#or toddler jack i guess in this case

[luveline]

more girl dad! hotch plsssss 😫😫😩😩😩

hotch navigates his small family ♡ mom!reader, 1k

Hotch speaks with a softness you could spin into silk. "That's okay, sweetheart. You fill this one out for me next." 

You peer through the small gap in the door. Hotch is sitting behind his desk with a case file open in front of him, though you assume any photographs are sequestered away, because in his lap sits a small girl, a toddler with dark, neat hair and a matching frown. 

"This one next," she says, picking up her crayon. 

"That one next. Good job, I'll be finished in no time with you helping me." 

"And we can have… uhm…" 

"Rusks?" 

"Yes, please." 

Hotch leans down to kiss his daughter's small head gently. "You're so polite. How about we leave all this grown up work and get you a rusk now?"

She turns on his leg to slouch into his stomach. Hotch picks her up, the sleeves of his shirt tightening at his biceps as he wraps them behind her back and under her butt, pushing the office chair aside with a careful leg. 

He sees you in the doorway and smiles. 

"Hi, Mr. Hotchner," you say. 

"Hi, mommy," he says, directing Jane's little body your way so she can see you where you're standing outside of his home office. "What are you doing?" 

"Just coming to check on you both. And I need help with something." 

You've stopped expecting him to pass you whatever kid it is he's carrying anymore. When Aaron is home, he's home, and he's dearly attached to his young daughter. He'd be attached to Jack if he weren't constantly out in the backyard looking for toads. He kisses your cheek, careful not to squish Jane between you. "What do you need help with?" 

"I can't get the lid off of the pickles and I promised Jack I'd get him the biggest one." 

"Why are our children so hungry?" he asks, putting his hand behind your shoulder as you walk down the stairs together. "Could it be because they both refuse to eat their breakfast, even when mommy says you'll regret it?" 

"Breakfast?" Jane asks, blinking owlishly. 

You smile at her. "No, sweetheart. Let's have rusks and milk, should we? With honey. Dad's gonna make it just the way you like it." 

Jack is back in the house tracking mud footprints over every inch of the kitchen. Only then does Aaron pass you Jane. She's light and easy to hold, she doesn't wriggle or gripe. Despite her resting frown, she's a happy girl who's content to be passed from person to person. "Daddy?" she asks. 

"Two seconds." Jack stands guiltily by the fridge, looking down at his shoes and then up at the ceiling, like looking away will get rid of the mess. "Jack, we've talked about this. You can play in the yard when it's wet if you take your shoes off before you come in."

"Well, I thought my shoes would be more dry," Jack says. 

"You can't leave water everywhere. What if Y/N slipped while she was carrying your sister? Then they'd both be hurt." 

"I guess," Jack says. 

"We're gonna have to mop it up. You can help me, buddy. You remember where we put the mop bucket?" 

You prop Jane on the island by the sink basin. She immediately puts her hand under the faucet, fascinated by the automatic water. "Wow, lots of fuss," you say. 

Aaron helps Jack take off his messy shoes and puts the mop bucket into the basin with a heap of praise for Jane's assistance, such a good helper. He lifts Jack up to squirt cleaner into the water. He's still laughing when he sets him down. 

"Rusks, dad?" Jane asks. 

Aaron almost barrels you over trying to hold her, lifting her back into his arms to kiss her soft cheek. "I am, I promise." He gives you a pleading look. "Honey–" 

"Yeah, okay. I never do the mopping, anyways. Me and Jack will learn together." 

You can hear him drowning Jane in love and sweetness as you and Jack get to work. "It's like this, babe, we push the mop head into the drain so we can soak up all the muddy water, then rinse and repeat." You drop your voice to a whisper, hands slack on the handle. "Don't worry, I'll do all the hard work." 

"Can we still have pickles?" Jack asks. 

"Of course we can. Dad's not mad, he just doesn't like the mess. Quicker we clean up, the sooner we can have a snack. You're not super hungry, are you?" 

"I'm starving." 

You put the mop back in the bucket, looking Jack up and down. He looks like he could use some proper warming after his time outside in the late September cold, pale cheeks rosy and his nose kissed with chill. 

"Aaron? Me and Jack have to pause the mopping, we're hungry." 

"Pretend I believe you and sit down. I'll make you something." 

"We really are hungry, dad." 

Jack takes your hand and pulls you toward the kitchen table. It's an organised chaos, your work things, Aaron's coat, Jack's science project. Underneath it lays a carpet of baby toys and Jane's washables; she plays under the table often to be close to her dad when he's working and you're cooking, or he's cooking and you're reading. 

You put him in a seat next to the highchair where Jane spoons warm rusk-mush into her mouth hurriedly. Aaron has secured a baby pink bib around her neck with a safety pin and filled her little sippy cup with watered down orange juice. She looks as happy as you've ever seen her as she misses her own mouth. 

You fill Aaron's seat as he vacates it to watch her. You and Aaron are good at filling each other's gaps, parenthood akin to the world's most loving game of musical chairs, and you're just as good at being together, you'd say —he squeezes your shoulders as he leans down. "For the record, you know how to mop. I just don't see why you should." 

"That's the right idea," you say happily, laughing as he kisses your cheek. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[sequinsmile-x]

Heartbeat on the Highline

She knew it was a fine line between being his wife and being his employee, and it was something she usually walked well. Balancing on it like it was a tightrope, a well-practised routine. But she felt like she’d tripped, like she was freefalling, and as much as she wanted him to catch her, to be the safety net she always claimed she didn’t need. 

AKA, the one in which Emily and Aaron get a call that their daughter has had to go to hospital whilst they are away on a case.

-x-

Hi besties <3

This is a fic I started a long time ago and never really got anywhere with beyond one particular scene, but I finally reopened the document today and finished it.

This fic brings my total word count to 1,736,161...which is more than the entire Game of Thrones book series (1,736,054) . Which is ridiculous and amazing and...just about everything in between. If George R. R. Martin ever actually releases the next book in A Song of Fire and Ice I guess I'll just have to beat him again!!

Thank you so much for your continued support of my writing, it means the absolute world. As long as y'all are here reading, I'll be here thinking of new things to put these two through!

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: Sick child, hospitals

Words: 4.3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily grimaces as she takes a sip of her coffee, looking down at the mug in her hand with disdain as she swallows. 

“Leaves a lot to be desired, doesn’t it?” 

She smiles as she looks up at her husband, “It’s not the worst we’ve ever had,” she mumbles, taking another sip and grimacing at the bitterness, “But it’s up there.” 

It had been a long day that had started with a phone call from Penelope before dawn. They were dragged out of sleep and their bed for a case. Aaron had called Jessica to ask her to come over to look after the kids as Emily got ready for the day, distracted partway through her make-up routine by their toddler crying out for her. Ines had been grumpy, the 18-month-old’s usual happy demeanour nowhere to be found as she demanded her mother’s attention, her slightly too warm forehead against Emily’s neck as she refused to be put back down. 

As they’d left the house and she’d handed her little girl over to Jessica she explained that Ines had a bit of a temperature. Familiar guilt had lingered in her belly all day, the reality of balancing her love for her job and her love for her children something she was never sure she got right. Leaving behind her daughter when she wasn’t quite herself made her heart feel heavy, a weight in her chest that she knew wouldn’t lessen until she was home again. 

Aaron smiles at her and nods towards the front of the bullpen, “Come on, the sooner we deliver the profile, the sooner we catch this guy. And then we can go home.” 

She nods and downs the rest of her coffee, putting her mug down before she follows her husband. She stops as her phone rings from her pocket and she pulls it out, her momentary joy at her wallpaper, a picture of Jack and Ines cuddled together on the couch, is immediately squashed. She feels a sense of dread when she sees Jessica’s name appear on her cellphone screen. It roots her to the spot, her limbs heavy, her grip on her phone tightening as everything else around her fades out, the sound of the rest of the team delivering the profile muffled as if she was behind glass. 

They had a routine. If they were away on a case Jessica would always send a text to check if they were free before she called so Emily and Aaron could say goodnight to Jack and Ines when they were away on a case. They would step away from whatever they were doing, she and Aaron huddled together around one of their phones as they spoke to their children just before they went to bed, an ache in her chest that Emily learnt never quite went away when one of them told her they missed her. 

This was different. It was only 5.45 pm, too early for either of them to be going to bed, even Ines, the 18-month-old well known for being occasionally defiant for anyone other than Emily when it came to bedtime. 

She shakes her head at herself, ridding herself of thoughts she’s sure are an overreaction and she briefly looks up, her gaze catching Aaron’s. She tilts her head towards the hallway she’s near and holds up her phone to tell him she has to take a call. He nods, his smile as reassuring as it was subtle, something only she would ever be able to pick up on. She answers as she steps away, not wanting the call to ring out, her instincts that something was wrong still vibrating under her skin.

“Jess, hi,” she answers, looking back over her shoulder to make sure she’s far enough away from everyone else that she won’t be overheard, “Is everything ok? You don’t usually call this early.” 

“Emily,” Jessica replies, and Emily immediately knows she’s right, that something has happened. Her training and profession both a blessing and a curse as she picks up on the poorly concealed concern in the other woman’s voice, “I’m so sorry to have you call you and tell you this, but Ines is in the hospital.” 

Emily feels like all of the air has been stolen from her lungs. Her breath catches in her chest, hooking onto her ribs in a way thats painful. She leans against the wall she’d been standing near, suddenly not trusting her legs to hold her up. Her shoulders press into the plaster, the coolness of it through her shirt barely registering. 

Something was wrong with her little girl and she was hours away from her. “Wh…what?” She asks, her voice hoarse. “What happened, is she hurt?” 

“No, she didn’t hurt herself,” Jessica says, her voice calmer now, naturally falling into the role of the caretaker she often filled, clearly picking up on Emily’s unusual display of panic, “She spiked a fever and I couldn’t get it down with Tylenol or anything else and,” she pauses, blowing out a breath before she continues, “She had a seizure.”

Whatever she thought Jessica was going to say it wasn’t that. Her stomach churns and she immediately feels sick, the distance between herself and home further than it had ever felt, the guilt she felt for leaving, even for work, when she’d known Ines wasn’t entirely herself that morning overwhelming.

“Oh my God,” Emily exclaims, her hand coming to cover her mouth, her nausea climbing up her throat. Before she can say anything else Jessica continues, giving her more details she doesn’t know how to ask for. 

“The doctors said she’s okay, it was brought on by the fever. It seems to be an ear infection and they are treating it now, they are also going to do other tests to make sure it isn’t anything else.”

“Okay,” Emily says, her throat dry, all of her efforts channelled into not bursting into tears in the middle of a police precinct. She clears her throat and swallows thickly, pushing down the bile that feels like it’s climbing up her throat, “I’ll be there as soon as I can, can you stay with her until I get there?”

She knows she doesn’t have to ask, that Jessica considers Ines as her niece as much as Jack is her nephew, but she does because she can’t think of what else to say. 

“Of course,” Jessica says, “I’ll text you the details of where we are.” 

“Thank you,” Emily breathes out, trying to steady herself, her nerves frayed to the point where they might snap. She’s immediately hit by another thought, cursing herself for not thinking of her son sooner, “Fuck, is Jack ok? Was he there when she…” 

She drifts off, sure if she said outloud that her daughter, her baby, had had a seizure she would fall apart right there. That pieces of her would spill out onto the coffee-stained carpet beneath her feet, something she couldn’t let happen until she saw her little girl, until she made sure she was okay. 

“He saw it happen,” Jessica says carefully, “He was scared but he’s okay now Ines is ok, he’s in there now reading to her.” 

Emily chokes out a laugh that sounds strangled, caught in her throat in all of the fear lodged there, and she nods despite the fact Jessica cannot see her.

“Good, I’m glad he’s okay,” She blows out a steady breath and she looks up as she hears footsteps, her smile tight as she sees her husband enter the hallway she’d sought solitude in. 

Regret fills her chest at the thought of what she has to tell him and she turns her attention back to Jessica on the other end of the phone. “I should go, but let me know if anything else happens ok?” 

“Of course.” 

Emily later wouldn’t remember if she said goodbye to Jessica, or anything beyond turning so she’s looking at Aaron properly, his eyebrows creased as he picks up on her demeanour, how something was clearly wrong. 

“Em?” He asks, stepping closer to her. His hand reaches out and wraps around hers, linking their fingers together in a way he usually wouldn’t at work, instantly providing comfort that she never has to ask for. He was always there, ready and waiting, aware of her needs often before she was, “Is everything okay?” 

She shakes her head in response. “No,” she swallows thickly and squeezes his hand in return, “It isn’t,” she clenches her teeth and presses her lips together, determined not to lose her composure, “That was Jess, Ines is sick. She’s in hospital.” 

It feels like a jolt of electricity, a rush of adrenaline that makes him feel frozen in place, sending a shiver up his spine. His stomach churns, the mere mention of his little girl being unwell enough makes him feel sick. He looks at his wife and he knows he has to pull it together. She was always the strong one, always the glue that held him together, but he knew their family, their children, were her weak spot. The chink in her impenetrable armour. She was barely holding herself together, the emotions he can see she is desperately trying to hide showing through the cracks in her facade.

