or the long stretches of comfortable silence

Downstream - ~1k, post 12.23 / pre s13, angst

The ocean is a flat plane of glass, and the boat doesn’t cause a single ripple as it glides along the surface. Dean has no idea how they managed to drift out so far, but somehow they’ve completely lost sight of the shoreline. The only indication of the horizon is the thinnest, faintest line; a stray hair caught in a watercolour canvas.

It’s light out, the air around him a diffusion of pink and gold and reflected back in the water’s mirror surface, but he can’t find the sun. Perhaps it’s nearing dawn.

Dean’s leaning back against the bow, hands behind his head. The gunwales are kind of digging into his shoulders, but he’s smiling.

His companion is silent and placid where he sits near the stern. The light is catching the tips of his hair, setting off the dark with glints of gold. Clasped hands hang between splayed knees.

Dean inhales thick, salt air and lets his eyes drift closed. “This was a good idea. We needed a vacation.”

“You deserve it.”

Dean hums, contented. “You too. Hell, we’ve all been through the ringer lately.”

Cas nods. “I suppose we have.”

Their voices float easily through the air, but in the space all around them it’s perfectly quiet, save the occasional soft, gentle slap of water against the boat.

“Seriously, we shoulda done this years ago.”

“When?” Cas asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “After the apocalypse, but before the leviathan? Maybe between the Mark of Cain and Amara?”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re kind of a downer, Cas?” Dean replies peaceably.

“Once or twice.”

Another long and companionable silence stretches out between them. They’ve been out here a while now and the sun probably should’ve risen, but it’s hardly a concern: the glow of light around them is warm enough. In fact, Dean could probably afford to take off his jacket, were he not far too comfortable to move.

“Dean. How long do you plan to stay out here?”

Dean cracks one eye. “What, you got somewhere to be?”

Cas’ answering smile is fond, and only slightly tinged with sadness. “No.”

“That’s what I thought.” Dean drops his eyelid.

“It’s just, there are things you need to do.”

Both Dean’s eyes open now, and he leans all the way up to sit on the hard, wooden seat. The boat rocks and sways. “Yeah, Cas, there’s always something. But you are cutting into our hard-earned relaxation time, man. You keep this up, you can kiss that second date goodbye.”

“This is a date?”

Dean gives him a look. “You take a lot of platonic pre-dawn rowboat rides?”

“I suppose not,” Cas says, and he casts his eyes out to the water. “I’m just a little surprised.”

“But not disappointed.”

There’s a faint blush dusting Cas’ cheeks. Maybe it’s just the light. “No.”

“Because you love me.” Cas’ eyebrows rocket up to his hairline, and Dean shrugs defensively. “Hey, you said it, not me.”

“Well, that’s certainly true.”

Dean’s gotta give him that one. “Touché.”

Cas is looking at him patiently, waiting.

Feeling rather like a third-grader forced to answer a question he wasn’t listening to in the first place, Dean casts his eyes down, suddenly intensely interested in the rough woodgrain below his feet. The fact that the boat has no oars is a mild curiosity.

“I dunno,” Dean shrugs. “Probably shoulda said it then. Guess I just figured you knew.”

“Because you’re always so open and honest with your feelings.”

That’s two points to Cas.

Dean plays for time a while longer, scraping his boots through the coarse, black sand he tracked in from the beach. “Alright, well, there it is. Better late than never, right?”

This time Cas doesn’t bother trying to hide the heartache in his smile.

They sit in silence again, for minutes or maybe hours. Eventually Cas looks left to the non-existent sun. “It’s probably time to go back,” he says quietly.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah. Little longer.”

“You have responsibilities, Dean.”

Dean scoffs. “What, you mean Rosemary’s baby?”

“He didn’t ask to be what he is.”

“He’s the literal antichrist, Cas.”

Whatever he is,” Cas says firmly, “good or evil, he needs someone. He needs guidance.”

“He needs a bullet in the neck.”

Cas shakes his head. “You don’t mean that. He’s an innocent, Dean. And he needs you and Sam, now that I can’t be there for him anymore.”

Something flickers in Dean’s chest, like a moth beating against his heart. He frowns, confused, and finds Cas’ eyes.

The intent expression on Cas’ face gradually shifts to one of resignation. He sighs softly. “You forgot again, didn’t you?”

Dean jolts awake to a blaring car horn.

Sam is driving, the hideous sodium streetlights casting harsh lines of shadow across his face when he turns to the passenger seat. “You were talking again.”

Dean doesn’t answer as he reacquaints himself with the deep, aching chasm in his chest.

Sam swallows visibly, shadows of raindrops on the windshield like pockmarks on his skin. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Dean grits his teeth. “Yeah, Sam. There were these clowns. Like thirty of ‘em, and they all kept piling out of this Volkswagon.” The lie slides easy off his tongue.

Sam throws up a hand in surrender. “Okay.”

Anger is easier. Anger is always easier.

Dean closes his eyes tight and tries to chase the soft, pink-gold light of the ocean. He inhales Baby’s familiar leather scent, desperate for a whiff of salt air.

