#stupid sam tags my beloved

[fagcifer]

impromptu 2 hours scythe study instead of STUDYING FOR THE FUCKING WRITING TEST THAT IS TOMRROW MORNING GRHRHGHHRHHHRHTHG

i asked my friend for suggestions on the vibe of the scythe, and he suggested colours and adding sigils on to the handle. when i explained sams lore (lore) and he went,

im just a guy🎀

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— right people, wrong place

SUMMARY : part two of and their name was treason. confrontations and unexpected turn of events. the truth and the consequences. 

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst?, dirty talk/dirty thoughts, slight gunplay, cock bondage (i was scared), slight knife play, edging, sub!dean my beloved, degradation, cliffhangers (my saviour)

WORD COUNT : 3.3k

A/N : title from RM’s song💕. this fills the cock bondage square on my @jacklesversebingo card. I couldn’t stop thinking about James Bond getting his balls smacked xx

DEAN’S POV

He wasn’t going to lie, he felt betrayed. 

He also felt embarrassed. And ashamed. 

He could feel Sam’s gaze on him every once in a while.

Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly, attempting to ignore the pity on Sam’s face. 

The tension that filled the car couldn’t even be soothed by music. He knew that the tension was originating from himself. It wasn’t entirely Sam’s inability to comfort him, or whatever Sam was trying to tell him by not actually saying anything.

He sort of wished Sam would just say anything, so that it could be over and done with. Even if it was just to tell him he was dumb and that they should’ve just left…

Whatever. 

How could he be so stupid?

He could still feel her. 

Her lips on his neck, his chest, and around his cock. He could feel her hands in his hair, nails scratching desperately down his back, the clench of her wet heat around him. Her warm skin against his, soft and smooth. 

He remembered every detail because she asked him to.

He remembered the taste of her painted lips. The taste of her sweet tongue. The taste of her flowery skin. The taste of her pussy. 

He could still hear her voice. The way she begged and cried. For everything. To stop, to never stop. The way she praised him for the way he pleasured her.

“Remember me.” 

How could he forget her? 

Especially now.

Sam broke the awkward silence with a clear of his throat before announcing: “Okay, Charlie’s got her exact location.” Dean grunted softly for Sam to continue, but inside he was grateful for Charlie’s quick, hard-work at tracking her down. “She’s staying in the Spire Hotel, it’s ten miles away from our current location.”

Even if he did see her again, he had no idea what he would say to her. Any type of conversation would be humiliating for him.

READER’S POV

When she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped only in a white towel as her hair dripped with excess water, the last thing she expected was to be pushed into a wall so the front of her body faced the white, boring paint. A gun cocked audibly, the song of the chamber and bullets moving made her tense once the metal prodded at her ribs.

“I bet you didn’t think you’d see me again,” a familiar voice growled in her ear. She squirmed, turned as much as she could beneath the strong force of the man, to catch a glimpse of those beautiful green eyes and adorably dainty freckles. 

“You couldn’t have waited until after I’ve changed?” She whispered, only half nervous about pissing him off so much he actually went after her instead of cutting his losses. 

Dean chuckled bitterly and the gun moved away just for him to grab at her wrists in his painful grasp. With a thin rope, he tied her hands together behind her back, still pressing her against the wall with his hips. She squirmed again, but she was more aroused than afraid at the way he was handling her. 

“Stop moving,” he grunted and finally removed himself from her to yank her away from the wall. 

“Why?” She smirked, fluttering her lashes up at him as she allowed the towel to slip from her body. His eyes instantly dropped down to her breasts and sneaked lower, but it was quicker than she’d liked. He pushed her until she fell into the couch, leaning slightly on her side. “Thanks,” she muttered sarcastically, shifting to sit up straight and feel for the knot he made on the rope. 

Instead, she looked over to where the case had once been. It was missing, but she didn’t care much for it. She just had to make it out alive. She’d heard plenty of stories about Sam and Dean Winchester from Bela, she just didn’t know if they were exaggerated because Bela hated them so much. 

“Sam’s long gone with the case.” She looked over at Dean—who took a seat a foot away from her on the same couch—and rolled her eyes at him. He looked tired and messy still—from the sex. 

She eyed him curiously and he did the same. She could see the hickey on his pulse darkening, found the stain of her lipstick on the collar of his dress shirt, the missing buttons at the bottom when she became too impatient with them. His hair was a mess, but not the same mess from the way she pulled and tugged on it, it was now messy from his frustration. 

“You’re not as good as you think,” he broke the silence. 

“At sex?” She pretended to be serious and pouted a little. 

He faked a laugh. “Your plan is a mess, I didn’t expect to find you so quickly… I’m disappointed.” 

She scoffed and looked away from him, irritated and slightly embarrassed. She angrily searched for the knot and began to tug at random until she felt it become loose. 

“If you got the case back, why are you here?” She asked, dreading the possibility that maybe Bela was right about them being a step away from being serial killers. Dean leaned closer to her, a half-terrifying smirk on his plush lips.

“For revenge,” he whispered against her ear. Her skin prickled as his warm breath blew over her wet skin and on half-dry droplets, and her nipples tightened despite the anxiety that seized her body. 

His gun flashed against the lamplight and she chewed on her lip when she felt him tilt her head with the barrel of it against her jaw. Her stomach felt knotty and sick as the gun slid down her neck to her heart.

It was as if he were trying to imagine which way would be better. Her heart thudded with fear and she began to fumble with the knot she’d almost certainly started to loosen. He dragged the gun over her breast, across her nipple. Her skin tingled and she bit her lip, unfortunately aroused as his eyes followed the path of his steel gun. It moved lower and she watched the steel move down, as it became warm against her skin, rather than the enthralled eyes that were already steps ahead of her. 

He used the gun to part her thighs and she forced herself to look away, incredulously studying his face. She felt the metal against her folds, teasing and cold and slippery. Dean hummed deep in his chest and shifted to get a better look. 

Her legs opened wider, she was ashamed of that, but the way he bit his lip and turned pink was fascinating. He moved the barrel of the gun closer to her entrance and slid it back up to massage her clit with the warm arousal she could feel ruining the couch. 

She didn’t mind getting fucked by him in whatever way he wanted. What she minded was dying by his hand. She felt the rope slip from her wrist and she forced herself to focus on how to escape him and survive. 

His lips found hers in a surprisingly slow kiss. She lifted a brow and stared at the lashes that rested against pink freckled cheeks. He continued to blindly play with her clit and she was embarrassed to admit that part of her wanted to cum on his gun, but he pulled away with an almost cold stare that made her come to her senses. 

She braced herself and slowly pulled one hand out of the loosened knot and headbutted him as hard as she could. The gun fell loosely between her thighs and she gasped, more afraid of the gun going off than focused on the pain that spread across her forehead as Dean cupped his bloody nose. 

She grabbed the gun and slipped away before he could start grabbing at her again. Dean remained shocked, but his jaw clenched in anger and she shook away the rope before he could use it to his advantage and pointed the gun at him, her finger on the trigger. 

“I’m so sorry, your face is so pretty I kinda feel bad, but… I'm not a fan of you having the upper hand.” He blinked up at her, confused, stunned. He got up and she instantly pistol whipped him so he fell regrettably  hard and cold against the couch. 

She grimaced and watched him with the gun pointed at him, but he appeared to be knocked out cold. She waited for a few seconds before being sure about his unconsciousness. 

“Am I naked?” Dean's groggy voice made her smirk. She heard the clink and jingle of the handcuffs she used to keep him bound to the bed frame and turned around to admire her work. He did the same and eyed the metal wrapped around his wrists and the bed, and down at the pale yellow cloths that tied his ankles to the bottom of the bed. 

“Yeah, it’s payback for threatening me when I just came out of the shower.” She made her way to him, now dressed in a satiny robe, and gazed down at him with a pleased smile. 

He glared up at her. “You used me.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“We both used eachother,” she reminded him, “to pleasure ourselves.”

“No, you used me to get the signatures.” 

She laughed jokingly, then became serious. Dean frowned and squirmed when she sat down beside him. “Sex with you was purely for pleasure. It had nothing to do with the signatures, I could’ve gotten them without sleeping with you, trust me.”

“My brother-”

“Isn’t coming any time soon because I convinced him that we were fucking our hate away.” Dean's face fell and she showed him the messages she sent to Sam of her kissing him while he was unconscious. It looked believable. 

Dean's head bounced back on the pillow as he huffed out a breath in defeat. She moved her attention to the objects she’d placed on the bedside table behind her. Knives clashed and gleamed in the moonlight when she tugged the long, slim rope from the table.

She turned to find Dean with a blush on his cheeks. She lifted a brow and leaned towards him, the red rope dangled and slid with her. Dean swallowed, quickly glanced at the rope, and attempted to look over her body to catch a glimpse of what else she had on the table. 

“Were you going to kill me?” She asked to steal his attention and began to slowly unwind the rope from the coil it was in. 

“No,” he muttered, eyeing her movements cautiously. “Are you going to kill me?” 

She snickered mockingly and straddled his thighs instead of answering him. She admired him beneath her, from his messy brown locks on his head, the plush of his pink lips, to the redness clawing its way down his freckled chest, the softness of his stomach, and his semi-hard cock. 

He really was so beautiful, irritatingly hot, especially tied up. The way he was tied up to the bed made his arms look stronger and damn if she didn’t realise now that she never found someone else as attractive as she found him. 

“What are you doing?” Dean squirmed, and tugged at the cuffs in an attempt to pull himself upwards. 

“Lookin’ at you.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. 

“What are you gonna do?” He rephrased his question. 

Instead of giving him an answer, she slithered up his body, and closely studied his face. She traced the faint lines on his forehead, the tiny scar in the middle and the furrow of his brows. The curve of his lashes, the wrinkles at the corner of his curious green eyes, the bags beneath. The almost hard to tell crookedness of his nose, the freckles dusted across his flushed cheeks, the direction of his stubble. The shape of his lips, the freckles that managed to make their way onto the pillowy flesh. 

She kissed him. 

Slowly, experimentally. 

She waited for his response, kept the kiss PG-13, and received a soft moan from him as approval of her approach. The kiss slowly unravelled into something hotter, passionate, and even aggressive. 

He may have been tied up but it didn’t stop him from using his teeth to try to get the upper hand. All it did was set the mood. She gave what he did. From soft nibbles to harsh stinging of teeth on the puffy, red flesh of their sensitive lips. 

She reached down between their bodies to grip his cock at the base and slowly ran her dry hand up and down. Dean grunted against her mouth and bit her lip roughly in retaliation. She chucked and released him to play with the wetness between her legs instead. She dipped three fingers through the dampness and rubbed her clit to draw more arousal from herself. 

“I hate you,” Dean panted against her lips. 

“You kiss everyone you hate like that?” 

Before Dean could even get a word in, her hand was wrapped around his cock again to drag the tip around her slick entrance. His moan was strained and his words died after evaporating in his mind. 

“I can’t stop thinking about how you fucked me,” she murmured aginst his lips, refusing to give into his pleading eyes.  “I can still feel you inside me. Still feel your lips and tongue on my clit. On my tits. God, you are such a filthy whore, Dean.” He whimpered and the frame of the bed squeaked when he tugged at the restraints. “You eat pussy like a starved man. Want me to ride your pretty face again? Or did you like it better when you forced me to keep my legs open for you-”

“Please,” Dean whined, nuzzling her nose with his to ask for a kiss that she refused to give him once again. 

“No,” she replied firmly. Unfortunately for him, she moved away from him and he lost the wet heat of her pussy. His cock twitched excitedly when she slowly undid the lazy knot of her robe. He stared at what little skin she revealed and watched her grab the slim red rope he’d forgotten about completely. 

“What’s that for?“ 

“Your pretty cock,” she finally answered. Her eyes were glued to his face to gather as much information about how he was feeling. He swallowed and silently watched her start to cave his hardened cock with the rope. He hissed and moaned and whimpered at her light touch, at the rub of the thick strand against his sensitive, throbbing skin. 

When she finished, she tugged experimentally at the rope so that it tightened around his dick and then released it after a few seconds. She repeated the same action a few times and proceeded to carefully massage the skin beneath the head of his cock. 

“Fuck,” Dean breathed out, his thighs became tense and his hips bucked upwards. He looked away from the way the rope was intricately wrapped around him and stared at her amused face with his teeth buried in his bottom lip. 