He could fall apart later when they knew their daughter was okay, when they were home and by her side. 

“What happened?” He asks, stepping closer, making sure he is providing all the comfort he can. 

“She has an ear infection, her fever spiked so high she had a seizure,” her voice cracks on the last word and she looks at the ceiling, willing the tears she can feel gathering in her eyes to disappear, “I need to go home, Aaron. I need to see my baby.” 

It had never been in any doubt, the logistics of everything already playing out in the back of his mind as he stood there with his wife, “Of course, sweetheart,” he says, cupping her cheek with the hand not linked with his and briefly resting his forehead against hers, “Dave can take point here, we can get a flight-”

She looks at him, moving so fast she feels something pull in her neck, the pain barely registering. 

“We can’t both leave,” she says, even though she wants him with her, her words contradicting everything she was feeling, “We’ve barely been here a day.”

She knew it was a fine line between being his wife and being his employee, and it was something she usually walked well. Balancing on it like it was a tightrope, a well-practised routine. But she felt like she’d tripped, like she was freefalling, and as much as she wanted him to catch her, to be the safety net she always claimed she didn’t need. 

“Emily,” he says firmly, pushing down the spark of irritation in his gut at the implication that anything was more important than their family. He knows it’s unfair, that she’s like a frayed nerve right now, so he ignores it, aware she isn’t necessarily thinking straight, “There is no way I’m staying here when our daughter is in hospital. I’m coming with you. Okay?” 

She pauses for a moment before she nods, “Okay,” she says, her lower lip trembling, “Can I…can I have a hug?” 

It feels pathetic, like a ridiculous thing to ask her husband, but she asks anyway. Unsure what to do in this situation, this collision of their personal and professional lives, any pretence that they weren’t together, their relationship usually a point of interest to local cops if they figured out they were married, shattered on the floor around them. 

“Oh Em,” he says, pulling her into a hug, his lips against her temple as she settles into his embrace, “You never have to ask,” he kisses the side of her head and then pulls back, “I’ll go speak to Dave and then we’ll go home to see our little girl.” 

She nods, smiling tightly at him as she pulls back, her arms tight across her chest to hold herself together until he can do it for her again.

___

It feels like the longest flight of her life. Longer than the one that had brought her back from Paris, the flight that had brought her back from the dead, out of the place she had been hiding in the shadows for months whilst she waited for her demons to find her. 

This is worse. Her fear not for herself, or coming face to face with the man who had torn through her life like it was made of something no stronger than paper, but for her little girl. For her son who had seen his sister get so sick so quickly. It was paralysing in a way she could never have anticipated, as if her heart was outside of her body. Walking around in the form of an 8-year-old boy and an 18-month-old little girl, a price she’d happily pay for the rest of her life in exchange for the joy she felt as a result of being their mother. 

As soon as Aaron has parked up outside the hospital she’s out of the car, walking towards the entrance with a determination in her step. Aaron catches up with her, his hand wrapping around hers when he makes it to her side. He squeezes her hand, his fingers linked through hers as they walk into the hospital. They approach the nurse's station, Emily’s shoulders feeling tighter by the second. 

“Excuse me,” Aaron says, his smile frustratingly polite despite the circumstances when one of the nurses looks up at him, “Our daughter was brought in earlier, Ines Hotchner?” 

The nurse nods, typing on the computer in front of her before she looks back up at them, “She’s been admitted for observation,” she says, smiling reassuringly at them, “Paediatrics is on the fourth floor. She's in room 4102, the elevators are just down the hall.”

“Thank you,” Aaron replies, nodding before he turns around, his arm around Emily’s shoulders as he leads her towards the elevators, “Let’s go see our little girl.” 

They take the stairs, both too anxious to wait for the elevator now they are so close. They give Ines’ details to the paediatrics desk, and for a moment Aaron is sure he’s going to have to stop his wife from yelling at a nurse for just doing his job when he asks for identification. 

Emily takes a moment outside of the room they are directed to, giving herself a second to collect herself, aware that neither Jack nor Ines needed her to be a mess in front of them. Aaron places his hand on his wife’s shoulder, reminding her that he’s there, that he always would be. She puts her hand over his, hoping she can press her gratefulness, her love, from her skin into his. 

She never quite had the words for how she felt about him, for how she felt about her life. She’d grown up surrounded by people who never said what they really thought, every word calculated and purposeful. It left her unable to always express herself in the way she desperately wanted to, the words I love you never feeling enough. Not even scratching the surface of how much she loved him and their children, how she would burn the world down to protect them. 

She blows out a breath as she walks in, her heart seizing in her chest as she sees Ines, the toddler seemingly smaller than she usually was in the large bed she was sleeping in. Jack was asleep on the couch in the corner of the room, a blanket pulled over him and his arms hugging a cushion to his chest. Jessica turns to face the door as it opens, a relieved smile spreading over her face as she sees Emily and Aaron, 

“Hi,” she says as she stands up, walking over and pulling Emily into a brief hug, “I’m so sorry, I should have brought her here sooner.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Emily says, hugging her back, “There’s no way you could have known what would happen.” 

Aaron stores the comment away, making a mental note of it to remind her later when she inevitably blames herself for this, forever holding herself to a standard she’d never use against anybody else. Her concerns about turning into her own mother, something he knew was impossible, always lingering just below the surface. Breaking free through barely healed skin, pushing up through an always festering wound, whenever she considered herself a failure as a parent. 

Emily disconnects from Jessica and walks over to the bed and sits on the edge of it. She looks at Ines, who, apart from the IV in the back of her hand, her soft skin bruised on her arm where she’d clearly had blood tests. Emily reaches out and brushes some of her unruly hair from her forehead, the softness of it against her fingers easing some of the tightness in her chest. 

“The doctor said she’s fine, she should be able to go home tomorrow,” Jessica says, and Emily turns to look at her. 

“Thank you, Jess. For looking after her and staying until we could get here,” Aaron says, pulling his former sister-in-law into a hug. 

“Of course I stayed,” Jess says, rolling her eyes at him as she pulls back, her voice incredulous, “She’s my niece.”

Emily is about to respond, about to tell Jess how grateful she is regardless, how nice it was to know that her daughter was with someone who loved her until she could be there, but she’s cut off by a tiny voice. 

“Mama?” 

She turns back to look at Ines, forcing a smile on her face as her eyes meet her daughters, “Hi sweet girl,” she says, stroking her hand over her hair again, “Mama is here,” she says, her voice shaking a little, “How are you feeling?”

Ines shrugs, “Icky.” 

Emily chokes on a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh and she leans forward to kiss the toddler's forehead, “I’m sorry, baby. Mama is here now,” she says, not sure if she was reassuring herself more with the repetition of her assurance or her little girl. Ines grasps at the collar of her shirt, pulling her towards her with more force than she thought an 18-month-old should have. “Do you want me to snuggle with you?” 

“Snuggle,” Ines says, nodding as she tugs on Emily’s shirt even more, and Emily kisses her forehead before she stands, carefully rearranging the little girl in the bed before she joins her. More of the tension in her chest unfurls as Ines leans against her, curling up in her mother’s arms, the little girl releasing a sigh as she rests her forehead against Emily’s neck. Ines looks over at Aaron, her smile wide like it always was when she looked at her father, “Hi Dada.”

“Hi princess,” he says, closing the gap between him and the bed as he leans in to kiss his daughter’s forehead, “Are you feeling better than earlier? Aunt Jessie said you weren’t very well.” 

She shrugs, “Head hurt.” 

“It’s all better now, though?” Emily asks, lost in her own world with her daughter, her awareness reduced to just the two of them in the bed for a few moments. She smiles as Ines nods against her neck, and she kisses her forehead, “Good. Mama loves you.” 

Ines snuggles into her even further, getting heavier as she starts to fall asleep again, her words slurring together. 

“Love Mama.”

___

They convince Jack to go home with Jess when he wakes up. It takes a while, the boy resistant to leave his sister’s side, but he eventually relents when they promise he’ll see her tomorrow. Emily and Aaron both stay at the hospital, both of them not wanting to let their little girl out of their sight, the latter using his badge to convince the nurses to let them break the usual ‘one parent overnight’ rule. 

Aaron sits next to the bed, his focus on his wife as she watches their daughter sleep, her hand rubbing circles on her back. 

He remembered when they found out they were having a girl, the mix of excitement and fear that had crossed over his wife’s face as she asked the doctor to repeat herself something that was burned into his memory. She’d quietly admitted to him later that same day that she was worried history would repeat itself, that she was cursed to be the same as her mother. He’d assured her it wasn’t the case, that she was already a better mother than hers had ever been, that she had been since the moment she’d stepped into that role in Jack’s life. 

He knew moments like today she’d focus on the parts that seemingly confirmed her worst fears. That the distance between her and their daughter when she was sick was evidence that she was everything she hadn’t wanted to be. She wouldn’t acknowledge the fact that she’d got to her side as quickly as she could, that she’d glared at the air steward on the plane when he tried to make a joke about her nervous energy, or that she’d left work without even thinking about it. Her children her priority, the most important part of her life, which was something Elizabeth had never seemingly been capable of. 

“Are you okay sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low and quiet as he makes sure he doesn’t wake up Ines. 

Emily hums and looks up at him, her lips pressed together, “I…” she swallows thickly, “I don’t know,” she says honestly, closing her eyes in an attempt to stop herself from crying. She presses her lips together and her chin shakes, the emotions that had only been skin deep all evening finally starting to escape, “I wasn’t here, Aaron. She needed me and I wasn’t here.” 

It feels like her chest cracks open, the pressure of everything she’d stuffed in there breaking free, her ribs aching as she tries, and fails to suppress a sob. 

“Oh, Em,” he says softly, encouraging her to stand up, helping her lay Ines down on the bed so she stays asleep. He wraps his arms around his wife and leads her over to the couch, tugging her close and holding her tightly. She holds him back just as fiercely, her hands grasping fistfuls of his jacket as she sinks into him, her cheek against his chest as she keeps her eyes on Ines, her view of the little girl blurred by the constant stream of tears that didn’t seem to be going anywhere how they’d started, “She’s okay. She’s perfectly safe.” 

She pulls back to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed, “She had a seizure Aaron,” she says, biting the inside of her cheek to try to feel anything other than the tension in her chest, “Our little girl had a seizure and I wasn’t there. I was working. I knew she wasn’t well this morning, I knew it and I still went to work. What kind of mother does that make me?” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, his voice firm but kind as he cups her cheek, forcing her to look at him, “You could never have known that would happen. As soon as you knew something was wrong you were on your way here,” he says, stroking her skin, his calluses against her skin soothing, a reminder of his strength, of his love for her, “You’re an excellent mother.”

She sighs, “Honey-”

“I won’t argue with you about this,” he cuts over her, a soft smile on his face, “You’re an excellent mother,” he repeats, “And I know the two youngest Hotchners would agree.” 

She chokes out a sound, not sure what to call it herself, and she nods, too tired to argue with him, wanting nothing more than him to be right. She leans forward and presses her forehead into his shoulder, “Thank you for coming with me, I think I would have killed that air steward if you weren’t there.” 

“You definitely would have,” he quips, kissing the top of her head as he rubs his palm up and down her back, “And you don’t have to thank me,” he says, encouraging her to look at him, “Our family is always my priority too. No matter what.” 

She nods and leans forward, stamping her lips against his. It was moments like this that made her grateful to be the second person who was lucky enough to love him, to build a family with him. That he had learnt from his past, his complete lack of hesitation to come with her today all the proof she would ever need. It isn’t lost on her that he’s held back how he’s feeling, his own fear at their daughter being sick today buried deep in his chest whilst he helped her. 

She’d make sure she gave him the space as soon as he needed it, at the first sign that he was letting his well-constructed barriers down. 

“I love you,” she says, running her fingers through his hair. 

“I love you too,” he says, kissing her before he wipes tears from her cheeks, “Do you want to lay down with her again and try and get some sleep?” 

“God yes,” she replies, kissing him once more before she stands up, she looks at the bed and sighs, “I don’t think we’ll all fit.” 

“That’s okay,” he says, carefully lifting Ines so Emily can get back into the bed, her shoes kicked off and under the bed, “I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

She frowns at him as he settles Ines back onto her chest, “Honey, your back-”

“It will be okay for one night,” he says, even though they both know it’s not true, “Worth it so I can keep an eye on my girls.” 

She rolls her eyes at him as he tucks the sheet around them both, “You’re ridiculous,” she says, smiling softly as Ines shifts in her sleep, “Sweet, but ridiculous.” 

He presses a kiss against each of their foreheads and settles in the chair next to the bed, “Get some sleep, baby,” he says, “And tomorrow we’ll take her home and spoil her.”

“You always spoil her,” she murmurs, kissing the top of Ines’s head as she closes her eyes, the smell of her daughter’s hair soothing her. 

Aaron chuckles in response, watching as she falls asleep, their daughter safely curled up in her arms, “You’re one to talk.” 

