#like: come the fuck on. cut that shit out. seriously cas just fucking—just stop it. just. cas just. goddAMMIT

[marc-spectorr]

hate to love you

ˣ pairing: poe dameron x f!reader

ˣ summary: being stranded on a planet? not a problem, at least rescue’s coming. the real issue is that it means for twelve hours, you’re stuck with poe dameron.

ˣ warnings: 7.7k wc. explicit smut (oral/vaginal) and language. enemies-ish to lovers & forced proximity trope. mentions of blood & injuries. kinda soft!

ˣ a/n: “it’s been 84 years…” seriously tho i apologize for the big delay in posting ;_; but yay here’s my first official poe fic! i didn’t intend for this to be quite long, still i hope you enjoy 🤍

You’re seething with anger.

A red, hot, and blinding rage.

One more word out of your Commander, and you swear you’d make him regret having survived that crash landing.

You couldn’t care any less for his half-assed excuses. The weak explanations and baseless assumptions that only boil your blood. Even the sound of his mere voice has you so irritated that you wish the explosion had blown out your ear drums.

If only he had listened to you, then the two of you wouldn’t be in this mess— you wouldn’t be stranded on some unknown, barren planet deep in the outer rim.

Quick to point a finger, this was entirely Poe Dameron’s doing.

This was all his fucking fault.

“Relax, darling,” Poe assures nonchalantly. You roll your eyes at his endearment, darling. Bastard. Smiles cockily like one too. “Nearest Resistance outpost received our distress signal along with coordinates ’fore we got shot down. At this rate, rescue should be coming in by the next morning.”

You bite your tongue hard, maintaining a steely, scathing gaze at the flickering embers before you. That’s at least twelve hours. Twelve miserable hours with Poe, the very last man you’d want to be stuck with.

Maker, what did you do in your past life to deserve this punishment?

“I’m sure you’ll be perfectly fine sleeping here in the meantime. Think of this as a vacation of sorts. An overnight camping trip. You always did mention wanting to get out of D’Qar for a tiny bit.”

By here, Poe meant the rocky cavern serving as your shelter for the night. Thankfully, he managed to do something correctly, and that was igniting a fire. The sun was dipping behind the horizon at a quickened pace; you could already feel the sharp nip of the wind swirling in the air.

Great. Earlier, you had narrowly avoided dying in a ball of fire. Now, you’re faced with the threat of hypothermia.

Two extremes. Funny how the universe works at times.

“So, are you just gonna give me the silent treatment or what?”

Never mind that. Freezing to death sounded much more appealing than having Poe talk your ear off.

It pisses you off how he’s seemingly amused by the situation. Acting as if he didn’t get your ship shot down, almost killing you in an attempt to prove a point. The only thing Poe confirmed at that moment was how incredibly reckless and arrogant he could be. That, plus you realized how little he cares about your well-being, seeing he was ready to risk your life along with his.

“C’mon, lighten up, Black Two,” Poe spurs as he sits cross-legged on the coarse ground beside you. “At least we made it out alive.”

You recoil at Poe’s sudden nearness, tugging the emergency blanket draped over your body closer. Lucky for you both, you escaped the fiery wreckage with a couple of minor injuries. Some scrapes and bruises. He’s got a busted lip, small cuts along his cheek, and the bridge of his nose.

On the other hand, you were nursing a swollen ankle that was probably more of a sprain than not. Add to that a nasty gash on your forehead and a deep cut to the side. But hey, things could have been much worse.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay. There, there’s your apology,” he offers tartly. “And you can stop with the poutiness now. It doesn’t suit your face, darling.”

Turning to meet Poe’s gaze, you scoff at him. “Seriously? You honestly think saying “I’m sorry” after the shit you pulled up there will magically fix things?”

“Well, it’s a start. No need to get all snippy at me. Case you haven’t noticed, I’m stuck on this lame fucking planet too.”

“Imagine how I feel being stuck with you, jack-ass,” you snark with all the bitterness in your tone.

Poe pauses, then narrows his eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m sick and tired of you, Dameron. Always so damn egotistic and condescending. It’s astounding how you made it this far into the war still in one piece.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault those tie-fighters ambushed us out of nowhere, alright? I had it all under control and could have really used your help. But no— instead, you wouldn’t stop bitching about high-tailing outta there. We only had enough fuel for one more jump!”

“And? Being stranded in space and waiting for help makes a shit ton of sense versus going against ten fucking tie-fighters shooting at us all at once.”

Poe huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “If we would have gone with your plan, it would mean aborting the mission and coming back to base empty-handed.”

“I fail to see where you find fault in that, considering what we were up against. But whatever— thanks for nearly getting me killed, by the way. I have nothing else to say to you.”

A pained hiss passes from your clenched teeth as you push yourself back up to your feet. You stagger several yards towards the entrance of the cave, furthering yourself from the warmth of the fire. Cold be damned, you need to get far and away from him. Fast. It’s as if Poe’s very existence repels you. Drives you into a spiraling madness, and it’s no wonder that you hate his guts.

You hate Poe Dameron.

Loathe, despised, detest, and abhor.

Call it whatever the fuck you want, but no word would be enough to describe the amount of resentment you had for him.

This isn’t the first time Poe has gotten under your skin, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Too bad he’s the Resistance’s Golden Boy. Untouchable and could never do wrong. His actions today would be seen as heroic. A brave, brazen move. And if that isn’t the case, then the least Leia would do is give him a mere slap on the wrist and ground him for a day or two.

No harsh punishment for the fleet’s best fighter pilot. Not for Poe. Never for him.

The fate of the galaxy relies on people like him.

What a shame.

What a damn, fucking shame.

“Two.”

Your thoughts are derailed when Poe intones your callsign, cutting through the vast silence with what could be mistaken as sincerity. The urge to snap at him for disturbing your respite is there, but the energy to actually do it has all been depleted.

You’re tired. Exhausted— so fucking exhausted of him that you wanted nothing more than to be left alone in the peace. Why couldn’t he allow you that?

“Come back inside. It’s getting cold out here,” Poe coaxes softly.

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand. Even without checking, you’re well aware that he’s standing there behind you, waiting.

“Kriff, can you stop being stubborn and talk to me for just five seconds?”

Poe doesn’t relent. He never does. He always has to have the last word, the last laugh, everything.

And he’s only this way when he’s with you, for reasons perhaps you may never know.

A heavy sigh fills the empty pause. You barely register the blanket settling across your shoulders until Poe softly calls out your name. Not your callsign like he normally does. But your name. And it flees from his lips in a low whisper, void of any spite or sourness. You’re not used to it— the softness in his voice, the quiet calmness that soon follows.

For a moment, you think there is sincerity this time.

Poe appears in your field of vision, and you swallow thickly. Hate him all you want, but you can never deny how handsome he is. Even you have shamefully indulged a glance at him here and there around the base.  

There’s a reason why everyone, at some point or another, has fancied Poe. Bronzed skin, dark café eyes, a smile that’s brighter than the Tatooine suns. If looks could bring the First Order down alone, Commander Dameron would have already forced them to their knees.

“You’re bleeding,” he observes, thick brows knitting in worry. Your gaze shifts from the golden cast on Poe’s face to the laceration on your hip that you’d crudely bandaged up earlier. Blood soaks through your tee, trickling down and staining the earth below. He had previously offered to help you, although you were too angry to allow him. Even if it hurts like a bitch. “I promise to shut up for the rest of the night if you let me patch that up correctly.”

You chuckle mirthfully. “For the rest of the night? Hmm, I don’t know. That seems quite a far-fetched feat for you, Dameron.”

“Try me,” Poe adds with a small smile, and there’s something in the way he looks at you. Something so gentle, sweet. Your eyes flicker back to his, and fuck— Poe is beautiful in this gleaming light.

You mentally shove that final thought into the farthest depths of your head.

“Fine,” you agree slowly. “But if I hear a single peep out of you, I’m tossing you into the fire.”

Poe smirks, nodding. “Copy that.”

You almost tossed him into the fire.

Almost.

Impressively, Poe did keep his mouth close for the first ten minutes or so. He had you lying on your back, cushioned by his jacket spread on the harsh floor. You stared at the stony overhead above as he changed the wrappings on your side with fresh bacta pads from the emergency kit he recovered at the crash site.

Everything was going pretty well. That is until he cleared his throat.

“Please don’t react when I ask you this, but— can you take off your shirt for me?”

Your fist tightens into a ball for a few seconds until you force yourself to relax.

“Why? You can reach the wound fine like this. There’s no need for it to be off.”

Poe exhales a long, weary breath. “Your shirt is getting in the way, Two. I can’t clean this thoroughly with it on; if I don’t, the bacta won’t be enough to stop an infection. Trust me, it’s not going to be pleasant if that happens.”

Your face heats up, and it’s not because of the makeshift fire nearby. The last thing you expected today is Poe seeing you in such an undressed state. Maker, this mission only keeps getting worse and worse, isn’t it?

“Don’t look anywhere you’re not supposed to, got it?” you warn him with a spitfire tone. “If I catch even the slightest glimpse, I will—”

“Yeah, yeah— you’ll toss me into the fire,” Poe finishes your threat as he untwists the bottle cap of the antiseptic solution. “Shirt off, I’ll be quick. Don’t have to worry about me sneaking a peek, darling.”

You strip off your tee with a grunt, Poe coming to assist when he notices you struggling to get it over your head. The airy chill bites at your bare skin instantly. Clad in only a bra, you begin to shiver slightly, arms coming up to shield the upper half of your body from both the stiff breeze and Poe’s view.

Strangely, you aren’t apprehensive about him going against his word. Poe could be an asshole, sure. But he’s not the type to disrespect in that regard. The most you can expect from him is the incessant teasing and flirting— all lighthearted, harmless, and fun (for him, at least).

You haven’t been on the receiving end of it. Not for a while now, no. You remember the time Poe wasn’t a difficult man to deal with. It had been so long ago that you’d forgotten what that was like. Having him around and not wanting to immediately leave his presence. It’s quite hard to believe that such a time had ever existed.

You don’t know what went wrong, why things are the way they are now.

You wonder if it’s too late to fix this. If there’s anything left to salvage when you’re grasping onto a fraying thread. You want things to change, desperately so. But it’s all up to him. It’s all up to Poe.

Poe. His hands are on your body, warm and soft. Gentle in the way he moves them as he mends your injury.

He touches you carefully like you’re made out of glass— fragile and delicate— and you try disregarding the tingling buzz in your veins. How he bites the corner of his bottom lip in concentration, his stray dark locks sweeping against his forehead as he leans in closer. Close enough that his hot breath fans over your skin, and it’s electrifying.

There’s a fleeting moment of you wanting to seek out more. Chasing something that you would not dare to ask. Something that you’re certain would never happen.

Not with Poe.

No— Not here. Not now. Not ever.

“Sorry, again,” you hear Poe say softly as deft fingers secure the new wrapping over your wound. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt you back there. It was fucking stupid of me to even try, and look what happened. I should have listened to you and—”

He stops for a beat and quietly hands you your t-shirt to put back on. There’s a shift in Poe’s demeanor. Gone was his haughty, overly narcissistic self, that unbearable side of him that you’ve known for so long. 

This Poe, however— this is all new. Caring, compassionate. Soft and gentle. It’s all new to you. Different and unrecognizable. As unfamiliar as this planet is to you.

Where has this version of Poe been hiding? Because for once, he’s not insufferable.

“I know you don’t like me. I know that once we’re back on D’Qar, you’re going to chew me out in front of the General, and I deserve it,” he continues, guiding you to sit up. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. But what I’m hoping for right now is for you to understand how sorry I am for taking things too far. It wasn’t my intention to put you in harm’s way. It never is.”

A light crackling noise pierces the stillness of the air. The ember glow from the flickering flames dances over Poe’s remorseful features. He regards you with a tender expression, those doe-brown irises of his make your heart thump quicker in your chest.

Surprisingly, you don’t fend off the smile slowly creeping its way across your face. “Now what? Are we calling a truce?”

“I’ll give you a trail mix bar if we do,” Poe beams, pulling out the snack from his jacket pocket and handing it to you. “A peace offering.”

With a half-serious glare, you snatch the trail mix away from him, grumbling, “Were you going to hide this from me the whole time?”

“No, of course not. I was planning on sharing one with you.”

Your brow furrows. “One?”

“Yeah, one,” Poe confirms, taking out a second bar and waving it in the air. “I brought along two just in case.”

“In case we get stranded on a deserted wasteland?”

Laughter bubbles out of him. “In case you and I get hungry during the flight.”

“Well, uh— thanks,” you reply briskly as you tear open the wrapper with Poe mirroring your action.

“See, I’m not all that bad,” he grins broadly, and there’s more truth to the statement than you care to admit.

God, you’re unsure whether you have a concussion or you’re losing your mind. Because one moment, you’re tearing Poe a new one, and the next, he’s sending a flurry of butterflies to the pit of your stomach. You’re confused as hell, nerves a jumbled mess, and you still can’t shake off the feeling of his hands on you— touching you.

Perhaps, it’s neither. Maybe it’s merely you beginning to hate him less.

Impossible, you briefly muse. But what if it isn’t?

“So… truce?” Poe asks whilst chewing, holding out his free hand to you. “Let’s turn a new leaf starting tonight. Look, I like you, Two. I really like you. I guess that’s also why I’ve been tough on you lately.”

Poe mumbles that last bit quickly, and you nearly choke on the bite you’ve taken. Even he’s caught by surprise with his own admission, his eyes widening in disbelief. But before you could question him on that further, he skips around the topic and continues.

“I swear, all the petty arguments end today. I don’t wanna butt heads with you anymore. So, what do you say? Truce?”

You let out a drawn-out sigh, your gaze locking on the hopeful gleam in those big brown eyes of his. He’s like a puppy. Say no, and it’s almost as bad as accidentally kicking it in the face. It wouldn’t hurt to give Poe another chance, right? It shouldn’t. And you pray to whatever higher power there is (or isn’t) that doing this wouldn’t turn out to be a big mistake.

“Okay,” you accept and shake Poe’s hand, not missing the growing curve on his lips. “Truce. No more bullshit, Dameron, or that’s it. I’m out.”

“No more bullshit, scout’s honor,” he upholds. “Now that’s out of the way…”

Oh hell. What now?

“Remember, we declared a truce. No backsies.”

You cross your arms against your chest. “Dameron, what are you talking about—”

“This planet’s atmosphere is shit, okay? Even with the fire here, it’s cold, and we only have one blanket.”

“Are you proposing that we—”

“Sleep together,” Poe declares rather enthusiastically. “Not in that way, obviously. I mean, sleep next to each other. Y’know, to conserve body heat? Keep ourselves as warm and cozy as possible.”

An exasperated groan escapes you. With the way you were rolling your eyes hard, it’s a good thing that it didn’t trigger an aneurysm. “Fucking— fine. You can sleep next to me. But hog the blanket from me, and I will—”

“Don’t have to remind me. Into the fire pit I shall go,” Poe smirks when you nod. “Consider yourself lucky, sweetheart. You’re guaranteed a restful slumber tonight despite the circumstances.”

“And how are you so sure of that?”

“Simple,” he answers, almost braggingly. “I don’t snore.”

You couldn’t come up with a snarky response to that. In fact, you couldn’t come up with any type of response. You’re too absorbed by the thought of Poe snuggling against you, something that would have really peeved you if it had been brought up an hour ago.

And Poe picks up on it, your speechlessness. Your glassy eyes, how your jaw slightly drops as if you had just heard the most absurd joke out of him. But you don’t flat-out deny his suggestion. You don’t have it in you to tell him to fuck off. Nor that the fire is more than enough to keep warm.

Embarrassingly, you wanted it. To feel Poe’s body beside you, surrounded by his radiating warmth. It’s been far too long since you’ve shared a bed with another man. Although this is technically not the same thing, you’re so goddamn touch-starved that sleeping next to Poe isn’t the most awful idea in the world.

Instead, it’s all you could think of— it’s all you need right now.

Fuck, you’re losing your sanity. That’s what it is. You’ve gone crazy after realizing that in less than a day, you’ve gone from hating Poe with every fiber of your being to craving… Well, him.

And you don’t know how to make of it. Whether or not you’ll make it.

Rescue would be coming soon. After dawn, if Poe’s estimations are correct. You could only hope that you’re able to survive through the night to be saved.

Hours have passed, and from what you can see, it’s still dark outside.

You lie restlessly on the rugged terrain in silence. The frigid air sweeping into the cavern leaves you shuddering, and you pull the blanket high under your chin. It’s silent for two or three beats, save for the snap and crackle of the blaze.

Then there’s rustling at your side. Glancing over, you find Poe on his back, one hand behind his head as he lets out a yawn.

“Can’t sleep?” You manage, copying his position so that you’re both staring aimlessly into nothing. “Or are you afraid I might catch you lying about not being a snorer?”

A chuckle rumbles out of Poe. “Hey, I truly don’t snore. If you want, I can provide a list of people that can attest to this.”

“Oh, no, thank you,” you rebuff. “I would assume that list is long, and frankly, I don’t have the patience to go through each name there.”

“Eh, between you and me, it’s really not that long. To be honest, my dick is probably longer—”

“Okaaay, that is TMI, Dameron. Watch it.” You playfully swat at his chest, choking back an incredulous chortle. “But your list being short is kinda hard to believe when there’s all that gossip about you being quite the fuckboy.”

Poe shifts to lie on his side, now facing you. “And you believe them? Those gossips about me?”

Shrugging, you do the same, and you’re suddenly made aware of how close he is to you. “Why? Are they not true?”

“I may flirt like there’s no tomorrow, but the truth is— I haven’t had sex in… months?”

You raise a brow, stunned. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he affirms flatly. “I don’t get a lot of free time, you know? Leia’s been assigning me on missions one after the other. Then there’s those briefings upon my return plus strategy meetings, practice drills, blah blah blah... And when I’m finally done for the day, I barely have the energy to drag myself to the ‘fresher for a shower, let alone fuck someone’s brains out.”

“Huh, guess I was wrong about you,” you admit ruefully. “Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Poe smiles. He’s quiet as you observe him for a moment, averting his gaze before speaking again. “Not to mention, there’s this girl…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, we haven’t been on the best of terms. She uh— actually despises me, I’m pretty sure.”

Could he be…? No. He couldn’t. It couldn’t be.

“She despises you?” You gasp in feign astonishment. “I mean, what’s there not to like?”

Poe cracks a breathy laugh at your sarcasm. “Exactly. But really, though— I was a total ass to her. Always picked fights with her over the stupidest shit, and I did it to push her away. Took a while to realize it, but I was falling for her. I still am, and I can’t have that. Not with what’s going on right now.”

“And did it work? Did it stop you from falling any further?”

He shakes his head, his voice a whisper now. “No. It didn’t. It didn’t do a damn thing. Every argument made me want her even more. Mostly because I find it hot and sexy when she gets super mad at me.”

“Gross.” You gently shove Poe’s shoulder, and he catches your hand as you begin to pull away. He holds it loosely at first, allowing you to freely slip out of his grasp should you choose to do so.

You don’t.

You remain still. Unmoving. It’s only Poe who moves after a passing breath, fingers slowly entwining with yours, and you let him. You let him, despite how intimate the gesture is. You aren’t his lover. Hell, you’re barely even friends. The term “enemies” no longer fits for some reason. You couldn’t call yourselves that. Not anymore. Not after his vague confession to you earlier.

“Before, when you said you really liked me, what did you mean by that?”

Your inquiry is met with a faint hum in response. A squeeze to your hand, then Poe releases it. He props himself on an elbow, his eyes melting into yours, and you lose yourself in those dark, endless pools. “You know what it means.”

“Poe—”

“— Can I kiss you?”

The world around you comes to an abrupt standstill. Your lips part to say the first thing your mind could think of, yet there is none.

Poe senses your hesitation. But when he starts to retreat, pretending he never said anything, you say his name in such a tenderness you’ve never done before.

“Yes,” was your answer. A small and straightforward yes— a word that has been teetering on the edge of your tongue as soon as Poe had asked.

Unknowingly, he’d spark a smoldering fire from deep within. The longer he lingers around you, the more it swells into an inferno, its hotness spreading like wildfire throughout your body.

Poe captures your lips in what was initially a chaste kiss, his hand tilting your chin upwards as your eyelids flutter shut. He moves slowly, slower than you anticipated, but it was sweet nonetheless. He kisses you as if time is endless, only stopping when you grab a fistful of his tee and swiftly tug him to settle between your legs.

“Eager, are we?” Poe simpers, watching as you caress the pads of your fingertips along his stubbled cheek.

“I can ask you the same thing,” you cheekily quip when you feel the bulge of his pants on your thigh. “Doesn’t take that much to get you hard, huh?”

“Only ’cause I’m with you, baby.” He shoots you an enticing wink, and heat rushes up to your face and down your core.

You’ve never seen Poe up close like this. Never have you noticed the kind warmth of his eyes. The way they glimmer in the low light reminds you of stars, all dazzling and bright, so full of life even in the midst of a war.

You don’t say it out loud; you’re too proud to admit it. But you could easily get lost while gazing into those eyes.

“A-Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Poe rasps, brows drawing together. “We don’t have to, and I don’t wanna fuck this up right after agreeing to start over and make it all weird—”

You cut Poe’s rambling short by crashing your lips against his, tangling your fingers in the mess of curls on his head. He responds with equal fervor. A fiery passion seeps into the kiss. Evident by the way his tongue slips past your lips, teasing and tasting until he takes the air out of your lungs.

A soft moan breaks free when Poe presses hot, open-mouth kisses down your throat, the sounds of your ragged breaths beating against your ears. “Off,” he directs impatiently, his hands already lifting the hem of your tee.

You’re quick to shed it off for him, snaking a hand to your back to unclasp your bra immediately after. Goosebumps engulf your entire body but no longer is it from the cold. Rather, it’s from the way Poe’s blackened eyes rake over your bareness, setting every inch of you alight in a blistering blaze.

“Like what you see, Dameron?”

Poe doesn’t reply right away. You follow his tipping gaze downwards to your bandaged wound. The curl of his lips falters ever so slightly— weighted guilt is now written all over his face, the sight of it heavy on your heart.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Doesn’t hurt that much anymore,” you soothe, brushing your fingers along the nape of his neck. “Just… be gentle for now, I guess. We can do the rough stuff some other time.”

A charming grin slowly splits Poe’s face, and the flurry in your stomach intensifies. “You’re hoping for a next time, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes but find yourself unable to retract the statement. Yes, it had been a slip of the tongue, yet it isn’t the furthest thing from the truth.

“I’m hoping for a next time if this goes well,” you clarify as Poe kneels back on his haunches.

The blanket you were tucked underneath slides off his back, exposing you both to the chill of the night. Neither of you make an attempt to pull it up over your bodies. The proximity warded the coldness away.

“Oh, well, in that case, I gotta make sure this will be more than just “well” for you.”

Snorting, you gesture up and down at him. “Getting rid of your clothes would be a great start, don’t ya think?”

“You want me to strip for you, darling? All you had to do was ask nicely.”

Just as you were about to let out a scoff, a breath hitches in your throat. Poe peels away his shirt in one fluid movement, revealing his toned chest, sharp collarbones, and firm abs. You stare without blinking, unabashed. Your mouth goes dry as you graze over the soft and hard planes of his olive skin and muscles.

“Like what you see, Two?” Poe echoes your earlier words with a coy smile.

Your attention drifts down to the trail of hair disappearing into the waistband of his tented trousers. Dizzy and dazed, you wet your lips, and Poe fortunately takes the hint, his eyes never leaving yours as he proceeds to unfasten his pants. Tight black boxers hug his ample hips, the thick outline of his cock straining against the thin fabric of it.

Stars. You really do like what you see.

“I need you, Poe,” you croon, squirming when Poe bends down and cages you in his strong arms. “I need to feel you.”

“Need me, yeah?” Don’t worry, I got you, baby. I got you.”

You arch your back up to him, seeking relief by grinding into his throbbing erection. Doing so elicits a low groan from Poe, whose lips began to light a trail of fire along the valley of your breasts.

Needy moans fill his ears as Poe nips, sucks, and bites at one tender mound while a hand squeezes and kneads the other. He rolls a nipple between his thumb and index finger, sending a fresh wave of arousal coasting through you.

“Prettiest pair of tits I’ve ever seen.” Poe husks, his voice rich, smokey, and smooth. His mouth then descends to your stomach, planting hot kisses all the way down to your bottoms. “Can’t wait to see the rest of you.”

“Hmm… Only see?” You tease with a small quirk on your lips.

He cocks a brow at you, his deft fingers unbuttoning your pants before sliding them down your legs. “Why? You want me to touch you, baby? Want me to taste what’s down here?”

Poe traces your slit through your soaked underwear, purposefully adding only the slightest bit of pressure when he reaches your clit. A moan ripples through the air as he circles it lazily, tantalizingly.

“Look at you, already so wet for me. You want me so badly, huh?”

Keening and mewling at his graveled taunt, the desperation practically drips from you. You’re bucking your lower half towards him without restraint, and he’s flashing you the most shit-eating grin imaginable.

“Fuck. Poe, please… I need—” Your voice catches in your throat. You suck in a gasping breath, completely overwhelmed by the rough scratching of Poe’s five o’clock shadow on your inner thigh.

A sole press of his lips to your clothed pussy, he effortlessly rids your panties, tossing them somewhere behind him. He then dives right back into your sex, spreading your legs wide, and for a split second, he glances up with this look akin to a parched man who finds an oasis in you.

And you’d never forget it. Even if you wanted to— even if you decide that this would just be a one-time thing, you could never forget this entangled moment with him— with Poe.

Poe, whose dilated pupils brimming with lust you couldn’t— wouldn’t— forget. Nor his shallow, shaky exhale as he draws nearer, his steady grip on your hips tightening, digging.

He drags you closer to his mouth and whispers a low, sultry remark. Something along the lines of your pussy smelling so sweet, though you’re not entirely sure of it. You couldn’t be, not when your heartbeat is pounding furiously in your ears. You couldn’t focus on anything other than his nose nudging against your clit, his tongue delving its way inside you, and it has you seeing quite literal stars—

— then, less than a beat later, a whole fucking supernova.

Two fingers much thicker than your own slowly stretch you open. Poe’s name comes out of you as a trembling plea, and the cocky bastard finds amusement in your reaction. He peers at you through thick lashes, his knuckle-deep, beckoning digits working your cunt, tongue flicking and swirling around your swollen clit.

Tugging at his hair harshly, you writhe under Poe’s ministrations, and it forces him to adjust his hold on you. He has your hips roughly pinned down, eating you out vigorously until your toes curl and your legs shake in pure ecstasy.

Poe brings you to climax faster than anyone has ever had. Including yourself. It has your body quivering beneath him uncontrollably, firing up white jolts of pleasure into every nerve ending within you. Your vision is hazy and unfocused, muscles weak and feeble. The only movement you have enough strength to do is reach down to meekly tap on Poe’s arm as he laps at your dripping pussy.

“You enjoy yourself, sweetheart?” he says, voice an octave lower yet full of smugness. “Seems like you did.”