“You look pretty when you come,” she murmured, her eyes flickered up to his. He blushed harder and squirmed more than he already was. “Can’t say every man looks pretty when they come, but damn… you sure know how to put on a show.” She squeezed his cock so he felt the rope and then relaxed her grip to tease the slit of his cock and play with his precum. 

“Fuck. Please, can’t you-”

“No,” she interrupted him. He licked his lips and frowned. She moved her hand away and reached over to the counter where a set of knives were sitting inside a knife storage bag. “I want this to last.” He swallowed when she picked out a knife. She stared at her reflection and unfocused her eyes to watch Dean behind the knife she held. “I’m not gonna hurt you… unless you count how painfully hard you are as me hurting you.”

She used the blunt edge of the knife to slide down his neck, slowly she followed the dips in his body, and with her eyes followed the messy trail of freckles on his sweaty skin. When the cold blade came closer to his crotch, Dean’s body became tense. 

“Can you not-”

“Shut up,” she replied instantly, and turned the knife over to the flat side when she slid it up against the rope around his dick. She watched him chew on his lip, but his stomach twitching along with his body showed her the true pleasure he felt when she spread his precum over his cock with the flat surface of the cold knife in the most casual way. 

“Look at you, you’re so turned on,” she teased. Dean swallowed again and licked his lip. She tugged gently at the rope with the knife and released the rope again after a few seconds. Dean groaned softly and squirmed relentlessly, the restraints on his body being tugged caused the bed to creak. 

“I wanna cum, please,” he murmured.

“I know, baby.” Mercifully, she placed the knife down on the table and gave him no chance to relax before wrapping her lips around the sensitive head of his cock and sucked at the precum that watered her mouth almost instantly. 

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, hips bucking up into her warm mouth. She released the tip to kiss and lick down the shaft, teasingly tracing the throbbing veins with her tongue until he started begging again. 

“Just let me- why won’t you let me cum?” 

She laughed and watched the arousing amount of precum that seeped into the ropes and dribbled down the rest of his cock with her saliva. She tugged at the rope, smiling playfully at him. “God, I just really loved it when you begged me to let you cum inside me last night.” 

“Please,” he laughed breathlessly, closed his eyes, kept moving his hips off the bed despite the way she became instead against his thighs. 

“Where?” She asked with a smirk, he opened his eyes and turned a shade darker. “Tell me where you wanna cum and I’ll give it to you, Dean,” she promised, leaning forward as she spoke so she could kiss him hard once she finished. 

He moaned against her mouth, and opened his lips without hesitation, waiting for her tongue to explore him as thoroughly as she had before. But she only gave a tiny, playful lick against his tongue with her own and moved down his neck to suck and bite at the mark she left behind earlier. 

 “Dean,” she murmured expectantly and squeezed his cock gently in her hands. Dean grunted in surprise, the handcuffs clinked, and the bed squeaked beneath the impatient shift of his hips.

“I wanna fill you up again, sweetheart, I wanna watch my cum.. drip out of your pretty pussy so I can lick it clean, and then make you cum on my tongue. Let me feel you,” he pleaded shamelessly, unaware of the wave of arousal that made her drip down her thighs once he spoke.

“You’re so pretty when you beg and so fucking filthy,” she murmured against his parted lips and simply pulled at the rope so it fall apart around his painfully hard and sensitive cock. “Pussy-obsessed slut, are you always this desperate?” 

She slowly aligned his cock with her dripping entrance and watched him hold his breath momentarily. His body slowly turned to jelly and he waited in unabashed anticipation for his cock to be buried deep inside her warmth once more. When the tip pressed into her, he released a shaky breath of relief, moaned loudly, and swirled his hips to push himself deeper into her. 

“You drive me so fucking crazy,” he murmured and nibbled on her lip, “ever since that damned taxi ride, I knew you were trouble.” 

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[space-writes]

wip extract

tagged by @chauceryfairytales, thank you! here’s a recent bit from Valloroth things, ft the grumpiest man in Mohaade, my beloved Vren 🔪🖤

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

“No job Zhira’s given you. Another private client?” The disdain in the words was audible. “Been taking a lot of those lately, Wraith. What is it, family business not exciting enough for you any more? I’m sure grandfather would send you back into the Empire if you asked.” Vren ground his teeth. Pure needling, the kind only born Zarahmin could get away with. This child would always have a place, never need to earn his keep, pay down a tally of life debt; he was of Zhira’s line, his position assured, so long as he didn’t do anything stupid. His rank would always be higher than Vren’s despite the fact he’d done nothing of worth, and never would. He wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in Voi’xindiiri. “Can I use the Waystation or not?” If he was refused, he’d simply go the long way down the Kalah River, take a boat over to Iaseri. Weeks of wasted time, but rather that than grovel. The divining power he could find in Voah’kasis would make up for it. “You can. Here.” From a pouch at his belt, the man pulled a small metal token, and tossed it to him. The spoked wheel of the Zarahmin was stamped on either side. “Take your trip. But Zhira will want to know why you’re taking it.” “He can want all he likes. My business is mine.” Khazen Zhira’s grandchild pushed off from the wall with a laugh. “You’re family, bhahan. All your business is ours.”

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @rhikasa @jmhwritesstuff and @eccaiia

Valloroth taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites @reininginthefirewriting @memento-morri-writes @foxboyclit @lawful-evil-novelist

@at-thezenith @morganwriteblr @fayeiswriting @serenanymph

@sam-glade @viscerawrites @thegreatobsesso @flower-reads (ask to be +/-)

[meidui]

writing pattern game!!

tagged by THE BEAUTIFUL, THE TALENTED, MY BELOVED @imperialstark @soliloquent-stark @16woodsequ

Rule: List the first line of your last 10 posted fics and see if there’s a pattern!

business affairs: Tony glances at the date on his calendar. Today is two years since Steve started working for him.

talk just right: Steve doesn’t talk a lot, and it bothers Tony.

he's my lovin' one-man show: Steve isn’t intentionally sleeping through the team one by one and leaving Tony off the list, but that’s the way it happens.

out of the cold: Steve has been running a days-long fever that’s steadily climbing towards 50°C.

on the mend: Steve rarely feels this awful after a fight, but then again, he hasn’t been on a solo mission in months. 

nothing wrong with love: Steve doesn’t know anyone until he pushes open the door to a record store because it looks like the only quiet place in this city, and the man sorting vinyls behind the counter looks up at him and smiles. From then on, Steve knows Sam Wilson.

tough it out: It was really weird, especially at first. Tony hadn’t taken parallel universes into account when he designed the time-space GPS because how the shit could he have known that was a possibility? 

best laid plans: Tony is the one who leaves, but he leaves loudly and in broad daylight. He says goodbye. Steve is the one who drops off the radar completely and doesn’t leave a phone number or address for him to find this time, lost in the half-dead darkness of New York. 

salt: Steve’s heard the stories of the water between these cliffs. Orpheus, who played his lyre, and Odysseus, who sealed his men’s ears with wax and tied himself to the ship’s mast. He didn’t end up here, sitting on the shore with sand and seawater in his boots talking to a beautiful siren with emeralds for eyes and fire for hair because he’s stupid.

grace requires nothing of me: Thanos takes one more thing from them before he turns his gaze to the horizon and crumbles into dust, and Tony’s arms close and close around a rapidly shrinking Steve until he finally gets a steady hold of him, but by then, those blue eyes that had been wide with fear have shuttered and Steve’s body has gone limp.

i'm so late to playing this game i feel like a lot of people have done it already? 🤭 tagging @areiton @cloudbells @tinystark616 @itsmaybitheway and everyone else who wants to do it!! <3

[caritobbg]

Coffee Disaster - P1

Bucky Barnes x Barista!Reader x Father Figure!Tony.

Summary: Tony and Bucky's feud has reached its limit of tolerance. What can happen when you leave a supersoldier and Iron Man alone for a few minutes? Answer: disaster.

A/N: well, this is my first Bucky's oneshot! This idea was a dream i had a couple of days ago 😅 I couldn't let it go, so I decided to write it. It might be a multi-chapter because of everything I've been writing 😅😂.

I hope you like it and enjoy it as much as I did while I was writing this story 🥺

TW: SO MUCH ANGST - Bucky&Tony being stupid - angry reader (yes, it's a warning) - sad Bucky - heartbreak

English isn't my first language. Sorry if there's any mistakes 😅

Tag: @ro-is-struggling @luciasimmer96 @themorningsunshine @mads-weasley @aquanova99 @alexsoenomel (if you wanna be tagged, just tell me 🥺❤️)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

"Y/N's Coffee Talk - CLOSED INDEFINITELY".

"Reason: ANTHONY EDWARD STARK - JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES".

Those were the signs that had all the people in the Avengers Tower furious. The tower's barista had decided to close her coffee bar because of a LITTLE INCIDENT a few days before between her father figure and the man she had fallen in love with. Although they didn't know what happened, they could imagine why Y/N was more than upset with them.

The enmity between them reached its limit for such a silly reason! They both wanted the best for her, but their differences did the opposite.

Neither spoke as they pulled out and threw away what was destroyed, each in their own mind carefully planning every step to take to recover that broken relationship and avoid every person in the tower lining up to have their heads as a reward.

Bucky: We should get to work - breaking the overwhelming silence and finishing throwing the last piece of broken wood into the dumpster - this has gone far enough.

Tony: I know - feeling just as guilty - Y/n had put a lot of effort into her work to get all this done.

Bucky: we'll have to do our best to reverse this situation.

Bruce: I want to talk to you two -approaching them with Nat- what did you do to leave the place like that? You know that y/n...

Tony: Yeah yeah, we know - rolling his eyes - that's why we're going to get to work right away.

Nat: Can we know what happened? Steve didn't give details, but even he's itching to rip your heads off.

Tony: It's a long story, but...

Bruce: start talking - impatient

Bucky: what happened was...

Flashback:

Y/N: Good morning James - opening the door and letting out the beautiful smell of freshly brewed coffee - the usual? -with her trademark smile -double shot of espresso with a spoonful of sugar?

Bucky: Good morning Y/N/N -smiling at him- yes, please.

Y/N: Funny so early in the morning here, I thought you were going for a run with Sam?

Bucky: I was -laughing- I needed a moment of peace before the birdbrain makes me kill him -she just laughed and shook her head- also...-dubiously- I wanted to talk something with you

Y/N: mm? What is it? -purging her machine to place the sieved filter holder in it

Bucky: I wanted to know if...

Y/N: Oh no -pulling out his phone-

Bucky: What's wrong?

Y/N: Steve promised to help me upload the new order, they brought beans from Ethiopia, they are some of the best and with an indescribable flavour! -anxious and happy- and it looks like it's already arrived because he just texted me to say it's downstairs.

Bucky: uh.. Ok, it can wait -giving him a warm smile- don't worry.

Y/N: -serving his coffee- are you sure you don't want to tell me now?

Bucky: really doll, don't worry. I'll tell you later and... You make the best coffees in the world

Tony: Speaking of coffee, how about my cappuccino? -looking at the scene before his eyes- I thought it would be ready by now.

Y/N: You're going to have to wait Stark, until I get back I'm not going to make you your beloved cappuccino -passing by his side and grabbing a list of the order-.

Tony: But...

Bucky: Leave her alone Tony, Steve's waiting for her downstairs.

Tony: Did I ask you something?

Bucky: Don't rush her, she's got to go get...

Tony: -ignoring him- come on girl, I need your cappuccinos- behaving like a little kid

Y/N: -hanging up her apron- Tony, wait for me in about... -looking at the time- 30 minutes and I'll do it. I'm not leaving Steve alone downstairs with the three bags of coffee at 3kg each!

Tony: Fine -annoyed- but you'd better...

Bucky: Yeah yeah, make your cappuccino when she's back. Leave her alone Stark

Tony: Shut your mouth Barnes, nobody asked you anything here.

Bucky: And what are you gonna do if i don't...

Y/N: OK YOU TWO -separating them- what did I tell you about arguing here?

Tony&Bucky: that you'll ban us from entering until we settle our differences.

Y/N: exactly -checking that nothing is missing- well, in 30 minutes I'll be back here. In the meantime -seriously- behave like the adults you are -leaving them and closing the door while putting up a "be right back" sign.

Tony: What are you doing here winter? -crossing his arms-

Bucky: None of your business, tin man - sitting down near the bar.

Tony: Uh-huh, right. You never miss your morning jog with Sam or Steve, something brought you here early.

