#hes 44 now. such an old man

[sweetsweetloverlover]

uhm happy birthday dean winchester btw. if u even care

[upsyturvyy]

forgot to post this for this fucker’s bday🫶🫶

[coldwind-shiningstars]

Re: blorbo from my research, here is my favorite ever case study. I'm obsessed with it.

Summary:

- Guy presents to neurology with muscle issues, very clearly has something going on but diagnostic tests are inconclusive

- History is mostly unremarkable. Key word, mostly. He drinks four liters of plain Earl Grey tea per day. For context this is nearly twice the recommended daily fluid intake. All fluids, to be clear, not just tea. He only drinks tea tho

- Bergamot is known to be phototoxic in high doses (reacts badly on your skin with sunlight)

- APPARENTLY nobody previously has consumed enough of it for it to be widely known that it is also, apparently, mildly toxic to ingest in high doses

- Guy starts drinking plain black tea again. Only 2 liters this time (he didn't have a medical reason to drink that much tea, he just liked it) and so now he's fully recovered

[news4dzhozhar]

Yasmin Porat, a survivor of the bloodshed at Kibbutz Be’eri, near the boundary with Gaza, says many Israeli civilians were killed by Israeli forces.

An Israeli woman who survived the Hamas assault on settlements near the Gaza boundary on 7 October says Israeli civilians were “undoubtedly” killed by their own security forces.

It happened when Israeli forces engaged in fierce gun battles with Palestinian fighters in Kibbutz Be’eri and fired indiscriminately at both the fighters and their Israeli prisoners.

“They eliminated everyone, including the hostages,” she told Israeli radio. “There was very, very heavy crossfire” and even tank shelling.

The woman, 44-year-old mother of three Yasmin Porat, said that prior to that, she and other civilians had been held by the Palestinians for several hours and treated “humanely.” She had fled the nearby “Nova” rave.

A recording of her interview, from the radio program Haboker Hazeh (“This Morning”) hosted by Aryeh Golan on state broadcaster Kan, has been circulating on social media.

Notably, the interview is not included in the online version of Haboker Hazeh for 15 October, the episode in which it apparently aired.

It may well have been censored due to its explosive nature.

Porat, who is from Kabri, a settlement near the Lebanese border, undoubtedly experienced terrible things and saw many noncombatants killed. Her own partner, Tal Katz, is among the dead.

However, her account undermines Israel’s official story of deliberate, wanton murder by the Palestinian fighters.

Although it no longer appears on the Kan website, there can be little doubt about the recording’s authenticity.

At least one Hebrew-language account posted part of the interview on Twitter, now officially called X, and accused Kan of functioning as “media in the service of Hamas.”

Porat also gave her account to the Israeli newspaper Maariv.

However, the Maariv story, published on 9 October, makes no specific mention of civilians being killed by Israeli forces.

And in a half-hour interview with Israel’s Channel 12 on Thursday, Porat speaks of intense gunfire after Israeli forces arrived. Porat herself received a bullet in the thigh.

Not only does Porat tell Kan that Israelis were killed in the heavy counterattack by Israeli security forces, but she says she and other captive civilians were well treated by the Palestinian fighters.

Porat had been attending the “Nova” rave when the Hamas assault began with missiles and motorized paragliders. She and her partner Tal Katz escaped by car to nearby Kibbutz Be’eri where many of the events she describes in her media interviews took place.

According to Porat speaking to Maariv, she and Katz initially sought refuge in the house of a couple called Adi and Hadas Dagan. After the Palestinian fighters found them they were all taken to another house, where eight people were already being held captive and one person was dead.

Porat said that the wife of the dead man “told us that when they [the Hamas fighters] tried to enter, the guy tried to prevent them from entering and grabbed the door. They shot at the door and he was killed. They did not execute them.”

“They did not abuse us. They treated us very humanely,” Porat explained to a surprised Golan in the Kan radio interview.

“By that I mean they guard us,” she said. “They give us something to drink here and there. When they see we are nervous they calm us down. It was very frightening but no one treated us violently. Luckily nothing happened to me like what I heard in the media.”

“They were very humane towards us,” Porat said in her Channel 12 interview. She recalled that one Palestinian fighter who spoke Hebrew, “told me, ‘Look at me well, were not going to kill you. We want to take you to Gaza. We are not going to kill you. So be calm, you’re not going to die.’ Thats what he told me, in those words.”

“I was calm because I knew nothing would happen to me,” she added.

“They told us that we would not die, that they wanted to take us to Gaza and that the next day they would return us to the border,” Porat told Maariv.

In the Channel 12 interview, Porat elaborates that although the Palestinian fighters all had loaded weapons, she never saw them shoot captives or threaten them with their guns.

In addition to providing the captives with drinking water, she said the fighters let them go outside to the lawn because it was hot, especially as the electricity was cut.

[lxkeee]

HEAVEN AND BACK !

—Lucifer Morningstar x Alastor's Mom! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Romance

Warnings: Love at first sight, fast paced romance and mentions of domestic ab*se.

Notes: to the anon who requested the platonic Alastor x Mom! Reader it would be part of this:)

Synopsis: In which Alastor's mother went down to hell to oversee the hotel's progress and met the king of hell.

Word count: 4.6k words

PART TWO | NAVIGATION

[Y/n] lived a good and honest life, a simple housewife with one son. After finally separating with her abusive husband, her life with her son, Alastor had become better. Alastor promised that he'll support her through his radio hosting, the boy has become quite popular amongst the folks—with his wits and charm, he was able to make a reputation for himself and earn money better for him and her.

[Y/n] was finally happy, proud of what she and her son have accomplished. She doesn't have to worry about her ex-husband coming home to hurt her or her son.

After the divorce, not a few weeks later, her husband was found dead with several of his body parts missing. She and her son were questioned about it but nothing could connect them to the crime and was proven innocent.

Alastor comforted her about it, promising to protect her if the killer ever hurt her. Which calmed her down as the whole situation did affect her, despite her harboring hatred towards her ex-husband, she felt bad he got murdered in a brutal way possible.

Peace and happiness didn't last long for her unfortunately, some fight happened in the city when she was out for an errand and she got in the middle of the crossfire, getting herself shot twice—on her shoulder and one in her stomach. She bled to death.

[Y/n] briefly remembers a tall black haired man walking towards her, black wings on his back while carrying a large golden scythe on his hand.

“[y/n] [l/n], age is 44 years old, destination is heaven.” the man says with an amused tone in his voice. A smile found its way to her lips, this must be death then? I am sorry Alastor, I can no longer watch over you. She thought sadly, and then suddenly darkness.

[Y/n] woke up with a gasp, her eyes staring at the bright blue skies. Blinking, disoriented about what just happened. She looked at her side to see clouds, clouds everywhere. Even the ground she's lying on is clouds.

“Where... Am I...?” she mutters as she sits, finally turning around to see the gates that are shining ever so brightly, the radiant rays of the sun reflecting against the golden gate.

“Am I... In heaven...?” she asked herself softly, eyes widening as she remembers what happened. The fight in the city, getting shot—twice, bleeding to death.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, as the reality that she died finally settled in. “No, no, no, no, no!” she said to herself, her hands covering her mouth to stop herself from crying. Her smile now lowering, already tired of keeping it up. She was the one who taught her son to always smile in any situation, but this...? She can't keep it up any longer. So she cried, hysterically. Her cries echoing throughout the skies.

She's dead, that means she won't see her son ever again. Her son will be alone, she can't be there for him!

It took a while for her to finally calm down, with a shaky breath she got off the cloudy grounds and approached the gate. An angel sitting behind the counter at the side of the gate is what she saw.

“Welcome to heaven, can I get your name please?” the man says with a smile, [y/n] stood there nervously, “[y/n] [l/n].” she says softly and watched as the male flipped through his thick book, “[y/n] Alberich, [y/n] Gunnhildr, [y/n] Lawrence [y/n] Kreideprinz, [y/n] Ragnvindr...” the angel mutters as he flips through his book, [y/n] stood awkwardly as she watches him.

The angel's finger finally stopped at a name and his smile became brighter, “Aha! There it is, [y/n] [l/n]... Please, come inside. I Saint Peter, officially welcome you to heaven.” the angel also known as Saint Peter says with a smile, the gates of heaven opening up for her.

[Y/n] nodded and hesitantly walked to the gate, passing by it and finally got inside the heavenly city.

Her new life after death. She hopes her son will join her here when his time comes, for now, she'll enjoy her new life.

It has been a few years, decades even. Still no sign of Alastor, she wonders if Alastor was gifted with a long life, something she didn't have? After getting inside heaven, they are not allowed to check up on their remaining loved ones on earth as they are not allowed to and [y/n] respected that, she'll wait for her son to join her here. She does miss her son, she wonders how he's doing, especially after her death. She can't imagine the pain he felt after her passing. She wonders if he's in purgatory if that place ever exists, she prays that her beloved son isn't in hell. Not her Alastor.

During her time here, she somehow became a well respected angel, becoming a seraphim angel and helping around heaven, overseeing important matters around the heavenly realm. [Y/n] befriended another seraphim angel named Emily, the girl is wonderful to be around with! Very positive and such a kind girl. [Y/n] enjoys having her around.

Recently, a secret has just been revealed during a court meeting with hell's princess, the daughter of Lucifer Morningstar, [y/n] read about him and she believes that the angel didn't do anything wrong, just misunderstood but this belief is something she keeps to herself, in fear of the others throwing her out for that small reason.

All throughout the trial Charlotte Morningstar expressed valid arguments, showing that souls can really improve their ways.

It was revealed that the exorcists were going down to hell to cleanse them, a sugar coated word for killing. The fact that Sera agreed to it was ridiculous but [y/n] can't do anything about it, she is just a mortal soul after all. She can't argue with the high seraphim and risk herself getting thrown out of heaven.

[Y/n] can only pray that Charlie's plan will work.

After that meeting, [y/n] can sensed that high ranking angels trust on Sera significantly lowered.

[Y/n] and Emily spent most of their free time researching, finding ways to help Charlie achieve her dreams for her people.

It has been a day since the cleansing started, [y/n] was in the seraphim office together with Sera and Emily doing important paperwork when suddenly a bright light fills the room and out emerged a familiar snake they [y/n] saw during the court meeting when Charlie was showing Angel Dust, she could briefly remember this snake man to be one of Angel Dust's and Charlie's friend. The one who announced he'll have sex with everyone at the club, she definitely didn't forget about that. The only difference is that the man's color themes changed.

“Huh? Wha...? Where am I?” he says as he looks around the unfamiliar place.

[Y/n] covers her mouth in disbelief while Emily squeaked beside her, turning around to look at the other two seraphim, Sera was in disbelief, [y/n] can't tell what the older woman is feeling right now.

Turning back to look at the new guest, [y/n] gave the man a small wave and the man gave her an awkward smile while waving back, “Oh... Hello!” he says and [y/n] giggles and Emily squeaks beside her.

“Hi! Welcome to heaven!” Emily cheers, the man's eyes widened. “I'm in heaven...?” he says in disbelief and [y/n] nodded, “Yes, this is heaven and you're currently in the office of the Seraphims. It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Pentious or dare I say... Sir Redemptious?” [y/n] says with a small and gentle chuckle, chuckling at her own joke. Emily giggled at the joke while Sera remained flabbergasted.

Sir Pentious blinks in confusion, “You know me?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Emily nodded, a bright smile on her face, “Yes! But it is a long story.” she says with a large smile.

“But first, let us introduce ourselves.” [y/n] says with a small smile, a smile that seems awfully familiar to Sir Pentious but less... Threatening.

[Y/n] clears her throat, “It is an honor to meet you, Sir Pentious. I am [y/n] [l/n] one of the seraphims.” she introduces and Emily follows after, “Hi! I am Emily but you can call me Em, Emmy, Ly... It is a pleasure to meet you!” Emily says excitedly, approaching Sir Pentious' side and admiring him, circling him and taking in his new appearance.

“And this,” [y/n] says, extending her arms towards Sera, “This is Sera, the head Seraphim.” [y/n] says which snapped Sera out of her thoughts. Sera cleared her throat, finally back to her authoritative self.

“Greetings, Sir Pentious. I am Sera, the head Seraphim. I would like to formally welcome you to heaven, I hope you'll enjoy your stay.” Sera says and Emily nodded excitedly while [y/n] just gave a small nod with a gentle smile on her face.

“I'm not dreaming...?” Sir Pentious says in disbelief and [y/n] shook her head, “I can assure you that you are not dreaming right now.”

Emily tilts her head in confusion, finally realizing something. “How come he arrived immediately here and not at the gates...?” she asked and [y/n] hummed, she too was baffled by this, placing a hand on her chin as she began to think.

“Perhaps... He's another Seraphim?” [y/n] asked, snapping her fingers and she smirked as she noticed Sera's eye twitches. Interesting... [Y/n] thought, a subtle smirk on her face, finding the situation interesting.

“How about I show you around? I'll let the grownups handle your stay here.” Emily says, Sir Pentious looked at the girl, “I hope that my egg bois are here.” he says with glassy eyes and Emily let's out a small 'aweee' and patting the back of the man, “I am sure they are here.” Emily says as she pulls the man out of the office.

[Y/n] turned to look at Sera, a mischievous grin on her face. Sera sighs, a frown on her face. “Don't say it.” Sera muttered and [y/n] chuckles, “What...? I am not saying anything yet.” she says with a mischievous tone. Sera rolls her eyes at the woman.

“I was in the wrong, the hotel does work.” Sera says, disbelief that it does. “[y/n]. I want you to go down there and make sure that the hotel runs smoothly.” Sera says and [y/n]  blinked, confused on what the woman was planning, “Why me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her smile not leaving her face.

“Just do it.” Sera deadpans and [y/n] shrugs, still has a small smile on her face, “Alright, whatever the boss says.” she shrugs.

“Make sure it runs smoothly but don't tell them he's here, I fear it will influence the sinners. I want them to work hard for it, and work hard for something that they are unsure of.” Sera says, walking out of her table, walking across the room and stood in front of the window, gazing outside the office of the Seraphims.

[Y/n] looked at the woman's back, Sera's wings neatly folded behind her. [Y/n] nodded in agreement, understanding where she's coming from.

“Understood, when shall I start?” [y/n] asked, tilting her head in confusion.

“Next week, let them rebuild the hotel. Do you understand your mission, [y/n]?” Sera says, turning around to look at her, [y/n] kneels down gracefully, a hand over her heart.

“Affirmative.” [y/n] says softly and Sera nodded, “Good.”

[Y/n]'s head peaked through the small gap of Sir Pentious' door as she opens it, her eyes soften as she sees Emily and Sir Pentious talking and multiple egg boys asleep on the bed. Knocking to catch their attention, the two looked at the very tall angel woman standing by the door, a gentle smile on her face.

“Hello, Sir Pent. I hope you're comfortable with your new room. I see that Emi is warming up to you which isn't surprising.” [y/n] giggles and Emily smiles and nodded excitedly.

“Speaking of [y/n], she's like a mom to everyone! She's so nice, I hope you two will get along!” Emily says happily, [y/n] presumes that Emily was talking about other angels before she came inside the room. [Y/n] smiles and gives the two a gentle nod, “That is me, if you have any problem... Feel free to approach me okay?” [y/n] says with a closed eyed smile, Sir Pentious eyes sparkled and a small blush on his cheeks as he could literally feel the gentle warmth of the woman.

[Y/n] just smiles and tilts her head before looking at Emily, “Anyways, I just came to check up on you two on how you two are doing. I'll be leaving now, you two have fun okay?” [y/n] says softly and Emily nodded, “Okay! I'll see you later Miss [y/n]!” Emily says and then Sir Pentious nodded and gave a wave to the woman. The two watched the older and taller woman leave the room.

