#It doesn’t seem to show up in the tags...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wanderlust 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, kidnap, size difference/kink, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You go travelling to get some world experience but you don't get the one you're expecting.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Bucky Barnes (reader in 30s, short!)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You’re not afraid of flying, just not a fan of travel. It would be nice to go out and do more but the reality of getting there often deters you. Not this time. You finally bit the bullet and bought the ticket. 

Thirty isn’t old. You know that but it feels like a good time to start doing things. Your twenties went fast in hindsight, even if they felt like a slog. Miserable, emotional, and near disastrous. 

You have your first steady job, bills aren’t tight enough to strangle you, and it’s about time you did something just for you. Everyone is obsessed with ‘self-care’. Are you finally on trend? 

You shuffle along with the slow trawl of passengers. You look for your seat by the number on your ticket, holding up your phone awkwardly to compare. Your compact suitcase hangs from your vice grip as you haul it along, the wheels hitting your heel. 

You stop as you find your assigned seat. Hm. Middle seat. Headphones on and you’ll be fine, you’re sure. You reach up to open the overhead, just barely able to pop it open. 

Your carryon threatens to slide off your arm. You ignore it and bend to grab your suitcase. You watched a bunch of tutorials on how not to overpack. As you grip it, your bag slips down your arm and you lift the suitcase overhead. You hit the edge and it bounces back, nearly landing on your head. 

You brace for impact. The weight lightens in your grasp. A man grunts as you look up and see a large hand hooked on your bag. A pinky ring shines back at you. 

“Careful,” he warns. “Here, let me get it.” 

He uses his other hand to push it up and slides it out of your grip into the compartment. You watch, embarrassed. You can try to do things yourself but you still end up in the way. 

“Thanks, uh, sorry.” You eke out. 

You turn and sidle into the row of seat. You cradle your carryon as you do. You sit and hug it as you wait for the man to pass. He doesn’t. He follows. 

“I’m in the window.” He points casually. 

“Oh? Uh... my bad.” You flatten yourself as he turns and he brushes against the seat in front of you to get past. Unlike you, he’s too big for the cramped coach row. 

He sighs as he sits down. He shifts around as he gets comfortable. He flips up the window cover and rolls his head so his neck cracks. He pushes his feet out as far as they can go. 

He must be a frequent flyer. He seems perfectly at ease. Meanwhile, you’re twenty steps ahead in your mind.  

You need the flight to land, then you need to get your bag back. You don’t expect getting it down to be any easier. Then you have get through the airport, show your passport, and fine a taxi. Then the hotel, unpack, review itinerary for tomorrow. 

The more you think about it, it doesn’t seem so fun. Sure, you’ll get to see all sorts of cool things, but that’s only if you don’t get lost. You wiggle your foot nervously and put your elbow on the armrest, only to hit that of your seat neighbour. You apologise and let your arm hang at your side. 

“No problem,” his silty tone tickles your ears. “You scared of flying?” 

“Huh?” You look at him and follow his own gaze to your foot. You still it. “No, just... travelling is stressful. I’ll try not to bother too much.” 

You put your hands on your knees, as if holding yourself still. 

“Isn’t it?” He chuckles. “Can’t make anything easy these days.” 

“Mhmm,” you nod. You’re not the greatest with strangers either. Thirty years old and you’re still just as clueless as you were a decade ago. 

“Nick,” he says.  

You flinch as you see something at the edge of your vision. He offers his hand. You stare at it before you shake it. You’ve never been one for the outdated gesture but you’re too meek to refuse it. 

You shake his hand and give your own name. He grins and you turn your head straight. He’s not a bad looking guy but you shouldn’t think about it. He’s older. You can just tell. Not just the crinkles beside his eyes or the light lines in his forehead, it’s his confidence. Maybe this trip can help you find your own. 

“Pretty,” he says. “What’s in New York?” 

You hesitate before you understand his question. You sniff and fidget. “I’m a tourist. Just wanna see some historical stuff. Brooklyn Bridge, an old jazz bar... “ 

“Huh. All alone?” He wonders. 

You open your mouth to answer then pause. “Meeting friends,” you utter cautiously. 

“Girls’ trip. Fun,” he says. “Business. Again. Always got me back and forth.” 

He leans on the armrest and pushes his shoulders back into the seat. His knee breaks the boundary of your seats, pressing against your own. You try not to pull away too obviously. 

The overhead snaps shut and startles you. Another man drops into the seat on your other side. He huffs as he sits. He’s as big as your other neighbour, maybe a bit thicker. 

Where Nick has short tidy hair and subtle shadow of stubble coming through, this man has a thick beard and hair to his shoulders, there's some silver woven into both. He looks agitated as his cheek ticks and a woman’s bag nearly hits him. He swats the D&G luggage out of his face and growls. 

Your foot begins to go again. You only realise as the man sighs again. You cross your ankles and shrink down. 

Another bag comes close to the aisle passengers face and he grits, “watch it.” 

Nick snickers. The man slowly turns his head, eyes drifting over darkly. You glance between them, then to the back of the seat ahead of you. 

“Wanna switch?” Nick offers. 

The other man puffs through his nose, “don’t bother.” 

“Well, let me know.” Nick says coolly. “We were just sharing out gripes about travelling. Fun, isn’t it?” 

The man in the aisle seat curls his lip, “I guess.” He curls a finger and pushes down with his thumb until his knuckle cracks. “You too on a honeymoon or something?” 

Nick laughs, you look at him in shock. 

“Just met. Solo riders.” Nick answers. You’ll let him do the talking. 

The other man clucks. Nick reaches across you. “Nick.” 

His hand is ignored. He retracts it with a soft scoff. Nick introduces you next. The other man exhales loudly. 

“Bucky,” he says. “Keep the lights off and the noise down.” 

He leans back, his arm thick enough that it fills more than the armrest. He pushes his shoulders wide and leans his head back. He closes his eyes and you flick your thumbs nervously. 

You unzip your bag and search for your headphones. The aisles empty out and the attendants begin their pre-flight routine. As the plane thrums, the safety presentation begins. You keep your headphones around your neck. 

You buckle in, Nick does too. Bucky does it without opening his eyes. You shift and wait for takeoff. 

“Wanna look out the window as we lift off?” Nick offers. “You can lean over me.” 

“All good.” You assure him. “Thanks. 

“I don’t mind,” he says. 

“Really, it’s fine.” 

A low rumble comes from your other side. You seal your lips and push the button on your headphones. You go to lift them over your ears. 

“You listen to music or podcasts?” Nick asks before you can put them on. 

You lower them down, keeping your hands on them. “Music.” You answer quietly, mindful of the man on your other side. 

“Oh? Let me guess, Olivia Rodrigo?” He suggests. 

You shrug and shake your head, “never heard of them.” 

He snorts, “really? Hm. You look young, I thought...” 

“Just old stuff,” you answer. “Patsy Cline and whatever... boring.” 

“Boring? I don’t think so,” he muses. “All those pop stars come off the conveyor belt these days. Nothing wrong with taste.” 

You give a sheepish smile and lift your headphones again. You put them on then turn forward. You scroll your phone for your ‘most played’ playlist. You tap shuffle and sit back. 

Nick sits calm and still. He doesn’t take out his phone or try to play around with the screen in front of him. He just watches the clouds as you reach cruising height. 

Bucky is still. By the measure of the breath, you think he’s sleeping. You wonder how as you every now and then you can hear the squeal of a toddler through your music. 

The snack cart comes by. None of you get anything; Bucky doesn’t stir at all. 

Your leg sways back and forth as the flight stretches on. You check the time over and over. You knee hits Bucky’s leg as your nerves bubble. You push your legs together and peek over at him. He opens one eye; you mouth ‘sorry’. 

You chew your lip. You bite down until it hurts. The hours unfurl torturously. This is what you hate. Spending all that money to sit in a seat, overcrowded and impatient. 

The seatbelt sign flips on again. You take off your headphones as the Captain announces landing over the PA. You put them away in your carry-on and wrap your arms around the bag. 

The plane touches down with a jolt. You squeak and Nick wraps his warm hand around your wrist. You glance at him. He’s just being nice. 

“I’m okay,” you insist. 

Once the wheels stop, the restless passengers begin to disembark. Bucky is up and off, shoving past those struggling to get their bags. He’s at the front without obstacle. 

Patiently, you stand and watch your fellow travellers. Nick looms behind you. You crane around to see him. 

“I’m just waiting,” you say. 

“No problem. I’m patient.” He waves you off. “So,” he grips the seat by you. He’s close enough you can smell his cologne. “Where are you staying? East side? Uptown?” 

“Um... I’m not sure exactly. I don’t really know the city.” 

“Big place,” he comments. “Transits not too bad though. Just don’t make eye contact.” 

You nod. You’re already nervous enough. You heard all the horror stories from your mother and the headlines. 

As the aisle clears, you step out and turn to open the overhead. Nick gets it first. He takes down your bag for you. You thank him. 

You turn down the aisle as he shuts the compartment. He travels light. Or he checked his luggage. He has nothing but himself. 

You wait through the tedious disembarking and exhale deeply as you get to the ramp. Inside the airport, you follow the tides to the gates. The people disburse as you find a quiet place to order a taxi. 

“Hey,” Nick startles you as he struts across the terminal. “You looking for a cab?” 

“Oh, uh...” you lower your phone as your data won’t respond and you can’t sign into the airport WiFi. “I was just...” 

“Come on. I’ll help you flag one down the old-fashioned way. Gonna need one myself.” He insists. 

“Oh, you don’t have to--” 

“Hey, it’s no worries. You’re gonna wanna snag one before the next arrival,” he grabs your bag and extends the handle. “Come on.” 

He rolls your bag behind him as he marches away. He’s helpful if not a bit forward. You scurry after him. 

“Uh, thanks. I appreciate it.” 

“You kidding me? This place is like a city of its own. Can be overwhelming. You said you hate travelling. If I can make it easier, eh, why not?” 

You come out through the automatic doors and he slows to scan the long line of taxis and the clogged traffic of those trying to leave.  

“I got a trick, come on,” he beckons you behind him and you follow. 

“I can take my bag,” you offer. 

“Don’t worry, honey,” he carries on. “Let’s find...”  

He raises his hand to hail one of the cabs into an empty space along the curb. You look up as his fingers move but stop before you can make out the signal. Strange. 

“There we go,” he proclaims. 

A black car pulls in and the trunk pops. You frown. That doesn’t look like a cab. He puts your bag in the back and shuts the lid. You stay on the pavement. 

“Um, Nick, I think--” You stare at the tinted windows. 