-x-

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#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron x emily #hotchniss fan fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction

[rgbstatic]

“oh everyone died from the nuke on the dsmp”

uh. no? and. that’s not even me just being “actually no they live happily every after”

the nuke plan went according to plan, with the only small flaw of jack manifold setting one of 8 of the explosives to tommy’s house.

could there have been additional casualties, yes. if i were to guess it would’ve probably included sam and bad and a few others if they were even in the area.

tubbo accounted for the explosion size of the nuke, it would’ve blown up the prison and the area stretching towards bad’s house and tommy’s house anyway.

the explosive jack would’ve sent off would’ve been 8 times smaller than the full nuclear explosion, it wouldn’t have even reached punz’s house from tommy’s place.

all the angst of people from las nevadas or eret or whomever watching the light and being confused and dying that is just, literally incorrect.

there would’ve been a massive explosion yes, there are potentially a few extra casualties but that is provided those people are in that area, we know the central area of the smp is almost entirely deserted.

sam had even gone back to his home just before everything happened. almost no one other than tommy, punz, dream, jack, and tubbo were even close.

and yes people would’ve been highly confused at the explosion, concerned. some of the outer blast may have caused earthquake like issues, and there would be fallout in the immediate area just like tubbo’s original test explosion.

but… michael_beloved was far far away in a home with a ghost and an old man and probably wouldn’t have even seen the explosion, and would be okay. there was no “michael saw this bright light and asked what it is and ghostboo/phil shielded him away and held him close as the light touched them” like that did not happen those nukes literally were not that powerful.

we see the blast! it’s roughly double the size of doomsday which yes was big, but people in las nevadas, living far away, out in the snow, etc, would not have been affected at all by any sort of explosion.

we know this is the case because tubbo and tommy only went with the nuke option because that was the saving everyone option. tubbo knew the radius of the explosion and even with the small mishap of 1/8 of the explosives going to tommy’s house, it would never have reached where the majority of people were, which was no where close to the central smp.

which is ironic because the smp falling apart literally and on a meta standpoint and everyone being so divided and choosing to live so far from everyone else means a very vast majority of the smp characters live

anyway can we stop with the angst of killing a toddler alone with no one there for him when that didn’t even happen

#dream smp #tubbo #tommyinnit #dream smp ending #rgb talking

[thewritingboi]

Grand Reopening - Chapter 2

let's do better this time

"Just one week after the closing of 'Bear' Mr. Jack Kennedy is opening another Freddy Fazbenders pizza location" Said the newscaster in a very monotone voice "To quote a local parent 'I told you this was the worst possible timeline' and I am inclined to agree"

Today was finally the day, Jack walked up to the double doors and pushed them open to see his brand new restaurant. He saw Steven adjusting his tie getting ready work, at the same time Peter was chasing a herd of doggos that had stolen the hat to his new security guard outfit. Dave was arguing with Dee over the best food to put on a kebab, Blackjack look slightly annoyed as he was being carried by Dee around the restaurant.

well things seem to be going good so far Jack thought as he walked to the stage to see their newly built "rockstar" animatronics

"well, I guess Its time to open up" Jack stated before sticking two fingers in his mouth and letting out a loud whistle

Immediately Dave, Steven, Dee, and a still hatless Peter rushed over to the show stage.

"Wuddup, Old Sport?" Dave said

"We are about to open so i need everyone to be ready, Peter and Dee you are on security, Steven i need you to hire a night guard and any other employees that we need, and Dave you just be yourself." Jack ordered to his new employees