[Y/n] walks away from Sir Pentious' room, walking past multiple doors that decorated the hallway—these are rooms that souls occupy and sooner, Sir Pentious' room will be upgraded since the man is a seraphim after all.. Entering the elevator, [y/n] presses a button—a button to her floor. The door closes.

[Y/n] sighs as she feels the elevator moving upwards, her mind buzzing with multiple thoughts. Taking mental notes on what to bring for her time in hell, she'll have to oversee the hotel after all.

The door opens, [y/n] steps out of the elevator, walking past by multiple doors (but the doors are much lesser than the floor Sir Pentious was in), these hallways are the rooms of the Seraphims.

Her feet stopped, coming to a halt. Holding the doorknob, the symbol of the doorknob glows, signifying that the owner of the room returned and in turn, and unlocked the door.

Stepping inside, she closes the door behind her. Time to pack.

Timeskip a few days later.

[Y/n] stood at the opposite side of Sera's table, her hands holding her luggage, Sera the high Seraphim sat on her seat looking at the taller woman. Emily standing beside Sera, the smaller girl looked at [y/n] with a slight worried look but still had a smile on her face. [Y/n] is proud that Emily continuously applied her teachings, you're never fully dressed without a smile, as what she always tells the girl.

“Goodluck, Miss [y/n]!” Emily says with a grin on her face, [y/n] chuckles at the girl's enthusiasm and nodded nonetheless.

“Do not disappoint us.” Sera says, [y/n]'s eyes narrowed slightly but her smile never faltered. [Y/n] nodded, a charming tone in her voice, “No promises.” she says with a grin and Sera rolls her eyes and then snaps her fingers, opening a portal for the taller angel.

[Y/n] waved goodbye at the two and stepped into the portal.

The bright blue scenario was replaced with a dark red one, a door was in front of her, a glass tinted door depicting apples and snakes.

Placing down her luggage, she curls up her fingers and then knocks on the door.

Loud knocks were heard against the tinted glass doors of the hotel, the sounds momentarily cutting off the conversation the hotel dwellers were having.

Angel Dust raises his eyebrows as he looks at the door, Husk stopping midway of drying up a freshly cleaned glass. Niffty just resumes cleaning the lobby of the hotel, Vaggie and Charlie were on the couch with Charlie's head on Vaggie's lap, Cherri is passed out drunk on the counter of the mini bar, and Alastor was just grinning as he sat on the cushioned chair.

Getting off Vaggie's lap, Charlie Morningstar walked towards the door, getting a very strong sense of deja vu. Opening it and seeing a very tall smiling angel looking down on her, a familiar angel that she saw when she had the court meeting in heaven, she remembers that this woman stood at the opposite side of Emily. Charlie never got to actually meet her or know her.

“Good eveni—” the angel started but was cut off as Charlie closed the door.

Turning around to look at her friends, a look of disbelief on her face. There's an angel in her front door, there is a SERAPHIM ANGEL IN HER FRONT DOOR.

“Vaggie?” Charlie calls out to her girlfriend nervously, Vaggie gave her a raised eyebrow, “What?” she asked.

“There's a seraphim angel at the door.” Charlie says, pointing towards the door. This promptly made everyone freeze.

“Oh my fucking god... I swear, what do they want this time..?” Angel sighs loudly, Vaggie standing up and getting her angelic weapon.

Charlie took a deep breath and opened the door once more, the same tall angel looking down on her with a gentle smile on her face, “May I speak now?” she asked and Charlie nodded nervously with a smile, the angel laughed, though she is experiencing major deja vu at the moment, “Relax, I am not here to cause trouble. Keep smiling darling, you're never fully dressed without one~!” she says with a giggle and Charlie nervously puts a smile on her face.

“Hi... My name is Charlie and you are...?” Charlie introduces herself shyly, a little flustered. The woman was very gorgeous and... Tall...

The angel shakes the girl's hand enthusiastically, “I know, my name is [y/n], it is a pleasure to meet you, Princess Morningstar.” [y/n] says with a giggle but quickly stopping as an angelic spear was pointed at her, Vaggie muttering something in Spanish underneath her breath.

“What is a seraphim angel doing here? Last time I checked, you guys hated us.” Vaggie sneers and [y/n] just smiled, using her pointer finger to push away the spear gently away from her, “Hate you...? No, no, no dearie... It's just Sera, she's... How to say it... An old time bitch.” [y/n] deadpans with a chuckle.

Charlie and Vaggie blinked at her words, in disbelief at how a seraphim can easily say something like that quite easily.

[Y/n] flicked her hand dismissively, “Ugh, I don't like her that much.” she sighs and chuckles, her eyes returning back to look at the two shorter girls.

“Let us forget about her for a moment, the reason I am here is that Sera wanted me to oversee the hotel and keep track if it makes any progress.” [y/n] explained, her pointer finger pointed up as she nodded to herself.

Vaggie narrows her eyes at her but decides not to question it but still held some suspicion of the woman. Vaggie thought that the angel reminds her of someone, but who?

Charlie just looked at the woman, in disbelief that Heaven changed its mind. Though, she too held some slight suspicion but decided not to think too much of it, moving to the side to allow the woman to pass through the tinted glass doors of the hotel.

“Very well then, please come in.” Charlie says and [y/n] gave the girl a curt bow and invited herself in.

[Y/n] admired the interior of the hotel, her eyes sparkling in admiration as she appreciates the design of the building. The interior is filled with so many red, white, gold, and black hues—a contrast to what she was used to in heaven. Charlie closes the door behind them and starts leading the taller woman back to the lobby.

“My, this hotel is very beautiful.” [y/n] says genuinely as she follows the shorter girls as they lead her towards the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel.

Finally arriving at the lobby where the other hotel members were staying, [y/n] surveyed each one of them carefully. The man who resembled a red deer oddly reminded her of someone.

Alastor was quite interested in who the person Charlie was talking to by the door.

His eyes widened, his smile faltering slightly as he saw the woman he's long last seen and the most he has missed.

“Everyone, heaven decided to send someone to oversee the hotel's progress. This is [y/n], she is a seraphim. I hope you treat her with respect.” Charlie says with a small smile. The name makes Alastor's ears ring.

He couldn't stop himself as the words left his lips, “Mother...?” Alastor says with wide eyes and a smile still on his face.

Silence.

Angel Dust's and Husk's jaw dropped. Seeing a new facial reaction of the always smiling man.

[Y/n]'s eyes widened as she covered her mouth with her hands, she was right. Why was he here? Why was her beloved son here in hell?

“Alastor...? My sweetie is that you...?” [y/n] asked shakily, her hands trembling, in disbelief.

Alastor hesitantly nodded, nervous. He didn't expect to reunite with her. How can he explain this to her? How can he explain the reason why he ended in hell?

“No fucking way...” Angel Dust muttered, in disbelief.

Tears began to stream down [y/n]'s cheeks as she let go of her luggage and quickly hugged her son, he looked so different.

“My sweet son, it really is you... Why are you here?!” She asked, cupping Alastor's face comfortingly. Alastor avoided her gaze.

“Mother... It has been awhile, I have done things that lead me down here.” Alastor explained calmly, a smile still on his face but he is fighting back tears. He missed her so much, after her death he was miserable. He found out the reason she died and killed the two men who caused her death.

[Y/n]'s eyes soften and she placed a gentle kiss on her son's forehead, Alastor instinctively closing his eyes at the contact. Warmth, he forgot what comforting warmth felt like.

“Now, now... I'm sure it couldn't be that bad...?” [y/n] says with a small chuckle and failing to notice the other hotel members giving each other a side eye.

Well... It was fun being an overlord. Alastor thought to himself as he took a deep breath and began to explain it to his mother, the reason why he's in hell.

“ALASTOR [L/N] WHAT IN HEAVEN'S NAME DO YOU MEAN YOU KILLED PEOPLE?!” [Y/n] seethes as she chases after her son, holding her shoe in her hand. Alastor trying to save his own life from his seething mother.

“Mother I can explain—!”

The others just watched as the angelic woman chased the most terrifying demon they know around the hotel.

“This is so fucking funny.” Cherri mutters beside Angel Dust, Husk having a smirk on his face as he watches his boss getting chased around by his mother.

“Well... I hope they'll stop soon or dad will come down to see what the ruckus is about.” Charlie says, nervous that they are causing too much ruckus. She knows her dad needs the quiet time to make his rubber duckies.

Lucifer was in his room writing something on his desk, he just finished making a rubber duckie sometime ago and now he's currently writing plans for the hotel.

Well... Trying to.

His eye twitched as he heard the loud ruckus happening downstairs. With a sigh, he lets go of his fountain pen. Standing up from his seat, curious on what is happening downstairs, he left his room and went downstairs.

What the king of hell didn't expect to see was the annoying radio demon getting scolded by... An angel? And good lord, she's... Tall. Though, he couldn't see her face as her back was facing him.

“I thought I raised you better than this? Good heavens, I thought you were better than this?” the woman sobs and leans against the radio demon, sobbing into his shoulder while Alastor hesitantly comforts her. Lucifer was trying not to laugh as the radio demon gave him the middle finger.

“Who's this?” Lucifer asked and his daughter nervously approached him, “Well, this is [y/n] and heaven thought it would be a good idea to send someone to oversee our progress of the hotel.” Charlie explains and Lucifer's eyebrows are raised in confusion, confused on what changed their mind.

“I am truly sorry mother, it won't happen again,” Alastor says softly, still smiling while his mother lets go of him and flicks the radio demon's forehead making the taller man yelp in pain.

Charlie smiled and clapped her hands together, “Miss [y/n], this is my father and you might as well know him as Lucifer Morningstar.” Charlie says and the woman turns around to look at them.

And oh my devil, none of these thoughts are in the bible.

Lucifer thought as he finally took a good look at the very tall angel. She's gorgeous. Very gorgeous. The white dress she was wearing perfectly captured her figure, complimenting her skin. Her halo glowing above her head like the rays of the sun shining down on her. Absolutely divine. Lucifer blinks, trying to comprehend the beauty of the woman in front of him.

Angel Dust looking at him with a smirk, without him realizing.

[Y/n]'s eyes sparkled, quickly shoving Alastor away as she approached the shorter man, “Oh my stars, really? It's an honor to meet you, I've read about you and quite frankly I don't believe you got the justice you deserved.” [y/n] explains, she has to kneel down as her neck was starting to hurt at looking down.

Lucifer's eyes widened, surprised that an angel held him in such high regard.

“Wait... Huh??” Lucifer says in disbelief making the woman chuckle, and goodness, even her laugh sounds so beautiful.

“I am grateful that you gave us free will, if it weren't for you... Humans couldn't control their own fate, their own actions and for that, thank you.” she says sincerely and unexpectedly, a single tear streamed down Lucifer's cheek. Nobody really cared to say their thanks to him, he just assumed that humanity hated him for his actions, as heaven hated him for it. To see and hear someone say their thanks to him for the first time, may have healed some wounds he was desperately trying to heal with a bandaid.

The angel panicked when she saw the tear, “Oh my stars! Did I offend you?! Oh gosh, I didn't mean to.”

Lucifer began to chuckle and laugh. Amused at the woman's personality.

Charlie wonders if her dad finally went insane.

“Since when did angels be so nice to me?” Lucifer asked in-between chuckles, finally calming down as he offered his hand for a handshake.

“My name's Lucifer, darling. It's a pleasure to meet you...?” Lucifer says with a toothy grin but his charm and confidence were replaced by shyness and embarrassment as the angel opted to kiss his knuckles instead.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lucifer. I am [y/n], a seraphim angel.” she says with a smile, almost smirking, her tone almost sensual.

Lucifer was flabbergasted, flustered. Blinking animatedly, his mind is still trying to comprehend what just happened. So many things are happening at once, the warmth of his cheeks, the loud thumping of his heart against his own ribcage, he prays that she couldn't hear it.

Angel Dust nudges Charlie, giving the girl a knowing smirk. Charlie just gave him a confused look, unsure what he meant, saying something to angel along the lines of, my dad's reaction is valid, have you seen her?

The apple doesn't really fall far from the tree, Angel Dust thought as he cackles in amusement.

Alastor's eyes narrowed slightly at the interaction. Vaggie cautious at the radio demon's reaction.

Well, this is interesting. Husk thought to himself, already prepared of the chaos that's going to happen now with an additional member of the hotel.

TAGLIST:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @yukichan67 @apple-pop @akiralovespenguins @storydays @kaurochika @amphiroxx @lil-writer-523 @punching-pentagrams @moonlovers34

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny as a Historical Badass

So, I'm sure you have all heard at least one story about those Badasses in History, the ones who are basically Legends at this point, right?

Like Simo Hayha, the White Death. The legendary Finish Sniper who managed to get 505 Confirmed Kills in less than 100 days, and an additional 200 kills with a Sub Machine Gun.

Or Mad Jack Churchill, the Craziest Commando. The guy who went to War with a Bow and a Broadsword, inflicting the last Archery Fatality in British Military History. He and his single partner also managed to raid a Village and capture 44 unsuspecting Soliders.

I want Danny to be seen in history in the same way they were.

If we go with the AU where the events of the Show happened in the Early 1900's, Danny would reach Eligibility just in time for both World Wars.

I want one of the Batfamily Members to run across a Video online of "Roman Helmet Guy" on Tiktok talking about Danny with that Badass Music in the Background.

Like, Danny is known as the Insane Solider of WW1/WW2. The guy who somehow managed to capture entire Platoons singlehandedly. The Guy who raided Enemy Camps in the Dead of night and managed to capture High Ranking Commanders on his own. The Guy that survives life threatening wounds like it's nothing MULTIPLE TIMES, and is somwhow back on the battlefield within the hour.

Some people speculate that he was an early Metahuman, but nobody can confirm because he hasn't been seen in decades. Some people.think he must be dead by now.

And then the Batfam member does a double take because, That's Old Man Danny.

Thats the old guy who runs their favorite Cafe. He must be well over 100 years old by now, but he looks like he's in his early 70's.

And doesn't Alfred frequent that Cafe?

Yes, he does. Alfred and Danny are old War Buddies.

Idk where this is going, I feel braindead right now.

I just wanted Danny to be seen as a Historical Legend because I was binging 'Roman Helmet Guy's videos and thought of this.

Wait, wasn't Diana in WW1? Like, in the movie at least she fought in WW1, so what if she met Danny during that time? What if she wasn't the only one to rush into No-Mans Land during that action scene in the Movie?

Diana shows up in Gotham and just says, "Oh no need to worry, I'm just visiting an old Friend."

Also, I recommend watching videos on Simo Hayha, he is such a badass.

[saturnville]

do you want to, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x black best friend oc (anvika dawson) content: in which two friends cross a line people have been waiting for them to cross...and it works out. warning: 18+ content, angst, fluff, heavy dialogue song: do you want to by xscape an: part one here. part two here. their story is complete. thank you for reading <3 tags: @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @ggaslyp1 @neeville

They hadn’t spoken in over a month. A bridge seemed to find its way between them. Not finding their way back to one another was unlike them. Most disagreements lasted at most three days. But, for there to have been 30 days of silence had her questioning if they’d come back from what they went through. 

But, after a much-needed therapy session, a cry session with Onyx, and deep reflection, Anvika realized that space was the best thing she could give him. She was challenged to put herself in his shoes and that changed her perspective entirely. 

“I want you to think from his perspective, Anvika,” her therapist began. She was an older Black woman with rich skin and silver hair. Her eyes were like honey and her voice was warm like the hug of an old church mother. “If you had feelings for him, right, whether you admitted them or not, and there came a time where the dam that contained all the feelings, emotions, thoughts, what have you, had broken and he was willing to drown in it all, just to turn around and downplay what occurred not even 12 hours later, how would you feel?” 

Ouch. Having it repeated to her without bias struck her uncomfortably. Anvika twisted her lips as she pondered long and hard. How would she feel? Rejected? Embarrassed? Used? Maybe all of the above. 