He nears and puts his hand on your arm. “Stop doing that,” he pushes his jacket open with his other hand and grips the gun holstered on his belt. “Get in.” 

[steddieas-shegoes]

drama

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'selling the drama'

rated t | 769 words | no cw | tags: band manager steve, friendship, established steddie

also on ao3

🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱

Gareth rolls onto his stomach and sighs.

Jeff does the same.

Eddie, somehow, is the one who calls them out.

“Are you guys done being dramatic?”

Frankie rolls his eyes, smirking at what he already knows is going to become a dramatic soliloquy from one or both of them. Eddie’s almost certainly going to join in despite the fact he called them out on the dramatics.

“Sorry for being bored, Edward!” Gareth exclaims. “Sorry that we cannot find any entertainment on this tour bus. I’m sorry you have to put up with us in this phase of our lives. How dare we feel boredom in your presence. How dare we not know what we want to do while stuck on this dreaded twelve hour drive. How-”

“How about you all play cards?” Steve suggests with a lollipop hanging from his mouth. He’s trying to quit smoking and so far only lollipops seem to be a good replacement. His lips and tongue are constantly red or blue and Eddie is constantly distracted. “I’ll move.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Eddie says, pulling Steve into his lap. Steve offers him his lollipop, but Eddie just kisses his lips instead. No one blinks an eye. It’s not even close to the grossest thing they’ve done in front of them. Frankie’s actually pretty sure they’ve fucked on the couch while they were all watching a movie. “I don’t wanna play cards. We did that yesterday.”

“Today’s a new day,” Frankie says as he gets up to get their deck of cards. They are technically due for another campaign night, but Eddie’s having trouble with some of the plot development and refuses to move forward until he figures it out. “We could play war or hearts?”

“Children’s games,” Jeff sighs. “We aren’t children.”

“You’re acting like children,” Steve says what Frankie’s thinking.

He used to hate that he had so much in common with Steve, especially when he started dating Eddie and he was around all the time. They didn’t get along for months until Frankie got his heart broken in a city he’d never been to before and Steve was the only one who didn’t make fun of him for being upset. He brought him to a 24 hour diner after their show while everyone else went to their hotel and they talked about expectations on the road and for the future. Now they make it a weekly thing, whenever they’re in a city that has a diner they can go to reasonably unnoticed, they do.

“Last time we played war, Eddie almost threw Gareth off the bus,” Jeff says.

Which is true, and probably why they shouldn’t play that game while in motion.

“Go Fish?” Steve suggests, still sucking on the lollipop.

Eddie’s watching him, mouth open, eyes glazed over. Gareth smacks him in the face.

“Focus dude,” he says. “Can we place bets?”

“On Go Fish?” Frankie asks.

“To make it more fun.”

He shares a look with Steve. They both know this is a terrible idea, but if it will end the dramatics of their boredom, it might be worth it.

“Fine. No booze or girls.” Steve points at Gareth to emphasize. “And that includes whatever underwear gets left behind during your little sexual exploration phase.”

“Whatever,” Gareth rolls his eyes. “Bet $10 I win the first round in three turns.”

“I’ll bet $20 I win in two,” Jeff pipes in.

“I’ll bet use of the big bed for one night I win in three right before Gareth would’ve gone out,” Eddie says.

Steve slaps him. “Don’t offer our bed.”

“Two nights in the big bed!” Eddie ignores him.

Frankie shakes his head. “One pack of cigs and my signed Metallica poster says I win in four rounds and you all get mad enough to stop playing.”

Steve high-fives him.

Frankie doesn’t even smoke, never has, never will, but they’ll all be miserable if Steve doesn’t get to sleep in his bed. Now no one will want to beat him. He’ll grab a pack from Steve’s secret emergency stash.

They end up being distracted by more absurd bets for the next two hours. Steve eventually loses interest and goes to find another lollipop and take a nap because his job starts the moment they arrive at the venue.

Well, technically his job never really stops, which is why he’s never really bored.

Frankie watches him walk back to his bed, closing the curtain behind him. It won’t mask much of the noise, but he won’t have to witness the dramatic slap fight happening between Gareth and Eddie with his eyes.

[itszomo]

ᯓ★ TEACH ME HOW TO SCREAM, BABY ! ⩩ —

ᯓ★. you were just contributing to the trend — you definitely weren’t waiting for your boyfriend’s reaction to it. nope. not at all.

TAGS: 0.9k words, requested!, established relationships, fem/afab!reader, thirst traps, teasing, small bit of jealousy (in jinu’s), some language, references to boners, the saja boys are just down bad for you <3

A/N: my first nonnie request! thank you so much for sending it in sweetie, i absolutely loved it!! <3 i’ll admit i had to do a bit of research (i don’t own tiktok lol) and i hope i did okay on this! thank you so much for reading! <3

TAGLIST: @mysteris-things @haloangelfics — <3

ᯓ★ MYSTERY. ⩩

when mystery sees it, he’s sitting right beside you on your plush couch, scrolling mindlessly as you struggled to pick something to watch.

he almost skipped the tiktok out of instinct — thirst traps popped up on his feed a lot, and he didn’t like viewing them; it just felt disrespectful to you.

but when he realized it was you, he completely froze. his eyes widened as he watched the way your body moved and rolled, at the skin that was exposed by your clothes, at the way your eyes seemed to stare at him straight through the screen —

“is everything alright, babe?” you asked suddenly, and mystery jumped. his throat felt kinda tight, but when he looked at you, that sensation dissipated.

you had a smirk on your lips. you knew. sly little minx, he couldn’t help but think with a small grin.

“more than alright, sweetheart.” he murmured back, placing a palm on your thigh. “though… think you could model this outfit for me? i don’t think the video gives it much justice.”

your little giggle as you took his hand and led him to your room had to quite possibly be the cutest sound he ever heard.

ᯓ★ ABBY. ⩩

abby is floored. quite literally. his feet are stuck to the ground and his eyes are glued to his screen, phone loud as it replays the video over and over.

if he’s getting any stares or rude gestures, he doesn’t realize it.

and if he did realize it — well, he wouldn’t fucking care. to be honest.

your body rocks in time with the music, all dolled up in quite possibly the hottest outfit abby has ever seen. your light makeup tops it off, the colors bringing more attention to your beautiful eyes — fuck, you look so good.

abby’s hands itch with the urge to touch your skin again, even though it had only been less than a day since he did so.

the reason he even came to the store in the first place is completely forgotten — tiktok is closed and he’s ringing you up, walking stiffly to the automatic doors while he inquires about if you’re free or not.

ᯓ★ JINU. ⩩

it’s a complete blindside for jinu — and he doesn’t even find it himself. instead, baby is the one who shows him.

“yo, look at this.” he had drawled, slinging an arm around jinu’s shoulder and practically shoving his phone straight into jinu’s nose.

jinu’s initial reaction was to bat the contraption away, but he froze when he caught sight of a familiar username. your username.

he rips the phone out of baby’s hand and pushes the other male away — but baby still slides up and rests his chin on jinu’s shoulder, eyes glued to the video playing on the screen.

it’s you, alright. with that gorgeous body all wrapped up in tight clothes, beautiful eyes trained seductively on the camera, and smooth movements.

“you reaaally gotta check your phone more, dude.” baby says, voice way too smug. “i’m pretty sure over one hundred thousand other guys have seen this before you. i mean, can’t blame ‘em, right—”

jinu shrugs baby off his shoulder with a growl, and there must have been some sort of violent intent in his eyes, because jinu has never seen baby run so fast before.

ᯓ★ BABY. ⩩

he sees it as he’s lazing in the makeup chair, only a half-hour before a show.

baby doesn’t think much of it when he gets the notification that you posted — in fact, he waits a whole minute before he even taps it open.

and when he does, his jaw absolutely drops. as if your revealing outfit wasn’t enough of a sexy dagger to the dick, you topped it off with sultry body movements and that song.

the makeup artist is getting huffy with him, giving him little slaps on the cheek to draw his attention away from the phone.

but he just can’t stop watching; can’t tear his eyes away from the way your body moves, the way the clothes accentuate all your curves in the best way, the way you give the camera those siren eyes —

“baby! makeup! now!” jinu snaps from a few chairs down, the only thing that can truly get baby to realign himself with the present.

baby clicks off his phone, but not before saving the video and making a mental note to beg you to do that dance in person.

ᯓ★ ROMANCE. ⩩

romance had a strong gut feeling you were going to hop on the trend the second you were exposed to it — and his feeling is confirmed when he opens tiktok one early morning, eyes immediately blessed by your beautiful body and fluid movements.

he can’t help but smirk as he watches; it’s certainly a sultry video, one that he is more than happy to watch and rewatch. but he’s gotta tease you, at least a little. so, he swipes off of tiktok and pulls up your number.

me: is this supposed to get my attention? <link> [6:47am]

the response is almost immediate.

my baby girl: depends. did it work? [6:47am]

romance smirks before casting a glance down at his crotch, which has formed a tent under the blanket. for a moment, he wavers on whether or not to take a shot of it and send it — but he chooses not to, and instead texts,

me: absolutely. i’ll be over in ten. make sure you’re ready, i wanna go out and show you off. [6:48am]

[elvensorceress]

wip wednesday

tagged by the lovely @glorious-spoon who has juicy delicious things in progress 👀

here is more pining disaster Buck and the BuckleyDiaz family in their roommate era. also it's a little nsfw text under the cut because Buck is thirsty thirsty.

@tizniz @hippolotamus @sergeantchenford @dangerpronebuddie @daffi-990 @bekkachaos @greencreekwolf @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @damnikindaship @sofa-king-lame @kejfeblintz @livinginsunnyhell @lover-of-mine @livingincolorsagain @thirdwheelravi @mangonadaeddie @babydollbuck @dollyblogs @lovecolibri @drmellking @singitforthegirls @monroemary @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @inell @sazanahashi @monsterrae1

Eddie strolls into the kitchen and Buck doesn’t get a chance to say anything else to Chris about the speed dating event Buck may or may not go to. 

“Morning,” Eddie stops behind Chris, kisses the top of Chris’ head, and then smiles as he looks at Buck. “What did you make? It smells amazing.” 

Buck tells him, offers to make him a plate, has to look away from how Eddie hasn’t gotten dressed yet. He’s in the clothes he slept in, and it makes him look so— soft? Comfortable? Unguarded? Eddie’s always so guarded. And lately he’s always exhausted and worn out, with deeper lines and dark circles around his eyes. But now he seems relaxed and rested and so, so— 

Beautiful? 