Alright, let's start making some cash and bringing joy to ungrateful toddlers Jack thought to himself with enthusiasm.

~~~~~ one and a half hours later ~~~~~

It was pure chaos.

Jack was running around serving pizza to families while Peter was fighting a Mysterious Giant Scuttler that seemed to be summoned the second the place opened. Dave was helping deliver pizza and cake while wearing a catsuit they had found at a nearby party city, Dee was strangely calm while watching and taking note of every child that came in and left. Steven was talking with people on his phone head who Jack could only assume were soon to be employees.  

Jack finished his deliveries and bolted to the security office shutting both doors before sitting down on the floor and giving a long, deep sigh. Jack sat there for a full 20 minutes before building up the courage to walk back out of the office. He began to walk to the show stage before getting an idea, Jack walked into the janitor's closet and grabbing three brooms.

A few minutes later Jack had successfully summoned Jimbo and convinced him to work at the restaurant, Jack walked around and saw that things were calming down and he could feel himself calming down. Though there was still plenty of customers there was still a lot less then before and Jack could not be happier.

After a few hours the restaurant was getting close to closing time and Jack decided to relax for a bit in the one place he knew no one would find him, the roof. He made his way to the roof and sat down on a chair he had set up earlier.

Jack sat down and began relaxing, until he heard the sound of a chair hitting the ground and a person landing in it.

"Why, hello there old sport." Dave smiled as he spouted his catchphrase

Jack watched as Dave sat on his dark purple chair wearing a purple jacket. he sat down a case of beer in between both of them.

"uh, thanks dave." Jack said

They both sat there, drinking their beers enjoying the sunset.

"Sportsy, you look cold." Dave said

Jack had not even realized that he was shivering

"I'm fine Dave" Jack lied

Jack looked away and continued to shiver until he felt the soft comfort of a jacket be draped onto him. Jack mumbled a quiet thanks before looking back at dave who was staring intently at the sunset.

And that's what they did, watched the sunset until it was time for them to go home.

Several hours later

Former resting place of "bear"

A hand reached out of the burnt wreckage of the destroyed pizzeria. A corpse stuffed in a burnt and decayed rabbit suit crawled out and stood up. The creature opened its eyes showing its glowing pink irises. The rabbit walked forward and found a singed box containing a fire ax. He picked it up and look toward the city

"I always come back"

___________________________________________

A/N

DUN DUN DUN

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter with the start of some DaveSport and the introduction to this different version of DaveTrap, what is different? you will have to find out. Still looking for feedback and I will see you on the flipside.

#dsaf #dsaf au #dayshift at freddy's #fanfiction

[catgirl-catboy]

Can I get Aiden facts? Like I'm weirdly attached that boy like Mika do! What did you put my drink Tenko!

Mika got weirdly attached to him too, or perhaps just really upset that she wasn't talented enough medically to save him. Its Mika, so her genuinely losing her cool is notable.

He comes from an entire family of musicians that travel around together. None of them are ultimate level talented, but are still quite well known.

As a result, he never stayed in one place very often as a kid, causing him to be very lonely during childhood. He loves music, but he wants to connect to people outside of it, you know?

He wasn't actually born mute. His entire family got ill when he was a toddler, and it knocked out his vocal cords. He was too young to really miss being able to talk, and just sees it as a fact of life.

A side effect of this is that he, alongside the rest of his family, are complete germaphobes. He constantly is wiping down his hands and carries hand sanitizer around. (I imagine that if he lived until my chapter four fear motive, he'd probably have to touch something incredibly gross and not wash his hands for the rest of the day. Yuck!)

This is relevant in case 2, since we find his germ gel left around, which he wouldn't do. This is theorized to be where he was abducted before getting murdered.

That being said, he really wants people his age to listen to him. He constantly feels like an outsider, due to most fans of his work being way older than him.

He's kind of sad that people think he's only into classical music, since that is generally what he's hired to conduct. He's a fan of all sorts of music! He'd jump at the chance to help out at a rock concert. Or a country gig. Or anything different from what he's expected to do!

He's really worried that he comes across as socially awkward, when that is not the case. He's perfectly polite, to the point of being passive when he really shouldn't.

While he uses TTS in game, his entire family communicates with him in sign language, so he's not very used to the interface. This poses a crapton of problems communicating until Mika casually admits she knows it too.

He's incredibly good at figuring out what made a sound, and where it came from. I imagine that this would be useful in case one somehow, but I haven't worked out how.

For instruments, he's a jack of all trades, master at none. If his family owns it, he knows how to play it, but conducting is where his real talents lie.

He knows how to compose music as well, and frequently conducts his own songs.

While he's about average height (5'5), he's quite skinny and easy to overpower. Mika says this could be why someone chose to go after him in case 2.

He likes birds, and wants to own one some day. He's undecided about the species.

Thematically, Tom the wedding planner made a comment about how he doesn't want to die alone, and the SHSL edgelord is like, "everyone dies alone deal with it." this is relevant because Aiden is the only character in this game that dies with someone who wasn't involved in the murder. Good for him, I guess?

His unused execution (it would never happen, he's not the type, being a Chihiro foil.) is that he has to force a bunch of talentless Monokumas to play extremely complex classical music. (its implied the execution win condition is if they play it perfectly, but who knows. The win conditions are designed to be unwinnable for the character in question.) They are goofing off, and not playing well in the slightest. Aiden tries to get their attention, but they ignore/don't notice him. Every time the piece is played incorrectly, Monokuma's in the audience pelt him with mud. Eventually, the Monokuma band gets fed up with being told what to do, and gang together to kill him.

#ask tag #crowtalks #aiden shsl conductor

[expectingtofly]

Incident at Playgroup

2.8k

fluff, established dean/cas, baby jack, human!cas, cas and dean terrorize other parents

dedicated to @thiscastielhasflown bc a few weeks ago we talked about tfw’s mcdonald’s orders and this fic happened. wishing you a good week with schoolwork assignments that only take half the time you expect them to, eventual restful sleep, and good grades <3

also posted on ao3

“Clown!” Jack yelled, pointing at the entrance to the McDonald’s indoor play area. A Ronald McDonald cardboard cutout guarded the door, holding a sign reading, You must be this tall to enter.

“Inside voice,” Dean said, though he wasn’t sure it mattered much when he could hardly hear himself speak. Recently, they’d joined a playgroup of parents and kids from Jack’s preschool, and this weekend, some of the moms had organized a playdate at the McDonald’s in town, one with a huge play area.

Meaning, they were now surrounded by screaming kids, diaper bags, and stressed out parents.

Dean winced as a kid shrieked from across the room. “We need to take a photo of you next to ol’ Ronald to show Sam.”

“Okay,” Jack agreed, jumping up and down in his chair.

Coming over with the tray of their food, Cas put out a hand to steady Jack’s chair. “That would be unnecessarily cruel."

Dean grabbed his Big Mac. “Yeah, well, he deserves it.” Before they’d come here today, Sam had repeatedly told them, quote, “please don't fuck this up again." Always was a polite bastard. “He’s gotta have more faith in us. What are we, amateurs?”

“Unfortunately, I believe that’s the point,” Cas said, sitting down and giving Jack his Happy Meal. “We don’t have the best track record with these sort of things.”

These ‘sort of things’ being playgroups. 

So, they’d tried a couple that hadn’t worked out. “Not like it’s our fault,” he said. “Take a seat, kid.” Jack ignored him, jumping in his seat as he waved to another toddler sitting nearby.

Cas beamed, holding onto the back of the chair. “He’s making friends, that’s a good sign.”

“Kid could make friends with a blank wall,” Dean said, but Cas was right—making friends was the whole point they were here. While Jack could make friends with just about anyone and anything—every crayon had a name and backstory, Cas’ trenchcoat was taken on make-believe-adventures, and the Impala could apparently talk, if Jack’s one-sided conversations during long car rides was anything to go off of—it was true that Jack was lacking in the friends-that-aren’t-hunters-or-over-a-decade-older category. There weren’t exactly many toddlers running around the bunker.

Hence, why they were spending their Saturday afternoon at the Hell on Earth known as McDonald's PlayPlace.

Jack held out the bag of apple slices that came in his Happy Meal. “Open.”

Dean stared him down and Jack added, “Peas.”

Close enough. Taking the bag, Dean told Cas, “Don’t look now, but Amanda is handing out brochures for Pampered Chef again.” According to Sam, that was another reason this playdate had to be a success—making friends with the right parents meant getting invited to more playdates and whatever other random events the parents came up with. It was like a weird society Dean had never known existed until Jack started preschool and started interacting with other kids his own age.

“I saw you using the food processor the other day,” Cas said, glancing over his shoulder to look despite Dean’s warning. Dean rolled his eyes. “I think it’s ingenious.”

“I’m not going to another two hour cooking demonstration.“

“Sam said we need to make a good impression.”

“He can go buy overpriced kitchen tools then.” It was a little too convenient that Sam had gotten out of taking Jack to this playdate—Dean had a suspicion that the multiple Ronald McDonalds stationed around had something to do with that.

He tried to hand Jack the apples, but Jack pointed at the play area. “Wanna play!”

“You have to finish your food,” Dean told him. Crossing his arms, Jack glared at him and stomped his foot on the chair.

“Just eat two more nuggets,” Cas told him. He picked up his filet-o-fish sandwich and glanced at Dean. “What?”

“You’re spoiling him.”

Jack stuffed his face with two chicken nuggets, which prompted Cas to give Dean a look. “Well, you’re teaching him bad table manners.”

Just to be obnoxious, Dean shoved half of his burger into his mouth in one bite. Jack laughed at him and Cas rolled his eyes.

“Done!” Jack announced, and Cas pushed his chair back so he could escape.

“These play places are gross,” Dean said, swallowing. “He’s gonna catch a disease.”

“Good thing he can’t get sick,” Cas said, watching Jack clamber up some stairs to reach a slide.

“Yeah, well I can,” Dean retorted. Jack went down the slide with a squeal. Landing at the bottom, he waved at them and Dean waved back.

“The Winchesters are here!” someone called too cheerily and Dean rolled his eyes, turning to see Ashley walking over. Lady thought she ran the group, always recruiting parents to bring snacks and toys to playdates. A little too high and mighty when Dean knew for a fact that the cupcakes she'd brought last week were store-bought.

Settling down into the seat next to them, she asked, “I wasn’t expecting you two today. Where’s Sam?”

Dean resisted rolling his eyes. Of course Sam was everyone’s favorite. Wasn’t his fault Sam was better at feigning interest in grocery lists and laundry piles. Parenting was hard enough without getting subjected to the unique torture of playgroup small talk.

“Him and Eileen went on a weekend trip,“ Cas answered easily and Dean nodded. They’d long given up trying to explain to others why Jack had a rotating list of parental figures accompanying him to playgroup, figuring if the other parents thought they were in a weird cult situation, at least that was better than them knowing the truth—like the fact that Sam and Eileen were away hunting a rugaru in Missouri. Though they were going to run out of excuses soon for why playgroup couldn’t be hosted at their place—an underground bunker with enough weapons to hold off an army.

“Well,” Ashley said, “I’m glad you guys were able to make it.” Yeah, that was a fake smile.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Dean said, plastering on his own fake smile. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.” Cas kicked him under the table.

“We’ve loved having Jack in the group,” Ashley said, and that might not be a fake sentiment. Jack could charm anyone. “Such a sweetheart. Lily adores him.” She smiled at where Jack and her daughter Lily were crawling through a tunnel at the top of the play area.

“Jack, no!” Dean called, seeing Jack stick his fingers in his mouth. “I’m so getting sick,” he muttered under his breath.

He was trying to come up with an excuse to get away as Ashley pulled out her phone to show them a new post on her mommy blog—boring, same old content. Give him a blog and he’d actually have something interesting to say—when he heard familiar crying from across the play area.

Without a second thought, he was pushing back his chair and rushing over, squeezing past playing kids and their parents to find Jack sitting on the floor bawling his eyes out and a bigger kid standing over him.

“What the hell happened here?” he demanded. He went to pick up Jack, but Cas was already swooping in and grabbing him.

“He pushed me!” Jack managed through his sobs, and Dean turned on the older kid.

“What the hell’s your problem?” The kid’s baleful expression faltered. He took a step back and Dean advanced on him. “You get off on making kids half your size cry?”

“Don’t speak to my son that way!” someone exclaimed, pushing through the crowd of kids and parents to glare at them. “What’s going on?”

“Your son is a menace,” Cas told the woman—Denise. Playgroup gossip said her son had gotten held back from kindergarten due to his inability to ‘play nice with others.’ Jack’s crying had subdued to sniffles, but Cas still held onto him like he might break apart. “He was bullying our son.”

“I’m sure it was an accident.” She put her hand on the kid’s shoulder. “You didn’t mean to hurt him, right, Tommy?”

Tommy only glared at them, and Dean glared right back. “He needs to apologize to Jack,” Cas said.

“Tommy, apologize.”

After several long, drawn out seconds, Tommy muttered, looking down at his feet, “Sorry.”

“I don’t think that was a real apology,” Cas said.

“It’s not my fault Jack’s a crybaby,” Tommy shot back.

“You little—” Dean started

“Take that back,” Cas snapped, and if he wasn’t human, Dean would’ve expected his eyes to start glowing fiery blue. Denise’s eyes grew wide, her grip on Tommy’s shoulder tightening.

“Is there a problem here?” someone asked, and Dean turned to see a McDonald’s employee hurrying over.

“Yeah, this kid shoved our son,” Dean said. “And he’s being a little shit about it.”

The employee’s expression turned shocked and Dean heard a few gasps from the parents that had crowded around to see the commotion. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave,” the employee stammered. “This is a kid’s play area, we won’t tolerate fighting here.”

“We were already going,” Cas said haughtily. He glared at Denise. “And if 'Tommy' ever lays a hand on Jack again, he will be sorry.” Jack’s expression was eerily similar to Cas’ as they shot twin glares at Tommy, and Dean thought he caught a spark in Jack’s eyes.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking Cas’ elbow and guiding him through the crowd of spectators before Jack tried to incinerate the kid. He wasn’t sure if that was one of Jack’s powers or not, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out in a crowded McDonald’s. Even if the snot-nosed kid deserved it.

The staff behind the counter was watching along with everyone else in the store, the once noisy place now brought to tense stillness. Cas snatched up the rest of their food and Dean knew they were already on the verge of getting the cops called on them, but he couldn’t resist turning and jabbing his finger at the little brat. “And don’t you ever fucking touch Jack again!”

Cas shot Denise and Tommy another look, Jack copying it over his shoulder, and Dean let the door slam shut behind them.

“I can’t believe the audacity of that woman,” Cas raged, strapping Jack into his carseat. Dean grabbed the wipes and leaned over the front seat to wipe Jack’s hands before he touched everything and spread germs around. “And her kid is exactly the same!”

Jack craned his neck to look back at the McDonald’s as Cas finished strapping him in. “Play!”

Getting into the passenger seat, Cas slammed the door shut. “You will not be going back there, not when those children are around. Dean was right, these play places are vile.”

