the shot glass heard around the world

Thank you, Marsha P Johnson, for throwing the shot glass heard around the world. Thank you for standing with your sisters in the Stonewall uprising. Thank you for telling a reporter at an early Gay Pride, ‘darling, I want my gay rights now’. Thank you for standing up to TERFs who didn’t want drag queens to march. Thank you for founding Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (STAR) with Sylvia Rivera to support queer homeless youth. Thank you for being a Hot Peach and proving that performance is activism. Thank you for never compromising in being you, for standing up to those who attacked you verbally and physically including being stabbed and shot. Thank you for showing us that our heroes can look like us and be like us, we can see ourselves in you as a genderqueer POC whose mental ill health journey is as vital a part of your narrative as your activism. Thank you Marsha for being part of our essential history and herstory.

Yesterday was the anniversary of Marsha’s death. She had marched in the parade and was later found dead in the Hudson. Although originally assumed a suicide because of her mental health, her death was the result of a hate crime. She had been harassed by a gang and one of them later bragged about killing her.

Marsha you are my hero. When I think of our liberation and LGBTQ+ pride I always think first about you.



American activist, Stonewall Riots instigator, “Queen Mother” and “saint.” She moved to New York City in 1966, where her outgoing, ebullient personality made her a well-known fixture among the drag queens and trans women on Christopher Street. She was often homeless, but she was also known for giving her last few dollars away to someone who might need it more. When asked what her middle initial stood for, she would say, “Pay it no mind.” She was present in 1969 when the police raided the Stonewall Inn, proclaiming “I got my civil rights!” and throwing a shot glass at a mirror. The “shot glass heard around the world” is believed by some to be the inciting action of the ensuing riots. After Stonewall, as “crossdressers” were being shunted away from the mainstream gay rights movement, Johnson and her close friend Sylvia Rivera founded the Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries, or STAR. Securing a run-down apartment, they took in as many drag queens and transgender youth as they could, then hustled the streets to raise money so that their children wouldn’t have to. In 1972 she joined the queer performance troupe Hot Peaches, and in 1974 Andy Warhol painted her portrait as part of his series “Ladies and Gentlemen.” She fought for LGBTQ rights all her life, and later joined ACT UP to advocate for people with AIDS. In 1992, shortly after the Pride March, Johnson’s body was found in the Hudson River. The police ruled it a suicide, and refused to investigate the death further.

Thank you, Marsha P Johnson, for throwing the shot glass heard around the world. Thank you for standing with your sisters in the Stonewall uprising. Thank you for telling a reporter at an early Gay Pride, ‘darling, I want my gay rights now’. Thank you for standing up to TERFs who didn’t want drag queens to march. Thank you for founding Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (STAR) with Sylvia Rivera to support queer homeless youth. Thank you for being a Hot Peach and proving that performance is activism. Thank you for never compromising in being you, for standing up to those who attacked you verbally and physically including being stabbed and shot. Thank you for showing us that our heroes can look like us and be like us, we can see ourselves in you as a genderqueer POC whose mental ill health journey is as vital a part of your narrative as your activism. Thank you Marsha for being part of our essential history and herstory.

Yesterday was the anniversary of Marsha’s death. She had marched in the parade and was later found dead in the Hudson. Although originally assumed a suicide because of her mental health, her death was the result of a hate crime. She had been harassed by a gang and one of them later bragged about killing her.

Marsha you are my hero. When I think of our liberation and LGBTQ+ pride I always think first about you.


(Art by me, Corinna Tomrley)

Testing the Waters: Chapter Two [Simon D Scenario]


Take The Stares

When you finally emerged from your room, you had noticed that most of the guys had already left for the club but Jay had been kind enough to let you sleep a bit more. Now fashionably over an hour late, you walked in with Jay slightly holding your elbow so to not get separated in the crowd.

Keep reading

Marry You (Pietro x Reader)

(Credit to gif owner)

Fandom: Marvel

Character: Pietro Maximoff

Word Count: 783

A/N - hi!! could you please make a fanfic of the reader and Pietro Maximoff to where they’ve known eachother for a while during their experimentations and when the reader, pietro, and wanda escape. and a while after the ultron situation (pietro lives in this version) pietro proposes to the reader and has a VERY fluffy wedding night!?!? (btw could the reader have water controlling powers)

For itssquishysblog, I hope you enjoy <3

You remembered the battle. “How many of these things are there?” you shouted, shooting blasts of water at more Ultron bots. You weren’t sure how long you had been fighting them, your body was aching and you were ready to give up. Then a voice sounded through the earpiece. “Pietro’s down” Clint said. It was the push you needed. You screamed as you used wave after wave to destroy anything that got in your path.