Is that the word? That’s the only word Buck can think of. Even Chim and Hen agreed the second they saw him. They say things like that so Buck can think it, too. Eddie is beautiful. It’s a fact. Especially when Eddie’s wearing that loose tank top that hangs off him and shows off thick arms and light chest hair and lean, toned muscles, and a hint of tiny perfect nipples. He’s also wearing thin cotton shorts that cling to his hips and thighs and ass.

Which Buck is not looking at. But he knows that is what those shorts do. They hug Eddie’s ass and it’s very noticeable even when you are not looking. 

Buck is not looking. He just knows what those shorts look like on Eddie’s body because he's seen Eddie wear them before.

The fact that Eddie is objectively attractive isn't relevant. It's just a fact. He has a nice ass.

It’s perfect actually. All thick and round, generous curves of muscle. The kind of ass you bury yourself in and never come up for air. The kind you lick and bite and spank and squeeze for hours.

Not that Buck is thinking about doing any of that. 

He’s not. 

Maybe he wants to do that to someone. Hypothetical someone. He’s not thinking about doing that with Eddie. But he’d have to be dead to not know that his friend has an objectively incredible ass. Buck has always been an ass man, okay? Doesn’t mean he’s looking. Or pining. Or crossing friendship lines.

Or thinking about burying his face in between those perfect cheeks and rimming him sloppy style until he sobs and begs to be fucked. Buck wouldn’t think anything like that. Eddie wouldn’t be into that. He’s straight. And probably very vanilla. Too vanilla for even rimming and anal play.

Buck’s really not thinking anything. Especially not about Eddie or sex or those two things combined. 

Even though Eddie smiles warmly at him like Buck hung the moon and gave him the world after vanquishing all the Hildys when he says, “I’d love that.” He squeezes Buck’s arm as he moves around him and goes for the mugs and the pot of coffee. 

God, Eddie has big incredible hands, too. They’re so strong but also so gentle. Buck wants to do nothing but beg and cry when Eddie makes him sit so he can rub Buck’s aching legs.

[lila-lou]

✨Beyond his true fate - Part 9/14✨

Summary: Sequel to "His true fate".

(Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.)

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, tough topics

Word Count: 7296

DISCLAIMER: Everything is purely fiction. I do not intend to attack or hurt anyone. The story is, of course, entirely made up and meant for entertainment purposes. I love them all.

The little Italian restaurant Donna had suggested was tucked off a quieter street in Austin, cozy and warm, with string lights lining the windows and the smell of basil and garlic hanging in the air. On any other day, it might’ve been comforting. Charming, even.

But today? You felt like absolute hell.

You’d spent the entire morning hunched over the toilet, nerves and nausea joining forces in a brutal tag-team. Your body felt shaky, your stomach churned at every bump in the road, and even now—sitting across from Donna at a corner table—you weren’t sure if you’d made the right call in showing up.

Still, you were here.

Pale, hoodie-clad, leggings hugging your legs, no makeup—just tired eyes and a lot of willpower.

Donna had noticed. Of course she had. But she hadn’t commented. She simply gave you that sweet, practiced smile as she sipped her water and rested her hands gently around her glass.

“You don’t have to force yourself to eat, sweetheart”, she said after a beat, her voice soft but not patronizing. “I’ve had enough pregnancies around me to know what morning sickness looks like… even at noon”.

You managed a faint smile, tugging at the sleeve of your hoodie. “Yeah, it’s been one of those weeks”.

Donna nodded slowly, then leaned in just slightly, her tone gentle. “I just want you to know—I’m really glad you came”.

You looked at her, surprised by the sincerity in her eyes. There wasn’t judgment there. Just curiosity. And maybe… a little warmth. “Me too”, you murmured. “Even if I’m kind of a mess”.

Donna chuckled, waving a hand. “Honey, if I judged every young woman for showing up without mascara and heels, I’d have to apologize to half of Texas”.

That pulled a quiet laugh from you. A real one.

“I meant what I said the other day”, she continued, more carefully now. “I want to get to know you. Not just because you’re with Jensen… but because you matter to him. And I saw how scared he was the other night”.

You swallowed, your throat tightening a little.

Donna hesitated, then said softly, “Do you feel safe with him? Really safe?”.

Your eyes lifted, meeting hers, and this time… there wasn’t a single doubt in your voice. “Yes”, you said, steady and sure. “Completely”.

She nodded, exhaling a quiet breath. “Good. That’s all I ever wanted for him”.

Donna took another small sip of her water, then placed the glass down gently and folded her hands. Her gaze stayed on you for a moment before drifting off, like she was gathering her words from somewhere carefully tucked away.

“I was never a big fan of Danneel”, she said, not with malice, but quiet honesty. “We were polite with each other, for Jensen’s sake. She wasn’t a bad person, just… we never clicked. And truthfully, I don’t think she and Jensen really did either. Not the way I’d always hoped he would with someone”.

You nodded slowly, your fingers tracing the edge of your napkin, unsure of where this was going, but listening.

Donna’s eyes came back to yours. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard, watching it end the way it did. Watching him walk away from his family—three kids. A marriage. A whole life we thought was set in stone”.

You swallowed, your chest tightening.

“I never wanted that for him”, she continued softly. “I never wanted any of my children to go through divorce. And it wasn’t just about the headlines or the whispers—it was knowing how broken he had to be to finally walk away”.

Your throat ached. You didn’t interrupt. She needed to say this. And maybe… you needed to hear it.

“It took me a long time to accept it”, she admitted. “Still working on it, in some ways. But then I saw how he looks at you. How protective he is. How he listens when you speak. And that night… the fear in his eyes when you were in pain?”.

She paused, her expression softening. “That wasn’t a man going through a phase. That wasn’t a midlife crisis. That was my son being in love—and terrified of losing it”.

You felt tears burn behind your eyes, but you blinked quickly, biting your lip.

Donna reached across the table, her hand resting lightly over yours. “I just want to understand. And maybe learn how to be part of this, too… if you’ll let me”.

You stared down at Donna’s hand over yours for a long second, the warmth of it almost shocking through the chill that had settled in your chest that morning. You didn’t move, not at first—just let yourself breathe. Really breathe. Because for the first time since that awful night, you felt like she wasn’t speaking at you.

She was speaking to you.

And she wasn’t wrong.

When you finally looked up, your voice was soft but steady. “I never meant to be the reason he left”.

Donna didn’t flinch. She didn’t interrupt. She just listened.

You exhaled slowly, fingers tightening slightly around your napkin. “When we met… it wasn’t some grand, wild thing. We didn’t plan any of it. I didn’t even know who he was when Jared invited me to that party. I didn’t see a movie star or a man with three kids. I just saw someone who looked a little lonely. And tired”.

Donna’s brows twitched, but she didn’t break her gaze.

“And yeah… maybe I am younger. Maybe it doesn’t look perfect from the outside. But I fell in love with him, not with the idea of him. And I never asked him to leave anything. He was already gone long before I got there”. Your voice caught, but you pushed through it. “And the kids? I would never try to replace what they had. I just want to be someone steady. Someone safe”.

The silence between you stretched for a long moment before Donna finally nodded, her thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“I believe you”, she said gently. “And for what it’s worth… I don’t think you were the reason he left. But I do think you might be the reason he’s finally free”.

Tears stung in your eyes again, but this time you didn’t try to stop them.

Donna offered you a small smile. “And if that’s true… then I’m grateful for you”.

You looked at her, truly looked at her. And this time, your smile didn’t feel forced.

“Thank you”, you whispered.

Donna reached for her glass of water, her gaze soft as she swirled it absently, not quite looking at you now—more like she was speaking out loud to her own thoughts.

“I watched him lose the light in his eyes”, she murmured. “Little by little over the years. At first, I thought it was just the show ending. Supernatural was his whole world for so long, and then it was just… done. He moved away from Austin, got busier, more closed off. Every time I’d see him, he looked more and more tired, even when he smiled”.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to.

She set the glass down and looked at you again, the weight behind her gaze heavier this time—but not unkind. “I never thought it was about the marriage. Or Danneel. At least not fully. I thought it was just life wearing him down—the pressure, the roles, the schedule. But now?”.

Her mouth lifted in a quiet, bittersweet smile. “Now I see it. He started coming back to himself almost a year ago. And he met you… what? Almost a year ago?”.

You gave a shy nod.

Her hand reached for yours again, a little firmer this time. “You brought my son back to me. And I was too busy being scared to see it”.

Your chest tightened as her words sank in.

Donna’s voice was softer now. “I’m not gonna pretend it’s all easy. Or that I don’t still worry. But I see how he looks at you. And I see how you look back. That… that means something”.

She smiled again, something softer, something truer. “If you don’t mind me asking��”, she said carefully, her voice low but kind, “was the baby planned?”.

You swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of your hands in your lap, fingers tugging at the edge of your sleeve. “No”, you admitted quietly, your eyes flicking up to hers, “he wasn’t”.

Donna didn’t look surprised. She didn’t look judgmental either. Just thoughtful.

“I figured”, she said softly. “The way everything’s unfolded, it… made me wonder”.

You nodded, your throat feeling tight. “It wasn’t something we talked about. At all. We were… still figuring things out. Still hiding. Still scared”.

Donna tilted her head, studying you. “And when you found out?”.

You let out a breath, shaky and low. “I panicked. We both did. He didn’t take it well at first, and I—I left for a while”.

Her lips pressed together in a faint line, but she stayed quiet.

You blinked down at the table. “For a while, he didn’t want the baby to exist”.

That silence again. Heavier this time.

“But now?”, Donna asked gently.

You looked up, and this time, you didn’t hesitate. “Now he talks to him when he thinks I’m asleep. He kisses my belly like it’s instinct. He’s… trying. Every day”.

Donna’s eyes softened. She reached across the table, resting her hand over yours again. “Then you’re doing better than most”.

You smiled, small but honest. “It doesn’t feel like it all the time”.

“No”, she agreed. “But the good ones rarely do”.

Donna leaned back slightly in her chair, her fingers still gently resting over yours, her gaze drifting for a moment—like she was weighing the risk of saying something she’d clearly been thinking for a long time.

Then, with a soft exhale, she murmured, “I think Danneel ruined all the family stuff for Jensen”.

You looked up, startled—not by the words themselves, but by how easily they came out. There was no bitterness in her voice. No cruelty. Just quiet, motherly sadness.

“He used to love it”, she continued, her voice low. “Holidays. Sunday dinners. Birthdays. He was the kind of boy who wanted everyone in one room. Wanted to make people laugh, be the center of the noise. He was soft in a way you’d only know if you really saw him”.

Your heart clenched at that.

“But over the years…”, She shook her head. “I watched it fade. One missed visit turned into five. Phone calls got shorter. He stopped bringing the kids around, and when he did… there was always tension. Always distance".