“You alright, kid?” Dean asked Jack, shutting the wipe container.

Jack kicked his feet against the seat. “Hungry.”

Cas pulled out the container of Jack’s half-eaten chicken nuggets and Dean protested, thinking of a fateful day with a bag of cheerios—he was still finding them in every nook and cranny of the car. “No eating in the backseat.”

“He’s just been through a traumatic experience,” Cas said, handing the container to Jack. “We can make an exception.”

“Fine,” Dean muttered, gripping the steering wheel as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I always knew Denise was shifty. You saw the way she was trying to spin the story, making it out like it wasn’t her kid’s fault? Fucking asshole.”

“Asshole!” Jack agreed cheerfully from the backseat.

“That’s not a nice word, Jack,” Cas said. Quieter, he added, “But it’s accurate.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna send a message to the playgroup chat. Tommy’s behavior can’t be tolerated. Soon all the kids are going to become bullies.”

“He needs to be taught a lesson,” Dean agreed, glancing at Jack as he stopped at a red light, trying not to flinch at the crumbs on Jack’s lap that threatened to fall to the floor. “Needs to get knocked down by someone. Hear that, Jack? We’re gonna teach you how to fight back.”

Jack nodded. “I can fight!” He waved a chicken nugget around in mock punches and Dean gave up any hope of keeping the backseat clean.

“Maybe we can convince the other parents to kick Denise and her son out of the—Oh.” Dean looked over at him and Castiel winced. “We’ve been blocked from the group chat.”

“That makes three of them,” Dean muttered, pushing the accelerator as the light turned green. “We’re gonna end up on some blacklist soon.”

First playgroup, Jack had set a couch on fire. Since the "baby god testing out his powers” explanation wasn’t gonna fly, they went with the tried and true, “playing with matches” excuse. Didn’t stop the group from voting to kick them out.

Second playgroup, Cas had gotten in a fiery debate over the ethicality of beekeeping, and what was Dean supposed to do? Not back him up? He hadn't known you could get kicked out of the zoo for "disorderly conduct."

Alright, maybe Sam’s fears that they’d fuck up this playdate too weren’t completely off base.

“I think it’s time we give playgroups a rest,” he decided.

"But Jack needs to make friends."

"He's already got us, and Claire and Kaia and Alex and—"

"Charlie!" Jack added from the backseat.

"Charlie," Dean agreed. "He's got plenty of friends." Cas only stared him down with a particular smitey look in his eyes, and though Dean knew there wasn't a real threat behind the gaze, he sighed. "Fine. We’ll try again.”

"I already had one in mind," Cas said, brightening. "In case this one didn't work out."

“Done!” Jack yelled.

“Inside voice,” Dean said automatically. “Wait, you had a backup plan?"

“Yes,” Cas said, taking the empty container of chicken nuggets from Jack. “I thought it wise considering our track record. It’s a smaller group than this one was—Here, Jack, you want my ice cream?”

“Dude, seriously?” Dean protested as Cas handed an Oreo McFlurry back to Jack, who excitedly held out his hands. “That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Not necessarily,” Cas said. “I don’t think we’re that destined to fail again—Oh, you mean the ice cream.” He glanced at Jack, who was dripping ice cream onto his lap with every spoonful. “Um. Traumatic experience?”

Dean wasn’t falling for that excuse a second time. He started to say so, but Cas wasn’t listening, picking up his phone as it beeped several times in quick succession.

“What?” Dean asked, seeing a slow frown cross Cas' face as he stared at the screen.

Cas held up his phone to show several texts in a row. “We’re in trouble.”

On cue, Dean’s phone started ringing, the screen lighting up to display Sam’s name. Fuck.

“Sam would like to know why we’re all blocked from the group chat,” Cas said unhelpfully, and Dean rejected the call.

“Good luck explaining why.”

“Maybe the problem is us,” Cas said slowly. He met Dean’s eyes, then they both shook their heads.

“No, it’s those stupid parents,” Dean said.

“And their insufferable children,” Cas agreed.

“Insufferable!” Jack agreed from the backseat, ice cream smeared across his chin. Or that’s what Dean thought he was repeating, the word losing a few syllables along the way.

“Not you, Jack,” Cas said. “Every playgroup would be lucky to have you.”

“Just, they apparently don’t know it,” Dean pointed out. “Or we wouldn’t keep getting kicked out.”

His phone started ringing again, as if to remind him of the fact, and he looked pointedly at Cas. “You deal with him.”

“No, you,” Cas said.

“For fuck’s sake,” Dean muttered. Then he had an idea.

“Hey, Jack, tell Sam about what you saw today.” He turned on speakerphone and handed back his phone, not even caring that Jack’s hands were a sticky mess. Okay, maybe he cared a little, but that’s why the Impala now always held wipes in the glove box.

Jack grabbed his phone eagerly. “Sam!” he crowed. “Guess what I saw!”

Dean caught Sam’s voice over the phone. “What—Jack, hey, where’s Dean?”

“Clowns!” Jack said, waving his ice cream spoon around. “Clowns everywhere!”

“Very mature,” Cas told Dean.

Dean shrugged. “Buys us some time.”

“That’s nice, Jack, but put Dean on,” Sam said. Jack started to give the phone back, and Cas whispered,

“Tell him about the slide.”

“Sam, Sam! I went on a slide!” Dean gave him a thumbs up in the rearview mirror and Jack copied it.

“Dean! I know you can hear me!” Sam yelled as Jack continued on about his eventful day.

“We’re horrible influences,” Cas said, unsuccessfully fighting back a smile.

“Nah,” Dean said. “We’re the best.”

tag list

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @madronasky @famouspsychicpizzabandit @multifandomdisorder @arcticfox007  @improvedpeanut @castiel-is-a-cat @harmonyhelms @thetrueliesofafangirl @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @confusedisaster @welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @celestialcastiel @wormstacheangel

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list :)

#expectingtofly writes #destiel fic #baby jack #established dean/cas #fluff #i have had this in my drafts for so long and i finally finished it #ive been dying to write baby jack #or toddler jack i guess in this case #just so i could write overprotective dean and cas #jace if youre reading this hi <3 and i hope i did the mcdonalds fic justice :))

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

1 Oct. Suptober: Harvest

"Going to have a proper harvest for once," she said. The other witch laughed in agreement. "Think of the price we'll fetch for pure angel grace."

post-15x09 au snippetfic; deancas, samwena 

"Get the fuck away from him," Cas rasped, and it was the swear as much as the simple fact of Cas being alive that caused Dean to gasp and open his eyes.

He'd screwed them shut in anticipation of a killing blow that never landed. The witch had reeled around and away from Dean toward Cas, and the dagger in her hand glinted in the one of bar of light that was piercing through the boarded up basement window.

Dungeon window, more like. Cave window. The darkness made it difficult to determine where exactly Cas was in relation to Dean. A few feet away? Way on the other side of the room, maybe still half slumped against the spiderwebbed stone wall? Dean tried, and failed, to stand. Something was oozing into his right eye; his legs wobbled like the floor was made of bouncy house.

"Cas," he said once without the sound reaching his own ears. He fell backwards, wooden slats splintering on his weight.

In the dusty beam, the tip of Cas's angel blade blazed like a falling star that blinked out as the second witch holding it stalked into the dark again. 

Dean heard her guttered low cackle, as though she were a radio station the dial had finally properly tuned. His whole body went cold. 

"Going to have a proper harvest for once," she said. The other witch laughed in agreement. "Think of the price we'll fetch for pure angel grace."

"And feathers," the other crowed, before beginning a frantic chant in a language Dean did not recognize.

"Feathers, yessss." The witch's hiss poured like venom into Dean's veins. 

His eyes had adjusted only enough to see the angel blade raised high, and, somehow, the shadow of Cas's wings spread singed and mangled on the wall.

"Or perhaps both wings."

No, Dean thought. No, no, no, no. Please, no.

"We can hack them off at the--"

She'd stopped talking because her head was whizzing past Dean's own. He might have yelped in the effort to dodge it. Overhead fluorescent light banged into the room. Rowena stood in the door, arm raised like she was hoisting an invisible car over a fence; the witch who still had a head had crumpled to the ground. Sam stood over the beheaded body, breathing heavily and wild eyed as a banshee, small sword still aloft dripping red.

The witch on the floor squeaked once, like a mouse stepped on by a particularly pointed heel, and fell silent. 

From beneath her now unmoving form, what seemed like a mere pool of ink spread and spread until it almost touched Dean's boot.

He couldn't catch his breath. The room was quiet like a roar and he could not stand up. He thought to rub at the wetness in his eye and found the substance was sticky. Pressing harder made fire race into his eye socket and up his temple.

Sam was moving towards him, weapon thrown down with a clatter, but Cas arrived first, his face, wracked with fear and dappled with blood across his cheekbone, swimming into view as he knelt.

If his was the last face Dean was ever to see, Dean could take some comfort in it. He refused to close his eyes again.

"Hey, buddy," Dean said, smiling lopsided and rueful. 

Cas's hand fell to cup Dean's jaw like a blessing; it turned out Dean was lying down, though Dean had no memory of seeking earth. 

Cas's other thumb rubbed across Dean's forehead like he was tracing runes onto Dean's skin. Dean felt something crackle beneath his bones: for a split-second, his heart stopped, suspended in pain. The next second was like being punched out of a cannon -- he sat up and nearly knocked his newly healed skull directly into Cas's.

"Dean," Cas breathed in relief despite the pallor of his complexion and the way his hands shook as they pulled away from Dean. Then: "Thank you," he told Sam, who nodded and hauled him to his feet by the elbows before reaching to do the same for Dean.

Sam patted Dean on the shoulder. Rowena stepped around the puddle of witch and grinned her smug grin. 

Cas looked at Dean like he might vanish and Dean returned the stare until he had to look away or… Or. 

There was crimson on the sleeve of Cas's trench, in a crease.

Rowena and Sam collected the angel blade, the dagger, the gory sword. Dean collected himself. He followed Cas's heavier than usual trudge up the stairs and into the coming dusk. The ache of wanting to gather Cas into his arms followed him all the way back to the motel.

In the other room, Sam was talking to Jack on the phone while Rowena hooted. Well, that's what it sounded like she was doing anyway, and since there was a child in the mix, albeit a twenty-something toddler who was 90 miles away, hooting was by far the least concerning noise she could have been making.

Not that Dean in any way was going to ponder what other sounds she might choose to unleash in a room also containing his brother. He sat on the edge of the bed nearest the bathroom and stared at the three jack o'lantern sized pumpkins that he and Cas had bought at a roadside stand a few hours before the case went witch-shaped. He envisioned the pumpkins with toothy grins and chose not to think about anything else with such effort it was a miracle he wasn't carving the gourds psychically.

Cas came out of the bathroom sans trenchcoat -- which was to say, almost naked -- and with a clean face. He sat down beside Dean carefully. "How are you feeling?" He looked at Dean with soft eyes, like Dean was the only concern worth voicing.

After a moment, Cas sighed into the space Dean was supposed to have filled.

"I guess," Dean started. He gave his own sigh. "We've fixed a lot of things, recently, haven't we?"

Cas tipped his head, waiting for Dean to continue.

"Like. Chuck's out there. But. Jack has his soul. Rowena isn't dead. You don't have a deal with the freakin Empty dogging your heels bad as a pack of hellhounds." Dean curled his fingers like his hands were going to betray him somehow; his throat felt full of glass. "You gotta stop saving me, man."

Cas took a breath like Dean had struck him. A variety of memories of actually hitting Cas -- blood crisscrossing, bruises blooming -- flashed through Dean so quickly he almost retched. 

He was trying to keep his mouth closed and his treacherous stomach obedient when Cas said, "You cannot ask me not to help when I can still help."

"You're the one who said I wasn't listening about your powers--" He held up a hand against the protest he could see Cas about to make. "And you were right. I dunno what to do about it, but I know you havin' to heal my dumb ass nine times a week isn't makin' things better."

Dean could see Cas's eyes were wet.

The shards in Dean's throat made it hard to speak. "You're worth more to us, to me, than just what you can do as a powered-up angel." He nudged Cas's knee with his own. "You know that, right? Not that I'm not grateful as hell for you fixing me up tonight, 'cause I am. Grateful, I mean."

He looked at Cas, whose exhaustion seemed to be draped around him like a cloak. Dean was tired too, and not just from the major brain injury he'd sustained earlier. He’d wasted so much time not saying certain things, not letting certain things happen; he’d protected the wrong things, maybe, or maybe the right thing the wrong ways.

Maybe he could blame lingering effects, illusory or otherwise, on what he chose to do next. 

Cas, he prayed, you might have died tonight. We… I. I almost lost you again. 

A prayer continued, whispered: Please let me hold you.

Beside him, Cas startled, looked over at him. Searched Dean's eyes and shook his head just a little, as though he could not believe what he'd heard -- as though having hoped, but misheard, was too agonizing a possibility to endure.

"Please," Dean said, sliding an arm around Cas's back, sliding himself closer on the mattress until he'd vanished the space between them.

Cas turned into Dean's arms. "I almost lost you again tonight too." His voice brimmed with tears. He hooked his chin over Dean's shoulder and Dean soothed his hands over the blades of Cas's shoulders. He thought of the shadow of those majestic, tattered wings, and held on more tightly. 

He and Cas rested like that, trembling, for what seemed like an hour or more, neither of them willing to let go. When sitting upright became less comfortable, they reclined together on top of the polyester comforter patterned in pinecones. Cas tucked himself into the hollow of Dean's body, as though he had done it before somewhere other than in Dean's imagination. Dean pressed his face into Cas's soft hair and let his eyes burn as they would.

None of it solved anything; it was simply more right than anything Dean had felt in a very long time.

#spn #fic #deancas #suptober21 #suptober #destiel

[winterscaptain]

on paper.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this is one that i’ve been so excited to share with you, and it goes quite nicely with the other piece i’m planning on posting later in the week! there’s a graphic in this one, with alternative text under the tag list for those who may need/want it. this one takes place in au!2017.

words: 2.2k warnings: none!

summary: “there is an enduring tenderness in the love of a mother to a son that transcends all other affections of the heart.” - washington irving

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

The day before your birthday is more than a little strange. There’s something in the air, almost buzzing, as you go about your day. Aaron and Jack are fidgety, and you only hope they aren’t planning something ridiculous like a surprise party. 

Nevertheless, normal life must continue, fidgety boys or not. 

At the moment, you’re picking up a couple of things on the way home from soccer practice with Aaron, Jack, and Isaac in tow. For the time being, you’re alone as Aaron takes Isaac and distracts Jack with the threat of junk food. It’s really the only way you can get everything you need. 

There’s a toddler sitting in a cart, waiting for her father as he studies the wall of cheese. She drops her toy and you scoop it up, bopping her on the nose with it before putting it back in her lap. 

“There you go, sweetheart. Don’t want to lose that.” 

She laughs, and her father turns around, getting his bearings before dropping his shoulders in relief. “Thanks. That could have easily been a crisis.” 

You wave him off. “No problem. I get it, trust me.” 

“D’you have kids?” 

With a laugh, you nod. “I do. Two boys. My little one is about her age and my oldest is almost a teenager - it’s a little scary sometimes.” 

What you don’t see is Aaron, who heard everything, approaching you from behind. You never differentiate the boys - in fact, Aaron’s not sure if he’s ever heard you refer to Jack as anything other than your son.

Never stepson, never your boyfriend’s or fiance’s or husband’s son. 

Your son. 

