blink is back

Since I’ve been traipsing around a different continent for the past three months, I haven’t even seen the rest of the season and the finale… but let me tell you what happens anyway after last night’s Apparent Clusterfuck:

As Dean Winchester stands next to his prone angel, morbidly fascinated by the ash wings burned into the ground around his feet, he feels completely and utterly numb. He’s only had the presence of mind not to step on them, an easy thing given the fact that they’re so bare of feathers.

Carefully, and still without thinking, the hunter lowers himself to his knees, brow furrowed and lip trembling as he attempts to process what is clearly right before him.

Castiel is dead.

Still, Dean can’t help extending a shaking hand. His fingers gently trace the curve of Cas’s cheekbone in a way he never would have allowed himself if the other was still breathing, and despite the fact that his mouth feels like sandpaper and he can feel Castiel’s skin turning cold he asks the question anyway:

“…C-Cas?”

Dean can feel Sam staring holes through his back, but that’s the extent of any response to his query.

“Cas, wake up.”

His voice is a broken croak, but Dean keeps speaking anyway, turning bolder and more desperate with every second that reality sinks in.

“Cas? Castiel, wake up. Wake up, Cas! Cas!”

He’s pawing at his angel now, vision blurring until he has to blink to clear it. He all but throws himself across Castiel’s torso to uselessly slap at his cheeks in an attempt to rouse him.

“You stupid son of a bitch, wake up! Wake up, Castiel! Don’t you dare leave me, don’t…”

Castiel is still motionless when Dean collapses against him. “Don’t go,” the hunter whispers pitifully into his angel’s neck. He squeezes his eyes shut and swallows a sob. “Please. I… Cas, I…” His heart is in his throat as he turns his head to press a light kiss behind the other’s ear, moving to put his lips against Castiel’s own for the first and last time. “…I love you, you dumb angel,” he murmurs. “So you gotta wake up. Cas. Cas, I love you, so you hafta…”

When nothing happens, Dean curls himself over his angel and cries.

Sam joins him after a time, crouching to put a hand to his shoulder and blinking back tears himself. Soon, though, they have to go. “Dean. Dean, we have to get out of here.”

“Sammy, I–”

“I know. It’ll be okay.”

But when they both turn away from Cas for the first time, God isn’t who they’re expecting to find. In all honesty, they’re not expecting to find anyone… and yet, there he is: Chuck, dressed in a robe and stained pj pants.

“You love my son?” Is all he asks, piercing gaze boring into Dean. Dean takes a step back as if to protect Castiel’s form from his own father, and that apparently is good enough. Chuck nods sagely. “I don’t play favourites, you know,” he says. “I did that once with Lucifer and it didn’t end well… but Castiel is, different. He’s everything I didn’t know I wanted angels to be. He makes mistakes. He learns. And yet every time I bring him back, he ends up risking his life for you.”

Dean holds his breath. Chuck sighs. “I love my son, I would give him the world if I could.” There’s a beat, and Chuck tilts his head to the side. “But we’ve both seen what happens when he has unlimited power. Besides, at the end of the day… I think he really just wants you.”

And then God is gone.

Dean is confused for only a moment before there’s a gasping breath from behind him and a hacking cough, Castiel sitting upright and flushed and so very alive that Dean can do nothing but throw himself to the ground. He tackles Cas in a kiss before the other has time to say a word, pressing him to the floor and putting everything he is into the contact.

When he pulls away, Cas is bright red and smiling with the approximate wattage of the sun. “Dean,” he murmurs, awed. “I’m… I mean, I…”

Dean presses a finger to the other’s plump lips. “I love you,” he says simply.

And Castiel moves to kiss him again.

“p.s. yes I am embarassed to be found sleeping.”

  • <p> <b></b> Soooo its 2016 and my taste in music is still 2005<p/></p>
  • <p> <b></b>Update:
  • It is now 2017 and my taste in music is still 2005<p/></p>
sad boy + justin foley

plot : after his mum’s new boyfriend kicks him out, Justin only has one thing to do

word count : 1403

notes : for two people who wanted Justin Foley but I forgot their accounts so I’m sorry for not tagging

+++

Running out of his house, bag slung over his shoulder, Justin wiped his wet eyes on the sleeve of his varsity jacket, only for the tears to be replaced with new ones. He didn’t stop until he couldn’t run anymore, legs aching, throat burning. He had no idea where he was, he couldn’t tell with his blurry vision. It was almost nightfall, not a person In sight. He fell to his knees, bag dropping with a loud thump, as a quiet sob passed his lips.