You said nothing—there was nothing you could say to that.

“I’m not blaming her for everything”, Donna added after a beat. “That wouldn’t be fair. But I know my son. And I know he stopped smiling like himself long before the world noticed”.

A silence fell between you, but it wasn’t heavy. Just real.

“I always knew Jensen didn’t want more kids”, she said, not unkindly. “Not after the twins. He was tired. Worn down. And he told me once—quiet, like he was ashamed—that he didn’t know if he was any good at being a dad”.

You swallowed hard, the truth of that cutting deeper than you expected. You’d seen it yourself in those first few weeks after you told him. The fear. The distance. The ache he tried to swallow down.

Donna’s eyes met yours, kind but unwavering. “So I can imagine how he reacted. Finding out. The panic. The walls going up. That’s my son. He runs from what scares him”.

You nodded faintly, your thumb brushing over the edge of your napkin, folding it and unfolding it without thought.

“But”, she said, leaning forward just a little, voice firmer now, “when we were here a few nights ago… when that pain hit you and you looked like you might fall apart in front of us—”. She paused, swallowing thickly. “The fear in his eyes? That wasn’t someone on the fence”.

You looked up.

“That was a man all in”, Donna continued, her words delicate but steady. “He didn’t care what we thought. He didn’t care what it looked like. He just needed you to be okay. Needed that baby to be okay”.

Your chest tightened.

Donna reached across the table again, her hand brushing over yours, grounding and warm. “He might not know how to say it yet. Might still be figuring it out. But believe me when I say it—he wants you. And he wants that baby. He’s already yours”.

Your throat ached with emotion as you whispered, “Thank you”.

Donna smiled, her eyes misty too now. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Just don’t let him forget it”.

By the time dessert arrived—tiramisu and a tiny scoop of pistachio gelato—the mood at the table had shifted. Some of the tension had melted into something easier, lighter. And though your nerves were still tucked beneath the surface, they weren’t as sharp now. Not with Donna sitting across from you, smiling softly as she spooned a bit of gelato and listened intently.

“My parents want to visit every other weekend now”, you said, your laugh airy, laced with affection and exhaustion. “They’re obsessed already, and the baby isn’t even here yet”.

Donna chuckled warmly. “That’s how it goes. Wait until they show up with a minivan full of toys and stuff you didn’t ask for”.

“They already threatened to bring a bassinet for their guest room”. You rolled your eyes playfully. “And I know they mean well, but… after everything Jensen and I have been through these past few months, we kind of just want a few more days for ourselves. A little bubble”.

Donna nodded, her expression understanding. “That makes sense. After the start you’ve had…”, she gave your hand another light squeeze, “you deserve that bubble”.

You smiled, feeling the words settle gently in your chest.

“And the nursery?”, she asked, shifting topics like a soft breeze. “How’s it coming?”.

Your shoulders relaxed more as you smiled. “Finally starting to come together. Slowly. Jensen’s been putting so much care into it—folding baby clothes like he’s afraid they’ll wrinkle permanently, checking every edge of the crib. It’s actually kind of sweet”.

Donna’s eyes lit up at that. “I’d love to see it before we head back, if you’d be okay with that”.

You hesitated—just for a second—but then nodded. “Yeah. I think he’d like that”.

She smiled, clearly touched. “I know I would”.

And for the first time since sitting down across from her, it felt like things might actually be okay. Like maybe this could become something real—family, slowly mending itself together. One shared dessert and small, honest moment at a time.

After another hour of soft conversation, quiet laughter, and one last refill of water, you and Donna finally stood from the table. She helped you with your coat before slipping on her own, the late afternoon light casting a soft glow through the front windows of the small restaurant.

When you stepped outside, Jensen’s truck was already parked along the curb, idling quietly. You saw him in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other draped lazily out the window. His ball cap sat low over his brow, sunglasses shielding most of his face — a half-hearted attempt at blending in, even though you both knew anyone who looked too close would recognize him instantly.

You felt your pulse skip a little as you and Donna approached the truck. You weren’t official yet. Not to the public, not online, not in any statement — and moments like this were still carefully calculated. A dance between private reality and public silence.

Jensen spotted you, straightening slightly in his seat before reaching over to unlock the doors. You opened the passenger side first for Donna, helping her in carefully, and then rounded the hood to climb into the back seat.

As you settled in, Jensen glanced at you through the rearview mirror, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Hey”.

“Hey”, you murmured, soft and tired.

Donna turned just enough in her seat to look back at you. “Thank you for today, sweetheart”.

You nodded, giving her a tired but genuine smile. “Thank you”.

As Jensen pulled away from the curb, the silence in the car wasn’t heavy — it was calm. Donna gave directions to her hotel, Jensen chimed in with the occasional sarcastic side comment, and you just… breathed.

You still didn’t know what tomorrow would bring — how the public would react, what Alan might say if you saw him again, how the pressure would feel once your relationship no longer lived behind closed doors.

But right now, this felt like a step. One step closer to the life you were quietly building — one soft, quiet day at a time.

At home, you kicked off your shoes by the front door, your limbs heavy with exhaustion but your heart surprisingly light after the lunch with Donna. Jensen set your bag down on the hallway bench and leaned in to press a soft kiss to your temple.

“Go lie down if you want”, he murmured. “I’ll bring you tea or something”.

You nodded, but instead of heading to the bedroom, your feet carried you down the hall, drawn almost on instinct toward the nursery. You hadn’t even realized you were going that way until you reached the door — already slightly ajar.

And then you saw it. You blinked.

The last piece of nursery furniture — the wide white dresser you’d both agreed would double as a changing table — was completely built. Drawers lined up perfectly, soft-close gliders already installed. And the top was lined with a little padded mat, folded blankets, and a few neutral-toned baby outfits Jensen must’ve placed there.

Your mouth parted in surprise.

You stepped in slowly, your hand brushing the smooth wood of the dresser as your heart gave a full, emotional twist. You hadn’t even heard him build it. Maybe he did it this morning… maybe while you were napping yesterday. But it was done.

And perfect.

Jensen’s voice came from behind you, quiet and a little sheepish. “I didn’t want to wait anymore”.

You turned around to find him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze flicking over your face like he was trying to read how you felt before you said anything.

“I know we said we’d do it together”, he added. “But after everything this week, I thought maybe… it’d feel good to see something finished”.

You didn’t trust your voice right away. So you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him instead, pressing your face into his chest. His arms folded around you instantly, strong and warm.

“It’s perfect”, you whispered.

And it was — not just the dresser.

But this. The effort. The care. The quiet way he kept trying to prove he was here — not with words, but with everything else.

You leaned up, hands on his chest, and kissed him—soft at first, but lingering. Gratitude poured through the way your lips moved against his, how your fingers curled slightly into the front of his shirt. When you finally pulled back, your voice was barely a whisper.

“Thank you”.

Jensen smirked, one brow arching as he stayed leaned against the doorframe, arms still wrapped loosely around your waist. “Would’ve been done last week”, he murmured, lips brushing yours again, “if you didn’t want to get fucked every five minutes”.

Your mouth dropped open in mock offense, and you lightly smacked his shoulder. “Excuse me?”.

He grinned wider, clearly proud of himself. “I’m just saying—between the kitchen, the shower, and the hot tub? That dresser didn’t stand a chance”.

You tried to scowl, but the laugh that broke out betrayed you. “Maybe I’ve been a little needy”.

“A little?”, he teased, leaning in to nip gently at your jaw. “Sweetheart, you’ve been insatiable. Not that I’m complaining”.

You rolled your eyes but wrapped your arms tighter around his neck. “Well”, you murmured, “I’ve got a few more weeks before this belly really starts getting in the way…”.

Jensen groaned softly, resting his forehead against yours. “Don’t tempt me”.

You pulled away gently, before you wandered deeper into the nursery, your bare feet padding softly against the hardwood as you took it all in—the soft green tones, the carefully chosen wall art, the tiny clothes folded neatly in the open dresser drawers. It was nearly finished now. The last piece—the changing table Jensen had just built—sat perfectly in place beneath the window, sunlight catching on the smooth wood.

You bit your lip, overwhelmed in the best way. This little room, this quiet space, had once felt so far away. Now it felt like home.

Behind you, Jensen still leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with that small, soft smile he reserved just for you.

“You gonna come with me to Toronto next week?”, he asked, voice casual, but there was something more behind it—hope, maybe. “It’s just two weeks. We’ll be back before your appointment, and then…”. He stepped forward, slipping his arms gently around your waist, his hands settling low beneath your belly. “Then we could finally cash in that flight to the Maldives”.

You turned in his arms, looking up at him, heart thudding at the thought of that trip—how he had bought the ticket for you, long before either of you were ready. And now? Maybe… you were.

“Toronto”, you repeated, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Then the Maldives”.

Jensen grinned, leaning in to brush a kiss against your lips. “Then the Maldives”.

You smiled against his mouth, the kind of soft, full smile that made your cheeks ache. “I’d like that”, you whispered, your fingers sliding up into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Both”.

Jensen’s grin widened as he pressed another kiss to your lips—deeper this time, slower. His hands rested firmly at your lower back, thumbs brushing against the curve of your belly, as if he was anchoring himself in this moment. In you. In everything the two of you had built together after nearly breaking it all apart.

“I just want time with you”, he murmured against your lips. “Away from everything. Just us and him”.

You glanced down between your bodies, your hand instinctively sliding over your stomach, then looked back up at him. “You sure it won’t be too much?”, you asked quietly. “Travel, work… me?”.

Jensen leaned his forehead to yours. “You’re never too much”, he said without missing a beat. “You’re everything”.

The words settled over you like a blanket, easing the last bit of lingering doubt.

You kissed him again, softer this time. And when you pulled back, you rested your head against his chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of his heart.

“Alright”, you whispered. “Toronto. And then the Maldives”.

The next few days passed in a whirlwind of packing, doctor’s check-ins, and quiet goodbyes. And then, finally, there you were—25 weeks pregnant and barefoot on polished white floors, stepping inside a private beach house that looked like something out of a dream.

The soft crash of waves echoed just beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Sheer curtains fluttered in the breeze. Every surface was sun-warmed wood and soft linen, the kind of peace that felt like a deep exhale.

You bit your lip as you looked around, your hand instinctively cradling your belly. “Oh my God”, you breathed, voice barely above a whisper. “This is… unreal”.

Jensen stepped in behind you, his bag dropping gently to the floor as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. “Worth the flight?”.

You leaned back into him, already overwhelmed with the warmth of it all—sunlight, ocean air, him. “More than worth it”.