You remembered sitting in the hospital, watching Pietro as he lay motionless in the bed. He was hooked up to all types of machines, you just hoped that they would be able to save him. Wanda had often sat with you holding one hand and you hold his other. Steve had tried to get you to move, even Tony had tried, but you still refused to leave his side. Your response would always be the same, “I want to be there when he wakes up”. 

Keep reading

Here Comes Trouble

Intense, that’s what I’d call it. If I had to pick a word, really.

      Sure. Intense.

      Just thinking about it makes me want a cigarette. And I’ve never smoked in my eithgtteen years of life. It would just feel… right? Hell, if she’d asked me to, I would have lit up a whole pack. She had me exactly where she wanted me.

      She still does.

      She’s the girl I can’t have, the girl I shouldn’t want, you know? I mean, everybody wants her, but they just shouldn’t. Especially since she dates my friend.

      Lucky prick.

      Fortunately enough, I heard through the grapevine that she was getting tired of fucking him, and that’s how it all began.

      It was raining outside, and Lil Twist’s favorite thing to do on rainy summer nights is throw parties at the brand new mansion they own together. Calls were made, catering was ordered, and alcohol was stockpiled in the fridge. Before long, every close friend of our family surrounded me and I was feeling so good, I was tempted to take a lap around what had become the dance floor.

      You’re right, there were shots involved. And it helped that, on said dance floor, she was moving like I’ve never seen her move before.

      Oh, I had heard about it, sure. More than I care to remember, honestly.

      There would be lunches where Lil Twist couldn't stop reminiscing about their bedtime romps and breaks where he would go on and on about their mid-morning wake-up calls. I knew all her tricks, and I knew she played dirty, but hearing it only made me more desperate to feel it.

      And whenever I got the chance to see her body snaking around like it was that wonderful night, nothing could pull me away.

      That night, in fact, something pulled me in. And who was I to say no?

      She saw me watching her as her hips swayed from side to side, matching the rhythm of the thick hip-hop bass. I lifted my longneck to my lips before taking a swig, hoping the cold beer would cool off my flushing cheeks.

      I must have looked like such a loser.

      Clearing my throat, I looked down at the lion on the label, wishing I could be more aggressive.

      Like my friend.

      As the thought flashed through my mind, I lifted my gaze to find my hauntings happening in front of me. Lil Twist had an arm dangling over her shoulder and down across her chest, anchoring her against his body while he rocked it in time with hers. Her smile hinted to the secrets they shared together, a lot sensual and a little bit sideways. Her delicate hands rested on her upper thighs, pressing her back into an arch as her rear caressed him.


      If there was one thing I hated more than not being with her, it was being jealous of my friend.

      I guess you could say it was then that I lost every ounce of decency. Yeah, I suppose that’s legit. After all, I’m not good with competition.

      Her eyes locked with mine, and my whole body quivered. I can still feel the chills. She winked at me before leaning her head on Lil Twist’s shoulder, letting his lips fall against her own. I saw her take his hand, leading him out of the gyrating mass of people and into the kitchen. I leaned back against the cool leather of the couch, stretching to see through the short hallway to where they were standing.

      “Come on, Justin,” she yelled over the thumping speakers, “Do a shot with us!”

      I struggled with my instincts to vault off the couch and, instead, rose steadily, downing the rest of my beer as I made my way into the kitchen. She must have liked the way it looked, because her eyes changed, you know? Like when a girl goes from indifferent to interested.

      Shut up.

      “Pick your poison, Justin,” she growled, Lil Twist’s lips leaving temporary red splotches on her neck as she spoke, “No chasers.”

      My eyes locked on hers, I pointed at an unknown bottle to my left, not knowing nor caring what it was. She seemed impressed.

      Hey, at least it looked cool.

      She poured some into a tiny glass and handed it to me, giggling as Lil Twist nibbled on her ear.