You see, Tony considered Y/N like a daughter. Ever since he met her in that coffee shop in downtown NYC and, months after learning that she was out of work and that her parents had died -years before- in an accident, he swore he would protect her with everything in his power. And that protection included keeping a certain super-soldier away from her.

Bucky: I told you it's none of your business - texting Sam.

Tony: What do we have here... -pulling out his phone and checking it

Bucky: HEY! STARK, GIVE THAT BACK TO ME -chasing him all over the place until he stopped abruptly-

The big ironman couldn't believe his eyes. He kept seeing those messages over and over again.

{SW} AND? Did you tell her? What happened?

[BB] No, not yet.

{SW} Why?! Buck, you have to invite her! Don't waste your time!

Tony: Really Barnes?! I told you to stay away from her! You were going to ask her out!?

Bucky: so what? -putting his phone away- yeah, I want to ask her out, is there a problem with that?

Tony: I'm not going to let you....

Bucky: What you're not going to let? A retired, recovered assassin asking out his best friend?

Sure... "best friend." Since the day they met, Bucky can't get her out of his mind. Y/N was amazing, someone he could spend hours and hours talking to about whatever was on their minds, the one person who could calm him down when his nights were plagued by nightmares of his stormy past. His love for her reached a higher level where he loved her as more than just his best friend.

Tony: I told you, stay away from her -pushing him away-.

Bucky: Stark, I'm warning you -threatening- don't provoke me. You're not her real father.

Tony: Uhh that's scary, -mocking him- and no, I'm not her father, but I'll do anything to keep her away from the monster that...

A fist connecting directly to his face prevented him from speaking any further. Indeed, his provocation brought out the worst in the supersoldier. Tony landed on one of the tables, knocking it completely off and leaving only splinters.

Tony: -still giddy- that's how you want to play it, huh? -slowly getting up and wiping away the small drop of blood that was falling on his lip- we can fix it.

Bucky: Do it

And the fight began.

They both dodged all the blows of their nemesis with speed, though some of them landed on their bodies. They used EVERYTHING there was to defend themselves: chairs, tables, cups, anything they saw was a "weapon".

Bucky: come on tin, it doesn't have to end like this - throwing himself on top of Tony and putting his legs in a headlock on his neck.

Tony: I'm not going to let you beat me, Terminator.

Out of nowhere, a turbine noise is heard coming through the window.

Bucky: You're a... -One of the suit's gloves hits him and sends him flying to the bar where moments before Y/N was preparing the coffee.

Tony: -going to Bucky grabbing him by his clothes- now I'm going to give you what you deserve.

The door opens at that instant and they both go pale.

Steve: What the... -leaving the roasted coffee to one side and unable to believe what was before his eyes.

Y/N: Steve, what's wrong? -appearing from behind him- what...

Her eyes couldn't believe it. Her coffee shop, the place she had staked all her savings and dreams on, totally destroyed. From all the furnishings to the crockery and...

Y/N: m... My... My cafeteria... -looking all around- no... Nononono... WHAT DID YOU DO! -noting that Bucky was right on top of her espresso machine- YOU DESTROYED MY CARIMALLI! -looking at them furiously- DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I SAVED TO GET IT!!!!?????

Looking around, the two realised how much trouble they were in. Regret and shame at their behaviour were the first emotions they felt.

Tony: Y/N/N...

Y/N: - turning totally red - Anthony and James, I told you to behave like adults, not to fight like the two little boys you are, but it seems that every time someone asks you to do that, you ignore it - raising his voice even more and getting closer as they backed away and Steve was only an observer of the situation and enjoying every second - I told you I'd be back in 30 minutes, you promised me not to do anything, what did you do? DESTROYED WHAT MADE ME MOST HAPPY, -pushing them both, although it didn't do much to hurt them any more than they already were.

Anthony and James. Their full names. Steve slowly approached his side to avoid further altercations between the trio in front of him and to call for help in case something happened to Y/N.

Bucky: Doll, we're sorry. We made a really big mistake and....

Y/N: sorry isn't going to fix anything James - walking away with her hands shaking, eyes teary and agitated - this.... There's no turning back

Bucky: are you okay? -scared to see his condition

Y/N: No... -trying to breathe- I don't want you talking to or looking for me...either...both of you.... -her anxiety was reaching its peak- I need to leave. Steve... I don't... I don't feel well

Tony: princess, please -seeing her get out of there as fast as possible

The three men stood alone looking out over the war territory. Steve was disappointed that Bucky was letting Tony's provocations get the better of him, he knew this was going to happen someday, but not a fight on this scale.

Steve: -watching them for a moment- really? Bar fight?

Tony: Rogers, we know we screwed up and let the grudge get the worst of us, but I wasn't going to let Barnes make her suffer. It's HIS fault for starting this.

Bucky: MY FAULT? You started provoking me and treating me like something I'm not anymore.

Tony: Sure, you didn't throw the first punch, did you?

Steve: OK, ENOUGH! -seeing Steve angry wasn't an everyday occurrence- you have to fix this mess now and it better be soon. This ends now

F.R.I.D.A.Y: Captain Rogers, Miss Y/L/N needs your help.

Steve: What's going on?

F.R.I.D.A.Y: I detected that her stress levels are very high and she can't breathe. She is in her room.

Steve: tell her I'm on my way - scrubbing her face with his hands - clean up and start doing something. Now.

Tony: Now we're screwed.

______________________________________

Tony: And after that we saw Steve take her to the medical wing because her anxiety was getting worse and worse - feeling guilty about what caused that situation.

Bruce: You've got to be kidding me -in disbelief- did you really fight over her?

Bucky: Yeah -embarrassed- we realised too late what we did and ended up hurting her in the worst way.

Nat: By ignoring her and breaking her trust in both of us over a stupid argument?

Tony: Ouch.

Bucky: That hurt, but.... Yeah - wiping the dust off his hands - we'd better start now, there's no time to waste.

Tony: Yeah, but where do we start? -heading with everyone to the tower- we destroy her dream coffee shop.

Bruce: What does she like? -helping them a little, he felt sorry for these two- there's got to be something that you know about.

Bucky: -getting on the elevator- umm... one of the renovations she always wanted to do was to change the current colours for brighter ones and the chairs and tables for ones that...

Tony: well, that's a start - clasping his hands together - let's go to the lab to plan....

The doors opened and they found Y/N in the living room. Nat approached her slowly and placing a hand on her shoulder and only gave her a faint smile that faded as she saw Bucky, as Tony continued on his way to his office in the lift.

Bruce: Nat, I need you to help me with something, - understanding what was about to happen- now

Bucky: Y/N/N... -seeing that they were all alone as they disappeared through the kitchen doorway

Y/N: my dream was always to have a coffee shop of my own -sighing- no matter the place or the people, I always wanted that, besides starting college -the painting she was holding in her hands ended up broken in the trash before he could say a word- now I know that what everyone said was true.... I'm never going to be able to fulfil it. All thanks to you two

That broke Bucky.

Bucky: doll, don't say that, of course....

Y/N: no "doll" - annoyed - you let the provocations get to your head when I told you over a million times to ignore it!

Bucky: yeah, I know, I just didn't...

Y/N: I thought you'd changed James, that you weren't letting anger consume you anymore -disappointed

Bucky: what? -speechless- of course I don't let my past bring out the worst in me anymore, don't say those things, please.... -taking her hands- I wasn't thinking about what I was doing and...

Y/N: James. Stop it. - turning away from him with teary eyes - I asked you not to make a big deal out of it. You did the opposite. Everything's changed now. Oh, God! I even thought that... -biting her tongue- enough, it doesn't matter now.

Bucky: what did you think? -in a whisper and annoyed with himself- tell me

Y/N: nothing, it doesn't matter -getting up to leave

Bucky: don't go -taking her by the arm- please, tell me

Y/N: James, no, that's it.

Bucky: please, - locking his stormy eyes on hers- I want to know and I'll stop bothering you until I come up with a solution.

Y/N: -taking a deep breath- I liked you -letting go of his grip- I wanted to tell you that very day, I had worked up the courage. It's all gone now. -leaving him alone with his thoughts

He couldn't believe what he heard. Y/N, his best friend, had the same feelings as him, she reciprocated! On the one hand he wanted to jump up and down and scream with happiness, on the other hand he wanted to beat himself up for what his anger accomplished.

Slowly he walked to the bin where the picture was and curiously picked it up and was stunned. It was the collage with all the pinterest pictures they had taken together at the bar one night when neither of them could sleep. It took him a couple of minutes to react and go to Stark to start executing the plan.

Sam: Wow dude - bumping into him in the hallway - what's up?

Bucky: She likes me -shaken from running- she likes me and I ruined everything -showing him the painting- but I'll fix it.

Sam: - confused - and this is it?

Bucky: this is the dream coffee shop that Y/N always wanted - walking next to him - I'll do my best to recreate it in reality and make her happy - more than determined-.

Sam: so -crossing his arms- where do we start?

_________________________________________

Tell what you think guys 🥺 I will be uploading the following parts soon ❤️

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC Questionnaire

Thanks to @willtheweaver here, @theeccentricraven here, @paeliae-occasionally here, here, and here, @the-golden-comet here and here, and @somethingclevermahogony here!

Hey, this is somehow still not all the tags I have for this game but I'm cutting it off at eight again!

Previous questionnaires:

Round one masterpost

Round two: Tyler, Gwen, Liam, Noelle, Akash, Robbie, Sam, Ewan

Round two: Jazlyn, Carla, Wade, Rose, Maddie, Xitlali, Jedi, Lexi

Keep reading for Ash, Kelsey, Atsila, Teo, Carmen, Issa, Raissa, and Gabriel

#1- Ash

What would it take for you to admit you were wrong?

“That's a bit hard because I really don't like admitting it. It sucks. I hate being wrong about things. [Pause] I guess it has to be pretty bad. I am usually sure I'm right about a lot of things, but this drama happened last year with Shelby, and I did admit to Lexi that I was wrong about her. But that was only after this weird thing happened with her dad. I dunno. It freaked me out.”

Are you forgetful? If so, how do you remind yourself to do things?

“Admittedly a little. But I have Lexi to remind me to do a lot of things.”

Do you consider yourself a neat freak?

“Pfft, no. Hannah is. We share a room, so that sucks to be her.”

More Ash: questionnaire one, two truths and a lie, bingo, bag, origin, OC in three, interview

#2- Kelsey

Have you ever gone against your morals? What got you to or would get you to make that decision?

“Can't think of a lot of things. [Thinks] Well, occasionally I'll have a thought I don't like. Like once, when we first arrived in Alium, I got bored and frustrated, then I realized I was super worried about Maddie and my cousins, and felt bad for being bored. I dunno, actually. I like to stick by my morals. I guess I'd put my morals after my family, but I feel like having a family value is a moral. This is stupid; forget I said anything.”

Did you have any speech disorders as a child?

“I had a bit of a lisp, which definitely didn't make me a bigger target for bullying on top of my ticking. And struggling to read.”

Do you carry the popular opinion or unpopular opinion in your society? Or would you say you are on the fence or in the middle?

“I can't really think of an unpopular opinion. I guess I don't like Cheez-Its.”

Other Kelsey: OC in three, Picrew, bingo, questionnaire one

#3- Atsila

Would you do something illegal if you were getting paid a large sum of money? (You can choose the illegal thing)

“Pfft, yeah, who wouldn't? I can choose the illegal thing? Easy: my good friend Gwandoya is a speedster. He'll help me exceed the speed limit, and then we'll get a fine. And then I get a large sum of money, which makes the fine meaningless.”

What is your favourite non-human creature in the world and why? (Gods count)

“I must say dragons. My beloved Custos is a wonderful companion.”

If you were forced to kill one person you have met, who would it be. (Not yourself)

“Raissa Kamanzi, no doubt. I unfortunately have met her.”

Other Atsila: questionnaire one

#4- Teo

If you had a pet, what animal would it be?

“A dog or a fox, easily. Wade and I want to own foxes one day - they're so adorable!! And, like, K'Ehleyr is the best dog I have, like, ever met.”

How long would you like to live? Why?

“As long as I can! I want to, like, grow old together with Wade, and of course Parker. If we can all, like, die of old age, at, like, the same time, that would be just lovely. Sound minds at, like, 99. That sounds amazing.”

When will you be done?

“... Wait, that's, like, the whole question? Done with what? Life goals?? Let's go with that. I want to live a fulfilling life. Make, like, an impact on the world. Start a family. I think becoming, like, a YouTuber would be, like, awesome. And when I'm, like, done with making content, I'll be done. I guess. I hope I understood this question.”