“What are you thinking about?” her therapist, Traci, asked. “And it doesn’t have to come out perfect or sound. Say how you feel.” 

Suddenly, her chest heaved as her breaths grew deeper. Her tongue circled her teeth and her eyes welled with tears. “I love him. I always have, in one way or another. But, I cherish what we’ve got and I just don’t—“ she sighed deeply. “I’m afraid for it to be ruined and I lose another man that I love.” 

Traci hummed. “So, you love him. Always have, you’ve built a good friendship with him, which could be a solid foundation for a potential romantic relationship, which he seemingly wants, but you’re afraid that it would go wrong and you’d lose him. What else are you afraid of?” 

“Just…that I won’t be more than a body to keep his bed warm. That’s why my ex and I split. Sure, we were together, but he was more invested in sex than he was in cultivating and strengthening our relationship. Intimacy is important, but only being desired for your body does something to a girl. I don’t want that…and so I’m afraid of being nothing more than a warm body. And now I’m upset because I teetered on my boundaries which were no sex with anyone that wasn’t my significant other. I don’t have a significant other, Traci. I have a best friend…or had.” 

Anvika’s voice shook as she spoke. She fiddled with the necklaces stacked around her neck. 3 gold necklaces—Queen Nefertiti, a heart, and the number 44. Traci’s eyes followed her hands. “What’s 44 stand for?” 

Anvika’s hands stalled. Her voice was quiet: “It’s his racing number. He races today.”

“You wear it often?” 

Anvika nodded. 

“Why?” Traci pressed, pushing her glasses above her head. 

“It helps me feel close to him when he’s away. He’s always away.” 

Another hum came from Traci. “Does he wear anything that represents you?” 

It was small. A simple word on his neck was often hidden by his braided hair. Completion. The definition of her name. He’d gotten it a year prior and never told her until she was helping him take his braids down and noticed the fresh ink there. Her heart grew three sizes that day. 

Anvika swallowed thickly. “My name means strong and complete. He has completion tattooed on his neck.”

Traci chuckled in amusement. Breakthrough was happening. 

“Sounds to me that the relationship the two of you have goes deeper than you’d like to admit. You shouldn’t beat yourself over the night you shared with him. We all have moments where we teeter-totter. And even though you didn’t want to, you did. But not only did you do it, you did it with a man who cherishes you, who honors you, who respects you. He is still your closest friend, but who is to say that your lover shouldn’t first be your friend? The choice is yours and I will walk with you through whatever decision you make. Just take the time to think about it, Anvika.” 

She’d thought about it every day since. 

+

Misery wasn’t a state he found himself in often, let alone one that he allowed himself to bask in. He was a firm believer in not allowing his circumstances to permanently alter his mood; his actions proved that he wasn’t the believer he thought he was. 

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. His words were more limited than usual. His animations were not quite animated. He was going through the motions day by day, a boring routine that grew exhausting. He was better than this and he knew it. But, his usual methods of taking a run, spending time with loved ones, and giving in to his sweet tooth didn’t help. If anything, they made him feel worse. All because they were activities they did together. It seemed as though his entire life was attached to her and it drove him mad. 

He didn’t think there’d be a day where his mood would be affected by his disconnect from her. And it manifested physically. Lewis was tired often, which was a symptom of the fast-paced lifestyle, but for it to show in his eyes and the slowness of his movements was a clear indication that he was not okay. 

Lewis sighed into his pillow as his phone dinged once again. If he could throw it away, he would. His eyes glanced at the screen. Ani. The fourth message he’d received from her and the fourth time he wouldn’t reply. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t have much to say.

You raced well, it read. I hope you’re doing well…I hope we cross paths again when you’re ready. 

He grappled with responding. His heart yearned to speak with her but his mind overpowered his ability to pick up the phone. What would he respond with? Thanks, not ready to see you because you hurt my heart and made me feel rejected. Talk soon. He’d be damned. 

He did a double-take after a moment. You raced well. She watched? His heart twisted. She attended every race she could, amid screaming fans jumping for joy. He could still hear her strained voice chanting his name when he walked on the track. 

“Lewis!” 

His conversation with the gentleman ahead of him was stopped. The racer apologized graciously and turned to see Anvika at the top of the bleachers waving excitedly. It was her first international race and she was over the moon to be there. He chuckled and beckoned her down. 

She shuffled through the bleachers and was soon guided by a security guard to where he stood. She smiled widely. “So, how do you feel?” Her hands grabbed his own and squeezed. She was about to burst. 

“I feel good,” he said with a smile. “How do you feel?” 

“I’m so excited! I hardly ever leave the country unless it’s for business, so to be here and supporting you--so exciting!” The small bounce she did had the jewelry around her neck bobbing. His eyes dropped to her exposed collarbone--Nefertiti, a gold heart, and the number 44. Bright and shiny like it was brand new. His eyebrow raised. “That new?” His finger curled around the chain, tugging softly. The action had her stumbling toward him. 

“Oh, this?” she quipped. “Yeah. I’m not too much of a jersey girl but I couldn’t come without repping you at all. My hat’s up there with Onyx.” She pointed to the bleachers. She hoped it didn’t get swiped--she made him sign it. 

The smile on his face matched hers. For them to have been friends, she cared for him in ways that would have people assuming otherwise. Wearing someone’s name or number around your neck, closest to your heart, spoke volumes. And she’d chosen to do it for him. The honor he felt was immense. Lewis wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed his lips against her forehead. “You, my love, are a gem.” 

“Jeez,” he huffed as he buried his head further into the pillow. Soon, his pillow was wet with tears. He hated to admit how much he missed her. How much he craved hearing her laugh, seeing her smile, or feeling the weight of her when she’d fall asleep on his shoulder. He missed her. 

+

They crossed paths the following Monday after the Met Gala. Lewis was waiting in a lobby for his car to arrive when he heard her call his name in hopes he’d respond. It was an awkward reunion. Neither party knew what to say or what to do. Anvika was surprised he’d spoken to her and Lewis was gobsmacked at her beauty. 

“You look beautiful,” he said after some time.

She always claimed red wasn’t her color, but she proved herself wrong and proved himself right. Her dress was much different than what she normally went for and it only emphasized the impact she made once she hit the carpet. The scarlet red complimented the richness of her complexion beautifully and the rose-like details were stunning. And her heels were like liquid gold on her feet. She’d done her hair differently as well. Her dark brown hair was pressed and in an intricate updo that showcased her ethereal features from her dark eyebrows to her round lips. Anvika Dawson was a gem. 

Anvika smiled small, feeling flustered under his intense gaze. Her hands smoothed the material of her dress. “Thank you. You do, too.” And she meant it. He was an ethereal being. She often wondered if he was real. Her fingers clawed at her dress as she fought the urge to run her fingers cross his shoulder. 

He was dressed to the nines and in her opinion, had been the best dressed gentleman there. She always adored him in black. It made him look powerful and like the king of the room. And his skin, rich and golden, glowed beneath the ambient lights. 

Silence covered the two of them like a thin blanket--uncomfortable. Lewis couldn’t remember a time when he was uncomfortable in her presence…until now. Moments later, his security detail let him know the car was present. He prepared to bid his farewells but was stopped by Anvika’s hand on his arm. 

“Wait…are you staying at the hotel with the…” In a nervous ramble, she went on and on describing the luxurious building she was put in on behalf of her agency. It was 22 stories tall with the most beautiful lights surrounding the entryway, a maroon carpet leading into the foyer, and a surplus of botanical plants that made her feel as though she was walking through a palace. Lewis, amused by her nervous tangent, nodded.

Anvika’s eyes lit up with hope. “Will you…if you’re up to it…will you stop by, please? I-I’m on the 14th floor, room 44. Will you please just,” she sighed deeply and tore her eyes from his just momentarily, “I miss you, Lewis. And…”

And there it was. He stammered slightly and suddenly felt small under her hopeful gaze. He missed her too. He nodded once more. Anvika released the breath she had no clue she held and assured him she’d be there whenever he decided to come, just to let her know. Before he was whisked away by security, he heard her voice in his ears once again, “Thank you.”

+

Anvika’s feet nearly burned holes in the floor as she paced around her suite. Her thumb was in her mouth, a chewtoy for her nerves. Her eyes cut toward the small wall clock near the bathroom. He said he’d arrive within an hour. Two minutes late. Would he show up? Her heart was a snare drum in her chest as she contemplated her emotions. 

“Calm down,” she ordered herself, though it came out muffled as her teeth drug down the side of her thumb, pulling a tag of sensitive skin with it. She winced when she tugged too hard. “Dammit.” 

Then, there was a soft knock. Her head shot up and a gasp came from her. He came. Anvika frantically patted her hair, hoping that her bun didn’t look awful, and sped over to the suite door. She took a deep breath before pulling it open. She smiled small, “Hi.” She moved out of the way to welcome his presence. 

Falling into natural order, Lewis made his way toward the couch in the living area of the suite. He sat off to the side, nearest the right arm of the couch with his hands in his lap. She sat at the opposite end with her knees toward inward, brushing against his gently. His eyes were glued to the floor. The tenseness made her uneasy. 

She cleared her throat awkwardly and played with the loose strings at the cuff of her (his) oversized sweatshirt. “I had a therapy session not too long after everything happened,” she began. Her admission made him look at her. His eyes, once so full of life and love, were just as dull as the walls surrounding them. “We had what they call a breakthrough. You know, finally getting to the root cause of why we think, act, and speak the way we do. And it was humbling, to say the least…to realize that I hurt you in a way I never thought I was capable of.” 

She chuckled breathlessly but nothing was funny. Her tongue circled her teeth, a nervous habit, as she fought to keep the tears at bay. Lewis’ eyes, prickling slowly, stayed on her. 

“You left. And that hurt me. But you left because I hurt you. That hurt even more. And I am so sorry. You’ve been nothing but good to me and I let my own fears and insecurities cloud my judgment. I was so focused on not screwing up our friendship that I managed to do it anyway because I was neglecting how you’d feel, too.” 

He listened intently. So, she continued, “You asked what I was scared of. I never gave you a clear answer, not because I didn’t know, but because I didn’t want to be honest with you. And simply put, the idea of not only loving another man but losing another man that I love scares me. You already know I was in that messed up situation where I was nothing more than a trophy and a warm body. I didn’t want to be that for any man again. I swore I would never be that for any man again.”

Lewis’ eyes softened and for the first time since they sat down, he spoke, “You know you’re much more than that.” His hand then found its way to her thigh, caressing it softly. 

Anvika gave a closed-lipped smile. “And, um…I was upset because I had these strict boundaries, you know, no significant other means no type of intimate activity, right? I crossed that line with you and I beat myself up over it. In my head, I totally rejected this order I placed on myself and just felt internally guilty because at the time, I thought that was the beginning of experiencing heartache again. That manifested into a fear of ruining our friendship because we’d never crossed a line like that before. We went from friends to lovers in the span of 12 hours, and Lewis, that was a crazy shift.

“You always hear stories about people trying the relationship thing with their friends and they end up never speaking again. You mean too much to me for us to never speak again, so when I say I was miserable, that’s what I mean, especially because I put us in this position. None of this excuses what I did, but it was time to finally be honest. I’m sorry.” 

Silence. She hated silence. Especially when it was uncomfortable. He still hadn’t said anything but she saw the wheels turning in his head. She watched as his eyes darted from left to right, a sign that he was running through a series of logical thoughts--a million a minute. She waited patiently for his response. 

“I felt rejected,” he said softly. “Like I was good for that moment where you let loose but then after that…” 

Anvika sighed heavily. The  conversation was going deeper than she anticipated. 

Lewis dropped his hand from her thigh and brought it to his face, rubbing softly. “When you care for someone all you want to do is be there for them. To be someone that gives them the love, honor, and respect they deserve. I’ve seen how these situations have broken you down and ruined your self-esteem and trust in men, and yet, deep down even while simply being a friend, all I wanted to do was love you and show you differently. So when that happened…what I thought was placed in my grasp was taken just as quickly as it was given. And I would think, is the thought of being with me that bad? That does something to a person, Ani.” 

There was a strain in voice as he asked her what he’d been thinking for weeks. Her confessions gave more insight on why she acted the way she did, but just as she said, it didn’t change the fact that he was hurting. But, to lay his heart on the table the way he wanted with her awaiting ears was relieving. Maybe they would get somewhere.

“I know, darling, and I am sorry,” she said quickly between his words, but quickly retreated so he could continue. “Keep going…” 

“I can’t make you love me the way I love you, I can’t make you mean it in the way that I do, and I can’t make you want something more with me,” he said truthfully though the thought pained him. “So if friends is what keeps you in my life then--”

“I want to try,” Anvika cut him off. His eyes cut to her. His heart began to pound in his chest. “I was told that your lover should be your friend. I’ve experienced you as my friend for six years and I’m starting to understand that it’s okay for those lines to blur, but I only want that with you. If you’ll still have me.” Though her words ceased, her eyes, filled with tears, pleaded with him. Lewis exhaled.

You, my love, are a gem.

+

At that moment, Anvika understood why people made love often. She wasn’t a very sexual person, opting for other forms of intimacy to deepen her relationship with her partner. But when it came to Lewis, she knew he would have her addicted and yearning for more. 

He was so attentive to the needs of her body and gentle in executing them. He was patient, knowing he was the first man she’d been with in four years and that alone made her desire for him grow greater. 

Each graze of his lips against her jaw, sensual caress of her chest, and deep thrust had her singing his name. It was the sweetest song he’d heard. 

Lewis made love to her slowly, just as she requested. 

“Can you go slow, please?” Her voice was hardly above a whisper. 

“Whatever you want, baby.”

He was used to things moving fast, but he was willing to slow down as much as necessary. Plus, it gave him the opportunity to take in every face she made as he dug deep into her. 

Anvika was pressed against him, her legs trembling around his waist as he guided her movements. Her head was thrown back as she succumbed to the pleasure she’d been without for so long. Her jaw hung as a string of profanities fell. Lewis couldn’t help but chuckle. “Feel good, baby?” 

Anvika let out a breathy whine as her body grew warmer and warmer. The whine turned into a sharp gasp when Lewis’ tattooed hand slithered around her neck and squeezed. “Lewis.” His action made her jerk against him. 

“I asked you a question, beloved,” he whispered against her jaw, peppering kisses along her damp skin. 

Anvika nodded, “Yes! So good.” Lewis turned her head and brought his mouth to hers—a heated exchange of moans and passion transferred from one to another. “I love you.” The words fell from her lips as she reached her peak.

To be loved. Against her skin, he whispered back, “I love you.”

+

The water felt amazing against her skin as she stood beneath the rainfall-like water head. It soaked her once pressed hair, causing it to shrink and revert to its natural state. When Anvika wiped the water from her race, she saw Lewis staring at her, eyes full of love with hints of lust.

“What?” she asked innocently, welcoming the forthcoming feeling of his hands at her hips. 

“You’re pretty,” he said simply. He swirled a strand of her hair around his finger and watched as it recoiled. Her big eyes followed his movement. “Very pretty.”

Anvika smiled like a school-girl who found out her crush liked her back. “You are, too.” She pecked his lips and prepared to turn toward the water again but was halted by Lewis pressing her against the wall, hiking her leg up, and capturing her lips in a soul-snatching kiss. 

She whimpered and tossed her arms around his shoulders. His hand slid between them, his fingers dancing along her most sensitive place, working her up. “Can I?” His arousal nudged her thigh, desperate to get a release in her warmth. 

“Yes…”

+

They ordered takeout and ate comfortably on her bed whilst Sex in the City played on the television in the background. They were bare as the day they were born, but it didn’t spark the same excitement as it did just hours before. It felt natural and domestic. 

Anvika sat on his lap, eyes fixed on the television screen as he fed her their shared vegan pasta. The sounds of her heavy chewing made him laugh. “Is it good?” She hummed.