      If my friend could stop being an asshole for just three seconds, I’m completely sure the world would stop turning.

      “Lil Twist,” she whined, tugging his arm further around her waist as she handed him his shot.

      “Pauline,” he mocked her, squeezing her sides and making her squirm flirtatiously.

      I heard a male voice count us down, and I wondered who it was, but I couldn’t shake myself out of my daze. I watched her as she tossed her head back, swallowing the liquid in a swift gulp, before slamming the glass back to the table and taking a breath through a smile. It never even hit her. At least, not visibly.

      Damn, she was trouble if I ever saw it.

      She looked me up and down, glaring at the full shot still within my grasp.

      “Keep up, or pass it down,” she demanded, reaching for the tiny green glass.

      I loved the way her eyebrow arched as I pulled it just out of her reach, flashing her a wait-a-second smirk. I was going to regret this.

      I lifted it to my mouth, letting the liquid splash onto my tongue. I savored the burning sensation for a moment before finally swallowing, and when my eyes met hers once again, she was as close as she had ever come to being in awe.

      “Well, aren’t we ambitious tonight?” she teased me, snatching at the glass and failing once more.

      I clicked my tongue at her in a scolding fashion before pouring myself another one and repeating the process once more. The freezing-hot liquid scalded my throat, but the only thing I felt was pleasure. I found her gaze again, and this time, she was biting her lip.

      I win.

      I looked at Lil Twist, who was busy rummaging through the cabinets for more margarita mix.

      Why the hell wasn’t he watching? It never failed.

      My head was clear and fuzzy all at the same time, and I was fairly sure I was hallucinating as I felt a hand on my chest.

      “Impressive,” she breathed, running a fingertip along the collar of my shirt, letting it slide over the first few shiny white buttons, “Didn’t know you had it in you, Bieber.”

      “Just one of many hidden talents, I guess,” I sighed, shrugging as I tried to ignore the chills she was giving me.

      After that line, I was impressed with myself, too.

      She arched an eyebrow at me and I watched as she glanced over her shoulder, biting that lip again.

      Fuck my life.

      As she examined my friend and his current situation, I couldn’t help but let my eyes fall to her chest. I had enough alcohol in me to wipe away most of my tact, and I wasn’t concerned that I was staring. At all.

      My eyes traced her curves, suddenly distracted as I remembered her hand resting on my abs, still lightly clutching my shirt. I liked the way that looked almost as much, causing me to think about her grasping it harder and pulling until the buttons gave and the seams split.


      “Baby, I don’t feel good,” she complained, letting go of me and pulling Lil Twist into her as he walked by with a fresh fifth of Grey Goose for the crowd, “I think I’m going to go upstairs for a few, lay down for a minute and get out of this smoke and music.”


      “Should I come with?” he asked, snaking an arm around her small waist and pressing his forehead to hers.

      He’s repulsive. Just saying.

      “No, I’ll be okay,” she assured him, letting a finger trail across his bottom lip before leaning in to kiss it, “You just enjoy the party.”

      “Okay,” he agreed, embracing her kiss and pushing back against it in the most painstakingly sensual way, “Come get me if you need me. I’ll be right downstairs.”

      “I know you will, baby,” she replied, smiling as he let her go and lifted the bottle, displaying it to a circle of friends he was walking towards.

      She turned back towards me and I froze.

      Her eyes were narrowed but bold, and they pierced through my own like nothing I had ever felt before. I knew in an instant that she had lied to his face, as if I hadn’t already suspected it, but now I also knew why.

      And as much as I wanted to let her tell me, my conscience couldn’t let me do that to my friend.

      “So, Justin,” she purred, returning her hand to my shirt and skillfully sliding one random button in and out of its hole, “Care to walk me upstairs?”

      “Pour me another shot,” I demanded, watching her smirk as I tossed my fucking conscience to the wind.

      She handed me the tiny glass and I took the liquid in a quick gulp, keeping my eyes closed as it set my entire body on fire. The alcohol wasn’t taking its time and my mind was losing the battle and fast. Sure, Lil Twist’s a good guy, but I was faced with a decision that would solve more problems than it would create, and that sounded like good odds to the man with three shots, a few beers, and a couple unsatisfied needs coursing through his veins.

