever hope to be as strong as you, Cas.

You are Free Will. You’ve always been. Without you – without you, Chuck would’ve determined the ending. But he didn’t. Because you made us believe that we can choose our own path. That we can choose who we want to be.

You’re stronger than the Empty, Cas. It cannot defeat you.

You loved me, you believed in me, you supported me when I didn’t deserve it. You explained the world to me; and you made me see that it’s worth loving. The way you’d talk about a roadside flower and what a miracle it is, I – I saw the little things. I saw the things that make the world what it is. It’s not about the big battles, the big wins or even the big losses – it’s about the things you never appreciate. The roadside flower, the leaves on the trees or the rustling of the wind.

And with – with everything you said, I realised – I realised that you thought... that you believed you were lesser than these things. That the dirt on the ground deserved better than you. You praised everything – Sam, Dean, me, the world – but never yourself. You are the guy I look up to most because – because you’re so kind, and caring and full of love. I heard – I heard the birds sing and thought they must be singing about you. I saw flowers bloom and I thought they must be doing this for you.

You are so good, and so kind and I – I will make a world that appreciates you. I will make a world in which you are loved, unconditionally.

I love you, Cas. I’m sorry it took me so long.

The Empty can’t take you away from me. I won’t let it. You crawled your way back here again and again, and I will make sure that you’re rewarded.

You taught me I can choose my own destiny. That I can choose my own path. And you told me that I will forever be loved, no matter what. And you did. No matter what I did, you loved me. You loved me unconditionally, and I never appreciated it. I took it for granted but then I realised – you were never loved like that. You were never – you were never told that you are loved. But I do.

I do, and Sam does, and Dean does and so many more. You, of all people, deserve the world. And I’ll give it to you.

I love you, Cas. I’ll say it now, and I’ll say it a hundred times. You are loved, Castiel, now and forever.

And whatever sins you believe you committed – sins that you believe that cannot be forgiven – I give you absolution.

You are forgiven, Castiel. You were always forgiven.

I love you. I love you so, so much.

I can be God, I am, but... I can’t do it without you. What if I stop looking at the small things? What if I end up like Chuck? I need you, Cas. I need you to remind me of a fallen leaf, of a newborn bird. I need you to remind me of the wonders of the world.

You were always fighting. And most times, the enemy was yourself and nobody of us helped you. You’re stronger than I could ever hope to be.

You’re my father, Cas. Sam and Dean are so, so important to me, but – I’d pick you, every time. Now and forever, I will always pick you.”

 Castiel squeezes Jack’s hand. “All I ever wanted,” he rasps, “is for you to be happy.”

 *

 “He’ll never fully recover,” Jack says after he got them all home. Dean holds Castiel tight to his chest. The angel is asleep but his breath isn’t rattling this time. He looks at Jack, unblinking.

“The soul,” Jack starts, “will help. But Dean, you have to understand that when Castiel made it out of the Empty, he took death with him. It’s not going to let him go. The – the sheer might it must’ve taken him to survive as long as he did, I...”

Jack stops and looks to the ground.

“I could never hope to be as strong as that. But now with the soul, his grace can draw strength from it. But it’s a weak soul. It’s... it’s just an imitation, but it’ll hold. He’ll get better; and in time, he’ll be walking around again.”

Jack turns and looks at them.

“He’s essentially human now, Dean. Not in the sense that he’ll die from old age, but in the terms that he needs to eat and sleep. He’ll probably get sick a lot, but he’ll be fine.”

“The black goo will never go away?”

Jack shakes his head.

“No. But with the soul, his grace is strong enough to keep it in check and keep all the internal organs working. I – I have to go now. But I’ll drop in whenever I can. Say hi to Sam for me and – tell Maria about me, too, okay? I’m excited to meet her someday soon.”

Jack smiles brightly and holds his hand up in a wave. “Bye, Dean,” he says and disappears.

Dean lets out a deep breath and gently places Castiel on the bed. Castiel is breathing quietly and really, Dean should call Sam and tell him but he’s just so tired.

When he crawls into bed next to Cas, he thinks about the people at the hospital. He forgot to ask Jack to remove their memories. It would work out, though, right? Cas is alive and he’s home and now he’s finally gonna get better.

Dean snuggles up next to Cas and vows to call Sam tomorrow. They’ll sort it out together. But right now, the only thing that matters is Castiel’s soft breathing and the knowledge that a soul shimmers inside him.

 *

 “I missed this,” Cas says when Dean opens his eyes. He’s been awake for a while at this point, but he had wanted to enjoy Castiel playing with his hair. It feels nice.

“You never played with my hair before,” Dean replies.

“No, but I missed watching you sleep. It’s very calming.”

Castiel’s voice sounds tired, but it doesn’t seem to pain him like it did before. Dean is glad. Now everything would work out. And even if Cas would be bedridden for the rest of Dean’s life, then that is okay too.

“You can watch me sleep forever then.”

Castiel laughs a bit but he ends in some light coughing.