You hum softly, taking in how Poe looks kneeling between your thighs. Desire pools in your belly again as your heavy-lidded eyes rake over his face appreciatively. His chin glistens with your juices. He darts his tongue out to lick his reddened lips, and you have to swallow a moan as he lifts his fingers— the very same fingers that fucked you to the point where you swear you’d pass out— up to his mouth and sucks them clean. Poe makes a show of it, too, closing his eyes in delight and groaning at the taste.

And you wonder what he exactly thinks of it— how divine you taste. Does he think you’re sweet on your tongue? Tangy? You don’t need to ask if he liked it, of course. The cock twitching in his garments tells you all that you need to know. And fuck, if Poe is that good with merely his hands and his mouth, you could only imagine how mind-blowing it might be once he’s inside of you.

Pushing yourself to sit up, you ignore the spark of pain shooting up your side. Poe quickly notices your discomfort and gently urges you to lay back down, looming over you. “But I wanna—”

He silences you with a searing kiss, tasting your own essence lingering on his tongue as it glides against yours. You palm Poe through his boxers and revel at how stiff and big he is. You wish that he would let you take care of him the way he took care of you.

“Shhh, don’t worry about it. It’s okay,” Poe mumbles breathlessly as your fingers dip under the edge of the final article of clothing separating the two of you. “Next time, baby. I promise. I’ll let you suck on my dick once we’re back home. Until then, I’m gonna make sure that you stay warm all night long…”

Poe hungrily devours your mouth once more, helping you pull his underwear the rest of the way off. You tear yourself away from the kiss and drag your eager gaze down to the rigid length poking at your hip. You had no doubt that his cock would be as gorgeous as the rest of him, but it was much, much more than what you pictured in your mind.

Thick, long, with a delicious slight curve to it. Your mouth instinctively waters at the sight. You know it would be reaching places deep in you that haven’t been touched in so long. It’ll leave you a soreness lasting for one or two days, maybe even more if he really does fuck like a god, or so the gossips would have it. You don’t doubt that either— you wholeheartedly believe in it already.

A gasp erupts from Poe’s throat when you seize his erection, your fingers barely closing around the girthiness of him. He’s hot and heavy in your palm, and you stroke him nice and slow, smearing the slick precum leaking from the tip all over his veiny shaft.

Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, you bask in the pretty noises Poe makes right under your ear. You jerk him faster now. Your fist constricts around him as he pants heavily into your skin, reducing the always-headstrong and mouthy Poe Dameron into a mess of grunts and moans.

And you like it. You like seeing him this way— absolutely wrecked by the touch of your hand.

“S-Stop, stop,” he chokes out, covering your hand with his own and abruptly stilling your actions. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep it up. Gotta feel that pretty pussy of yours before that happens. Fuckin’ need to be inside you first, baby.”

Poe sucks at your pulse point, and you wordlessly nod through the haze of euphoria. The rise and fall of your chest hasten as you watch him grip his member and glide it along your drenched folds, coating himself with your shining wetness. You roughly claw your fingernails on his back and roll your hips. The blunt head of his cock slips upwards, crashing into your clit, and you have to forcefully bite down on your lip to stifle a scream.

“Don’t hold back those sounds, beautiful. You don’t have to worry about being heard. It’s only me here. It’s only us.”

“No more teasing. Please, Poe. Please…” you beg and beg, glossy eyes connecting with his hooded ones. Though the remnants of your high have ebbed away, you’re still tense— wound up like a tight little spring. The knot in your stomach waits to be uncoiled. An unraveling not possible without the feeling of him moving in and out of you. “Just fuck me, baby. Get in me now and fuck me, Poe. Make me feel good.”

There’s a flicker of something carnal crossing Poe’s face, and you catch it for a flitting second until you follow his lust-clouded gaze as it falls to the hand wrapped around the base of his cock. He’s leaned in close to you, his warm breath tickling your heated skin as he lines himself up with your entrance. Your pulse beats in your temples; beads of sweat pebble your forehead, and the blood in your veins simmer hot at him finally pushing in, leaving you gasping for air.

“S-shit…” Poe growls, slowly sinking into your cunt. It’s a burning stretch as he enters, the tight wet heat of your walls fluttering to accommodate the thickness of him. You hike your leg around his waist, shifting the angle, and he plunges in even deeper, fully bottoming out. “Fuck— baby, you’re squeezing me so hard. God, your pussy feels fucking amazing around my dick. G-gimme a sec, sweetheart. I-I need a sec— just… hang on…”

Breathing harshly through his nose, Poe strains to maintain some semblance of control, jaw setting taut and eyes screwing shut as he holds you still. His calloused fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips, marking you with bruises purple and blue.

You clench around him even though you’re trying your damndest best not to. You want to last—want him to last, but you couldn’t help it. Never have you had a cock like his buried in you. It’s almost laughable how cockdrunk you are even when he hasn’t done much except touch the deepest depths of your pussy.

“You alright, darling?” Poe checks, running his thumb gently across your cheek. His voice is much softer, much more intimate. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No. Quite the opposite, actually,” you purr as you crane your neck to kiss him languidly, feeling his smile.

Soon, you’re rocking your pelvis shallowly into Poe, encouraging him to move. He lets out a broken moan at the sensation. He hooks his arm under your leg to grant himself better leverage, dropping his head to your shoulder, and begins thrusting in and out, then in and out.

Before requesting him to be gentle, you’d expect Poe— and yes, you’ve thought about what he was like in the sack, mainly because everyone did— to be frantic, brutal, and punishing. Mercilessly fuck you to a reckless oblivion. The bunk-breaking type of romp that would have immensely pissed off those living in proximity to your quarters.

This isn’t that. This isn’t what you had imagined, not for the very first time, at least. Poe’s pounding into you at a steady and smooth pace. It’s tender and gentle and slow, hitting all the right spots and a part of you believes that this is more than just a simple fuck for him. This is him showing that he does care about you. That he’s sorry for the constant fights and regrets being an asshole to you, for hurting you.

This is genuine— meant to be something much more profound. To convince you that you’re worth more to him than he had led you to think.

Once again, your assumptions about him have been proven wrong. Poe truly isn’t the man you thought you had all figured out.

And you start believing in it. You accept it from the way Poe holds you close, his chest flushed against yours as he whispers sweet praises into the shell of your ear. He’s gazing down at you with this dreamy, yearning look on his face, the kind that makes your heart swell and your cunt grips him like a vice. His soft groans blend harmoniously with your pitchy moans, and they meld with the wet sounds of skin on skin, echoing all throughout.

It’s beautiful. It’s obscene. Sensual, steamy, and provocative. You wanted more, needed more direly. You’re so close, dangerously teetering on the brink of another shattering orgasm. Poe is determined to push you over the edge a second time, ​​staving off his own release until you reach yours.

Your hands rove down Poe’s perspiring back, fingers lightly dancing along his spine before cupping the generous curves of his ass. A smirk tugs at Poe’s at the corner of his lips when you knead the fleshy cheeks into your palms possessively. You don’t have to tell him how much you love his derriere. You make no effort to hide your appreciation as you grope and massage him, catching his mouth in a feverish kiss that has your senses reeling.

“F-Fuck, Poe—I’m co- I’m coming…”

The heels of your feet replace your wandering hands, digging into Poe’s ass and urging him to fuck you faster, harder, deeper. And he complies so easily, hips snapping at a more frenzied pace as he brings his fingers down to rub at your clit. You toss your head back, quickly losing yourself to the overwhelming friction dragging against your slick walls, the ache in your core growing and spreading and burning. A fire scorching hot on the verge of being extinguished.

And when it does— when you fall apart at last— you dissolve into an all-consuming crescendo of pleasure. The pressure that has been building and building and building with each heavy slam of his cock suddenly snaps, triggering shockwaves to burst outwards.

At that moment, Poe is all that exists in the world. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but his touch, his scent, his voice. You barely realize how he’s riding out your climax for as long as he could, suppressing his desire to let go just to take in the way you crumble underneath him. For him.

You grow limp, boneless, and sate as the blissful quakes start to subside, your velvet walls pulsing and clamping down on Poe, whose control has now wholly slipped away.

“Where…shit— W-Where do you want it?” Poe sputters out, balls smacking against your pussy as his rhythm becomes messy, sloppy, and erratic. “W-Where?”

“Inside,” you croak before a strangled whimper tears from your throat at his fervent thrusts. “Come in me, Poe. It’s okay, do it, baby. I want you to come inside me—”

With one final piercing shove, Poe’s body goes rigid, spilling thick hot ropes of his cum deep inside you. You feel the warmth of it gushing into your spasming sex as you milk him dry and he’s stuttering forward, slowly pushing his seed as far as he can. His face contorts, eyes squeezing tightly shut and mouth slacking open to set free a wanton moan in the shape of your name.

The two of you are breathless. Spent, sticky, and sweaty as you regain steady heart rates and the oxygen in your lungs. Poe eventually pulls out his softening member and slumps to the side, careful not to crush you below. You whine at the loss of him— at the loss of his fullness that leaves you hollow and raw.

A warm mixture of his release and your juices dribbles out of you, cooling on your inner thighs. You don’t have it in you to wipe yourself up, and when Poe tries to after a minute, you wrap your arms around his neck and lock him in an embrace.

“Don’t,” you quietly plead with a soft kiss on his lips. “S’alright, just… stay.”

And stay, Poe does. He spoons you from behind, an arm draped over your waist while his legs tangled with yours. Poe nestles his face into your damp hair, his breath tickling the back of your neck as you hold his hand and twine your fingers together.

“Didn’t peg you as a cuddler, Two,” he murmurs dozily. “I like it.”

“Gotta preserve the heat, right?” You return cheekily, snuggling deeper into him as his warmth envelopes you.

This is nice, you muse. This feels nice.

You suppose that you like it, too.

Exhaustion washes over you. The stillness of the cavern, the crackling of the flames, and the calming sound of Poe’s exhales all lull you to sleep. You don’t know how long you’ll have until the sun rises and it’s daylight outside. Nor do you have any clue on what awaits you and him other than your rescue.

You’re overthinking everything again.

As if he could hear it happening, Poe tightens his arm around you, his nose grazing along the back of your shoulder before pecking a light kiss there.

“Sleep, sweetheart. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

This time, you listen.

And despite the lack of a comfy bed, you drift into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in a while with Poe by your side.

—

taglist will be in a reblog. let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader

[hanniluvi]

( 🎞️ ) LOVE EASILY CRUMBLES — TAEHYUN SHORT FIC

[ DAY FIVE ] of the advent calendar !

( 🎞️ ) SYNOPSIS . . how easy it is to lose love for a season.

( .𖥔 ݁ ) PAIRING . . classmate!taehyun x classmate!gn-reader

( 🎞️ ) GENRE . . fluff, angst | FT. K + NICHOLAS ( &TEAM )

( .𖥔 ݁ ) WARNINGS . . profanity, miscommunications, someone kinda being a douchebag, taehyun is kinda frustrating ngl bc he holds GRUDGESSS 😪 — WORD COUNT : 1.1K+ ( 1139 )

( 🎞️ ) NOTE . . omg is this the start of soph FINALLY working on smth for txt 😱?? LMAO trust i have been trying for the past months but the ideas never got finished so </3 so im def proud of myself for getting this out n finished for u guys 🤍

"Come on! Ask him out!" K whispered, nudging you in Kang Taehyun's direction.

"I can't do this right now! I'm nervous—seriously, calm down!" You attempted to hold your ground, even pushing back, but the inevitable draw towards your crush seemed unstoppable.

"Stop playing matchmaker at the moment!"

"You need to make a move! You both complement each other so well! You, the energetic one, and him, the quiet one—it's a perfect match, if you ask me!" After a final nudge from K, you found yourself right next to Taehyun, who was seated at his desk, engrossed in a book with earbuds in. Well, fuck.

Sensing your presence, your crush, Kang Taehyun, glanced up, his eyebrow arching in mild surprise. Cursing your nerves, you hastily fished out a folded piece of paper from your pocket. Placing it on his desk, you offered a fleeting smile before dashing away.

You locked eyes with K, shooting him a fierce glare. "K, you're in trouble."

"Hey! I helped you—" K's protest was cut short as you chased him out of the classroom, eliciting a yelp. "I'm sorry!"

Meanwhile, Taehyun observed the scene, a small smile gracing his lips at the commotion. Returning his focus to the piece of paper, he carefully unfolded it.

"Here’s my number: XXX-XXX-XXXX.

Let’s go out?"

Despite his typically reserved and aloof nature, Taehyun found himself smiling, a faint pink tint gracing his cheeks—an unfamiliar but welcome sensation for him.

"And then—holy shit!" You exclaimed, eyes widened as you stared at your phone screen. Your heart raced far faster than usual, but who wouldn't get excited over something like this? "He actually texted me!"

"Who?" Nicholas barely showed any reaction but was still curious about the source of your unexpected excitement. “The quiet loser?”

You playfully hit his arm, causing him to wince and rub the spot. “No need to diss my future boyfriend now.”

“Okay, now you're delusional—and your taste in men is terrible too?”

“Oh fuck off, Nicholas,” you retorted, your eyes fixed on your phone, a smile spreading across your face as you read Taehyun's messages.

Hey YN, it’s Taehyun.

So, where do you wanna go?

You quickly typed up a response, “There’s a lovely spot not too far from here. Beautiful trees and a bench made for two. Oh, and there's a chance of snow today! It could be the perfect moment…unless you're not a fan of snow?”

He read your messages, and at this point, you were practically biting your fingernails, hoping he shared your affection for winter. It was your favorite season, with its enchanting snow and the opportunity to wear layers of cozy clothing.

That sounds wonderful. I love the snow :)

When?

With a sense of relief, you quickly arranged for the date to happen today, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement when Taehyun agreed. "I can't believe I just set up a date."

“I still don’t know what you see in him.”

“Stop being a mood killer, Nicho.”

You were spot on—tonight, snowfall was abundant, and Taehyun faced biting winds that blew the snowflakes into his face. Extending his hand, the snowflakes delicately settled in his palm, melting at his touch. At least the snow was pretty today.

Glancing at the time on his phone—6 PM, precisely on schedule—he approached the location. It was indeed a charming sight. The lights cast a soft glow above the bench, creating an atmosphere purposefully crafted for a romantic encounter for two. A smile graced his face; everything seemed just perfect, tailored to his ideal kind of date.

Sitting down on the bench, he looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you at any moment. He waited.

And waited.

An hour had passed, and you hadn’t arrived. Taehyun was puzzled; where could you be? He was confident about the time—6 PM and the location you had chosen. His phone suddenly chimed, a notification he hoped was from you, but instead, it was a text from an unknown number.

You really think YN would go on a date with someone like you?

The text hit him like a ton of bricks.

She's popular, you're not. Why would she waste her time on a loser like you?

Doubt crept in, making his heart sink.

He felt a wave of nausea rising, his grip on the phone tightening, his fingers nearly turning numb. Did he raise his hopes for nothing? Did he really think that you were going to be different from the rest? The biting cold made it increasingly hard for him to catch his breath—how he despised the sensations coursing through him.

Nervously, his fingers hovered over your contact, finally pressing the call button. He didn’t know what he was doing, but it just felt like the right thing. Anxiously, he chewed on his lip while waiting on the line, and soon, he heard shuffling in the background. His eyes widened at how quickly you picked up the phone.

"Hey Taehyun?" Your voice sounded surprisingly calm on your end.

"Where are you?" he asked, trying to maintain composure, but the cold and wind were beginning to make him sound shaken up.

“I’m here with Nicholas—why do you ask?”

Taehyun should’ve known.

“So I’ve been waiting out here in the cold for no reason?”

“Huh?”

“The date you wanted to go on, YN. God, can you stop acting oblivious and tell me how you actually feel about me?” Taehyun feels the anger getting to him, his voice already rising.

“But the date is set to 8 PM? Wait, did I not tell you that?”

“That’s just a fucking excuse, isn’t it?”

“No, I thought I told you 8 PM? Oh my god—Taehyun, I’m so sorry. It’s a mistake, I swear!” You felt panicked, re-reading the text message you sent, realizing your mistake.

“Yeah right.” he just couldn’t help but chuckle at his situation.

“Taehyun, you have to believe me—” But he cut you off, “I already know how you feel. Thanks for playing with me—oh, and most important, thanks for ruining winter for me.”

“Wait—” But Taehyun hung up before you could continue. He had too many thoughts swirling in his head to deal with everything at that moment.

Taehyun sat alone on the snow-covered bench, the bitter cold seeping into him as he felt the disappointment and frustration swirl within. His emotions were a chaotic mess, a blend of anger, hurt, and the numbing chill of the winter night. The twinkling lights above seemed to mock his shattered hopes.

As he walked away, his shoulders weighed heavy with a mix of resentment and sorrow. Winter, once his beloved season, was now tarnished by this painful memory.

With a heavy heart, Taehyun knew this winter would forever hold a bitter taste, a season stained by a shattered promise and unfulfilled expectations.

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#⛄️ — advent calendar 23’ ! #k-labels #kflixnet #k-films #tomorrow x together #txt #txt taehyun #txt headcanons #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt drabbles #txt x reader #txt ff #taehyun headcanons #taehyun scenarios #taehyun imagines #taehyun drabble #taehyun x reader #taehyun ff #kpop #kpop headcanons #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #kpop ff #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop angst #txt angst #txt fluff

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 22: Rain, rain

The rain pours down all around, and drenching Dean to the bone, but it doesn’t matter. He has a relationship to salvage.

He keeps running, shoes and socks squelching, hair dripping in his face.

He skids to a stop on her street.

Shit, she’s already leaving. Her house is locked up tight, and her car looks packed to the gills. He’s too late, but he breaks out into a sprint anyway.

“Lis!” he calls, his voice lost to a boom of thunder.

He jogs closer, winded and out of breath. “Elise!” he bellows, and this time he gets her attention.

She jerks her head up, her large black umbrella nearly slipping out of her hands as she spots him. Her lips part in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t go.”

Her lips purse. “The deal’s done. I’ve signed a contract, and I can’t back out now.”

“Then let me go with you,” Dean says desperately.

Lisa clutches her umbrella like a lifeline. She takes a step back. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Dean swears. He pushes the water out of his eyes. “I’ve changed.”

“James…” Lisa says, her voice unsteady.

Dean steps closer. “Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?” Lisa murmurs, and he’s close enough to duck under her umbrella with her.

“Like we’re already over.”

“But we are,” she says, her voice shakier than ever.

Lightning flashes, a snapshot of them frozen in time.

Lisa swallows, licks her lips.

Dean leans forward. Nose-to-nose, he stares into her big brown eyes, letting the moment build, before he closes his eyes, pictures a very different face, and leans in for the climactic kiss.

“CUT!”

The rain stops, thank fuck.

Dean wiggles the fingers wrapped around Lisa’s waist, and she jerks back, giggling. 

She punches him in the arm, nearly taking you an eyeball with a stray umbrella spoke. “You jackass.”

“C’mon,” Dean says, grimacing as he pulls his nearly translucent tee shirt (the costume department made him model at least six different ones, to Dean’s embarrassment). “At least you don’t have to deal with this.”

Lisa raises her eyebrows. “Are you seriously trying to pull the I’m-literally-too-sexy-for-my-shirt card?”

Dean snorts. He waves to Cas, arguing with Gabriel by the screens showing the footage they just shot.

Cas mouths, “What?”

“Are we done?” he calls.

Cas rolls his eyes as Gabriel lifts his megaphone (he’s the only director Dean’s worked with that commits to that particular stereotype). “That’s a wrap for today, people!” he announces to Dean’s relief. “Castiel, you’re free to go home and warm your boyfriend up. He must be cold; just look at those ni–”

Cas wrests the megaphone from Gabriel, hissing, “I’m right next to you, for God’s sake!” 

Gabriel grins. “Have a good night, Cassie.”

Cas shoves the megaphone back at Gabriel and stalks towards Dean. 

“Hey,” Dean says, slinging a wet arm around Cas’s shoulders. “You make it too easy for him. He only does it ’cause it gets a rise out of you.”

Cas grumbles something highly offensive about Gabriel’s mother and a goat.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Lisa says, leaning in to kiss Cas on the cheek. “Have a good night.”

As she leaves, Cas grimaces. “He never makes fun of Lisa.”

“Because Lisa comes from a loaded family with a team of lawyers,” Dean says cheerfully. “But the closest you and Gabe got is your second-cousin Chuck, and nobody’s waiting for him to make his My Cousin Vinny debut.”

“Definitely not,” Cas agrees. “I hardly trust Chuck to bring an appropriate present to this year’s White Elephant.”

Dean scrunches up his face. “Didn’t he bring signed copies of his own books last time?”

Castiel sighs. “Poor Muriel was dead set on taking home that spice rack.” 

Dean ducks into Wardrobe to get changed and catches up with Pam as she lets him dry off and takes his wet clothes. After a quick wipe down to get the waterproof makeup off, he’s finally free. 

“I’m all yours,” Dean announces as he emerges in his usual flannel and jeans.

Cas looks up from checking emails on his phone. “How is it that you don’t get mad at Gabriel? He usually gets to me by getting to you.”

Dean shrugs. “Once you’ve had your exes compare the size of your actual dick in TMZ, the shit Gabe pulls really seems like small potatoes.”

“Oh,” Cas says quietly.

“And I did blow up at Gabriel, more than a few times,” Dean points out as they turn towards the parking lot behind the studio sets.

“I remember.” Cas frowns. “What changed?”

“You said it was okay to go public, and I knew you were in it for the long haul.” Dean fishes around in his pockets for his keys. “It was one thing when Gabe was poking fun at me, but when he’s shitting on us, it reminds me there’s an ‘us’ to shit on in the first place, and, in my book, that mostly makes up for it.”

Cas stills Dean’s hand on the Impala door. And, as Dean looks up in confusion, Cas crushes their mouths together.

Damn, this is what a real climactic kiss feels like.

#suptober22 #actor dean #producer castiel #celebrity au #established relationship #rae writes fic

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching Free to Be You and Me

Welcome to “Bert is to Ernie as Dean is to…: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

Up today, s5e3: Free to Be You and Me

Sam and Dean have gone their separate ways for now, and this episode splits time between the two as they each have their own adventures. Sammy is incognito and working as a bartender, doing his best to stave off the annoying advances of a coworker, who eventually finds out that people who try to get close to him get held at knifepoint by hurt-butt hunters mad at Sam for starting the apocalypse then quitting the biz (or worse - EXPELLED). Meanwhile Dean and Cas go looking for Raphael to pump him for info on where God ran off to, the whole time giving each other Looks and throwing all sorts of poorly-disguised gay references at each other. Just make out, already, yeesh. Turns out Raphael is 100% that d-bag and God’s nowhere to be found. Dean and Cas then have a heart-to-heart in Baby, during which Dean claims he’s happier without Sam around. Cas smells manure. More tortured loving glances. THEN, cut to Sammy dreaming about Jess, who turns out to be Lucifer trying to gaslight his best vessel. Lots of fraught going on here, folks.

Mace:

Oh Sammy, quit sulking about that tart

Lor:

LOLOLOLOL

Mace:

I have jealousy issues

oh LOOKIT HIM

Lor:

well I mean you ARE way better than Jess

RIGHT?

Mace:

I appreciate the support

Lor:

shuttup not!Jess

Mace:

YES

SHUT. IT.

AND QUIT CALLING HIM BABY

IT’S DUMB

oh Sammy.

pets him

Lor:

seriously, Jess. Baby is the car. WATCH THE SHOW

Mace:

oof hot and naked and crying I CANNOT

HAHAHAHA

Lor:

lol

oh I forgot this song is in the show. Jensen sings this a lot at cons

Mace:

interesting

this montage is so good

Lor:

omg lemons versus vamp blood

Mace:

and so is that shirt on Sam

Lor:

YES

YES

aw Dean taking care of his things

Mace:

HAHAHA boundaries Cas

Lor:

"Don't do that!" LOLOLOLOL

Mace:

“hello Dean”

“my apologies"

Lor:

"personal space" oh hush, you know you like him in your personal space

Mace:

RIGHT?!

Lor:

"can I have my damn necklace back, please"

Mace:

oh lookit him getting right back in that personal space

Lor:

TMN angel haaaaahahahaha

Mace:

AND THE LOOKS THEY’RE GIVING EACH OTHER

Lor:

YAS

Mace:

come on, people, HOW DO YOU NOT SEE THIS

Lor:

HE JUST COMPARED THEM TO THELMA AND LOUISE YOU'D HAVE TO BE BLIND

Mace:

they are both so pretty

RIGHT??!

Lor:

Right? and they look so good together

Mace:

and Dean keeps licking his lips

THEY DO

Lor:

WHAT WAS THE LOOK DEAN JUST GAVE HIM OMG

Mace:

“I DIDN’T POOP FOR A WEEK”

Lor:

lololololol

Mace:

Dean just wants roadtrip time with Cas

Lor:

YES

Mace:

stop flirting with my stringbean, bitch

Lor:

RIGHT? even if you do have a cute smile

yes, barman grandpa, it does seem like the end of the world

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

HE'S FIXING HIS TIE LIKE HE'S HIS WIFE

Mace:

YESYESYESYES

Lor:

"that's how you become president" lololol ow

Mace:

YES

THE BADGE MEME

Lor:

omg fixing the ID

YAAAAAS

Mace:

I LOVE YOU CAS YOU BUT WALNUT

Lor:

YES

Mace:

*big (But I’m okay letting but(t) stand)

Lor:

LOLOL

"pump and go" do they do this shit on purpose? they must

Mace:

HAHAHAHA

the DEMONS…DEMONS…DEMONS OMG

Lor:

"we all have our demons" lololol Dean

no, Kolchak

Mace:

“thank you” and the look

HAHAHAHA

Lor:

YES

Mace:

“jumps my bones” COME ON

Lor:

YEP

Mace:

omg Bobby’s snark

Lor:

I LOVE WHEN BOBBY DADS THEM

Mace:

YES

Lor:

"arid" I LOVE HIM

Mace:

YES

he brought Dean…oil…special oil...

omg Dean is using the last night on earth line HOW IS THIS NOT ON PURPOSE

Lor:

he is this close to giving him the "last night on earth" line

HAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

BERT AND ERNIE ARE GAY

Mace:

oh he’s had occasion, but he’s been waiting for Dean

Lor:

YAAAAAAS

Mace:

I MEAN COME THE FUCK ON

Lor:

HOW is that RELEVANT, DEAN? UNLESS

Mace:

RIGHT?!

Lor:

What the HELL would be wrong with "Keith Samuel"?

Mace:

right?

bitch, butt OUT

Lor:

i mean I wouldn't PICK it, but it's not BAD?

Mace:

agreed, esp with the package it’s labeling

Lor:

God that SHIRT

YES

Mace:

YES

READ THE ROOM, HAG

NO MEANS NO, BITCH

Lor:

RIGHT?

look, Dean, when you told him he wasn't gonna die a virgin, he was hoping for someone else

Mace:

RIGHT?!

he’s all mussed I CANNOT

Lor:

"this whole industry runs on absent fathers" you would know, Dean

RIGHT?

Mace:

RIGHT?!?@?@?!?!?!

“years…” oh honey

Lor:

oooof

you DO mean to pry stop it

Mace:

all you’ve been doing is prying you stupid horse

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

LOL

nnnnnngggggg his deep ass voice speaking whatever that is. Enochian I guess?