      Her fingers had left my button undone and were slowly falling towards my waistline. I opened my eyes to find hers wide open, her brown hair falling wild around her shoulders and her pointer hooking itself around one of my belt loops. She tugged me behind her as she led the way to the staircase, abruptly letting go and leaning back as I crashed into her from behind. As my hands accidently found their way to her waist to soften the blow, I groggily followed her gaze to Lil Twist, who was doing shotguns with his friends in the corner.

      I felt the pang of guilt that I knew I should, but the alcohol numbed my reaction to it. She continued up the stairs, her stilettos making her hips sway side to side with each step. Any trace of remorse that I had been feeling was immediately wiped away and I cracked my neck with anticipation, taking steps two at a time to catch up.

      Sorry, Lil Twist.

      I lost her as she turned down a hallway, and when I reached it, she was gone. I ran a hand through my hair before venturing down the row of doors, hoping to see one wide open. I passed what I knew was their bedroom, and before I could even notice that it was cracked, the door flung open and a small but forceful hand had grabbed my arm, yanking me inside.

      I stumbled into the dark, hearing the door slam and feeling it hard against my back as I was shoved into it.

      Her body radiated a ridiculous heat that penetrated my clothes and warmed my skin. She was pressed against me, and I could feel an ideal mix of pain and pleasure as my jeans bulged at a constant rate.

      “I see the way you look at me, Justin,” she growled, letting her lips dance along my jaw as she spoke, “I know what you want. And you do, too, isn’t that right?”

      I could only nod as she finished unbuttoning my shirt, my eyes becoming adjusted to the darkness and allowing me to see her eager face. Her hands slid up my chest and over my shoulders, pushing my sleeves down over my arms. The garment fell to the floor and it was only seconds before my white undershirt joined it, courtesy of Pauline. My back felt the door in a whole new way, the cold surface sending goosebumps up and down my undeniably warm skin.

      I wanted more than anything to repeat the process with her clothing, but I was totally and completely immobile. She had rocked me to my core, and with the alcohol slowing my reaction time, I had no hope of playing this cool.

      Lucky for me, she didn’t show signs of intimidation.

      I felt her lips brush my collarbone and my hips bucked at hers as if through a reflex. She giggled and it pushed my thoughts to ones of me throwing her down on their big king-sized bed and ravaging her bra and panty-clad body with hungry lips.

      I silently prayed she shared that vision, because in the state I was in, I’d never be able to initiate it.

      “Tell me what he’s told you, Justin,” she ordered as her tongue teased my earlobe, “Tell me all the wild and dirty things you’ve heard about my sex life.”

      Just hearing that three-letter word come out of her mouth pushed my limits.

      “Uh, well, um,” I stuttered, watching as she kissed her way down over my abs, her hands grasping my waist as her ass hovered just above her heels, “I don’t really, um…”

      “Don’t act like you don’t listen when he tells those stories,” she scoffed, her voice scolding and sexy as she rose back up to face me, “I know you’ve taken them home with you and put yourself in your friend’s shoes.”

      “Well, I…”

      “Tell me your favorite one, Justin,” she commanded, the ring inside her hazel eyes glowing redder than usual, “Which one gets you off at night?”

      I remember having to blink a few times as the looming thought of this not being real invaded my head. I had only imagined what it would be like, she was right, and now I was here, able to fulfill any one of my fantasies with her.

      “I like it when you beg,” I told her, unable to believe they were my words in my voice, coming from my mouth.

      “There’s a start,” she mumbled, her mouth finding mine and slurring the last word as our lips crashed into one another.

      She tasted like tequila, salt, and strawberries, and wanting more, my tongue pressed at her bottom lip, asking her to let it inside. Hers moved in such a delicate way, and as mine darted around like a hose with no-one to hold it, hers rubbed mine in ways that sent shivers down my spine. As I left her mouth, her lips sucked on the tip of my tongue, causing me to hold her impossibly hard against my body.

      We hadn’t even gotten completely undressed and already, she was blowing my mind with raunchy little tricks I didn’t know existed.

      “What do you want me to beg for, baby,” she breathed, placing teasing kisses on my lips and smirking when I tried to lengthen them.

      “Anything,” I muttered, weaving my hand behind her neck and pulling her into an impatient kiss.