“You’re the only person that could convince me to eat vegan food.”

Lewis shrugged with a lazy smile, claiming for himself what she did not take off the fork. “Because I’m magical.” 

Anvika giggled and nodded, pressing her lips against his. “You are, darling, and I love you because of it.” 

Lewis wouldn’t get used to hearing that. What scared her before came so naturally in the moment and he was so thankful that it did. He finally got what he wanted and he’d never let her go. 

He smiled and it finally reached his eyes, “I love you more.”

And it was so.

[storydays]

Brozone Random Headcannons

So I've seen the Trolls Band Together 3 times and counting and it was so good! So to get back in the groove, and after having some kind words come my way from multiple people, I really appreciate you guys! I'm gonna try a new writing style. Now remember, these are simply my opinions :)

SPOILERS AHEAD!

John Dory:

*Okay, so it is canon that Branch is 24 in the Trolls 3, which makes John Dory about 44.

*Nickname(s): JD, John

Fav color: Aquamarine and Green

Pronouns: He/Him (He supports, but is comfortable as himself)

He also gives me aromantic vibes, because like throughout the movie, he was really nonchalant when the romance bits came up, however subtle they are, he didn't give a damn lol.

JD is giving big Aries vibe with how confident he can be, pretty cheerful, and gets frustrated by tiny details, and unnecessary interruptions.

Bruce:

Bruce is the second oldest at 40

BIG Scorpio vibes!! He's strong (Y'all, have y'all seen how easily he lifted Branch when they first met) and hella independent. He was the first to question John Dory before their show, he was even hesitant to leave Vaycay Island before he sang with his brothers.

Nickname(s): Brucie, I feel like Brandy calls him that to mess with him or when she wants something. His brothers' (mostly John Dory and Clay), call him that to make fun of him as well.

Fav Color: White

DO NOT TOUCH THIS MAN'S HAIR!!!!! He will sic his kids on you and show no mercy.

Pronouns: He/Him (He's a huge ally, but he's also proud of himself.)

He loves experimenting and competing in the kitchen with Brandi, forces his brothers to try their food, and chooses whose food is going on the specials board.

Clay:

Clay is giving major middle-sibling vibes: at 35 years old.

Pronouns: He/They

Clay is non-binary and wears androgynous clothing but prefers their sweater romper and wristbands.

Nickname(s): Claybo (Viva calls him this to playfully annoy him), Clayton (Bruce and JD called him that as a kid, usually copying their mothers and grandma when they would scold him; but now call him that when he's overworked himself and they have to physically drag him to bed to rest.

Fav color: Green it was pretty obvious in the movie bc originally it was yellow when we first met him as a teen, but then we meet him later and it's green, and their whole outfit is green.

Def a Gemini! They're such a playful Troll, despite how serious he may act. But as he stated before, put some respect on his name bc they're a licensed CPA, fool!

Clay's favorite snack combo is:

Fries and a vanilla milkshake! He loves dipping the salty fries in the sweet vanilla.

They talk in their sleep, mostly about tax evasion and hot chocolate?

Hates doing their hair, Viva has to wait until he's sleeping for her to brush his tangles out.

Floyd:

Floyd is the second youngest at 32

He's such a Pisces! He's so empathetic, compassionate, and oh, so sensitive.

Pronouns: He/Him

He and Clay definitely go all out for Pride (Bc Trolls are literally all spectrums of the rainbow! We learned that in Trolls 2! It'd be impossible NOT to have a big party for Pride), and drag their brothers and are literally so hype at the whole event and crashes MEGA hard the next morning and sleeps for a good 12 hours.

Floyd remained friends with Veneer because, c'mon they were vibing. He could see Veneer wanted someone to see him, so he convinced the Mount Rageous police to let the twins out for Pride.

Had a long talk with Velvet and helped her to see the error of her ways, and she began to be nicer to Veneer and listen to him.

Fav color is Black. He knows he slays the Rock Troll look.

I'm gonna settle this once and for all: Floyd is gay. The one earring in his right ear is a shout-out to his voice actor who is an openly gay singer.

Nickname(s): Flo (I feel like Branch couldn't pronounce Floyd's name yet when he was just learning to talk, so he called him Flo and it stuck.) Floydie (when his brothers tease him about his crush that he refuses to name.)

The hair in his face is like a comfort thing for him. He knows his hair is soft, and when he's bored, he plays with it, and twirls it around his fingers.

Floyd definitely has a collection of journals, from his songwriting to venting his feelings, and even (poorly drawn) doodles of his family.

Branch:

He is the youngest at 24 as stated earlier.

Pronouns: He/Him

Fav color: Midnight blue like his hair

This dude is hella smart; like has a super high IQ, but is super chill about it.

He and Poppy are that meme: Tired X Energetic on a level 10!

Nickname: Branchifer (Poppy calls him that when she's calling him out on his attitude or when she's about to start teasing him.)

Def an Aquarius: highly intellectual, creative, and likes to join in on social interactions when it's on his time. Poppy learned the hard way why she shouldn't force him to join in.

Similar to Floyd, he was a bunch of notebooks filled with songs he'd written.

Branch is shy when it comes to family PDA, like if his brothers were to group hug him, or if they tried to mother him, and gets especially prickly when they baby-talk him in front of others.

This dude is the prince of sarcasm, clearly picking that trait up from all his brothers. Like bro, why are you so sarcastic?!

Is undeniably the most sarcastic of the brothers. (His nieces and nephews start to pick up on that, much to Bruce's horror. Brandi thinks it's hilarious.)

Doesn't really like kids, but absolutely adores his nephew Bruce Jr ( I mean he loves them all, but has a soft spot for that boy.) Bruce Jr is autistic and nonverbal and struggles to communicate. I believe he uses TSL (Troll Sign Language), and when Branch learns this, he starts signing fluently with his nephew, surprising everyone, especially Bruce Jr, because not many people can sign so fluently, but then Branch explains, that he learned when he was younger because you could go deaf at any moment and it's such a useful skill.

Bruce Jr shows Branch his blueprints that he's made and honestly, if they wanted to, they could take over the world.

That's all for now! Let me know what you guys think!

A big shout out to @vacayisland appreciate you! This one’s for you 🥰

[billthedrake]

FAMILY BUSINESS

"You want another, son?" Frank Mazza asked as he and his son Anthony sat in the living room of Frank's townhouse. Thursdays after work were generally dad-and-son time, a chance to catch up outside of work. It was pretty much the same every week. Two beers before Tony went back to the "luxury apartment" he shared with his girlfriend Becky. The TV on mute as ESPN or some sports game played. Conversation drifting between small talk to serious matters and back to small talk.

Every Thursday Frank asked his son if he wanted a third beer, and every Thursday Tony declined. Frank gathered Tony wasn't pussy whipped or anything, but the two had shared enough guy talk to know the 24-year-old never liked to miss a day when it came to sex and if he came home too late, or too drunk, Becky wouldn't put out.

The Mazza men had shared a lot more guy talk lately.

Tony lifted up his bottle and gave it a glance before finishing it off with a final swig. The kid had the killer Mazza smile and those soulful brown eyes that made him a ladies man in high school and in his fraternity days at college. "Yeah, sound good, Dad," he said. "Though I'll have to take an Uber or something."

Frank cracked a grin and patted Tony's knee with his big mitt of a hand before he hoisted his beefy body up. "You're always welcome to crash in the spare room."

Tony grinned. "You ever gonna put away all my football trophies?" he laughed.

Frank chuckled. "It's still your room, Tone... I guess a father never gets over the empty nest thing."

Tony rolled his eyes some but didn't lose that Mazza smile. "Empty nest? Dad, we see each other practically every day. More than after the divorce."

Frank winced a little in the grimace. That had been tough. He still didn't know if he'd made the right move divorcing Janice when he did. It killed him to think he'd put his son through that and selfishly he knew it had made his relationship with Tone a lot tougher for a lot of years. "Yeah," he said softly.

"Come on, Dad," Anthony objected. "I didn't mean it like that."

Frank nodded and went to get two more beers. He felt relieved when he came back and indeed Tony was in one of his relaxed, happy go lucky moods.

"Long day," the son said as he took a sip.

"Now you know how I've felt all these years," Frank said. It wasn't that Frank Mazza didn't value being a family man, but he'd always been a workaholic. He loved being in the provider role, maybe, and certainly loved the satisfaction of an honest day's work, maybe it was more satisfying than the emotional connections he sometimes had a hard time with in marriage.

Anthony shrugged. "I don't mind the hours when I know I'm working for myself."

Frank grinned. He was 44 now and thick-muscular Italian looks were now more clearly handsome. Gray temples set off his tan face and his otherwise dark hair. And his clean-shaven scruff made his dark complexion more alluringly masculine. "You know... I didn't expect you'd come back and join the business," he said, opening up with that third beer.

Tony grinned. "Yeah, Dad. I know. But I never had a doubt I wanted to... I mean... you worked hard to build the business up, I wanna do the Mazza name proud."

Frank worried he was going to get emotional. He and Tone had a rough patch when he was in high school, and he knew for sure that once the kid went off to college and got the degree his father never did... well, Frank expected Tony to never look back.

Instead, Mazza Contractors became Mazza and Son. They joked that Frank was the Brawn and Tony was the brains. It wasn't like his son wasn't muscular in his own right - a former tight end in high school and a regular devotee of the gym these days, Tony was downright buff. But he had a Bachelors in Business Administration and a good head for accounting. Tony was already the one interfacing with clients, generally well-to-do suburbanites looking for an upscale kitchen or bathroom remodel job. More than Frank, he knew how to talk those fuckers' language and how to placate demanding Karens. And when needed, Frank would show up to assure them of that blue-collar work ethic.

"So..." Frank said, changing the subject. "Becky not expecting you home?"

Tony shook his head. He had a look that was a mix of wounded and defiant. "Nah, we broke up."

"What?" the father said. Maybe because Tony had rekindled things with his high school sweetheart after graduation, he expected this one to last. "Sorry to hear, son."

Tony shrugged. "It's all right. It kind of sucks, but I was the one to call things off."

Frank leaned forward, his brown eyes showing that parental concern. "Can I ask what the problem was?"

Gone was that Mazza smile as Tony explained. "It's just... you know how Becky is very independent. You know, the career woman type... I don't know, Dad... I think I need someone more traditional."

"Traditional?" Frank questioned.

Tony grinned. "Yeah, you know, kind of like you and Mom. The wife staying home, taking care of things, the man being the bread winner. That kind of thing."

Frank patted Tony's shoulder in reassurance. "I know times have changed," he said. "But I'm pretty sure there are some traditional women out there."

Tony nodded. "Probably, yeah."

Frank leaned in and sais in a quiet, conspiratorial tone. "Just be careful... some of the traditional girls... well, they sometimes expect to be spoiled some. Particularly if they're pretty."

Tony laughed. "I know Mom was a princess, Dad," he said. "You don't have to mince words."

Frank clapped Tone's firm shoulder and withdrew his hand. "Guess not. Look... I made a promise I was never gonna speak ill of your mother to ya. But I'll just say there were times I wish I'd been supported more at home. After a ten hour day, sometimes a man just wants to be pampered a little when he gets home, you know?"

Tony's eyes met his. "That's it in a nutshell, Dad. It's just us guys, right?" the son asked as a prelude to what he was about to say. Not all fathers and sons talked openly about sex, but Frank never seemed to have any hangups, and since Tony had first gone to college they reconnected almost like buddies as much as family.

"Yeah," Frank assured him. "Just us guys."

"Becky was nice and all... and in my way I loved her, Dad. Still do.. but, fuck... I'd get home from the office and she'd be yammering about all her work crap and I'd just want to kick back and get a fucking blowjob."

Tony's crude words didn't shock Frank. Just as Frank's never shocked Tony.

"I hear ya, son," the man said. "Your old man's not one to be handing out dating advice, but you should find a girl who likes giving head and doesn't mind giving it."

Tony grinned. "Had one girl in college who did. But she was a stuck up bitch," he said. "She thought she was slumming it by going out with an Italian dude... I guess we both used each other."

Frank grinned. He had a good idea which girl Tone was talking about.

But his son's train of thought had already moved on. "Well, it's a hell of a lot easier with guys."

Frank's eyes went wide. He'd had a couple experiences like that under his belt. But the father-son chats had never gone there, not even in their most buddy-buddy candidness. "You done that, Tone?"

His son took a sip of beer and nodded. "It's easy as ordering fucking takeout, Dad," he laughed. "You go on your phone, see what's on the menu, pick out a cocksucker... and then it's pick up or delivery." His accent was now half North Jersey, half generic college-bro, but as he talked crudely, his thicker Jersey side won out.

Frank laughed. His mind was going to where he tried not to let it go. To the idea of his own son's cock and some man servicing it. "Easier than when I was your age," the father blurted out.

Now it was Anthony's turn to be surprised. "You done that, too, Pop?"

Frank blushed, but he didn't want to seem like the shy one. "Well, maybe a little younger than you... before I married your mother... sure, but it was more buddies helping each other out, you know?"

Anthony gave a half-shrug, half-nod that said he'd never had that kind of arrangement with his friends. Then his lips curled into a naughty smile. "You, uh, interested in some fun, Dad?" he asked.

Frank gulped. His mind was definitely going somewhere it shouldn't. And at that moment he wished his only son wasn't so goddamn handsome.... "Whaddya mean?" he asked softly.

Tony pulled out his phone and swiped to open it. "There's one guy who always drops everything when I hit him up," he typed the phone screen a couple times and looked up. "He's really fucking good, Dad... my favorite lately... I'm sure he'd be up for taking care of you, too."

"I don't know, Tone," Frank said, caution kicking in.

But his son was undeterred. "Come on, Dad, it'll be fun..." Then leaning back, he flashed that Mazza smile to his father and asked, "when was the last time you got laid?"

Frank shook his head. "I'm not sure this is something a father discusses with his son."

"It's just us guys, Dad," Tony countered. "How long?"

Frank blushed again. "Eight months."

"Jesus fucking Christ," his son swore. He went back to messaging the online cocksucker. "You're definitely getting some head tonight."

The burly, blue collar man thought he'd be pissed at Tony for being bossy like this. But he was secretly glad. He needed to get out of his comfort zone. Maybe Tone was onto something, using guys until the right woman came along. And he even more secretly he felt a thrill at seeing his normally good-kid of a son have a naughty sexual side. A take charge side.

"There," Tony said with a laugh as he set down his phone. "Told ya. He'll be over in fifteen minutes."

Fear came again to the Dad. "Is he... um gonna do both of us? At the same time?" The idea thrilled Frank but scared the hell out of him too.

Tony shook his head. Eyes meeting his father's for that brief moment of illicit knowledge passed between them. Tony imagining that incestuous scenario but he laughed it off. "Fuck that would be wild... ha, no, we'll take turns. He knows you're my dad, though... I think that turns the fucker on... hope you don't mind."

"No," Frank replied quietly. Then looking into Tony's brown eyes, he asked, "He's good, you say?"

"The best," the son replied. He nudged Frank's arm. "Seriously, he's gonna put those high school buddies of yours to shame."

Frank was still nervous when the guy showed up. Ian was his name. Good looking, gym built gay dude in his late 30s. Surprisingly comfortable being led in by Tony.

"Ian... this is my Dad. Dad, this is Ian," Tony said. Weirdly confident and relaxed. "Ok, if I go first? I could fuck a hole in the wall I'm so horny."

Frank felt a tightness in his crotch. He'd shared guy talk with Tone, but never seen his boy quite like this. He just gave a nod and watched his son lead Ian down the hall.

The wait was interminable. But was really five minutes tops. Then Tony strutted in, face flushed, a smile showing. That recognizable just-got-laid relaxation on his face.

"Your turn, Dad. He's waiting in my room for ya."