Mace:

part fake Latin part nonsense

but yeah the voice is quality

Lor:

I have an advantage here in that none of it meant anything to me

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

"I thought you were supposed to be impressive" DEAN

"by the way, hi, I'm Dean" OMG

Mace:

NICE

DED

Lor:

all casual taking a beer and then turning around and GLUGGING it because he's actually terrified

Mace:

YES

Lor:

THEY HAD A PLAN I LOVE THEM

Mace:

YES

Lor:

"don't look at me, it was his idea" and then the look to Cas like "sorry, hon"

Mace:

HAHAHAHA

Lor:

look, dude, demons ain't new

Mace:

it’s not his fault you’re incompetent at your job, idiot

HAHAHA

Lor:

lol

RIGHT?

Mace:

Meh, knife her, we don’t care

Lor:

okay, she's a pain, but hunters taking civilians hostage at knifepoint? come on, dillweeds

HA!

Mace:

Yeah

Lor:

look Raphael, if you think the 20th century was worse than all the rest of history, you have not been paying attention

Mace:

Daddy ran away- so angels are all prostitutes?

Lor:

"he didn't happen to work at the post office did he?”

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

LOLOLOL

LORD he looks good

Mace:

YES HE DOES

Lor:

omg lookit Cas and Dean all rain spattered

Mace:

YES

Lor:

"but today you're my little bitch" DED

"what he said" HAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Mace:

WHAT HE SAID AHAHAHAHA

Lor:

mmmmmrrrg little peek at his back

Mace:

YES

but wtf is wrong with these a-holes?

Lor:

RIGHT?

Mace:

why can’t everybody just leave my Sam alone?!

Lor:

seriously

he does look kinda hot with blood all over his face though

Mace:

he really does

and all pissed

Lor:

YES

Mace:

oh so EVERYONE is a prostitute in this episode, then

Lor:

"who cares what some ninja turtle says, Cas. what do YOU believe?"

LOLOLOLOLOLOL

Mace:

YES

Lor:

oh Dean

Mace:

knocks him upside

Lor:

"and you're not that much fun"

you're not ALONE you DOPE you're with Cas

Mace:

right?

Lor:

oh ope. careful what you wish for, Chucklehead

Mace:

HA

Lor:

SAM WINCHESTER YOU ARE NOT THIS DUMB

Mace:

right?!

oh hey, Luci

oh god that tatt peeking out of his shirt

Lor:

RIGHT?

I LOVE THIS WHOLE STUPID SET UP SO MUCH

Mace:

YES

Lor:

they are PLAYING this as homoerotic and it still doesn't hold a candle to Cas and Dean just, like, standing next to each other

Mace:

NOPE

ooof. shit’s gettin’ real.

Lor:

YAAAAAS

#watchingspnagain #watchingspnagain 5x03 #spn #supernatural #spn meta #spn spoilers #spn 5x03 #watchingspnagain angels #watchingspnagain dean jokes #watchingspnagain nnggg #watchingspnagain sam's blood drinking

[stone-stars]

I edited together the clips of the NADDPod cast talking about fan reactions/backseat gaming from fans on the short rest this week because I feel like it’s something more people should hear.

Transcript:

Murph: So I don’t- I don’t venture into the comments very often-- Caldwell: Oooh, shit Murph: --because I try to, um, y’know, stay sane. [Emily laughs] But I thought-- I was like, you know what? The characters have joined the rebellion, there’s gonna be lots of fun discussion about, y’know, like-- oh, so cool that they’re about Mothership and all this stuff, like... things are picking up!

[The audio cuts forward-- Emily is in the middle of laughing as it picks back up, and continues to laugh in the background as Murph speaks] Murph: The top discussion of the episode, by far, is how bullshit the Callie Finale is. How unbalanced it is. That is the TOP thing. And-- Caldwell, quietly: What the fuck? Emily: Well, the funny thing is, I-- Callie Finale hadn’t come out yet, but I had seen how people were already complaining about Doom Blade, and I got rid of all my-- I got rid of my two homebrew spells. [All overlapping] Murph: Yeah, Emily threw out her christmas present Emily: No more fucking-- Murph: So you guys won. Caldwell: Are you fucking happy? Jake: You guys ruined fucking christmas. Murph: You ruined christmas. You ruined christmas. Emily: I mean Jake gets to-- Jake-- [The others stop talking, and it’s just Emily.] Jake still has access to them because I know that you will not hold him to the same fuckin standard that you hold me. Murph: It’s true. Yeah. 1,000 points of damage Hardwon is fine. Emily: And in fact, if there had been a Calder finale, you all would’ve been like-- Murph: It would’ve been fine. [Overlapping, sarcastically.] Emily: Aww, so much growth. Caldwell: Such growth. Murph: Such growth. So powerful. Emily: I’m so proud of this boy who has literally been playing as much [laughs] D&D as the girl. Murph: Lemme continue my beef of the week-- Emily: So it’s all gone. No more-- Caldwell: Oh we’re halfway through the fillet. Murph: They’re all gone. They’re all gone. The beef of the week will continue though. The beef continues. [Murph on his own, more seriously.] So I agree that getting 30 HP from it was too much. I would not have done that again. ‘Cause that’s what happens. You make judgement calls. Caldwell: Are you saying that a DM can... change rulings? After an episode? Murph: I’m saying that just ‘cause I said it the one time does not mean we’re going to cheese and fucking break the game fo-- like, I have a hundred and forty some odd episodes out there. And people somehow, still, I need to prove myself every week that I’m not a dumbass. Every week people are like “this is the end of the show I guess. I guess he just gave her something where she just gets 40 HP for free!” No. No. What are you talking about? [Caldwell, Emily, and Jake laugh in the background as Murph speaks.] Caldwell: I’m wondering if I could join the beef real quick?

[The audio cuts again, once again picking up as Emily is in the middle of laughing. She continues to laugh as Caldwell speaks.] Caldwell: There were people like-- criticizing Callie for like-- sexualizing Sol? And like, speculating that I was uncomfortable with it?? [Everyone laughs.] Murph, incredulous: Speculating that you were uncomfortable?! [Overlapping; Murph’s following lines are said at a yell, distant from the microphone so it’s not overwhelmingly loud.] Murph: You got fucked through a bag?! You have had sex. On this show. Through a BAG. Caldwell: Dog, I-- Let me just say right now, I am 35. I have a mortgage. Murph: This is a FROG. Caldwell: I own a RAV-4. I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me. Murph, more quietly: Oh my god. Jake: Woah you own that RAV-4?

[The audio cuts forward again.] Jake: --The idea that like, we’re suffering at the table when we record, the four of us, and it’s up to the audience at the end of the week to be like-- Murph: --to decide if-- Emily: --to protect Jake and Caldwell? Jake: --”hey I noticed, actually”-- like, we’re totally good. Caldwell: We’re fine. Murph: Yeah, this is an edited-- Jake: I’m having the time of my life. The happiest I am is after-- is like-- either right after or during our recording sessions. Murph: Yeah, we’re just buds, guys. Emily: We are just really good friends having a lot of fun with like, a deep mutual respect. And that’s why the show is fun to make. And that’s why you don’t need to protect them. Murph: The beef-- Caldwell: I feel like all the comments should just be like-- “Wow, check out these buds!” Murph: Yeah: check out the buds!

End of Transcript.

#naddpod #ba2mia #short rest #not another dnd podcast #all i edited out were chunks of them goofing around #to hear the goofs you gotta subscribe to short rest lol #but this is stuff more people should hear #because my god #despite the fact that they're saying this lightheartedly this is bullshit #naddclips

[quillquiver]

white elephant

destiel fluffy xmas proposal fic! haven’t posted anything in ages but am working on a couple things, so hopefully you’ll be seeing more of me in the new year :D

They’re on their second round of white elephant when Sam finally chooses Dean’s gift. He’s been manipulating the choices all evening; everyone’s always shifty when they play this, so it wasn’t too hard; a wide-eyed look here, seemingly cut-off exclamation there, and Sammy’s tearing through twelve layers of wrapping paper until the clippers and scissors come into view.

“Seriously, Dean?” He gives a half-hearted glare and pushes the mountain of wrapping paper aside.

Dean grins. “Figured Eileen’d need to shear you in the spring.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fuck off.”

“I’m just happy you picked it. Woulda been real sad if you chose the wrong one with only two left.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Sam mumbles. He isn’t pushing back as hard as Dean expected, but Dean has been ragging on the hair since Sam was a teenager. “Okay, open the last one.”

Dean snorts. “Uh, no.”

“What d'you mean, no? Dude, it’s the last one! You gotta take it!”

Dean shakes his head. “Nope, see, I got my eye on that bag of sick dice Charlie’s been pretending she’s not holding.”

“Steal limit's up, handmaiden." Charlie smiles sweetly. “But don’t worry, you can come to my place and look at ‘em any time you like.”

“Cute. But Eileen from Benny, you from Eileen is two, genius. So I’ll be takin’ my dice, please.”

“Dean, come on, I really like these.”

“And you can come to my place and look at ‘em any time you like,” Dean grins.

“Seriously? It’s Christmas!”

“Brother, just let ‘er keep ‘em,” Benny says.

“Yeah, you don’t know what’s in the other gift,” Eileen reasons.

Cas nods. “It could be something even better."

“Or it could be my brother trying to get back at me.” Dean narrows his eyes. “I know it’s not cool dice.”

“Dude, how would I get back at you for something I didn’t even know you did?” Sam asks. "I wouldn’t have opened the clippers if I knew."

“Besides, Ken Doll, Queen of the Nerds already called dibs,” Meg says.

“And don’t you already have a large and useless collection of dice?” Balthazar asks.

Dean makes a face. “So does she!”

Jo rolls her eyes. “Dean, seriously, stop being a baby."

Across the circle, Crowley sighs. “It seems you’ve been out-voted, Squirrel.”

“Fuck all of you, seriously, since when is this game a vote?” He grabs the tiny package and starts tearing into it, muttering profanity when the tape sticks. The black velvet box is small and Dean has his money on some kind of piercing-related gag gift until he opens the thing. “What the hell is this? The fuck am I supposed to do with an empty—"

But when he looks up, everyone is grinning at him like they’re insane.

“What?”

And then he sees Cas.

Cas beside him. On one knee. Kneeling beside him. Cas on one knee right beside him.

Holding a ring.

It takes a second for Dean to actually understand what’s happening, and by then Cas is saying shit like, I know we’re not big on public displays of affection and, we got together during one of Charlie’s game nights so I thought this an apt setting, and then, I’ve got something written out for you when we’re alone but the gist of it is:

Dean, will you marry me?

Dean kisses him. Or—he tries to kiss him. He turns and launches himself at Cas with the intention of kissing the crap out of him, but they both go sprawling and they’re too smiley to kiss, anyway. Despite the fact that Dean’s a sure thing, Cas is sweating so hard through his gaudy Christmas sweater he’s giving off heat. Huffing a laugh, he noses along Cas’s jaw until he manages to reach his ear, and despite all the noise and all the yelling the entire world narrows to Dean’s fuck yeah and the smiley half-kisses that follow.

Thing wrap up not long after, and soon enough Dean is lazily digging through his bedside table drawer, sweaty and sated as Cas looks at him quizzically from across the pillow. “Dean, are you—?”

Swallowing thickly, Dean produces his own little velvet box and places it on the bed between them. Hi voice shakes when he talks: “Kinda pissed you did it first,” he says.

Cas’s eyes soften despite his widening smile. “It was clever, though.”

“Yeah yeah… so what d’you say?”

“To marrying you?”

“Yeah, genius, to marrying me.”

Gingerly, Castiel takes the ring from the box and slips it onto his ring finger. He extends his arm in front of him. Shrugs. “…Do you think Charlie would be willing to trade? I really wanted those dice.”

Dean tackles him. Cas yelps. It doesn’t really matter who kisses whom, only that they end the night spooned, rings clinking together as their fingers tangle. “Love you,” Cas mumbles, nosing at the back of Dean’s neck.

Dean squeezes their hands.

#destiel fic #fluff #white elephant #xmas #christmas #marriage proposal #proposal fic #adventures in fanfic

[kiridarling]

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒.

katsuki bakugou | birthday gone wrong (aha), f!reader, baker!reader, pro hero!katsuki, blizzards, angst and smut, exhibitionism, cockwarming, begging, confessions. minors dni!

— 4.7k words

Wanna blow off some steam?

“Surprise!”

Katsuki jumps ten feet high, and the plastic grocery bags precariously balanced on each finger tear without a second thought. Apples hit the ground with a thud and the egg carton with a depressing slap; one that signifies the crack of at least half a dozen. Katsuki looks at the crowd, red-faced and livid, and Eijirou Kirishima intercepts the awkward silence with:

“Happy Birthday Bakubro! I know y—“

“Said that I didn’t want a fuckin’ party?” Katsuki growls, groceries forgotten on the forgotten. Eijirou looks guilty and chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“W-Well, yeah, but—“

“Everybody out.”

People sigh, and you think you hear Denki whisper told you he’d kick us out. You hate to say that you foresaw a similar outcome. Katsuki’s never been one for people.

Especially you.

“Awe come on, Kacchan,” Izuku says with hands on his hips. “We came all this way! Just let us stay for a little bit.”

“Yeah!” Eijirou seems to cheer up once given a sliver of hope. “Plus, we got cake and stuff. And Just Dance.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, but you know better—he’s always had a soft spot for the redhead. You all wait with baited breath, wondering if this entire evening was a bust, as Katsuki weighs his options in a pool of fallen groceries.

“One hour.”

Eijirou gasps so hard he chokes, and Katsuki’s generosity earns him applause from the audience. (Plus whoops and hollers from Denki and Mina.)

“And I mean it—y’all have sixty fuckin’ minutes before you’re gone without a goddamn trace. Kapeesh?”

“Kapeesh!”

Katsuki sighs, rubbing at his temples as he steps over the mess at the front door. You assume he’ll make Eijirou clean it up. “Whatever. Where’s the fuckin’ cake?”

Ah.

“In the kitchen, my good sir!” Denki says as he ushers the ash-blond into the said kitchen, the rest of the party hot on their heels. Eijirou grabs the cake from the fridge and you’re tense until the plate hits the marble of their island.

“Flavor?” Katsuki asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, I dunno, [Y/N] made it,” Eijirou throws you under the bus, just like that, and you want to scoff at the way Katsuki freezes—if only for a moment. Eijirou’s oblivious as ever, “[Y/N]?”

“It’s red velvet,” you say, trying not to burn under Katsuki’s carmine eyes. You don’t know why he doesn’t look away.

“Frosting?”

“Buttercream.”

As if you’d give him anything else.

Eijirou tries his best to cram 26 candles into the cake before being forced to opt for 23 lest he ruin your decorations. Denki presses him to make a wish and Katsuki rolls his eyes as he blows out the candles. Eijirou wipes an invisible tear because ‘his boy is getting so old.’ Mina and Jiro cut the cake and people seem to enjoy it, and you think that maybe, reuniting with your high school friends after so long isn’t as bad as you thought it’d be.

Even if he said he never wanted to see you again.

“—due to the incoming blizzard, we highly suggest all those who reside in the red and orange zones stay inside until it passes; which should be around ten am tomorrow morning.”

You spoke too soon.

Katsuki turns to the crowd, and you know what he’s going to say before his lip curls.

“Out.”

“Kacchan, don’t be unreasonable!” Izuku says from his comfortable position on the couch. “We’d get caught in the storm if we leave now.”

“Not if you’re fuckin’ fast enough,” Katsuki growls, pulling the greenette’s to his feet by his hair. “Get out, I’m not bunking with you fuckers overnight.”

“Dude,” Denki points to the window, and if you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought the blizzard had already started. “If we leave now, we’ll literally die.”

“Die, then.”

Eijirou sighs, clapping his roommate on the back. “C’mon, man. You know we ca—“

There’s a whirr then a click, and the lights and tv die at once. You can’t see a thing but you definitely hear Katsuki shout:

“Motherfucker!”

Eijirou turns his phone flashlight on first; Katsuki’s busy angrily flicking at the light to no avail. You sigh, turning to the ash-blond (and ignoring those ugly fucking butterflies in your stomach.)

“It’s a blackout Katsuki. The lights aren’t going to work.”

“Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that, dumbass?” And your chest tightens because even though he’s not eighteen anymore, he sounds the same—but you aren’t sure why you expected him to sound so different either.

You lift an eyebrow (not that he can see it), “It doesn’t look like you do.”

Denki snorts at that, hollering about how you just owned the ash-blond as Katsuki yells at him to shut the fuck up. It’s...familiar and comfortable, like you’re all in high school again, before you had to worry about your friends dying in their line of work because you couldn’t be there with them.

Before you got injured.

“Well I mean, we have a few blankets,” Eijirou offers, and as your eyes slowly adjust to the dark, you’re convinced you see his figure cross the living room. “And like, sweatshirts if it gets too cold.”

“It’s already getting too cold,” Mina says, and you can’t help but agree. The quickly cooling room has the goosebumps raising on your shoulders, and you’re starting to regret forgetting your jacket at home.

“Okay! I don’t have that many, but,” Eijirou hollers from somewhere, before returning with a handful of cloth. He drops it onto the coffee table. “Plus Hanta and Denks left their hoodies here last time.”

“Oh shit, we did?” Hanta says, and you assume it’s his figure who starts digging through the clothes. “Totally thought I lost this, lol.”

“Did you just saw lol out loud?”

“I did.”

“Ooh Ei, do you still have that old Red Riot hoodie?” Mina asks, and all of a sudden, she’s all over the pile. She finds it before the redhead can answer and snatches it away with a gasp.

You watch the pile dissolve in the darkness, one by one, and by the time you reach for something, your palm hits the cool wood of the coffee table. Fuck.

“Oh [Y/N]! Do you need some of my blanket?” Mina offers, but the blanket is small, and wrapping it around both of your shoulders just renders it utterly useless. You shake your head after she tries for a while.

“It’s fine Mina, I’m not that cold,” you laugh, but she shakes her head vehemently.

“No! Girl c’mon, you look like you’re freezing!”

And, well. Freezing is a stretch. Sure, you’re a little cold, but you’ll live.

“Do you need my sweatshirt?” Eijirou asks, already pulling at the hem. You roll your eyes.

“I’m serious guys, it’s not that bad,” you say, waving your arms for emphasis. They all grumble but they give up, and you feel like you can finally relax.

Something soft and army green drops into your lap. You pick it up in confusion, before looking up to see who dropped it.

Katsuki looks down at you, face glowing white from the phone flashlights. His eyes pierce your soul nevertheless.

“I don’t ne—“

“Take it.”

Katsuki takes a seat next to you on the couch in his own hoodie. You don’t realize until you put it on that he gave you a sweatshirt themed after his own hero costume.

You can’t sleep.

You can’t sleep, and you’re sure it’s due to the temperature. The wind howls and it sounds like you’re in the eye of a tornado, loose branches knocking against the rattling glass, and upon looking through the window, you see nothing but stark white. You sigh, checking the time on your phone for the fiftieth time this hour. Yep. Still four am.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’, dumbass.”

You all decided to bunk in the living room for warmth. You’re surprised Katsuki stayed, though; you figured he would just head to his room and let you all fend for yourselves while he slept in a comfortable bed. But here he is, sleeping next to you on the cold fucking floor.

“Sorry,” you say, but it’s hard when your shivering and your jaw aches from stunting your chattering teeth. Katsuki and Eijirou only had a limited amount of sleeping bags, meaning you’ve got to share a blanket with the hulking ash-blond.

“You cold?” He grunts. You don’t know why he’s asking.

“No.”

Katsuki sighs, and you hear him adjust, the blanket sliding from your neck to your shoulder. “You’re a shit liar.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows to glare his way, and you look to notice Katsuki’s laying the same way.

“What’s your point?”

Katsuki doesn’t answer for a moment, but it doesn’t seem like he’s looking for an answer, either—his neon red eyes glow through the dark and straight into your soul, and the next time you shiver, it isn’t because of the temperature.

“You’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, “Thought you figured that out senior year.”

Katsuki’s face flashes with an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint before it’s gone again. “Yeah. You’d think almost dying would fuckin’ fix that.”

You sigh. Looks like you’re having this conversation now, then.

“I didn’t almost die—“

“Yes, you fuckin’ did,” Katsuki snarls, and Denki almost stirs at his raised tone. “You took that bullet and you didn’t get up for months—“

“And then I woke up and everything was fine! Seriously Katsuki, what’s your problem? I lived.”

“My problem is that you shouldn’t have been there in the goddamn first place!” Katsuki says through grit teeth. You watch his temple roll underneath his hairline. “That was my fuckin’ fight. I don’t need some chick jumping in front of a bullet for me just ‘cause she thinks I can’t take it!”

You scoff, looking around to see if any of your other sleeping friends are listening because get a load of this guy. Naturally, they don’t respond.

“That’s what this is about? Oh, well I’m sorry I bruised your dignity because I didn’t want to see you get fucking shot!”

Katsuki chest inflates with disbelief before it deflates again, and he’s rolling his eyes before he says, “That’s not—you fuckin’ know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh really?” You laugh, and goddammit Katsuki, you just had to bring it up, didn’t you? “Because waking up after two months to your best friend telling you to give up doesn’t preserve your dignity at all, huh?”

“I didn’t tell you to fu—“

“You said those exact words, Katsuki. You said give up, and you left the hospital.”

The ash-blond has nothing to say to that, because he knows that you know you’re right, and trying to jedi mind trick you into believing he isn’t an asshole won’t work.

“Well you fuckin’ listened,” he grumbles, more to himself than you, but enough emotion flares in your core to make you want to scream.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say, huffing, before turning your back to him, deeming this conversation over. “Good night, Katsuki.”

There’s a lull and it has you convinced you’ve won, finally relaxing (as much as you can) onto the cold floor. At least arguing heated your blood up a bit.

“The fuck do you mean?”

You roll your eyes even though they’re closed before you hop back onto your forearms to give the ash-blond a nasty look. “What?”

“You...said you didn’t have a choice,” Katsuki says, and it’s the first time you think you’ve heard him sound weary. Unsure. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means I had to give up on being a hero either way.”

Which sucked. Because you had spent the past four years of your life working your ass off to save others, and you wind up out of commission before you even got started. You...suppose you didn’t tell Katsuki the whole story. Well, you hadn’t had a chance to—today’s the first time speaking with him since you woke up in the hospital.

Katsuki eyes you out of his peripheral, but only for a second. “And that means...?”

“It means that if I land on my spine the wrong way, there’s a high chance I’ll be paralyzed from the waist down.” You growl, frustrated that it was easier to coax the truth out of you than you thought.

The bullet buried close to your spinal column. You had to do PT for months, relearning how to walk as you slowly regain your motor functions. That’s when you started to bake.

“Oh.”

The howling of the wind turns from somewhat soothing to aggravating as Katsuki’s unimpressive “oh” hangs heavy in the air, and you find yourself sighing, the puzzle pieces finally clicking in your head. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Katsuki asks—he’s still not looking at you.

“Blaming yourself,” you gesture to his figure, which is lax with depression, lacking its sturdiness and usual fire. “You didn’t shoot the gun.”

Katsuki snorts at that, running a hand through his hair, “I might as well.”

“Stop.”

“You got shot because of me,” Katsuki says as if it were a fact. “They were trying to kill me. Not you.”

“And they didn’t kill me. I’m here and you’re here. If I hadn’t been there, you’d be six feet under right now,” you reason. Katsuki shrugs because he’s just as stubborn as you are, and you figure he’s been carrying around this baggage for too many years.

“Does your back hurt often?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean sure, I get flare-ups sometimes, but it’s not too bad. Doesn’t really get in the way of baking as long as the table is high enough.”

Katsuki thinks for a moment, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “Is the table high enough? At your café.”

You shrug, failing to see where he’s going with this. “I have a platform thingy, so. It’s mostly for decorating cakes and things—“

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“What?”

“I’ll buy you a new table,” Katsuki says, nodding to himself as if he was confirming the idea. “A higher one.”

It takes a second for his offer to process, but once it does, you’re fighting a smile. Still the same kid. “Kats, I don’t nee—“

“An—And if you need a new chair. I’ll pay for that shit too.”

You shake your head—mainly in disbelief, “I don’t need a chair, Katsuki.”

“Then what?” He asks, and it almost sounds desperate with the speed he rushed the sentence, “Y’need a car? That hunk of junk you drive could use some work.”

You ignore the jab, because your car works perfectly fine thank you very much, and snort at the suggestion of such an outrageous purchase.

“What? You tryna be my sugar daddy or something?” You joke. Katsuki gives you a look, and it's dead serious.

“D’ya need one?”

“I—no!” You laugh, and have to remind yourself to reel it in before you actually wake Denki up. “I’m fine financially I just—what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothin’.” Katsuki quickly grumbles, facing forwards again. “I just...”

You raise an eyebrow, “You just..?”

“I dunno. I dunno,” Katsuki shakes his head. You let him gather his thoughts in silence before he tries again. He doesn’t.

“Then fuck me.”

In your defense, your mouth moved before you thought it through.

Katsuki has an unreadable look on his face, but his voice is anything but steady when he says, “What?”

Fuck. Fuck.

“U-Uh, I mean,” you recoil. Stupid big mouth. “I—you—don’t worry about it.”

“You said you wanted to fuck me,” Katsuki deadpans. You choke.

“I—no, that’s not—“

“That’s exactly what you said.”

“No, I meant as in I’m pent up. Obviously,” you defend with a huff, crossing your arms on the pillow as you glare daggers his way. Katsuki matches your stare.

“Not as pent up as a Pro Hero,” he scoffs, lifting an eyebrow. You take it as a challenge.

You click your tongue in faux pity, “Awe, the number two hero Dynamight doesn’t get laid?”

“No fuckin’ time,” he grunts, though you don’t find much remorse in his voice.

“Well, you have time now,” you say, completely unsure of where this confidence is coming from. Either way, you’ll take it and run.

“I do,” Katsuki confirms, leaning in closer. He’s close enough that you can smell what’s leftover of his cologne, and see the hint of a grin that makes his upper cheek shine silver in the moonlight. You find yourself leaning in just as much as he does.

“Wanna blow off some steam?” You dare to question. Katsuki’s grin only grows wider.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Katsuki’s kisses are surprisingly soft, you think, and so are his lips. But you don’t have much time to think about it as he pulls you in by the waist, quietly groaning into your mouth while he lays you down on your back.

“Always thought you were the prettiest fuckin’ thing,” he growls, trailing butterfly kisses down your neck. “‘M gonna make it up to you, yeah? Make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

A hand hikes his sweatshirt above your chest before Katsuki’s latching onto the skin under your collarbone and sucking, teeth digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

“Y-Yeah, that’s fine,” you whimper, intoxicated by the way Katsuki’s lips flush pink as he pulls away, eyes locked on the fresh hickey on your chest. They flicker up to you; he grins.

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

Katsuki hums at that, licking his lips before diving back in. You hiss when he bites too hard, prompting him to bite harder, but he always soothes it over with his tongue, topping each bruise with a kiss. You flinch when his lips wrap around your nipple and he chuckles at your meek whimper; a hand removes its grip on the sweatshirt in favor of sliding it up your thigh.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Katsuki says once he pulls away, enjoying the sight of you writhing in anticipation. “And it’s all for me, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, ‘m all yours just—“ you kick a leg in frustration at the thumb playing with the hem of your panties, “—do something already.”