He tries to forget.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

things I associate with the types
  • ESTP: the earth beneath your fingernails after a long day, waking up feeling full of light and ready to get up, summer evenings, the press of a friend’s hand into yours, tan lines that pop on your skin, the chill of rainwater as it slides through your hair, feet sticking out of car windows, running around backyards as the sunlight fades
  • ESTJ: the jarring echo of a microphone when bumped, mowed grass, a newly immaculate room with everything accessible, the fresh smell of rental cars, neat calendars pinned above desks, new school supplies stacked up in your room, monopoly games, sliding into a perfectly made bed at the end of a long day, unpacking in a hotel room, taking yourself out for dinner
  • ESFP: throwing your arm around a friend, gaudy beaded bracelets put together by your little cousin, the quick pant of an excited dog, the smell of campfires, paint stuck in the crevices of your hand, taking neat notes for the kid who’s absent, an instagram full of pictures of you and your friends, screaming the lyrics to songs as you ride down the highway
  • ESFJ: staying after school to help a teacher clean up, biting your tongue to try to stop laughing during class, a sticky kiss from a child, kindergarten art rooms, listening patiently to stories you’ve heard before, staggering around in your mom’s high heels as a kid, walking around town with ice cream and friends, squeezing lemon juice into your hair
  • ENTP: having to do a group project by yourself, walking back and forth to calm your excitement, desks cluttered with papers, the sound of quick typing, the rush of relief after walking out of uncomfortable situations, lying to get a reaction out of someone, the sting of tears brought on by anger, the perfect comeback, mascara smeared down your face
  • ENTJ: protest signs, pinning magazine cut outs to your wall, walking to the front of a room to give a presentation, the click of high heels, tilting your chair back and crossing your arms to show your disapproval, the smell of paint, friendly debates with loud words and wide gestures, losing track of time and blinking tiredly at the clock, perfectly tailored suits left wrinkled on bedroom floors
  • ENFP: bulletin boards with inspiring quotes, humming along off-key beneath your breath, bare feet on hot sand, pinterest projects, curling ribbon with scissors, sewing your own clothes, improvised road trips, bubblegum pink lipstick, convincing a friend to buy themself that new outfit, silly nicknames, candy wrappers littered on the floor, compliments from strangers in public restrooms, good morning texts
  • ENFJ: cute notes left in people’s lockers, talking a friend through their self confidence issues, cleaning your room at two in the morning, dark thoughts that only slip into your mind late at night, the press of a kiss to your forehead, picking out your clothes the night before, convincing a friend to come dance with you, the hand on your shoulder
  • ISTP: taking apart pens and examining the individual parts, spilling out emotions that you’ve kept tightly wound inside, the smell of rubber tires on pavement, writing down your thoughts to better understand them, clenched fists, research papers laid out across a table, jumping off a rock wall and letting the cord catch you, polaroid cameras
  • ISTJ: setting yourself deadlines, slipping candy to a worried friend, puns, stretching after a long day, downing too much coffee so you can stay up to work, drawing tablets, buying Christmas gifts a month in advance, the smell of grass after a rain, sitting in comfortable silence with a good friend, before and after pictures, old family trinkets
  • ISFP: petitions passed around classrooms, a friend’s artwork hanging on your wall, the weight of a child on your hip, getting up early to see the sunrise, interior design, vinyl albums, sitting on rooftops with friends, detailed journals from years back stacked in your closet, the warmth of a cat curled up on your lap, sleepy kisses goodnight, the walk up on stage to collect an award
  • ISFJ: buying friends gifts for no occasion, old photo albums lining bookshelves, waking up knowing that today is not yesterday, holding a bun up with just a pencil, splattered paint on brick walls, doing homework on the way to school, bitten lips rather than angry words, tentative hugs, the smell of vanilla, hair falling in front of your face when you duck your head
  • INTP: dead languages, long winded speeches that change topics multiple times, sweater vests, chalk boards covered with writing, lost glasses that are on top of your head, botanical gardens, finals week, bouncing up and down on the balls on your feet as you rant, unbrushed hair, library fines, the glow of a laptop late at night
  • INTJ: packing for college, perfectly winged eyeliner, beakers overflowing with bubbles, schedule overloads, chess games that last until late into the night, the feeling of silk on bare skin, locking your door while working, texting while walking, leaning forwards into discussions with your elbows on the table, rapid-fire conversations, makeup lined up along the sink
  • INFP: community gardens, braiding flowers into a friend’s hair, giggles, playing guitar to an empty room, yellow daisies, sudden anger, reading by candlelight, unexpected hugs, empty forest paths, make believe, whispers that you know no one can hear, understanding nods during rants, lifting someone up and spinning them around, the smell of new paper, forgotten tea that’s turned cool
  • INFJ: hanging lightbulbs, thick books where the spine curls inwards, shoulders shaking forwards when you won’t let yourself cry, absent kisses laid on top of heads, lying beside a friend in bed and talking to the ceiling, dessert left at a friend’s door, watching the people below from city windows, little notes from friends kept for years, the key to your childhood diary
had a long day// h.s

Originally posted by little-miss1d

A/N- okay, so this is my first writing piece here. I’ve been skeptical about it but that’s okay, yeah? Feed back would be widly appreciated and don’t hesitate to leave a request in my ask. xx

Had A Long Day

Warmth spread throughout your body once you sipped the last remains of your green tea, setting the mug aside with a soft clink. Your body was stretched and warm, clad in pajamas and an old tee providing you the comfort you’d earned after a long day.

Silence after a day of calls after calls was well needed. Your eyes were droopy and your hair was a mess but all you could think about was warm arms wrapping around you and a cold bed. And that was exactly what you were doing.

Sighing, you lied on your bed allowing the pillows to pool around you once you felt warm, tatted arms hug your waist. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach when you felt Harry’s hard chest press against the tired skin of your back.

His lips were cold and wet from washing his face when he pressed them lightly to the back of your neck kissing it softly and making visible goosebumps arise on your skin.

“Had a long day?” He asked while his hands rubbed over the pads of your stomach, warming up the cool skin.

“Hated it. What about you?” You turned around in his arms, your fingers coming to toy with the small hair at the back of his neck. “Was nothing special. Went to see Niall.”

“Yeah? How is he?”

“Was good. Finally found a girl though.” He laughed. “He’s a nice guy, I don’t understand how it’s hard for him to find anyone.” You shrugged. Harry hummed in reply tucking his chin overtop your head and kissing over your forehead.

“You’re gonna be home tomorrow, right?” He asked, creasing his eyebrows. “Yeah, got nothing to do. I think it’s a long weekend.”

He smiled in reply, massaging the sides of your back and scratching up your spine lightly.

“Did you finish your lunch?” Harry asked, to which you hummed into his neck, slotting your leg between two of his, tracing your heels over the skin of his calf. “Did you?”

“Course. Had a great salad.” And before you could reply, your eyes were shut and sleep was filling your senses making Harry smile and giggle, pulling the comforter over your body, allowing you tuck your face into his chest and dream.

A Friend in Me

Wrote a little ficlet for @not-close-to-straight and @latelierderiot (and anyone else who needs some extra love today). If anybody out here needs a listening ear, I am here. <3

Bruce and Tony friends fic. Our boys talk about feeling lonely - and maybe Bruce already knows that Tony cares, but it sure is nice to hear.

“D’you ever just sit around wondering if anybody cares?”

Bruce hadn’t made a sound, but somehow Tony had known the second Bruce had come into the room. Bruce closed the door quietly behind him, making his way toward Tony with his hands tucked awkwardly into his pockets.

The compound was quiet; everyone had gone to bed except for Vision, who couldn’t have conformed to human sleeping patterns if he’d tried. Tony was sitting on top of the work table, a tumbler in hand, staring out the glass walls onto the track below. The stadium lights were still on - that had to be a waste of electricity - but there was no one outside. It felt eerie, seeing a field normally full of recruits entirely deserted. Bruce shot Tony a sidelong glance.

“Cares about what?” Bruce asked softly, finally responding to Tony’s question.

“Whether or not you exist.”

Bruce made a face. He could see it reflected in the glass in front of them; it looked skeptical and sad. He wasn’t sure whether that was better or worse than Tony’s indifference.

“Me and existence don’t exactly have a great relationship,” Bruce said, hopping up onto the table next to Tony. “My whole life is basically an existential crisis.”

Tony chuckled, his mouth closed. “Are you saying it’s not easy being green?”

Bruce closed his eyes, powerless to stop the smile that spread across his face. “You’re awful, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

In the silence that followed, Tony put the tumbler to his lips and tipped it back, finishing what was left of the whiskey. Bruce stared at him, wondering just how long Tony had been sitting in here by himself.

“Did something happen?” Bruce asked.

“No. Not really.” Tony looked down into the empty glass, swirling the ice a few times before setting it down beside him. “It’s just… How can you be surrounded by so many people, so many things, and still feel lonely?”

Bruce crossed his arms, pressing them tightly into his chest. “I could get into the psychology of that, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what you’re asking.”

“I know the psychology. Doesn’t help.” Tony breathed out, a long, slow sigh. “Do you feel lonely, Bruce?”