"Thanks," Frank said, standing up. He considered backing out, but he was too turned on now. He wasn't as nearly self conscious as he should have been by the hardon his son could see or the smirk Tony flashed when he saw it.

Ian was waiting for him all right. Sitting on Tony's old bed, surrounded by his son's old stuff that Frank kept in that second bedroom, all the posters and the football trophies. The man was unzipped and had a cock in hand and a horny look on his face.

"God, I can't believe this," the cocksucker said.

Frank didn't know a lot of gay guys, but this guy was rearranging a lot of his hang ups fast. He looked at the guy's dick. The first he'd seen up close and personal in a long time. He shut the bedroom door and locked it. Then turned to Ian.

"Ok, if I suck you?" he asked. He was almost too chicken to ask, but he knew he'd never get a chance like this again.

Ian's eyes went wide in surprise for a second, then he let go of his prick, a solid tool nearing seven inches and standing ramrod straight as the man leaned back on his arms on Tony's bed. "Sure, man... go for it."

Frank Mazza was running on adrenaline. The way he crouched down and got in place. Like he'd seen chicks do in porn. He was like one of those bimbos, he thought, but the idea didn't scare him like he thought. It turned him the fuck on.

"God yes," Ian hissed as Frank started taking that dick into his mouth. "Suck me, Daddy."

Hell, this was fucking with Frank's mind. He bobbed faster and deeper. He choked some and Ian had to tell him to go slower. He did and gradually he got into a good rhythm, a nice balance between speed and depth.

THIS felt incredible, the father decided. Not like those truth-or-dare experiments or those BJ swaps with his high school buddies. This was raw intense sex between meen. Frank was 44 and just now discovering how right this felt for him. He sucked more furiously, happy his gag reflex was holding off. Barely but holding off.

Even as cum pulsed into his throat. Ian didn't bother to announce his orgasm. Didn't matter: Frank would have swallowed that load greedily. He almost didn't want to relinquish that prick, but Ian was getting sensitive.

"Damn... you should definitely treat your son to THAT," he laughed. "That's some great head."

Frank leaned up. He was beyond thinking straight, he was horny as hell and hard in his jeans. "What?" he asked.

Ian grinned. "Dude, you're both such pervs... Tony couldn't stop talking about you the whole time I blew him."

"For real?" Frank asked excitedly, not concealing what he wanted the answer to be.

"For real," the man assured him. Then reading the older man's face, he added, "That turns you on, doesn't it?"

Frank nodded, tears welling up a little, but his dick hard as steel.

Ian grinned and reached down to rub Frank's crotch and unbutton him. "I wanna suck you too, man... first son, then father... total fantasy on a silver platter."

Frank grunted and nodded. And then watched as an experienced cocksucker crouched down and slowly, expertly brought him off to a deep cum.

The two got straightened up and Ian got a suddenly sheepish look on his face. "If I give you my number, will you let me know if anything happens between you two?"

Frank could tell the incest thing was a big turn on for this guy. But was feeling less comfortable now. "I don't know, man."

"Come on... just take my number. You don't have to tell me anything too private. Hell if you just wanna hit me up for some no-strings fun, that's cool."

"Yeah," Frank relented. He had to admit that idea was appealing.

Ian gave a quick wave as he walked past Tony. "Later, man."

"Yep," Tony half waved and went back to watching sports.

Frank realized he had a similarly primal look of sexual satisfaction his son did a while ago. But as he sat down, he realized that maybe something more had transpired that evening. That maybe the genie was out of the bottle.

He looked over at his son. He had the Mazza nose and jaw line, along with some of his mother's good looks. Tony was a stunner, all right, just the kind of young stud that was just "nice" and approachable to get women to put out.

Frank thought about what it would be like to suck his son's cock.

Tony caught his father looking. He glanced over with a wink. "Ian's good, right, Dad?"

Frank blushed and nodded, turning his attention back to the TV and picking up the beer for a much needed gulp. It was half-warm but he didn't care. The man was parched now. "Yep, Tone," he finally replied. "Like you said... the best."

[bodyhopper-files]

Young, Hung and Ready to Fuck

“Oh yeah,” Terrell licked his lips hungrily and ran his fingers up and down the abs on his athletic young body. “Lookin’ good!”

The 44-year-old gay man had successfully used a mind-transferrence device to switch bodies with his 22-year-old nephew, Elijah. Standing in front of the mirror, Terrell flexed his muscles happily, admiring the solid sixpack he now called his own. His gaze then dropped to the impressive bulge in his underwear as he turned to the side.

"Damn," he muttered. He had forgotten how good it felt to be young, hung, and always ready to fuck!

Terrell, now Elijah, finally put his phone down and stopped taking pictures of himself, at least for the time being. He felt deeply satisfied knowing that Elijah's life was now his own, and from now on, he would be the one in control of Elijah's body and mind.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Pride! Can I get some trans content<3

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45

He can’t be pregnant.

The curse mark on his arm tells him that he is living in this body on limited time. Eventually, he will die, the string keeping him inside Mo Xuanyu’s body snapping like a string and sending him back to wherever she summoned him from.

He’d let himself forget, a little. The body he inhabits is so different than the one he woke up in. He’s made her stronger, grown her golden core into a fearsome thing, worked and worked muscles until they swelled and hardened.

It had begun to feel like it belonged to him, liked he’d carved his body from Mo Xuanyu’s. The differences from his old body hadn’t felt important, and still don’t, it’s about how this is the body he worked for and made from the one given to him.

But Mo Xuanyu is dead and her body isn’t his to keep.

If he wants to have this baby, then he must betray Mo Xuanyu and her sacrifice. If he wants to bring Lan Zhan’s baby into the world, he cannot kill Jin Guangshan.

Completing the mission she retrieved him for will sever the connection and he will die again and so will the life he’s growing.

His only hope is that maybe, maybe the thread binding him here will hold long enough for him to both deliver this child and kill Jin Guangshan.

He looks from Jiang Yanli to Jiang Cheng, their fierceness and determination the closest he’s felt to home in a long time. He shouldn’t be letting them do this, shouldn’t be sinking into the comfort of their protectiveness when they think he’s someone he’s not, but he can’t help it. It makes him feel even sadder for Xuanyu, to think that they would have done this for her, if only she’d let them. Hadn’t Jiang Yanli reached out to him that very first day while he was a confused and terrified mess? And here she is now, offering to shield him from his husband, offering to help Mo Xuanyu choose her own path and either continue the pregnancy or have it end here.

He takes a deep breath, trying to stem the flow of his tears. Jiang Cheng’s hands on his shoulders feel like the only thing keeping him in place, like he’s pressing Wei Wuxian’s spirit into place in Xuanyu’s body.

He presses a hand against his stomach, thinking of the life shifting in his womb as the first lotuses that had sprouted from muddy mountainside. If he could grow flowers in the burial mounds, he can grow a child in a borrowed body.

But does he want to?

This isn’t what he’s here for. The best case scenario is that he leaves Lan Zhan behind to raise a child alone, the husband and child of the woman who murdered a clan leader. The worst case is he leaves Lan Zhan behind to mourn a wife and child and he dies without avenging the wrongs done against Mo Xuanyu. Or he can end this here, remove the potential child from the equation and kill Jin Guangshan as subtly as possible, something he has the time to arrange when he isn’t pushing his connection to this world to the brink. Then Lan Zhan will only be the widower rather than the husband of a murderer.

There are no good choices.

But he’s used to that.

He breathes in, holding it at the top of his lungs and letting out slowly.

A-Yuan had been the brightest light in the burial mounds. Anytime he wavered, aching for the life and the people he left behind, it wasn’t Wen Qing or Wen Ning of Granny who hardened his resolve once more, but A-Yuan.

He’d loved being a parent. He’d wished he really could grow siblings for A-Yuan like he’d grown turnips.

Wei Wuxian’s legacy is one of failure, of loss, of destruction. All those he tried to protect fell. All those he had protected turned against him. The last thing he will do on this earth is kill again, even if it is a man who has earned it.

He does not want to leave behind a legacy of only terrible things.  

It could all end horribly. But he’s always been foolish enough to hope for better than he has.

He finally meets Jiang Cheng’s steady gaze.

“I’ll talk to Wangji.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 44

Joyous Walpurgisnacht: Part II

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. 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 start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Please share your screams in my ask or a reblog!

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.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Laufeyson returns with a second drink. You still have your first, nursing it as you find your head spinning with the activity all around. As more guests stream through, raucous as they meet others they know, the stage hums and the speakers crackle to life. 

Bragi begins his set, a brief tidings for the event before he strums into a tune. You wiggle your foot to the beat, peering over at the full band behind the lead. It's all so big and bright.

You turn back, reaching for your glass, as Laufeyson draws from his own. He watches you over the brim, eyes traveling down your body, focusing on the movement of your foot. You still it and uncross your legs, setting your soles flat.

He puts his drink down, half-finished. You sit back and fold your hands in your lap, peering around evasively. He probably saw you slouching or was annoyed by your fidgeting. You blow out between your lips as the party blooms around you.

Voices thrum in ripples beneath the steady rhythms of the stage, hollers go up now and then, piquing your interest as you look over to see a group cluster. They stand around smaller tables framed by two chairs each. You can barely see those sitting at them moving small pieces around the board.

“Hnefatafl!” The cry goes up as Thor stands and the pieces scatter on the table before him. You quickly look away as his head pops up above his audience.

“An old game,” Laufeyson explains, “rather dry for an event like this.”

You raise your brows curiously. You’re almost tempted to ask him more but think better of it. He hardly seems interested. Distant thunks bring another roar from a crowd further down. You twist in your chair to see across the field large round boards set up. A man with blond hair hurls an axe towards the wood, embedding it. You flinch and face the table again.

“Chaos,” Laufeyson mutters.

“Yes,” you agree, your toe tapping on the grass until you stop it again.

You sink into a silence which exists only between you and him. The furor of the party crackles around you, circling you in a whirlwind. There in the eye of the storm, there is no sound. It is deafeningly hollow.

“Ahem,” the clearing of a throat and tap on your shoulder brings you around. Laufeyson looks over your head, fixing his posture as you face Odin, “hiding in the corner?”

“Not exactly, father,” Laufeyson says, once more taking up his drink.

“There is much to enjoy. Your mother’s put in so much effort, I’d for her to see you glowering like this,” Odin reproaches.

“I do not glower,” his son snips.

“Mm, yes, well, you are more than welcome to wallow alone,” Odin replies flippantly, “but you needn’t cast a cloud over others…” he shifts to face you, opening a hand to you, “might I be so humbled as to request a dance from the lovely lady?”

You look up at him and your mouth falls open, “dance? I don’t know… how.”

“Well, then it is a good thing I must take it slow,” Odin insists, “it isn’t so hard to learn.”

Laufeyson sighs and drains the last of his whiskey. He stands abruptly, “I need to top up.”

Odin eyes him tensely but doesn’t remark. He looks back to you, “you don’t need to sit in his shadow all night. One dance, fair maiden of Walpurgisnacht, I see you can barely contain yourself.”

You look down as his gaze falls to your foot, once more wiggling. You still it and accept his hand. You hope Laufeyson isn’t too upset. It is only his father after all, he can’t be too put out.

“Thank you,” you stand and let him lead you away.

Odin brings you amid the other dancers, on a flat white floor laid out over the grass. He guides you to face him and helps you place your hands before he hooks an arm around you. He’s gentle but firm in leading you, counting with the rhythm between directing you how to move your feet.

“That’s it, dear, you’re a natural,” he praises as you let the music guide you, “and a beauty. That dress is very becoming, though it pales on you. You look immaculate…” he continues to sway with you, “my son is a fool not to say it himself.”

“Odin,” you look past him sheepishly.

“It is the truth. You are glowing and he is playing the troll, secreting you away from the light,” he tuts and shakes his head.

“It isn’t my party,” you utter.

“You belong here,” he insists, “don’t you think otherwise.”

“I am the house manager–” you rebuff.

“You aren’t,” he says, “my son didn’t get his senselessness from me. No, that is bred of mistrust. Fear, truly.”

“Odin, it’s true–”

“If he says it, it cannot be,” he counters, “when he looks at you, he is not looking at a house manager. He will claim I do not know him but he is my son. I see through him, it is only a pity he looks in the mirror and cannot do the same.”

You stare at the button of his vest. You don’t believe him. You don’t want to. You’re too afraid to think it could ever be true. Yet how can you tell him the truth? That would be humiliating. You are only half-right, your son wants more of me but only to sate his worst urges. It isn’t sentiment, it is convenience.

“Pardon,” a voice has you tripping over your own feet but Odin keeps you balanced, turning you as another figure stands close, “father, may I… take over?”

“Ah, but we are having such fun,” Odin taunts and twists you away from Laufeyson again.

“Yes, it seems so,” Laufeyson says thickly, “perhaps the next song…”

“Oh, don’t be so mopey,” Odin stops you as he chuckles, “I was only trying to pep you up, yes? It’s a party.” Odin raises your hand and kisses it gently, “thank you, dear, for humouring an old man.”

He stands straight and lets you go. He faces his son but you cannot see his expression, only the way Laufeyson’s eyes gleam back dangerously. Odin departs and Laufeyson’s attention flits onto you. He takes a step forward, once more looking you up and down.

The music ebbs and a new song begins. The soft plucking begins, then the reedy tone of a flute. Mr. Laufeyson offers his hand and you accept it, awkwardly coming closer as he sweeps his arm around you, his hand stretched over your lower back. He looks down to place his feet with yours before he begins. He is lithe and graceful, you feel otherwise.

“This is your song,” he says as the melody comes clearer.

You tweak an ear as you follow it, then lyrics begin.

“Moon River, wider than a mile…” 

Your heart pulses in recognition. You smile towards the stage. You didn’t expect him to truly do it but it’s wonderful.

“I like it,” Laufeyson says, “it is very… whimsical.”

You turn your head straight, focusing on your footwork, careful not to trod his feet, “it is.”

He’s silent as you feel his gaze upon you, bearing down. He must be annoyed by how you follow his lead, uncertain in your body. How pathetic; never had a birthday cake, never had a dance. You look up and gulp shakily.

You almost stop dead in your heels as you see something less than agitated in his expression. He is fixated on you without a trace of chagrin. His hand shifts on your back, his other on your hip as you hold his shoulder and his upper arm. He is handsome in the dimming approach of the evening.

“When I said before that you look nice,” he begins, “I was remiss. You look… beyond anything I could ever put into words. You are magnificent, pet.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you stutter, “well, you look very handsome as well.”

“I am not looking for compliments,” he dismisses, “and I think I owe you more than that.”

You don’t know what to say. Is it an apology? You don’t know entirely what he means. He’s had three glasses of whiskey, just like that night, and in the morning, he was just the same as before. You won’t count on the kindness he finds at the bottom of a bottle.

A sudden flash makes you squeak. You look over as Yvonne smiles over the large lens. You give a nervous giggle and brace Laufeyson tighter. He sweeps you away from the camera.

“Tomorrow, we will talk,” he avows, “but we can enjoy tonight. It is Walpurgisnacht and it is a new beginning.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He winces and exhales, “can I be Loki for tonight?”

“Loki,” you echo, “yes.”

As the song ends, the heat speckling in your skin licks to flames. You don’t know if it’s being so close or his constant gaze or the thought of tomorrow and whatever you might talk about. You’re sweating and you're uncomfortable and you need a breath.

“Excuse me, um, I need the bathroom,” you gently pull away. 

He reluctantly lets you go, his hand lingering on your hip as he points, “there, in the tents, I believe mother had facilities put up.”

“Thanks,” you offer a weak grin and step away from his grasp.

“I’ll be here,” he promises as you go.

You try not to hurry. You don’t want him to see how desperate you are to be away. It isn’t him, it’s you. This is all too much for you. It isn’t you. You’re not one of these people but they treat you like one. You’re just a poor girl born of cigarette ash.