Other Teo: questionnaire one, kiss picrew

#5- Carmen

Why did you leave home?

“Why did I agree to this interview? Ugh, I was a young adult, let's move on.”

What is your ideal job?

“I am perfectly happy where I am. [Pause. Pause. Pause.] Though I'll admit that I have wished I were apart of the Alii Power Database Council. I have a few words about organizing the subpowers alphabetically rather than rarity - since it makes it impossible to find anything unless you have the rarity memorized - but I suppose it is consistent. Working directly with the database council would allow me to gain greater funding to research the powers and certain potential subpowers.”

What will life look like when you complete your main goal?

“Wasn't this question asked to Mr. Attwood's Ceter boyfriend? Whatever, I just wish I was asked more unique questions. I hope to fulfill Atsila's wishes by completing her study on Alii from Ceteri and stopping the Refugae.”

Other Carmen: OC in three, OC in fifteen, Picrew, smash or pass, art, interview, questionnaire one

#6- Issa

Would you sacrifice yourself for another?

“Uh, yeah, duh. What kinda silly question is that? It would be wrong not to.”

How often do you daydream?

“Uh, quite often, actually. I find it so easy to be distracted.... Oops, sorry I fazed out for a second; thought of something CJ said earlier. Anyway, uh, my mind is a theater; constantly stuff is just happening up here.”

What is your favorite activity?

“Oh, I'm in musical theater! I love theater! I'm a champion at improv nights. I've also performed comedy skits there. I'm also in the art club and the debate club, and I'll attend book clubs! I also like baseball a bit, though I prefer to watch with CJ and Alex and Wendy. I'm not on a team, but maybe someday! Oh, yeah! Hanging out with my friends!”

Other Issa: questionnaire one

#7- Raissa

How many people have you killed?

“Ha-ha! I'm sorry, I had to laugh - what are you talking about? That's the dumbest way I've ever heard an interview start! How is that the first thing on your mind when you're sitting down with me? [Face hardens] Regardless, the answer to your question is irrelevant, and I find it incredibly offensive.”

Favorite type of drink?

“I am quite fond of green wine. Why do I have to answer such trivial questions?”

Do you smoke?

“... Occasionally.... This was a waste of time; I must get back to work.”

Other Raissa: questionnaire one

#8- Gabriel

What would you say is your greatest weakness?

“Tsk. I don't like to think of myself as a person with weaknesses. Cassidy says I'm too uptight. He's wrong, of course. Jaz sometimes says I'm stubborn. I think Traeger called me rude once. I suppose it is frustrating that I can't adapt to unfamiliar situations as much as I'd like.”

Who is someone in your life that you like but that you don't trust?

“Bold of you to assume I trust anyone.”

If you could magically learn any mundane skill right now (cooking, a particular dance, a language, singing, sewing, etc.), what would it be?

“Part of learning the skill is the learning itself. The process. I would rather not instantly learn a skill. However, if I must answer this question...I suppose it would be nice to just learn how to drive. I find it admittedly frustrating that knowing exactly how cars work and what to do to drive them is not appearing to help me.”

Other Gabriel: questionnaire one

Tagging @sleepywriter00 @finickyfelix @rehnwriter @dyrewrites @talesofsorrowandofruin

+ ANYONE ELSE

Your questions:

1) What is something you spend a lot of time worrying about? 2) Would you prefer to leave where your hometown and never come back or stay in your hometown and never be able to leave? 3) Do you own something to rarely/never use?

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

[klugpuuo]

gamer OVER, GAMER

hi im klug aka arc aka silvers (please call me silvers) aka etc. [pronouny link] and this is my acc where im awesome and normal

i love a lot of different media but my current main interest is. rain world :] i hav a blog specifically for it over at @threedeliciousflavors so go check it out if you want!!

i also have a few other cool blogs, such as @ebbofcyanwhispers (my edit bloog), @catboyklug and @dogboyklug (writing and art blogs respectively), @new-squidbeak-gaytoon (my splatoon blog) and @oceanremnants and @oceanic-recollection (my rw rp and ask blog)

if youre curious abt what other interests i have, or wanna know more abt my more original content, check out my toyhouse [link], shoot me an ask or check the #pinned post tag to see a list of stuff i find neat and cool!!

also : klug talks -> english talking tag sam spreekt -> NEDERLAAAANDSEEEEEE spreken tagggggghh once i learn more frisian (which is literally my mother tongue fuck my stupid baka life) ill make a tag for that too !!

CHECK OUT MY PARTNOIR @whisperingzeltus val is my everything my silly kitty my most beloved person in the entire world i have never loved someone as much as i love whisp . ok

[tweltchy]

Well, hello. I haven't been tagged in one of these things for literal years! Was tagged by @c-n-i-d-a-r-i-a-n to fill out a sort of "get to know me" meme. Thanks so much!! To keep this going, I'll tag some beloved mutuals.

@rye-satchel, @kaykayfranco, @lottafuckingshit

3 ships:

Not much of a shipper and the ones I do like are kinda strange, but I got a few that hold a place in my heart. It's not three, tho. Ye get two.

Rarity x Applejack (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

The MLP Resurgence on this website is a gift from above. I get it now........... they are so cute and we stan gay horses. Iconic butch/femme couple....... I don't think I need to say more than that.

Sam Winchester x Castiel (Supernatural)

Feel like i need to justify myself here.

Listen........... i know the show is dumb and stupid and it's over now, but I still think about it. Tbh, I shipped it out of spite at first, but then I kinda started to see potential in it, and now it's one of my OTPs. They are both queer in some way and i will die on that hill. Big sucker for the Friends to Lovers trope, and and and...... idk I just think they're sweet, especially given their growth together in the show. plus Sam doesn't abuse Cass like Dean does so that's a plus lolololololol

IDK. I just think if Cass confessed to Sam, Sam would have at least shown strong emotion. Probably would have tried to sacrifice everything to try and get him back.

first ship:

Zack Fair x Aerith Gainsborough (Final Fantasy VII)

Again, not really much of a shipper, but I remember the first ship that I reeeeeaaally got into was this one. They are just...so perfect for each other.... it's hard not to love them.

last song:

The most underrated as well as the darkest song the band ever made. I think about it constantly and adore it.

last film:

Ginger Snaps (2000)

It's one of my absolute favorite movies of all time. I saw it was free to watch on YouTube and watched it twice in a row. It's so good and a unique take on werewolf stories. I recommend it if you have an interest in werewolves. It is free to watch in English on YouTube, but it's only available to watch in the USA for some reason. It's blocked everywhere else, INCLUDING Canada. ??? That's dumb as hell. Snag a VPN and watch it.

Regardless!! Good movie.

currently reading:

-Lots of TTRPG corebooks/rulebooks.

I love tabletop RPGs!!!!

-Tender Is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica.

Jules Dapper on YouTube sold me on this book, and it's one of my new favorites. Very dark and depressing, but also very compelling!

currently craving:

A BIG sandwich with every vegetable ever.

fav color:

All shades of purple!

relationship status:

Not single.

last google search:

"halifax glove guy"

The fact that this dude is actually real and not some weird urban legend fascinates me more than it should. Stay safe out there, guys.

current obsessions:

-TTRPGs

-BIRDS!!!!

-Kingdom Hearts (my forever fandom and favorite game series ever)

-Final Fantasy series

-Animation and art

Thanks for tagging me!! :D

[saturns-ringg]

ok guys.... hear me out... modern lotf au I'll explain thingys here!! its an au me and my friend (IM TAGGING YOU SILLY GUY: @fruityahhbread) created (but im like sharing what I think hehe) , so all of these are basically headcanons!! (btw, I decided to age them all up to 15-16-17 because sort of a hs au) (AND IN THIS AU WE'RE REFUSING TO BELIEVE SIMON AND PIGGY DIED IK, WEIRD.) simon: -mitski stan -they/them/he -has braces -that one kid who was really weird in middle school -🏳️‍🌈 -filipino -autistic yippee creature -his mom is single (AND PROBABLY GAY ‼️) -cottagecore/softcore aesthetic -15 -5'3 (shorrttt) -dating roger roger: -🏳️‍⚧️and pan -gets called emo but really isn't -literally HOMOcidal -happy only with simon -abusive dad -very good fashion sense -grunge-y aesthetic -poc -16 -5'9 -dating simon (ofc) jack merribitch: -bi -theater kid -literally a whore or wholesome no inbetween -his intrusive thoughts won on the island -wears I <3 MILF/DILF shirts (aswell as similar ones) -has the personality of every single redhead ever -pale as paper -feral choir kid -hearing loss </3 also forgets to put hearing aids in alot -adhd -17 (he got held back a grade 😧) -6'2 (TALL) -dating ralph (they're so gay for eachother istg) ralph: -pan -burnt out gifted kid -borrows things but doesn't return them -still a coral island fanboy -"damn daddy" -ADD/OCD vibes -still that goofy ahh golden fair boy -16 -5'9 -dating jack (ofc, he looked at jacks shorts...) maurice: -bi but still makes fun of gay ppl?? -probably laughs at among us jokes and other stupid memes -gets Fs in all his classes because of our beloved adhd -curly ass hair that he doesn't control -annoying af but sometimes is just eepi -kind of pookie -prolly simps for sam -makes fun of everyone -16 -6'0 piggy: -aroace (SLAY) -nerd -also codes -"BUT- MY AUNT SAYS- MY ASTHMA-" -gets bullied :( -has that buzzcut but like, aestheticer if yk what I mean -peter is his true form name -actually really nice -16 -5'7 (short)

[ao3feed-sambucky]

welcome home

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/46508629

by Niol

“So what silly shit have you got for me?” Bucky asks.

  Sam dumps Bucky to the side and leaps off the couch like he’s been waiting for Bucky to ask. Bucky laughs at the stupid man.

  Sam brings his husband home a present from a mission in Paris

Words: 2855, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Alpine (Marvel), Figaro (Marvel)

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Married Life, Domestic Fluff, soo so soft, Domestic, Retired Bucky Barnes, Post-Canon, POV Bucky Barnes, boys in lingerie, my beloved, bucky at one point is roman roy saying fuck it, small discussion of body image, Implied Sexual Content, House husband Bucky Barnes, Boys in Love <3, not beta'd i'm sorry i just wrote it instead of sleeping and pressed post, I have a flight in the morning what is my issue

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/46508629

[liopleurodean]

The Road So Far: Season 6

Holy smokes. What a ride.

If you're new, this is my recap/reflection on season 6 of Supernatural. You can find all of my previous commentary under the "ashla chick flick moments" tag (or block it, if you so wish. I don't mind.)

Well. Where do I even start? The beginning, I guess.

Dean got out. That's... so monumental. Obviously, it didn't last, but I truly believe that if the Winchesters were less famous then he could have made it. I understand why people don't like Lisa, but I can still see them being good together, and I think that he really did love her, and he absolutely loved Ben like his own. Speaking of Ben, the kid's acting was... not great, but it's a child actor, so I'll give it a pass. As it is, I'm a firm believer that Ben is Dean's son, biological or not.

I guess we have to talk about Sam, huh? Man, there were so many times when I wanted to just. Slap him. Or punch him in the face with a brick. Either would work. Even when he got his soul back, he got right back into his pushy self. I get that he wanted to "atone," but he really just did not get it.

Speaking of slapping people, Cas. Oh my stars, this angel is so stupid. Like, yeah, the boys could've been more appreciative for what he did for them, but could really not see when he went too far? 6x20 The Man Who Would Be King almost made me feel bad for him, but he wouldn't back down even when it was clear that something was wrong.

This has been really depressing, so let's get into the fun stuff! Holy cow, this season had so many bangers. Count 'em up: 6x02 Two And A Half Men, 6x05 Live Free Or Twi-Hard, 6x09 Clap Your Hands If You Believe, 6x15 The French Mistake, 6x17 My Heart Will Go On, 6x18 Frontierland, and 6x21 Let It Bleed all make my list. My favorite is probably gonna be Frontierland, which is honestly one of the lesser episodes on this list, but I have reasons: 1) the Good Omens parallel was absolutely hilarious even if it was unintentional, and b) I've always thought that Samuel Colt was cool since way back in season 2. This only made him more awesome. And anyway, watching Dean in the Wild West was hilarious, if a little embarrassing. Sorry dude, but you should've known Hollywood would make things look weird.