Katsuki raises an eyebrow, “Do what?”

You frown, huffing, “You know what.”

Katsuki shrugs, adjusting so he’s caging you to the floor. Ghosting a thumb over your panties, he says, “‘Course I do. You gotta ask nicely first.”

You tighten your hands into fists. He would.

“I’m no—“

“Beg, Princess,” Katsuki growls, his stare unwavering. He presses an inquisitive finger to your clit through your panties either as a promise or a threat—which, you’re not quite sure.

You crumble.

“I—fine, just—finger me.”

Katsuki doesn’t move. Asshole.

“Please.”

The ash-blond grins, finally pushing your panties to the side.

“Good girl.”

When Katsuki slides his first finger in, it’s much too easy, and you blame it on the foreplay. You shudder, hands moving to brace themselves on his big shoulders, and the ash-blond muffles a moan as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Another,” you moan, bucking your hips into his palm. Katsuki’s heated gaze flickers from your body to your face.

“Already?” He chuckles, the rasp in his throat giving his arousal away. You nod—he clicks his tongue.

“Fuckin’ dirty.”

Two fingers feel like so much more than just one, and they have your eyebrows folding in a poor attempt to muffle a whimper. Katsuki’s fingers still move tentatively but they’re getting comfortable, curling and searching for that place that’ll make you tremble. And then he finds it.

“F-Fuck,” your body jolts, and Katsuki’s shushing you against the pillows.

“Keep your mouth shut, Princess,” he purrs, head dipping down to nip at your neck. It adjusts the angle ever so slightly, but enough to make you hiss, and he chuckles. “Unless you wanna get caught.”

“Oh yeah, because that sounds fun right now,” you snort towards the ceiling. Katsuki pulls away with an unimpressed look as his thumb comes down over your clit.

“Can’t wait to fuck the brat outta ya. Maybe then you’ll actually shut up for once, huh?” Katsuki inserts a third finger without you asking him to, and you gasp, clawing at his back.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he laughs against your mouth lowly, as if the light kisses will do anything but make more noise, “Good God sweetheart, you’re really pent up, aren’t ya?”

“Shit—I doubt you’re much better,” you try, scoffing at what you can see of his painfully hard cock in his sweatpants. Katsuki looks down before sending a huff your way, with a cute little blush dusted on his cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, pulling out his fingers. You whine at the loss. “How d’ya want me to fuck you?”

You need to take a step back from how crude the question is. Right, sex.

“Right um,” you look around, trying to find the least obvious position—and one that doesn’t make a shit ton of noise. Laying on your side, you tuck an arm under the pillow, before turning around to Katsuki to suggest, “Cuddle-fucking?”

“Cuddle-fucking.”

“Yep,” you say with finality, popping the p. Making big grabby hands his way, you say, “C’mere, big guy.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but moves behind you anyways, warm arms easily finding themselves around your waist under the blanket. After a few adjustments and ensuring you're both fully covered, Katsuki’s hard cock presses against your entrance as he hooks his head over your chin with a huff.

“This is so not on fuckin’ brand.”

“I don’t think fucking in a living room with sleeping friends is on-brand for a pro hero or a baker,” you say casually. Katsuki breaks out into a snort, pressing his face deeper into your neck.

“God, I fuckin’ missed you, ya know that?” He chortles. Your chest blooms with something it hasn’t in years, and for the first time, you find that you don’t mind.

“Don’t be such a dick and maybe I’ll stick around this time,” you quip with a smile he can’t see. Though you feel his against the base of your neck.

“Noted.”

Katsuki’s last words hang in the air, unusually heavy, and your eyes catch the snow beating against the window with a less than angry howl. Katsuki’s chest shudders against your back but he doesn’t move, hands frozen at your waist.

“Hey, I thought you were gon—“

“I’m getting to it,” Katsuki snaps, and you gasp as he starts to push inside. “So fuckin’ impatient, goddamn.”

He pulls you down until he fills you completely, and you suppress the urge to shout at the speed he did it with. Katsuki moves a hand to slap over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You reach around to pinch him in the side with a huff, he calls you a bitch. It’s a little hard to hear you behind his hand as you say, “Then don’t catch me off guard like that, asshole.”

Katsuki snaps his hips and does exactly what you tell him not to do—prompting another surprised whine out of you and a dark chuckle from the ash-blond. His cheek presses into your jaw as he finds leverage in hiking your lower half up until your puffy cunt is level with his cock, and fucking you until you drool all over the pillow.

“What a pretty fuckin’ thing,” Katsuki grunts, and you can tell he struggles to keep quiet in the way his chest sporadically shudders. You have to grip the pillow for some semblance of purchase and Katsuki chuckles at watching you struggle, before he’s hiking your leg up to fuck you that much deeper.

“I always—always knew you’d sound so good,” he pants, the grip around your mouth bordering on clammy. You want to tell him that if he keeps making so much noise he’ll wake up everyone in this fucking room, but there isn’t much time between moans to get more than a word in. “Fuck baby, keep tightening around me like that, and I might fuckin’ cum.”

You find it amusing how close he is so quickly, until two fingers land on your clit and start rubbing in slow, small circles. Your walls flutter around him and Katsuki digs his teeth into your neck with a curse, his grip around your raised thigh contracting as he tries to hold on for as long as he can.

And that’s when Denki starts to move.

First, he rolls to the left. Which would’ve been fine, seeing as it’s in the opposite direction until he bops Eijirou straight on the nose and promptly rouses the redhead from his slumber. Katsuki’s hips still.

“O-Ow, dick,” Eijirou curses under his breath, quickly scrambling to his forearms. It’s hard to tell through the darkness, mostly because you’re squinting your eyes to feign sleep, but it seems like Eijirou rubs under his nose, only to blink back at a bloody hand.

“...Shit.”

Katsuki’s hips shift, ever so slightly, but enough to nestle his cock deeper and force you to bite back a whine. And another. And then another.

You try your hardest to be discreet when you reach to pinch Katsuki in the side, and he breathes a laugh down your neck.

“What?” He whispers, though it's more than a rasp than anything else. Good to know you’re not the only one struggling to not cum, here.

“You know 'what,'” you quickly hiss. But Katsuki’s hips don’t stop as Eijirou weighs his options to cure his bloody nose in the dark. The fingers on your clit return their usual pressure and you inhale sharply, nails digging into Katsuki’s forearm as your orgasm begins creeping up on you.

Eijirou sniffles and gets up, stumbling through the darkness to turn down the hall that leads to the bedrooms. Katsuki sees that as fucking freedom and his hips really start to pick up so much speed that you struggle to breathe through it all.

“‘M gonna cum,” Katsuki whimpers into your neck, burying his face deeper in a poor attempt to stunt any sound. “Fuck, fuck ‘m gonna cum, you close baby?”

“Y-Yeah jus’ a little more,” you whimper, eyes rolling as Katsuki finds some inhumane energy in him to fuck faster. He nods at that and bites into your shoulder with a growl, “C’mon, fuckin’ cream all over my cock—atta girl, fuck, fuck—“

Katsuki fills you up the moment you clench around his cock with a sigh, the weight of your orgasm knocking you forehead-first into your pillow as you bite the urge to squeal. Katsuki doesn't growl as much as you expect, moans breathy and light as his hips finally stutter to a stop—but you suppose some things have to change over the years.

Katsuki collapses next to you in pure exhaustion and you’re sure that’s his cum leaking down your thigh, but for some reason, you don’t really mind.

“Hey you,” he speaks first, eyes blazing red in the darkness. You snort.

“Hey, you.”

Katsuki chuckles with a stupidly giddy smile on his face, "Y'know, you still fuck really well."

You drop your head on his chest to snort, and his hands find their rightful place around your waist.

"Better than high school?"

"Yeah..." Katsuki grumbles, before his eyes narrow. "Wait—hey, yo—"

"I haven't fucked anyone since," you snuff the fire before it even starts, and Katsuki relaxes, though his eyes stay slim. He pulls you closer and you sigh—it's comfortable.

"Good," he grunts. And then after a pregnant silence: "I haven't either."

That's...strangely reassuring.

Your arms wriggle until they fold over his shoulders to play with the small hairs on the back of his neck, and he hums, eyes fluttering shut with a final peck on the lips. As Katsuki's breathing evens and the white of the snow dyes the highest points of his face white, you smile. He looks older.

You think he's asleep until he nudges your waist.

"Be my girlfriend."

You don't even hesitate.

"Okay."

By the time Eijirou comes stumbling down the hall, both you and Katsuki are passed out—with his body encompassing yours in the most intimate way, face tucked into your hickey-ridden neck as your arms and legs lock around his being. The redhead gives you both a soft smile as he passes, snorting to himself.

“Took them long enough.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY THOTSUKI

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #bnha smut #bakugou smut #mha smut

[contemplativepancakes]

sunsets for somebody else

Daphne runs into her long lost husband arguing with another man in the grocery store. Things start to take a turn when she realizes they're married.

The bottle of bleach drops from Daphne’s hand into her cart, landing with a sloshing thud as she takes in the scene in front of her, frozen in her tracks. Emmanuel is standing right in front of her, arguing with another man about cleaning supplies.

Wearing a beige trench coat for some inexplicable reason—it’s almost 90 degrees outside—Emmanuel listens to a man who’s explaining in minute detail how to clean an oven. They’re both wearing wedding rings, and Daphne’s heart swells for a moment before she realizes it’s a different ring from the one she gave Emmanuel all those years ago.

“Dean, I don’t think this is safe for Jack. This is going to create noxious fumes,” Emmanuel says, squinting at the ingredients of the cleaner apparently-Dean had thrust at him.

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, and Daphne squeezes the handle of her shopping cart harder, feeling faint. It’s not every day you come across your long lost husband at the Stop N’ Shop.

“I think the kid can take some fumes,” Dean says, plucking the bottle out of Emmanuel’s hands and putting it in the cart. “We wouldn’t even have to worry about this if someone didn’t let the pizza fall onto the bottom of the oven.”

“The directions said to put it directly on the middle rack!” Emmanuel protests, and Dean rubs a hand down Emmanuel’s back in a familiar way that makes Daphne’s stomach roil.

She’s not jealous, she’s not. She was just helping Emmanuel when she found him, after all. Their marriage was simply one of…convenience for Emmanuel. It’s not like he had a birth certificate with him, or a social security number. What did Daphne get out of all this? Well. Daphne looks at his cheek bones wistfully, her gaze dipping down to his strong forearms his trench coat is rolled up to reveal.

Dean rolls his eyes fondly, and then he tugs Emmanuel into his side, kissing him on the temple. Daphne jerks her stare away for a moment before returning it, noticing now that their wedding rings match.

“Emmanuel?” she chokes out, against her better judgment.

For a long second, she doesn’t think Emmanuel heard her, but he turns around. “Daphne?”

Daphne nods, her words forsaking her. She doesn’t miss the way Dean clutches possessively at Emmanuel’s hip.

“I…thought you were dead,” she finally says. “I filed a missing person report.”

Dean squints at her, before something like recognition passes over her face, and now that she thinks about it, Daphne recognizes him, too. He’s the one who showed up right before everything went to shit. Horror stories of Stockholm syndrome flash through her mind.

“Emmanuel, are you…happy?” she settles on.

Emmanuel gives her a smile, leaning harder into Dean. “I am.”

“Good. That’s. Good,” she says, a strangled look on her face, she’s sure. “Would you want to catch up some time?” she asks before she fully registers what’s coming out of her mouth.

Emmanuel gives her a warm smile. “I’d love that.”

As they set up a time to get coffee, Daphne tries to ignore the glare Dean levels at her throughout the whole conversation. He insists that their meeting be tomorrow, since apparently they won’t be in the area for long. Daphne tries to ignore the warning bells in her mind that tell her she’s about to get murdered and takes solace in the fact that at least they’re meeting in a public place.

Besides, even if Emmanuel’s husband is a serial killer, surely Emmanuel won’t let him murder her, right?

-

The next day, Daphne hems and haws as she debates what to wear. Whatever this is, it’s the exact opposite of a date, anyway. She knocks on the door of her foster child, Alex, to wake them up before she goes into the bathroom to do her hair and makeup. Really, she’s just doing it for herself. She’s allowed to want to look nice!

When she finally deems herself as ready as she’s going to get, she goes back to Alex’s room to make sure they’re actually up. To her pleasant surprise, they’re sitting on the edge of their bed putting on their socks and almost ready. “Excited for school today?” she asks.

Alex makes a face at her. “Never,” they say, but their voice at least has the edge of a smile to it.

They’ve come a long way since they were first placed with her, and even though Daphne knows she shouldn’t be getting overly attached, she can’t help it. She walks down the steps and into the kitchen, deliberating for a moment on breakfast before putting frozen waffles into the toaster. If she’s about to get murdered while Alex is at school, she can at least make sure the last thing she made for them wasn’t cereal.

Alex tromps down the steps, dragging their bookbag behind them, and Daphne hides her smile behind her glass of orange juice. Alex lights up at the sight of the waffles, disturbingly easy to please, as always. They inhale them, as teenagers do, before putting their dishes in the sink. Daphne cracks open her laptop as they wait for the bus, attempting to get some of her work done for the day since she’ll be taking a break later for the coffee. She really hopes her boss doesn’t try and call her while she’s out.

Or, maybe she does. She’s not sure she’s prepared for the level of awkwardness that she’s about to go through, but maybe it won’t be as bad as she thinks. She really wants to know what Emmanuel has been up to for all of this time. She’s still…embarrassingly hung up on him, and it would be nice to get some closure.

The bus pulling up in front of the house jerks her out of her thoughts, and she gives Alex a wave before they race off to get on. She watches them settle into a seat with one of their friends, and smiles at the fact that they even have friends now.

In the end, Daphne doesn’t manage to get much work done before she clambers into her car and drives to the coffee shop they agreed on. She doesn’t really think she needs caffeine with the way her leg is bouncing already.

Emmanuel and Dean are already there when she walks in, Emmanuel with a cup of black coffee he’s dumping sugar packets into and Dean with something with whipped cream and chocolate syrup drizzled on top. She gives them a tentative wave before ordering hot chocolate for herself, settling herself delicately in the seat across from them.

“So,” Dean says. “You were Cas’s wife?”

She squints. “Cas?”

Emmanuel speaks up. “After I regained my memories, I remembered that was my name.”

“Oh.” Smiling weakly, she tries to reconcile that. “You have them all back now?”

Emman—Cas nods.

“Just forgot about me, though?” she tries to ask lightly, but it comes out a little garbled.

“You took advantage of him!” Dean explodes from the other side of the table, making Daphne flinch. “Who the fuck finds someone naked with no memories and marries them?”

“Dean,” Cas chastises, his arm shifting like he’s putting his hand on Dean’s thigh under the table.

“I was helping him,” Daphne says hotly. “Would you have just wanted me to leave him there?”

Cutting Dean off before he can say anything else, Cas looks at Daphne and smiles in a way that makes her heart flutter. “I’m very grateful. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to let you know I was alright.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his sugar monstrosity. He comes away with a whipped cream mustache, and it’s hard not to laugh as he wipes it away in total seriousness.

“So,” Daphne says. “You two have a kid? Jack?”

Scowling, which seems to be Dean’s automatic reflex, he exchanges a glance with Cas before softening. “Yeah, we have a kid. He’s four.”

Daphne thinks maybe Dean should have been a little bit more concerned about the fumes of cleaning chemicals if they have a four year old, but she keeps her judgments to herself. Cas beams. “He’s very bright.”

Returning the smile tentatively, Daphne asks, “How long have you two been married?”

“It’s almost our one year anniversary,” Dean says gruffly.

Daphne tries not to let it affect her, even if that’s more time than she ever got with Cas. “Practically newly weds, then!”

“It’s been an adventure; that’s certain,” Cas says, smiling serenely even as Dean elbows his ribs. “Tell us about you, Daphne. What have you been doing?”

Daphne shrugs a shoulder. “Oh, not too much.” Mourning the man I pulled out of the woods and saved and married, she doesn’t say. She knows Emmanuel never felt the same way about her that she did him. “I got approved to be a foster parent, so I’ve had a few kids come through.”

“Helping people has always been your calling,” Cas says softly.

Daphne takes a few minutes to gush about Alex, and her previous kids before them, before she notices Dean’s not actively glaring at her anymore.

“That’s…nice,” he begrudges when she finishes.

“What do you do, Dean?”

Looking like he just dropped something on his foot, he stammers before he hastily says, “I work construction.”

Daphne squints at him. She has the feeling he’s lying to her, but she has no idea why he would be.

“And what about you, Cas?”

“Oh, I mostly just take care of Jack.”

“You’re a stay at home dad?” she asks, the thought making her stomach twist into knots and heat rise to her face.

“Of a sorts,” Cas agrees.

God, they’re making it impossible to carry on a conversation with them. Daphne keeps a smile pasted to her face. “What do you two do for fun?”

“I’m convinced Dean thinks fun is superfluous,” Cas confides, even as Dean splutters at him. “But I like to drag him to thrift stores with me. Dean likes to bake, also.”

“I work on cars, too,” Dean says, and Daphne can feel his desperation to maintain his facade.

She tries not to quirk a smile at his discomfort. They chat for a while longer, Dean getting increasingly dodgy about the questions she asks before she finally excuses herself to go to the bathroom. She shuts the door behind her and looks down at the dank floor. Is she getting what she wanted out of this? She has no idea what she even imagined happening when she asked to catch up. Emmanuel running away with her? Maybe in her wildest fantasies. Taking a deep breath to ground herself, she looks in the mirror and checks her makeup, rubbing at her under eye circles before walking back out of the bathroom.

Cas is at the counter ordering another drink, for Dean, by the sound of the sugar content, and she walks over to him. Hesitating before she bites the bullet, she asks, “You’re not…like, being held against your will, right? That Dean seems,” she pauses, “interesting.”

Cas laughs warmly, putting a hand over Daphne’s. “No, nothing like that. This is a choice of my own free will, believe it or not. Dean is much more caring than he lets on.”

Well, Daphne’s not sure she believes it, but. At least he’s happy, and in the end, that’s all she’s ever wanted for him.

#supernatural #destiel #castiel #outsider pov #daphne allen #the born again identity #contemplative writing

[live-the-fangirl-life]

It’s the Thought that Counts

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Birthday Oneshot

All Rowan wants to do is throw a surprise party for his girlfriend, but that becomes increasingly difficult as every possible thing that could go wrong—goes wrong.

I wrote this for my birthday on the fifth, but I couldn't wait until then to post it, Enjoy!

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, Light NSFW

4476 words

*******

“Are you serious?”

If Rowan’s hair wasn’t already silver, it would’ve been by the end of the day from all the stress this was putting him through.

Looking into the open cake box in Fenrys’ hands, he just stared at the inscription atop what was supposed to be a birthday cake for Aelin.

“What? What’s wrong?” Fenrys tried to lean over the lid of the box but it was tall enough to block his view.

“Did you even look at it before you left the store? Before you paid for it?” It took all of Rowan’s self-control not to scream. How many more things could go wrong today?

Fenrys shifted uneasily, noticing Rowan’s slipping control. “Uh, no. I was already running late, and you said to get back here as soon as possible to help finish setting up.”

All Rowan could do was let out a long, slow breath.

“This. Says. Alien.”

The blonde man holding the cake snorted, “what?”

“The cake says ‘Happy Birthday, Alien’”

“Seriously?” Fenrys was quick to put the box down on a nearby table so he could stand next to Rowan and look at it. “Shit. They even put little green Martians on it.”

All Rowan wanted to do was throw a surprise party for his girlfriend.

Was that really too much to ask? Apparently, so.

A couple of months ago Aelin had mentioned how she’d always wanted a surprise party, but of course, you cant ask for a surprise party because then it’s no longer a surprise.

Rowan took the hint and decided to plan something special for her birthday. He even got all their friends to help, and if everything had gone to plan then it would have been a perfect day.

Too bad he couldn’t catch a break.

Rowan had made a list of everything they needed to do, buy, and plan. It was an extensive list because he knew that a party for Aelin had to be perfect. Not because she had impossibly high standards—well, she did, but that wasn’t why it had to be perfect—it was because he loved her and wanted to show her how much he appreciated her on her birthday.

And he thought it would be the icing on the cake—pun intended—to have all their friends involved too. That’s why he was making calls to all of them about what they each needed to do for the party.

First, he got Lorcan and Elide to pick up the golden balloon arch that was going to be at the entrance of the park he’d reserved for the day. By the time he got on the phone with Lorcan, Rowan was already exasperated from having to deal with the city planning office in order to reserve the particular park and gazebo.

“Lorcan, I need you in charge of the—” Rowan broke off, hearing a loud crackling from the other end of the phone.

“You’re cutting off, wha— you say?” Lorcan’s voice was halting as the call cut in-and-out

“I was saying, I need you to cover the balloons.”

“Ba—”

“The balloon canopy.”

“The bo—, ca—”

“Yeah, we need a golden balloon canopy.”

“Okay, fine. I— got the— boun— ca—”

“Shit. Can you hear me?” Rowan pulled his phone away to check his service. It was fine from his end, it must be Lorcan’s phone being spotty.

When Rowan put the phone back to his ear, he could hear rustling and the sound of a car door opening and closing, and then the connection cleared.

“Yeah, man. I heard you. But, are you sure Aelin wants that?” Lorcan sounded skeptical.

“What? Yeah, of course, it’ll be great.” Rowan was already getting impatient, knowing he had a few more errands to run before he could relax.

“Whatever. She’s your girlfriend, and it’s your credit card.”

Rolling his eyes, Rowan muttered, “Thank you for your generous help, Lorcan.” then heard someone scolding Lorcan and grinned before saying loud enough for the other person to hear, “Thank you, Elide!”

Rowan hung up and mentally checked off the balloons. What was next?

***

“Aedion, please, I need you to keep Aelin busy for the day.”

Aedion and Lysandra had come over to Rowan and Aelin’s apartment for dinner, and Rowan had dragged Aedion into the kitchen to talk about that weekend’s plan.

Taking a sip of his beer, Aedion raised an eyebrow at him, “Won’t she wonder why her boyfriend is avoiding her on her birthday?”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I won’t be avoiding her. You will very adamantly request to take your cousin to lunch for her birthday, and who am I to get in the way of family?”

Aedion snorted but nodded. “Yeah, okay. Lys and I can take her out.”

“No, Lys can’t be there.”

“What?” Aedion looked at him bewildered. “Why not?”

Rowan sighed. “Because if Lysandra is there with you, then Aelin will wonder why I’m not there with her. If it’s just you and Aelin, then she won’t think it’s weird that I’m gone. Besides,” Rowan took another sip of beer, “I’ll need Lys’ help during the day to set up that slideshow.”

“Right.”

The slideshow Rowan had asked Aedion and Lysandra to make using pictures of Aelin that would play during the party. The one that Aedion wasn’t going to tell Rowan hadn’t been started yet. “Yeah, okay. I’ll invite Aelin to come get lunch with me.”

“Perfect.”

One more thing off Rowan’s list.

***

The morning of the party Rowan asked Fenrys to go pick up Aelin’s cake. It was supposed to be a chocolate and hazelnut cake with the top decorated with kingsflame blossoms and say, “Happy Birthday Aelin.”

Rowan was distracted with setting up decorations and directing their friends to put away the things they brought. Dorian and Manon were in charge of getting the alcohol. Chaol and Yrene were bringing deserts because when it came to Aelin there could never be enough sweets. Fenrys helped Rowan bring out the rest of the food, before being sent off to pick up the cake.

Rowan did a quick scan, mentally checking off everyone. Besides the people he could see, he knew Lysandra was in the gazebo finishing up the slideshow, Aedion was out distracting Aelin, and Elide and Lorcan would be here any minute with the balloons.

Letting out a breath, Rowan smiled. Things seemed to be coming together.

Busy showing Dorian where the coolers for the drinks were, he was too distracted to do more than wave a ‘hello’ to Lorcan and Elide as Lorcan’s truck pulled up to the park. Rowan decided they were smart enough to figure out how to set up a balloon arch—or at least Elide could read the directions to a grumbling Lorcan, so Rowan spent the next half hour with other parts of the setup.

After he finished hanging up the screen they were going to use for the picture slideshow, Rowan went to check on the balloons.

He made it two steps out of the large gazebo and stopped in his tracks.

“What the fuck is this?” Rowan exclaimed, gaping at the large monstrosity in front of him.

Instead of looking at a beautiful, arched balloon canopy, he was looking at a massive, inflatable, child’s bouncy castle.

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck is this?’” Lorcan asked, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead and stepping around the side of the castle. “This is what you asked for.”

“This is not what I asked for.” Rowan could feel his mouth still hanging open and quickly shut it.

Elide looked at Rowan in confusion. “Rowan, you did ask for this. I mean, I definitely thought it was weird that Aelin would want a blow-up bounce house for her birthday, but when Lor asked if you were sure, you insisted it was right.”

Rowan tried to remember that particular conversation. He had so many details in his head and too many people in charge of different things.

“Shit.” The phone call was coming back to Rowan to now. “We kept getting cut off. Shit,” He ran an exasperated hand through his hair making it all stand up on end. He swung around towards Lorcan who looked at him with raised brows. “What did you think I was asking you to get?”

Lorcan slowly looked between the bouncy house and Rowan. “You asked me to get a Bounce Castle.”

For fucks sake.

“I asked you to get a Balloon Canopy.”

Elide’s mouth opened in an ‘O’ and Lorcan said nothing until a moment later he was laughing, bent over at the waist.

“You wanted balloons, and now Galathynius has a bounce castle.” He managed between breaths, ignoring Rowan’s fuming look. It took Elide elbowing him in the side to get him to stop laughing.

“I don’t have time for this. Fix this.” Rowan waved his arms around at the massive blow-up castle, and then he turned around to find something he could actually focus on, trying his best to ignore the increasingly greying clouds in the sky.

“You still paying?” Lorcan called after him.

He let out a string of curses. “Yes.”

Rowan just barely heard the sound of air being let out of the castle as he walked away.

***

A shriek drew Rowan’s attention away from the chairs he was unfolding. He turned towards the gazebo to see Lysandra throw a small ice bucket, mostly filled with water at this point, at the screen Rowan had set up earlier.

The screen that was on fire.

Running in to help, Rowan saw that the candles placed around it had been lit—why the hell would someone already light them? The wind must’ve blown the screen too close causing it to catch fire.

He reached Lysandra just as she threw another bucket of icy water on the screen, dousing the rest of the flames.

“Are you okay?” He looked over Lysandra, but she just seemed shocked and irritated.

“I’m fine.” She gave him a reassuring nod before scowling at the destroyed screen. “This, though, is pretty much dead.” she sighed and closed her laptop she was using to work on the slideshow. “It doesn’t look like we’ll be showing pictures today, Rowan.”

He rubbed at his face. Fine. Okay. He could deal with this. They had a children’s bounce house and no slideshow. That was fine. As long as nothing else went wrong, he could deal with it.

As if in response to his thought, the day began to dim as clouds moved to cover the sun. If Rowan didn’t look at the heavy clouds, they would disappear.

That was when Fenrys came back with the cake.