His eavesdropping soothes something in him, confirming what he already knows, but it doesn’t erase all of the anxiety. Or is it anticipation? He’s not sure. 

Only tomorrow will tell. 

+++

When you wake up, you’re confused. 

Sunlight streams in through the window and Aaron’s side of the bed is neatly made and cold. As you open your bleary eyes further, you hear a pair of feet patter down the hallway and return with two larger ones. 

Jack and Aaron cross the threshold of the bedroom with a breakfast fit for a king. All your favorites, carefully arranged on a tray. You pull yourself up as Aaron kicks the little feet out at the bottom and sets it over your legs. 

“Breakfast for the birthday girl,” he says, almost in a sing-song. It’s a brush out of character, but you know he lets his inherent need for whimsey get the better of him when the situation calls for it. 

Jack follows his father, carrying Isaac just like you taught him.

You pick the mug up off the tray and hold it between your hands, letting it warm you. “Boys, this is so thoughtful. Thank you.” 

Jack crosses to your side and kisses you on the cheek. “We have presents for you, too.” 

“Really?” You ask, raising your eyebrows. 

Jack nods, and you notice when Aaron elbows him lightly in the ribs before he speaks. 

“You get to open one now, and another one at dinner,” Aaron explains.

“You two spoil me.” You smile and shake your head, taking a bite of one of the many offerings before you. Isaac struggles a bit, and Jack plops him on the bedspread so he can wiggle into your lap.

Aaron huffs, ruffling Jack’s hair. “You’re supposed to help Mom with Isaac so she can eat on her birthday.” 

Ignoring Aaron, you assure the boy with a wink. “I’m fine, Jack.” 

The sulky look disappears off his face and he hops up on the bed himself, sitting on the other side of your legs. “So do you want your first present now or after breakfast?”

Your eyes light up and you look over at Aaron. “Is it in here?”

Aaron nods and crosses to the same lockbox that held your engagement and wedding rings until he gave them to you. Popping it open, he pulls a little velvet case and returns to your side. 

You never thought to look in it after the wedding - he keeps all the ring boxes in there, but you never take your rings off and never feel the need to open it. poke around in Aaron’s things. 

When he sets the box in your palm, you open it. 

The contents take your breath away - it’s a mother’s ring, with your birthstone and Topaz for Aaron in the center, the design complimentary with your wedding rings. Beside those, an Aquamarine for Isaac, and an Opal for Jack. 

And room for more...

“Do you like it?” Jack peers over the tray to get a better look at it. 

You take it out of the box and slip it onto the ring finger of your right hand, admiring it in the late-morning light. “I love it.” 

Reaching for Jack, he leans over so you can kiss the top of his head. “Thank you, my darling. It’s beautiful.” 

Aaron takes your hand after you release Jack and kisses your knuckles, right over the ring. “We’ve been working on it for ages. It was supposed to be done in time for your birthday last year, but we didn’t quite make it.” 

You grin at him. “Better late than never, right?”

His mouth quirks. “My thinking exactly.” 

+++

All day, the boys make it their mission to keep you entertained. 

In the early afternoon, Aaron put Isaac down for a nap while you and Jack started your favorite movie. When Aaron came back, he’d handed you your favorite snacks and tucked you right under his arm. 

Needless to say, thirty-five started off on the right foot. 

Dinner is a somewhat subdued affair, with Aaron doing all the cooking and Jack cleaning up behind him like the world’s cutest scullery maid. Isaac happily sits in your lap most of the time, watching and listening, as he usually does. 

It’s the end of dinner that really gets exciting. Jack’s looked a little nervous the whole time, been a bit restless. Finally, you cave. 

“You okay, bud?” 

He nods and looks over at Aaron, who raises his eyebrows in a question you’re not privy to. 

Without a word, Jack gets up and scampers to his bedroom. 

“Your second present,” Aaron explains.

There’s an all-knowing air to your reply. “Ah.” 

The two of you share a little look and a laugh. How you managed to get here, with him, with your sons, with all of it, you have no idea.

Aaron stands and clears the table with alarming efficiency, dropping a kiss to the top of your head for good measure. 

When Jack returns, it’s with a wide, flattish box that he unsuccessfully attempts to hide behind his back. He stands at your side and sets it down next to your plate, hovering. 

You and Jack wait patiently for Aaron to return, and when he does - 

“So, Dad and I have been working on this present for a while,” Jack starts. 

You smile and poke him in the ribs. “That seems to be a theme, doesn’t it?” 

He laughs. “Yeah, I guess so.” He swallows and takes a deep breath, as if he rehearsed his next thought. He probably did. “We wanted to do something special for your birthday this year, so we actually wanted to wait to give you this one.” 

Aaron pulls his chair right next to yours. “This is a bit overdue, but we’ve never really done anything quite on time, have we?”

“No,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “No, we haven’t.” 

“So, with that in mind…” He places the box in front of you and taps it twice. “...we have this for you. It’s from both of us - Jack and me.” 

You squint at him for a minute, picking up on something that sounded like nerves in his voice. 

What on earth would he be nervous about getting me? 

Checking in with Jack, who’s focused solely on the box, you tear into the paper. It only startles you a little when Jack leans against you, looping an arm around the back of your shoulders. 

When did he get so big? 

You can hear tissue paper inside, and it’s exceedingly lightweight, but you resist the urge to shake it. The anticipation is killing you. 

Inside the box, a manila folder stares at you, legal-sized and taped closed. 

There’s a laugh in your voice as you attempt to cut the tension that arcs between the original Hotchners. 

“Aaron, if you got me the GW law review, I’m gonna be annoyed.”

“Just open it,” he says, quiet. There’s something else in his voice behind the anxiety - it almost sounds like pride. 

You follow instructions as best you can with both of your boys nearly in your lap. 

It takes you a minute to realize what the papers are, but when you do, you drop the packet like they’re on fire and cover your mouth with a gasp. You wrap your free arm around Jack’s waist and pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He’s shaking. 

His voice is almost a whisper. “I thought since everything else was kind of official that we should… do this too.” He looks over at Aaron, who nods. “It was my idea, and Dad helped me with the paperwork.” 

“I wrote the supplementaries myself,” Aaron says, a little smile on his face. “And there’s also something else in the folder, just for you. I haven’t read it.” 

With a breath, you collect yourself. Shaking the manila folder, you find another sealed envelope, marked ‘ONE’ in familiar handwriting. Inside, a letter. Jack rounds the table and stands beside Aaron while you unfold the paper, your fingers tracing over the creases. 

You read the letter in silence, hearing her voice as you do so. When you’re finished, your eyes are a little misty, and your lower lip shakes, you fold it and replace it, intending to bring it to bed with you tonight so Aaron can read it. 

“What is it?” Aaron asks. 

You furrow your brow. Don’t you know? 

“The lawyer said it was confidential - for your eyes only - by Haley’s request.” 

You nod. I’ll let you read it. Later. 

He nods, his eyes soft. 

For Jack’s benefit, you reply out loud, too, “Just some more paperwork.” 

Jack picks up the packet from under the tissue paper and puts it in front of you again. 

“So, all you have to do is sign it.” He hesitates before he speaks again. “...If you want to.” 

You look up at him and brush the endlessly wayward hair off his forehead. “Of course I want to, honey. There’s nothing on this green earth I’d love more than to be your mom on paper, too.”

His face breaks out into a grin, and he sprints off again. When he returns, it’s with the fancy pen from Aaron’s office - the one he really isn’t allowed to use.

You look at Aaron, who rolls his eyes and shakes his head before telling you, “I already put in our time off for the court date next week.” 

His hand covers yours. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was going to say something else. 

But, because you do know better, you know there’s nothing to say. 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @cevanswhre @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @spencerelds @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @ceceguajardo-blog @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me​

Alt Text of the Letter: 

My darling _____, 

You are perhaps the only person in the world who can appreciate how absolutely morbid this is. I’m sitting in some random hotel room, in witness protection, writing a letter to the person who’s going to marry Aaron and adopt Jack in the event of my untimely demise - an alarmingly apparent possibility, as it happens. 

If you do end up reading this without me, I apologize for the dramatic irony and dark humor. Blame Aaron. I wasn’t funny before I met him. 

Just kidding. 

It feels silly. I wrote two versions of this letter in the vain and selfish hope that Aaron would move on if something happened to me. The first letter is for a stranger, someone who came into his life after I’ve gone, who has captured his fickle and guarded heart. This version of the letter serves two purposes: 

The first - I want to tell you that I love you, I trust you, and if something happens to me, I know you will raise Jack as your own son. It’s exactly what I want if it comes down to that. 

The other is to congratulate Aaron for pulling his head out of his ass and making the right choice. Tell him I’m proud of him. 

Here’s the really morbid part: I’m so sorry I can’t be there. I know there is only one real circumstance in which you ever read this letter. Even thinking about losing you is impossible, so if you've really lost me and gotten this far, you’re stronger than even I can imagine. 

You know you have my blessing. My son, our son, is in the best hands in the whole world. 

I love you. Always. Haley 

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 26

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: none

A/N: no smut this time, just bucky meeting the family

NEXT CHAPTER

Her mother pulled Bucky into the house. She lived exactly where he’d expect her to live in, a dark academia sort of environment in shades of green, burgundy and dark browns. The walls were filled with shelves containing seas and seas of books and little memorabilia. There were photos of the family on the walls and Bucky noticed the little one right by the staircase of a young girl in a periwinkle dress sat on the beach with a bright smile whom he was absolutely certain was his Y/N. The woman continued to lead them until what he guessed was the living room where the fireplace was on and two kids were running around.

Bucky stood behind with Y/N as her mother made haste towards the drinks’ trolley where Y/N was almost sure the same watered down bottle her brother Anthony had constantly stolen from as a teenager still stood. They were lucky enough not to still have been noticed, her family having an weirdly tradition of not allowing anyone in the living area until they had a drink in hand. Of course she knew why, her family made so many questions both appropriate and inappropriate you’d have to be positively inebriated to deal with it. 

     - Everyone... - Lucy, Y/N’s mother, handed Bucky a burgundy coloured liquid before pulling him inside the living room. - Don’t be shy, Bucky. Everyone, this is Bucky, he’s Y/N’s boyfriend. 

     - I thought he’d be smaller. - a man got up from the dark burgundy couch, walking up to Bucky with an extended hand towards him. Bucky looked at his hand then at his own, before switching to shake it with his flesh arm rather than the metal aberration he’d covered with a glove. - Had a nice flight? Little bean here said she booked first flight tickets even though I told her it’s ...

    - A waste of money, I know dad. - Y/N interrupted. 

    - It was nicer than I expected, sir. - Bucky said yet Y/N could see that little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. - Your daughter made it all the better.

    - Hope she didn’t bother you with leitmotifs. - another man who looked just around Y/N’s age piped up.

     - Colin, don’t even say that word, it might get her started. - a girl, blonde hair dressed in a baby blue dress added. - Oh wow, you’re athletic.

     - C’mon El, you promised to help me tease Y/N about her first serious boyfriend. - Colin wrapped his arms around Y/N but she merely playfully slapped his chest. - Look at you, the last Y/L/N sibling to introduce someone to the family. We were gonna buy you a cake but mum said no.

    - Colin Y/L/N, leave your sister be. - Lucy slapped her son’s head. - We are very happy that Y/N and Bucky are here. 

   - She’s happy there’s a chance you might give her grandchildren. - Colin whispered before adopting that grin that as children made Y/N want to throw a pillow at him.

   - Colin, I said to leave your sister be. - Lucy wrapped her arms around her eldest daughter. - That is not the reason I’m happy you’re dating. Me and your father were just afraid that you would be a bit lonely in New York.

   - Because you have no friends. - Eloise added.

   - Eloise, leave your sister be. She has plenty of friends. - their father added, not moving from his chair where he had returned to read the paper. 

   - Where is your sister? She should be here to meet Bucky.

   - Claire is busy with her husband convincing my husband to get me to have a rat-like creature they call a baby. - Eloise sat down on the other couch, legs crossed over each other. - Do you want a baby, Bucky?

   - Eloise! - Y/N yelled out of shame. Now she understood why her mother looked so dead whenever she had to go shopping with 4 children at 10 AM. She was clearly wrong to think her siblings would act like regular human beings in front of a guest, they barely acted like regular human beings on a regular basis. - We should go put the bags in my bedroom.

   - No, wait, beanie. CLAIRE! CLAIRE COME SAY HI TO YOUR SISTER AND BUCKY! - Y/N’s mother rushed to the kitchen, yelling out whom he guessed was the name of Y/N’s last sibling. Out of the kitchen and into the living room came a girl dressed in the same dress as Eloise except it was purple, holding a bundle of blankets against her chest. 

  - Aw, let me hold Sophie. - Y/N dropped her bags to meet her sister who handled her the baby. Bucky inspected the scene, watching as her embarrassed facade quickly changed into one of wonder as she looked at her niece. - Look at you, you’re so cute, Miss Sophie, yes you are. 

  - Claire, say hi to Bucky.

  - Why is he so tall? - she shook his hand. - I thought you’d be smaller with that nickname.

Is this was Steve felt like after the serum? Bucky had never stopped to consider that maybe his nickname sounded like a name you’d give a short guy, to be honest, he doesn’t even remember how it came to be, he just remembered his mum calling it and it sticking. However, he did have to admit that he enjoyed seeing everyone’s confused look once they met him as if he was the tallest man alive when he was barely taller than Y/N’s brother. 

    - Conor, Jack come meet Bucky too. - Y/N’s mum held two men by the arm who looked as lost in the family reunion as Bucky did. - Conor’s Eloise’s husband and Jack’s Claire’s. 

    - Okay. - Y/N interrupted before anyone else told her boyfriend he was too tall. Handing Sophie back to her sister, she held Bucky’s hand. - We are going to put the bags upstairs and take the coats off and we’ll return. 

Y/N knew her family way too well. She had been here when Claire brought Jack home for the first time and her father questioned him about a notorious case followed by Colin asking him if he needed earbuds for Claire’s snoring. She had also been there when Conor and all of Colin’s girlfriends so she knew when it was time to run away with Bucky from her very devoted and very curious family who had already decided to have the baby conversation with him before she had even mention it.

Bucky looked at the photos that were scattered on the staircases’ wall. He could always pinpoint where Y/N was, normally in the front with those beautiful, shining eyes. He noticed one particular photo of Y/N alone against a dark blue background in her graduation gown holding her diploma, posing like a beauty queen. He made a note to sneak a photo of it once she wasn’t looking.

She led him into her bedroom. It was a rather small one in tones of white and beige with a double bed. The walls were clean rather than one with a bookcase of dark wood filled with books, trophies and little frames of photos of her as a kid. Her bed had a small white lamb laying on it with some heart shaped pillows and a knitted beige blanket. 

     - Is that you? - Bucky rushed to the shelf to grab a photo of Y/N as a toddler dressed as a ballerina holding a golden medal.