There was one thing Justin could think of doing. One person he wanted to talk to now, he needed to talk to right now. He reached into his pocket, hands trembling as he did so, retrieving his phone. He somehow found your contact, a picture of your beaming face on his screen, the image alone calming him down the tiniest bit. He shakily pressed the dial button, holding his breath while waiting for you to pick up. Begging you to answer.

One ring. Two ring.

More tears gathered in his eyes.

Three ring.

You were probably busy. You didn’t need him as a burden.

Four ring.

More and more tears fell as another sob racked his body.

“Hey”

The world stopped. Justin’s voice was caught in his throat, no words forming.

“Justin? You there?”

He couldn’t help the cry he let out of his mouth.

“Justin?! Are you okay?”

The sound of your panicked voice, filled Justin’s heart. You cared, you were the only one who cared.

“Y-Y/N”

It was only a whisper, something you shouldn’t have caught but you did.

“Justin? What happened? What’s wrong? What did they do?”

“I- I can’t. I-”

The words wouldn’t come out, as much as Justin tried.

“Where are you? I’m coming to pick you up” you stated.

Justin heard the jingling of keys through the phone.

“I- I don’t know. There’s houses and- and a-” he stuttered, trying to speak through the suffocation he was feeling.

“Justin. Stop. Breathe in. Breathe out. Now tell me, can you see a street sign anywhere?”

He did as you instructed, following your smooth, familiar voice.

“Risely Avenue” he said after a while.

“Stay where you are, I’m coming. And Justin?”

He blinked back more tears as he listened to you talk.

“Yeah?”

“Everything will be okay”

It was a mere 10 minutes before your familiar car drove up the street, headlights illuminating the otherwise dark road. Justin looked at the ground as he stood, ashamed to look at you in his current state. He heard the click of the car door opening, followed the by the clicking of your shoes on the gravel road. He managed to look up, eyes meeting with your warm ones. You stood right in front of him, inches away. You held your arms out and in less than a second, Justin fell into your arms.

“Hey”

He swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat.

“Hey” he replied, his voice a tiny squeak.

You pulled away, much to Justin’s dismay. You picked up his bag from the floor and he didn’t have the energy to protest, taking his hand in yours, you walked back to your car, settling them in. And then you drove.

“Y/N”

You turned to look at your boyfriend of more than a year for a second before fixing your eyes back on the road.

“I- uhm I-”

“You don’t have to explain Justin. Not now anyway”

You pressed your lips together, gently placing a hand on his knee while keeping the other on the steering wheel. He flinched at the sudden contact, but your hand stayed where it was.

“I’m sorry, I just I-”

He immediately started to apologise, even though you thought nothing of it and completely understood.

“Sh, Justin. Just relax, you’re with me now” you assured, running a thumb across his jean clad knee.

He nodded, swallowing thickly, shutting his eyes and focusing on your soft touch. You flicked your eyes to him, watching his long eyelashes fall on his cheekbones. His eyes were red and puffy from crying, dried tears on his cheeks.

Soon enough, you reached your house, parking the car in the driveway. Justin opened his eyes, blinking a few times. You silently hopped out, grabbing his bag from the backseat before opening the passenger door.

“You don’t have to do all this” Justin mumbled.

“Come on” you urged, ignoring his statement.

The two of you walked into your house, the warmth engulfing you both. You took his hand in yours, leading him to the spare bedroom.

“Have you eaten yet?” you questioned.

Justin shook his head, like you expected.

“Well, you know where the showers are, I’m going to heat up dinner okay?”

He nodded, looking at the floor. You could tell he was on the verge of another round of tears. You frowned, walking up to him and wearing your arms around his neck, placing a kiss on his cheek. You felt him smile, even if it was a small one.

You stepped away, smiling at him softly, before leaving the room. You walked to your kitchen, getting the leftovers from Robert out to heat them up. Nobody should be treated how Justin is. Justin didn’t call you about this, usually going to Bryce’s house or Alex’s but not yours. He never wanted to bother you with his problems, thinking he would be a burden to you. It took Justin almost a year before he even told you about his condition at home and that was only after Zach accidentally mentioned it.

You took the food out of the microwave, placing it on the dinner table while waiting for him to arrive. Your parents were big business people, meaning they were out of town a lot of the time, so they bought you your own little house to stay in which they occasionally visited.