***

“Alien?! I can’t give my girlfriend a birthday cake that’s calling her an Alien!”

Fenrys almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous Rowan looked with his hair sticking up and face all red, but he knew this was just the latest in a list of ‘things gone wrong’ and was worried that if he laughed then he wouldn’t live to see the birthday girl.

“Maybe she’ll find it funny,” Fenrys suggested.

Rowan slowly turned toward him with an almost crazed look in his eye. “Funny? You think Aelin will find all this,” he waved his hands at the deflating bounce house, charred hanging screen, and the horribly incorrect cake, “Funny?”

“...Maybe?” Honestly, Fenrys thought Aelin would find it all hilarious but decided to keep his mouth shut. He knew how much work and energy Rowan put into this party, and he worried for his friend’s mental state as he counted all the things that had already gone wrong.

Rowan just dropped his head in his hands and groaned.

***

As soon as Rowan unpacked the last of the food, he heard a boom of thunder.

“This is not happening.” He muttered to himself, refusing to look at what was surely the worst thing that could happen that day.

A moment later he heard the unmistakable sound of hard, fast rain. The yelps from his friends broke him out of his haze and he turned to see everyone rush into the covered gazebo, careful to keep close to the center where they could stay dry.

Everyone besides Yrene, who had been helping Rowan with the food, were varying levels of soaked. And all the decorations they’d been holding were either stuck outside taking the worst of the rain or dragged inside to drip water onto the floor.

Rowan didn’t say anything, he just grabbed the beer bottle out of Aedion’s hand and took a long swig.

***

Looking around, Rowan surveyed the damage. Where a nice balloon canopy should’ve been positioned, a large, deflated, child’s bounce castle stood in its place; the screen he was going to use to show a slideshow of Aelin was burnt to a crisp; the rain pouring down was soaking the park and wrecking everything brought in from the cars, and the perfect cake for his girlfriend was ruined by calling her Alien.

But at least all their friends showed up.

That was the one good thing to come out of this disaster of a party. Even if they were all dripping wet and shivering from their walks from their cars to the covered gazebo in the middle of the park.

Dorian walked up to where Rowan and Aedion were talking about the cousin’s lunch. He took a sip of his drink and asked them, “So, what time is Aelin is getting here?”

Rowan and Aedion both turned towards each other.

“What time did you—”

“When did you say—”

They both froze.

Rowan slowly blinked. “Aedion, you did tell Aelin what time to come tonight, right?”

Aedion shook his head, wincing, “No, man. I was taking her out to lunch. You were supposed to find a reason to get her to the park.”

A dull roaring started in Rowan’s head. He thought over everything he had on his list.

Rent out gazebo: Check.

Delegate decorations: unsuccessful, but Check.

Order cake: again, unsuccessful, but Check.

Get friends to show up: Check.

Buy Aelin’s present: Check

Invite Aelin…

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck me. No, no, no, no, no… Gods damn it!”

Before anyone could another word, Rowan pulled his keys from his pocket and sprinted into the rain towards his car.

***

Aelin loved her birthday.

Usually.

She loved celebrating with her friends and laughing about the stupid gag gift they bought her. She loved making a wish on her candles and she even loved the awkward minute of listening to people sing happy birthday.

Last year, Rowan had woken her up to a particularly amazing round of birthday sex. Which turned into another round in the kitchen and then another one in the shower. He had also spent the day last year doing her favorite things and ending the night with a wonderful dinner at her favorite restaurant.

Which was why she had been so excited to see what this birthday would bring.

Her morning began exactly how she hoped: with Rowan’s tongue between her legs. He’d woken her up slowly, lazily, until she was squirming on the sheets with her hand fisted in his hair.

She’d hoped their morning tumble was the start of a very satisfying day, but soon afterward Rowan left saying he had to make a work call and she should get ready for her lunch with Aedion.

As much as she loved her cousin, all Aelin really wanted to do was stay inside with Rowan all day, clothing-optional. Actually, clothing-nonexistent.

But she did want to see Aedion, and apparently, Rowan’s work call was pressing enough that he practically ran out the door.

Lunch was nice. She hadn’t had one-on-one time with Aedion in a while, but she couldn’t help but notice how antsy he seemed.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She asked him after the waiter took their set down their drinks.

Her cousin choked on the sip he’d taken, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” He sputtered. “I’m not not telling you anything.”

“Uh huh.”

He rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing Ae, don’t sweat it.”

“It looks like you’re the one sweating Aedion.” Leaning back in her chair she smirked and crossed her arms. “Did you get me something you’re worried I won’t like?” she joked.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, exactly! Lysandra picked it out but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

Aelin rolled her eyes at her cousin. “Please, if Lys picked out whatever it is, then I’m sure I’ll love it.” Her smirk turned into a genuine smile. “But, it’s from you so I know I’ll like it.”

He laughed but she thought he still looked a bit anxious. Deciding not to worry about whatever else had him fidgety, she let it go.

When she got back to her and Rowan’s apartment, she expected he would be there. He wasn’t.

Aelin didn’t think a work call would take the two hours she’d been out with Aedion, so she hoped Rowan would be back soon. She hadn’t talked about plans today because last year he had been so eager to take the lead.

So she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Three hours later she was irate, hurt, and confused. How could he just up and disappear on her birthday? If he was busy—if something came up that he needed to deal with—he should’ve just told her. She still would be upset, but she’d have understood.

But he hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t called or texted. Rowan hadn’t given her any explanation as to why she was alone now on her birthday.

Aelin walked into the kitchen and was about to pour herself a glass of wine when she heard loud noises from the hall outside her apartment door. It sounded like heavy, stampeding footsteps.

And then Rowan was bursting into their apartment.

He was breathing heavily, soaking wet, and looking at her with such an apologetic expression that she momentarily forgot why she was angry.

“Aelin,” he panted, trying to get a breath, “I am so sorry.”

Right. That was why she was angry.

She crossed her arms over her chest and took in his disheveled appearance, trying desperately to understand why he was so out of sorts.

“What happened to you?”

Rowan loosed a long, heavy breath and stepped closer to her. “Aelin, gods, I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are.” She agreed. “But, explain to me why.”

Rowan took another step towards her and she let him.

“I had a whole thing planned— I still do, kind of, but it’s basically ruined at this point—” Rowan started talking faster and Aelin struggled to keep up. “I planned an amazing surprise party for you, I spent weeks getting things organized. I had all our friends come out to help, they’re all still out at the park—I rented out the park—they’d better all still be there, anyway.”

He took a breath and Aelin’s anger slowly started to fade, but then she remembered sitting alone in her apartment for three hours and stared at him until he continued his explanation.

“There were supposed to be balloons, golden ones! And photos of you, and a cake, but all of it got ruined.” Rowan ran an angry hand through his hair. “Lorcan thought I asked him for a bounce castle— a bounce castle! Then the screen caught on fire, and then there was a mess up with the cake that you don’t even want to know about.”

He finally looked back at her, pleadingly, hoping she could understand how sorry he was. “But the worst part, which was one-hundred-percent my fault, was that I forgot to invite you to your own party.”

Aelin was wide-eyed by the end of his speech. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Rowan grabbed her hand and looked down at her with sorry eyes. “Please, forgive me.”

“Forgive you?”

His face crumpled and he leaned to press it into her shoulder. She heard him grumble, “Fuck. I ruined your birthday, I’m so sorry.”

Aelin pulled away to hold his face between her hands. She waited until his eyes opened to say, “Rowan, you planned that whole thing? For me?”

His brow furrowed as if he couldn’t understand why she would ask that. “Of course, I did. I know how much you wanted a surprise party, but—”

“But nothing.” She cut him off pressing her mouth firmly against his. Rowan was too surprised at her reaction to reciprocate, but she pulled back just as fast.

“Okay, yes, not inviting me to my own party was a bad move,” He winced. “But, everything else you did was amazing.” When he still looked skeptically at her she continued, “the rest of that stuff; the weather, the cake, the fire, Lorcan’s bad judgment—none of that was your fault.”

Rowan finally cracked a smile at the last bit.

“So,” he searched her face for any clues, “you’re not upset?”

Aelin laughed at pulled Rowan down for another kiss. This time, he eagerly returned it and wrapped one arm around her waist and the other moved so his hand could hold the back of her head. They stood wrapped up in each other for a minute, deepening the kiss before they both pulled back for air.

“I’m not mad. I was, before when I thought you’d ditched me on my birthday. But I’m not anymore now that I know you spent the day trying to make me happy."

Aelin pulled back further to give him a stern look. “But I will be angry if you don’t bring me to this party right now.”

He pulled her back into him and let out a relieved laugh.

“Let’s get the birthday girl to her party.”

***

The drive from their apartment to the park was filled with Rowan telling Aelin about everything that had gone wrong. His fingers intertwined with her over the middle console and she listened as he told her about the crazy day.

“Why someone would light the candles so early in the day is beyond me.” He grumbled and Aelin chuckled at the bitterness in his tone.

“I’m sure the slideshow would’ve been great.” She perked up. “Oh my gods, that was why Aedion was so weird at lunch.”

Rowan glanced side longed at her. “He was weird?”

“Yeah, real fidgety, wouldn’t always look me in the eye. He said it was because he was worried I wouldn’t like my present, but I knew that was a load of bullshit.” She laughed, remembering how relived his face had been when she offered that excuse.

Rowan rolled his eyes but watched as the sky began to clear.

“Good, the rains finally stopping. I told the others to finish putting up decorations if the weather cleared.”

“There’s more?” Aelin questioned, thinking of everything he’d already told her about.

“A bit. I gave Fen a list of stuff to buy, but knowing him, he picked up some things that I didn’t tell him to. So, who knows what we’ll see when we get there.” He groaned thinking about it, but Aelin just laughed.

“It’s a couple of decorations, Ro. I’m sure they’ve got it handled.”

When they finally pulled into the parking lot nearest the gazebo, Aelin and Rowan didn’t get out of the cart immediately. They watched the scene in front of them in bewilderment

Lorcan was throwing a rope over a tree branch—Aelin assumed it was because he was the tallest—tying one end to the trunk and the other end was attached to a large pinata.

“Is that…?” She was so confused about what was happening.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Fen?” Rowan seethed.

“Fen did that? Why would Fenrys buy an Alien pinata?” Aelin suddenly had more questions than answers.

Rowan rubbed his hands down his face, muffling his curses.

“Don’t ask.”

Aelin watched as Aedion picked up the stick and took a couple of practice swings.

“What? They’re gonna start without us?” Aelin pulled Rowan’s hand off his face and made him look at her. “Hey. I know this didn’t go like you’d planned, but it's still pretty great, and everyone is here and having a good time. And there’s cake, right?”

“There’s cake.”

Rowan refrained from reminding her that all the guests had trekked in and out of the rain that afternoon setting up and half the supplies were ruined or nonexistent. Apparently, she could see all that in his face though so Aelin leaned over and kissed him.

“Let’s go, come on.”

At some point during their conversation, Lysandra had found the blindfold and tied it around Aedion’s head. The rest of the group, minus Manon and Dorian who had snuck off somewhere she didn’t want to think about too much, stood around as Fenrys cheered and Aedion swung.

He missed the first time, but as he prepped himself to swing again, Aelin and Rowan climbed out of the car and walked toward the group.

“Aelin!” Fenrys called, eyes going wide as he called her name.

Everyone else whipped around to face her and Rowan and yell “Surprise!”

Unfortunately, Aedion still had a stick in his hands; and he quickly turned, it nailed Fenrys in the head.

Rowan stood there gaping as Fenrys let out a loud sound between a yelp and a groan, before falling to the ground, knocked out.

“Shit! Who’d I hit?” Aedion asked as he ripped off the blindfold, and tuned to see what—or, who—exactly he had swung at.

Mostly in shock, a little bit in amusement, everyone watched as Fenrys slowly groaned, lifted his head only to wince and bring his hand up to hold it, and opened his eyes.

“…Surprise”

***

“You know, this may be my most memorable birthday.” Aelin was perched on Rowan’s lap, eating a piece of the outer space-themed cake.

Her boyfriend groaned and pressed his face into her shoulder.

“I’ll take it. Memorable is better than disastrous.”

She threw her head back and laughed.

After Fenrys woke up, Yrene came over to check on him and make sure he was going to be alright. She didn’t think he had a concussion, but she put Aedion in charge of watching him. His punishment, apparently. They were currently at another table with Lysandra, Lorcan, and Elide.

Aelin looked over to the other end of the gazebo and watched as Chaol and Yrene sat with Dorian and Manon, the latter was trying her best to pretend she was interested in the conversation. By the heated looks she and Dorian were giving each other, Aelin didn’t think those two would be sticking around too long.

Turning back to Rowan, Aelin smiled.

“Thank you, Buzzard. I love it.” She grinned as he rolled his eyes, but he tightened his grip on her and pulled her face down to his.

“Happy Birthday, Fireheart.”

*****

Taglist:

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#aelin #rowan #rowaelin #aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin fic #rowaelin au #rowaelin smut #rowaelin fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #au #birthday #throne of glass #tog #elide #lorcan #elorcan #lorcan x elide #elide x lorcan #dorian #manon #manorian #dorian x manon #manon x dorian #chaol x yrene

[ilovewhenyouremember]

bad things happen to good people

you were the best person any of the avengers, especially bucky, had ever met. you were such a good person it was almost unbelievable. but one day, you didn’t come back from a solo mission-

sad, mentions of torture, trauma, nightmares, injuries, scars, swearing, etc

_______________________________________________

After every mission, on your way back to the tower, you would call Bucky and check in. Letting him know every went good and you were on your way. He would then watch your location on the gps, making sure your way back went smoothly. It was just a way to make sure you were safe and it made Bucky feel a lot better knowing you were okay, especially after solo missions. Before leaving for your mission, the two of you would decide on a time you would check in, you never missed the time, ever. You would call exactly at that time or no later than 30 seconds past the time. Every time.

You had been on a solo mission for two days, today being the day you would return. Every time, around the 20 minutes before you would call is when Bucky would stress out. He would sit down, staring at his phone, bouncing his leg for the whole 20 minutes before seeing your name light up his phone. Seeing it instantly made him relax, jumping to pick up the phone. Your voice eased his anxiety every time. Now, here Bucky was 3 minutes after your scheduled time to check in, almost going crazy. You’d never been late to checking in. He tried thinking of every way possible to ease his worry. Maybe your phone died? Maybe you lost it? Maybe you had no service? Or maybe you had just forgot? No. He knew that last one wasn’t even close to possible.

8 minutes. Okay what the fuck. He grabbed his phone of the desk, hurrying to see if he had any missed calls, maybe they just didn’t come through at the time. But nope, nothing. Fuck. He decided to just call. He put his phone to his ear, praying you would pick up. But instead was met with a “sorry the person you tried to ca-“ he slammed his phone on the table, gaining the attention from Steve as he walked into the room.

“Woah calm down, Buck. What is it?” Bucky shot his eyes up to Steve. Steve immediately noticed the worry and anger in his eyes. He walked over to Bucky and picked his phone up of the table, he saw your name on the screen and that there was a missed call from Bucky’s end. His face dropped.

“Oh. Buck I’m sure it’s nothing. Her phone probably died, did you look at her location?” Your location. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He mentally beat the shit out of himself for not thinking of that first thing. He pulled up the app waiting for your name to load.

Y/n is offline.

Bucky grit his teeth. This wasn’t fucking happening. He felt deep down something was seriously wrong. And whatever it was, you deserved none of it. You were such a good person. The nicest person Bucky has ever met in the whole 106 years of his existence. You would never hurt a fly, which he couldn’t understand since you were an Avenger. But he knew if the things you did as an Avenger didn’t better the world, you wouldn’t do it. He stormed into Tony’s office, tossing his phone on his desk.

“Find her.”

_______________________________________________

It had been six days. Six days since you were supposed to call Bucky. Six days since Bucky was supposed to hear your voice, hear that you were okay. But nope. Tony couldn’t find you. The amount of times Bucky tried to fight Tony over the past 6 days was absurd. With all of the technology, the tracker in your suit, and all of the crazy ways Tony could track you, Bucky found it real hard why it was impossible to find you. He barely ate, he didn’t sleep, he really only spoke when he was screaming at Tony to find you.

Bucky was sitting on the balcony, drinking. A lot. He heard the door slide open and someone clear their throat.

“Bucky.” He turned his head to find Tony. He scoffed.

“Come to tell me you’ve tried everything n there’s nothing else you can do?” He gulped down the rest of what was in his glass.

“Bucky, I found her.” Bucky shot up out of the chair he was in, almost immediately sober, as if he hadn’t just drank enough glasses that you couldn’t even count them on your two hands. He thought he could’ve just fell to the floor and sobbed. But he didn’t, obviously.

“Where.” Tony looked down. Bucky repeated himself, more stern, and with 10x more anger in his voice. Tony met Bucky’s angry eyes with eyes of pity.

“Hydra.” Bucky saw red. Just red. He swore he blacked out because the next 50 minutes of him racing to Hydra on his bike was a blur. He was furious and scared. He knows first hand what they do to people. And of all people they had to do their sick shit on, they had to choose you, the only genuinely, really, good person Bucky knew and trusted with everything.

When he arrived, the next 20 minutes consisted of Bucky tearing through the now bloodied halls of Hydra. He just killed and killed. Making his way to where he knew you were. When he finally got to the door, he noticed the locks were gone, but that one doorknob stayed put exactly where he remembered it being. He would stare at it, waiting for it to twist, dreading the things to come. He made himself sick thinking about you going through the same. He shook away the thoughts and burst through the door.

As soon as he saw you. His mind went blank. You were hanging by chains at your wrists, bloodied and bruised. Your head dangled forward and your legs were limp. He automatically thought the worst, running to you, trying to be gentle as he broke the chains with his hand. Your limp body fell into him. Feeling you almost made Bucky cry. He could tell how weak and broken you were in his arms. He picked you up all the way and made his way out of the bloodied halls. He then heard a whimper.

“No- n-no p-plea- please” Your voice was so weak and fragile. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of it.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. It’s me. Its Bucky. I’ve got you. Close your eyes, doll.”

_______________________________________________

The next two weeks were absolute hell for you. You were weak and so sensitive to everything. And god, the nightmares. A night hadn’t gone by where you didn’t have one. They felt so real. Honestly the one thing that you couldn’t stop going through your head was how Bucky has the same ones, but even worse. They’re unbearable and it saddened you to think of him having these every night, alone, for years and years. 

Bucky tried his hardest to help you through them. Laying with you until you fell asleep, then moving to the couch outside of your room, just incase you had a nightmare, he could hear and come comfort you. You would lay on him, head on his chest, clinging onto his shirt as you sobbed. This was really hard on Bucky, seeing you like this, knowing first hand how terrible these are. He wished he could’ve been the one to go on that mission. He thought everyday about all the little things he could have done to prevent what happened to you. And of course he blamed himself. He had nothing to do with this and could have done nothing to prevent it, but he still blamed himself.

As time went on, your body healed, along with all the cuts and bruises. You would stand in the mirror after showering, touching the scars they left on you and cry. You had to live with all these reminders about what they did to you, forever. You still had the nightmares but they got easier to handle as time went on. Bucky was still as caring and helpful since the day you returned home. He not once got annoyed or sick of helping you, even though you felt like he did, he reassured you and swore up and down that would never happen. Multiple times.

_______________________________________________

The entire team, except you, were sitting in Tony’s office, talking about a whatever Avengers talk about. Tony and Steve were arguing about something that happened during the last mission. Tony being Tony had to prove Steve wrong and pull up the footage when he got an email. Confused he clicked on it. 

“Okay what one of you sent me this?” He said turning to the rest. They all looked at each other confused. Tony rolled his eyes, pulling the email onto the digital screen in the middle of the table. 

“It’s a video.” He pressed play. A dark room appeared on the screen. They all stared, incredibly confused, thinking this was some troll. The screen flashed black and then all of the sudden there was a sound. Almost like a whimper? The screen then flashed back on. What appeared made them all want to throw up. Not Bucky though, he went through just about every emotion in the span of 2 seconds. Finishing on a mix of complete and utter rage, and sadness. On the screen was you.

You were tied up by your wrists and gagged. You were screaming and crying. Then an unknown character stepped into view it looked as though they had a knife. Bucky’s vision went blurry. You were kicking and squirming at them until another character stepped into view, holding you down, yelling at you to stop. Seeing people touch you and hurt you broke Bucky. He didn’t know whether to be angry, or sad, or feel sick. They lifted up your shirt, exposing heaps of cuts and blood. Then, they began to cut. Unlike the others, Bucky didn’t look away one time, his hands so tight in fists his nails were cutting into his skin. After they finished, you were left with the Hydra symbol carved into your ribs. You sat there crying and whimpering in pain as they just left you there. That was only the first four minutes of the video. Seven hours remaining. Tony shut it off. The room was completely silent. Everyone had turned to where Bucky sat, but he was gone.

#bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky

[expectingtofly]

Take a Load Off

2.5k

fluff, post-canon, human!cas, anxious dean, established dean/cas

(i saw this post by @emptymeg and couldn’t get it out of my head, so here’s a fic :)

also posted on ao3

“What’s in the box?” Dean asked, coming into the library to see Cas setting a large package on the map table with a huff. The table creaked under its weight. “Hey, name that movie.”

Cas cocked his head. “What movie?”

Dean groaned. “Seriously, dude, you’re hopeless. What’s in the box! Brad Pitt?” Cas shrugged and Dean sighed. “Forget it.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Cas said, fetching scissors from a drawer, “This box is for you. I bought you something.”

“Oh?” Dean came to the table, interest even more piqued. “What kind of something?”

Cas gave him a look. “Not what you’re thinking.” He cut through the tape securing the box. “I read that this can relieve stress and help you sleep better.”

“I already know something that can do that.” He added a wink for good measure.

“So,” Cas continued, ignoring him, “I thought you should try it. You haven’t been getting enough sleep lately and I’m worried about your anxiety levels.”

“Wait a moment,” Dean protested. “What do you mean, my ‘anxiety levels’?” Cas opened the box and he leaned over to look at the contents. Folded, silky dark grey fabric. “What is that, a blanket?”

“A weighted blanket,” Cas corrected, heaving it out of the box. “Twenty pounds.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He plucked at the fabric. “This is supposed to help?"

“It’s proven by science.” He nodded at a chair by Dean. “Go, sit.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean sat down and Cas draped the blanket over him. “Fuck.” Dean lifted his arms up under the blanket, then dropped them. “This is actually heavy.”

“Do you feel relaxed?”

“I feel ridiculous.”

“You don’t look it at all,” Cas deadpanned and Dean kicked at him. Cas pulled a brochure out of the box. “Soft cotton filled with poly pellets,” he read. “Alleviate anxiety and increase serotonin.” He studied Dean, eyes squinted. “You still look tense.”

“Sorry, Cas.” Dean shoved the blanket to the floor with a thump. “Think you got duped.”

“You’re not doing it right,” Cas grumbled, picking it up off the ground. “You have to give it a chance.”

“I just gave it a chance.” Standing, he brushed Cas’ hair off his forehead, gave him his best you love me smile. “Now, do you really wanna help me relax?”

Cas studied him for a long moment, then said, “Okay.” He carefully folded the blanket. “We’re keeping this, though. I still think it’ll work.”

Dean made a face behind his back and started to follow him out of the room, but the phone Sam had recently installed in the library for a hunter hotline started ringing. He groaned and Cas hesitated in the doorway.

“Do I have to?” Dean asked him.

“I suppose so,” Cas sighed and set the blanket down on a chair. Turns out the call was from a hunter out near Boise who needed help with a case. Of course, Sam was away visiting Eileen, so he and Cas got stuck spending the next two hours going over the case information, trying to figure out what the monster was. They finally settled on vetala, a whole pack of them, and after instructing the hunter on how to kill them, Dean hung up the phone.

“Fuck,” he swore, rubbing at his eyes. “Who knows how big the pack is. Could be a whole dozen of the freaks.”

“Well, now she knows how to kill them,” Cas said. “And there’s other hunters in the area who can help.”

“Yeah...” Dean fiddled with his pen, tapping it on the open pages of his dad’s journal.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked.

Dean realized he was frowning. “Nothing.” Flexing his shoulders, he stretched out his back, stiff from poring over books. “Just, three people are already dead. I better be right that it’s a pack of vetala.”

Reaching over, Cas rubbed his back in small circles and Dean leaned back into his hand. “We did all we could, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t so sure that was true. But, short of driving all night out to Boise, he supposed there wasn’t much else they could do. Still, he didn’t like the idea that he might’ve missed a clue, might’ve misled the hunter. He clicked his pen again and again, going over the case in his mind, worst case scenarios—

“Are you going to sleep now?” Cas asked, and Dean glanced at him.

“No.” Dropping the pen, he pushed his chair back and got to his feet. “Don’t think I can now.”

“Would you say you’re feeling stressed? Anxious, perhaps?” Cas deliberately looked to his right and Dean followed his gaze to the weighted blanket folded on a chair.

“Dude, don’t even start.”

“You should use it,” Cas urged. “There’s no shame in feeling anxious, I often feel the same way too.”

“I’ve dealt with worse before, this is nothing new. Just comes with the job.”

Cas sighed. “You put too much on your shoulders.”

Dean shrugged. “Like I said, comes with the job.” If he wasn’t always on edge, he figured he was doing things wrong. Get too comfortable and bad things happened. Just the way it was.

“Still, you can admit you need a break.”

“Jeez, Cas, I’m wounded.” Dean pressed a hand to his chest. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

Cas rolled his eyes and stood. “Don’t stay up too late.” He seemed to hesitate, fighting against saying more, and Dean said,

“I’m fine, Cas, really.”

“Okay.” Cas didn’t look too convinced, but he kissed Dean goodnight and headed off to their bedroom.

Dean cleaned up the mess of books and papers on the table, turned off the lamps just to do something with his hands. Normally, this is when he’d grab a drink, try to calm his head, but he’d been trying to cut back lately—blame Cas’ concern for his liver—so instead he decided to head to the Dean Cave. Maybe a few episodes of Dr. Sexy would distract himself enough to sleep.

Leaving the room, his eyes fell on the weighted blanket again. Cas and his ridiculous ideas. If Dean hadn’t been sleeping too well lately, that was just the result of living their kind of life. Nothing to do about it. Ignore the stress or end up drowning in it, that was his motto.

(And a horrible coping method, according to Sam and Cas)

Either way, lying under twenty pounds of “cotton and poly pellets” wasn’t going to help. Though the blanket had been really soft, he’d give it that.

He forgot all about it the following day, though, when Sam found a case a few towns over, and Dean and Cas drove over to meet him there. Disturbed gravesites, people disappearing near the cemetery at night. A ghoul, by all signs. A day of morgue visits and interviewing witnesses, then another two days of sitting parked in the cemetery, waiting for the ghoul to emerge again and feed. Dean was almost happy to see the thing when it crawled out of its grave. Almost.

Killing the damn thing hadn’t been too easy. But after inadvertently destroying a few gravestones, nearly falling into an open grave, and narrowly avoiding losing a few limbs, they finally bashed the ghoul’s brains in thoroughly, and split up from the cemetery. Dean went to speak to the latest victim’s mother while Cas and Sam got rid of the remains.