      She moaned into my mouth and I honestly thought I was going to lose it.

      Pulling away, she pushed herself off me with a hand on my chest and shook a finger at me.

      “Tisk, tisk,” she whispered, turning her back on me and beginning to pull up on the hem of her skirt, “You have to make me wait, remember?”

      I shoved my tongue into my cheek and inhaled a deep, shaking breath. I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to make it.

      The red dress wrinkled around her thighs and I lost her gaze as she faced the other way, pulling her tousled brown hair to one side. She didn’t need to ask. I obediently tugged on the zipper of her dress, dragging it all the way down. Still silent, I followed her as she sauntered off towards the bed, not turning to face me until she had reached it.

      “Tell me more of the story,” she continued, fingering the thin, red strap across her shoulder, “Tell me what he told you.”

      “Um, Lil Twist told us once about, uh, you begging,” I paused, trying to gain the courage to say something I knew sounded so risqué.

      “Mmhmm,” she encouraged, her voice even and her eyes full of excitement.

      “Well, he said you, uh, got on your knees and,” I stopped short, squeezing my eyes shut and mentally taking a leap off the deep end, “He said you got down on your knees and begged him to let you taste him.”

      “That turns you on to no end, doesn’t it, Justin,” she stated more than asked, watching me nod and pulling the strap further down her arm, “No other girl has ever done that for you?”

      I shook my head, unable to look away as she inched herself out of her dress and kicked it to the side. Her white panties and matching lace bra screamed at me, a color so pure in a format so sinful.

      “These look really tight,” she told me, eyeing my lower half and yanking me closer by the buckle on my belt, “So uncomfortable.”

      “They are,” I breathed, swallowing hard as she loosed every hold my jeans had.

      She wrapped her fingers around the denim of my pants and the elastic of my boxer briefs before slowly and surely pulling both down. The friction it caused against my shaft was almost too much and my fists clenched to save me time and pride.

      She hummed a low moan as she saw me for the first time, her knees hitting the floor, followed shortly by my jeans.

      “You don’t have to-”

      “You look so good right now,” she told me, fully aware of my desires and planning on fulfilling them, “Just like I’ve always imagined.”

      “You, uh…” I breathed, trying to remember to blink as I watched her wrap her hand around my length, “You imagine us together?”

      “Oh, all the time,” she assured me, almost making my knees buckle as her fingertips traced it, “Can I tell you a secret?”

      Oh my God.

      “Yeah,” I exhaled, feeling her thumb slide from the base to the head.

      “Sure, I’ve always wanted to see you, and feel you, but…”

      Holy shit.

      “What I really want is to taste you.”

      I swallowed hard enough to put a hole in my throat, and I couldn’t help but grip the dresser to keep my balance.

      “Come on, Justin, please?” she pressed, running manicured nails along my lower abs, “Just let me taste you, just once. I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

      As I gained enough strength to look down at her pleading face, I gave in. My fingers weaved their way into her brown waves and without me having to try, she took me in her mouth, satisfying both our needs immediately.

      “Fuck,” was all I could manage, my eyes rolling back at the warm, wet sensations I had been literally dying to feel.

      Her tongue swirled around my cock as she bobbed up and down on it, and I remembered hearing about such a trick from my clueless friend, only intensifying my pleasure. I groaned as her hand joined her lips, sending a batch of new vibrations coursing through my body. She must have felt my already rock-hard shaft tighten as I felt myself getting closer to the edge, and my head snapped up at the loss of warmth from her mouth. She had pulled away, and as my vision became clearer, I noticed her inching backwards onto the bed. I followed without being told, kicking to the side the bundle of clothing at my feet.

      “One down,” she growled, letting one bra strap slide off her shoulder, “What other stories do you have for me, Justin?”

      “There’s so many,” I blurted, completely flustered as she motioned for me to lay with her.

      I crawled towards her, hovering as she spread her legs for me to kneel between.

      “Just name one,” she ordered, leaning forward to lay a soft and ridiculously short kiss on my lips.

      “I can’t,” I mumbled, burying my face in her neck as I sucked the soft skin there.

      “Sure you can,” she encouraged, pushing me away playfully as she fiddled with her bra clasps with a free hand, “Do any of them involve these?”