Ten minutes later, the sound of water running stopped, meaning Justin was out of the shower. Another ten minutes later, Justin padded into the dining room, where you were waiting for him. His hair was dripping wet, droplets trailing down the back of his neck. His eyes were redder, even puffier while his bottom lip quivered. What you noticed now was the significant bruises that had formed around his neck and the sight of all of this made you shatter a little on the inside. He tugged at his sleeves, still looking at the floor. He had changed into a pair of sweats and a t shirt.

You went to him, pressing a slight kiss on his shaking lips. You gripped his jaw with a feather-like touch, tilting it upwards to expose the purple and blue skin of his neck. You gingerly touched the large bruises that were vaguely in the shape of fingerprints. He gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing under your thumb. You sighed and pulled away.

“Sit, Justin”

He listened to your words, taking a seat next to you. He picked up his fork, staring at his food with no intention of eating it.

“I’m not that hungry right now Y/N, I’m sorry for making you go to all this trouble-”

“It’s fine Justin, I understand. Want to go to bed?” you offered.

He nodded, standing up from the table with you following suit. You put his plate back in the fridge before taking his hand and walking back to bed. You got in first, opening your arms and inviting him to lay with you. He complied immediately, putting his head on your shoulder, intertwining your legs.

“You have to report them Justin. Those bruises… they look bad. It’s the worse it’s gotten so far” you gulped, your own heart becoming heavy with the thought.

“I can’t Y/N, I’ll be shipped off to some foster home with people I don’t even know and I might even have to move away. I’m not risking that”

You nodded, it was a hard decision for anyone.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine”

As the words left his mouth, you felt wetness on your shoulder.

“Oh Justin, you don’t need to act strong now. It’s okay to be human” you whispered into his ear.

And those were all it took before he broke down for the third time that evening. His body shook violently as you held him tight.

“It’ll all be okay Justin. I promise”

And in that moment, Justin realised that the only real place he felt safe was with you.

Helplessness is watching a person you care deeply for deteriorate right before your eyes without having the means to help them.

Desperation is shouting for hours and hours at the top of your lungs for help until your voice is raw and throbbing.

Defeat is knowing that there’s nothing you can do. You’re stuck and forced to live day after day in a small, cold cell. Whatever hope of help coming is replaced with a numbness, a slow realization that this is how your life will end.

“Stop…. Pouting….”

Keith blinks back into reality at Lance’s weak, raspy voice. The latter is using his lap as a pillow, and Keith glances down to meet the brunet’s eyes.

“I’m not.” Keith answers, and despite Lance’s ashen face colored only with a deep flush across his cheeks, the brunet’s face lights up as a breathy laugh escapes.

“You literally… pouted when you… said that.”

On instinct, Keith moves to purse his lips out into a pout, but he catches himself and breathes out a low sigh instead.

He tilts his head back up to stare at the stone ceiling. How many days has it been now? Twelve, maybe? He lost track after Lance stopped eating, too worried to care about anything else but the brunet.

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What if Destiny 2 opened like this:

The screen is black… All is quiet… Then you hear it. You hear him.

“Guardian? Guardian! Eyes up Guardian!”

The blackness clears as you blink back to life. You stand up, and around you is death and destruction, not unlike your first revival.

Except this time, the bodies were fresh. The embers still burned. And smoke billowed into the sky. The alabaster sphere of the traveler only visible as a dark shadow behind the ash and smoke.

“Thank the Traveler you’re alright… I thought I had lost you…”

A blazing jumpship whistles by as it plummets toward the Earth. You can hear screaming, shouting, and the comms are abuzz. The echoes of Guardians supercharging in the distance filled the air, and the blackened sky was aglow with hues of firey oranges, purples, and blues. You pick up your weapon, and march once more unto the breach.

away from the sun

soulmate au 

pairing: taehyung | reader
genre: fluff and soft angst
word count: 20.409
warnings: none
author’s note: this story involved a whole lot of research involving many topics (read on if you want to find out hehe). I tried to represent them in the best way I could, but there are probably a few inaccuracies, so I apologize in advance for that. anyway, this is just another long plot with a bit of cheese on the side. please enjoy :) 


Once every five years, when the June solstice arrives and graces the sky with the midnight sun, a comet dashes by.