Returning to the bunker first, Dean showered, blood and ghoul remains washing away down the drain. But even the warm water couldn’t ease the jitteriness sitting high in his chest. The ghoul had been strong, fast, and Dean’s heart had leapt into his throat when it got a hold of Sam. Even Cas had struggled to stop the thing, gunshots only serving to anger the son of a bitch more.

Getting out of the shower, he scrubbed himself dry with his towel, inspected a cut along his arm. Not deep enough for stitches. If Sam had avoided a concussion, they were lucky. The ghoul was dead, at least. Left a dozen ruined graves and a few torn apart teenagers in its wake, but dead.

As he changed into clean clothes, he heard the bunker door open. “All good?” he asked, entering the war room to find Sam and Cas setting down their bags.

“If you mean will the trunk always reek like ghoul, then yes,” Sam said. He grimaced as he took off his boots, muddy footprints already leaving a trail down the bunker stairs. Then he glanced at his phone and smiled, said, “Eileen’s calling.”

“Whipped,” Dean mouthed at him as Sam answered his phone, smiling at the screen and walking off down the hallway. “Well,” he told Cas, ”you look like shit.”

Cas gave him his best, I can smite you even without my grace look. “Charming.” He headed off down the hallway towards their bedroom and Dean followed. “How did Mrs. Landis take the news?”

Dean sucked in a breath. “Uh, 'bout how you'd expect, I guess. Told her a bear had gotten to her son, but it was all taken care of now. Not much else to say.”

The mother had sobbed and thanked him. He’d done a piss poor job of comforting her and left with an all-too-familiar sick feeling in his stomach; they hadn’t done enough, they could never save everyone.

“And you?” Cas asked, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at Dean as he pushed open the door to their bedroom. “Are you alright?”

Dean started to nod, say fine, but he knew Cas would see straight through the lie. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he shrugged, dropping his hands into his lap. “Just shook up. Coulda been a bad one.”

Cas nodded as he pulled off his trenchcoat, the edges bloody and muddy. “We’re all safe. You don’t have to torture yourself thinking about what could’ve happened.”

Dean shut his eyes, took a deep breath. “I know.” Easier said than done.

He heard Cas’s footsteps, then felt Cas’ fingers on his cheek and tilted his head into his palm. Breathed in and out. Cas smelled like blood and guts and sweat, not a particularly pleasant combination, but his hand was warm and his other hand was carding through his hair and, shit, that felt nice.

“Go to sleep,” Cas said quietly. “You need rest.”

Dean nodded and Cas kissed the top of his head. He left to take a shower and Dean scrubbed his hands over his face.

Fuck, this hunt had been a close one. Closer than they’d had in a long time.

Dropping his hands, his eyes settled on the weighted blanket that Cas had left folded on the chair at the desk, a silent plea for him to use it. He rolled his eyes. Anxious, his ass.

He started to pull the covers back on the bed, but the thought of lying down with the hunt running on repeat through his head was less than appealing. Cas’ trenchcoat hung bloody on the wall, and Dean clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking, adrenaline and nerves still rushing through him.

Alright, maybe a little anxious.

With a glance at the door to convince himself Cas would be in the shower for a little while longer, he grabbed the blanket, brought it to their bed.

Getting under the covers, he draped the blanket over himself and lay down, shifting to get comfortable. Once settled, he stared up at the ceiling and waited for the miracle blanket to work its wonders. How much money had Cas spent on this shit? He really had to hide the credit cards.

He shifted again, the mattress creaking, and dropped back with a huff. Not that he didn’t appreciate Cas trying to help, but a twenty-pound blanket wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was a full night of sleep and a blow job and an all-expenses-paid trip to Cancún. His nose was itchy, his knee was bruised, his back was fucked up from getting thrown against a gravestone, Sam had already found another case in Albuquerque, and, fuck, he was just so damn tired.

Shutting his eyes, he forced himself to breathe through the sensation of his chest tightening. He could feel the blanket rise and fall with every deliberate breath, and he counted like Sam had taught him years ago when he’d woken with a panic attack—breathe in for seven seconds, hold for four, let out for eight.

Don’t think about what could’ve happened. We’re all safe. Cas is safe, Sam is safe. I’m safe.

His heartbeat slowly settled. The blanket’s weight was strangely comforting, warm, trapping him under the covers. Forced to stay still, he felt his limbs slowly relax into the mattress, the tenseness in his shoulders dissipating, his back easing and hands curling loosely along the sheets.

Okay. Shit. Maybe there was something to this weighted blanket thing. His mind grew hazier as his thoughts began to wander, and he found himself drifting off to sleep when the bedroom door creaked open and startled his eyes open.

“You’re using it,” Cas whispered excitedly, standing in the doorway. “Are you relaxed?”

“Fuck off,” Dean told him. He would’ve flipped him off, but that would require lifting his hand out from under the blanket and he was too—dammit, Cas was right—relaxed to move.

“I knew it would be perfect,” Cas said, sounding too triumphant. Shutting the door softly, he got into bed next to him—well, tried to. He shoved at the blanket encroaching on his side of the bed. “Dean, move over.”

“Nope.” Dean shut his eyes again. “Reap what you have sown.”

Grumbling, Cas turned off the light and got under the covers with more rustling and movement than necessary. Finally, he settled down. The bunker hummed, the heating running, the pipes in the walls creaking as a shower turned on down the hallway. The blanket heavy on top of him, Dean began to fall asleep again.

“Are you really gonna keep that on all night?” Cas asked, disturbing the quiet.

“Yup.”

Cas huffed and Dean could only keep up the ruse for a few more seconds before lifting the edge of the blanket. “Come on, get under.”

Sliding over, Cas got underneath, and they laid side by side, pressed against each other. Their fingers brushed, and Dean crooked a finger around Cas’ thumb.

“This is nice,” Cas commented, voice quiet. “I’m glad it’s helping.”

“Mhm.” He was starting to think he should’ve bought one of these things a long time ago. He hadn’t realized how strung out he was before until now, all the tension in his body slipping away.

Cas shifted onto his side and Dean blinked open his eyes to look at him. “I guess I was right all along, wasn’t I?”

“Don’t push it.” He caught Cas’ smile in the dark and elbowed him on principle before shifting over to kiss him. Then he tugged at Cas’ arm and turned onto his side, prompting Cas to press close against his back and wrap an arm around him.

He smiled, eyes falling shut at the warm press of the blanket and Cas’ body around his. Now he was relaxed.

tag list:

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @madronasky @famouspsychicpizzabandit @multifandomdisorder @arcticfox007  @improvedpeanut @castiel-is-a-cat @harmonyhelms @thetrueliesofafangirl @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @theangelwiththewormstache @confusedisaster @welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @celestialcastiel

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list :)

#missed all the drama about the 15x20 script bc i was writing this last night #finale who? #dean and cas are alive and thriving #destiel fic #cw anxiety #expectingtofly writes #fluff

[thegeminisage]

my secret galaxy brain reading of spn s11 is better than yours

or: why season 11 is good actually. this is a long-ass meta, so it's going behind the cut

some disclaimers before we get going

absolutely all of this is accidental. nobody does this shit on purpose. this is ~my interpretation~ or whatever. i'm not actually trying to argue the writers meant to do this lol. what i'm saying is that this is the way to make season 11 make sense in your brain because it makes sense in mine and it's one of my FAVORITES. it could be one of your favorites too if you stop limiting yourself

there is heavy discussion of sexual violence in this meta so read safely etc also spoilers for all of s11 obviously

unless you watched the anime, i've seen more supernatural than you have, so i'm right >:)

for the uninitiated, the basic plot of season 11 is that eons and eons ago, before there was heaven or hell or earth or humans or angels, there was only god (chuck) and the darkness (amara). amara kept destroying what god made, so he and the archangels locked her away in a cage, which removing the mark of cain from dean's arm opened. amara escaped and dean was the first thing she saw, so she spends the season using some kind of thrall over him to make him feel drawn to her and unable to hurt her, and also looking for chuck so she can give him a little payback.

ALRIGHT HERE WE GO

season 11 & sexual violence

you don't need to look very far to find examples of sexualized violence and outright sexual violence on supernatural, but s11 is lousy with it. just to name a few examples:

amara's "thrall" on dean, which we will absolutely get into more later

crowley's jokes about altar boys and the tastes of catholic priests

ALLLLL the pedophile jokes made when crowley was raising baby amara

angels torturing cas and threatening to cut his genitals off, only to send in hannah (an angel who formerly had unrequited romantic/sexual feelings for him) to play good cop(/honeypot??) in hopes of making him talk

the return of lucifer, who possessed sam (spn has a history of equating possession and sexual violence) and is heavily implied to have raped sam in hell, and the MULTIPLE times he menaces sam throughout this season, including forcibly touching his soul

lucifer possessing castiel and using him to enact violence on the winchesters, his loved ones

i absolutely REFUSE to acknowledge the lucifer/crowley stuff but if you know you know

the episode with the kissing curse, using "love" as a means to deliver death

dean's possession in the soul eater episode

the "chitters" monsters involving mating, orgies, and forcible impregnation

you get the idea

i could write a whole essay on almost all of these but for this post we'll be sticking mostly to dean & amara

@marcusantonius pointed out while we were watching season 11 that what amara does to dean is basically speedrun his two major attachments - sam and castiel. she starts out as a baby, someone in need of protection, and quickly grows into an adult who attempts to romance/seduce him. the feelings dean has around amara aren't feelings FOR HER, they're feelings he has for SAM AND CAS that are being TRANSFERRED onto her through means of her power. (this is important for later.)

what amara does to dean is sexualized violence bordering on outright sexual assault. compelling him to feel drawn towards her and to protect her, frequently getting in his personal space and touching his face, and even kissing more than once when he is quite literally unable to resist (it's stated many times that he is unable to kill or even harm her, so he is completely helpless in the presence of someone who makes no secret of her intentions for him, sexual or otherwise). 

dean says many times that what he feels for amara is not love or desire or attraction. he can't put a name to it at all - not once in the entire series is he able to properly define this thrall she has over him, which leaves us the audience a little confused (amara asking "what IS happening between us?" in 11.06 as a teenager making sexual advances on a grown man does give me a good laugh, because it was written SO WEIRDLY)... BUT we know that it is definitely sexual in nature, and not at all something dean wants to be happening.

this is addressed kind of strangely in 11.13. the villain of the week is a witch moonlighting as a hairdresser, who puts a kissing curse on her clients. the curse must be passed along like a hot potato - if you kiss someone else, it's passed along to them. if they kiss someone else, it's passed along to them. but eventually, a monster called a qareen will show up in the form of "your deepest desire" and kill you, and work its way backwards to the original curse-ee. in the episode, dean kisses the vic (i'll point out this was also technically done w/o her consent, though it was a very businesslike kiss) to put the curse on himself and protect her. the qareen takes the form of amara, and she gives Dean this little speech:

Qareen!Amara: You're a mystery. I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel. Except it's cloaked in shame. When it comes to this, you can’t help yourself, so why fight it? Just give in.

then, at the end of the episode, after dean reveals who the qareen was for him, we get this conversation between sam and dean: 

Dean: You seriously think the sister of God is my deepest darkest desire? Sam: She isn't? Dean: No! She can’t be! Sam: Why not? Dean: Why? Because if she is that means that I'm… Sam: Means you're what? Complicit? Weak? Evil? Dean: For starters, yeah. Sam: Dean. Do you honestly think you ever had a choice in the matter? She's the sister of God, and for some reason she picked you and that sucks, but if you think I’m gonna blame you or judge you…I'm not.

the "shame" part of both of these is really what stuck out to me - the word itself isn't in the second passage, but dean's vibes are absolutely filled with shame. to me, this always read as being shame about the sexual violence and about the complicity/weakness that "allowed" that violence to happen. 

and as a reminder, sam is just a few episodes past the confrontation with his own rapist (he returns to the cage to speak with lucifer in 11.09 & 11.10, and canonically struggles with what happened there even after the confrontation ends). sam made a point earlier in this episode of making sure the victim of the curse knew it wasn't her fault her husband died, but the fault of the witch who cast the curse. sam is VERY emotionally intelligent, and i honestly believe that he was speaking as one survivor of sexual violence to another here. what he's telling dean is something victims often need to be reminded of: it's not your fault. you weren't complicit, or weak. you didn't have a choice. you don't deserve blame or judgment.

we've had bad guys make sexual threats at both dean and sam many times before this and a few more times after, but as far as i can recall, this is the only conversation in the entire series that even attempts to address the impact of that particular kind of violence on dean. it's short, and strangely written, but nonetheless: there it is.

season 11 & the dean in the closet

for the purposes of this post, i'm not going to go through the entire series and find examples to try and prove dean is bi and has feelings for cas. if you don't believe that then what are you doing here? we're skipping to the goods.

actually, i always got annoyed at people who read the fake-amara's speech in 11.13 (or any of the other times people spoke about dean's shame regarding amara) as being about dean's sexuality, because in my mind it was ABSOLUTELY about his being a victim of sexual violence, which was far more important to me, as it is discussed far less often.

BUT, knowing what we know now (that cas was always canonically in love with dean, and it's all but canon that dean really was bisexual), i'm willing to entertain another notion:

Sam: ...you're what? Complicit? Weak? Evil? Dean: For starters, yeah.

the "evil" bit never really sat right with me as part of the narrative of sexual violence, aside from touching on dean's general self-loathing, but it fits the narrative of being closeted MUCH better. dean, a self-hating homophobic bisexual, would probably use a similar word, if not something heavy as "evil," to describe the way he feels about other men. it's a malevolent feeling. (if you're like me and ascribe to the jackles headcanon that dean resorted to turning tricks to make food money when he was underage, we could also consider the extremely fucked up fact that almost every queer man dean's ever met is someone who hurt him.) 

dean is ashamed of who and what he is, and the way he feels about cas. living like that, that's violence. he lives violently day in and day out with that feeling. (and amara knows it. it's worth nothing that she uses cas to communicate with dean MULTIPLE times in this season, both by carving messages on his body and psychically, through his own connection to dean - and when dean "betrays" her to rescue casifer, she's horrified at whatever she sees in his head.)

equating sexual violence to the violence of being closeted

but what's amazing about this weird badly-written little 11.13 conversation (and indeed, the season-long plotline of dean and his shame) is that we don't HAVE to assign it to the purposes of being about sexual violence OR about being closeted. it can be and IS both. 

my favorite reading of this is that BEING IN THE CLOSET IS INHERENTLY A VIOLENT AND TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCE. many of the same feelings are involved: shame, guilt, self-loathing. sam's comforting words to dean - that he will not be blamed or judged - are equally applicable in both cases. dean is a victim of sexual violence, and he is also in the closet, and both of these experiences are traumatic ones, and they are intermingled with each other in a big way (again, if you're into dean-turned-tricks headcanon, they are intermingled INSEPERABLY - the sexual violence being one of the direct causes of dean not wanting to accept or address his own sexuality).

the bait-and-switch

the real galaxy brain moment of this whole thing begins at the end of 11.22 (an otherwise lackluster episode that played sam's lucifer trauma for laughs how dare they ugh god whatever that's off-topic but i HATE IT) when amara and chuck finally have the confrontation she's been fighting all season for. she is attacked by witches, demons, angels, and then stabbed by lucifer himself, before she's finally on her knees before chuck, and then we get this little exchange:

Chuck: I'm sorry. For this, for everything. Amara: An apology at last. What's sorry to me? I spent millions of years crammed into that cage alone and afraid...

maybe you already know where i'm going with this. a cage isn't so different from a closet when we're working with metaphors, right? 

amara talks about her grievances with chuck many times throughout season 11 - that he was spoiled, that he created the earth to stroke his ego, that he couldn't handle her as she was. and once he finally makes his appearance he tells it his own way - that he had no choice but to lock amara away, that she couldn't stand the things and people he made, that he did it to protect people. but something about THIS conversation in particular - even though it's not written into the dialogue - gives me a particular kind of vibe. 

there is something innately, unspeakably WRONG with amara. i don't mean unspeakable as in very bad, i mean unspeakable as in LITERALLY undefinable. it's just like dean being unable to put a name to the pull she has over him. no one talks directly at it or about it, they go in circles around it, but facts are facts: amara simply couldn't be allowed to exist as she was because there was just something innately wrong with her. and it's this conversation in particular, the first one they have together onscreen, that really slams that feeling home for me.

the entire time chuck and amara are talking, the camera repeatedly cuts to dean - he is so visibly upset that the first time i watched this, i was certain he was about to jump into the middle of things and put himself between the two of them. we're meant to believe that dean has trouble hearing this because he "cares" about amara, but i have a different take.

i think it's empathy. real, actual empathy - not the kind of feeling that amara had to force out.

stay with me here. eventually, after chuck tries to lock amara away again, she gets her second wind, attacks him, and leaves him for dead - and as he dies, the sun dies with him, and so too does all life on earth. 

in the following episode, the finale, amara finds her way to a park, where she takes in god's creation, visibly upset as she realizes that his flowers die at her touch (again, hammering home the point that there is something innately wrong with her that means she cannot live in this world), and eventually speaks with an old lady feeding the birds. 

Woman: Do you want to feed them? Amara: I shouldn't. Woman: I've been feeding these birds going on 20 years now. They're practically family. And I know that makes me sound like a crazy old bat, but...heck. My husband died a couple of years ago, and my son keeps slipping me these brochures for retirement communities - a.k.a. where they send old folks to die, but not to make a fuss about it. Amara: So you hate him. Woman: Well, a little bit. Sometimes. But you know family. Even when you hate them, you still love them.

this speech brings tears to amara's eyes. what's more, she spends this entire section with her hands in her lap. after a season of killing her way through humanity to get god's attention, she is afraid to touch these birds for fear of killing them. she feels empathy for them. she and dean are connected, after all - so as soon as he began to feel true, genuine empathy - so did she.

when dean shows up to kill amara (via a bomb made out of souls hidden in his chest), she immediately clocks his plan. she practically dares him to do it, and - he can't. he is, as always, helpless against her. 

what dean does instead is talk to her. more importantly, he listens to her. when she says her brother sent dean here to execute her, he tells her chuck actually didn't want this - that it was actually his very last resort. he asks her if this, the death of everything, is what she wanted, and she tells him all she really wanted was payback. again, dean EMPATHIZES:

Dean: Yeah, that's revenge. It'll get you out of bed in the morning, and when you get it, it feels great... for about five minutes. I've been there. Me and Sam, we have had our fair share of fights—more than our share. But no matter how bad it got, we always made it right because we're family. I need him. He needs me. And when everything goes to crap, that's all you've got—family. Now you might be a—an all-powerful being...but I think you're human where it counts. You simply need your brother. 

what's really neat about this section, and the scene before it where amara confronts her brother, is that they mark the first times dean felt any sort of genuine emotion for amara at all - one that she didn't force out of him or one that he felt for someone else that she just took for herself. dean genuinely EMPATHIZES with her - after everything she's done to him and his loved ones, and to the people on earth, dean sees the humanity in her. that's kind of his and sam's M.O., loving monsters into men - the number of non-human adversaries who eventually became allies because of the winchesters’ empathy or liking for them or even just their influence is staggering. cas, gabriel, meg, benny, crowley, rowena, metatron, to name a few off the top of my head - and now amara. 

and then we get THIS:

Dean: You don't want to be alone. Not really. I mean, hell. Maybe that's why you wanted me. But deep down, you didn't really want me... 'cause I'm not him.

(emphasis mine)

and here's my galaxy brain take: dean empathizes with amara - TRULY empathizes with her - because they're both queer (or queer-coded). 

I KNOW THIS SOUNDS NUTS BUT LISTEN. this weird creepy stalkery hetero "romance" was fake on both sides all along. dean and amara are the same. that unspeakable and innate wrongness lives in both of them. they're self-loathing and furious at god for his failures and callousness, outcasts in a world that isn't for them, a world that has HURT them simply on account of them being what they are. the violence done to amara was done to her BECAUSE of this unspeakable wrongness about her - her queerness, or her queer-codedness - and we already decided this was, for the purposes of this season, functionally the same violating and traumatic experience as sexual violence.

amara's been using dean to try and replace chuck this entire season. it's some weird comphet bullshit tied in with the fact that dean was the first part of chuck's creation she ever saw. it stands to reason then that she was trying to force dean to be with her and love her the way she wanted to force CHUCK to be with her. that's part of why she started life as a baby - as someone he'd protect as he did his own sibling. 

so in some weird, warped, very roundabout way, amara was enacting on dean the violence that chuck enacted on her - making him feel the same shame and weakness that chuck made HER feel when he locked her away eons ago. if amara unknowingly replaced chuck with dean, then she also unknowingly took part of her revenge on him. the only way she knew how to love someone was to force them to do it, because the only ways she had ever been loved until now involved violence - until dean and his moment of genuine empathy.

consider this final speech:

Dean: Maybe I can kill you. Or maybe I can't. Maybe if I pull this trigger, we all live happily ever after, or maybe we die bloody, or maybe it doesn't matter, because maybe there's a different way. So I'm gonna ask you again. Put aside the rage. Put aside the hate. And you tell me...what do you want?

dean is the only person in BILLIONS of years to ask her this! one queer to another! and it turns out that and all she wanted - the ONLY thing she needed - was to be understood and accepted by her family. immediately after this, amara summons chuck to their park, and the two of them talk it out in what is genuinely a very moving scene. amara - perhaps because of her connection with dean, perhaps because she's finally admitted to herself that she does still love her brother - sees the beauty in the world now, and feels love for it, and she doesn't want to destroy it anymore. 

and at the end, after she's made her peace with god, and the sun has been turned back on, amara says:

Amara: Dean, you gave me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you.

and what do we get at the end of this episode? mary winchester, risen from her grave. dean's family. and - SPOILERS FOR SEASON 12 - though at first mary rejects dean (and sam) as being the same children she remembers from 1983, after a long and rocky road, at the end of the season, they eventually come to a reconciliation where she sees them for who they truly are. it's never ABOUT being queer because this show uses the fucking hays code when it comes to dean's sexuality, but it's still about being queer!! 

dean gave amara what she needed - acceptance from her family - and she gave him that back in turn. all it took, the entire time, was one SHRED of empathy from one queer to another. all dean had to do was recognize her - REALLY recognize her - not as a replacement for sam or cas but as who she really was. and he saw himself in her, and the empathy that followed was genuine because it was the most natural thing in the world. in the end neither dean nor amara needed the "romance" they thought they did/were forced to want. they never did. they only needed acceptance and understanding.

supernatural is always about family and the power of love, and this season is no exception.

other great parts of season 11

if you're still not convinced, season 11 is full of other things that make it amazing:

GOD'S RETURN. after SIX YEARS he's back, this is canon, we finally get to hear what he has to say. they did more with him in a handful of episodes in this season than all of season 15

also, something else returns after six years. i'll give you a hint: it glows hot in god's presence. it was last seen being dropped into a motel trash can.

and of course the big one: lucifer and sam. what great callbacks to seasons 4-6 when lucifer and what he did to sam in hell was actually scary and mattered a lot! lucifer returns to being scary in this and i can't get enough of it.

this is also inseparable from sam's arc involving his faith - he begins praying again, having visions again, and is GUTTED when those prayers and visions lead him back to the place of his worst trauma. he gets to MEET GOD this season. it's fucking insane

the inherent melodrama of castiel, someone loved and trusted by the winchesters, being possessed by someone who they hate and who has hurt them. you get all of the sam drama with him accidentally trusting lucifer with his soul and his brother's life, and all the dean drama where he watches the devil run around in his boyfriend. also, misha collins does an uncanny impression of mark pellegrino. it's actually really creepy

somehow, they managed to make metatron, a deeply hated villain by all, ACTUALLY LIKEABLE. for TWO whole episodes. it was NUTS

this season starts off rowena's long arc with lucifer and her lucifer trauma that eventually becomes the catalyst of her bonding so profoundly with sam <3 best friends forever <333

sam and dean bond with a pair of canonically gay hunters who DON'T DIE

billie is introduced in this season and she's super hot and cool and awesome

eileen is also introduced in this season. her arc mirrors sam's so well, it's SO good. i never though i'd care about sam and a girl who wasn't jess, but i care about them SO MUCH it makes me insane. if you don't love eileen you're wrong!

anyway, watch season 11. it's weird but it's really fucking good. THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK

[spn masterpost]

#supernatural #dean winchester #amara #supernatural meta #destiel #in a roundabout way #i needed a 5th tracked tag lol #i stayed up ALL NIGHT writing this but im gonna be a smartie and schedule it to go up at noon when ppl are awake #liz watches spn #liz's meta #liz's spn stuff #liz makes stuff #long post #just in case the cut fails #this meta really is 3800 words long lol #as a bonus it was implied in late season 10 that amara is the older sibling #even though they retconned it and made them twins later #like amara and dean are both eldest sisters.......

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: Ask Questions, Throw Shield Later.

Intro: Steve and Katie have an unwelcome late night visitor…

Warnings: “Language!” Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing:  Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

W/C: 1.9k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: The first of two (yes, two) special 29th May Birthday One shots. Happy Birthday Tony! Man, I missed writing for these guys in this timeline! This fits into SSB within “I Told You I Said Yes”.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“Fuck, Steve...” Katie groaned, her head tilting backwards as Steve gave another deep thrust upwards, “right there... Jesus.”

“Good?” Steve panted as his hands grabbed her waist, finger tips digging into the flesh that covered her hipbones.

She nodded, grinding on him faster, his hands pulling her down making sure he hit as deep as he could.

Their soft, intimate sounds filled the room and, wanting to be as close to her as he could get, Steve sat up drawing a gasp from Katie as he did so. His hands moved to her back. One splayed half way up her spine, the other cupped the back of her head. His fingers tangled in her long, silky hair as he pulled her face to his. He kissed her, hard, his tongue dominating hers as he swallowed her moan, one that rumbled in her throat as if it came from the depths of her belly.

They’d already danced this tango once already that night. After a few beers with the team in anticipation of Tony’s birthday (minus Natasha as she was still on something Fury was running), they’d retired and gotten a little frisky some two hours prior. But then Steve had woken, his super sharp hearing alerting himself to some form of ransom noise deep in the floors below them and, well, he couldn’t get back to sleep. So he’d hugged Katie close.

Too close.

As ever he was unable to control his reactions to his girl and had ended up with a boner. Meaning she’d woken with him basically rutting up against her back, feigning innocence when she’d given him a grumble at the fact he’d dragged her from her slumber.

She hadn’t been grumbling for long.

“Stevie... I’m gonna...” Katie’s forehead pressed into his, her mouth open as her lips hovered over his, and he thrust upwards again, his nose brushing hers softly, like the touch of a butterfly.

“Let go. Doll,” he panted, actively fighting his own high, “cum for me.”

Her chest heaved, pert nipples brushing his bare skin and her movements stuttered. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, which cracked into a half grunt, half moan as she felt herself go, her body positively floating from her high.

By the time she came round, Steve had also finished, his broad shoulders rising and falling as he gathered his breath. Katie collapsed forward with a soft chuckle, her forehead pressing into his collar bone as he fell backwards, taking her with him.

They lay still for a moment, the only sounds being their heavy breathing and the soft rustle of sheets as Steve pulled the bedding up around them. The smooth cotton brushing over her sensitive skin made Katie shudder a little. Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, his large hands running up and down her spine.