Bruce stared out into the distance. “All the time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Bruce turned his head, meeting Tony’s eyes. “People care, you know. I care.”

Tony’s expression softened. “Thanks.”

“Wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

Tony didn’t answer. Bruce wasn’t afraid of silence; he let it stretch between them, comfortable and easy, until Tony spoke again.

“Hey, Bruce.”


“I care, too. About you. I know I’m bad at saying it, and even worse at hearing it, but I care.”

That had never been a question. Bruce knew Tony cared. Tony had worked so hard to make Bruce comfortable, to give him tools to deal with the mutation that neither of them had been able to fix. Tony sent Bruce equations to solve, not because Tony couldn’t work them out, but because Tony knew that Bruce liked to feel useful. And Tony called Bruce every other day, usually under the guise of needing to talk through some new tech or other. Bruce saw straight through that, but he never commented. He needed those talks just as much as Tony did.

Tony’s actions told Bruce enough. Still. It was nice to hear the words out loud. Bruce logged them away, saving them for the next time he thought he was all alone in this enormous, random universe.

“I know, Tony.” Bruce kept his eyes trained on the floor, smiling to himself. “I know.”


Reggie x Reader: We Could Happen (One Shot)

(A/N: SHOUTOUT TO @trashyemonerd​ for this request and I am so sorry it took so long I have finished this story days ago but COMPLETELY FUCKING FORGOT I AM A TRASH but I hope you enjoy it)

Plot:The one where all Reggie needed was a chance you were afraid to give.

Originally posted by riverdalebish

“Good morning, sunshine.”

You rolled your eyes, internally groaning, when you heard the all too familiar voice from behind your locker door. You quickly took your Pre-Calculus book as quickly as possible and slammed your door shut. As expected, the cocky football captain was already leaning his shoulders on the locker beside, seemingly not minding the fact that the owner of said locker has been trying to get past him for the last thirty seconds.

“Hello, Reggie,” he also didn’t seem to mind your lack of enthusiasm.  “,here for your daily schedule of annoying the ever loving fuck out of me?”

“You wound me, darling,” he leaned back and dramatically fisted his white shirt in mock offense. Although, his award winning smile managed to stay on his face, showing you how misleading it was.

You rolled your eyes once more, hoping to God it will not get stuck at the back of your head from the amount of times you seem to roll your eyes at him. You turned your back at Reggie and started walking away, not wanting to get dragged at his silly games so early in the morning.

“Sunshi – Sunshine, wait!” You huffed, trying to will yourself not to listen which was proven fruitless considering the difference in your leg span.

“(Y/N).” You were given no choice when Reggie forcibly stopped you in your tracks with two hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “I –“

“I don’t want to be late, Reggie –“

“Just listen to me!” your eyes widened at the tone of his voice, looking around, and thanking God, when you saw that most of the students have already went inside their respective classes.

You are so late.

It didn’t matter anyway, not when Reggie was hastily dragging you away from the main campus but towards the football field.

“Reggie, stop!” You harshly pulled your hands back, wincing from the sudden sharp pain, making him effectively look back to you. When he noticed how you held your hands and the pain in your face he was quick to take your damaged wrist and checked it for any serious injury.

He sighed in relief. “Sorry.”

He seemed so sad when he started to put a bit of a distance between you two that you actually felt bad. “It’s okay I just – I had Calculus and I … I didn’t want to miss it since I’m shit at –“

“Why don’t you like me?”

You felt your heart tighten. When you looked up at him he was already sitting on the ground, looking at everything and nothing altogether, staring at his hands that were tightly wounded together in front of him.

He looked so beautiful with the 8 o’clock sunshine that you bit the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from confessing right then and there. You wanted to tell him, how wrong he was, how much you liked him, and how you fear the day he will finally get tired of you and stop pursuing you because, believe it or not, you had a heart too. And Reggie Mantle took it in his own annoyingly persistent manner.

“Why do you?”

Your insecurity that had built up over the past few months finally broke away.

That seemed to catch him off guard as his neck nearly snapped from looking at you too quickly. “What?”

You sat beside him hugging your knees close to your chest. It was now or never. “Am I a joke to you, Reggie?”

Reggie didn’t stop staring at you, studying you, wondering what he did to make you ask a question as horrible as that. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Reggie’s mind was running. Was it him? What did he do? He was pretty sure he had been loud and clear with his feelings for you, literally. (Screaming it at the whole cafeteria that he was asking you out and any other boy can go fuck off and is only wasting their time was probably not the best idea but still.)

Was it one of his teammates? They do tend to run their mouth which you could’ve misunderstood but if it was them then Reggie would not let it go this time, not when it comes to you.

Was it one of your friends? They never did like him and the feeling was mutual but he didn’t think they’d stoop so low as making you think he was only playing with you.

“I just …” Reggie’s mental murder streak was stopped when he heard you speak, “It’s weird. It was like our whole lives I was a nobody to you and for me you were just a dumb jock that bullies my friend every once in a while and then suddenly … suddenly it was – you are –“

“Sophomore year, don’t you remember?”

This time it was your turn to stare but he wasn’t looking away. “We just lost a game, my first game as the team captain and … and I was –“

“Beating the shit out of a tree …” You stopped your jaw from gasping when you remembered.

“… who did nothing wrong to me.” He finished with a shit-eating grin.

“Reggie, enough!” You wrapped your arms around his waist from his back and dragged him away from the tree that had a huge and bloody dent in its trunk. But you underestimated his weight causing the two of you to fall to the ground.

You prepared for the impact but Reggie was thankfully a boy full of instincts and managed to turn the both of you around so he landed on the ground and you landed on his chest.

“(Y/N)?” he asked, obviously dishevelled and confused.

You could feel all the blood in your body rush to your head when you saw how close your faces were from each other and how he seems to know your name and how he probably thinks you’re a creepy stalker that has an altar of him in your room where you perform blood sacrifices – so you quickly pushed yourself away from him.

“What the hell were you doing punching a fucking tree like that, dumbass.”

You tried to calm yourself by berating him and even if he did look confused he managed a chuckle, as if being woken up from a dream, and shook his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, sitting up with you. “, wanted to release some frustration.”

“By beating the shit out of a tree who did nothing wrong to you?”

You two at you stared at each other in silence, before he started cracking up and you doing the same.

“Yeah that kinda sounds dumb when you say it like that.”

The two of you laughed some more and despite being in the woods where monsters and serial killers could rest at the middle of the night the two of you actually felt comfortable and safe with each other. When the silence stretched out long enough to be awkward you decided to cut it off with a knife.

“Come on, let me fix up that hand of yours,” you stood up first and held out your hand for him which he took immediately

“You really are nice, aren’t you?” he snickered. “I mean I’ve heard the rumours of sweet lil’ (Y/N) but I never thought—“

”Shut up,” you lightly punched him in his arms.”I expect you to be kicking ass next game and you can’t do that with fucked up hands.”

“Well, as thanks,” you were shocked when he didn’t let go of your hands even when you started walking. He didn’t seem to notice and you really didn’t mind. It wasn’t everyday you get to hold hands with Reggie Mantle. “, let me reserve you a front seat next week. Best view.”