He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, letting it linger. “This was supposed to be just a few days”, he said softly. “But I kinda wanna stay forever”.

You turned in his arms, smiling up at him, the ocean breeze catching your hair. “You’re not the only one”.

He grinned, brushing his thumb over the soft curve of your cheek. “Then we make the most of every second”.

Jensen’s hands slid down slowly, cupping your belly with a practiced gentleness that made your whole body relax into him. His palms were broad, warm, steady—lifting the weight of it ever so slightly, just enough to ease the ache that had been sitting in your lower back for the past couple of days. You exhaled quietly, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the pressure let up.

“God”, you murmured, “don’t stop”.

He chuckled against your temple, voice low and full of that signature teasing edge. “What, this?”. He gave your belly the faintest little lift again, making you sigh in relief.

“You’re magic”, you whispered.

“Mmhmm”. His hands stayed in place, thumbs brushing lazy circles along your sides. “You do realize this thing”, he nudged your belly playfully with his thumbs, “isn’t gonna get any smaller the next few months”.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Thanks for the reminder”.

He smirked, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “I’m just sayin’… might need to start wearing a back brace myself if he keeps growing like this”.

You turned your head, bumping your nose against his jaw. “Good. We’ll match”.

Jensen grinned, holding you a little closer. “Just means I’ve got more of you to hold”.

A little while later, Jensen leaned against the backdoor frame, one shoulder pressed into the wood, sunglasses perched on his nose and his cap flipped backward in full vacation mode. The sound of waves rolling gently onto the shore was the only thing keeping him from knocking on the bathroom door for the third time.

Thirty minutes. You’d been in there thirty minutes.

He glanced down at his phone, scrolling aimlessly through old photos, the corners of his mouth tugging up at one of you asleep with popcorn on your chest, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Something felt off.

He could hear movement inside—drawers opening, soft rustling, the water running for a second. But no words. No “I’ll be right out” or “Just give me a second.” Just silence. And that silence made his gut twist.

Inside the bathroom, your fingers trembled as you stared at yourself in the mirror. The bikini top hung open behind your back, impossible to tie no matter how you twisted or turned. Your belly had grown just enough that nothing fit the way it used to. The material dug in where it hadn’t before. Your chest was heavier, fuller, and swollen in a way that made you feel like someone else.

You had tried to laugh it off at first, muttering something about island coconuts and elastic lies. But after the fourth failed attempt to get it tied, your hands had started to shake. Now, leaning against the sink, you blinked back frustrated tears, hating that this beautiful moment—a trip you’d looked forward to for months—was getting hijacked by a damn bikini top.

Just as you exhaled shakily, your name came softly through the door.

“Baby?”. Jensen’s voice was quieter now, less playful. “You okay in there?”.

You hesitated for a second, debating whether to pull yourself together or call out the truth. But before you could decide, he gently knocked again, a beat of concern in his tone this time.

“Can I come in?”.

You bit your lip, heart thudding. Then finally, you whispered, “Yeah”.

The door creaked open, and there he was—still beach-ready, sunglasses pushed to the top of his cap now, his expression shifting the moment he saw you. You stood there, cheeks flushed, hands still clutching the straps of the untied top, your eyes a little glassy.

“I can’t…”, you exhaled, defeated. “I can’t even tie this stupid thing”.

Jensen blinked once, then stepped closer, all softness now. “Hey”, he said gently, reaching for your hands. “C´mere”.

Jensen took your hands, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles before he eased them away from the bikini straps. “Turn around”, he murmured, his voice soft and calm, like he had all the time in the world.

You hesitated, cheeks burning, but did as he asked. His fingers slid over your shoulders, brushing against your skin as he carefully brought the bikini straps together behind you. He was so gentle, so deliberate, it almost took your breath away. The tension started to melt from your body—not just because of his touch, but because of the way he was handling this moment, not teasing or rushing, just steady and there.

But as his hands worked, he let out a low hum, and you felt the warmth of his gaze on your back, then lower. Then he paused, just for a second, his fingertips brushing the fabric at the small of your back. “You’re killing me”, he said, barely above a whisper, the faintest trace of a grin in his voice.

You turned your head slightly, your eyes meeting his in the mirror. His expression wasn’t what you expected. He wasn’t embarrassed or flustered—he was captivated. His lips parted just enough to let out a soft exhale, his pupils dark and heavy as he looked at you.

Your chest rose and fell, your breaths shallow as you realized how close he was, how his hands still lingered against you. “Jensen…”.

He stepped closer, his body brushing yours now, his lips pressing softly to your shoulder, then the curve of your neck. You felt him smile against your skin. “How am I supposed to tie this”, he murmured, his voice husky, “when you look like this?”.

You swallowed, trying to think of something to say, but his hands were on you again, tracing your waist, brushing against the swell of your belly. He didn’t even try to hide it—he was hard, and you could feel it against your lower back as he pulled you closer.

“I’m supposed to be patient”, he murmured, his lips still grazing your neck. “I’m supposed to let you finish getting ready so we can sit on the beach and relax. But you standing here like this…”. He let out a quiet groan. “You’re not making it easy”.

Your breath hitched as his hands skimmed the sides of your chest, careful but firm, like he wanted to touch every inch of you. You felt his teeth graze your shoulder, then his mouth moved lower, lips trailing along the curve of your neck.

“Jensen, I…”, you tried to speak, but your voice faltered as his fingers brushed against the side of your breast. His touch was reverent, slow, like he was worshiping you without saying a word.

Jensen let out a long breath, resting his forehead against the crook of your neck. “I know”, he grumbled, his tone a mix of frustration and fondness. He stayed there for a moment, his lips brushing lightly against your skin before he gave your shoulder a playful nip, just enough to make you shiver.

“I know”, he said again, softer this time, knowing how sore from the night before you still were, pulling back. His hand slid into yours, warm and steady, and he interlaced your fingers before tugging gently. “C’mon. Let’s get outside”.

You hesitated, still feeling the heat lingering between you both, but his expression softened as he smiled down at you—just the hint of that boyish grin that always made your chest ache in the best way.

Reluctantly, you let him lead you toward the door. As he pushed it open, the light of the sun spilled in, golden and warm, making the moment feel just a little lighter. His hand stayed wrapped around yours as he stepped onto the sand, his sunglasses glinting in the sun as he glanced back at you.

“You coming?”, he teased, his voice playful again, the earlier tension easing as he watched you with that familiar mix of love and mischief.

You bit your lip, nodded, and stepped outside into the warmth, feeling his grip tighten ever so slightly around yours.

The gentle crash of the waves filled the air as you both dried off and sank into the soft sand a while later. The sunset painted everything in shades of gold and orange, and you leaned back, letting the warmth of the sun’s last rays wash over you. Jensen sat behind you, his arms resting on his knees, gazing out at the horizon.

You didn’t even notice him pull out his phone at first. He was subtle, quiet as he shifted behind you, angling it carefully before snapping a quick photo. No face, no belly—just the curve of your shoulder, your damp hair cascading down your back, the ocean beyond. A simple, peaceful shot.

Jensen adjusted his position slightly, sliding in behind you firmly again, as his arm came around your waist, pulling you gently back against him. His phone was already in his other hand, the screen bright against the dimming light of the sunset.

He angled the phone so both of you could see the screen, the post now live for the world to see. The caption read: “Where the air is warm and the company feels like forever”. Simple. Evasive enough to protect your privacy, but intimate in a way that was undeniably deliberate.

Your breath hitched sharply in your throat, eyes wide as you stared at the post now lighting up his screen. “You did it?”, you whispered, voice trembling with nerves and excitement as you glanced up at Jensen. He still wore his sunglasses, but the soft, reassuring smile on his lips said it all.

“Yeah, I did”, he replied gently, thumb softly brushing along your waist. “Figured it was about time”.

He scrolled slowly through the comments flooding in:

@spnlover4ever: OMG, Jensen?? Who is she?? 😭❤️ @alwaysackles: My heart just exploded!! So happy for you Jensen!! 🥹💕 @deanwinchestersgirl: It’s official, Jensen’s got a new girl!! I’m crying and screaming right now! @padacklesfam: FINALLY! He deserves this after everything he’s been through. Happy for you, Jensen 💗 @justjensen: Who else is zooming in to find clues?! 🕵️‍♀️🙋‍♀️ @texanackles: Jensen, you soft romantic, you 😭❤️ @hellerackles: WAIT WAIT WHO IS SHE?? GIVE US ANSWERS!

Your pulse quickened with every new comment, the weight of what Jensen had just done sinking in. But as he kissed your temple and held you even closer, you felt a comforting warmth. The world now knew he was taken, even if they didn’t know by whom yet—and he wasn’t backing away.

Jensen smoothly skipped past the negative comments—those few inevitable ones from "fans" still holding onto the past. He’d expected them, braced himself for the backlash, but none of it touched him now. Not when he had you, not when he had this moment.

With a quiet exhale, he locked his phone and set it aside on the towel beside you, his arm circling tighter around your waist. He pulled you back against his chest, the curve of your body fitting perfectly against his. His other hand settled over your bump just in time to feel it again—a firm, unmistakable kick.

“Whoa”, he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your hair. “He’s really making his presence known today, huh?”.

You laughed, breath catching as you covered his hand with yours. “He knows what you just did”, you whispered, your voice laced with wonder. “He felt it. Felt you choosing us”.

Jensen tilted his head down, nuzzling against the curve of your neck. “I chose you the second I met you”, he murmured. “Posting that? That was just me finally catching up”.

The breeze off the ocean curled around you both, cool but gentle, the waves rolling in rhythm with your baby’s kicks. The world behind you might still be buzzing with speculation, but out here—wrapped in his arms with your growing family between you—it all faded away.

“Think he’ll have your eyes?”, Jensen asked after a moment, voice low with that soft kind of hope he only ever showed you.

You looked up at him slowly, your cheek brushing against the warmth of his bare chest as you shifted just enough to reach for his face. Gently, with fingers that knew every line and edge of him by heart, you slid his sunglasses off.

“Hopefully he’ll get yours”, you whispered, setting them aside in the soft sand beside the towel. Your eyes held his now, unguarded and open. “I’ve always loved your eyes”.

Jensen’s breath hitched, just the slightest catch, but you felt it. Felt the way your words wrapped around something deep inside him. His hand tightened on your bump instinctively, like holding on to both of you anchored him. A soft smile spread on his face.

“I want him to have your smile too”, you said after a moment, lips tugging into one of your own. “That crooked one that makes my knees weak”.

“Oh yeah?”, Jensen grinned, eyes dancing as he leaned in close. “You mean this one?”.