“Am I forgiven for waking you up?” He asked and she shrugged, not even bothering to try and find the strength to sit up. “It’s three AM. I’ll think about it.”

Steve chuckled and she sat up slightly, leaning down to give him a slow kiss.

“Love you.” she pulled back a little, her eyes shining in the dim light, and Steve smiled.

“Love you too.”

Fifteen minutes later they were both settled down and on the verge of sleep once more when a loud crashing in the apartment made them both sit bolt upright.

“What the...” Steve was out of bed in a flash, wrenching the door to their room open.

Katie was seconds behind him, stopping only to grab Steve’s shirt from the chair at the vanity. As she shrugged it on, she ran into the hallway and heard a familiar metallic whoosh. There was the squealing of metal on metal and Katie flicked on the light just in time to see a flash of blue, red and white as Steve’s shield flew back to his hand. He looked over to Katie as she stepped towards him, her mouth falling.

“Is that...” she glanced down at what looked like a version of one of Tony’s suits. It lay motionless on the floor in two pieces, Steve’s shield having severed it at the waist. The failing electrics sparked as the various boards and cogs died, before it fell silent.

Steve nudged it with his foot. It didn’t move. He turned to Katie, a frown on his handsome face.

“Did he tell you he was making them autonomous?”

“That’s nothing new, JARVIS has always been able to control them remotely.” Katie shook her head as she crouched down, her hand gently touching the helmet. She tried to move the face plate but it didn’t open. Rapping her knuckles on the skull, she was met with a solid sound, not the usual hollow echo.  “JARVIS?”

There was no reply.

“Why isn’t he answering?” Steve looked at her.

“Tony might have him down.” Katie answered. “He runs the updates at night some times. I do know one thing though.”

“What?” Steve asked as she stood up.

“That couldn’t have gotten in here without Tony letting it in one way or another.” She glanced at Steve, her pretty face full of annoyance. “Imma kill him, fucking idiot.”

She turned to leave and Steve gently caught her arm. “Honey...”

“Seriously? You want me to let this go?”

“Hell, no.” He shook his head, “I want you to wait for me to put some clothes on.”  

Despite herself, Katie grinned as her eyes scanned Steve’s naked body, his shield still on his arm. He rolled his eyes and nodded to the suit on the floor, “I’m going to give him his property back, along with a piece of my mind.” **** Tony spun round, his brow arching as Steve and Katie walked into the lab. But whatever smart quip he had been about to come out with died as he spotted what was slung over the super soldier’s broad shoulders. With a loud slam, Steve threw the two parts of the robot down on the desk.

“What did you do to it?” Tony moaned.

“Threw my shield at it.” Steve folded his arms over his chest, the sleeves of the white ribbed Tee he had shrugged on straining over his thick biceps.

Tony was that distracted by his destroyed robot that he failed to notice Katie stomping towards him. She drew her right fist back and punched him hard on the shoulder.

“Ow, Kiddo!”

“You dick!” She yelled. “What the hell were you doing sending that into our apartment?”

“Wanted to test your reaction to it.” Tony shrugged. “See how it came across.”

“How it ca- Tony, it’s half past 3 in the morning!” She shrieked.

“Exactly.” Tony scratched his beard. “Total element of surprise. I thought you guys would give me a base of how people would react to them. Can’t have been that well if Spangles felt the need to cut it in half with his frisbee.”

“We had no idea what or who it was.” Steve felt his anger beginning to rise, “what was I supposed to do?”

“I’ve told you before, big guy. Ask questions, throw shield later.” Tony shrugged, “I can’t believe you killed Iron Kid.”

“Iron Kid?” Katie blinked.

“Yeah, the name’s a working progress.”

“Tony, what is it?” Steve pressed.

“It’s a prototype.” Tony informed them. “I had the idea last week. The Avengers exploded after New York. You should see the piles of fan mail that the guys downstairs sort each day.”

“Less bragging, more explaining.” Katie narrowed her eyes.

“The point is, we attract attention. So I had a thought about something that could help keep the public at bay,” Tony gestured to the pile of metal, “we can use them to issue instructions, help aid the emergency services. Keep civilians out of the way.”

Katie and Steve looked at one another, and Steve hated to admit it but the idea made sense.

Sorta.

“Clearly I need to rethink a little.” Tony mused. “I mean if they freaked you out then...” “It freaked us out because it was in. our. apartment!” Katie groaned. “In the middle of the night.”

“That’s the point, it was supposed to have the element of surprise, wake you up.”

“Well there’s your first fuck up!” She hissed. “We were already awake-“

“Why?” Tony frowned

“Because we just finished a great, sweaty sex session.” She shot back and Steve groaned, feeling the heat in his neck as he looked down, his bare toes flexing against the cool floor of the lab. “And you wanna be grateful we had finished because if we hadn’t I’d be really, really mad. You get me?”

“That’s.. disgusting.” Tony wrinkled his nose.

“And you’re an asshole.” Katie shot back.

With a shudder, Tony moved and picked up a screwdriver. He turned the helmet up aside down and opened a small hatch at the back. Stooping slightly, he prodded and poked at something inside.

“Huh, least the main board wasn’t damaged.” He straightened up and turned to face them both. “So, other than scaring the shit out of you what was it like? Voice interface okay? Too much me or not enough me or-“

“There was no voice interface.” Steve replied.

“What?” Tony frowned, “JARVIS was supposed to be controlling it. It should have told you why it was there and-“

“Well he didn’t.” Steve rolled his eyes, his already stretched patience wearing dangerously thin.

“He didn’t...huh?” Tony frowned and Katie moved past him to a computer.

“Oh for the... he’s on mute you dumbass!” She tapped a few buttons and JARVIS’ voice rang out.

“Thank you Miss Stark.”

“Shit.” Tony gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry, buddy. Forgot I turned you off.”

“Mr Stark, may I suggest you call it a night, Sir? It is rather late and you’ve been awake for almost twenty-one hours. Miss Potts instructed me to ensure you-“ “And that is precisely why I did.” Tony rolled his eyes and Katie let out a growl of annoyance

“I’m done. Come on, Steve.”

She stalked towards the door and Tony looked up. “You not gonna wish me happy birthday?”

In response she raised the middle fingers on both her hands, flipping him off over her shoulders as she stomped out of the door.

Steve watched her go before she turned to Tony. “You know, I think you’re onto something. Keeping civilians away would make things a lot easier.”

“Wouldn’t it?” Tony nodded, eagerly. “We’d need a fleet of them, an Iron Fleet, no that’s... like i said, the names a work in progress.”

“We can discuss this tomorrow. Give it some proper though.” Steve took a deep breath. “Just don’t send any more into the apartment, please?”

Tony saluted him and Steve rolled his eyes. He turned to go before he stopped, and looked back at his friend.

“Happy birthday, pal.”

Tony snorted. “Cheers, Spangles.”

Tony watched Steve walk out of the lab, before he glanced back at the destroyed robot.

“Mr Stark... Miss Potts is awake...”

“Ahh shit.” Tony groaned. “How much trouble am I in?”

“I don’t think a Roman Legion would protect you.” JARVIS replied and Tony stilled, a huge grin spreading across his face.

“Iron Legion.” He tossed the screwdriver up in the air and caught it, chuckling. “JARVIS, you are a genius.”

“Why thank you, sir. And now I really must insist you go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m going. Lock everything down will you? Oh, and order us all breakfast from the diner on the corner of fifth.”

“Of course. The usual?”

“Yeah. Have it delivered about 10:30. Should be enough to calm Kiddo down.”

“Very wise Sir. I’ll ensure there’s extra bacon, just in case.”

“Yeah, who doesn’t love extra bacon?”

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

[quillquiver]

a damn good place to start

DeanCas Coda to 15x15, Dean POV, subtextual references to the Empty deal

“…And I know,” Cas is saying, “that things have been a little strained between the two of you, so…” He trails off, looking down at the truck’s keys as he fiddles with them. “I thought it best I go on my own.” He punctuates the end of his little speech with a shrug, surreptitiously looking up at the entrance like it’ll get him outside any faster.

Dean forces a smile to his face, and a nod, and raises the bottle of whiskey to his mouth.

“Dean—”

“Nah,” Dean says, waving him off. “You were just gonna leave, weren’t you? Without telling me? You prob’ly woulda called tomorrow and dropped the bomb and then that’s it, right? I see you when I see you—unless I don’t, ‘cause y’know.” Dean takes another swig. “Death.”

Cas watches him warily.

“I mean, it’s not like you’ve spent every damn moment leaving me lately. First trying to find Amara, now this…”

“That’s not fair.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “Life ain’t fair. Hey, you ever think I might wanna come with you to save the kid?”

“You’re still angry at him—”

“So?” Dean demands. “He’s my kid, too. And you’re—and what, you think it’s just cool that you just take the choice away? That you make the decision? That you throw yourself on the sword every damn time an opportunity rolls around? You need to be here—”

“You’re the one who celebrated our child’s birthday without me, practically pushed me out the door to find Amara, and insisted Jack and I work a completely separate case!”

“Because you do stupid things, Cas! You’re safer here.”

“Well, I wasn’t here when you had that woman over, was I?” Cas rounds. “Mrs. Butters? It seemed you were all doing exceedingly well without me—”

“What the hell are you talking about—”

“Christmas!” Cas explodes. “New years and Thanksgiving a-and whatever other holidays humans have come up with these days to honour family and togetherness! Your complaints are noted, Dean, but as much as you needed me in Purgatory, my presence was clearly not required to celebrate family—”

“That’s fucking bullshit—”

“—At the end of the day, Jack is my son and my responsibility, and I will not stand by—”

“THEN GO!”

Cas freezes.

“…Fucking go, then,” Dean says, swallowing thickly. “You don’t think you’re a part of this family? Fine. I dunno how else to prove it to you. But just know that you left this time. Okay? You left. Not me. And I didn’t push you away.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Oh, and just for the record: Mrs. Butters was forced labour for the Old Men—she showed up out of the blue, and she had real fucked up ideas about family. She didn’t trust us. She didn’t give us space. She wasn’t—anything.”

Cas’s eyes fill with tears and Dean forces himself to watch. To look. Because the last time they talked like this, Castiel walked out the door and didn’t come back, and Dean doesn’t want to miss a second of him, this time. He wants to remember the furrow of his brow and the way he clutches at his keys and how he shuffles in place.

And Dean realizes, suddenly and emphatically, that he can either watch him walk away again, or…

Or.

He takes a deep breath. Steels himself. Tries to remember that this is what you do for people you care about: you help. “Do you have a lead?”

“No, but—”

“Then just…” It’s fucked up, how scary reaching out his hand is; he’s killed more nightmarish shit than any normal person could shake a stick at, but holding out his hand for Cas to take feels like willingly throwing himself from an airplane without knowing his damn parachute works. “Stay tonight,” he says, praying his voice doesn’t shake. “We’ll see if we can get you a lead, and you’re out of here at first light, alright?”

Cas stares.

“I get wanting to save the kid. I do. But you’re no good to anyone dead, and you got nothing to go on. Just—let me help you.”

More staring.

“Cas,” Dean says, verging on begging with the way he wriggles his fingers. Come on come on come on.

“…Okay,” Cas says. He sounds more quietly suspicious than anything else, but all Dean hears is yes, as nimble fingers skate over his palm and grasp his forearm. A warrior’s pact. “First light.”

“First light,” Dean agrees. He carefully steps back towards the library, half-scared that if he turns around Cas’ll just make for the exit. Cas’s hand slips downdown until they’re holding hands.

Dean’s heart leaps and butterflies zing in his belly, and he tries to remember to be grateful of what he has, instead of upset by everything he doesn’t.

***

They cut it close, but Cas has a whisper of a ghost of something potentially useful to go on by the time Dean is walking him to the shitty old truck. He wants to sleep for a year, but even that isn’t as important as this; as Cas throwing arms around Dean’s shoulders and squeezing, murmuring his thanks, itching to get on the road. Dean holds him for just a moment longer. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft with a lack of inhibitions only bone-deep exhaustion can bring. “You’re not replaceable, okay? You gotta come back.”

Cas’s breath hitches. He nods. And Dean’s too tired to stop himself from petting a hand through his soft, dark hair, and too weak to keep himself from smiling after. “Knock ‘em dead, huh?”

When Cas pulls away, his blue eyes are bright with tears. His mouth twists into something agonized, moving like he’s trying to speak but mangling all the words before they get out. “I—Dean, I—”

And, somehow, this part isn’t scary at all.

It’s nothing for Dean to lean in and kiss him, the thing soft and almost absurd in its simplicity. In its sweetness. It’s probably the gentlest kiss Dean has ever given another person, ‘cause—well, Cas shoulders the weight of the world, and this isn’t something else for him to carry. This is something for them to share, even as he clutches at Dean’s robe, even as he cries harder. Even as he pushes forward, Dean keeps him gentle. Soothes him with a hand in his hair and another thumbing at his jaw until they’re kissing in earnest once, twice, three times; again and again and again until Dean loses count.

When Cas pulls away, he wells up again, and Dean shakes his head. He thinks he should be more worried about this—Cas crying is something he’s only ever seen twice before, and it’s never been like this. But the alarm bells are overshadowed by everything else: God, Amara, Jack… if Cas wants to cry, he’s damn well earned it.

He puts his own hand to the one Dean has pressed against his stubbled cheek, squeezing his eyes shut. “Dean, I—”

Dean hushes him. Presses fingertips to Cas’s lips. “Later, okay? When you get back.”

Cas’s face twists into something painful even as he nods, tears spilling once again onto his cheeks as Dean wipes the wet tracks away. He looks beyond agony, like something’s tearing him up from the inside out, and it’s all Dean can do to assuage his fears by kissing him again, saying, “Hey, I know, okay?” And then, “…Me too.”

Cas’s fingers dig into Dean’s biceps. “I wish we had more time.”

“We do.” Cas is clutching at his hands, now, touching him, always touching, as Dean throws caution to the damn wind and presses a kiss to their tangled fingers. “You’re coming back,” he murmurs. “We’re gonna go on dumb dates and you’re gonna have to sit through my Star Wars marathons and I’m gonna make you watch tentacle porn with me. You’re gonna hate it.”

Cas barks out a laugh, sniffling.

“Seriously,” Dean grins. “You’re gonna regret ever letting me kiss you.”

When Cas leans in for the first time, he’s a little clumsy; catching the corner of Dean’s mouth in a kiss so earnest and sweet Dean doesn’t know what to do with himself. When he pulls away, he looks at Dean with intent. “Nothing could ever make me regret that,” he says lowly, seriously. “Nothing.”

It takes another while for Cas to get actually get into the truck—a lot of kissing and promising dumb shit like they’re the leads in a harlequin romance, only separated by the cruel whims of the Universe until they’re reunited for their happily ever after. It’s stupid, but as Dean watches Cas’s rickety old truck drive away, he thinks… maybe it isn’t. Maybe he’s fucking owed that; a life with Cas and Jack and Sam, all of them under the same roof—no one suffering or lying or worried for their lives.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and Dean grins when he sees a heart emoji. Pressing the ‘call’ icon, he holds the thing up to his ear wearing the dumbest grin to ever grace his own stupid face.

Cas picks up on the first ring. “I thought you were supposed to be asleep.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to text and drive.”

“I pulled over.”

Dean beams at his slippers, phone clutched to his ear, blush heating his cheeks. Fine. Okay; maybe they don’t get all the bells and whistles of a harlequin happy ending. But this, right here?

It’s a damn good place to start.

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #spn spoilers #s15 #15x15 #15.15 #spn 15x15 #so just to be clear #when cas is really upset he's upset because of the Empty deal #because Dean has made him beyond happy #but he knows that if he finds a way to save Jack it's over for him #this whole deal thing hurts so much fuck me #adventures in fanfic

[avyssoseleison]

Funnily enough I was going through a lot of your old fics yesterday for nostalgia reasons and now can't stop thinking high school enemies to lovers deancas ideally with some punk!cas nerd!dean maybe? Fully understand if that prompt doesn't tickle your fancy though

Please enjoy these 3.2k of enemies to homework buddies!

“Winchester.”

Dean will ignore him.

“Hey, Winchester!”

Dean will most definitely ignore him. Just keep on walking. If Novak thinks he can’t hear him, surely he’ll leave him alone. He’ll go bother someone else, and Dean will finally be free of him.

“Winchester!”

Dean hears, but doesn’t listen. He starts humming to himself when there’s suddenly a hand on his shoulder, ripping him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, you assbutt!”

And there he is, of course: Castiel Novak. With his dumb boots and even dumber leather jacket, and, dumbest of all, that small little frown that slowly morphs into a way too pleased smile the longer Dean glares at him.

Christ.

By the time when Novak’s smile turns into a full-blown grin, Dean finally musters up the strength to look away. The soft rustle of tree crowns in the distance reminds him of what a great morning he has been having, and what a perfect day it could have been, had Novak decided to leave him alone. As it is, his day might turn out a bit marred, after all. A bit more normal, perhaps.

“‘Assbut’?” Dean quips, way too late. “What kinda insult is that?”

“What kind of delayed comeback is this?” Novak counters. 

“It’s not as delayed as your…” Dean doesn’t really know enough about Novak to be able to insult him in any meaningful way, and what he knows of him, he doesn’t want to use. So, instead, he finishes lamely with, “...development.”

Novak could not look any less impressed, especially because the raise of his eyebrow alone continues their little banter in a manner that clearly suggests that if anyone’s development is delayed, it has to be Dean’s. However, that level of insult is apparently not one Novak deigns to lower himself to, as he continues to look smug while busying himself with lighting a cigarette and blowing out a lungful of smoke with obvious relish.

Dean makes a face and pointedly waves his hand in front of his face. “Smoking’s bad for you,” he simply states, making Novak chuckle lightly.

“So’s a lot of things, if society is to be believed. I am not much of a believer, though, and I do enjoy the small pleasures in life.”

The small, self-satisfied smile Novak shoots him sends a strange feeling through Dean’s body, from his lips down to his very toes, and everything in-between.

Dean swallows. “What do you want, Novak?”

“Oh, nothing much.” Novak takes a drag while trotting along Dean who starts moving again, trying to put some distance between himself and the self-proclaimed anarchist. “I just have a small favor to ask you,” he says, sounding as though whatever he is asking for is actually not that small at all.

“Again?” Dean grumbles, thinking of Novak quickly copying his homework last week, secluded in that small parking lot that no one but Novak and some people in the know ever seem to use, and of what Novak did in return. “I’m not doing you any more favors, man,” Dean scoffs, and stomps on.

Nonetheless, Novak stays hot on his heels.

“Why not?” Novak presses, “I’m not asking for much -- I just need today’s Math homework. I didn’t hear Mr. Singer give us any, but Meg just told me he wanted us to solve like 15 fucking problems, and she didn’t do them either.“

“Of course not.“ Anything else would’ve been shocking enough — if Novak has a bad reputation, Meg Masters‘ is even worse. All kinds of rumors are going around about her, ranging from drug use to prostitution to downright witchcraft. Although Dean cannot confirm nor deny any of the rumors, he is inclined to believe most of them. And Meg Masters herself would probably laughingly accept any accusations -- she is that kind of person. And although Dean cannot help but grudgingly respect her for her attitude, he also resents her for it: and how could he not, when he works so hard to do what is asked of him, and stick to the rules? Yeah, the only way someone like Meg could shock Dean would be to actually do her homework for a change.

“Now, now,“ Novak chides playfully, even if it doesn’t seem like he cares all that much about it. “Meg does her best.“

“Just like you do, huh?“

At that, Novak‘s grin turns darker, a bit more dangerous. “So harsh, Winchester. I think you know better than most how sometimes, things are not as easy as they seem. That circumstances are different for everyone.“

“Yeah, yeah,“ Dean dismisses, with a pang in his chest, though he gets it. Unfortunately, he really does. “Anyway, I won’t give you the homework.“

“Why not?“

“Because why would I? I don’t like you and you only hit me up when you need stuff from me. Besides...“ he begins, then swallows back a proper explanation. “You know why.“

“Oh, I do?“

“You damn well know you do.“

“Hmm, alright.“ Novak takes another drag, unbothered. “Listen, if you give me today’s homework, I’ll make it worth your while.“

“Not interested,“ Dean says, already having a hunch of where this is going.

“No? Could be something similar to last time. You liked last time’s payment, didn’t you?” Novak asks, and it’s just like Dean expected.

Dean avidly fixes his gaze on the school building, still hidden behind some trees, but not too far off anymore. He will be safe there -- Novak would never dream of bothering him where anyone else could see. 

“I fucking did not,” he argues, already feeling heat creep into his cheeks.

“Really? I could’ve sworn you did, what with all the blushing and squirming and your pants going--”

“Novak!” Dean barks with a swelling sense of despair. His entire face feels hot by now, and is probably as red as a tomato, “I sure as hell did not enjoy whatever you call ‘payment’ for last week. Besides, I wouldn’t even call it ‘payment’ so much as fucking ‘harassment’.”

There is a beat of silence. Then, “Are you serious?” Novak asks, in an unidentifiable tone of voice.

“‘Harassment’, ‘molestation’, ‘taking advantage’,” Dean recites, enjoying this now that he is gaining momentum. “You call it payment, I call it an affront, and--”

“Is that really what you think, Winchester?” Novak cuts in at the same time he stands still, his eyebrows drawn together in an unfamiliarly serious way. “That I harassed you?”

Dean stops as well. He looks back at Novak, his straight back and straightforward face, the way that he seems not just annoyed by the accusation, as Dean would have expected, but unsettled. As if he were taking Dean’s half-joke seriously, and reconsidering his own course of action.

Guilt wells up in Dean, and he holds his hands up in reassurance. “I didn’t--” he doesn’t know how to actually finish that sentence, so he just leaves it hanging.

There is nothing to say there, not really. What Dean said was half in jest, and half in… half in what he knows anyone else would think of the situation, or should think. It’s what Dean himself should think: that it was unexpected, unwanted, unreciprocated. That his animosity towards Novak just grew over it, that he truly hates him now. That there was no part of Dean that enjoyed any of it, no part of him that longs to do it again.

Novak keeps staring at him, though, reassessing. His stillness is as unnerving as his little smiles and contemplative looks usually are, even if in different ways. Regardless, he seems to come to some sort of conclusion as he takes in Dean’s still figure, the flush in his cheeks and whatever else there is to see, since he suddenly steps forward, closer towards him again.

“Harassment, was it?” Novak says, now with cold fire burning in his eyes that takes away Dean’s breath for just a moment. “Because I do seem to remember that you were the one who not only told me it was okay if I gave you a kiss on the cheek, but turned it into something more. By turning your head, parting your lips, not letting me go. You were the one who slipped me the tongue and kept going and going. You were the one who begged me to do more, kiss you more, touch you more, fu--”

“No!” Dean interrupts him, with burning cheeks and a stomach that has already dropped all the way down. “S-Stop making shit up, Novak. You know I’m not like that -- I’m not like you --, so I’d really appreciate it if you could leave me out of your fantasies. You were the one who harassed me--”

“--I just said--”

“--who pushed me to give him my homework in the first place--”

“--I asked you if it was okay to--”

“--and who made me do something I sure as hell neither enjoyed nor wanna do again.”

“Oh, really?” Novak asked, raising an eyebrow, in what might constitute a challenge or a feeling of false imputation, or both. “So, if I told you I’d love to kiss you again if you let me copy your math homework, you’d tell me no? Would what, cry harassment again if I dared touch so much as your wrist or even came close to you again? Or,” he continues, voice dropping into a darker tone while he does indeed inch closer towards Dean, close enough to touch him, and who remains where he is, rooted to the spot, “would you tell someone about it? Mr. Singer, perhaps? Or the counselor? Hmm, one thing’s for sure, though.” He laughs, but there’s no humor behind it. It sounds pained, even to Dean’s ears, knowing. “You wouldn’t tell your dad, would you? That you made out with a guy, and liked it? That you wouldn’t mind doing it again, given the right circumstances, some good excuse? Such as taking the long way to where you’ve parked your car, past the small parking lot you know where mine is and where I usually hang out? So that, I don’t know, perhaps I might come over when I see you, and all you had to do was bat your long lashes at me, bite your pretty lips, and wait for me to make a move again?”

It feels as if all the air is sucked out of Dean’s lungs. Standing there in front of Novak, feeling the heat of both his words and his body, he feels seen-through, known; and as lacerated and repugnant as an open wound.

Dean  wants to draw back into himself, into his safe shell, but he can’t. “You’re ridiculous, man,” is all he can mumble out in return as he twists his gaze away from Novak.

They remain there like this for God knows how long. Dean, looking somewhere between their feet and Novak’s almost heaving chest, and Novak, with his face hidden from Dean’s view, but his hands clenched into fists.

By the time Novak’s hands open again, it feels as though an hour has passed, though it probably were mere minutes.

“Alright,” Novak blows out on a breath, “let me make you a deal. Just so we’re on the same page, and we’re both absolutely clear on what is okay and what might be harassment or anything of the sort.”

Hearing Novak say that word again revives the feelings of guilt in Dean, but he knows he’s made his bed, so now he has to lie in it. So, he swallows and nods, feeling all of his body tense. “What kinda deal?”

“It goes like this: you either refuse to let me copy your homework and I won’t ever touch, much less kiss, you ever again. I’ll leave you alone. Or, you allow me to copy today’s homework at the very least, so Mr. Singer won’t call my foster home again, and you can choose whatever payment you want, as long as it’s somewhat reasonable. Money, cigarettes, beer, anything you want me to do, you name it. As long as you name it. I won’t give you what you’re not explicitly asking for.”

Dean frowns. “What? How is that a deal? It’s either you win or I do, no in-between. I mean, fine by me, but you get nothing out of it, so what gives?”

“It’s not that bad of a deal,“ Novak says, finally flinging his cigarette to the ground and grinding it out. 

He gives no further explanation, though, which gets on Dean’s nerves even more. “You suck at coming up with deals, you know that?“

“Not really,“ Novak says, shrugging a little. “As I see it, it‘s win-win for you and win-lose for me. Which, for me, too: is fine. It all depends on what you want.” There’s something strangely soft in the way he is looking at Dean, something almost wistful. “And on whether you’ll actually express it.”

Put on the spot yet not, there isn’t much for Dean to do but nod in acquiescence. He’d like to pretend he still doesn’t get what Novak is going for, but he does, deep down. It’s both an in and an out -- what he was hoping for, but couldn't have asked for. Now he has to ask for what he wants, and if he doesn’t, he won’t get it. And he’s not sure he can. Not when there’s rules and expectations and the shadow of a man larger than Dean, larger than life itself, endlessly looming over him.

“Okay,” Dean says, pinching the bridge of his nose. Novak keeps staring at him in that stiffly intense way of his. “Alright. I mean, it probably would be pretty bad if you turned up without homework again, huh? Last I heard, you got into some pretty dire straits when Mr. Singer called your foster home, right?”

Novak huffs out a sound of amusement, his shoulders sinking in what looks like relief. “You’re well-informed.”

A furious blush threatens to stain Dean’s cheeks again. “It’s just what I heard. People talk. About you. And, uh, everyone else, I guess.”

There it is again, that soft expression. And Dean thinks he might recognize it now, impossible enough: Novak looks fond.