The two of you stared at each other for what felt like forever but was only a few seconds in real life. You snorted, and looked away.

“Just win the bloody game, captain.”

“You remembered …” you whispered, in shock.

“Not really something you can just forget.”

“Considering we never even talked like normal human beings after it, it wasn’t that unlikely.”

“I,” he scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck, seemingly embarrassed. “Unfortunately, I’m not good with having crushes. I kinda … I panicked and didn’t know how to, uh … talk to you … properly.” 

His eyes widened when he saw you biting down the impending laughter that was about to explode from your mouth. ”In my defense, I never had a crush before so … I’m sorry?”

You can feel another urge to laugh and coo from how cute the big bad Reggie Mantle looked with a flushed face while simultaneously trying every angle possible to not look in your eyes.

“Uhm … I know you don’t like me that much right now but I swear to you I’m not joking when I said I like you. “ He cleared his throat, looking straight at you making you feel more flustered than you have ever been your whole life but you didn’t have the heart to look away. “And I know I am probably shooting for the moon and you are totally out of my league but a boy can dream, right?”

You were shocked by his words. You never thought Reggie Mantle, of all people, would be that good with words. You weren’t a mind reader but you know a genuine confession when you hear one.

You decided right then and there that the two of you deserved a chance.

“I eat breakfast at 5 am every Sunday at Pop’s.”


“Exactly what I said,” you felt a sudden surge of confidence run in your veins.

It’s a pretty huge confidence booster when the infamous resident asshole of Riverdale High decides to drop his ‘I’m-a-jerk’ act and confesses to you. You didn’t even bother to bite back the smile that exploded in your face.

You leaned towards Reggie and decided to end his torture as you gently gave him a peck on the cheeks.

“Do what you want to do with that information.”

13.02 The Rising Son

359 words, deancas, coda 

The kid still doesn’t stop mimicking him. After Dean tells him off, Jack’s still sneakily running his fingers through his hair when he sees Dean doing it. He’s still following Dean, still imitating him when Dean rubs his knuckles with his fingers, trying to get the damn grime off that feels like it’s been clinging to his skin ever since he held Cas’ body in his arms.

But it’s not grime.

It’s goddamn grief and he can’t wash it away.

So, “Why?” Dean says, in those small moments of respite that they have in that motel room, when Sam’s out of earshot and Jack’s still intent on being Dean. “Why the hell can’t you just copy Sam?”

Don’t you know, Jack, that you’re just pretending to be a mourning man?

And Jack looks guiltily down at his hands. Jack seems to rock a little on his feet, but finally, he says, “Because I want to be like my father.”

But, I’m not your father, Dean says.

And there’s a long silence that stretches out. A heavy, heavy silence that creeps in and settles in on Dean’s shoulders like a burden, and Dean swallows. Dean just swallows and rubs at his knuckles again.

It’s Jack who puts his hand on Dean’s left shoulder.

It’s Jack who looks down at him and places his hand where his father used to touch Dean and it’s Jack whose warmth is there this time, comforting him in the way that Cas always did.

For a moment, that’s all.

But when Dean looks up at the kid, Jack’s eyes are glowing gold and he’s distant, as if it’s someone else inhabiting his body, as if—Dean doesn’t let himself hope but then, “I need you to look after him for me, Dean,” Cas says, and then Dean. just. can’t. breathe.

There’s nothing after that. Dean clutches Jack back with an iron grip and calls Cas’ name a thousand times but when Jack returns to himself, he’s confused and forgetful and Cas is just gone again.

Dean’s left so shaken that he’s on his knees on the carpet before he knows it.

Maybe he imagined it.

(see my 13.01 coda here)

Birthday Drive (Wincest)

AO3 Link: Here
Written for: @spnkinkbingo
Square Filled: Road Head

Ship: Sam/Dean
Rating: Explicit
Content Warning: underage (Sam is 16), birthday sex, oral sex, rough oral, implied bottom!Sam, road head, PWP, smut
Summary: It’s Sam’s 16 birthday, and Dean wants to do something special for him. Sam’s got plans of his own.
Word Count: 2514
A/N: Tags are at the bottom, send an ask to be added to my tagslist!

“Happy birthday, Sammy.”

Sam blinked a few times, rolling over and looking blearily at Dean. “Huh?”

“It’s your birthday, man. You’re sixteen. I expected you to be jumpin’ around an hour ago.”

“What time is it?” Sam groaned, burrowing a little deeper under the ratty motel cover.

“About nine. Come on. I made you breakfast.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“Took off already, working on interviewing folks,” Dean said. Sam peeked at him over the covers.

“For how long?”

“Don’t know. He said he’d give you a break since it was your birthday. So we have the whole day to hang out. Why don’t we go for a drive?”

Keep reading

colinmorgay  asked:

5+reddie? :)

Here you go! Hope this is okay for you! :) 

Send me more prompts either here or here

read it on AO3

Eddie hated High School. Between getting thrown in lockers, being tripped up in the hallways and being told he wasn’t ‘the right type’ to try out for any sports, he also had to deal with the fact that he was losing his best friend.

They were in junior year of High School and they were at the age that dating was the social norm. Beverly and Ben were together, Bill and Stan were together, hell even Mike had a girlfriend, a girl names Sophie that was in his biology class. For a while it was just Eddie and Richie that remained the only two single members of the Losers Club.

Until now, that is.

Keep reading

For @princemagnusbane. Happy Birthday love, and I hope you have a wonderful day and a just as amazing year.

Having to transport a rogue warlock to Idris hadn’t been his idea of an ideal end to the party. His idea had had more to do with fireworks and a demolition of the rune sculpture.

But as was expected, after Iris had been sent off, Clary and Simon left and Jace had gone away shortly afterward. Isabelle had wandered off with Alec and Maryse was nowhere to be found.

Thoughts of Alec brought to mind thoughts of the ledge and he found himself instinctively heading back to the scene of the crime. He pushed open the door, caught sight of the vast sky, the damn ledge and Maryse Lightwood, fingers knuckled on that same ledge, hunched slightly forward as she stared down at the ground.

“You take that leap and I can’t guarantee that I will act as fast to save you,” Magnus drawled.

Maryse twirled around, her unbound hair whipping around her face. She looked furious, but her eyes… he knew that look, had had that look on his own face too many times to count.

He sighed, thinking of his party theme.

Robert Lightwood, you cheating lying bastard.

“He’s not worth it you know,” he said conversationally. “No man who cheats is worth it.”

“And what do you know about a man cheating on you?” Maryse sneered. She left the words unsaid but he knew what she was thinking. That men like Magnus did the cheating and were not the ones cheated on.

If only she knew.

Magnus cocked his head and stared at her. Taking note of the sad eyes and the proud tilt of her chin. The way she stared straight at him, body tensing as she pulled her armor around herself. In that moment, she looked the exact replica of her children. Showed that they definitely got everything they are from her. Not from Robert. No. Their strength and conviction they got from Maryse Lightwood.