You find your way to the tent housing the stalls. You take your time and try to collect yourself. Your nerves are tingling in your fingertips and where he held you; just along your lower back and your hip. It’s that urge that worries you, the one that made you think of resting your head on his shoulder.

You emerge and use the outdoor sinks set up in front of the stalls. You dry off and measure your breaths. You can do this. You go back down towards the fervour and as the night sets in, the large lights come to life and light the crowd.

You search the clusters of bodies. Where is Mr. Laufeyson? As you inch along the threshold, a shadow shifts to your right. You glance over but the figure disappears. You shake off the eerie sensation creeping down your spine and march forward into the tide of people.

You weave around bodies and tables, dizzy from the flurry all around you. You stagger as you’re nearly stampeded by a rowdy group of guests and you spin around to face a table in the far corner. There you find a scene that makes your heart plummet into your stomach.

You can’t stop yourself as you near the pair. Laufeyson, Loki, sits in a chair, two drinks on the table; his whiskey and another bright purple concoction. But beside him is Sif. She leans forward, her wrist clutched in his grasp as she whispers through the curve in her delicate lips. He stares back at her, eyes fiery, jaw locked.

“Loki, we had something good…” you hear her slither as you get closer. Her blue eyes dance over to you and her lips curl, “I still love you.”

She looks at him again and smashes her lips into his. He winces and turns his head, his gaze finding you as you stop, paralysed as you watch helplessly. You blink and swallow, wetting your lips as you bring your hand up to your sickened stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You turn and race away on clacking heels. You don’t look back as you elbow through bodies, running without direction, without escape. You just need to be away from it. All of it.

You find the pathway into the garden, plunging into the brush as your heels wobble with each step. You stumble and grunt in frustration. You stop and bend to unbuckle the shoes, tossing them away before you hurry on.

You find the stone gazebo, lit only by moonlight, and throw yourself inside. You land on a stone bench and hang your head in the frame of an arched window. You deflate as you hunch over, trembling so much it hurts.

You won’t cry. Why would you do that? It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. Mr. Laufeyson only said you looked magnificent then turned around to kiss his ex-wife. And why wouldn’t she? She’s much more than you’ll ever be. She fits neatly into their puzzle.

“Ah, little maid,” the gazebo darkens as the moonlight disappears as if a clouds passed over the nocturnal guardian, “what is the matter?”

You sit up and shudder as Thor’s burly silhouette limns in silver. You brace the edge of the bench and stand.

“N-nothing, I was only… having a break, I should head back–”

“It is peaceful out here,” he says, unmoving as you gesture around him. He fills the entire doorway.

“Yeah, but er, I should–”

“How do you like Walpurgisnacht? Are you having fun?” He asks, propping and elbow against the stone.

“Sure, I guess.”

“And did you play any games?” he sneers.

You falter and lean back on one heel. You have a bad feeling. You wring your hands as the air breezes in, a shiver rattling you.

“No…”

“That is too bad. This is a day of fun! Games are fun, aren’t they?”

“Please, Thor, I have to get back–”

“Let’s play a game,” he ignores your protest and steps into the gazebo, “I know a special game.”

“Thor,” you croak as you glance towards the windows. You see the lights above the trees and hear the muted noise of the partygoers and Bragi’s tunes. You look back to him as he takes another step towards you.

“You can be the mouse…” he says, “and I shall be the cat.”

“No, please, I don’t want–”

“You best be nimble, mouse. for the cat is hungry,” he growls as he looms closer, “and ready to pounce!”

He lunges and you jump back. Your shoulder hits the wall and you cry out. You turn and feel around, nearly falling through the opposite doorway as your feet slip over the stone steps. You stumble at the bottom, slipping in the grass as twigs and stones poke into your bare soles.

You hear him behind you, laughing as he makes a steady but easy pursuit. You sprint across the small field towards the row of brush, skirt catching on bramble as you dive into the wilderness. You don’t know where you’re going, you just need to get away.

Your feet slip on moss as dirty sticks to your skin. You puff as you pump your arms, glancing back over your shoulder frantically. He isn’t running, but he is coming. You can hear him laughing.

You swerve around, towards the noise of the party. You just need to get back there. You need to find a path. You don’t know where you are, the further you go, the more lost you are. The noises fade further and further. Oh god, wrong way!

Suddenly, your toe hits something hard and you nosedive forward. You don’t have time to get your hands up as your face crunches into a thick trunk and you collapse to the ground. You roll over as you taste iron on your tongue. Ow.

You sit up and touch your throbbing nose. As you plant your feet to stand, you hear a rustle and suddenly, you’re pushed flat to your back. Thor snickers as he holds you down by your shoulders, straddling you beneath him as he huffs.

“Ah, I’ve caught you, mouse,” he taunts as you squirm and whimper, “now the cat must feast.”

[connorsbonez]

DC/DP Crossover Idea #44

Somehow Skulker is the one to acquire a de-aged Phantom and decides to just…take him along in his hunts?? Just strap him to one of those baby carriers and they’re good to go.

Like sure, he could just drop the welp somewhere in his haunt back in the Human Realm and wait till the kid is back to his normal form but that would require Skulker having to drop by the Human Realm often to check in on the welps status so it was just easier to carry him around till the boy changes back and they can go back to hunting him down. (He’ll change back, right?)

Of course, nothing is that simple when it comes to the Phantom boy, because due to him getting suddenly shrunk down his powers have decided ‘hey, you can no longer reasonably control me’. And it’s not usually a problem because Phantom is usually hanging out in a good old baby carrier that’s close enough to Skulker so his core kind of…helps stabilize the powers a bit??? Like sure, more often than not there’s a thin sheet of frost covering his body from where Phantom was, and every so often the boys limbs would randomly disappear or shoot out ectoplasm but that only really happened in the times that Skulker had to remove Phantom from his person and leave him alone to his own devices.

Skulker had quickly learned that he couldn’t just leave Phantom because 1. The welp was a natural wanderer and only being able to either crawl or barely float didn’t stop him, at all. 2. He was a trouble magnet and 3. All these got worse when the boy got bored, causing him to wander off and attract trouble

There totally wasn’t a 4th reason, nope, not at all.

To fix this problem, he put the welp into one of his cages (it got changed into a more child-friendly version, imagine a play pen with a top on it and there you go), perfectly baby Phantom proof so he couldn’t get out, and he even threw some baby ghost toys in there so he can entertain himself while Skulker went after his prey.

Eventually Skulker + Phantom find themselves in the DC universe for a reason of your choosing, maybe a group heard of the Infinite Realms Greatest Hunter and they needed his help to take a creature down.

Well, he goes and the group is greeted by a large robotic-looking man with solid green eyes and firey hair, and the white haired baby boy with glowing green eyes that sat happily in a baby carrier as he chewed on…ice that was formed in a doughnut shape and had a green tint to it? It wasn’t hard to see the sharp teeth dig into the ice that seemed to refuse to crack even a little.

They weren’t really given the chance to question the child, from both the lack of interest that the hunter had in answering and also the very reason they even tried to contact Skulker in the first place.

Some side-glanced the cage that suddenly appeared and now contained the small child who didn’t react to this like it was something normal for them. Some even tried to touch the cage, only to be quickly greeted by a shock of electricity, a clear sign to not touch the cage.

It’s only till after Skulker was able to deal with the creature that they needed him too, does he answer.

The problem is that Skulker forgot that these mortals weren’t from the Infinite Realms, they weren’t ghosts, and they also didn’t know how Skulker and Phantoms dynamic worked, as he wasn’t used to interacting with those who didn’t know all of those at least vaguely.

So maybe answering with “I’m waiting for him to grow up so I can have his pelt hung amongst the rest of my trophies.” And then immediately disappearing afterwards with Phantom wasn’t the smartest idea but hey, it’s not like Skulker knew.

[jawritter]

Dean’s Birthday Surprise

Summary: Y/N get’s Dean a kinky surprise for his 44th Birthday!

Warnings: 18 + Only!! HERE THERE BE SMUT!!!! NO ONE UNDER 18 SHOULD READ THIS FIC!!!  Crotchless panties, girl on top, fingering, language, nudity. P & V smut. 

Written For: @spnkinkevents

Prompt: Crotchless Panties

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2k 

A/N: A little something I through together for our best boy’s birthday! This fic is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine! Feedback is golden! Enjoy!

Main Masterlist

Dean’s POV:

Dean felt old, and he hated every minute of it. 

Honestly, he never expected to live to see 44 years of age. He figured he was gonna die bloody as a young man. When he was 43 he came damn close to it.

Still, here he stands. Alive, well, and more than a little depressed. 

He couldn't understand it really, how he got old. One minute he was a young man, hunting, and had the ladies eating out of the palm of his hand. Next, he was being told her had "dad bod", whatever the fuck that was. 

Logically, Dean knew he wasn't old, he just didn't expect to live this long. He didn't know what to do with his life from here. Sure, he had Y\N, but how long could he expect that to last really? She was young, beautiful, smart, hell, he was surprised every day he woke up and she was still laying with her head on his chest. Fuck if he'd ever understand why she loved him, but she said she did.

"Happy birthday handsome," her voice sounded from behind him as her arms wrapped around his middle, and her head rested on his back. Good he didn't deserve her. She was far too perfect for him. Still, he was selfish, and he loved her, so he did everything he could to make her stay.

"Thanks," he managed to croak out after clearing his throat. He stopped the sponge in his hand into the soap filled bucket at his feet so that he could rest his hand on top of hers.

"You gonna take her for a spin now that you got her all clean?" She questioned, sliding herself around to stand in front of him moving her hands to rest on his shoulders. 

Dean hummed before pressing his lips to her own in a brief kiss. To brief for his liking, normally he was much more thorough. He was just so trapped in his head. Maybe a drive would do him some good. Being alone in Baby always helped clear his head. 

"Yeah, I think I will…"

"Good," she quipped quickly. "Cause when you get home I got a surprise for my favorite birthday boy." 

"Aw baby," Dean said with an exhausted sigh. " I told you that you didn't have to make a fuss over me."

"No argument Mr.! "She fussed, shoving his shoulders playfully and earning a genuine smirk from him. "Now, you go take a ride, clear your head so you can get out of whatever headspace you're trapped in there, and we're gonna have some time alone with the bunker all to ourselves."

Dean sighed heavily before leaning forward to peck her lips again. 

"Where's Sammy gonna be?" Dean questioned, turning to stare at his girl, who was leaning against her bright red, classic Mustang. Admiring him like he was the most gorgeous thing she'd ever seen. God he really, really didn't deserve her.  

"He and Eileen have a date tonight, and he said he's already planning to stay there at her house," Y/N answered. "Now GO! I got to get ready for your present."

"Fine, fine," Dean waved her off and opened the car door, shaking his head in disbelief at this woman and how she could possibly love him. 

Y/N POV:

Three hours later, Y/N found herself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, putting the finishing touches on her makeup with nothing on but a short, black silk robe, and a pair of lace, crotchless panties. 

Normally, Dean wasn't much for theatrics. 'They're just gonna end up on the floor anyway', he says, but Y/N knew that he enjoyed these kinda things more than he wanted to admit. He just didn't want her to feel like she HAD to do this kinda thing for him. Like he didn't deserve the extra attention. Y/N disagree, honestly she wished he'd let her do more. She would just have to settle for birthdays and special occasions, today just happened to be Dean's birthday. 

Besides, when he saw her in this, she was pretty sure that he wasn’t gonna have enough blood left in his brain to argue about it with her anyway. 

She quickly brushed her hand through her hair to give herself some volume, and smiled victorious at the image of the woman she’d created staring back at her. She was quite proud of this look if she did say so herself. 

As if on cue, Y/N heard the distinct sound of the bunker garage door closing, and she knew she had just a few minutes before Dean came wandering into their shared room. He was very much a creature of habit, or else this surprise would have been a lot harder to pull off. 

Still, knowing Dean the way she did, she hurried to position herself on the bed, first trying laying in her side, but that didn’t really work for, then she tried laying her back, but that really didn’t do it, so she tried a fail safe, something she knew Dean enjoyed, even if he didn’t want to admit that he enjoyed it, and that was her on her knees, in the middle of the bed, waiting for him like the good girl he loved so much. 

She had no more loosened the ties on her kaminio, revealing the perfect swells of her supple breast, than the bedroom door cracked open, and Dean stepped in, still looking at his phone. 

“Hey baby, I’m hungry, I’m think about ordering a piz—”

Dean’s words died somewhere in his throat when he looked up to find Y/N kneeling in the center of the bed, legs spread just enough to not reveal too much, but enough to be inviting, and nothing but a thin, black slick gathering of fabric covering his prize. His phone slipped from his fingers, and landed on the floor along with his jaw, and she couldn’t help but smirk in victory. 

“Happy birthday De,” she voiced as he started to robotically kick off his shoes, as well as shed his jacket, attempting to shed all of the layers he had on as fast as he possibly could. “Why don’t you come on over here and open up your present?”

She didn’t have to tell him twice, as he ripped his shirt off his head, leaving a cute, hedgehog hairstyle behind. He was already working his belt and jeans loose before he started to move towards the bed, hungry green eyes taking in all that they could devour.

“Goddamit baby girl, you’re gonna give a man a heart attack,” Dean mumbled as he climbed onto the bed knees first. His hands already reached for her hips to pull her as flush to him as she could before their lips collided with one another in a deep, need filled kiss.

“So I take it that you like it then,” she questioned as she pulled away from him, leaving him chasing her kiss with the most adorable disgruntled face. Almost as if he was confused and offended at her for taking her lips away from his too soon. 

“Fuck yeah I do,” he said, his thick, capable fingers already pulling the thin black tigh loose, causing her covering to fall apart, and reveal his real resent underneath.

“Are those crotchless,” his graveled voice trimmed down from his perfect, pink, kiss swollen lips in almost a whisper. 

Y/N shrugged, smirking. “Well Dean, you said that these kinda things are pointless because they always ended up on the floor anyway, so I decided I’d save you the trouble and just get a pair of easy access ones that can stay on.”

As she spoke, Dean’s mouth attacked her throat, laying the pair of them back onto the bed behind her carefully. His cock already hard and straining against his black boxers, begging to be released, so she obliged, and slid them down his hips so that he could kick them off, leaving himself bare before her. 

“How did I get so damn lucky?” Dean questioned just as his perfect mouth sealed over her already erect nipple from the cool temperature of the room contrasting with the fire that Dean was already stoking inside of her. His fingers slipped between her folds, teasing her already sensitive clit as he worked her over, making it harder and harder for her to concentrate. “So fucking beautiful Y/N.”

“Pretty sure I’m the lucky one De,” she managed to say between desperate pants as Dean moved over to the other breast, determined to not leave anyone out, and slipped his thick fingers into her slick heat with ease, curing them in all the right places as he slowly pumped them in and out of her dripping cunt, causing the cord in her stomach to wind tighter and tighter until she was cumming undone underneath him, screaming his name like a prayer. 

“So fucking beautiful Y/N/N,” he repeated as he kissed his way back up to her face, leaving as many little wet, opened mouthed kisses as he could muster as he did while she slowly decended from the high he’d driven her too. 

“Your turn handsome, it is your birthday after all,” she tried to sit up, but he stopped her, his wide palm resting softly against her shoulder to hold her back down as he pumped his pink, fully erect, leaking cock in his hand. 

“No, no princess, it’s my present, and I”ll play with it however I want too, and baby I wanna watch,” he growled  as he carefully slid his swollen length through her slick, gathering as much of her juices as he could before sliding into welcoming center, moaning audibly as he watched her body close in around him, covered in black lace. 

He pumped slowly there, watching his body disappear into her own, mesmerized by sight that lay underneath him, and she shivered as each slow drag of his manhood through her quivering cunt drover her too damn near insanity, stretching her and filling her, but never quite giving her what she needed.