“They do,” Novak agrees, showing no offense at any possible implications of him being the talk of the school, which he most definitely is. “And yes, it was ‘pretty bad’, as you’ve said. I’d much rather not have a repeat performance.”

“Easy way to avoid it.”

“Yes, I’m working on it at the very moment.”

In spite of himself, Dean huffs out a laugh. “I meant doing your own damn homework. I know you’re smart enough to do it, even if you barely show up in class. You ace all the tests even when you weren’t there, so I don’t believe you couldn’t just as well hand in your homework if you fucking wanted to.”

Novak hums in open amusement. “Is that your own observation or people talking again?”

Feeling as though caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Dean just lamely stammers out a, “It’s-- it’s common knowledge, okay?” before setting into motion again.

Novak’s laughter follows him the first few steps, then he is beside him again.

“Who knows, maybe you’re right and I could take care of my own homework. But maybe I like not doing so, and asking certain other people for it instead.”

It’s obvious what -- or rather, who -- he means by that, that Dean is pretty sure his skin will never be anything but pink again. “Oh yeah?” he needles, “You got many people doing your homework? Giving them the same payment, too?”

“No,” Novak replies surprisingly quickly, “there’s only one person, and only one time I offered that type of payment.”

For a minute, they walk in silence as they almost reach the stairs of the school house. There’s few other people around, most of them just entering the building or looking at their phones, unheeding of the pair.

“So, we have a deal?” Novak eventually asks into their waiting silence.

“You can have today’s homework,” Dean relents, holding out on what he knows Novak is actually going for.

“Thank you, Dean,” Novak says with a gummy smile.

The sound of his name stirs Dean him up a bit more, reminding him of the only other time when Novak called him by his first name: when he was crowding Dean up against a wall, removing his glasses, and kissing his cheek so softly that Dean needed more, needed to be closer to this other guy, to this enigma of a person.

“Don’t mention it,” Dean mumbles.

“As for your payment…?” Novak probes, though with his voice in a whisper as they are close enough to other people now that they might otherwise be overheard.

“Don’t know yet,” Dean says, his voice clipped.

“I’m sure you already have something in mind.“ It’s completely uncalled for Novak to say this in such a low and heady way.

“Maybe you do, but I don’t.“ He doesn’t know, he thinks. He can’t, is why. He won’t, he tells himself.

“Dean,” Novak says, using his first name again, as if they were friends or something more, sounding intimate in the most casual way, and that does it.

“Damnit, Novak, I want—“ Dean bursts out.

Novak looks at him in expectation, all of him turned towards Dean, listening.

He won’t, he won’t, he can’t.

Can’t he?

“—time,“ Dean finishes lamely.

Novak pulls a face that clearly says, ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed.’

Which is all the worse.

“Listen, Novak, you… you might be right.“ Dean pulls a face. “I can’t believe I just said that. But yeah, I might have an idea of what I want, what I’d like to have,” he pointedly does not look at the other boy or anything else but straight towards the school. “But you’re also right in that my dad wouldn’t— I can’t--” He swallows, tries to shake the thought out of his head, but it unfortunately stays stuck. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll think about it, okay?”

“You will?” Novak asks, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah, sure. Maybe.“ He blows out his breath, scrubs a hand through his own hair, and continues, “Might take me some time, though. Maybe a long time. Maybe forever.“ He laughs mirthlessly. “So, today’s homework might actually turn out to be a freebie for you.”

The expression on Novak‘s face is hard to read, but undeniably one he usually does not show in public. For a second there, Dean thinks Novak wants to reach for him: his hand lifts and opens just so, swerving in his direction. Before anything comes off it, though, he drops his hand again, burrows it in his pocket and says, “Take all the time you need, Dean.“

He might have to, Dean thinks. Probably nothing will come of this, not right now, maybe not for as long as he is as young as he is, dependent on his father’s will, bound to him for freedom. Perhaps, though, some other time, in some distant future, or hidden behind some bleachers, he might find a taste of liberation, or the touch of Novak’s lips again.

Dean turns away from the other boy as the school bell rings, the call-back to the present not quite as oppressive with blue eyes and a soft smile still impressed on his mind.

#simpingfortimstoker #miriam writes #destiel #punk!cas #nerd!dean #spn #oooooooh boy this was a pain and a half to write #not because of the prompt itself but because i wrote the story in chunks over a couple of days #and about halfway through the tone suddenly changed so i had to readjust (rewrite) what i already had #and ive been struggling to make this into something that i like #but i actually like how this turned out (and am shocked by its length lmao) #and i hope you like it as well! #funnily enough i usually skip punk cas stuff but when i read your prompt an idea immediately came to mind #and i was like 'yeah lets give this a try!!' #fanfiction

[wayward-dreamer]

Life’s Lessons - Part 2

Title: Life’s Lessons - A Lesson in Fitting In

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader (eventual)

Other Pairings: Dean x Lisa, Female!Reader x OMC – Ethan (past, mentioned)

Other characters: OFC’s: Emily Charlton; Olivia; Katie (Y/N’s best friend)

Word Count: 4,778 (song lyrics in italics). 

Part Summary: Y/N has survived her first week in a new town. However, after discovering that Dean and Lisa are in fact a couple, she wants nothing more than to lock herself up in her house. The neighborhood Saturday barbecue comes around, and Y/N finds herself by his side when Lisa isn’t around. Their conversation brings up some thoughts for her about Dean and Lisa’s so-called ‘perfect’ relationship.

Warnings: swearing, slight angst, reader misses her family, mentions of past family struggles, mentions of reader’s ex.

Music: All The Pretty Girls by Kaleo (Y/N unpacking scene), Howling at Nothing by Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats (BBQ scene), You Make Loving Fun by Fleetwood Mac (Dean and Y/N conversation).

A/N: Here’s Part 2! I’m so glad everyone liked the first part, and it’s been great to hear what you think about what might happen! Keep sending your theories and thoughts in, I love hearing what y’all think! Happy reading! :)

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics! Check her out for all your AU needs!!! 

Y/N’s first week didn’t go as great as she expected.

She naively thought things would be good after the first day, which had started a little wonky but ended up being better once she met Cas and Charlie. She had become really friendly with them, and she was glad that they were a highlight of each day. Her 7th graders were great, but she had to do a lot of work with them to make them come out of their shells. Her 8th graders on the other hand… she just didn’t understand how to get through to them. Some of them were loud and disruptive, a couple of them were bullying another girl, and others just didn’t seem to care at all. Ben was a good kid, but he got easily swayed by the loud ones. They had so much potential, and they had to start being better if they were ever going to survive high school.

She walked out of the grocery store, pushing a shopping cart with two heavy brown bags. After finishing up at school, she decided to go and buy a few essentials plus some stuff to make dinner. She was looking forward to a nice meal she cooked and a glass of wine, maybe two. As she drove through town to get home, she smiled. Despite everything, Lawrence was a peaceful town. She had to hope that she could strap in and really get through to the kids, so that living here would be worth it.

As she drove down her street, she smiled as she saw Dean sitting on his porch steps. She pulled into her driveway and got out of the car, smiling as she saw him talking on the phone. She walked over to her trunk and opened it, picking up the two bags in there. She left the trunk open, as she struggled to hold the bags, cursing the guy at the check-out for filling them so much to save on bags. Suddenly, there was a pressure on one of the bags, as it ripped at the bottom, not being able to handle the weight of the items. Two cans fell and started rolling down her driveway.

“Shit!” she yelled, as she manoeuvred the bags and tried to hold them both in one arm.

Dean, who was still on the phone as he sat on the porch steps, saw everything from across the street.

“Sammy, let me call you back” He quickly hung up the phone and rushed across the street. He got to the end of the driveway just in time and swept up the rolling cans. Y/N saw him and beamed, relieved.

“Thank you” she breathed heavily.

“No problem, can’t have run away cans on the street” he smiled, as he continued to hold them. “Here, let me get that for ya.”

He picked up the broken bag from her arm and held it, his hand at the bottom.

“Between my furniture and my groceries, I think you’re my savior” she laughed.

Dean shook his head, a smirk on his face. “I take the job very seriously.”

“I hope that call wasn’t important?” she asked, knowing he had been on the phone with someone.

“Nah, just my pain in the ass little brother. It’s okay, he’ll get over it” he replied, laughing slightly.

Y/N laughed with him, getting lost in his green eyes again. He looked even more sexy and handsome today, now wearing a red and black plaid shirt on top of a black t-shirt and dark blue jeans. She had told herself she’d wait to ask him for dinner, and now she couldn’t think of a more perfect time, having just saved the items for dinner.

“Hey, um… are you doing anything tonight? I was going to make dinner for myself but if you’re free-” she started to ask but got cut off by a voice coming from his house.

“Dean!” a female voice called as she came out onto his porch.

Y/N’s heart sunk as Ben’s mother, Lisa, came out and looked around. When she spotted him, she waved him in.

“Can you help with dinner?” she asked and then walked back inside the house. Y/N had never seen which house Lisa and Ben had come from that day, so this was shocking. The guy she was kind of crushing on was Lisa’s boyfriend. Ben’s dad. Fucking great.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize-” Y/N started but Dean shook his head.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I should go” he helped her take the bags inside the house and then awkwardly stood there.

“I’ll see ya around” he gave her a quick nod before he rushed off, before she could say anything.

Y/N frowned as she closed the door behind him. She leaned her head against it as she groaned. Why did she have to start liking him without knowing his situation? She moved away from the door and walked into the kitchen. She was going to get started on dinner for one and try to stop thinking about her ridiculously good-looking neighbor.

Dean walked into his house, finding Lisa in the kitchen. She had a blank expression on her face, as she chopped up the vegetables.

“What do you need?” he asked.

“Why were you talking to Y/N?” she asked in return, abruptly.

Dean blinked a few times, confused by her question. “She was just struggling with some broken grocery bags. I helped her.”

“Whatever” she mumbled, as she moved away to the stove.

Dean shook his head, walking out of the kitchen and to the backyard. Lisa was suddenly in one of her moods and he needed to get away. He usually hid out in the garage until things cooled down with her.

Y/N was thankful to have finished her first week and now move into another Saturday. She still had a few boxes that needed to be emptied, having done most of them last week and then sporadically through the week. She was going to do that in the morning and then look over her plans for the next week of school, before chilling that night and having a drink.

After a quick breakfast and putting on one of her phone playlists this time, she got started as her favorite Kaleo song came through the speakers. She smiled sadly as she put up some of the pictures she hadn’t yet, her heart aching knowing she had left her family behind. One of her with her sister and parents. One of her sister and brother-in-law with her nieces; the younger one having just been born before Y/N had to leave. One of just her and her sister. This was the one thing that made her regret leaving: her family. She stepped back as she looked at the photos on the mantel above the fireplace, remembering all the wonderful times she had with her loved ones.

The doorbell rang, interrupting her thoughts. As she walked to the door, Y/N looked up at the clock, seeing it was 12.30pm already. She opened the door, her smile becoming a bit forced once she saw it was Emily Charlton, one of her middle-aged divorced neighbors. She had already been over several times that week with baked goods, which she ended up feeding to the birds after one bite.

“Hi, Emily. What can I do for you?” she asked, politely and hoping the woman would leave soon.

“I’m just here to find out if you got the fliers in your mail about the barbecue today” she replied, her big white teeth beaming.

“Oh, yeah, I did see that” Y/N said, remembering the two fliers she had received.

“Well, it’s at Sid and Olivia’s and starts at 1, and it would be good for everyone to meet you” Emily continued to smile. She pointed at the house, then primped her blonde hair with her long acrylic nails.

Y/N rolled her eyes while she wasn’t looking. “I’m sorry, Emily, I can’t. I just have a lot of work to do-” she started but Emily waved a finger, her fake nails looking like they could gauge an eye out.

“Nonsense, I absolutely insist on you coming to lunch. There’s still so many on the street you haven’t met yet” she insisted.

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. It was better to give in than keep arguing. “Sure.”

Emily laughed in a high pitch tone, making Y/N cringe. “Wonderful!”

“Great” she mumbled, under her breath.

“So, we’ll see you soon, and uh” Emily looked her up and down, causing Y/N to frown. She looked down at herself, dressed in just a loose, plain red t-shirt and her boyfriend jeans. Emily smiled one more time, fake as ever, before she strutted off.

Y/N closed the door, wanting to shut everyone and everything out, but she wasn’t going to do that. She was going to glam herself up and go to the barbecue, to rub it in Emily Charlton’s face that she could be fake all she wanted, it wasn’t going to affect her.

She frowned as she thought about how she shouldn’t go there empty-handed. If she did, she’d probably be the talk of the street and be highly judged for it. She normally didn’t care what people thought of her, but in this case, if she could avoid it, she would. It was better to be slightly late. Plus, who showed up right on time, anyway? She quickly searched around in her kitchen cupboards and found a box of Betty Crocker brownies in her pantry. She quickly made the pre-mix. She smiled. She was good, even in a time crunch. No one needed to know they were from a box. She put the brownies into the oven and set the timer.

Y/N showered and washed her hair, drying it into a natural, summer-y look once she got out. She got dressed into a red, cap sleeve summer dress, with a small white flower print on it. Looking at the clock, she saw that it was 1pm.

When the timer went off, she walked back into the kitchen and took out the brownies, waiting for them to cool. She went back into her room and applied her make-up, keeping it simple with a little foundation, some mascara and a little lip gloss. She put on her wedge heels and her small bag across her body. After a few minutes when she was dressed and ready, she cut the brownies and put them in a container. She put her sunglasses on, before walking out of the house. She locked up and put her keys in her bag, climbing down her porch stairs before walking down the street.

Y/N was nervous to be around so many people, hearing the sounds of music and laughter coming from Sid’s house. Especially if most of those people turned out to be like Emily Charlton, but she couldn’t let them scare her if they were. She wouldn’t let anyone overwhelm her and push her around again. She had suffered enough the first time, and she wouldn’t let it happen again.

She saw some people walk in through the side entrance to the backyard, as some older teens played touch football in the front yard. Y/N followed behind those people, looking out for Sid or Olivia. She looked around the large backyard as Nathaniel Rateliff crooned away from the large speaker on the back porch. She had seen them around, Emily telling her who they were, so Y/N hoped she could spot them properly and didn’t confuse them for someone else. Luckily, she heard Emily’s high pitched “Olivia!” and saw her hugging another blonde woman.

Y/N walked over, putting her sunglasses on her head. She smiled as she approached Olivia, laughing to herself as her face looked just as uncomfortable to be around Emily.

“Olivia, hi. I’m Y/N” she said, smiling.

“Oh yes, so good to finally meet you” Olivia smiled, shaking her hand. “Emily told me about you, welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Hello again, Y/N” Emily’s fake smile beaming once again.

“Hi” Y/N nodded at her before turning back to Olivia. “I thought I’d bring a little something.”

She handed over the container.

“Oh, you didn’t have to, but thank you. Okay, Sid’s handling the grill and there’s already plenty, so please help yourself. Can I get you a beer? Wine? Something stronger to deal with Emily?” Olivia laughed, when Emily had walked off to speak to someone else.

Y/N’s eyes widened with surprise, as she laughed too. She liked Olivia already.

“A beer would be great” she continued to laugh.

Olivia bent down and took a beer out of an ice bucket. She opened the lid with a bottle opener and handed it to her.

“So, what do you do, Y/N?” Olivia asked, as she sipped her wine. She started walking towards the food table and Y/N followed beside her.

“I’m an English teacher, junior high” Y/N replied, before taking a sip of her beer.

Olivia stopped and smiled at her, a fondness in her eyes, which Y/N would’ve found strange but something about her look was pleasant.

“My mom was an English teacher. She passed last year, but it still feels like yesterday” Olivia quietly told her.

“I’m sorry, Olivia” Y/N gave her a sad smile. “She must’ve been amazing, if she was anything like her daughter.”

Olivia beamed; her eyes slightly watery. She wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders as they walked towards the food table.

Y/N’s smile dropped when she saw who was standing at the table. Lisa was shifting things around, making place for everything on the table. Dean, who was dressed in jeans and black half-sleeve button-up shirt, came up behind her. She turned her head and kissed him on the cheek. Y/N felt a tightness in her chest but chose to ignore it. Olivia walked over to the table and placed her container down, making some small talk with Lisa. Dean turned his head, smiling when he saw Y/N.

Dean could feel his heart racing. She was stunning, every single thing about her. From her hair, to the way she looked in that summer dress, which had a slit on the side, giving a peek of her smooth leg. He couldn’t be looking at her, not with Lisa standing right next to him. Y/N smiled in return, getting lost in his features yet again. He was so incredibly good-looking, it hurt to look at him.

Y/N looked away from him when Olivia tapped her shoulder. She smiled at her, trying not to let it show that she and Dean had been staring at each other.

“Aren’t they perfect together?” Olivia said, not really seeking a reply as she smiled at Dean and Lisa.

“Yeah.” Y/N smile faltered.

“So, help yourself. I’m just going to check in with Sid and see if he needs anything. I’ll be back” Olivia walked off, leaving her to go to her husband.

Y/N walked closer to the table, trying to smile when Lisa noticed her.

“Hi, good to see you” Lisa smiled. “Can I get you anything?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I’ll help myself, thanks.”

“Okay” Lisa turned from her to Dean. “I’m just going to check where Ben is, can you plate some for me?” she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“Sure” he nodded, before grabbing a plate and putting food on it.

Y/N smiled as Lisa walked past her and then looked over at Dean. She didn’t know for sure, but it felt like Lisa was being a bit aloof with her. She chose to ignore it for now. She walked closer to the table, and Dean looked up at her.

“It’s really good to see you” he said. The way he was looking at her was different to how he had been looking at Lisa.

She felt her cheeks get a little hot. “It’s good to see you, too.” Y/N started to put some food on her plate.

“So, how-” he started but was cut off by a shrill voice calling out her name.

“Y/N! Get over here, young lady!” Emily yelled from across the yard. She had a gaggle of middle-aged women around her.

She turned back to Dean; her eyes wide. “Is there any way I can get out of going there?”

Dean laughed. “Afraid not.”

She groaned, as she closed her eyes. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it” Dean smirked.

Y/N opened her eyes, smiling when she saw him smirking at her.

“You can handle a few divorcee’s and housewives” he assured her.

She bit her lip, as she shook her head. Somehow, he had managed to ease her mind. “Thanks.”

Y/N took her plate and beer, throwing her shoulders back and walking over there with confidence. Dean admired her as she walked away, checking her out as her hips swayed. It was dangerous to be doing that with so many people around, but he took his chance. He picked up two plates and walked away from the table, in search of Lisa.

Y/N couldn’t hide the boredom on her face, as the divorcee’s and housewives asked her questions about her life. 

“So, Y/N, are you seeing anyone special?” one woman asked.

“Nope” Y/N answered around a mouthful of hot dog, not really caring about anything other than food at that point.

“Why not? A pretty, young girl like you” equally nosey Jill, added.

Y/N shrugged, still eating. “I just got here and want to take my time, you know?”

Emily shook her head. “No, there’s definitely more to the story. It was a bad break up, wasn’t it? That’s why you moved here.”

Y/N frowned, glaring at Emily. “You know, it’s really not something I want to talk about.”

“Oh, Y/N, if you don’t talk to us, who can you talk to? We’re here to help” Emily gave her the best sympathetic face she could probably muster.

“You know what? You could help me with this” Y/N handed Emily the empty plate. “I’m going to get another beer.”

She didn’t stick around to see the shock on Emily’s face to her abrupt departure and Y/N’s plate in her hand.

Y/N felt the anger simmering in her belly as she walked away. The last thing she needed was advice from that woman. She just wanted to grab a beer and go sit somewhere in the front yard, away from everyone else. She picked up a bottle and opened it, taking a sip as she walked away. She walked out to the front yard and looked around. There was a large tree with good shade near the fence, which would be nice and secluded. As she walked closer, she noticed someone leaning against it. She walked around, smiling when she saw Dean with a beer in his hands.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked.

“‘Course not” he smirked, as he shifted over.

“I seriously had to get away from those women” Y/N groaned, sitting down on the ground next to him.

“Yeah, they’ll do that to ya” he laughed, sipping his beer.

“Well, I handled it like you said” she smiled, holding her bottle towards him.

He nodded, approvingly, clinking his bottle to hers. “Nice.”

A comfortable silence fell between them, as Fleetwood Mac could be heard from the backyard. Y/N looked at him, appreciating his features now that she was closer. Freckles scattered under his eyes and on his nose, and his eyes were even more striking up close.

“So…” she trailed off, thinking of what to ask him. “Did you grow up here?”

He nodded, a small smile appearing on his face. “Yeah, born and raised. My parents are still in the same house we grew up in. My little brother lives in Kansas City with his wife.”

“Are you and your brother close?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s always been me and Sammy. I mean, don’t get me wrong, my parents were good with us, but there were times when they’d fight, and I’d have to look out for him” he replied, looking down at his bottle.

Y/N frowned, and Dean noticed. “Oh, don’t worry, my parents were great, it’s just sometimes… they didn’t see eye to eye, you know? They’re good now, though. Have been for a long time.”

She smiled, seeing how fondly he spoke of his family. They must’ve been close. She was missing hers a lot.

“What about you?” he asked in return.

“I was born and raised in Rhinebeck, New York. No brother, but sister instead. She’s married to a great guy, so he definitely feels like a brother” she told him, a sad smile on her face. “They have two beautiful daughters, one was just born before I left so I’m going to miss seeing her.”

“Wow. From New York to Kansas” he muttered, laughing. She joined in. “Why the big move?” he wondered, as he took another sip of his beer.

“I…” she breathed out, shaking her head. “I needed to get away. It just became… too much.”

Dean nodded, but he understood that that wasn’t the whole story.

“But this is a great town, not too different from back home, so that’s a plus” she said, smiling at him.

Dean smiled in return. “That’s great.”

They looked into each other eyes, and she felt that familiar fluttering in her stomach.

Don't, don't break the spell It would be different and you know it will You, you make loving fun And I don't have to tell you but you're the only one

The words of the song were beginning to freak her out as they maintained eye contact. Y/N quickly looked away. This was unsafe ground they were about to tread.

“How’d you meet Lisa?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.

Dean breathed deep, with a long exhale. “She was here from Indiana visiting some friends, and we met one night at a bar. It was a one-time thing, but then a few months later she moved here with Ben when she got a job opportunity. We met up again… and we’ve been together three years.”

“Wait…” she thought about everything he just said, suddenly confused. “Ben’s-”

“Yeah, he’s… not mine, technically. It feels like he is, though” Dean finished for her.

“Gosh, I really should’ve guessed with the last names” she shook her head, rolling her eyes at herself for not realizing sooner.

“It’s all good, Y/N” he chuckled.

“Well, you guys look really close” she said, trying to sound happy.

“Yeah” he huffed, knowing he and Lisa were far from close these days.

Maybe coming to talk to him hadn’t been such a good idea. She seriously had to start liking a taken guy, didn’t she? At least he wasn’t married. Oh yeah, Y/N. That makes it better she thought, as she closed her eyes at her own stupid thoughts. Though she had to wonder, if things were great between him and Lisa then why was he sitting out here, far away from her?

Dean looked up and looked into her eyes again. Sitting there and talking to her about Lisa just didn’t feel natural. It really did feel like he was living a lie, it had felt like that since way before Y/N showed up.

Y/N quickly looked away from him. She needed to leave. She quickly stood up, dusting her dress off.

“I should really get going. I have a lot of work to do” she said, turning to him as he stood up.

“On a Saturday?” he asked, confused. Dean took the empty beer bottle out of her hand. The brush of his fingers against hers sent a tingling sensation through her arm and over her body.

“Life of a teacher” she quickly joked, pulling her hand away.

Dean huffed a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “So, I’ll see you around?”

She nodded, a small smile on her face. “Yeah.”

Dean looked back at the back yard, before looking at her. “I better find Lisa.”

“Thanks for the chat” she said, playing nervously with the strap of her bag.

“No problem” he smirked.

He slowly walked backwards and gave her a small wave, before turning and walking away.

Y/N watched him walk to the back yard before she turned and walked down the sidewalk. She quickly made it home, closing the door behind her. She walked into her bedroom, dropping her bag on the chair and then stripped off her dress and shoes. She changed into her large sleep shirt, which came down to just above her knees. She threw her hair up in a bun and walked into her bathroom, taking the make-up wipes to rub off her make-up. She washed her face and wiped it down with a small towel, flicking the light off as she left.

As she went about that routine, her mind was on Dean. Just a short amount of time to talk, a few looks between them, a small touch of his hand against hers, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him. There was an air about him, almost like you could trust him completely. He would take care of you and never let anything happen to you. There was a sadness behind his smile, however, and she could feel that it had something to do with life at home. He and Lisa weren’t the perfect couple they wanted people to see them as.

She walked out into the living room, her phone in hand. She dropped down on the couch, tucking her legs up. She scrolled through her phone, finding the name of her best friend, Katie, and sending her a quick text to see if she could talk. They had been best friends since college, and right now, she needed to talk to her about Dean. Maybe she could give her some advice on how to stop the way she was feeling. When she got a text back saying she could talk, Y/N called her.

“Hey, sweetie” Katie greeted.

Y/N smiled, closing her eyes. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice.”

“It’s good to hear yours too. Though… you do sound a bit… off” her friend’s concern was evident in her voice.

Y/N scoffed and thought about what to say. “Well, it’s been a week in a new town… and I already have a guy problem.”

“Wow, that was quick” Katie commented.

“Yeah, well…” Y/N trailed off, playing with the edge of her shirt on her knee. “I wasn’t expecting for it to happen so fast, either. Especially after Ethan.”

“Okay, what’s his name?” Katie asked.

“Dean” a smile grew on Y/N face’s as she said his name, but it quickly dropped. “But before you say anything, he’s with someone and she’s got a kid, who’s practically a son to him.”

Katie let out a whistle. “Wow.”

“Yeah” Y/N agreed.

A silence fell between them, and Y/N knew that Katie was thinking.

“Well, as much as you probably don’t want to hear it, I think you got to let this one go” she said, finally.

Y/N sighed. “You’re right. I was already thinking it. I guess I just needed someone else to say to me, so I didn’t do anything stupid.”

“You’re a far more rational person than I am, so I doubt you would’ve” Katie reassured her.

Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes. “You haven’t seen what he looks like.”

“Well, photos when and if you get the chance” Katie laughed.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head.

They spent another half hour catching up on everything back home. It made Y/N miss everything even more, but she was glad to get the latest news. After they ended their chat, she got up from the couch when she noticed what the time was. She started fixing herself something for dinner, when she heard voices from across the street. She looked out the window, seeing people going home from Sid and Olivia’s.

Y/N watched Dean, Lisa and Ben walk back to their house. Dean and Lisa were holding hands, as Ben walked in front of them. Y/N felt her heart sink, seeing them look like a happy couple. Though it seemed that things weren’t all that great, or at least that was the impression she got from the way Dean looked at her.

Y/N shook her head and went back to making dinner. Once she was done, she settled in on the couch with her plate, a glass of wine and FRIENDS on Netflix.

It was silly of her to think that anything would ever happen with Dean. Even if he wasn’t with Lisa, she had only been around Dean twice. That wasn’t enough time to start thinking of him. This was just a crush, and it would go away soon.

Or so she hoped.

-x-

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