“This goo,” Dean wonders, “will you really never be rid of it?”

Cas sighs. “No. I figure being in Heaven would help me. I might be able to get rid of it if I was able to tap into Heaven’s energy reserves, but I don’t want to go there now. The soul Jack made for me is going to suffice until it inevitability runs out.”

“It will run out?”

“Yes. All souls do, eventually, and this one even more so. I figure that after it’s done – it will just disappear. But by this point, decades should’ve passed and I’ll be able to go to Heaven.”

“You can’t go now?”

“Why would I?” Castiel replies while smiling against Dean’s hair. “Last I checked, you’re not in Heaven, and won’t be for a very long time. I’d rather be here with you, then waiting for you in Heaven.”

Damn, now Dean’s blushing.

 Sam’s a bit upset when Dean calls him. He’s wanted to see Jack too, and he’s also worried about the hospital staff. Nobody’s called Dean yet so Dean has hope that Jack made them forget.

“Cas is alive,” Dean says because he thinks that maybe Sam didn’t hear him properly the first time.

“I... yes. You said, I just... I can’t believe it. I didn’t even think... it’s amazing. How... how is he doing? Is he conscious? Can he talk at all?”

“Yeah. Jack said he’s probably gonna be sick for the rest of his life, but he’ll be able to move around again.”

Dean is in his kitchen; and Cas is asleep in the bed. It feels surreal. It feels like someone’s gonna pinch him in the arm and wake him up and then Cas is still gonna be dead and they’re still in the hunting life and then they go on a hunt just for one of them to die.

But that’s not gonna happen.

Their hunting days are finally over.

“Can we come over?”

Dean looks around. Them coming here might be better than hauling Cas into the car. Cas just came back so he might get tired more easily.

“Only if you bring the dog. I don’t think Cas has properly met her yet and that’s a crime.”

Over the line, Sam laughs. “Yes, we’ll bring the dog. We’ll be there in about half an hour. Prepare to hold a crying baby, Dean.”

“Oh, it just feels like yesterday when I was wiping your dirty ass.”

Sam hangs up and Dean grins.

There’s hope for a future in his heart and for the first time, he’s not afraid of it. Things will get better and they’ll start getting better now.

 Cas made it to the couch when Sam and Eileen arrive. As per Sam’s promise, Maria is crying her heart out and Dean feels sorry for Sam. Eileen, God bless her, probably doesn’t hear the crying too much. Dean guesses it’s Sam who gets up in the middle of the night, judging by his face. Dean grins and bends down to greet Miracle. Man, he’s missed her.

“Cas,” Sam says and Cas responds in kind. In the corner of his eye, Dean can see that Cas tries to get up from the couch but decides against it in the last moment.

Eileen walks right over and plops herself and her baby next to him. “Your niece,” she says and Cas smiles at the baby who stopped crying when she spotted Cas.

“Hello, Maria,” Cas says. Maria blinks in his direction and after some thought, reaches out for him.

Cas takes her easily and puts her in his lap.

“Have you been keeping for father up?”

Maria wiggles her arms.

“You know, for all I missed, I’m glad Jack decided to skip the toddler phase. I wonder what happened to all the diapers I bought. My doula classes were very unhelpful with my son but they might come in handy with you, hm?”

Maria smiles brightly and starts whipping in Cas’ lap.

“Hm. I guess I can be Big Blue if you want.” He boops her nose. “But then you have to be Little Cutie.”

Maria blinks at him, then laughs and claps her hands. She turns her head to her mom and brabbles to her and Eileen just smiles.  

“You speak Baby, Cas?” Sam asks and Cas turns his head.

“No. Babies don’t use words like we do; it’s more of a... sense. A feeling if you will. They can’t think in complete sentences yet. It’s along the lines of Sad because hungry. Upset because dirty. Happy because play. Happy because friend. Like that.”

Cas smiles and lifts Maria up and she giggles.

“Guess she found a friend in you, huh?”

“That she did.”

 *

 Dean isn’t surprised when Castiel and Miracle get along splendidly. As soon as the dog warms up to the angel, Dean is permanently degraded to giver of food and honestly, he’s not even mad at that. Miracle keeps Cas company when Dean has to go to work and they even go on walks together – never very far in the beginning because Cas still has to get his legs under him but the important bit is that Miracle makes Cas leave the bed or the couch.

There are days, sometimes more and sometimes less, where Castiel is sad. Dean knows that that word is probably an understatement, but he doesn’t want to call it depression – it’s too big of a word and Dean’s afraid of it.

There are days when Castiel’s body just refuses everything and anything. Cas doesn’t want to see or hear Dean on these days and Dean respects that. He wants to be there, but his presence is upsetting Cas way too much.

Cas isn’t used to being sick and somewhere deep down Dean thinks he remembers. Cas needs to be useful. And on these days, he’s not useful at all. But Dean doesn’t know how to tell Cas that it’s okay. He doesn’t know how to make Cas understand that he doesn’t have to be useful. No words that Dean could come up with seem good enough for him. So he stays silent and he knows it’s not the right thing to do.