    - Yeah. My grandmother was a prima ballerina so she made all of us do ballet which came quite in handy when I was in Phantom. - she put her coat on the hook on the door. - Sorry about my mum, and my dad and my siblings. I should already apologise for their husbands and the toddlers you haven’t met yet since they’re out with Grandma Louis who I’m also sorry for. 

     - That’s fine. I think they don’t hate me much.

    - It’s better than when Colin introduced Kate, mum was so upset she didn’t speak to her. I would say they love you. 

     - So which one is the oldest? Is there an hierarchy I should know about?

     - I’m the oldest then Colin, Claire and finally Eloise. Eloise got married first and then Claire and Colin is living la vie boheme. 

     - And you? - he wrapped his arms around her waist

    - I’m the actress. Once Aunt Petunia or Grandma Louis gets here you’ll listen to the “the debate team champion becomes an actress kissing all those men and she’s still single” discussion. I also apologise for that in advance. 

    - Well but you are not single anymore. - Bucky leaned down to kiss her. - And I will allow you to parade me as your boyfriend. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. 

    - Ah yes, my three time three-time boxing champion boyfriend. 

    - You’re not gonna drop that, aren’t you?

    - What? It’s very alluring, gets me going.

    - Is that why you gave me an handjob at the airport, princess? - he leaned down to whisper against her ear. She felt goosebumps raise up her skin, mouth drying up as she tried to find the words. - You better have thick walls, princess. 

   - Beanie ... - her mother knocked on the door, pushing the door slightly open and sticking her head in. - We were wondering if Bucky ate meat. We bought this meat that’s not really meat and it’s vegan. I asked some of my colleagues at work to help me cook it and we made some but we can make more if Bucky wants some.

    - No, Mrs. I’m okay with anything, it’s fine. 

    - Non sense. Y/N tell Bucky he can pick what to eat. You’re American right? I’m making some chicken nuggets for the kids and Colin, I could make you some if you’d like. 

    - Mum, that’s stereotypical. 

   - Nonsense, beanie. What do you want to eat, Bucky?

   - I’ll eat whatever Y/N does, m’am. - he tried to hide the little grin as Y/N stood by his side still processing what Bucky had just said to her. - It’s fine, m’am, really. I don’t want to be a bother, I’m so grateful you and your family are okay with having me for Christmas. 

Lucy merely smiled at him as a way of saying it was no problem. Y/N knew her family, they adored to embarrass their children in front of their partners, lovers, and friends but they would adore whoever their children adored as if they belonged to the family since the dawning of time. The actress rose her head to look at her boyfriend, staring at the door like a fading vision on the desert, relaxed muscles and expression. Her hold on his hand strengthened as her head laid against his shoulder, laying a small kiss on the fabric of his shirt.

     - Do you want to go downstairs? We can stay here for a few minutes before dinner. 

     - Yeah, princess. - he snapped himself out of his state, smiling down at his caring girlfriend before following her down the stairs.

Her family had a lot of photos, some on big frames on the wall and other small ones in coffee tables and other surfaces. He couldn’t help but look at them, watching Y/N through the ages and wondering how she was. She always had that look, that inner shyness and bright eyed appearance. Most photos were school photos with that dark blue background followed by a few backstage photos of her in elaborate stage makeup and costumes. Bucky wanted a photo of her, any photo of her, to have in his wallet. Not that he would forget what she looked like, he could never forget it but he wanted to. He wanted to look at her face whenever he paid for his coffee, show people when they asked about her, he guessed he wanted to have the same pride in showing his girlfriend his father had about showing his mother. He wanted a suburban existence, no more Winter Soldier, no more Avengers, just James Barnes. Yet, he also knew he did not deserve that. No, he had taken that structure from so many people he didn’t deserve it. 

Once in the living room, there were more people, notably two kids running around the Christmas tree and two women sat by the beautifully placed table. He felt shy, not knowing exactly what to say, barely knowing these people. 

    - Ah, let me look at you. - one of the woman from the table got up and walked towards them. Bucky thought none of it, thinking it to be directed towards Y/N until the woman took him by surprise by cupping his face. - You’re just gorgeous. Nice eyes, strong features. 

     - Aunt Petunia! - Y/N took her aunt’s hands away from Bucky’s face. - Please. 

     - You know what they say about men with strong features, great lovers, great breeders.

     - Oh my god. - that’s it, she was no longer going to have a boyfriend once she got back to New York. - Bucky, this is my aunt Petunia. 

     - Nice to meet you m’am. - Bucky extended his hand to her but the woman merely pushed him towards the table.

     - I thought she was kidding when she said she was bringing someone home yet here you are. - she led both of them to side by side seats on the table. - So, Bucky have you meet Grandma Louis?

    - I’m afraid not. 

    - Look ma, Y/N brought a boyfriend home. 

   - Can we please not treat this like a world limited event?

   - Nope. - Colin sat next to Y/N. - I had a bet with Eloise you’d date a 50 year old librarian and I lost which is unfair because 100 year old soldier is almost the same. 

   - It’s not and you know it. - Eloise argued from the other side of the table. - How’s the movie, Y/N? 

   - It’s ... good. - she forced a smile, not wanting to show the same family who always wondered why unlike every of her siblings she, the debate captain and champion, had turned down the option to do Law and instead pursued an acting career. Did acting made her happy? Yes. Did the movie made her happy? No. 

   - She’s the best actress I have ever met and seen. - Bucky drew invisible circles over her palm. - Everyone’s always speechless during her takes. 

   - That’s my beanie, always the best at whatever she does. - Y/N’s father added. - Besides, one of us has to not be a lawyer. We’re starting to be known as the lawyer family. 

   - So Bucky, are you enjoying London? Have you ever been? - Claire asked while putting the bibs on her two toddlers who were still happily playing with toy cars on the table.

   - Long time ago, it’s a bit different now. 

   - Y/N should take you to see the tree in Trafalgar, it’s absolutely stunning. - Lucy added. - It’s where her father purposed. 

   - It’s where everyone purposed in this family. We need a new tradition. - Colin rolled his eyes. 

   - If it were up to you, you’d purpose in a McDonalds after coming from the pub. 

   - Shut up, Eloise. 

Bucky merely kept to himself during the dinner, replying to the questions that were thrown his way and laughing at the jokes. There was the odd questions every once and then which Y/N would normally reply to followed by telling him she was sorry which he found adorable. Normally it was him who was defensive over her, too defensive even and to see her take on the role warmed his heart. The dinner ran smoothly and soon everyone was sat on the couch by the fireplace. She was by his side, head on his shoulder as a It’s a Wonderful Life played on the television. 

The night kept going in and in until everyone decided to climb up to their respective bedrooms. Y/N turned on the heating the moment she came in, stripping onto her own cozy red pyjamas while Bucky kept inspecting her room. She had a bunch of books and programs from various West End musicals as well as a few bits of Star Wars memorabilia scattered on the shelves and a Phantom of the Opera music box on her desk. What caught his attention was the tiny miniature of a white picked fence house on her bedside table. Had she been an avid miniature collector and he didn’t know about it?

    - Hey, what’s this? - he pointed at the little house.

    - Oh ... that.

    - Is it a sore topic? I’m sorry princess, I didn’t mean to ...

    - It’s okay, Bucky. - she smiled. - It’s just a silly thing from when I was a kid. I told my mum I wanted to marry Luke Skywalker and move into a white picket fence home and she bought me it. Then I just wanted the house as I grew up but hey I live in SoHo, the best I can do is get another one of those

   - You want a white picket fence house?

   - It’s silly. - she hide her head as a familiar heat climbed up to her cheeks. Bucky placed the miniature back where it was, walking up to her. 

   - It’s not silly. I like picket white fence houses too, princess.

   - You do?

   - Yeah. One of my cousins had one when I was a kid and I always envisioned one for myself. 

  - Did you? 

  - Yeah and then I met you and I thought screw the home, as long as I get to come home everyday to you we could be living in a cardboard home but if you want a white picked fence house than I’ll give you one.

  - Buck ...

  - I’m not kidding. - he smiled at her. - We’ll live wherever you’d like and every single day we’ll come back home to each other and I will pretend I’m not tired so I can stay up and look at you smiling at those TV show reruns you like so much.

  - You like them too. - she added. 

  - Maybe but until then ... - he walked up to his bag removing an worn out big navy blue box. - You can have this. 

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[seriouslysam8]

Legerdemain Sneak Peek

Chapter Seven: The One with the Autograph

Harry sighed as he collapsed onto his bed. He stared up at the swirl pattern on the ceiling, his mind wandering to Remus needing a procedure to Albus proposing. Running a hand through his thick and graying hair, he wondered where the time went. It felt like just yesterday that Lily had been a toddler and conning him into having tea parties with her, Albus was playing football, James was pranking everyone in sight with Freddie, and Teddy had been the peacekeeper who seemed to find time to play with all of his siblings. Now, they were all married or proposing (save for his little Lily), having kids of their own, having their own adult problems. Harry was just watching from the outside.

He couldn’t explain why he felt that way. Teddy had told him immediately about the procedure, brushed it off as no big deal. Albus had included him on his plans to propose. Him. Albus had told him. It was a miracle given how tight-lipped and private his youngest son could be. James had been by his office more times than he could count to ask for his opinion on his Inferi case, and Harry would be lying if he said he didn’t miss being an Auror and in the thick of the action. It was only Lily who seemed to give him smiles and sweet-talk him, getting out of telling him anything really. Ginny suspected she had a boyfriend and the boys had certainly upped their teasing by talking about hot cocoa all the time when they were together. Harry, for the life of him, had tried and failed repeatedly to understand that reference.

Jackalope, their three-legged ginger cat, jumped up towards the bed and nearly didn’t make it. His claws dug into the mattress as he scrambled to make his way up. He meowed as he made his way up the bed. Jack sniffed Harry before settling down near his head, his butt pressing against Harry’s neck. He reached up and scratched the old cat under the chin. Though he liked to give Ginny a hard time about the damn cat, he had grown rather fond of him over the sixteen years they’d had him. He was a part of the family at this point, and a little pang of panic settled in his chest at the very thought of Jack getting up there in years. He didn’t think he wanted to lose another pet companion, especially one that had considered Harry his best friend.

“You’re a pain in the arse, Jack,” Harry said affectionately.

Jack rolled onto his back, causing Harry to get a mouthful of fur. Jack laid his front paw across Harry’s forehead and started to lick his hair. It was the cat’s favorite pastime, bathing Harry. Sighing, he waited patiently for Ginny to finish up in the bathroom so they could start their nightly ritual of talking entirely too long in bed with a good cuddle and either shagging or fooling around for a bit. He treasured those times alone with Ginny when it was just the two of them. No work, no kids, nothing except for their annoying cat.

Ginny exited the bathroom, her hands rubbing lotion on her arms as she made her way to the bed. He raised his eyebrow as he saw her in one of his old Auror Academy t-shirts with no pants on. She reached up, tugging her hair from its bun. The shirt rode up as she did so and he caught a glimpse of her lacy red knickers. He smiled.

“I thought you already showered,” Ginny commented with a smirk.

Harry tried to bat Jack away from his head, but he stubbornly adjusted to lay more of his weight against Harry’s head to continue licking his hair. “Your cat never leaves me alone.”

Ginny smiled as she sank down onto the mattress, sliding her legs under the covers. “He hasn’t been my cat since the moment I brought him home. He likes you more.”

“I don’t know why.”

Ginny shrugged, leaning down to peck Harry on the lips and receiving a low growl from Jack. “You’re just that loveable.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Do you know why Lily wants to have dinner tomorrow night with us? She said she wanted to talk to us about something.”

Opening up his arms, he waited for Ginny to join him in a cuddle. She laid down and scooted her body into his welcoming arms. Her cheek pressed against his chest as her fingers danced along the long and puffy procedure scar he had acquired what seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Merlin only knows what that child wants to talk about,” Ginny replied with a heavy sigh, crossing her leg over his.

She molded against him, fitting perfectly into his side. He ran his fingers through her long hair, his fingertips massaging her scalp. She made a little noise of contentment which only encouraged him to continue the motion. Jack hissed in his ear before jumping off of the bed and thumping across the room in a huff. Turning his head, Harry pressed his lips against her forehead.

“Apparently, Albus is coming,” Harry continued as his free hand reached down to rub her thigh. “He said that he was excited. I think I saw the first true smile on his face in a while.”

Ginny shifted so she could look up at him. “Yeah? When did you see Albus?”

“He asked me to lunch,” Harry replied, his fingers toying with the elastic of her knickers. “He took the day off of work and talked about something other than Hidden Passions for a change. It was nice.”

“Oh, I bet you were disappointed, weren’t you?” Ginny teased. “I know you’ve been trying to catch up on the reruns.”

“Gin, that show has been on since before I was even born. I will never catch up… sadly,” Harry said with a grin. “It’s addictive.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “What did Albus want to talk about?”

“How excited he was for dinner tomorrow,” Harry said with a shrug. “I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be…”

“Entertaining?” Ginny supplied.

“More than entertaining if Albus is that excited. I can’t even fathom what Lily could possibly have to say that has Albus in such a state. He’s almost manic.”

“I have a feeling that we’re going to be hearing about a new boyfriend,” Ginny said with a smirk.

“Shut that mouth of yours, Ginevra Potter,” Harry said in a playful tone. “My daughter doesn’t have a boyfriend. She would have already told me.”

“Harry, I hate to break it to you, but I’m guessing she’s been dating this boy for a while,” Ginny said gently.

Harry scowled. “Why do you think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Remus talking about Lily’s friend named Ko that minded them once. Teddy, James, and Albus teasing her about hot cocoa all the time. Ko… cocoa… come on, Harry, it doesn’t take a Brain Healer to figure this one out.”

Harry only frowned. He suddenly had the urge to go into work and look up every single boy in all of the United Kingdom named Ko. Ginny would tell him he was being overbearing and overprotective and he should just wait patiently for her to introduce them to her new boyfriend, but Harry hated waiting and he was definitely not patient. He needed to know what kind of wizard was near his baby girl.

[chemicalvelocity]

Happy Friday! I need therapy

So I wrote a fic for Fingers in my mouth Friday! Hope Y'all enjoy it.

AO3 Link

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No warnings apply

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel

Word Count: 3545

Read Below the Cut:

Dean's not a creep. He's not, he swears. It's just that he's... noticing things now that he's not on high alert for monsters anymore.

He remembers the first evidence of Castiel he'd ever seen, an angry burn scar of a handprint. He thought it was a demon's for christ's sake. He hadn't paid mind at the time to the fact that it took up his entire deltoid.

Now, however, he was absently tracing its outline after a shower, staring more through the mirror than at it while recalling the events of breakfast. Jack had playfully started the comparing hand sizes game that seems to entertain kids so much.

Dean hadn't even put any thought into it until it turned into everyone else doing it to humor him; which culminated in Dean foolishly slapping his palm to Cas's and then realizing just how much smaller his hand was.