He flashed it, full force and mischievous—and just like always, your breath caught. You playfully pushed at his chest, laughing, but he caught your wrist mid-motion and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm.

“Thought about a name?”, he whispered, his voice barely louder than the waves, fingers threading gently through your damp hair.

You leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. His fingers always had a way of grounding you, like they held pieces of you together that only he could find.

“I have”, you admitted quietly, heart fluttering at the idea of speaking it aloud. “But I wanted to know what you thought first”.

Jensen hummed thoughtfully, his thumb brushing just behind your ear as he studied your face. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Every time I talk to him, I try a few out, see if anything fits”.

You smiled, eyes flickering open to meet his again. “And?”.

“And one keeps coming back to me”, he said, voice soft with certainty.

You shifted slightly, your bump still resting beneath both your hands. “Tell me”.

He took a breath, eyes flicking down to your stomach before meeting yours again. “Dean“.

You raised both eyebrows, caught somewhere between surprise and a warmth that bloomed instantly in your chest. “Dean?”, you repeated, voice soft, searching his face.

Jensen nodded, his thumb still gently brushing along your hairline. “Yeah. I know it might seem obvious or… I don’t know, sentimental”, he chuckled quietly, “but it’s not just about the character. It’s what the name means to me now”.

You watched him, eyes glassy as he continued.

“Dean taught me a lot. About loyalty, about heart, about fighting like hell for the people you love. And I put so much of myself into him over the years, sometimes I feel like he was a part of me that never really left. Giving that name to our son…”. He looked down at your bump again, voice thick with emotion. “It feels like passing on the good parts”.

Your heart swelled, a lump rising in your throat. You reached for his face again, cupping his cheek, brushing your thumb across the light scruff there. “You big softie”, you whispered, your voice trembling with laughter and tears all at once. “Who knew Jensen Ackles could be so damn sentimental?”.

Jensen huffed a breath of a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners, but there was no denying the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed back his own emotions.

“Oh, come on”, he muttered with his crooked grin. “You say that like I haven’t always been a total sap for you”.

You grinned through the mist in your eyes, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. “You have. Hopeless. And now our son’s gonna be a heart-melter too, just like his dad”.

Jensen leaned into your touch, his lashes brushing the tops of your fingers as he closed his eyes for a moment. “I hope he’s got your fire”, he murmured. “And your laugh. God, especially your laugh”.

You gave a watery chuckle and shifted closer, resting your forehead against his. “You realize we’re sitting here, I´m crying on a beach over a baby name, right?”.

He nodded, smiling, eyes still closed. “Yeah. And I wouldn’t change a damn thing about it”.

A gust of sea breeze curled around you both, lifting the edges of the towel and carrying with it the soft, salty scent of the ocean. Dean kicked again, a steady rhythm beneath your joined hands, like he was already part of the conversation.

You let out a soft breath, kissing Jensen’s lips once—then again. “Dean it is”.

“This was easier than I thought”, Jensen admitted after a beat, his voice quieter now—almost like a confession carried on the wind.

You tilted your head slightly, watching him. There was something deeper behind his words, something that clung to the way his eyes flicked toward the waves before returning to yours.

He ran his hand gently over your bump again, a protective, instinctive gesture. “With Danneel… everything was a battle”, he said, not bitter, just honest. “Even the small things. Names, nursery colors, baby stuff—hell, what kind of stroller to buy. It always turned into a fight. And eventually, I just stopped… caring”.

Your fingers wove through his, grounding him without words. He looked down at your joined hands and exhaled slowly, like letting go of a weight he hadn’t realized he still carried.

“But this? With you?”. His eyes lifted to meet yours again. “It’s different. You make things easy. Like it’s safe to want things again”.

Tears stung your eyes, but you didn’t try to blink them away this time. Instead, you brought his hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “That’s because we’re not trying to win anything here”, you whispered. “We’re building something. Together”.

Jensen’s jaw clenched for a second, emotion catching in his throat. Then he leaned in, kissing you slow, steady, and full of everything words couldn’t say.

Dean gave another firm little kick beneath your hands, and Jensen laughed against your lips.

“Alright, alright, little man”, he said with a grin. “We’ll stop being mushy. For now”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87 @ascarriel @deanwinchesters67impala @thebiggerbear @quietgirll75 @barnes70stark @kellyls04 @spxideyver @ralilda @americanvenom13 @ozwriterchick @lmg14

[rori-is-writing]

I Like To Watch

A The Pitt Reader X Drabble.

Explicit | Dr. Robby x Dr. Abbot x Reader | 303 words ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Summary: You ask to watch Robby and Abbot together. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Tags: Praise Kink, Voyeurism

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

[ A/N: Whoops, I tripped and fell and wrote more porn. ]

You told them you just wanted to watch tonight. 

And Jack and Robby—your perfect, eager old men—were only too happy to oblige. 

Now, watching them all but rip each other’s clothes off, you have to applaud your own genius decision making. You don’t think you’ve been this turned on in…well, since that one time they both ganged up on you and made you come so many times you cried. 

(What a wonderful night that had been.)

They’re so different from how they are in the E.R. Serious. Dependable. Highly competent. Compassionate. Everything you’d want in a doctor really. 

But here, in your bed, they are…something else. 

You watch Jack grunt, animal-like, as he shoves into Robby with enough force to shake the bed. Robby looks wrecked. Eyes glassy, face flushed, hands and fingers splayed out on the bedspread like he’s reaching for something only he can see. 

“Yes!” Jack hisses as he thrusts deep and you sit there, only feet away, as you watch slack-jawed. 

You feel hot. Shivery. Ready to combust. 

Robby gasps as Jack hits something inside of him and you see his cock—already leaking onto the coverlet—jump. 

“Right there huh?” Jack says conversationally, thrusting shallowly just to hear his lover let out a quivery moan. “Good boy.” 

Robby doesn’t reply. You don’t think he even can. He seems to have completely forgotten how human speech works, only able to communicate via animalistic grunts and groans. 

Holy fuck, you think, horny as hell. 

“Enjoying the show?” Jack asks, turning his head to stare right at you as he continued to thrust and plunder Robby’s body like his own personal plaything. 

“Uh huh,” you reply dazedly. “Don’t stop.”

“Oh honey,” He laughs, a little mean. “You don’t have to worry about that.” 

He keeps his word. 

Next Drabble | Drabble Masterlist

Thanks for reading! 💙

[kitkat13001]

Hi Kitty! Congrats on 1k, that's so exciting!!

I'd love to participate in your event too!

Chosing Tomura Shigaraki (surprise!) and I got: rom com + waiter/waitress (me) + florist (him - okay, I could actually see this??) + Sweet Disposition by Temper Trap + run away together

Thanks for doing these, it's such a cute idea!

★ THE SPECTACULAR NOW

🎞️ STARRING: tomura shigaraki ! just stay there, ‘cause i’ll be comin’ over while our blood’s still young, won’t stop

“we could go anywhere.”

it’s that time of year again 

coming into spring with all the holidays ahead — birthdays and mother’s day and graduations and father’s day and all the blooming flowers

“what is it this time?” the flower boy — tomura, his name tag reads — asks, half amused and half exasperated as you bring another bouquet up to the register

you’re a little surprised he remembers you (though you shouldn’t be, considering the last few months you’ve been in here every other week buying a new arrangement for every occasion imaginable)

“let me guess,” he jokes dryly, “your mother’s friend’s dog’s baby shower?”  you laugh, watching him wrap the bouquet up. “close. my cousin is getting married.” “ah, a real occasion this time,” he replies sarcastically. you laugh. “you talk a lot of smack for an emo who works in a flower shop.”

he informs you as he cuts the stalks that it’s his mother’s shop and he only works here part-time while he “figures some stuff out”

he seems fairly at peace here though, surrounded by the flowers. a little out of place maybe, to an untrained eye at least, but comfortable 

and cute, though you don’t mention that part just yet 

he hands you the finished bouquet, turning away quickly after in the hopes you won’t see the pink tinge to his cheeks when your fingers brush against his

you show up again less than a week later, cheeks warm and poking around the flowers until you get the nerve to go up to the counter (empty-handed)

tomura raises an eyebrow. “you have to buy something for me to ring you up, you know.”

“do you want to come with me to that wedding?”

“i thought that was last week.”

“no, i just sent the flowers last week. the wedding is this weekend.”

he stares at you for a long time, mostly unreadable, but you hold his gaze 

“the food is going to be amazing and we can sit in the back and make fun of all the snotty extended family.”

he’s quiet for one more second before he grabs one singular flower and wraps it up, scribbling something on the cellophane 

tomura shigaraki ꨄ (xxx)-xxx-xxxx

“text me what time i should pick you up.”

you beam down at the flower and note, then up at him. you kiss his cheek quickly before taking the flower and hurrying out of the shop, giggling at the way he stands there long after with dumbstruck red cheeks, grumbling about having to find a suit

and he looks like a vision in it — leaning against his beat-up car in front of your house with a suit that’s half a size too big and a crooked tie and looking absolutely gorgeous 

he pretends he doesn’t blush when he sees you, telling you quietly that “you look…good” and obeying your directions to the venue 

you make good on your word — the food is in fact amazing and tomura finds himself snorting chuckles at your commentary during the ceremony and by dinner he’s cracking jokes of his own 

you even manage to drag him out to the dance floor (not without much protest) for a while, stumbling around for a bit until he’s mercifully saved by a slow dance

it’s during the long-winded speeches that you get the idea. tomura looks as bored as you feel

so you tug on his hand and nod towards the back exit with a devious little grin 

the two of you sneak out of the hall, finally letting out a sigh and a laugh when you’re out of earshot 

you climb in the car and dress down, kicking your shoes off as tomura throws his tie and jacket in the backseat

“where to?” he asks, key in the ignition 

you lean back in your seat to smile at him, the moonlight shining through the window on his fair skin 

“anywhere. i feel like we could go anywhere.”

© kitkat13001 ★ do not copy/translate/repost dividers; sxmmerberries — event info + masterlist

thanks jade!! i had a lot of fun writing this one omg, the prompts n song are such a goated combo its so romcom to me heh >:) florist!tomura is the new love of my life <33

[c00ki3sandcr3am]

Feathered Sheets

Caleb x MC (Unnamed) | Smut +18

A/N: Hiii everyone! This story is written by my friend, she doesn’t post on here, but she wanted me to show everyone her story. The story was originally made with a name, but I changed it to MC, forgive me if I missed any name corrections. Caleb is my fave lads guy so expect to see more of him, (wedding banner story :p) written by me. Please don’t read if you are under 18!