Without warning, Dean flipped the pair of them over, settling her on top of him so that he could watch her more easily, totally and completely captivated, like a man starved, or a blind man seeing for the first time. She would never understand why he always looked at her like that. Not when she felt like the lucky one. 

Dean was a man of few words, but he didn’t have to say anything as she slowly rose and lowered herself on his dick, causing him to toss his head back and his eyes to roll momentarily as his hips rose and feel to meet her pace until neither of them could take it anymore and she began to ride him in earnest. Leaving the room filled with sounds of heavy breath and skin against skin. 

Dean’s thick fingers sank deep into her thighs as he rolled his hips up to meet her, he was so close, she could see it in the way he strained to hold on as long as he could, drag it out as long as possible, until his body was shaking underneath her own, and his dick twitched heavily as he came deep inside of her, triggering her own release as well. 

“Sammy’s gone all night you said?” Dean panted as helped her off of his softening cock to lay down on his heaving chest, 

“Yep, all night,” she chuckled. 

“Good,” he replied, “cause in fifteen minutes we’re going again.”

Forever:

@wittysunflower

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Jensen and Dean’s Babes

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@ladysparks78

[calumsrockstar]

Bunny - Ashton Irwin

a/n: DADDY ISSUES NATION RISE! This is my longest fic until now, and it´s inspired by @rip-quizilla.

word count: 3k

Where you find a mysterious hot neighbor.

Contents: MAJOR AGE GAP (reader is 19 and Ash is 44), perv!ash, spanking, pet names, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m recieving) masturbation (f and m), corruption kink, daddy kink

Older!Ash x Reader

You entered your brand new house, it was small, but spacious considering it was your first. Your mom and your dad finally let you move out, giving you all the privacy you needed.

For the first month everything was normal, until you heard almost every mom in the neighborhood talk about a handsome and mysterious Mr. Irwin. Only to notice that he was living right next to you.

You were curious, since moving to the neighborhood, you´ve never seen what he looked like, your window was right opposite his, but he always kept the curtain closed.

Adjusting yourself, you looked at the mirror and flattened your yellow sundress. It was a hot summer day, and what better way to quench your thirst than to deliver lemonade to your supposedly hot neighbor?

You opened the fridge to get a large jug of your homemade lemonade, and left the house, leaving the front door unlocked.

Walking to his house, you took deep breaths, and knocked on the door. Now you wait.....

A tall man opened the door, looking to be in his 20s. His light brown hair looked soft and curly. his skin sunkissed. "Hi there." He smiled. Making you forget why you were there.

Holy shit.

"Um-hi." You smiled. "I moved here a month ago and I ́ve never said hello, I decided to bring you some lemonade. Some friendly neighbor activity." You chuckled.

He looked you up and down, basically devouring you with his eyes. "That's awfully kind of you." You detected some kind of accent. "It 's no problem." You replied.

"Sorry if this is too direct but, how come i´ve never seen you before?" You asked him. "At my age, I don't go out of my house much honey, I like to read, play music." You raised an eyebrow. "Your age? Like 25?"

He let out a throaty laugh. "You flatter me." Making you smile. "How old are you?" You asked. "If you don't mind me asking of course." He grinned. "Guess."

"28?" He shook his head no. "30?" He shook his head no again. "35?" You asked, hoping you didn't say he was too old. "More." He grinned. "No fucking way." You replied. "40?" He clicked his tongue. "You're getting closer." Your mouth was practically on the floor. "I´m 44, sweetheart."

"What? That's insane." You smiled. "You definitely don't look or act 44." You said. "Hey, how is a 44 year old supposed to act?" He chuckled. "I don´t know, smoking cigars on your front porch, maybe?" You smiled. "I´m young at heart, you know." He leaned down to talk to you.

"How old are you, little lady?" He grinned. "I'm 19." He widened his hazel eyes. "19, wow. Basically a baby." You fake pouted. "I'm not a baby." You smiled, teasingly. "You are to me." He replied. You frowned. Did he actually think of you as a kid?

"What´s a young girl like you doing living all by herself?" He asked. "I just moved out, I wanted some privacy." You replied, making him raise an eyebrow. "Privacy, huh? You sure you´re not gonna throw any parties?"

You laughed. "That's not what all kids do these days, by the way. Maybe in your time, Mr. Irwin." You put your hand on your forehead. "That was rude, i´m sorry." He laughed. "How do you know my last name?" He smiled.

You turned pink. "Well, you must know that women talk about you." He raised an eyebrow. "Do they?" He chuckled. "Yeah, all the time." You replied.

"Can you tell me what they say?" He smiled, making you turn an even deeper shade of red. "Well, they all say you're really handsome and stuff... And how they wonder if you have a wife." You smiled. "No, I don't have one, sweetheart." He grinned.

Oh god yes.

"Oh, that's good to know. I mean, that's cool." You stuttered. Making him chuckle. "Well, I guess I´ll see you around, Mr. Irwin." You said turning your back. "Please, call me Ashton." He blurted out. "What's your name?" He asked. "It´s y/n." You smiled. "Nice to meet you y/n." I hope to see you soon." You looked over your shoulder and nodded.

When you turned around, Ashton couldn't help but look at your ass. It was sculpted and it drove him crazy. He could tell you were definitely trouble.

Ashton closed the door, and smiled. You were the only thing he could think of for hours. He wanted to get to know you, to know what your interests were, your life. He already was utterly obsessed. He felt like a teenager again, with hormones blossoming inside of him.

You were sweet and innocent, like a bunny. Something deep inside him wanted to ruin you.

You could not help thinking of him too. His tattooed arms, his curly hair, how his tank top hugged every place of him. How his shorts were tight around his bulge.

Shit. You wanted to fuck your 44 year old neighbor.

Ashton let his curiosity get the best of him. He finally opened his office window, to see if he could peek inside your house. Fortunately for him, this was the window directly opposite your bedroom.

After a long day, you decided to go to your bedroom to relax. Kicking off your shoes and getting out of your sundress. It was hot, so you absentmindedly left your bedroom window open, not knowing you had a spectator.

"Holy fuck." Ashton thought, his jaw was on the ground. You were wearing a lacy pink underwear set. The dim lighting in your room made you look ethereal.

Ashton was getting harder by the second. He knew this was wrong. Spying on his innocent little neighbor. But at this moment, he could care less.

You took off your bra, slowly. Ashton watched your breasts slip out of them, he thought he was dreaming. You were the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.

You reached in your bedroom drawer and found a pretty pink vibrator that you've stashed there. You laid down, tracing circles over your panties with the vibrator, letting out little whimpers.

"No fucking way." Ashton mouthed. He couldn't take it anymore. He took his cock out of his pants, bubbling with pre-cum. He felt like a pervert, but this turned him on even more.

Little y/n wasn't as innocent as he thought.

Taking off your panties, your pussy was on full display. Making Ashton´s mouth water.

You pressed the vibrator on your clit while you inserted two fingers inside of yourself, curling them. The shock made your back lift off the mattress, with a moan so loud you were sure your neighbor could hear.

All you wanted was Ashton. You wished his fingers were inside of you, you wished he was fucking you.

Ashton started to rub himself, watching intently. So what if you saw? He thought. His cock was throbbing, he was desperate to be inside you. Every muscle in his body ached for you.

You started to squirm, your clit throbbing with pulsing sensations that made you convulse in bed. While Ashton was shivering. This is the most turned on he´s been ever.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck." You moaned while you bit your lip, feeling that familiar feeling in your stomach. Ashton started fucking his fist, harder and faster.

"Fuck! Ashton!" You screamed when you came. Putting your hand to your mouth when you realized what you said. At the same time, Ashton came all over his hand, panting hard. His curls were sticking to his forehead.

Did she just say my name? She couldn't have.

-----

In the morning you decided to lounge by the pool, and get some sun. You put on your favorite blue bikini and put your hair in a bun and headed out to the garden.

You opened up the door to your yard, secretly hoping a certain hazel eyed man would stumble in.

Sitting on a lounge chair, looking at your phone you noticed a tall figure looking down at you.

"Fuckin´ hot today, eh?" It was Ashton. A shirtless Ashton. Looking you up and down with no shame. "Good morning Mr. Irwin." You smiled. "You're finally out of the house." You added. "I wanted to see you, darling." He replied. Your mouth turned dry.

"You wanted to see me?" You repeated, making him smile. "Why do you want this old man out of your garden?" He chuckled, making you giggle. "Nah, c´mere." You told him, making a "Come hither" motion with your finger.

Just to think those were the fingers that were inside you last night made him shiver.

You tucked your legs in and motioned for him to sit at the tip of the lounging chair. When he sat, you spread your legs to fit around his thighs.

The only thing separating your pussy from his back was a flimsy piece of fabric.

"So, where are you from?" You asked him. "I´m originally from Australia, but I moved here a few years ago." You nodded. "Why´d you move?" You asked, picking at his sunburnt shoulders. "I think I just wanted to move on with my life, start a new chapter." He looked back at you and smiled. "Fair enough." You smiled back.

"I haven't noticed your tattoos." You said, stroking your hands on his arm. "Yeah got a few of them, love, years of experience." He smiled. "This one's my favorite." You pointed at his snake tattoo on his bicep. "It's one of my favorites too."

"Do you have any more tattoos?" You asked, rubbing both of his thighs. "y/n..." He melted into your touch. "I'm just asking." You grinned, placing a kiss on his neck. "Jesus Christ." He chuckled in between shallow breaths. "Are you sure?" He asked. You muttered an "mhm."

"I´ve seen you eye fucking me, Ashton, when we first met, when I was taking out the trash, right back then..."

He stood up, turned to face you, and sat back down."Dirty girl... When I was in college you weren't even born yet." You shrugged your shoulders, smiling. You could feel a wet patch growing in your bikini bottoms.

"I was touching myself thinking of you last night." You whispered, making him grin. "Me too." He chuckled. "You just looked so pretty yesterday... Your window was open." Your mouth dropped. "You perv!" You smiled. "Hey, you´re the one touching yourself thinking of an old man fucking you." He grinned.

"You looked so cute squirming, bunny." This sent shivers down your spine.

"Please kiss me." You pleaded. He wasted no time. He held your face with his two hands and kissed you, the kiss was fervent, urgent. Your tongues battling between each other, barely giving you space to breathe.

"Do anything you want to me, Ashton." You told him. "Anything?" He asked. "Anything." You smiled. "That´s a very bold claim to make." "I mean it." You smirked.

"Stand up." He ordered, doing the same as you. "You brought this upon yourself." He smiled, as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, making you scream and giggle.

He unlocked his front door and carried you inside. You observed three guitars and a huge drumset in his living room, complete with 10 pairs of drumming sticks.

He placed you on the couch that was big enough to fit four people, putting enough force for you to land with an "oomph."

"You look so cute, babygirl." He smiled, making you blush. You decided to make a risky move. "Thank you, daddy." You replied, waiting for his response.

You could see his eyes visibly darken, and his mouth turned into a grin. "Holy fuck, y/n." He smiled. "Want me to be your daddy?" He asked you. You could only mutter an "mhm." Your clit was throbbing, practically begging to be touched.

He trailed a finger through your bikini bottoms, making your whole body shiver. "So wet for me, and I haven't even touched you, bunny." He whispered in your ear. "Please, Ashton." You mewled.

He tugged at the strings of your bikini top and undid them. "You have such perfect tits, princess." He said, while fondling them. Placing his mouth on one and nipping at it, making you whimper. "So sensitive, too." He smiled.

Kneeling in front of you on the couch, he tugged on your bikini bottoms taking them off. You clenched your legs together, by instinct, blushing. "No need to be shy, princess." He smiled, gently pushing your legs apart and peppering little kisses on the inside of your thighs.

"Such a pretty pussy." He cooed. "Fuckin´ perfect."

He kitten licked your clit, making you let out a breathy moan. He looked up at you, waiting for your approval. You nodded and smiled, making him grin.

He grabbed your lower back with his big hands and pulled you closer to his face, making you gasp.

His pupils were blown out with lust. Dipping down to face your sex. Without warning, he dives in and you feel him licking a long strip between your wet folds.

"Fuck! Ashton." You exclaim, grabbing his curls and digging your fingers into his scalp. He winced at the pain, but he definitely enjoyed this.

You grind against his mouth, while his tongue draws circles around your clit. Throwing your head back into the couch, your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

The sensation was almost too much. His eyes never left you, enjoying the sight of you convulsing on the couch. Your pretty moans were like music to his ears.

He licks faster and faster. Groaning inside of you. "I'm getting- I'm getting close." You said in between shallow breaths. He starts sucking on your clit harshly, the sounds were borderline sinful.

You felt a tightness inside your stomach, like a cord waiting to snap. "Don´t stop, please." You mewled.

Your orgasm washes over you, making your whole body shake, clenching your walls around Ashton´s tongue. "Oh my God." You smiled.

Ashton surfaced, his lips were puffy and his mouth was covered in your slick. "Hi." You giggled. "Hi." He repeated, smiling. You covered your face with your hands, and blushed.

"Can I taste you?" You asked. "I-um, fuck yes." He stuttered. "Yeah, you can taste me."

He takes off his shirt and gives it to you. "Here baby, for your knees." You smile and bunch up the soft cotton material on the ground.

You kneel down in front of him, pulling his shorts down and snapping the elastic band of his boxers, finally freeing him. His erection sprang up at you. It was the longest and thickest cock you´ve ever seen.

"See how you make me feel, bunny?" He asked, making you smile. You pumped his shaft a few times to test the waters, making him groan deeply. "Fuck, y/n..." He moaned.

You kitten lick his tip, tasting his salty pre-cum, making Ashton´s whole body shiver.

Sinking down, you took his whole length, gagging. Ashton gently grabbed your hair, holding it to get it out of the way. Bobbing your head up and down, swirling circles around his tip.

"Fu-uck..." He moaned. "You're so perfect." He breathed deeply.

Soon enough, he was moving his hips, increasing his pace while his head was thrown back. "Makin´ me feel so good, sweet girl." He groaned.

He pulled himself out of you, grabbing you by the hair. "I´m not gonna be able to fuck you if we continue this." He chuckled. "Want daddy to fuck you, bunny?" He asked, making you nod. "Please, that's all I want, please." You begged, making him smile darkly.

You both stood up. "C´mere." He said, picking you up bridal style. You were still surprised as to how he could pick you up like you were nothing.

Taking you up a big staircase, you found yourself in a huge master bedroom, complete with another drum set, and vinyls hanging on the walls.

He plopped you down on the bed, a bit more roughly this time.

He looked around, opening a few drawers. "What 's wrong?" You asked. "Shit, I don't have a condom." He muttered. "I'm on the pill." You smiled, making him grin as well. "That's all you needed to say." He replied, taking off his shorts and underwear.

He climbed on top of the bed, hovering over you. "Daddy's gonna make you feel good, sweetheart." He smiled, you watched his eyes darken.

He puts a hand on your throat and pushes his mouth in for a kiss, hard, sloppy, hungry.

"You okay?" He smiles. "Yeah, just please fuck me Ashton." You pleaded. "Atta girl." He responded.

He grabbed your hips and slowly pushed himself inside of you, hissing at the feeling. The initial stretch burned, but slowly but surely you got adjusted to his size.

"Fuck, you´re so tight, bunny." He groaned, starting to pump in and out, guiding your hips, making you arch your back off the mattress, if they could, your eyes could roll into the back of your head.

"Please, faster." You exclaimed. You were lightheaded, becoming cockdrunk, letting out little moans that made Ashton go wild. "Want to ruin you, so nobody but me gets to use this pussy."

"Fuck! Just like that!" You exclaimed, feeling the pulsing wave of pleasure continue to grow inside of you, clenching around his cock. "You're taking me so well baby girl, won't last much longer with you clenching around me like that." He breathed rapidly.

"I'm close, Ashton." You repeated. "Cum for me bunny, let me feel that perfect fucking pussy." Those words were enough to make you cum alone.