One thing that I will say about this season is that it's all over the place. I think, after wrapping up the story all nice with a bow in season 5, they didn't really know what to do, so they just kind of improvised. It was a risky gamble, but it paid off with one or more of the fandom's favorite episodes, and one of the most memorable characters. There were multiple story arcs moving at once (Eve, Soulless!Sam, Ben and Lisa, Cas vs. Raphael) and all of them managed to fit seamlessly together. Despite all of the development that had to fit in a regularly sized season, I didn't really feel like it was rushed, especially not compared to the end of season 5. They managed to blend everything together while still keeping it manageable to understand.

Mostly, I just felt bad for Dean. In the span of weeks, he lost his semi-girlfriend, his son, and his best friend, while still juggling the emotions from his brother's close calls as well as everything else going on. Obviously, he's not the only one struggling (Bobby Singer deserves a vacation) but man, Dean needs a hug and a nap, and then another hug when he wakes up.

Baby. My beloved. The most important object in the universe. Not a prop, but one of (if not the) greatest characters on the show.

I'm so sorry. Baby deserved better. I mean first of all, you're telling me Dean just left her to sit in a garage for a year while he messed around in a station wagon? Who are you and what have you done with Dean Winchester.

And then the Mustang. That made me sick. I couldn't even look at it, it was just horrifying. And then Balthazar played it off like it didn't matter!!! That's the most important object in the universe jerk!!! Pay her some respect!!!

And she got wrecked at the end! That car has been through so much, and she does not need to be crashed into every position possible. She deserves better. Every time something bad happens to that car I die a little inside.

Well, enough about Baby (there will never be enough about Baby). The next season is supposedly about Leviathans, which could get very interesting. I could be wrong, but I also think maybe we meet Charlie next season? Well anyway, this one is usually considered as sort of the "forgotten season" (like Adam), so we'll see how it goes. I'll get started within the next couple of days. Carry on!

[throwaway-yandere]

I can't hAHAHHAAH

I just woke up (hey this time i woke up at 8am hA) and reading these tags got me LAUGHING. WHY DID YOU STAY AWAKE. GO BACK TO SLEEP. DO YOU WANT TO WAKE UP AT 10:10??? DO YOU WANT TO PASS OUT IN A BACK ALLEY??? 😤😤😤 /j

HDJAISISJWKW OKAY OKAY I'LL BE "OUT OF CHARACTER" AND ANSWER THIS, AS FOR THE PEOPLE WHO TALKED TO YOU IN THE PORTAL:

The one speaking "normally" is Silver Wolf. She's the person narrating the entire fic, hence you'd find snarky comments like "you're so stupid" or "I wasn't keeping track" lmao. She's also the same person who put up the announcement that someone will die at 10:10, when you reread I swear to you it's there lmfao. Best girl. She did nothing wrong. It ain't even vandalism, what she put up was a respectable announcement (๑•̀д•́๑)!!! False announcement... B... But...

The one speaking in italics is my main, my beloved Blade. The one speaking in bold is Kafka, aka mom–

Sam isn't "present" during this mission (I leave it up to interpretation if Sampo is an emanator of Elation here or a Stellaron Hunter. I play both sides so I never lose–).

BUT, there's someone else:

Everytime there's large " " or spaces, that's

E l i o 's name.

Very rarely, he'll speak with his words underlined. Most of the time, the things he wanted to say are already spoken by the other Stellaron Hunters.

Ya know those questions with quotation marks? That's Elio's script. Hehe.

AND THANK YOU!!! thank you so much for reading the fic! And yes! My pillows were especially cold last night lmfao. "Gepard" and Gepard loves/loved you too <33

What HaPpEneD aT 10:10? (Yandere!"Gepard Landau"/Reader)

Scriptwriter's Note: I implore you to remember what happened at 10:10. And once you do, come talk to three of my associates. For now, let her help you recall what's going on in the present time. You can remember the time, but we need you to remember the murder weapon, who killed who, and the motive.

Synopsis: Trapped in Serval Landau’s basement for so long, you made a deal with the Sampo to escape confinement. As it turns out, your timing is never impeccable. Aka: a Belobog "murder" mystery. (A/n: ansy here, have fun trying to guess what happened! But please. PLEASE do not read this if you're sensitive to the topics below ⬇)

CW: Yandere and horror themes, "most unreliable narrator AND reader ever" - sam, violence, amputation, mentions of domestic (physical) abuse. His smile is stiff as a board. There’s a portal at the end of the story, your choices matter (there are 2 possible endings). Welcome to the Back Alley.

A murder was announced to occur on Saturday, October 2, at the Golden Theater’s back alley, around 10:10 AM.

It was an unidentified note. Short and crudely pasted cutouts from old magazines were its contents. Many believe the Astral Express put it together as a twisted joke. It’s no coincidence that the clocks' little hands near the theater were also forever stuck at 10:10. No one took it seriously. Additionally, a nearby bookshop used this opportunity to "hype" its mystery books by joining the bandwagon. While the Silvermane Guards officially took the "threat" as if it didn't exist, others transformed it into an event by creating crime scene props with March 7th and Stelle serving as the main judges.  

Who'd even investigate such a note when the Golden Theater doesn’t have a back alley?

By 5:00 AM, that silly note was not at the forefront of the Silvermane Guards' minds.

It was you.

Sampo shakily exhaled a quick "heya, friend," as his legs continued to speed past the Silvermane Guards, who were all very much ready to fire. The merchanr was forced to inhale sharply and slightly elevate his voice as he worriedly fixed his attention on his 'package.' 

"Y-You're good, aren't you?" 

Inside the shopping cart (who knows where he got that) he had been pushing was a wanted person. A bit feverish, you nodded without much commitment. Even the slightest movements relieved the dubious merchant as he picked up the pace, avoiding the stray "warning" shots that were fired near.

Today, you didn't awaken in the house where you were held captive. There were no mechanical noises or loud drilling. However, your morning did begin with your flesh awkwardly molding against the metal grid patterns of the shopping cart. There was no complaining when you realized it was your old friend Sampo who had carried and set you down. You didn't even consider asking this man where he was taking you.

Days earlier, he had paid you a covert visit and explained his strategy. So you concluded that he was the one who made the "false" murder announcement public. He also implied that little Hook made the note. Your gut tells you that even while it makes sense to assume that she is the author of that absurd announcement, it doesn't seem to be the truth. But at that point, your fears of being tubed with immoral equipment vanished and you felt gratitude rather than alarm. Not that you'd ever figure out that I made it, anyways.

"S-Sampo…" You groaned, not moving from your position as your friend fished out his homemade bombs from his pocket. "W-Where are you taking me…?"

Anywhere is better than her basement.

"To Nat, of course!" You needn't tilt your head to know that he was smiling wide. "Is there any other doctor more reliable than Miss Natasha?"

You'd insensitively joke about Vache Harrower, but your strength betrays you. Not like he'd give you a chance to drop some smart-alecks when he timed his bombs right. 

Just a few short seconds after, your best friend rolled his smoke bombs on the floor and made a larger dash. You heard a tremendous boom from the back, and a silent malicious voice in your skull hoped for injuries.

They worked with her.

Jolting you up, Sampo made one swift left turn and another to the right, making sure that the last remaining guards that trailed you both were lost in the haze. He didn't stop running, but you can tell he's getting tired. Sampo is a merchant, not the sister of the ex-Captain of the Silvermane Guards.

Your nose scrunched.

Serval Landau… that paranoid woman and lousier liar…

The oldest Landau used to be your best friend along with Pela. She had treated you as though you were Gepard's twin at times, much to your discomfort. Even her parents referred to you as their kin. 

Since you had no one to care for you as a child, the Landaus happily raised you. Had you not rejected their offers for adoption, your life certainly wouldn't be where it is now. 

Back "home", Serval would make suggestions that you were more of a Landau than she’d ever be. In turn, you’d cock your head and look unamused. Then act more like one, you’d reply. Yet these forceful encouragements do not reach her.

Even when you beg her to let you out of the house, she won’t let you.

We’ve been over this before, she’d reply. I can’t let you out on your own. You’re missing your right leg, what if that man finds you? 

You’ve never understood that logic. Who was she referring to, your old boss?

Her brother died a year ago.

You once liked him. You'd even go out of your way to say he was worthy of anyone's trust. 

Was. That was before you knew that deep in the recesses of his mind that loyalty was the beginning and end of Captain Gepard Landau's character. Uniting men under his leadership, he sought only the best for his beloved Belobog.

Your mind drives memories of Gepard away and you can no longer remember what transpired to cause this. After all, you undoubtedly considered Serval and Lynx to be sisters, but you never thought of him as a brother. You can't exactly pinpoint why you treated him like that since the very beginning.

Based on your shattered memories, you were stripped away of your position as his aide. Serval claimed it was because you didn't harbor traits of self-preservation. She made a show of how unreliable you were on the field, that you were hysterical and a "liability." Their relentless critique went on for half an hour until the higher-ups had given in to her demands. 

Worse, they permitted her to surveil your movements 24/7. Using your amputated leg as an excuse, she effectively put you on house arrest– not your home, but hers. She's not an effective caretaker either, despite her attempts. Serval's use of transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation is far more brutal than what a normal practitioner would do, but no one can hear your complaints except for Molly. Her tests are never comfortable. And you loathe this.

She acted like your loss of a leg turned you into damaged goods that only the siblings can see value in. That her giving you a prosthetic was a sign of love rather than a shackle.

They said you were “hysterical”, and that you should be forgiven for whatever sin you’ve committed.

Insulting.

Insulting. Insulting. Insulting.

"H-How closer are we to the underground?" You gripped the cart, your heart racing at the speed.

Sampo coughed after accidentally inhaling his smoke.

“S-Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t change the direction of the cart–”

“What?!”

“The cart won’t turn!!!” Sampo screamed.

With each passing second, the gap between the cart and the theater narrowed. Your heart raced as this was your first experience of real danger after being sheltered for a year or so. Even though you were aware that Sampo had no control over the impending crash, you still glanced at him expectantly.

He smiled, drop-dead nervous and boyishly sheepish.

"Give me two minutes!!!"

"Give me two minutes, Captain!!! We still need a few more."

You beamed, holding your axe to chop wood for your comrades in the Outlying Snow Plains. 

At first, you weren't trusted with heavy weapons. Luckily, being "weak" is a curable ailment for everyone. And the cure is called hard work and extreme effort. That, and an axe. 

You were the very definition of a model soldier and he found himself incredibly lucky to finally see you join the Silvermane Guards. You had an excellent posture; you were a sharpshooter and a wonderful axeman– even your breathing looks rehearsed.

And for a damn good reason.

When the Height's economy sneezes, the underground catches a cold.

Unfortunately, that means children as young as you were had to bear the flames.

The Landau parents had taken a shine to you after taking you as a servant from the orphanage. Your captain's father adored you, even though his never-smiling voice had not once indicated his affection. Captain Gepard bears resemblances from his old man in appearance but not his military demeanor; you were the one to hold that torch. 

It was through Mr. Landau you learned how much metrics and timings make a difference between an animal and a human being. You grew from someone who skitters away dynamically like a gas particle to a person grounded with instructions on how each step in a stride must be measured to perfection. Growing up with the Landaus was by no means a happy life, but it made you more keen on what constitutes "proper living." 

To you, being hit by vases and chairs for failing to fold Mr. Landau's clothes in exactly the way he wants them to be was preferable to dying in the streets with your grandmother with nothing to fill your stomach other than the restaurant trash cans nearby. And you were certain you brought more pride and joy to Mr. and Mrs. Landau than you had to your parents who had abandoned you since birth. 

People see Mr. Landau when they look at you and not Gepard.

But that's only because they have never seen the way you behave when it's only you and the Landau siblings are together.

“Working hard, I see,” Gerard said in a light joking manner.

You scratched your neck, embarrassed.

“Nah, I’m actually very lazy.”

“Don’t be so self-effacing,” Gepard smiled kindly. “I don’t miss anything. I’ve heard that you’ve made your rounds and even took on some of Pela’s duties while she’s on leave.”

“Eh, we both know I wouldn’t have done it without Pela begging me to do it for her Tales of– nevermind, Captain.”