Tags: Bird!Caleb, beast + human, biting kink, female + male genitalia, afab MC, yearning Caleb, height difference, Caleb w/dimples and freckles, MC with some specific features

Word Count: 2.8k

Caleb huffs his brown wings, stretching slowly as the sun shines through the nest he and his lover rest in. Leaning on his side, Caleb made sure to place one of his wings over the woman next to a clawed nail, tracing over her plush skin, a smile rising on his face, dimpling deeping.

He never expected a human to be his mate… well, they hadn’t marked each other yet, but she wore his feathers like she was his.

Why was he taking so long?

He often asked himself, he loved her- But she was a human, a small one at that, and he had to be careful. His claws could rip at her skin, and his bites could leave marks; he was worried about hurting her. That Mosterus' side taking over while he was on top of her was something he was sure she’d fear. And then that would end what they have, the shiniest feathers woven into her hair like a crown, she’d take each one out and leave this nest for a human. He couldn’t have that—

His talon-like nail trails down from her jawline to the skin of her neck that was covered in the gold and beads he made her… She was a spoiled lover, but Caleb didn’t mind, not one bit. His hand stretches over her neck, pupils sharp as he takes each and every reaction her body has to his touch. His thumb stroked the side of her neck as the hairs on her body stood up from the cold.

Then it trails to her collarbone and then down the middle of her sleeping form, the nightgown, white and useless, humans always had the need for unnecessary things. He could have ripped it to shreds long ago if he wanted, but he was trying to seem… civilized.

She let out a breath, her brows scrunching before she opened her eyes, shades of green and brown were always what Caleb saw, and then the browns of her eyelashes. “Good Morning, sleep well, MC?” It was always the first thing he said, and Caleb always knew her response.

”I…” MC quieted down before letting out a yawn, her eyes closing for a second as her hand covered her mouth, “I slept pretty good.”

”Just good?” he let out now leaning on his palm, his smile hurting his face.

She gave him a quick look, “It was amazing till your wing hit me in the middle of the night.”

Caleb let out a huff of air, leaning in and wrapping his arms around her, his marked body making a mix of scars and body ink, all of it showing his ranking in the village he and MC lived in together, “You’re so small I forget you're sleeping beside me.” his hand finds her cheek then brushes her hair, fixing her bangs, “maybe, you should sleep on top of me every night instead.”

MC smiles, her hand on his bicep, “I don’t think I could sleep like that, Caleb.”

”We could make it work-“ he chirps before shifting around, his large wings fluffing up, needing their morning brush after being closed for hours. A few loose feathers lay on the sheets as he was now on top of the woman, his head finding the area just between her shoulder and jaw, “Or we can sleep like this.” his hands slinked around her waist.

MC grunts at his weight, her face scrunching, “Caleb, your huge you can’t just roll around and then lay on me,” she started to relax a bit, her hand finding the area between his wings and slowly rubbing up and down his back, “I think if we tried this, I’d be dead the next day.” she jokes.

A low hum slips from his lips, eyes half open. Though he was fully awake, just being with MC like this made him want to curl up and rest for a little longer, “You wouldn’t be dead, maybe a little breathless.”

MC simply makes a face, Caleb not seeing her reaction but he knew her like he knew the inside of his wings, “don’t go making faces pretty lady, be honest…” he slowly sat up, his eyes on her, “You like it when I’m on top of you.”

MC takes a second to look at the Avian, the wings that resembled a falcon but had the patterns of a horned owl, his feathers were always well taken care of. She then felt her cheeks grow a little hotter. He was quite buff, his torso was wide and firm, a few scars and feathers planted into his skin. It was hard not to notice how his muscles were sculpted and curved, how they flexed and relaxed, and lastly, how his V-line was so just there.

He was almost hairless; his body didn’t need all of it like humans, and his wings, along with the feathers that were on his chest and the spine of his back, made his body extremely hot at times. MC couldn’t help but remember how a few months ago his shaggy brown hair was to his waist, but she sadly cut it off since ‘It was in the way’. Now he has had all of it shaped by MC herself, his hair right above his shoulder.

”What you lookin’ at?” he let out, tilting his head at MC, clearly seeing how her eyes moved from his face to his body.

MC looks away, “Do I really have to answer?” she mumbled and let out a gasp as Caleb lifts her by the waist, both were on their knees.

”I already know but would love to hear it from you,” he purrs out, his eyes on her as his clawed hand moves lower, feeling the shape of her body.

(Small time skip)

After their long day, Caleb helped MC down the large tree the next was in, to the village, and he guarded the forest. He was happy to be back with MC, lying in their large bed after a bath and a brush, her hand in his hair and wings. He lands on the outside of his house and then shakes out his wings before needing to bend under the door frame. When he made this place for MC and himself, he based it on humans and their heights.

MC, who was making a few new pillows from the last time she helped him with his preening, looks up, “Caleb, you're back a little early.” She smiles softly and stands up.

He nods and walks over, the talons of his feet softly tapping against the wood, “You still have feathers…” he picks up one of the finished pillows before leaning down, “You know we could go and get cotton from the humans.”

”Yeah, but… your feathers hold their shape and when they're not on your wings they stay cold in the hot weather,” she explains, and Caleb nods, not sure if he should be flattered or not

”Mmh… well, they look cute. The pillows.” his purple eyes moved from the plush pillow to MC, “Are you ready to take a bath?” It was always the first thing they did together when he’d get home.

The two got undressed after running the water and making sure it was hot. MC rested against his chest as he leaned into her, his wings fluttering slightly before relaxing. By habit, he drags his teeth along her neck, tempted to bite but kisses her shoulder instead.

MC was so used to it that she simply leaned closer, lifting her head with a smile on her lips. They kiss, it's slow and soft as his hand moves from her body under the water and to her hair, and he could hear how her heartbeat sped up from the blood rushing through her. Caleb pulls MC closer just to feel more of her wet skin against his, the water splashing out of the tub as he leans her against the wall.

MC gasps, her eyes closed as she tries to keep up with Caleb, a heavy breath leaving her as his hand cups her face, tilting it up as his tongue finds its way in. With a shudder, she accepted his lips pressing against one another in a sensual but rough kiss that ended in them pulling away, the string of saliva breaking as MC turned her head, the heat rising in-between them, making her chest tight and heavy.

Caleb shifts slightly, his free hand gripping her soft thigh, his claws almost digging into her skin. His eyes were foggy and half lidded as they darted up and down, happily feeding into his hunger. It was a struggle, resisting something like this; soft, weak, and in constant need of his help. The way MC's face flushed from her cheeks to her ears, how her lips were parted and a little swollen from his aggressive kiss.

Caleb let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, his shoulders slumping slightly as his body closed the gap between them. His bent knees shifted against the resin as he kept his eyes on MC, who was still trying to calm herself. Taking one more long look at her, his brows scrunched, and he bit the inside of his lip, almost till it bled. His second nature, wondering if she’d like a kiss covered with blood.

MC turned back, her face still flushed as before, as her hand followed the small brown feathers he had from the middle of his stomach to the full ones on his chest. The way she looked up at him and her small hand feeling his feathers, Caleb’s once lustful expression softened as he took her into his arms, carrying her out of the warm bath, chills running down both of their spines. The two softly kissed as he walked them to the plush bed, wet bodies on top of one another, his hand cupping her face.

“MC…” he whispered, letting out a breath of worry, excitement, and want all at the same time, “Are you sure you're ready?” his question wasn’t for her, but himself, as MC simply smiles

“I’ve been ready,”

He looked at her for a second, then two before leaning down, the plush sheets and pillows shifting under them as he kissed her neck, his slightly chapped lips making the woman shudder. His tongue felt and traced her collarbone down to her breasts. He could feel the way her breath hitched and how her chest rose, it making him eager for more, teeth softly nipping at her skin as heavy puffs leave his lips.

Cawled hands gripping at his lover's thighs before he parts them, her wet skin now dry as his touch drags along, making MC shift her gaze to his hand, seeing how his black talon traced between her folds, making her thighs tense up before she relaxed. Using his knuckles, he spread her open, leaning in, making sure MC stayed in place.

She blushed, her hand quickly moving to his shaggy hair, her thighs trying to close, but his head stopped them, “C… Caleb?” She slipped out before breaking out into a moan, her eyes closing as Caleb enjoyed the taste of her, his hand gripping her thigh, rubbing at her hip before feeling at her breast, her hand moving over his.

Caleb’s tongue slowly working up and down her clit making MC tense up and relax as her back arching. Her body unsure if she wanted him to keep going or never stop as she tries not to squeeze his head, even if it didn’t bother him. The sounds made her even more flustered as he was being slightly over the top when it came to his actions, acting as if she were his favorite thing on display. He pulls away after MC comes onto his tongue, his purple gaze sharp as he smiles, laying his head against her thigh with a sigh before moving up and into a kiss, making MC taste herself. Their tongues mixing as he moans, brows scrunching as he uses one hand to shift her lower half, grabbing one leg and lifting it over his shoulder. Quickly glancing down he grabs his stiff and hefty member, the tip flushed and wet as he smeers his shaft along her slit making MC flinch slightly.

He blushed even more, his ears burning up, along with his cheeks, his feathers ruffling from the rising excitement. Skin from his shaft drags down, revealing more of his head, and then he pushes the tip inside her warm, making MC whimper. Caleb glanced up, scanning her reaction, and stopped moving, his palm cupping MC’s face, making her look at him. MC’s eyes were closed, and her brows were knitted.

“MC…” He let out, leaning down to give her a soft kiss before continuing, “Look at me,” he pleaded, and with little convincing. She did as he asked both, leaning into each other. Her hand clenching the pillow, and the other feeling along the back of his neck as he shifts against her slowly, his chest feeling heavy as his wings spread and fluff out.

Their eyes not breaking from that long stare, MC’s expression changed as she was getting used to this heated exchange, her muscles relaxing as she couldn’t hold on to this long stare. MC’s eyes were losing their focus as her nails started to dig into his skin, the heat rising in her core clashing with the cold air around them, chills rolling down her spine as he let out a grunt, the space between them making them start to sweat.

Caleb could feel her walls tensing and relaxing each time he shifted in and out, a heavy moan leaving his lip, it coming from his chest.

It felt so intoxicating that he couldn’t help but let out a hiss of pleasure, his hips pressing against her with a slow roll before pulling away, both letting out a defeated huff. He looks down, and shifts MC from her side to her back, still wanting to see his beloved's face before starting up once again, biting at his lip as the angle felt different from before, and Caleb knew she could feel the difference too.