It is more than just a blinking light that moves at an unhinged speed. According to what you’ve heard, it looks like it stills in the middle of the vastness of space, and its tail flickers and shimmies in long tendrils of vibrant colors full of meaning — a subtle force that speaks to the humans who look up to the stars and set their eyes on the glowing meteorite, unique but just as intense for every single gaze. It speaks of soulmates and fate, of heavy truths and indelible bonds.

Each person sees a different pool of colors. You’ve heard more than a thousand stories, of people who saw the colors of the fireplace and others who were seized by the soothing hues of woodland during dawn. You’ve read about colors that go from the red blush of a beach beneath the sunset to the ivory traces of a wintry hill covered in thick snow. The colors do not give them the name of their soulmates, but once they find their other half, they will see those rich tones reflected in their lover’s eyes.

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like real people do p.2 | jungkook

summary: the feelings for your friends with benefits are changing. months pass, and you feel your gut telling you that you want more. you’re just not sure if he feels the same.

college student!reader, friends with benefits!jungkook

piece 1, piece 2, piece 3

this component is based off russ’s cherry hill

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@taylor-tut tHIS IS SO LATE I’M SO SORRY MY FAB FRIENDO! But! It has finally arrived!! I’m sorry if it’s a bit crappy, I like haven’t slept in three days haha

anyhoo, onto the story:


Lance woke up with a sneeze.

He blinked his eyes open, immediately groaning at the light that pierced through his eyeballs and into his temples. He brought an arm up to shield his face, shivering slightly. Taking a deep breath, Lance conducted a mental survey of his condition, assessing his apparently numerous ailments that seem to have manifested overnight.

Congested sinuses that dissolved into a throbbing headache that pulsed outward with each movement? Check. 

Raw, sandpaper throat, and lungs that rattled with every inhale? Check.

The strange sensation of being completely, bone-numbingly cold despite the warmth and clamminess of his limbs? Checkerooni.

Conclusion: Today is gonna suck.

If Lance were to be perfectly honest with himself, he would concede that he had been feeling off these last couple days. Nevertheless, the team needed his 100% right now, and any wooziness he may have felt had to be put on the backburner. With several months having passed without any sign of Shiro, tensions within the castle were palpable.  Keith and Pidge seemed inches away from snapping at any given moment, Allura’s training schedule seemed to have been kicked up the several notches from “very harsh” to “dear god I can taste my own pulse”, and even Hunk and Coran seemed somewhat subdued. It was the least Lance could do to try and keep up, and make sure the other’s stayed optimistic. He was the joker, the sharpshooter - it was his role, no matter how taxing it could be on his own body.

Lance steeled himself, counting down from five, before swinging out of his bed, pausing to lean against the wall as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Once the tilt-a-whirl he usually called a bedroom settled to a soft swaying, Lance began to make his way down to the dining hall.

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Me: I fucking love Vaas he’s the best character ever fuck me up pls no one will ever compare I never want him to die 

Jason: *kills Vaas halfway through the game* 

 Me:

Originally posted by fairie-prince

anonymous asked:

17. Jungkook, fuckboy au

thank you for requesting! i hope you like it!

17. “I want you to keep it.” 

WORD COUNT: 1,346

Originally posted by foreveryoongz

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imoyu-trashblog  asked:

While reading your Gaston headcanons and just imagined where he picks you up to carry you across a large puddle, only for him to trip on a loose stone. Oops, both of you are covered in mud now. Fluff ensures...?

I said no but i couldn’t stop mySELF.

Originally posted by good-gay-sherlock

Title: Muddy.
Pairing: Gaston x Female!Reader.
Words: 3,104.
Rating: T.


It had just rained not ten minutes ago, and vendors were already back on the street. Some didn’t even bother protecting their produce and products and let the rain do what it wanted. It wasn’t the typical gentle sort of rain either, it was a consistent downpour that wasn’t expected by anyone in the village. You had sought shelter under a small patio of a neighbor as it happened on your way to get some eggs. As a result of the heavy rain, the Earth now smelt clean and fresh. It was a soothing scent, one that made you forget your worries, if only for a few minutes. Giving your kind neighbor a smile for letting you stand under their roof, you waved at them, saying, “I’ll see you later,” before stepping out. A few drops of water hit the top of your head as they dripped from the roofs edge.

Drawing a deep breath in, you began walking. Tightening your shawl around your shoulders, you were appreciative of the sun now peeking through the clouds above. It would warm up soon, drying everything in the process. Mindful of your steps now as most of the ground was either emerged with water or was a seeping puddle of mud, you ran into the sights of a friend.