Gepard had always viewed your abilities with the greatest reverence and approval. Serval was always quick to emphasize how her "favorite non-blood related sibling" is an "uninhibited performer" before everyone else, so Gepard thought this true in every aspect. You must think of this as writing a song to keep your mind sharp. You lose any sense of reservation once in “the zone”, and if Serval fell for the way your brows furrowed when penning down tunes and lyrics, Gepard faltered when he saw the glint in your eye as you pieced all the information needed to catch Sampo Koski’s whereabouts after your promotion. 

He had never told you this, but Gepard always felt weird sensations pooling in his chest whenever he saw you hyper-focused on something.

Or someone.

“Do you think I can catch him, Geppie?”

Gepard ruffled your hair and your face brightened up.

"Never falter, (Y/n),” he said firmly. “For I wholeheartedly believe in your strengths. Catching Sampo Koski will be a walk in the park for someone like you."

To think that your first caught infamous criminal is your last true friend… Destiny surely toys with those who say “That’ll never happen.” It's always a fun phenomenon to write a script about.

“Walk in a park”? Try “crash in a theater”.

“SAMPO!!!”

You yelped, clawing his shirt and yanking his upper body like a wild animal. His heels screeched as the cart faced the direction of the Golden Theater.

And what nestled near the Golden Theater was its Back Alley, a place that exists on the border between reality and myth. Whispers among children weave tales that those who enter the depths are trapped in a journey of confronting their unresolved trauma and guilt. It is believed that the alley acts as another dimension where the lost must face their inner demons before emerging back into the real world, scarred forever by the distorted horrors they have confronted.

And for the first time in your life, you saw it.

You saw a fence that was never there before.

Your heart dropped.

“SAMPO!!!”

He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact alongside you.

Sampo Koski lived by a particular quote: "True happiness always entails the manifestation of the dignity of mankind,”

And only a few knew that it's only 1/3 of the full quote. The next part includes: “and true guilt is the catalyst for self-reflection and the pursuit of redemption–" 

Flickering street lights and unmoving 10:10 clocks cast eerie shadows of dawn. It’s said that the people who traverse its trails encounter manifestations of their inner turmoil, a reflection of their deepest regrets. Some emerge transformed, carrying newfound clarity, while others head on a downward spiral. 

He wondered which one you would be.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n).”

Sampo smirked…

And let go of the cart.

“But the Back Alley is waiting for you.”

His hands, calloused but clean, tenderly held yours. You felt ice even without a metal ring wrapped around his finger. At that thought, you blinked.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Yes, dear?"

"You don't have a ring on you," you said with an unreadable expression. "Will we ever have a chance at getting married?"

You thought it was funny; he didn't.

We.

What did you mean by “we”?

Him and you?

Or you and someone else?

Surely you and him, right?

But is that really an idea that he needs to know?

The Supreme Guardian was right.

Doubt breeds arrogance.

“W-Well–” Gepard’s breath hitched, awkwardly fumbling his cuffs. “I don’t know about that.”

You muttered. “So the future's uncertain.” 

“Of course.”

“Hmm.”

He gulped, realizing that you were mad at his response.

But he can’t let any of this continue any longer.

“(Y/n), I have something I’d like to tell you…”

“Nghh….”

You heard the shopping cart roll towards a wall– must be the same one you crashed onto. As you caught a glimpse of your surroundings, you were astounded to see how foggy it was. The wall-mounted advertisement for a love-matching service is hardly visible. It was impossible to see past the surrounding streetlight, even with "un-smoke bombed" eyes. 

Doesn’t look like you’re in the administrative district.

You cannot see a single familiar building from this fog.

No heaters in sight and your breath practically singed your throat. The fog prickled your skin, but for reasons unknown, you did not shudder as a feverish man would’ve. Strangely enough, you felt fine.

You tried squinting at the road again.

Your heart dropped.

... There was no road.

You can't tell if it's the snow and the fog– but there's no pavement towards the exit in sight. It's as if wherever you stood floated. It was a literal dead end. As you peaked into the cliff, you did not see the bottom.

There was nothing there.

Even if you tried jumping, you weren't sure if there would be anything to fall on.

Capable arms wrapped themselves around your form. They were far stronger than your eyelids, which would barely open. Semi-automatically, your hand reached for this person’s shoulder, attempting to reposition yourself from their hold. You can barely make out their face, but their hair was slightly darker. This stranger lacked the envy-inspiring golden allure that the Landaus have.

Not processing that information fast enough, you spoke.

“S-Sampo, wh-what happened–”

You went pale.

No.

No.

No.

You pushed this "man" aside and dropped to the ground, barely maintaining balance on your one remaining leg. The man has now grown to be a towering figure over you, his star-bright eyes peering at you, paranoid. The air felt heavy, laden with a palpable sense of the unknown. Only the sound of your lonesome "real" foot scurrying away broke the silence.

“A-Are you alright?! W-What’s wrong....? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The man sauntered closer. His light but lifeless eyes locked onto yours, piercing through your soul. He had dirty blonde hair and he wore a sweater similar to the one that you never got to give to your best friend's younger brother, but–

“G-Gepard…?!?!”

The man tilted his head.

You squinted, hoping to find solace in a detail you might’ve missed or so. 

Finally, your shoulders slackened, exhaling a large white cloud.

“No… You’re… not.”

He sent you a fleeting look of pity before making an awkward joke.

“Do I look similar to a past lover?”

His smile is stiff as a board.

“No— my— my deceased… boss…” You spoke bitterly.

This person, who looked eerily similar to the dead Gepard Landau, stared with red-rimmed eyes. Did he cry earlier? With nothing else to focus on except for the thick fog, you remain frozen in place.

“This is…”

Terrifying, you wanted to say but that would be offensive.

“Impressive…” You gawked, slowly forgetting the vulnerable position you left yourself in. Sharply, you drew a breath. “You look like you could be a Landau.”

Your hand reached to touch his cheek, and the stranger leaned into your touch. Far too engrossed by this encounter, you did not care for his slightly hollow eyes and more than elated expression. It was the bigger picture that you saw.

It was the near-perfect image of the deceased Gepard Landau.

His skin was pinkish and his heart raced.

“Your hand is warm…” He commented softly, face red.

“Your face, your voice— it’s just your hair and your sense of fashion that’s different, and—”

“My name is Gerard,” his smile remains stiff as a board, but there's a touch of friendliness to it. “I don’t believe I appear anywhere near ghostlike.”

You’re inclined to believe that he’s lying.

No one can look THIS similar to Gepard.

And that name as well.

You don’t know what to think.

As you were about to retract your hand, he held it back in place, guiding it closer to his lips. He breathed in. His breath marked the fog. “Gerard” inched closer, stepping his foot near your prosthetic right leg. With little distance between you two, your temperature has progressively grown hotter. It’s uncomfortable watching you both like this. I should’ve closed my eyes.

“See?” He mumbled.

“Can you sense how warm I am?”

“So you’re not Gepard… Or a ghost, I guess.”

You laughed to yourself. You’re not sure about your statement, either.

But while this man may appear friendly, his eyes were a haunting reminder that some things can never truly be left behind.

“As I have stated before, my name is Gerard.”

Even his name sounds like his.

“I-I’m sorry, I was dazed,” You pinched your temple. Without his warmth, the cold bit your cheeks which made you turn around. “T-Thank you for carrying me out of that shopping cart, Gep– Gerard.”

You looked around again. Nothing to see but fog. Far from surprising.

“Gerard, where are we?”

The dirty blonde man laughed. 

“The Theater’s Back Alley.”

“The Back Alley?” You scoffed quietly, contemplating on how Gepard insisted to you before that it never existed– and now his promiscuous doppelganger is arguing otherwise. “There aren’t any back alleys around the theater.”

This place doesn’t look like an alley. 

It’s far too large for it to fit the description. This must be an abandoned town. Unbeknownst to both of you, way before your time, this place was called Chernobog.

“Yes there is,” Gerard hummed. “It’s where we are now.”

“Then can you carry– lead me back to the main district?” You decided to humor him. “I’m not supposed to be wherever this place is.”

“I wouldn’t allow it.”

“Why not?”

Gerard grinned. His radiant smile baffled you as his demeanor changed from slightly teasing to tender from just the crinkles of his eyes. 

“Because I love you, of course. I can't just let you leave.”

You froze.

Why? Why does he speak as if it ever so slightly comes from the diaphragm as he did? 

Why does his voice sound so much like Gepard’s?

You thought it was wrong.

Gepard would never say those words.

Not to you. Never.

As Gerard’s casual confession hung amidst the fog, a peculiar heaviness settled on your heart. It wasn't the words themselves that caused this unease but rather the haunting resemblance his voice had to Gepard’s. His voice was rich with authenticity, free of malice, and his confession was short but somehow sweet.

But you didn’t want to hear that from him.

You averted your gaze. A flood of memories had suddenly surfaced at that precise moment, including the hearty sound of Gepard's laughter. It appeared as though the dead had come back to play a cruel game. Unable to bear his comfortable “joke”, you recoiled and feigned deafness, face veiled behind an indifferent mask. Perhaps the Aeon of Preservation may have advocated for this. In a sense, perhaps denial meant safety. Silently, you begged for your thoughts to stop, for the resemblance to dissipate, and for the ache of grief to be buried again.

“Back on the topic at hand, if you wish to exit the Back Alley: I don’t wish to help you,” he smiled.

His smile is always stiff as a board.

“Why not stay here? Are you not a wanted person?”

You glared.

“How did you know that?”

“Murder, right?” Gerard drawled, his eyes softening in what you call disgusting pity. “Someone important. Someone that made you stuck here.” 

“Stop making accusations,” you spat, offended by his left-field slander.

“I’m not,” Gerard said. “I know who you killed. How about you? Do you remember who it was?”

Silence.

“But that doesn’t matter now,” he announced firmly. “Why don’t you come with me? Let me shield you from the monsters.”

You froze.

“Mon… sters?”

“Yes, monsters.”

Unexpectedly, a far-off wail of sirens and static radio pierced the air, disorienting. There was nothing to be seen when you lifted your chin to strain your ears in search of the source. Gerard's urgent voice broke through your daze.

"Run." 

With a swift and practiced motion, he swept you off your feet, cradling you in his arms back to the position you woke up in. He knew your current prosthetics were not meant for running. A prosthetic limb is like a new fingerprint and Serval would never make your new identity one similar to escapists. At the moment, you had a prosthetic leg for everyday use, and not blades for running.

As Gerard hurriedly carried you through the dense fog, you felt no sense of security as you had before. Something lurked just beyond your line of sight. In an act of spur-of-the-moment bravery, you stole a glance over Gerard's shoulder, and thus, you were paralyzed.

What emerged from the depths of the fog were grotesque “figures”. 

Their bodies were mutilated, with their arms hanging loosely at their sides. They reared their heads, twisting and contorting. It was humanoid in stature, blanched and nearly armless. If it were not for some tissues, you were certain they wouldn’t have arms to begin with. Their flesh seemed boiled together like patchworks of human remains. They started to inch closer, their movements disjointed.

Fear coursed through your veins as you realized their intentions were set upon you and Gerard. But his voice cut through, his words not faltering.

"Hold on tight," he said steadily.

“Whatever you do, don’t let them get to you, (Y/n),” Gerard whispered. 

“Please, do it for me.”

For the duration of “dawn”, Gerard carried you to safe locations. You have not met a single human person throughout the day. This was a concerning observation after knowing how large the “alley” was. He knew the area like the back of his hand and successfully guided you to hospitals (which, unfortunately, had more of those monsters from before) to patch some minor wounds from Sampo's “shopping cart trip” mishaps. 

Before you could walk to the hospital bed, he grabbed your wrist in a tight hold.

“Shhh…” Gerard tugged your arm. “You don’t need to walk. Please, permit me to carry you.”

Despite your whispered protests, he rarely let you move around. Which made sense since your staggering did alert them of your location.

But you don’t like the way he touches you.

Those Gepard-like eyes lingered on you as if he were trying to memorize every inch of your skin. His actions were marked by an unwavering vigilance, always on guard for the slightest sign of danger even when you encouraged him to relax a bit. It was as if he was driven by an unspoken longing or unresolved past experiences. And you've only just met.

This time he made sure to turn off his radio. Suspiciously enough, "Gerard" carried a Silvermane Guard issued radio but it only seemed to make sounds whenever danger lurks by.

You tried not to think about that. Save for the dusty bed and wispy drapes, the posters strewn across the hospital walls caught your attention. The wall didn't have anything else notable other than those prints. They must be the same ones you saw on the streets, yellowed with age. The prints ranged from love hotlines, anger management tips, and a wanted poster.

Your poster.