MC opens her legs more, Her hands romming from his shoulders to his waist with each thrust till then stop at his thighs, her head falling back as she couldn’t stop a loud moan from slipping out, gripping the fexing musles from his thighs her hands tried to pull him in, to keep him inside as she chokes out another moan. But Caleb simply placed his head between her neck and head, almost breathless as he took time to pull out, leaving the head inside before giving a deep and fulfilling pump making her legs tremble slightly, “Ngh, Ah… MC” he grumbled, his eyes closed tight as his wings stretched once again. His thrust was getting more and more erratic and a little rough as time went on. MC, being pinned under him, could only take what he gave as her eyes were barely closed, her mouth opened as she gasped for air.

He arched into her, his clawed hands, struggling not to rip at her soft skin so, the pillows were ripped at brown feathers of all sizes spilled from the fabric beside MC’s head

–The pillows didn’t matter anyway, she could always stitch them back up–

Caleb let out a shaky breath as his lips kissed roughly at her neck and shoulder, his tongue following the curve before he went and dragged his teeth, her walls fluttering once more singling another climax, and he couldn’t help but smirk as his hand cups the back of MC’s head, he then whispers against her ear, “Think you can last a little longer…” He gave slow yet deep thrusts that hit each sweet spot every time, his hand now at her neck, his thumb feeling along her jaw, “Just for me. Please, I know you can do it.”

MC, who could bearly open her eyes, nods before she could comprehend what he was saying, “Mmh..” He moves faster once again, not caring for the wet claps, or the heavy smell of sex in the air as it all messed with his senses in the best way, his wings fluttering and spreading open as his brows twitch, pleasure running down his body and back up as he twitch inside her, and he couldn’t stop himself from finding a place on her neck to quickly dig his teeth in the aggression matching the force of his orgasm. His teeth stayed in a little longer before he pulled them out, his face flushed, and heavy, hot breaths filled the air as he almost slumped onto MC before pulling out with a low grunt.

He leans to the side, switching spots with his lover, a hand on her back and then her hip, “Are you okay… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.” MC quickly but quietly said, her voice weak from the moans he forced out of her, “It was good, and… I want to do it again.” Caleb blushed and leaned his head on her, his wing resting against her small frame.

“I’m glad.”

[ambiguous-avery]

Of Seagulls and Angels

No Pairings | WC: 536

Summary: With his Grace back, Cas can’t enjoy sandwiches the same way he did when he was human. They just don’t taste the same. But that doesn’t mean he can’t find solace in perfecting the ideal PB&J. And it seems like others admire his ability as well.

Tags/Warnings: Crackfic, Cas doesn’t care for seagulls (quite honestly I don't either), no beta we die like men

A/N: I have so many fun ideas of Cas at the beach. It’s a real shame we never got to see it in canon. That’s why this challenge exists! They left it out of the show so us writers could fill in the blank! Hope y’all aren’t getting too sick of these snapshots because I’m having a blast! Summer Snapshot Challenge 2025 Masterlist

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Cas sat cross-legged on the beach towel, shoulders still and paper napkin spread carefully across his lap like he had seen Dean do a hundred times before. In his hands: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was his third attempt at putting together the ideal proportions of the fillings, and this one was by far his most symmetrical.

He was proud of it.

Or he was up until a sharp squawk overhead signalled the arrival of a feathered menace.

The seagull landed two feet in front of him, cocking its head with its laser-like focus honing in on the sandwich in the angel’s hands. Cas narrowed his eyes.

“This isn’t yours.” The bird hopped forward. “I said,” Cas began more firmly, holding the sandwich higher. “It isn't yours.”

The seagull lunged. Cas jerked backwards, startled at the audacity of the creature. Sand sprayed behind him at his sudden movement, and he awkwardly rose to his feet, one hand shielding his creation and the other lifting threateningly like he was ready to smite something much larger than a bird. “You dare?” he growled.

Dean glanced over from his own beach towel just in time to see Cas locked in a standoff with the seagull, sandwich clutched to the angel’s chest like a sacred relic.

“Cas?” he called out. “Everything okay over there?”

“This... rat with wings is attempting to steal my sandwich.” Cas’s eyes never left the gull as he spoke. Dean bit back a laugh.

“You know, you could always just give it a piece.”

“I made this,” he said with quiet conviction. “I used the correct bread-to-filling ratio. It is balanced.” Cas spoke like a man who was talking about something far more profound than a simple sandwich. The seagull screeched again and flapped its wings, bringing it airborne. Both Cas and Dean watched as it hovered close, and Dean pulled a chip from the bag in his hands before flicking it into the air like a coin.

The gull swooped down and caught it mid-flight with horrifying precision. Cas turned to look at him, eyes wide like he had been betrayed. “You’re feeding it?”

“I’m luring it. There’s a difference,” Dean said with a shrug. He threw another chip, this time further down the beach, and the gull fluttered after it instantly. Dean wiped his fingers on his swim trunks like he had just defused a bomb. “See? Tactical distraction. That’s how you win a fight.” Cas stared at the bag of chips then at Dean.

“You’re bribing the enemy.”

“Sun Tzu would be proud.” Dean popped a chip into his mouth.

“I do not know who that is,” Cas said flatly. “But he sounds morally flexible.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment.” Dean patted Cas on the shoulder, briefly shaking his head when his hand came in contact with the angel’s trench coat. Two more seagulls landed ten feet away, their beady eyes trained on the bag of chips Dean had in his hands. Dean froze. Cas narrowed his eyes.

“You’ve started a war.”

“Time to retreat.” Dean slowly crumpled the bag and grabbed Cas’s arm, jogging inland with him, seagull wings and feathers flapping in pursuit.

---

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[cellgatinbo]

“no one appreciates a slow burn anymore. be patient.”

“…that’s not an admission by the way. that’s not an admission-“ sure man whatever you say.

[steddieas-shegoes]

kaboom

for @steddieholidaydrabbles popup event prompt 'fireworks'

rated t | 896 words | cw: injury | tags: fireworks, established relationship, hurt/comfort, steve has ptsd

also on ao3

🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆

Steve doesn’t like fireworks, but at least he’s over the sheer panic he used to feel every time they went off. He usually stays inside when they happen, has music playing as a distraction. Last year, he managed to sit outside while Dustin and Mike set off a few small ones in his backyard.

This year, Eddie’s insisting on putting on a whole show. There’s not enough people in town to care about their illegal fireworks, and even if there were, Hopper would write it off. He made them swear they’d be careful and Eddie grinned as he held out his pinky and said he’d only explode things in an open space.

He’s timed everything to music. Steve is in charge of pressing play at the right time and switching tapes at Eddie’s cue. They practice with Eddie making loud explosion sounds and Steve manages to get it mostly right.

The kids are all sitting on towels in the yard, waiting for the show. All the adults are standing by the house, just in case they need to call 911 to put out a fire. Steve is watching Eddie walk through his set up one more time to make sure he has everything in the right place.

When it starts, everything is perfect. The kids clap and cheer. Even Hopper smiles and pulls Joyce close to him as they admire the first set of shimmering explosions.

Even the first song transition goes well, and Eddie gives him a wink and blows him a kiss. Steve rolls his eyes but pretends to catch it and holds it to his chest, just like he always does.

And then Eddie lights the second set.

It’s fine for the first second. Everything seems normal.

And then a loud pop echoes around them and Eddie yells out.

“Fuck!”

Steve stops the music immediately. No one else seems to think anything bad’s happened, but Steve knows that voice, that tone.

He hears it in nightmares: the pained yelp that comes just before too much blood and no help and-

“Eddie!” Max’s voice startles Steve from his panic. She’s standing, but El pulls her back down as Hopper rushes over to Eddie.

He’s watching Hopper check him over, frozen to his spot on the ground. He wants to move, wants to help. Whatever is happening can’t be good for Eddie to risk his show.

“He’s okay,” Joyce is saying quietly in his ear, her hand rubbing his back. “Burned his hand. The firework was faulty. He’s gonna be fine.”

He nods, but he still feels paralyzed.

At some point in the last year, he’s gotten comfortable. He hasn’t had to rush to defend his loved ones since El saved them all. The nail bat is so far back in his closet, he doesn’t even know if he can get to it.

But a nail bat won’t protect Eddie from a faulty firework. He knows that, but he’s still wracked with guilt.

“Steve. Baby.” Steve looks up to see Eddie holding a cold beer can to his hand. “I should probably get some ointment on the blisters and get a real ice pack. Can you help?”

“Yeah,” Steve chokes out. “Sorry. I can help.”

Hopper is standing just behind Eddie, giving him a sad smile. As Steve stands to accompany Eddie inside, he hears him telling the kids the show is over, but there’s plenty more popsicles and sodas to indulge in.

Once they’re in the bathroom, alone, Eddie kisses him softly.

“I’m okay,” he reassures. “Gonna leave a nasty scar on my thumb, but I don’t think another scar is gonna make much of a difference.”

Steve nods as he pulls out his first aid kit. He’s used to cleaning up blood, or icing a bruise, or pulling a stinger out of a hand or arm. This is different and he’s going in a little blind.

Eddie takes the ointment from the kit and holds it out to Steve. “This first. Use more than you think you should.”

“You seem to know a lot about how to handle burns,” Steve says as he does what Eddie told him to do. He still feels a little like he’s just going through the motions, but at least he can help. “Do this often?”

“Used to play with matches and lighters a lot as a kid. Nothing serious ever happened, but Wayne was usually at work so I had to figure it out.” Eddie hisses when Steve rubs along the edges of the blister. “This may be the worst one. Now gauze and wrap it tight.”

Eddie winces as Steve finishes up.

He kisses his hand gently, then shakes his head.

“Maybe we leave the fireworks to the professionals next year?” Steve asks him.

“But my show was gonna be so good!” Eddie stomps his foot. “I just have to check them all better first. This was a freak accident. Won’t happen again.”

Steve raises his brow and lets out a breath. “I don’t think I want you to risk it. You wanna go have a popsicle?”

Eddie smirks. “You just wanna see me licking something.”

Steve shrugs. “I’d love a distraction from what just happened and nothing gets me more distracted than your tongue.”

“Fine, but only if I get to use my tongue on you later,” Eddie winks and shuffles out of the bathroom.

[weaselishmcdiesel]

.

[rackartyg]

one of tinwë’s many endearing traits is how if i start singing or whistling, she will come find me no matter where she is and remain close to me, silent and staring, until i fall quiet. she’s done this her whole life and i don’t know why. is she concerned for me? does she like it?? either one is VERY cute

[deus-ex-mona]

rage is a ✨way of life✨

[azatas]

idk what i did to fuck up the algorithm but lately twitter thinks i’m a huge fan of kp*p, t*ylor sw*ft, ari*na gr*nde and s*lavell*n and none of that is true

[lion-buddy]

huh.