      She flicked the bra to the side and revealed her breasts to me, unashamed, and it was mere seconds before I let my mouth devour one of the pert nipples in front of me. I guess it was a good answer, because her hips bucked at mine and her fingers found my curls effortlessly. A strained moan echoed through the room and I smiled against her taut skin, letting my tongue tease her more. My breath only made her nipple harder, and as I returned to sucking on it, I noticed her free hand had found the other one, allowing her fingers to work it to a seemingly satisfying extent.

      “I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” she confessed, her voice fragile and desperate for once, “I’ve wanted you for too long, Justin.”

      I paused for just a moment, hoping to witness the distress and longing in her eyes that I’ve always had in mine. I wanted to watch her almost quiver with need.

      I got what I wanted.

      Her eyes blazed and she pressed her lips to mine recklessly, and I felt her dominance return.

      “One last fantasy, Justin,” she breathed, pulling away and grabbing for my hands, “One last chance to get what you want from me.”

      She lead me to her panties, expectantly waiting as I pulled them down and off, tossing them over my shoulder.

      “Lil Twist used to tell me how you liked it the most,” I explained, letting my hands wander back up her smooth legs, “He said you would usually be down for anything, but one position drove you wild.”

      I watched her eyes light up as I rubbed her supple thigh, sliding my hand under and lifting up her long, tan leg. My hands slid gently down past her knee and onto her calf, setting her ankle on my shoulder and positioning myself above her ready entrance. My free hand ran up and down her side, rubbing her hip, before becoming the support for most of my weight. As I hovered over her, I turned my head to the side, kissing her calf gently and watching as she bit her lip. Her other leg wrapped around my waist and with that, I plunged inside her.

      “Justin,” she gasped, her hand clenching the sheets in a tight ball.

      My solid shaft explored every inch of her as I pressed my body against hers, my hand gripping her thigh and holding it to my chest. I couldn’t get any deeper, and the hot wetness that surrounded my cock made it hard to keep my eyes open.

      But I had to watch her.

      I saw her mouth “fuck,” seemingly unable to elicit any actual noise, as my pace increased. Her fingers found her nipple again and I licked my lips as it teased the oversensitive nub to an even harder state. I ducked down, taking the other in my mouth as sound seemingly returned to her.

      “Oh my God,” she muttered, her hips arching to meet me with every thrust.

      “Is this how he does it, Pauline?” I growled, driving myself harder inside her.

      She merely shook her head ‘no,’ unable to stop biting her lip as I lowered my angle and managed an impossibly deeper stroke.

      “Feels so fucking good,” I uttered, sliding my hand from her thigh to her ass and gripping firmly.

      She moaned in response, pressing her head back into the pillow it rested on, exposing her neck that I eagerly bit down on. Her hips rocked harder against me as I did, and I felt my inner animal escape me. My teeth felt so good on her skin and if it made her buck like that, I would never stop.

      “I’m close,” she whispered, as I felt her walls clench around me, “Fuck, I’m close.”

      “Just,” I paused, speeding up and almost losing myself in the process, “Wait. Not yet.”

      I forced my eyes open and her eyes pierced mine, right before they fluttered closed and I got to see her bite that goddamn lip one more time. I licked my own lips and watched her entire body shake with her release, feeling mine right behind her. Her hips rose to mine, trembling, as her body convulsed with her climax. A moan I hadn’t heard before escaped her, my name following shortly after.

      “Pauline,” I called, my voice deep and foreign to my own ears.

      I felt every nerve in me explode as my length plunged as far inside her wet walls as it could go, hitting my peak and releasing it. I concentrated every last bit of strength into my supporting arm as my own body shuddered with my climax, grunts and groans making their way out of my lips.

      “Justin,” she breathed, her voice hollow and tired, clearly not expecting a response.

      I guess she just wanted to say it. And I certainly wasn’t going to stop her.

Never Again We’ll Part

Dean sat by the small wooden table at their apartment, his back turned to the glass wall, which you could see half of the town through.

By the other side of the table sat Cas. Their hands were stretched and entwined, resting on the table. Plates full of untouched food were put next to their hands. They looked at each other, their stares deadpan.

It was the end of the world.

They’d tried to stop it for months; week after week, sleeping less than a couple of hours every day, they’d done everything they could to stop the apocalypse. But here they were, just a few minutes apart from it.