“More than you know. Centuries of living leaves room for centuries of heartache and heartbreak and loss,” Magnus murmured, eyes staring into the distance, unaware of the bright lights of the city at his feet. He stared ahead, seeing only faces and names, of lovers too numerous for some to count, he knew them all though. Remembered everyone of them. Lovers he’d once loved and had thought they loved him right back.

He’d been wrong.

He sighed and looked back at Maryse who was studying him with a contemplative expression on her face, lips pursed and eyes just a tad bit narrowed.

He gave a little bow in her direction and made to walk away, pulling to a stop at her softly whispered words.

“Thank you Magnus.”

Keep reading

go on like we belong (together)

Vex has a bit of a trip to make. Percy offers to come along. It’s all a little more complicated than she expects. [2K]

@percyvex mentioned a perc’ahlia road trip au and I have no self control so. happy birthday kaity!! think of this as a taste of things to come <3

“You coming then?” Vax asks, when the silence has stretched too long.

“Yeah,” Vex says around the lump in her throat. “Yeah, I’m–– I’ll be there.”

“Do you want me to––”

“No.” She shakes her head, even though he can’t see her. “I’m, ah. I’ll get there. Drive, y’know.”

“Sure, yeah. Take as much time as you need. We’ll be here.”


The line goes quiet again. Vex sucks in a deep breath and tries to come up with something––anything––to fill the silence.

“Love you, Stubby,” Vax says quietly, voice all soft and careful, and she wishes it weren’t such a comfort. “Things’ll–– it’ll be okay.”

“Yeah. Love you too. I’ll see you next week.”

“Sure, yeah.”

Percy’s staring when she hangs up the phone. She smiles, and it doesn’t fit right across her face, too crooked and shallow.

“Bad news, then?”

Keep reading

This is for @scarecrowsgohroohraa, who correctly guessed that my pen name is a reference to Bowser.  I was asked to do something with UF!Paps, so I hope you like it!

UF!Papyrus: Icy Roads, Warm Bed


Papyrus glares at you, his eyesockets narrowed despite his flabbergasted tone–as if you should have at least kept a guest room.  Ha!  Yeah, right.  Your modest one-bedroom apartment suits you just fine.  It’s affordable, and it isn’t like you have to host slumber parties or anything.  Your friends are adults; they can go back to their own homes.

But apparently, the grouchiest of your friends cannot.  

It’s your fault Papyrus is stranded with you in the first place.  You had been the one to text him, asking if he had any experience with hot water heaters.  While it may have sounded like some sort of pick-up line (hey baby, do you know how to warm up my pipes?), you had genuinely needed his guidance, and after he irritably attempted to direct you via the phone, he had ultimately given up and driven over to your apartment himself.  After a few comments about not being your handyman, Papyrus had… struggled to solve the puzzle of the hot water heater.  By the time he actually fixed it–just in time for the winter storm–the sun had set and the roads were completely iced over.  

Which meant he needed to stay the night and wait until everything warmed up tomorrow afternoon and the roads began to thaw.  That also lead to your current predicament–sleeping arrangements.  

Your bedroom contains a full-sized bed pushed against the wall for added space, while your living room has a loveseat and a recliner, both of which are too short for Papyrus to comfortably lie across.  The bed would be fine, but…

You shift uncomfortably, your gaze returning to the irritated skeleton.  While the two of you are friends, with his attitude, you ended up at one another’s throats more often than not.  It’s best to just give in this time, especially since he had actually helped you before getting iced in.  "Yeah, just one bed.  Look, I’ll just take the couch so you can stretch out,“ you offer, already moving to grab your pajamas out of a drawer.

Papyrus stares at you for a moment more, before he glances away.  Either his eyelights are glowing brighter, the light casting a glow upon his high cheekbones, or he’s blushing.  ”… IT’S FINE.  WE CAN JUST SHARE THE BED.“

You freeze in the middle of closing the drawer, slowly turning toward him.  ”… What?“

"OH, DON’T ACT LIKE YOU DIDN’T HEAR ME, HUMAN! I SAID WE CAN SHARE THE BED!  YOUR COUCH IS STIFF AND LUMPY.  YOU WOULD WAKE UP WITH YOUR BACK KILLING YOU.”  His arms cross, and he averts his gaze from you to your mattress, glaring even harder.  You continue to stare, completely flabbergasted.  Is he serious..?

Papyrus plops down on the edge of the mattress and begins taking off his tall, thick-soled boots.  He doesn’t take off his socks, but he does take off his gloves, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen his phalanges.  You’ve seen Sans’s countless times–he never wears gloves–but Papyrus’s fingers are long and slender, the skeleton equivalent of pianist fingers.  He shoves his crimson gloves into his boots and then unwinds the ragged scarf from his neck, leaving on his tight black jeans and shirt.  

He’s serious about this.

So why make it weird?

“O-okay, I’ll just go change,” you manage, slipping out of the room without your pajamas in hand and a flush to your face.  It’s not that big of a deal; you’re just sharing a bed.  You’ve done that with friends plenty of times.  

…Only this time, it’s with someone you find incredible attractive.  Even if the two of you argue all the time, it only fuels the fire.  He challenges you, and you him, and you had begun to sneak a flirtatious tone to the arguments that you weren’t quite sure he understood.  This could be an opportunity to make a move.

Or it could be an opportunity to lie awake all night, staring at the ceiling in the dark, while being acutely aware that his arm was close enough to brush yours.  

You know it’s probably going to be the latter and sigh, changing your clothes, and finally heading back to the bedroom.  Papyrus is sitting on the edge of the bed, impatiently waiting.  "…YOU GET IN FIRST.  I DON’T WANT TO SLEEP AGAINST THE WALL.“  

"Who says I do?” you shoot back automatically, bristling over his demand, and he rolls his eyelights, nonplussed.


Arguing over something stupid like that is just delaying the inevitable, so you sigh and throw your hands down at your sides.  Complying, you crawl across the bed to the side closest to the wall and lie down.  Papyrus flips off the lamp without looking at you and lies down.  It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the lack of light enough to make out his outline, and when they do, you can see that he’s lying on his side with his back toward you.  

The bed feels warm with him in it, and you were surrounded.  Your shoulder is against the wall, and your arms are gathered onto your abdomen so your elbow won’t touch Papyrus, but… you’re wide awake, as expected.  You’re hyper-aware of every little movement he makes, and as the silence stretches, you begin to relax your arms.  This isn’t that awkward, you decide after several long minutes have passed, and even though your face is still burning, you manage to close your eyes.  You’re just sleeping with your grouchy crush; that’s no big deal, right?  

When morning comes, you wake up feeling comfortable and warm, like you’re wrapped up in a cocoon.  You must have made yourself into a blanket burrito again.  You snuggle deeper into the blankets, your half-lidded gaze shifting from the wall to your cocoon–

Only to spot skeletal arms wrapped around you.  

Your blush only intensifies are you note that long, slender fingers are gripping the softness of your chest, while the other hand is splayed across your abdomen.  Your spine stiffens, and you draw in a deep, ragged breath through your nose, the events of last night replaying.  Papyrus seemed to have rolled over in his sleep, and the two of you ended up spooning.  You start to turn your head back toward him, only to realize its tucked beneath his chin.  