Unlike the previous ones, this one was preserved thoughtfully, plastered right at the center amongst all the prints. Intriguingly, floral stickers were peppered around your images. Not the childish ones you'd buy for a cheap price, but more refined illustrations. You're not too versed in the language of flowers, but they did look like blue roses and marigolds. If only you could recall what Gepard said about what those flowers meant...

For now, you hazarded an astute guess as to why it was cleaner than the rest, staring unamused at Gerard. He sheepishly smiled, face flushed as he tried not to notice your glare. Gerard seemed proud of his handiwork.

It was nearly cute.

If it weren't for the fact you seriously don't know who he is.

“Gepard—”

“Gerard,” he corrected you in a commanding yet soft tone, ironically similar to your old Captain.

“You don’t have to patch my wounds.”

“Just let me,” he pressed on, wrapping your scrapped arm with gauze. “This was part of my combat lifesaver course.”

You shifted from the bed.

“You’re a soldier?”

…

He didn’t answer.

You tilted your head.

“Are you sure you’re not a Landau–”

“Affirmative.”

He could’ve twisted the gauze tight enough to make you wince in pain, but he delicately wrapped it and added immense pressure not to your wounds, but in his gaze.

“I am not your “Geppie” and I am not your old employer.”

With a voice that commands resolute clarity from you, you doubt he’s telling the truth. 

You paused.

“How?”

“How what?” He muttered.

“How did you know that nickname?”

You gulped.

“How much do you know about me?”

You were on high alert the moment he called you by your name when those monsters chased earlier– you have never introduced yourself. Couple that with the fact that he was to accuse you of murder, you didn’t know what he thought of you. 

This time, he didn’t smile.

“Enough to know that I love you.”

“You say that like it makes any sense!” You snapped.

“I know everything because you wanted me to love you, and I do love you too. I am not a shield for the people like him. I don't have the burden to protect anyone else, doesn’t that make me a better man for you now? There's no need to make sure the Silvermane Guards are always at the ready. I don't have to worry about pride- about being a Landau.”

He delicately reached out, guiding your hand to rest against his cheek. His softened features conveyed a love for your "warmth", but the pool in your stomach made this experience unbearable.

“My life is reserved for only you. That is my oath.”

You ripped your arm away from him with disgusted eyes.

“Just tell me the truth already!!!”

He looked down, frowning.

“You don’t need the truth...” 

Gerard's eyes glistened with a bittersweet melancholy as he watched you, a faint smile tugging his lips. He had a look that says he knew all too well that you are unaware of the depths he was willing to go to protect you. The dirty blonde man reached out, his hand instinctively yearning to rest upon your shoulder, but he withdrew it quickly, his fingers curling inward.

“That’s why you’re here. In this foggy back alley.”

He scooted beside you. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to comfort you enough, you knew he spoke the truth when his voice cracked in a small whisper of: "I’m with you."

Gerard grabbed your hand again and softly kissed your fingertips.

No one could miss his sharp gaze. The man has deluded himself that you were his to protect at all costs. A nature that stemmed from a deep-seated desire to control something that he couldn't acceptably justify. A pure obsession that defied reason at its finest.

You know that look all too well.

But you can’t put a finger as to where you’ve seen it. What a shame.

You looked at your hands.

... Strange.

Since when were you wearing a golden ring?

Your eyes intuitively gazed at Gerard's hands.

All of the sudden, your throat dried.

You're both wearing wedding rings.

“You don’t have to be alone again,” he mumbled. “We can live here. You could plant and look after flowers with me– though I’ve never been good at it. It’d be a quiet life, just as you’ve always wanted.”

“If that’s what you’re offering then you’re no different than Serval,” you laughed to yourself. 

His eyes darkened.

Before you could comment on it, he cut you off with another considerate smile.

“You must be hungry. There’s a cafeteria downstairs, I’ll procure some rye bread.”

“(Y/n), babe, where are you?”

You looked up. An alarmed woman’s voice called out.  

“... Serval?”

No reply.

The voice seemed to be coming from the door.

“Serval, are you there?”

“(Y/n), i-it’s okay! C-Calm down, calm down,” the voice continued. “Things just happen. I’ll help you okay? Shhh, d-don’t cry, don’t cry, I'm here…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I won’t let it happen. They don’t even have to know you were here. P-Pass the mop now, shhh…”

It made a sound far too damaged to be called a soothing chuckle.

“What are you on about?–”

The broken voice began to sing, sounding as though she had been clinging onto a husk of someone who’s been too far gone. 

“C-Calm your nerves, my p-precious friend,

For "tomorrow"'s problems will never end.

In this short song, I s-softly sing,

You're cherished, my dear, in e-everything.”

You reached for the bed railing and supported yourself upright. Prepping your leg for a short walk, you placed your foot down–

THUD.

The door swung open, making you jump slightly.

Gerard came back, his breath nearly stripped away as he sauntered over. His only saving grace was his stamina, but otherwise fear would've dragged him down. There was not a single piece of bread in his hand. I’m glad he came, you would’ve been out of the alley immediately otherwise. And that's not good for us.

The voice was gone.

The sounds from afar now ring more of an animal than a human. 

"(Y-Y/n)," he called out. "We need to leave."

You tilted your head, about to question what was wrong but you were cut off by his abrupt scream.

"NOW!!!"

He took you by the waist, carrying you in a way there was regard for your amputation but fast enough to make you feel unease. You gasped as Gerard's hold on you tightened, sprinting out of the "safe location."

"W-What's going on–"

"They're close," he whispered. "They're coming. It knows we’re here."

With one free hand, he pushed down passing cabinets as he bolted. Nothing was on his mind other than to flee with you. You didn't dare look at what was behind. You didn't want to face the truth.

"Gerar–"

Despite your desire not to see these creatures, a lone monster stands at the end of the hall.

It loomed before you, a grotesque fusion of flesh intricately molded together like human flesh sewn tight to a Silvermane Guard uniform, its form twisted and contorted while multiple unnerving eyes peered from its misshapen visage. Although it may have eyes more than you have fingers, you have a sneaking suspicion that they are completely inoperative. Its skin bore an unsettling array of intricate carvings, etched like cryptic scars across its entire body.

Something about its appearance resonated with you.

It slugged closer, staring. As to “where”, you can't tell. Each inch of its body had slits for eyes enough to instill paranoia. At least one pair must've been staring at you. Yet, most of it was on him.

Gerard.

"Tch..." His eyebrows furrowed, troubled.

He ran towards the end of the hall and miraculously swerved to avoid its axe. His pace quickened. 

"(Y/n), whatever you do, don't think about why these creatures exist. Even when I'm gone."

“What do you mean?”

“Just don’t. That’s an order.” He said, sounding more of a plea than a warning.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly as you struggled to keep up with Gerard's swift pace.

As he ran, questions burned in your mind, desperate for answers. His words echoed in your head, but your curiosity had implicit demand for a shred of understanding. You couldn't help but glance back, catching a glimpse of the creature still in pursuit. It persisted in its relentless pursuit of you, unwavering in its resolve.

"F-Faster!" you gasped between labored breaths. “It’s closing in on us!”

Gerard's expression remained stoic, his eyes focused on the path ahead.

He ran towards a door and pushed it open with a kick. You both stumbled through the threshold, entering what appeared to be the cafeteria, but the sterile scent mingling with the food made that guess somewhat unconvincing.

Gerard quickly assessed the room, searching for any signs of danger. The sound of distant alarms and muffled screams echoed through the corridors.

“Just what the hell is that?!” The words escaped you unintentionally in a mortified whisper.

Gerard cupped your mouth.

You both forgot to close the door.

What a horrible mistake.

The unsettling monster began its search. It emanated shrill sounds that pierced through your ears, making you almost move to cover them. The cries reached a hauntingly high-pitched cry that echoed like metal against metal. The mournful wails never resembled wolfish growls but rather heartbroken cries. Its speech resembles the guttural syllables "I" and "U" in an auditory expression of grief.

It turned around, but it also had eyes on its back.

Cowering in terror, you huddled close to Gerard behind the counter of the desolate cafeteria, seeking refuge from the approaching monster. 

As the creature drew nearer, its grotesque eyes fixated on you and Gerard, its elongated limbs reaching out with chilling anticipation. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you heard Gerard’s breath hitch as you both clung to the faint hope of survival.

But to your horror, as the monster approached head-on.

Its rotting flesh bypassed you, swerving past your trembling form, and seized Gerard instead. 

“(Y/N)!!! RUN!!”

Gerard pointed at the nearby mop.

He wants you to leave him.

A gasp of terror escaped your lips as you watched in disbelief.

His blue eyes widened, mirroring your panic but worse, as the monster's grasp tightened around him. Gerard yelped, his voice trembling as his fear of death loomed. Its grip was not merciful. 

It smacked Gerard against a desk.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Blood streamed in his scalp.

The monster took his arm.

And ripped it apart.

And soon.

Nothing.

Thud.

You went as silent as the corpse as you watched it extinguish his life in a quiet finality.

Tears streamed down your face, unable to look away. Maybe it's a trick of the mind, but you were starting to feel a pain from where your leg was removed. Your brain was still convinced that you still had it- and that it is in danger. You feel as if your ankle was angled downwards, hiding from the monster. Such sensations made your skin crawl, especially considering the circumstances. It was not the best time to experience phantom limb pain.

The monster briefly met your gaze as if to mock your survival. It limped away, leaving behind you with nothing but a corpse.

Hours felt like mere minutes before you were snapped out of your prolonged emptiness. Gerard remains on the floor, dead-eyed and bloody. Thankfully, your current PLP was manageable at best but the throbbing sensation distracted you for a while. Your mind was blocking out the blood on his face. It did not process how mutilated it had become, nor did it care to acknowledge his arm that lay on the checkered floor.

His cheeks looked warm, alive.

You fixed his hair.

“Gep– Gerard…”

…

…

You need to leave.

YOU NEED TO LEAVE.

Since that incident, you've been by yourself in the Back Alley, even though you sense that there may be other lost "people" like you nearby, you chose to act alone despite this.

There's no need for another Gerard.

You followed the walls every time you had the nerve to step outside, cursing Serval occasionally for failing to provide you with a prosthetic running leg. That, and her garbage methods she calls "physical therapy."

You have overstayed your welcome despite not knowing how long you have been in this dense fog. Oddly, you've never experienced hunger in your time here. You are unable to move around freely, and worse, you are unable to scream for help, unless you want the people who are still present in the dense fog to find you. 

You don’t have time to grieve for a man you barely knew.

You sighted a police station. Much like every building in this surprisingly large “alley”, it had been abandoned. It looked like the one you worked for, down to the paint job and the door frame. Funnily enough, the door was open, and thus, it was temporarily yours.

What greeted you first upon entering was a creature similar to the monsters you’ve crawled away from– but it did not move.

The still creature lay on the floor, staring at its hand. Its bottom half was similar to a mermaid's. You did not see two legs. When you approached, there was no reaction. You can only presume it was dead. Or that it never had a life to begin with.

You heard radio static as soon as you tried approaching it. But you don't recall ever having a radio in your possession.

“You poor thing…” You found yourself uncharacteristically sympathizing with a monster. The fatigue was eminent in your voice. “What happened?”

You're so stupid. Don't you think that "corpse" looks familiar?

You looked at its other hand and saw it holding an axe.

You took it.

As you brandished the weapon, its Silvermane engravings became more apparent. This was a soldier’s model, one you used back when you were an intelligence officer. Perhaps it will come in handy later.

“I’ve never heard of this station before, then again, I doubt many knew there’s a back alley in the first place,” you scoffed. “But, hmm…”

You turned your head to face the monster once more. You don’t know why you feel oddly calm facing the monster this boldly. With the axe acting as your new makeshift cane, you pushed it down. Nothing happened.

You got back up and took a look around.

For a police station, there were tons of love-related posters hanging around with half of them viciously vandalized. Some of them made you laugh as you read them. The handwriting seemed to belong to someone, but you can't recall whose.

LOVE ISN’T REAL.

I DON’T NEED A MATCH. I JUST WANT ██████.

“Pathetic,” your emotional equivalent of a snort was a slight huff. “And you’re all supposed to be Silvermane Guards? Guess this place was deserted for a reason.”

You hate how you sounded exactly like Mr. Landau just now. Out of all the children in the Landau household, you had it the worst with Md. Landau. Hearing yourself mutter something he would say... you're not sure how you feel about that.