Friend wasn’t the right word, you thought and looked at Gaston with curious eyes. He was currently checking himself out in the window of the bakery, smiling on and off. Probably checking the wrinkles around his mouth, you laughed to yourself, remembering how he told you that women found them to be rather attractive. ‘It gives me a sort of… Older appearance.’ He told you once with a wide smirk. He was right, they did make him look different than other men you knew, but not for the reason he gave you.

The lines around his mouth gave his smirk, his smiles and his grins even more prominence and seemed to captivate those around him. As if his eyes weren’t enough to get the job just right. In fact, most of his attributes were enough to get anyone he set his eyes on, really. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. There were the occasional few that saw passed this facade, and you just happened to be one of them. Not that it came in much luck because Gaston had a keen sense on picking out women and men who he didn’t quite captivate. You supposed this came into play with his need for a chase. Whether it be chasing his next prey while hunting or chasing the next woman in his life, he enjoyed it regardless.

You raised your eyebrows in amusement as Gaston shot his reflection a wink and a kiss. You took this as an opportunity to walk past him quickly, in slight hopes that perhaps he wouldn’t notice you so you could get what you wanted and not linger around to talk.

He was more of an acquaintance, you decided tip toeing your way behind him, not a friend. You both knew each other, acknowledged each other’s existence, spoken here and there, flirted a bit but ultimately kept your distance. It wasn’t as if you hated him, in fact, you didn’t. You just found him to a be a bit… overpowering sometimes and it only elevated when you figured out that he was entirely interested in you. Of course, the smiles he sent your way, the tone of voice he used with you, his gestures and body language were all alarms going off telling you that Gaston thought he was a bit more than acquaintances with you, but it only hit you full on when he finally got around to asking you to have dinner with him.

It’s not like you weren’t interested him and hadn’t thought of being together with him. You figured most everyone in the village had, even the men. Gaston was certainly appealing and was very careful on making himself seem as attractive as he possibly could. But, giving a man his way when he thinks he’s entitled to it is something you didn’t want to feed into. An egotistical man is something you didn’t want to feed attention to. You owed him nothing. You were your own person and he’d have to realize that if he was really interested.

“(Name)!” Your face balled up in defeat. Stopping your movements, you turned on your heel and faced Gaston. In the time that it took you to do that, you relaxed your expression into the most neutral face you could muster. You watched rather intently as he pulled on the bottom of his tan overcoat to straighten it, clearing his throat while doing that.

You swallowed softly and smiled politely at him. “Good morning, Gaston.”

He didn’t miss a beat, grasping your hand and kissing your knuckles gently. He smiled against them, looking down at you through slightly half-lidded eyes. Your heart churned at the meager gaze that held a bit more than invested attention. He let go of your hand, almost hesitating doing so. Your hand was left to drift in the air before making its way back to your side.  “Good morning.” He finally said, his tone dipping into his chest voice. “Any plans for this evening?”

“What’s today? Wednesday?” You thought and looked around, eager to avoid his eyes. Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you thought of an excuse. It didn’t need to be a good one, just a logical one. You spilled out the first thing you thought of, “I’ve got to do laundry.” It was unintentional for your statement to come out as a question, but unfortunately, it came out that way. You just hoped that Gaston bought it as an obtainable excuse.

Slipping his hands onto his hips, you found yourself rather fixated on the shape of his torso. His fingers expanded there, cupping and holding himself as if he didn’t get enough from the women who’ve touched that very spot. He didn’t cock his waist to the side perse, and much rather, straightened his back to make himself appear even larger. The light brown pants were tailored to fit his body specifically, and if he moved just right, it left little to the imagination. His feet were a part giving the absolute definition of confidence and self-awareness though Gaston on more than one occasion, was completely clueless. At this moment in time, he wasn’t. He was thinking about your words. There was really no sense in doing laundry in the evening because if you left it out to dry overnight, the frost would most definitely freeze most of your clothes.

“In the… Evening?” Gaston inquired, his right eyebrow arching upwards in curiousity. The white ruffled shirt under the vibrant red vest lined with gold clung to his torso and defined his shape. Under the tan overcoat, you could see that Gaston was just as gentle on the eyes. Many didn’t see this for many only say the broad shouldered war hero. For a brief moment, you wanted nothing than to reach out and graze your hands up and down his sides. They appeared smooth.