Sam wanted to fly over, be with his brother while it happened, but Jess couldn’t fly at a stage so late of her pregnancy, so they stayed home at Lawrence.

She was supposed to give birth just a few weeks from now.

They will never see their child.

Out of the silence, Dean’s chair suddenly dragged against the floor noisily. He stood up, his hand breaking apart from Cas’, and turned to the speakers that stood on a counter against the wall beside them.

He took his phone out of his pocket and connected it to the speakers, and after a short moment of searching on his music library the opening sounds of a song filled the air.

Cas’ head snapped up.

“That’s my favorite song,” he noted, eyebrows furrowed.

“I know.” Dean’s lips rose to a crooked smile and he walked back to the table and offered Cas his hand. “Dance with me?”

Cas hesitated, but after a second he took Dean’s hand and stood up.

Their bodies pressed against one another as they swayed slowly in the darkening room, their motions completely unsynced with the beat of the music.

“Are you afraid?” Cas whispered in Dean’s ear suddenly.

“Not really,” Dean mumbled, staring into the horizon through the glass wall. “I’ve pretty much died in every way imaginable.”

His stare became glazed, and he ducked his head and pressed his forehead onto Cas’ shoulder.

“I’m just sad,” he admitted in a croaked voice. “I wish I could have one more moment with you - with Sam, with Charlie… with everyone.” His eyes were wet now, and Cas’ fingers stroked his neck.

“It’s alright,“ Cas reassured him. "Shh. It’s okay. It’s okay to cry.”

He raised his head and rested his chin on Cas’ shoulder, feeling Cas’ fingers on the nape of his neck.

“Why the Bee Gees? Why is this your favorite song?” he asked, trying to distract himself. The song was ending now, its last notes clinging in the air. He tried to ignore the irony in its lyrics.

“I don’t know,” Cas said, pondering. “There is something about Staying Alive that I am very fond of.”

Dean snorted through the wetness in his eyes. His hands were rubbing Cas’ back gently as No. 1 Party Anthem started playing, matching their slow swaying better than the last song.

“It’s the worst song ever. It’s horrible.” His chin went up and down as Cas shrugged.

They stood in the middle of the room for a few moments silent other than the soft sounds of the music, their hands moving restlessly on each other, brushing up backs, resting against necks, touching cheeks.

At last, Dean froze and his shoulders tensed. On the horizon, approaching slowly, a huge explosion of fire and smoke came into sight. It was the biggest, most terrifying thing Dean has ever seen, covering and eating up the earth as easily as a whale swallowing water.

“Don’t look back,” Dean whispered, his voice breaking, eyes staring at the blast. Cas swallowed and started turning his head around, but Dean’s eyes moved to meet his and his hands shot up and grasped Cas’ face, preventing him from moving.


Cas swallowed again and nodded.

Dean watched Cas’ eyes close slowly as the explosion progressed slowly toward them in the background.

“Dean, I’m afraid,” Cas whispered and his forehead creased, like it was crouching under the pressure of his emotions.

“It’s alright.” Dean brushed his thumb in circles on his cheek. Cas never feared death before, but this time was different. There was no higher purpose, no noble cause.

They were simply afraid.

They were simply sad.

And they were simply dying.

“At least we’re together,” Dean mumbled. Cas agreed.

“The look of love, the rush of blood, the ‘she’s with me’…” the music faded abruptly, at the same time the lights shut off.

Their eyes shot up and their stares collided; the explosion reached the electricity in their area. It won’t take long now.

“I love you,” Dean said suddenly, his green eyes looking into Cas’. He hadn’t had the courage to say it since the first time, a few weeks ago, but this time it was now or never - literally.

“I love you,” Cas repeated hotly, in a sudden intensity he rarely used. And then it happened.

It was very fast, only a couple of seconds long.

Cas heard the glass shatter behind him, and a rapid fear went through him that he’ll never kiss Dean again. Almost out of instinct, his head shot up, and his lips pressed forcefully onto Dean’s.

With their bodies pressed together, their arms wrapped around each other and their lips collided, the blast hit them and threw them away from the floor.

Their bodies never reached the ground again. They burned and melted in the air.


Here you can find an extremely beautiful song by I_am_the_Queen inspired by this fanfic (on ao3). thanks for reading~