What do you do?  Do you lie here and continue to let him grab onto you in his sleep, or do you attempt to break his hold and slip out of bed?  Do you wake him up with an elbow to the sternum and never let him live it down?  Or do you just go back to sleep?

While you’re weighing your choices and trying to calm down, you suddenly feel Papyrus stiffen from behind you.  Obviously, he just woke up and realized what he was doing.  You feel his fingers flex, trying to figure out what he’s grabbing onto, and you suddenly see a reddish light cast upon the beige wall directly in front of you.  This time, you know he’s blushing.   He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, and very carefully, he removes his hands, slowly dragging one of his arms out from beneath you, while simultaneously backing away to his side of the bed.  You don’t move the entire time.

After a few moments with him lying there, the mattress creaks as he finally sits up, and you turn your head to watch him rake his phalanges across his face and over his head.  He stays like that for a moment, hands on his face and his back hunched over, so you decide to snap him out of whatever trance he’s in.

“G'morning,” you greet with a stage yawn for emphasis.  His entire body jerks, his spine snapping straight and his hands immediately falling.  He doesn’t turn around, most likely because he’s still blushing a bright crimson.

“GOOD MORNING!!”  His voice is an octave higher than usual and comes out with forced enthusiasm.  

“Did you sleep well?”  You sit up, stretching your arms above your head to get your back to pop.  Papyrus flinches at the sound and jumps to his feet.

“YES!  Y-YES!  VERY WELL!  ALL GOOD!  BUT I’M HUNGRY, SO I’M.. I’M GOING TO MAKE BREAKFAST!”  He nearly stumbles in his haste to flee the room, and you’re unsure if you should be flattered that you have this effect on him, insulted that he ran away, or neither because he’s probably just mortified that he got handsy while you both were unconscious.  

Either way, you get out of bed and follow him to the kitchen.  His cooking is, quite frankly, the worst thing you’ve ever experienced, so you manage to shoulder him out of the way and make instant pancakes while he grumbles and sits on a stool to watch.  By the time you’re finished eating, he’s able to look at you without turning red again.  Neither of you mention what happened, both playing dumb, and you watch TV together while you wait for the roads to thaw.

“You know…” you begin, glancing up at him.  He looks relaxed, but he always does when he’s watching MTT.  "…maybe you shouldn’t chance driving today.  It would probably be safer if you just stay another night.“

The suggestion tumbles past your lips before you can stop it, and you mentally wince.  Is it too obvious that you want to sleep beside him again?  Is he going to–

"THAT SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD IDEA.  I DON’T WANT TO POTENTIALLY DAMAGE MY VEHICLE!”  He doesn’t even look away from the television, despite giving in so easily.  

You can’t help but smile.  "That’s right.  You’d flip your shit if your baby got scratched.“

"THAT CAR IS WORTH MORE THAN YOUR LIFE, HUMAN!” He scoffs, the words holding no bite.  

The two of you bicker back and forth, but you’re distracted, thinking about tonight.

You’re going to be the one to “accidentally” cuddle him this time.  

Getting to Know You

Prompt: “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me.”

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam

Word Count: ~2200-ish

Warnings: Fluff, Slightly sexual situations, Language maybe I don’t remember, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of past injuries and small amounts of blood. Also, for all intents and purposes, the reader is short in this series

A/N: This is for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing ’s SPN Hiatus Writing Challenge (yes, I have a million other things to finish, shhhhh I’m sorry my sweet bbs) where she provides us with a couple prompts each week during the hiatus and we’ve got a week to finish! I’ve given myself the extra challenge of somehow making all of these fit together into one storyline, so I have no idea what’s gonna happen here but I hope y’all stick around to find out lol.

Thanks to @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @hanny-writes-spn for looking this over for me~ 

As always, I live off of feedback! So lemme know what you think!

Tags at the bottom!

(gif source)

“Well, you’re welcome and all that for saving your asses for the thousandth time.” You said with a cheeky smile that had both Sam and Dean rolling their eyes.

“You might be delusional from that hit to the head, kid, because I distinctly remember busting into that vampire den and taking your ass out of the fire.” Dean replied.

“Literally,” Sam added with a confused look. “I still don’t understand why they had you like rotisserie-style over the fire.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a disgusted groan. “I don’t know, that main chick was so wordy I just tuned them out after awhile. Damn bloodsuckers said something about blood tasting different that way? They weren’t trying to cook me, fire wasn’t hot enough. I just got really sweaty.”

“Maybe they wanted something a little smoky? I mean, who wouldn’t miss a good barbecue?” Dean chuckled as he threw their machetes in Baby’s trunk.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You said rubbing the back of your head.

Keep reading

snapped strings

on ao3

i dont know what happened today but all my friends started arguing and i spent almost two hours just crying. it was pretty bad. i wanted nothing more than for it all to stop or for someone to show up and just give me a hug

i dont think were going to be ok anytime soon

take some bullshit. the characterizations are kind of shit. i wrote half of this while crying and didnt reread it. im sorry

Marinette lunges for her headphones when she hears him land on the balcony. She wipes her cheeks with the sleeves of her sweater — not that it does much with how wet they are — and pretends she doesn’t hear him. Because she doesn’t want to hear him.

She doesn’t want him near her right now.

He knocks on the trapdoor.

She can’t find her headphones in her mess of a bed. Her phone is on the floor now, where she threw it in frustration after Alya left the chat angrily and Marinette’s tears turned into sobs.

She’s just happy her parents haven’t come up to see what’s wrong yet. She wants to be left alone. She doesn’t want him here.

He keeps knocking.

Keep reading


Part 2 - Part 3

Pairing: EXO Chanyeol / Baekhyun X Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: Alcohol use

Word Count: 1,295

A/N so I’ve decided to do this in parts just bc… why not lol



1.      the quality of being honest and having strong moral principles.

2.      the state of being whole and undivided.

The garden party had buzzed with anticipation – the problem was, you’d had no idea what for. Chanyeol, your best friend, was hosting the party. It was a summer evening; the sun was setting while pockets of light were strung between the trees of Chanyeol’s large back garden. There were many tables scattered on the lawn, picnic chairs tucked neatly under them. The sizzle of the barbecue merged with the gentle murmuring and laughs of the guests. A soft smell of cooking meat floated throughout the garden; Chanyeol’s friends Kyungsoo and Jongin were in charge of the food. It was common for Chanyeol to host parties and you’d agreed to go without hesitation.

After all, you were in love with him. Tall, handsome and with a personality no one else could ever surpass, you’d fallen for him years ago. You’d grown up with him and watched him shape and mature into the man in his twenties which he was today. The only issue was that he had a girlfriend. And you couldn’t even bring yourself to dislike her; she was lovely. Ara and Chanyeol were almost perfect, you completely understood their attraction towards each other. Yet you couldn’t shake off the idea that you and Chanyeol yourselves would be a match made in heaven. Couldn’t anyone else see quite how close you and Chanyeol really were? The overly touchy-feely best friends that would irritate any normal girl – but for some reason – Ara didn’t mind. It almost annoyed you, you wanted her to be jealous.