Scoffing, you walked past the corpse and onto the break room. 

Missing just a few posters in your way.

IF I CAN’T HAVE ███, 

THEN I’LL JUST REMOVE ███ LIMBS.

Hours passed. You haven’t found the exit.

You heard Serval’s voice again. She was apologizing to you. Then, silence.

Nothing happened on what you presumed to be the “next day.” You cried to yourself until you saw the same monster who killed Gerard. It was ready to give chase until suddenly, it stopped when you were incredibly focused on escaping.

You tried thinking about why it did what it did. But it left more questions than answers.

Tore down a couple of posters. They were starting to get to you.

You think there is no exit. You made a quick mention about how Gerard probably knew where it is to yourself, but the same monster must've heard you. You felt eyes watching you and it made it's appearance by narrow alleys. You bolted.

You found another human. But he was long dead. You wondered if he was the same person children loved to talk about. The anxious man who lingered at the gates of the Back Alley. If I remember correctly, Stelle encountered this man before. Wonder what she thought of him at the time.

You heard the radio static again when you approached him. You decided to ignore him for now.

You mopped the man's dried blood. Who knew the mop Gerard pointed at in his last moments had it's use.

He looked stiff as a board. He was reeking, but at least he had a smile on his face.

You obtained a key after cleaning up the puddle.

“Was there ever an exit?”

Nothing happened in this timeframe. But you think you have an idea as to why these creatures exist.

Specifically, why they exist because of you.

How long have you been here? Sorry, I wasn’t keeping track.

You also weren't sure how long you'd been searching the town. Quite frankly, I was getting bored of watching. You tried to play this off like a maze game, constantly following the walls to your right as though it would magically lead you to the exit. Did you know that Lady Luck is not particularly lenient when bestowing favors? Your life here is slowly becoming more stale and your constantly improving ability to strategize your routes to avoid monsters has been making your adventure more of a chore to follow.  

It's admirable that you were so tenacious in clinging to life in such a dangerous environment with a single leg, but it was extremely frustrating that you couldn't see this alley for what it was.

As if to cure such boredom, you entered another abandoned building. Turns out, the key you pried off a dead man's corpse fits perfectly. It was a psychiatric clinic owned by one Dr. Kauffman, a licensed therapist who received teachings from Dr. Kang Tu via the Astral Express. I never cared about those people. They're just cashing in on the occult, the easily "hooked", and the disturbed. You harbor at least 2/3 of those qualities. Congrats.

The walls are more notably filled with the same set of posters you've seen scattered around time. This time, you weren't feral enough to tear the posters down. However, you didn't grasp the meaning behind them either. You refused to look deeper, even when you don't recall what would stare back at you. 

Mindlessly, you staggered inside a room. There were no professionals inside as far as you could tell without any of the lights on, just a cold sofa. You walked slowly and sat down. 

As soon as you comfortably secured a position to take a rest, you realized you weren't alone.

Star-bright eyes followed your movements as soon as you entered the room.

“Gepard?”

You blinked.

“Oh. Gerard, it’s you. I thought you were–” You paused as Gerard shook his head, eyebrows furrowed with a smile that repressed his frustration. “Sorry.”

“Anyway, I’m… confused. How are you alive?” You asked. “Your arm– it’s back. What’s going on?”

Desensitized, you no longer knew what to think.

You're being strangely calm, don't you think?

But one thing was for certain: this “man” is not supposed to be standing.

Gerard pursed his lips.

“Anyway?” He mimicked you bitterly.

“What do you mean “ANYWAY”?!?”

You flinched as he took steps forward.

“You didn’t even care about me, didn’t you?!? It’s Gepard this, Gepard that– Gepard is DEAD!!!” 

Gerard screamed at your face, gripping your shoulders tightly.

“Why… Why is it always him first? When I am everything he couldn't be?” 

Gerard chuckled lowly.

“I-I was so afraid. I was so afraid that I won’t be able to see you again– that I’d disappoint you– but no, it’s always Gepard first. Why can’t you be obsessed with me in the way you were so– so…”

He cried. Hot tears ran down his cheeks as his shoulders deflated. Gerard cast his gaze to the ground while his hands reached to wipe his sorrows off his face.

“I would die for you. Why can’t you do the same?”

You tilted your head.

“Strange, now that I think about it–” you said nonchalantly. 

“Didn’t I watch you die?”

Silence.

You should comfort him.

“Gepard,” you started.

Wrong name.

“No, it’s Gepard.”

Wrong name.

“It’s not the wrong name. I know what I’m saying.”

Wrong name.

I continued to correct you.

“It’s not–” You took a shaky breath. “It’s not the wrong name, you fucking idiot.”

He remains still, quiet.

Almost frozen.

Stiff as a board.

You laughed.

“I get it now. Haha. I get it now.”

You look down, staring at the human corpse. Human corpse? No. That’s not a human. A human cannot die twice. 

You get it now. 

You’re in the Back Alley.

There are always eyes that watch the Back Alley.

You look above, particularly to no one, but you believed the scriptwriter must be listening. 

“He’s listening, isn't He?”

Yes. He is.

It's time for us to talk.

The clock struck 10:10.

[space-writes]

wip wednesday tag

tagged by @the-inkwell-variable, thank you! I’m approaching the halfway mark on the redrafting i’m doing for Valloroth right now, so here’s a section from that, ft Sorrow and Aspiration banter my beloved <3

(tags & taglist under the cut)

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

Sorrow’s tail thwacked her in the back of the shin. “Don’t sulk, vidaa. We’re closer than we were.” “And poorer. The Everent money is already gone.” “Then we’ll ask them for more. They want their son back. They’ll keep paying until they have him.” “Push them too hard and they’ll cut you off.” “I’ll push them as hard as I wish,” Sorrow said, voice turning cold. “They’re the Third House. They’ll lose as much as I decide they deserve to lose.” A blink, and his usual easy smile reasserted itself. “Now, are you going to come with me to Invereid, or do you want to stay here and play mother to the K’zinla I’m leaving behind?” Aspiration stopped dead, causing an immediate roadblock in the street around which grumbling dracari and scurrying kobolds were forced to divert. “If you think I’m staying up here in this floating scale-warren, you’re stupider than I thought.” “Given that I thought you’d say something to that effect, I am perhaps a little wiser than you give me credit for.”

[ID - a green and black decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @morganwriteblr @ashen-crest @noblebs and @the-inkwell-variable

Valloroth taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites @reininginthefirewriting @memento-morri-writes @foxboyclit @lawful-evil-novelist

@at-thezenith @morganwriteblr @fayeiswriting @serenanymph

@sam-glade @viscerawrites @thegreatobsesso @flower-reads (ask to be +/-)

[fandom-hoarder]

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This is a multi-fandom, multi-shipping blog currently focused on Supernatural. Proshipping bibro, SamDean focused, finale positive. I know the difference between canon and fanon. ❤

I post and reblog: gencest, wincest, weirdcest, aroace qpr samdean, headcanons, imagines/thoughts, dark stuff, angst, fluff, fanfiction, queer Sam, trans Sam, 'genderswap' edits, winkline, sastiel, most Sam ships really, daddycest, mommycest, weecest, 18+ fan content, spn crack, j2, rpf, occasional fandom wank, other fandoms, and random shit.

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(Actually there's more now) Walker tags to block: #cordri neg #cordri squick #geri neg #geri critical

I started SPN in 2013 as a bibro that shipped destiel. The thing that finally brought me to the fandom was the podfic of Two Boys From Kansas in King Uther’s Court (a BBC Merlin/SPN gen crossover), and I binge-watched s1-7 a couple times with my baby bro until new episodes started coming out and watched those as they aired until s10. Came back to fandom in 2020 and couldn't enjoy much destiel content. The culture of heller fandom and my preference for a canon-adjacent aroace relationship that doesn't sideline Sam or change Dean's character has made my enjoyment of most deancas content a thing of the past. (Also I'm like 200% more obsessed with SamDean since the finale.)

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[elwenyere]

Berlin, With Your Hand in Mine

Pairing: Sam/Bucky

Words: 1k

Tags: Sam Finds Bucky Before Civil War, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, First Kiss, Fluff, Holiday Vibes

This ficlet was written for my beloved @yavannie​, who provided the prompt “late-night feelings” and also created the gorgeous, magical art. I really hope it brings some softness to your day. Happy Holidays, SamBuckies!

Read the Full Fic on AO3

By the time Sam finished his seventh lap around the long-emptied stalls of the Gendarmenmarkt, even the snow-dusted statue of Friedrich Schiller seemed inclined to accept the inevitable conclusion: this trip had been a huge mistake.

Sam paused in front of the window of a chocolate shop - its festive arrangements of truffles and garlands obscured by darkness now, hours after the final holiday shoppers had left the bustling stores and headed for home - and he tried to pull together some halfway sensible spin on what he was doing out here: wandering the streets of Berlin on Christmas Eve, freezing his ass off in the first snow of the season, and hoping that one of the most irritating people on the CIA’s naughty list had indeed been hacking Sam’s emails.

Never mind that the asshole in question had been dodging Sam’s attempts at contact for over a year - always leaving just enough of a trace to let Sam know he’d been on the right track and never enough to reveal what the hell that track was. Never mind that Sam had just spent a small fortune on a last-minute flight, an overpriced hotel room, and a hunch - a gamble that the events of the past week might finally have tempted Bucky to get closer than sniper range. There had to be some way to swing this trip as a bold strategy or a cunning ruse or anything other than what it was: a terrifying leap of faith that was about to end with him falling flat on his face.

Just then, the angle of the breeze shifted slightly, and Sam looked up to see the kaleidoscope of reflections in the store window resolve itself into a halo of Christmas lights and the soft outline of a hooded figure - the presence over his shoulder too familiar by now for Sam to need more than a glance to identify it.

“Barnes,” he said softly. And then, because that one word alone already sounded too much like a confession, he added, “God, you’re stupid.”

Read the Full Fic on AO3

[bccky]

Please?

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Words: 490

Prompt: “Come here, let me fix it.”

Warnings: fluff, Dean being a little shit, a bit of swearing, accidental first kiss

A/N: repost of my own/ divider from @firefly-graphics

Hope you enjoy Xx

Main Masterlist • Supernatural Masterlist

You pulled on your best puppy face, “Please?”

You knew your pout could never rival Sam’s doe-eyes to convince Dean of something, but you had to try.

“Uh-uh, that won’t do.” He shook his head, wiggling his finger at you. “You have to beg, make me feel like you actually mean it.”

You pursed your lips in an effort to keep yourself from scowling.

Dean was the only one with you in the Bunker. Sam had taken Castiel and Jack to a theme park for the Nephilim’s birthday.

You had been cleaning before the small party when the three came back, swiping the Library tables clear of the junk that the boys usually left on them. While picking up a book left open, you had heard something crashing on the floor.

Jack had kept his beloved iPod, which Dean had gifted him this morning, under the book which had fallen and broke when you had moved it. You had gasped so loud that had made Dean run out of the War Room where he had been decorating, gun cocked and ready to defend you.

However, when he had understood the situation, Dean had rolled his eyes and tutted as he put his gun back. “Jack really liked that, you know?”

The thing was, you knew Dean was more than capable and smart enough to put it back and make it seem brand new. But Dean was also a little shit who bitched about doing anything.

You had perched yourself on the War Room table as he continued taping another balloon to the wall as you cradled the small electronic in your hands.

“Please, Dean, repair it for Jack. You know how devasted he would be if he sees it like this. I know you care a little bit.”

“I don’t even care that I don’t care.” Dean shrugged before grinning. “Besides, you broke it. Repair it yourself or get him a new one.”

You groaned. A trip to the nearest store was definitely not possible before the Birthday boy came back.

Trying a last attempt, you said, “If you do this, I’ll make you a pie.”

He sighed exasperatedly, making you smile. “Come here, let me fix it.”

You shot up from your seat, rushing to give the iPod to him. “Thank you!” You leaned in, going to kiss his cheek.

“Yeah, you make a good pie and all will be forgotten-” Dean’s head moved to face you, your lips accidentally meeting his.

Neither of you moved for a long second, and then you jumped apart, your brain finally registering what happened.

The next few moments were dead silent, neither of you daring to make eye contact.

Your stupid tongue, however, decided to voice a thought. “I really wanna kiss you again.”

Dean finally stared in your eyes, giving you the confident smirk that you were oh-so familiar with. “Your wish is my command.”

“Well, what are you waiting for then?”

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