“Uhm, yes.” You tore your eyes away, deciding that walking away was probably the best way to avoid any sort of eye contact. If he’s walking beside you, preferably a foot behind you actually,  it’d be hard for you to maintain gazes. Gaston followed you rather diligently, letting his eyes fall to the back of your head as you began speaking again, “It’s a lot easier to get it done in the evening when no one else is there.” That made complete sense, you reassured yourself.

“Then, can I join you?” You knew that was coming. Laughing quietly, you stopped in front of a rather large puddle that almost looked more like a pond because of its size. “I’ve never done it myself, but I’m sure you can help me.” Gaston informed you, studying the small body of water in front of you and your mild hesitation on how you wanted to get around it.

Without any chance to ask what he was doing, Gaston bent down, grasping your hips and picking you up seamlessly. It was sudden action and with your feet leaving the ground so quickly made your head reel. For a second, you were almost sure he was going to hike you over his shoulder and carry you like a sack of potatoes, but his arm remained around your waist and within moments, he was holding you rather securely while your feet dangled helplessly in the air.

Unable to protest now, he started walking forward through the puddle you were debating on how to get around. You sighed in defeat. He was nice enough to help you so there was no point in arguing now that he was halfway across. “Or better yet, you can do it for me. You see, I usually get women to do it for me, it’s amazing how they throw themselves on their knees for the opportunity really.” Gaston smirked at the thought, readjusting his grip on you.

Shutting your eyelids to reserve yourself from snapping at him, you wrapped your arms around his neck to feel a bit more stable. You could feel his muscles shift under his clothing and found it difficult to ignore the musky smell that seemed to linger with him. He smelt like the woods mixed with the smallest amount of gunpowder. You knew this wasn’t a scent you should grow attached to, but you still found yourself taking deep breaths in just to enjoy. Fluttering your eyes back open you looked at him. Your gaze was a threat in itself, telling him that he’d pay for it if he dropped you. Then, you began speaking, “I won’t do it for you, but I can show you how to do it.”

Gaston laughed quietly. He figured you’d say something of that nature and merely nodded in agreement. He shuffled slightly, feeling something under his feet slip and slide, and before he could really process what it was, the two of you were tumbling down. A few seconds later, you were sitting in a rather large puddle, covered with water and mud. Sitting up, you blinked back the mud near your eyes. You swallowed thickly and looked down at Gaston as he actually managed to catch you and soften your landing. You couldn’t say the same for him for you had actually landed on top of him.

Resting on his back, he groaned quietly and opened his eyes. Gaston looked blankly at the sky for a few seconds before rocking back into reality. Realizing you were on top of him, a small smirk crept its way onto his cheeks. You could feel the eyes of a few villagers digging into you as they watched the entire thing play out, and some villagers who just got there and were met with a rather compromising scene as you were straddling him.

Staring down at him, you came to one conclusion rather quickly. “You did that on purpose.”

“What reason would I have for doing it on purpose? I slipped on a loose stone. It does happen, I’ll have you know. I’m sorry.” He groaned while sitting up, reaching back and holding you close to him. It was unintentional and more of a habit, but you could feel the heat dancing from the tips of your ears to your face at the action. Your eyebrows rose in slow amazement.  He wasn’t usually one for apologizing for anything, even it was his fault. Gaston had a knack of making it seem like things weren’t truly his fault, so why did he take responsibility this time? You were still perched in his lap as he slicked back some of his now drenched hair, a bit offended that you assumed that he did it intentionally.

Your laughter started, soft at first before getting louder and louder. Gaston was shocked, his face twisting into an expression of confusion. “What could possibly be so funny?” He moved his head back a bit so he could see you more clearly and something inside of him slammed against his heart like a giant wave.

“You’re a mess.” You tossed your head back in absolute pleasure. You’d never seen Gaston like this before. Physically dirty and unappealing to most because of the mud, but also a bit more human for having apologize for making a mistake, for having a flaw. Grasping your sides from laughing too hard, you heard Gaston’s laugh mix with yours. Unsurely at first, before he started literally cackling. It was something that you never actually heard prior, because he had many sorts of laughs.

The cocky laughs, the fake laughs, and the hateful or scornful laughs. Those were the ones he used more often than not so to hear his actual, human, genuine laugh made yours die down so you could admire it a bit more. There were wrinkles around his eyes, as they were shut, his mouth forming what you would describe as being one of the most beautiful smiles you’d ever seen. The sound itself was a bit different as well and instead of resonating in his chest like you thought, it was a lighter, more flowful sound. Grasping a leaf that had made it’s way into his hair, you tugged it out gently and tossed it to the side. “I’ve known you for years but I’ve never heard you laugh like that.” You stated and wiped some mud off his forehead. In the process though, you had only managed to smear it with the water on your fingers.