The only other person aware of your suffering was Baekhyun. Chanyeol’s closest male friend and another of your best friends. The two of you had been playing a casual game of Truth or Dare one day, and after asking whether you’d marry, kiss or avoid Chanyeol, Baekhyun himself and Jongin, he’d easily worked out that you had a crush on his friend. That was before Chanyeol had even met Ara, and Baekhyun had been there for you throughout each step of their relationship, comforting you when they had first become official.

You’d opted to wear a pretty, flowy, summery dress that hung above your knees. Your hair was styled specifically for the party, and Baekhyun had earlier found some flowers for you, asking Ara to weave them into your hair.

You hadn’t realised the garden party was going to be a step far too tall for you to reach. You’d be giving Chanyeol away. Everyone had suddenly voluntarily gathered under the open marquee. You had a glass of champagne in your hand and curiously made your way over - suspecting Chanyeol was going to make a clichéd speech of some sort - where you settled next to Jongdae, another of Chanyeol’s friends. You weren’t sure what was happening, but everyone seemed to have made a circle around Chanyeol and Ara.

Suddenly Chanyeol was down on one knee and clasping Ara’s left hand in his own.

“…and I just can’t imagine a life without you. Ara, will you marry me?” Squeals of delight, gasps and cheers erupted around the marquee, even the flames of the barbecue seemed to crackle in approval. You did your best to stop spitting out the champagne in your mouth. You had to place your glass down on the table to your left, gripping onto it so tensely it felt like your knuckles were going to protrude out your skin.

Keep reading

@queercapwriting, with Flash Season 4 premiering tonight, don’t think about Caitlin Snow.  Don’t think about how she made the decision to isolate herself from her friends until she can figure out a way to truly master herself.

Don’t think about how after several weeks of loneliness and frustration, Caitlin finally realizes that she can’t do this alone.  Don’t think about how she realizes that, and still refuses to go back to S.T.A.R. Labs, because that seems like admitting failure.  Don’t think about how that doesn’t change the fact that she needs help.

Don’t think about how Caitlin can’t go to her mother, unless she wants to be treated like a test subject.  Don’t think about how her old colleagues at Mercury Labs haven’t talked to her since she left to go back to S.T.A.R. Labs.  Don’t think about how Caitlin realizes that she needs help, needs someone to bounce ideas off of, needs someone to tell her when she’s just spinning her wheels and needs to take a break.  Don’t think about how limited her options are, when every other lab researching metahumans is looking to weaponize them.

Don’t think about how nervous Caitlin is when she finally figures out who can help her.  Don’t think about how she hesitates before sending the email, because what if she gets told no?

Don’t think about how relieved she is when Lily Stein’s reply hits her inbox five minutes later.

Don’t think about how Caitlin kicks herself for not thinking of Lily sooner.  Don’t think about how good it feels just to have someone to talk to about her ideas, her theories, and her fears.  Don’t think about how Lily is the perfect candidate to help Caitlin, just as smart, but with a completely different specialty, able to approach the problem from a different angle.  Don’t think about how she doesn’t freak, since her father is already half of a superhero himself.

Don’t think about the long nights spent in the lab together, dense scientific conversations and long stretches of comfortable silence. Don’t think about how the more time they spend together, the more they both open up. Don’t think about the first time they decide to cut out early and go to the bar, since neither one can remember the last time they did something just for fun, outside of the lab.

Don’t think about how Caitlin wakes up the next morning, her memories largely blurry, except that she remembers looking at Lily and thinking, “God, she’s pretty.”

Don’t think about how Caitlin catches herself watching Lily work, not realizing she’s been staring until Lily notices. Don’t think about the little touches they start to share, fingers brushing when they pass each other equipment, the shy smiles they shoot each other, the compliments that could just be friendly but might be more.

Don’t think about how when Caitlin finally cracks the problem, she’s so excited she kisses Lily before she can stop herself.

Don’t think about how they both blush and stammer and do it again.

Don’t think about how they’re both uncertain, because this is new to both of them, but neither one backs down because this is something they both want.

Don’t think about how when Caitlin is ready to go back to her friends, Lily walks in right next to her, holding her hand.

Don’t think about any of this, because the CW wouldn’t know what to do with an epic slow burn sapphic romance that includes two genius-level intellects and exploits the nature of the shared universe even if someone gift wrapped it for them.

And whatever you do, absolutely don’t include this plot bunny in any fixit fics you may or may not write relating to the Flash, because you’d probably make it beautiful and touching, and I’ve been watching the Flash long enough to know that there are two settings: Bad Decisions and Secrets. Both usually involve time travel.

(also, I’ve never seen this ship, what would you call it?  Killer Aberration? SnowStein? NanoSnow? Does it have a name? Has anyone else written anything for this? Please tell me I’m not alone in wanting this.)

It’s Okay To Cry

Title: It’s Okay To Cry

Characters: Winchester brothers x Winchester!reader

Words: 1300

[Sadness, self-pressure, fluff]

You’re feeling sad and your brothers comfort you.

A/N: Don’t know where this came from really, I was in a good mood and then I just got this huge inspiration to write sadness haha.

Your name: submit What is this?

When you got back to the motel room you could already feel a lump forming in your throat. You did your best to ignore it, but you could tell that the mission would be quite impossible. So, naturally, you wanted to leave.

Dumping your bag on one of the beds, you immediately turned to the front door again. Your brothers inevitably caught sight of this.

”I-I think I’m going for a walk.” You declared quickly, before one of them could ask.

”Oh, okay, why?” Sam wondered, and you heard the confusion in his voice.

”Yeah, something wrong?” Dean chimed in, not far behind.

You didn’t look at them, instead you kept on facing the other way. Your eyes rested on your hands as you rummaged the pocket of your leather jacket for your phone. It was there, right where you had put it last.

”No… no, I just need some fresh air.” You shook your head as a further gesture, since your voice was rather weak.

You briefly pondered if Sam and Dean could hear how much you struggled to keep your voice steady, normal. Hopefully, they didn’t, but if they did you at least wished that they would catch on and not push it.

You didn’t give them any time to either react or respond, because you fumblingly grasped the door handle and escaped through the door.

Once outside you started the feel how your eyes burned. You pushed the tears away, you were a big girl, you were too old to cry like this. But most of all, you were a Winchester. And Winchesters didn’t weep.

Your hurried footsteps took you to a remote sidewalk leading into the forest. The fact that it was empty and surrounded by dark trees didn’t bother you at all, you actually wanted to be alone. Besides, you didn’t have to go far to return to the rest of the civilization.

The sun had almost retired from the sky, leaving behind a lilac shade all across it. Apart from leaves slightly rustling in a huff of wind, it was completely quiet. And there wasn’t a soul in sight. By the side of the path, just a little bit away from you, a bench was placed. You stumbled the last couple of steps towards it, and crashed down onto its seat.