Cas gets sick at least one time a month, sometimes more. He’s always sick for at least two days, battling fever and puking up goo. Dean’s terrified every single time.

“I’m fine,” Cas says every time and Dean wants to believe him.

I love you, he wants to tell him but he’s afraid.

He’s not sure what he’s afraid of.

Cas cries at night sometimes and Dean pretends not to hear.

Cas has nightmares sometimes and Dean sleeps on the couch.

He doesn’t understand himself.

“Dean,” Cas says one day just after his bad days ended.

“I know you don’t love me. It’s alright. I’ve accepted that. It doesn’t change what I feel, how I feel. You are – I’ve never met someone like you. There have been others that have fascinated me, but – but I’ve only ever watched them from a distance. I was never inclined to come closer, to get to know them, to have them know me. I was content just watching them from afar, learning about them and studying them from my high perch.

But you –

I wasn’t supposed to get involved. I was supposed to tell you your part in the Apocalypse and then I was – I guess I was supposed to die.  But you were, well, you and it made me rethink. I wondered if you were right, if people could actually choose their own destinies.

And Sam – Sam as the Boyking of Hell, the true vessel of Lucifer, I expected him to be evil, I expected him to be malicious, but he wasn’t. Sam was good and kind and brave and the small spot of darkness was a stain on him, but then he’s only human and it didn’t even matter.

And I saw that I was wrong and I thought – I thought maybe Dean is right. Maybe this is a story we can choose for ourselves.

Maybe this could be a story that doesn’t end with humanity wiped out. Maybe this is a story that ends differently as it was foretold. I wanted to believe. I wanted to have faith in what you said and – and so I did.

I know you never had faith in me, but I had faith in you and – I never really stopped. People getting to choose their own lives, their own destinies, their own ends – it just had never been in the cards. Everything had always served a bigger plan; always aiming to getting closer to the one true end when there was so much more.

I’ve had people believe in me; when in the same breath they defied God himself. You’re here, they’d say, he is not.

And they were right. I was there; and he was not. I always wondered if our path was the right one – after all, who’d stop us if we were wrong? We’d listen to no one but God himself, so who would’ve been able to halt us in our wake? But still, I followed my orders and whenever I saw fit, I’d tweak them, just a little.

I’d let a child go. I’d give an old man a few more minutes to say good-bye. I’d save the mother giving birth. I’d do these things and I got punished for them and I’d falter. What if I did something wrong? What if I altered the big plan? What if the ending would never come as it had been planned? And maybe –

Maybe it didn’t. Maybe the mother I saved changed something. Maybe the old man saying good-bye gave closure to someone. Maybe the child I let go grew up to influence someone they were never meant to meet. Who can tell?

I realised something so small can change the world. Maybe it won’t change the world as a whole but someone’s world will be different.

But the point is: I went against my orders and every time, I got punished for it. And then I met you, and you went against your orders and I couldn’t see you getting punished. And I thought, maybe you had the right path. Maybe wrong decisions get punished and right decisions do not. So I decided to follow you. I decided to follow the path you were carving.

And then you left the path, so I decided to keep walking on it because to me, it was the right path to take. And I was right. Every time I got punished, I knew I was doing the right thing. They were wrong; and I was right.

They wanted to reverse me, they wanted to change me by any means possible but I didn’t let them. Even when they succeeded, I didn’t let them take you away from me. You allowed me to change, Dean, you allowed me to be who I’m really meant to be. And for that –

For that, I’ll forever be grateful. I was right. There was a better way and they were proven wrong. I’m – maybe I’m still defective. Maybe I’ll always be wrong, and broken, and useless. But if that’s who I am, then – then so be it.

I am – I was always ashamed of myself. Why couldn’t I be like the others? Why couldn’t I follow orders like them? Why was I so different? And no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did, I – I was always the outsider. The one that didn’t belong, not really, and –

And when I was with you, that didn’t change. I was still the outsider, I was still different. Not in the same way, sure, but still, I didn’t belong. I’ll never do. I’ll never belong anywhere, because maybe there’s no place for me after all.

But – I wasn’t supposed to be here at all. I was supposed to be dead. I’ve died again and again and I came back, again and again because – because I wasn’t done yet. There’s still more. It made me think that maybe I have a purpose. That I have a reason for living, no matter how small it might be. And I always wanted –

I always wanted to make you feel safe. I always wanted to be the guy you could trust in. I wanted you to call me, I wanted you to need me. I needed you to want me, but maybe you never did and that’s okay.

I’m here now. And once I’m – once I’m better, I’ll be on my way. I’ll find something to do. I’ll find a place where I can be useful but until I’m strong enough for that – maybe it’s okay if I stay a little bit longer?”

There’s something here, Dean knows that. There’s something here he’s supposed to say, some clever line, some heartfelt comment, but – but he doesn’t know.

Dean hears I don’t want to go.

So he says: “I don’t want you to go.”

And maybe that was the right thing to say after all.