You felt a familiar feeling inside your stomach. You felt Ashton´s cock twitch inside of you, meaning he was close as well.

You released yourself, gushing all over his cock, "Mphhhh.." You mewled and he filled you up to the brim with his cum, with a deep groaning sound,almost animalistic. he pulled out of you, letting his cum spill all over the sheets.

"Give me a second." He said, getting up and going to the bathroom, retrieving some wipes to help you clean up, discarding them in a trash can next to his bed.

"Was that okay?" He smiled. "It was perfect, Ashton." You grinned, looking up at him, pulling him into a kiss.

"Jesus, y/n, you´re gonna be the death of me." He curled his lips up into the kiss.

[scoobydoodean]

A Fic About Dean's 45th Birthday

~3k words | slight angst with a happy ending

Dean never says anything about his birthday.

Sam has weird hang ups about holidays like Halloween and Christmas, and January 24th isn't just Dean's birthday—it was Jess's birthday too. So Dean's never made a fuss. He's asked for Christmas, but he's never asked to have his birthday celebrated. There are many years he can think of where he wouldn't have even wanted to celebrate his birthday anyway—where the idea of it would have felt hollow.

He's said before in front of Sam and Bobby, "I don't like being singled out at birthday parties, much less by God" and he figures maybe Sam has always remembered that, and probably told Cas too (if Cas ever asked).

Right. It all makes sense.

So he has no reason to expect Sam to realize that Dean actually wants to celebrate his birthday now—that he has wanted to for... the last three years, ever since Mrs. Butters insisted they throw a birthday party for Sam.

He can't stop thinking about Mrs. Butters saying they shouldn't celebrate Dean's birthday—or... rather, that she thought he wouldn't want to celebrate his birthday because he's old... and just... fuck that.

The truth is, the older Dean gets, the more his birthday feels... important. For one, he's officially spent more time not in Hell now than he spent in it. For another, 45 just feels... important somehow. It isn't 50—but it's another half a decade? He thought he'd be dead by now (well—he supposes he has been—but it hasn't stuck yet) and he doesn't know—it just feels like... like something to celebrate. He's 45 years old, and he isn't dead. He's alive, and he's happy, and things have been good lately.

He keeps thinking about it every year that passes better than the last. He keeps wondering every year. He keeps hoping every year—even though he knows it isn't rational when he hasn't said anything. He hasn't asked. He hasn't told anyone that anything's changed. He can't expect a birthday party if he doesn't communicate that he wants one. At the same time, asking for one feels weird. It feels... whiney. Nobody else is asking.

Dean's done birthday meals for Sam the past couple of years without Sam asking (stooped to making a caesar salad with grilled chicken for Sam's birthday last year with minimal grumbling) but it doesn't seem to make much of an impression. Sam is just... not much of a birthday guy. He's quiet, and to be honest, Dean's pretty sure he prefers celebrating with Eileen if he's going to do anything. She usually swings into town around Sam's birthday to take him out drinking. Well. He'll be celebrated whether he likes it or not—at least a little—at least with a meal.

Dean doesn't know when to celebrate Cas. He's asked before and Cas said something about being created before humans or their methods of marking the passage of time existed and... yeah, okay. Dean's favorite local diner sells good pie, and has a nice selection of milkshakes, including a PB&J flavored one. For the last few years, once a year, on September 18th, Dean tries to either take Cas out for one of those milkshakes, or pick one up for him. The date just feels right.

Dean puts the most effort in for Jack, with a full on cake ever since Mrs. Butters. Sometimes, he adds a bag full of Three Musketeers candy bars. Cas and Sam certainly don't raise a fuss. They all silently agree that the kid should get the birthday experience even if the rest of them are too old and jaded to care.

42, 43, 44... every time January 24th rolls around, it's always just like any other day. He thinks maybe when he turned 43, Sam might have wandered into The Dean Cave at night when Dean was watching a movie with Cas and sat for a while, then belatedly said, "Oh. Uh, happy birthday, man," while staring down at his cell phone. That was it.

Dean had brushed him off with a grunt—probably only reinforced for Sam and Cas both that Dean doesn't care just like they don't seem to care. So it isn't rational. It isn't fair. It isn't reasonable for Dean to get upset. But maybe it starts to sting a little, okay? And yeah that makes Dean feel a little embarrassed—sue him. He hasn't said anything... and he shouldn't. It's stupid. It doesn't matter. Mrs. Butters said he's too old for birthdays.

Still, despite his best efforts, Dean goes to bed on January 23rd 2024 wondering if someone will remember—if maybe, this time, they'll do something... because... he's 45. Something simple is all he imagines. They go out to eat, or... someone else makes breakfast (or tries). Sam give him a stupid gag gift. Cas picks up a pie.

As Dean falls asleep, he stupidly imagines the library decorated with a tiny "Happy Birthday" banner. He imagines a stack of pancakes for breakfast with a stupid candle in them. He imagines party hats and Rice Krispie treats. He imagines someone just... wishing him a happy birthday. Just... acknowledge it—that he's 45. That it's important.

Dean wanders into the library in the morning and it's empty and dark. He goes into the kitchen, and Sam is illuminated by his laptop screen. Dean flicks on the light and Sam barely flinches. "Hey," He says, keeping his gaze on his work... and that's it. That's how January 24th 2024 is going to be.

Dean shakes himself out of it—doesn't reply—just wanders over to the coffee pot to pour in grounds and get a drip brew going. Who knows if Sam has even slept—he's been deeply fixated on a cataloguing project for two weeks straight now. It's entirely possible he pulled an all-nighter. He might not even know what day it is anyway.

Dean opens the fridge and drags out the bacon. He considers toast too, but then decides that... well—he can celebrate his own birthday at least by making it special himself. He goes to the pantry and pulls out a boxed pancake mix he picked up who knows how long ago.

Just add milk and eggs.

Dean eyes the half-burnt-out pack of birthday candles in the junk drawer, stored there last May 18th. He closes the drawer, rolling his eyes at himself, and flips his pancakes as they start to bubble.

When breakfast is finished cooking (enough for Sam and Cas and Jack too, of course) Dean makes himself a plate and plops down across from Sam at the kitchen table.

"Big stack of pancakes," Sam murmurs—and Dean could swear there's a vaguely judgmental lilt to it.

Dean's eyes burn, which is stupid. He cuts through all five pancakes and shoves a huge bite in his mouth, staring at Sam across the table stonily as he chews.

Sam glances up and makes a bitch face, but doesn't say anything, returning his focus to his laptop

"What are you doing that's so damn interesting anyway?" Dean grumbles.

"Still cataloguing. Actually, Eileen is coming over to help me. We're gonna drag that last shelf of books into the library from the archive room and scan it all—finally have everything digitized."

Dean's heart sinks. It's gotta be at least 1,000 books.

Sam gets up from his chair. "I was gonna wheel everything in from down there and stack it on the tables before she gets here. You wanna help me?"

"Uhh..."

"Right," Sam scoffs lightly, making his way over to the coffee pot. "No problem."

"Look—I'm glad you enjoy that shit," Dean poorly pronounces through a mouthful of chewed food, stabbing another bite before he's finished this one. "Because someone has to—but moving and cataloguing books is the last thing I wanna do on my birthday."

It slips out without Dean really meaning for it to. He feels like the pancakes he's eaten are crowding his throat. He grabs his glass of water and swallows quickly, watching Sam over the rim of his glass.

"Oh," is all Sam says though—glancing at Dean, then his watch, before pouring his coffee into a mug. "Uh... happy birthday."

Dean looks down at his plate. "Thanks."

Sam clears his throat unusually loudly. "You know—I'm gonna be busy, but maybe... you ought to make a day of it," He suggests suddenly, leaning against the counter with his mug in a way that does not look comfortable or natural.

Dean immediately smells deceit, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. "What do you mean?"

Sam opens his mouth then closes it—shrugs. "You know—go out on the town... see if Cas or Jack wants to do something together. I mean—I can't go—can't back out on Eileen, but..." He interrupts himself with a sip of coffee.

Dean narrows his eyes. "Are you... trying to get me out of the bunker right now?"

"What? No!" Sam has always been terrible at lying to Dean—always seems too indignant. "I just—maybe you should celebrate. You're like, 46 or something, right?"

"45!" Dean's voice goes up a whole octave, suspicion momentarily forgotten.

"Whatever," Sam waves him off. "Go get a nice drink somewhere or go see a movie."

Dean glowers.

Sam stares back at him, before opening his mouth and looking up at the ceiling. "Okay, fine. Me and Eileen uh... need the library."

Dean cocks his head to the side a little, processing, before the realization hits. A big grin spreads over his face. "Sammy, you sly dog..." Dean chuckles. "I know what this is."

"Uh...?"

"Yeah you and Eileen are gonna catalogue some books, huh? Heheh..."

Sam scowls and rolls his eyes. "Gross, Dean."

Dean raises his hands in surrender. "Message received. I will uh... clear outta here..." Dean gets up, collecting his empty plate. "And... make myself scarce until say....?" He looks at Sam expectantly.

Sam looks at the floor, the wall, the ceiling—anywhere but Dean, before saying, "...6:30?"

"I'll make it 7:00!" Dean declares, setting his dishes in the sink then striding out.

Jack turns out eager to go do something in town, which bolsters Dean's spirits. When they go looking for Cas though, and find him brushing his teeth in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, he says gruffly, "I have judo practice."

Cas has run through a stream of contact sports over the last three years, and so far, he's stuck with judo the longest. He's very good at it, and he takes it very seriously. It's kind of funny but also kinda... well—adorable at the same time.

"Why the fuck did you take a shower right before judo practice?"

Cas spits into the sink. "There is a man attending now whose gi is off white. Off white, Dean. Not because that is the color of the fabric, but because he never seems to bathe or wash his clothing."

Dean stares at him.

Cas shakes his head, seething at his own reflection in the mirror. "I know what he's doing... It's a strategy. He and I are enemies... and I will defeat him without stooping to his level."

"You are bathing before practice as a 'fuck you' to a smelly guy?" Dean clarifies. Suddenly Dean feels offended. "Wait a minute—how come this is the first time I'm hearing about this?"

"He's new," Cas grumbles. "He just moved here, and he smells, and he tries to tell the instructors they're doing things wrong. He's annoying and I hate him. Defeating him at this practice is very important, Dean. I'm sorry. Perhaps I could join you later."

"But it's Dean's birthday," Jack pipes up.

Dean looks at Jack, surprised, but also... touched.

Jack gives Cas a pleading look. Cas looks... put upon. He's giving Jack an almost... warning look, which is weird, but... bad day for Cas, maybe.

"No no—it's fine," Dean waves Cas off, and puts on an excited smile on for Jack. "You know what, Jack? All this means is that the two of us can go fishing."

"I hate fishing..." Cas grumbles.

"Exactly," Dean says. "So you won't miss out. Join us after your practice or whatever if you want. Sam wants the bunker to himself 'cause Eileen's coming over."

Cas tilts his head at him in confusion. "What? What does that have to do with anything?"

Dean gives him a look.

Cas stares back, then realization comes over his face. "...Oh," He says, glancing between Dean and Jack. "Uh... yes... so. Perhaps I'll join you after... fishing."

Jack seems eager to do a lot of activities. It makes Dean feel kind of good that Jack seems to appreciate birthdays, because Dean is the one who made sure they kept celebrating Jack's.

They pack sandwiches and eat them by the river while they fish, and then Jack says he wants to see a movie so they go to the theater, and even though it doesn't matter because it's all the same cash at the end of the day, Jack insists on buying the popcorn when Dean reaches for his wallet.

They still haven't heard from Cas by the time they get out of the movie. His practice should have ended hours ago.

"....What if we go see the world's largest ball of twine?" Jack asks. So okay. They do. Then after that, they go play mini-golf. Dean keeps checking his phone, hoping maybe Cas will call or text for their whereabouts and join them, but a message never comes.

Dean feels not only a little stung, but also kind of worried. He ends up texting Cas.

Dean: Just checking in.

Cas replies about 20 minutes later.

Cas: I apologize, Dean. Sam has roped me into actual research.

However much he doesn't want it to, it puts a damper on things—makes it hard for Dean to keep smiling. Sam just... didn't want he and Jack underfoot? Is that it? He thought they'd... get in the way? It kind of offends Dean. He and Jack are both perfectly competent at researching and Sam knows that. Dean just doesn't like this kind of project. At worst, he would have stayed out of the way—holed up in The Dean Cave or in his room to watch movies. If Sam's goal was getting them out of the bunker so they wouldn't bother him, it doesn't feel fair. It seems... mean.

Dean's throat feels tight. He puts his phone on silent before they get to the burger joint in the evening—tells himself he's jumping to conclusions—he isn't being fair.

At least... at least Jack is having a good time—smiling ear to ear. It's good to see him happy—especially after that upsetting stint as God. The responsibility of it... the weight... thinking about it had twisted Dean's stomach in knots some nights so bad he could hardly breathe, even if he never spoke to anyone about it.

Dean pulls into the garage right about 7PM, determined not to let any disappointment or hurt toward Sam or Cas show—reminding himself again that it's his own fault that they didn't know this day was important to him.

He decided on the drive home he'll say something about celebrating birthdays from now on... around late April, right before Sam's birthday so no one catches on that he's hurt. That'll... it'll make it easier to get it out anyway, Dean thinks—that this is something he wants—if it's first in the context of Sam's birthday instead of his own. He'll say he'd like to start making celebrating everyone's birthday a habit—say it's important to him. He'll ask, and plan a party for Sam, then they'll do one for Jack, then Cas... then, when Dean turns 46... maybe they can celebrate Dean's birthday all together then. Everyone being celebrated... it just feels right. It's something Dean just... wants.

He's also cooled off on Sam—convinced himself that Sam probably just didn't want Dean to feel obligated to help on his birthday while Sam was determined to be a bore—thought he'd have more fun getting out of the house. He just wishes Sam had the sense not to rope Cas in too.

Jack pushes open the stairs that lead down into the map room, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin as he hears a very loud chorus of voices exclaiming, "SURPRISE!"

Jack grins widely then, and says, "Come on, Dean!" He races to the bottom of the stairs, motioning for Dean behind him.

Dean can hardly believe it when the library comes into view.

His family is there. Not just Sam and Cas, but Eileen, and Rowena, Donna, Jody, Garth and Bess and their boys, Claire and Patience and Alex. Some of them are wearing party hats, others just smiling. Donna scoops him into a hug first, then Jody.

Dean is overwhelmed by the attention as he trades hugs with so many of their friends. His eyes are drawn to actual decorations. There are streamers hang from the ceiling, attached to brown balloons. There's a banner attached to a wall that says "It Is Your Birthday!"

"Alright—so I left Cas in charge of the decorating while I went to get the cake," Sam admits as he walks up and places a cup of punch in Dean's hand.

"I already told you—the balloons are the color of Scooby Doo!" Cas scowls.

"Oh yeah? And why are they so under-filled?" Sam says back, but he's laughing.

"They're perfect, Cas," Dean chokes, looking at all the effort Cas put in—overwhelmed.

A cake in the shape of Scooby Doo's face is laid out on one of the tables, surrounded by paper party plates and napkins with The Scooby Gang on them. There are... there are actual wrapped presents sitting on the the table further back. Like... a lot of presents.

"You... you did all of this for me?" Dean asks, looking at Cas and Sam.

"We lied so we could stay here and prepare," Cas admits. "Jack was supposed to keep you out of the house while we worked."

Dean glances at Jack then, who beams.

"I'll be honest though. I really thought you had me figured out this morning in the kitchen, Dean," Sam shakes his head, grinning.

Dean's eyes well up with tears. "You're still a bad liar," He croaks.

He doesn't even know if it's him or someone else who starts it, but suddenly they're all in a group hug.

"Happy 45th birthday, Dean."

"You deserve it."