Here, you couldn’t hold back the tears. Once you let out the first sob, the tightness around your chest slightly released as a sensation of relief washed over you. It felt good to let it all out, even though you felt silly and a head ache was getting a tighter grip around your head. This is what happens when you keep your emotions bottled up for too long. You were pushing yourself a bit too hard, even you could see that. But you had to, it was the job. Everyone else could handle it and so should you. You weren’t weak. That’s how you felt right now though.

Because here you were, sitting on a bench all alone, in a town you knew almost nothing about except for in which state it could be found, crying your eyes out. The sobs rocked your body as the hot tears rolled down your cheeks. You placed your elbows on your kneecaps and rested your face in the palms of your hands, hiding it. You were exhausted, and this sadness that you couldn’t shake enveloped you, not even for a good reason. Just because, it seems like.

”(Y/N)?” A ruff voice caught your attention.

You lifted your gaze and saw a somewhat blurred Dean in front of you, due to the tears in your eyes, clouding your vision. You opened your mouth to say something but couldn’t find any words.

Dean however sat down next to you on the bench, his eyes worried. He flung an arm around your shoulders, expecting you to curl into his hug. But instead, you looked away in another direction.

”This is embarrassing.” You muttered before you let out a choked, humorless laugh. You were ashamed of how you cried like a little child. You tried to wipe away some tears with the sleeve of you jacket, possibly some snot too in the process.

”Has something happened?” Dean asked, still looking at you, although you wouldn’t look back at him. He gently rubbed your back.

”No,” you shook you head. ”Nothing.”

”Then why are you sad?”

You didn’t have an answer to his question. It was far too simple for him to ask, judging by how far too hard it was for you to reply to.

”I don’t know.” It stung to admit that. And as if that wasn’t enough, you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out another sob.

”Hey, hey!” Your oldest brother’s voice was quiet, smooth. He reached out his hands and placed them on your cheeks, wiping away the heavy teardrops with his large thumbs, gently demanding you to turn your head towards him. ”Look at me.”

”I’m sorry,” you whimpered. The words left your mouth almost before you even thought of them. You were barely aware that you’d said them, they just slipped out.

”No, you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s perfectly okay to feel sad. It’s okay to cry if you need to.” Dean’s green orbs nailed your own.

”I feel stupid.” You mumbled.

”Don’t. This only means that you’re human. Just like the rest of us.” He insured you, a faint, reassuring smiled played on his lips.

”You don’t break down like this.”

”Doesn’t mean I never have and I never will. Doesn’t mean I come damn close.” Dean revealed. ”Maybe it’s only because I don’t pressure myself as much as you do. (Y/N), you don’t need to be so hard on yourself. You’re doing great.”

”At hunting?” You questioned with a small voice. The tears still slowly rolled down your cheeks, but they weren’t coming as fast. And the ones that spilled over, Dean wiped away.

”At everything. (Y/N), you are the bravest person I know.”

A smiled made its way to your lips and you chuckled lightly through the tears. His words warmed your heart. ”Thank you.”

”It’s true. And by the way, it’s better to feel than to not.” He smiled back at you.

”Are you sure about that?” You asked.

”Not always. But in the end, I believe so.”

You nodded, taking in what he had said. Then, you wrapped your arms around his upper body and he pulled you in close, his body warmth warming you up too.

After a moment he spoke up. ”Ready to go back?”

You nodded into his chest, creating a mess in your hair, but you didn’t care.

”Come on then, kiddo.”

When you returned back to the motel, Sam almost immediately, shyly appeared around a corner. He watched you with weary hazel eyes, otherwise know as the puppy dog eyes. Dean nodded at him, while you attempted to smile.

Sam took this as a signal that it was okay to come closer, and he made his way over to you in a couple of fast, long strides as he stretched out his arms, a wingspan of about two meters. He was damn tall, your brother.

As he reached you, he engulfed you in a bear hug. He bent his neck, pressed his cheek against the top of your head and his large hand patted your hair. You clasped your arms around his waist, and in this comfort, a few more tears slipped out, wetting Sammy’s shirt. Although, there wasn’t much sadness left anymore.

Dean watched his siblings hug with a fond smile on his face.

A few moments of silence passed and still, no one had uttered a word since you came through the door.

That was until Sam broke the silence.

”You wanna watch a movie?” He kindly asked in a low voice.

”Yeah,” you sniffled one last time. ”I would love that.”

Black Coffee and Bad Pickup Lines; Chapter 4

Chapter 4: To Dance With The Water

At least four times a week after work (if not more than that), Moana takes the time to visit her grandmother. A twenty minute drive from the town, for most of which was on a dirt road through possibly jungle terrain (thank the gods she drove a slightly beat up truck) towards the coast, lead her to a small, secluded beachfront hut.

Moana pulled up beside her grandmother’s home and quietly got out of her car. She could see her Gramma Tala dancing by the waves, a good fifteen feet away. The older woman turned her head quickly to find her granddaughter walking leisurely towards her and grinned wildly. She turned back to the water, beckoning Moana closer as she continued her dance.

“Hey Gramma,” Moana smiled as she joined her grandmother’s hula.

“Hello, my darling girl. How have you been?”

“Eh, work is okay I guess,” I’m also kinda-sorta falling increasingly hard for an increasingly beautiful barista who continuously writes increasingly endearing pick up lines on my coffee cups- which I’ve been collecting in my apartment, no big deal.

“Really? No big story?” Tala raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Why’re you acting weird?” Moana laughed awkwardly as her Grandma grinned knowingly.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Wha-I- Gramma! Would I lie to you?” Moana tried (and failed) to keep the discomfort out of her voice, trying (and failing) to focus more on the wide stretch of blue in front of her. The water hugged her ankles, almost like a greeting. Tala shrugged.

“You seem… brighter. Radiant, even. You’re not pregnant, are you?” She joked, elbowing her granddaughter in the ribs. Moana laughed again before the two women fell into a comfortable silence as they danced by the ocean.

A/N: Hey strangers! Long time no see, huh? I know, I know, this chapter is pathetically short, but I just wanted to churn something out quickly for you guys. Sorry about my absence over the last few weeks, today was the last of a period of constant mock exams I’ve been doing at school, so most of my free time had been taken up by revision. HOWEVER, I hope you liked the tiny exchange we see between Moana and Tala!

No Worries

gif is not mine

Title: No Worries

Pairing: Gibbs x Reader

Word Count: 701

Warnings: fluff

A/N: Just a reminder that themed days no longer exist. I do apologize. I hope you all enjoy this! <3 <3 Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I love you all so much! <3

This was requested by an Anon: Imagine Gibbs comforting you when you’re on your period

It was that time of the month where you hated your body and what it did to you.  You especially hated the pain and bloating that came along with your period.  You felt disgusting and wanted nothing more than to go home and lie down.

You groaned at the pain in your lower abdomen, letting your head fall into your arms that were folded on the desk in front of you.  Gibbs had been watching you all morning.  He knew exactly what was going on with you.  

The Marine got up and grabbed his coat.  He padded up to your desk, tapping your shoulder.  “C’mon [Y/N].  You’re not gonna stay here like this all day,” Gibbs spoke in a firm tone.  “You need to get some rest.”

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