“You best bask in it then. Not many people have heard it.” He whispered a bit too quietly and looked away. Surely, it was a subject you could press and see why he implied that it was rare for him to laugh like that, but you were in no true position to do so. You were acquaintances. If more, then perhaps you could seep into his childhood, the days before you even knew Gaston.

Leaning towards him ever so slightly, you stared into his eyes as if you were reading what emotions were swirling in them. Remarkably, as many people have told you, his eyes weren’t a complete and solid brown. You supposed that you had never paid attention to the flickers of green that were washed around the darkness of his pupil. The sunlight seemed to elevate the appearance of his eyes, giving them a much softer glow than darker light would give. Resting your hands on his chest, you swallowed back any intentions of going any further than this mishap and tried to convince yourself that standing up would be your safest way out.

You tried, but your legs weren’t moving. A refusal would be the best way to put it. Your mind was refusing to move your body, to flee from the scene. Why?

Silence ensued between the two of you as he stared back at you. From the vague expression on his face, you thought that he was going to lean forward and plant a smooth kiss onto your lips. You were positive that was what he would do had any other girl fallen with him. Why else would he need the excuse to get so close to you? His movement seemed almost hesitant and as he rested back on one arm, he reached the other up and wiped some mud off your cheek with the wet sleeve of his tan coat. You didn’t want to tilt your head towards his graze, but that’s exactly what you did. Your action led to Gaston cupping the side of your face, his fingertips damp against your soft skin. You were almost positive he could feel your heart beating against his touch.

It would be so easy to kiss you right now, he thought to himself and let his eyes drop to your mouth before seeking your gaze once again. One swift motion towards you and he’d have his lips on yours, something that he had thought about since the first day he met you. That was years ago. To pine after someone for so long was typically not his style but here he found himself wanting nothing more than to embrace you and to let you have him. Gaston swallowed, the muscles in his neck contracting as he did. He wouldn’t say that he was nervous because he wasn’t. He just found himself… Unsure of what to do now. He could kiss you and change things between the two of you forever or he could stand up, help you up and go on with life the way things were.

He had chased you long enough.

Now was the time to take some action.

You laughed quietly, pulling away from his touch, “We should probably start laundry earlier-” The sentence came to an abrupt stop as Gaston craned his head forward and captured your lips. Your eyes were wide with surprise, though deep down, you knew he was going to kiss you. And, despite that deep down feeling, you did nothing to stop him. The second he started kissing you, you had stopped lying to yourself. You wanted to kiss him just as much. You wanted to hold him closer and never let go.

It wasn’t quite a kiss, as half of his mouth actually landed on the space next to your mouth. He didn’t move for what seemed like eternity, constantly reassuring himself that he had done the right thing. And when he did move, it was to readjust his mouth so he could kiss you fully. Lifting both hands, he cupped your face tenderly while the hands that were resting on his chest rose up to hold onto his shoulders. 

You wondered what it must look like, the two of you kissing in the middle of the village, in the middle of a puddle, both soaked to the bone and covered in mud. You didn’t care about that for very long though as your eyes fell shut. Gaston didn’t completely devour and allowed you dominate slightly. Kissing him back, you squeezed his shoulders and laughed slightly when the small amount of facial hair tickled your face. He laughed as well, pulling his mouth from yours. They remained puckered, almost asking for another kiss, his eyes still blissfully shut.

You didn’t allow him the pleasure, at least, not yet as you finished your sentence from before, “because we need to get the mud out of these clothes.”


Holy crap that ended up way longer than I had anticipated. Reblogs and likes are appreciated guys, thanks for reading!

“He - he deserved so much more, Sammy,” Dean says, broken, twisting the beer bottle in his hand. They’re back at the Bunker, Cas in the boot of the Impala, Jack nowhere to be found.

Sam blinks back his own tears, and Dean is outwardly crying. “He deserved the world,” he continues. “But I - I couldn’t give it to him.”

The silence is almost deafening, and the only thing that breaks it are the small sobs from Dean and the tears from Sam.

“He did,” Sam says, and Dean looks up. “He did, but the thing is, you were his world, Dean.”