Naturally, he'd joked it off and found his way out of the conversation, acting like it wasn't a bruise to his ego. He had thousand-yard stared his way through a shower, and now, here he was.

He carefully fitted his hand over the scar tissue on his shoulder, and yep, there it was, a literal physical reminder of Cas's massive hands. He got over himself as quickly as he could and threw on his clothes before going to the garage to wash Baby.

*

That turned out to be a bad idea, as many of Dean's ideas do. Cas was sat in a lawn chair with the tunnel doors cracked, rolling a joint. Dean had pointedly ignored him, turning to rinse the car until Cas spoke up.

"Would you like some?" He asked, looking over at Dean with a twist of his slender fingers as his tongue darted out to wet the rolling paper's adhesive. Dean swallowed.

"Y'know that shit's bad for you, right?" Dean grumbled, but his heart wasn't in it. He opened a drawer to pull out sponges and brushes, tossing them into nearby buckets and setting them  down near Baby's rear fender

"I think you know that's not true." Castiel hummed, placing the fresh joint between his lips, bringing the flame of his zippo to the end, and inhaling deeply.

"Whatever, Stoney baloney... Don't you usually smoke out on the roof, anyway?" Dean asked, filling up the first bucket with hot water and suds, the second with only cold water.

"It's raining," Cas replied, voice husky from the strain of holding in a hit. "Frankly, the Bunker is well ventilated enough that I could smoke in the library... where we still keep ashtrays on the table, but I figured I'd come in here to keep it away from Jack." He mused, blowing his lungful of smoke out the door.

"Right... Gotta say Cas, I'm sure second-hand smoke doesn't affect 20-year-old Nephilim toddlers." Dean chuckled, saturating the sponge in the first bucket and slung the soap across the Impala's roof, leaning up to scrub away the dust and bugs that come from hauling her back and forth across the Midwest.

"No, but I don't want to influence him, he's very impressionable, you know." Cas flicked the collecting ash into a labelless beer bottle that sat discarded in his chair's cupholder.

"I wonder where he could've gotten that from. Claire came to visit for one weekend and all of a sudden you're Bob Marley!" Dean teased, and Cas narrowed his eyes at him.

"I am not a musician, nor a Rastafarian, Dean. Claire simply pointed out that I think too much, and that cannabis is known to help." He drew in a deep hit and outstretched his arm to Dean, the cigarette balanced between two fingers. Smoke twirled lazily into the air around him.

Dean made a show of rolling his eyes before coming over to pluck the smoke from Cas's possession. Cas watched him appraisingly as he took a drag, then another, and Dean almost choked when Cas's lips parted for the stream of smoke to travel neatly into his nostrils.

Okay, so Claire taught him how to french inhale. Dean idly wondered if he knew what ghosting was, before passing it back and returning to his task, pretending like his lungs didn't burn from the comparative lack of practice.

*

Dean hit the wall hard, his breath punched out of him with a grunt. He scrambled to his knees and whipped his head around to see Sam in a similar position nearby. Cas was still standing though now surrounded by three, very pissed-off demons, one of which had Dean's angel blade. Dean attempted to gather himself and help out, but his vision went sideways and he steadied himself against a table, opting to call out the angel's name, stupidly.

Cas had slashed the leg of the demon to his right and grappled the one to his left. As the first one went down, his palm met its forehead and smote it out of its meatsuit. The middle one charged him, but he spun the demon in his grip, shielding himself by launching his captive forward onto the blade, then seizing the neck of the remainder, holding him in place firmly. He turned to the bewildered hunters casually.

"Did you need him for anything else?" Dean bit down on his tongue in a failed attempt to reintroduce moisture to his mouth.

"N-No, Cas I think we're good, knock yourself out..." he rasped as Castiel tightened his grip on the demon's throat, and light burned out from under its skin. Sam and Dean had picked themselves up off the floor by now and made their way to the middle of the room.

"Good work, buddy," Dean panted as Cas piled up the bodies at his feet, and wiped blood away on his jeans. "Guess you hardly need us."

"Of course I do, You made an excellent distraction." Cas smiled and while Dean was sure it was a genuine statement, definitely felt the hit to his pride. Maybe he was just getting too old for this shit. Sam snorted at something and walked out. Dean didn't know what, but he didn't want to hit him any less for it.

*

"Hey, Cas, I have a bit of a concussion from the hunt the other night. Can you work a little magic?" Sam rubbed at his eyes, setting his laptop aside. Dean raised his eyebrows from his seat, taking a sip of beer. He wouldn't have asked Cas to expend any healing energy on himself, but Cas didn't protest. Instead, he hardly looked up from his book and snapped his fingers. Sam visibly relaxed. Dean did not.

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I'm gonna go grab some grub, probably just pick up a pizza and some beers or something." Sam held his hand out for the impala keys. Dean tossed them to him with half a mind.

When Sam was gone, he was still staring at Cas in confusion.

"Can I help you with something too, Dean?" He quirked an eyebrow over his book. Dean cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Nope, no, I'm okay, just a few scrapes. Can't have you wasting your mojo on that... I was just wondering why you didn't, uh, y'know," He tapped two fingers to his forehead and Cas's eyes turned up in a half-smile.

"I don't need to do that to heal."

"Oh... okay." He'd already asked a weird question, probably best not to pry into why Cas always touched him to heal.  He tipped back the rest of his beer and fumbled around for an excuse of some sort to break the silence, but Cas stood first.

"I'm going to go find Jack. Let me know when Sam's back with dinner." He passed Dean with a  warm squeeze to his shoulder. Dean watched him go, then realized just how long it's been since he's been laid. Too fucking long, apparently.

*

Yeah, no. Way too long. Dean's half-convinced Cas is fucking with him, too. His suspicion stemmed from Cas's sudden love of eating every meal with them and requesting things like wings or fries.

"Morning sunshine, Sam and Jack already left to go check out a case. I made pan...cakes..." Dean's sentence fell flat when his eyes met Cas entering in a half-buttoned-up shirt. His long fingers slipped buttons into place as he yawned his greeting and trudged his way to the coffee maker.

Dean was a little concerned that he noticed Cas's hands before he noticed the toned and tanned chest underneath the shirt. He ran a hand down his face and moved to pour more coffee. Cas passed over the pot and turned to the stack of pancakes, tossing two onto a plate and proceeding to destroy them with fruit and whipped cream.

"When was the last time we cleaned our firearms?" Cas asked, swirling his finger through the toppings of his breakfast before popping it in his mouth. Dean set his mug down, a little too hard. Cas gave him a look.

"Are you fucking with me?" Dean tried not to sound petulant, but he can't catch a single break.  Cas bit his lower lip, and then cleared his throat.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Was his response, innocent and hid behind a sip of coffee. Dean pursed his lips.

"You- you don't?" Dean was momentarily taken aback. Was he so unbelievably tense that he'd imagined the whole problem?-

"No, Dean, you've been staring at my hands all week, I have no idea what you're talking about." he deadpanned.

Dean's face burned. He didn't think he was being obvious about it or anything. Cas was observant, though.

"At first I thought you were just insecure about your hand size, but surely you'd have gotten over that in a day. Then I did some research and decided to... Encourage you." He continued casually as if Dean wasn't praying for the earth to swallow him whole.

"I uh, appreciate that, Cas... Um, what conclusions exactly did you draw?" Dean squeaked out because frankly he still wasn't sure what was going on here.

"You may have a sexual preference for hands, which makes sense, given your previous statements regarding slapping." Cas hummed into his coffee and, yeah okay Dean needed to end this conversation before he melted from shame.

"Okay, right, got it, I'll stop staring." He managed, grabbing his mug and turning to leave before Cas grabbed his arm. He glanced down at the sudden warmth around his wrist, then up to meet Cas's cobalt gaze.

"I never told you to stop," Cas said calmly, loosening his grip to slip his fingers into Dean's hand and pull him closer. "Dean, I researched it." His expression was earnest, and Dean shuddered involuntarily.

"Listen, man, It's not like, a thing... It's just, well, you have nice hands, and you kinda marked me... with your very large hand." Dean still wanted to disappear, but Cas didn't seem too bothered.

"I wanted to tell you, I touch you when I heal because I like the excuse to," Cas murmured, raising his other hand to cup Dean's jaw. Dean's breath hitched. "I enjoy the warmth. Everything else is always so cold." Cas whispered, running his thumb lightly across Dean's bottom lip. Dean couldn't stop the noise he made as it caught on his nail.

Cas's pupils grew wide, and he curiously pushed his thumb deeper. Dean closed his lips over it and sucked gently, noting the faint taste of the strawberries Cas had put on his pancakes. Dean pulled back before he embarrassed himself any further.

"Uh," Dean's brain replied dumbly. "Can I kiss you?" His dick helped with that one.

"I just put my thumb in your mouth and you feel the need to ask-" Cas's snark was cut short by Dean pressing him up against the counter and slotting their lips together. Cas gripped the front of Dean's shirt and kissed him back like a man dying of thirst. This is why Dean's thought process is filled with question marks when Cas puts a hand firmly on his chest and pulls back to speak.

"I don't think the kitchen is the best place for this." He rumbled into their shared space. Dean perked back up when he realized the proposition.

"Did you wanna finish your breakfast first? I can't guarantee we'll be back in here any time soon." Dean wiggled his eyebrows at the angel.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Dean," Cas smiled. "I'd love to. While I do I think you probably want to go get ready." Cas wiped the look off Dean's face when he reeled him back in for another kiss.

"O-oh, yeah, okay. Meet you in my room in ten." And then he was speedwalking out of the kitchen.

*

Dean turned off the shower after a very thorough cleaning and wrapped his towel around his waist, hurrying back down the hallway to his room. Cas was sitting on the bed patiently.

"Hello, Dean." He smiled, reaching up to tug off his tie. Dean's throat went dry again.

"Hi," Dean was clutching his towel like a lifeline. Cas observed him fondly as he unbuttoned his shirt. "Did you want me to put something on? Or..."

Cas just chuckled and beckoned him closer. Dean stood between his legs and his heart dropped out of his ass when Cas took his hands and pulled gently, signaling for Dean to kneel. He lowered himself slowly to his knees and looked up at Cas, expectant, and not at all freaking out on the inside. Cas leaned in to kiss him again. That, he could work with.

"I want you to put your hands on my knees, and you can't move them unless I say so, is that alright?" Castiel spoke when they parted.

Oh.

Apparently, hand kink isn't the only thing Cas researched. Dean felt the command go straight to his dick. He nodded hastily, but Cas said nothing, only waited, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, Cas." He breathed, and Cas grinned and shrugged off his shirt, tossing it into Dean's desk chair.

"Good. Get comfortable." Dean sat back on his heels and placed his hands on top of Cas's thighs. Cas placed both of his hands on Dean's shoulders, rubbing small circles in the muscle before he slid them upwards to massage the back of Dean's neck. When Dean was staring up at him with hooded eyes and humming his appreciation, Castiel's patience grew thin.

Cas held the back of Dean's neck steady, tracing the fingers of his right hand down Dean's temple and across his lips. This time, Dean didn't have any reservations about darting his tongue out to meet them. Cas inhaled deeply through his nose and pushed his index and middle fingers into Dean's mouth.

Dean sighed and let himself go, he lapped at Cas's fingers like he was starving. He held Cas's heated gaze and felt his dick wake back up, twitching underneath his towel.

"So good, you're such a good boy for me, Dean." Cas praised. Dean thought he might pass out. The feeling of Cas inside him, even if it was just his fingers sliding along his tongue was heady. He looked down and took notice of the increasing tightness of Cas's pants. Cas slid his fingers out and leaned back on his elbows. Dean panted, his fingers gripping Cas's thighs with the effort of keeping still.

"Would you like something else, Dean?" Cas smirked down at him. "All you have to do is ask." Dean screwed his eyes shut and swallowed his pride.

"I want," He let out a shuddering breath as Cas ran a hand through his hair. "I want to suck you off."

"You can move your hands now." Cas hummed and leaned his head back. Dean practically sprung forward, ignoring the ache in his calves as he latched his mouth onto one of the angel's nipples. His hands made quick work of Cas's belt and fly, tugging firmly at his pockets to get them off. When Cas's flushed erection came free, Dean leaned forward to mouth at the head and cup his balls.

Cas wove a hand into Dean's hair and pulled. Dean moaned around the cock in his mouth, drawing a deep groan from Cas in response. Dean drank in the sound and relaxed his jaw to swallow him down further, bobbing his head rapidly.

"Dean." Cas sounded wrecked, and Dean's head snapped up to attention.

"Yeah?"  He asked, breath heaving as he leaned up to his eye level.

"May I-"

"Anything, Angel, seriously." He pressed his lips to the heated flesh under Cas's jaw, sucking hard and nipping gently.

"I want to fuck you." Cas gasped, leaning into Dean's mouth. Dean nodded and climbed to his feet to get the lube from his nightstand. Cas sat up and wrenched Dean's towel away. His eyes roved Dean's body appreciatively before pulling him down on the bed. "Lie down on your front, please." He purred, and Dean was on his elbows in an instant, handing back the lubrication.

Cas caressed the contours of Dean's back reverently, before gingerly parting Dean's cheeks and licking a broad stripe across his hole. Dean felt his whole body twitch.

"Fuck, C-Cas..." Dean whined out, completely sideswiped by Cas's impromptu rimjob. He helplessly thrust his hips back against Cas's grip. Castiel reeled back a single hand and gave Dean's ass a hard smack. Dean dropped his face into his pillow with a keen from the back of his throat.

"Sit still, Dean. Let me take care of you." He growled, mouthing kisses from the base of Dean's spine to the cleft of his ass again. He laved his tongue in tantalizing circles, fucking it in and out nimbly and drawing a chorus of breathy sounds from the hunter.

"Please, Sweetheart... I need you... Need you inside me, c'mon." Dean whimpered, writhing under the sensation of Cas's hot breath and slick tongue. Cas finally gave in and sat up, reclaiming the bottle of lube to squeeze a sizeable portion directly onto Dean's entrance. Dean shivered from the sudden cold, only to cry out again when Cas's strong index finger slid in with very little resistance.

Cas continued to pepper Dean's shaking shoulders with wet kisses as he thrust his finger in, curling it hard against Dean's prostate and savoring the faint sound of Dean nearly wailing into his pillow. He slid in a second finger and scissored them back and forth to make way for a third. At this point, Dean had lifted his head and turned towards Cas with pleading eyes. Cas leaned forward and kissed him deeply.

"You're doing so well, Dean... Are you ready?" Cas mumbled into Dean's mouth.

"Yeah, Christ... Yes, Cas, please." Dean managed to get his knees under himself and Cas slicked himself up, working the head of his cock into Dean's fluttering hole. He clutched at Dean's hips and slowly rocked himself in deeper. "Fuck!" Dean yelped, trying to meet Cas's thrusts to no avail.

"Relax, my love." Cas moaned, rolling his hips into Dean, captivated by the catch of skin around him. "Do you want to move?" He asked, and released his iron hold on Dean's waist with a chuckle when Dean nodded eagerly. Dean thrust back against Cas with abandon. A surprised gasp was drawn from both of them as Cas sped up his thrusts to match. Dean was going to come if Cas didn't slow down, so he gathered his thoughts enough to speak up.

"Cas, wait. Can I flip?" He panted, and Cas's onslaught came to a stop.

"Of course, Dean." He pulled out carefully and leaned away for Dean to position himself on his back. Castiel admired the flush that spread down Dean's neck and covered most of his chest. He leaned forward to suck dark hickeys into Dean's collarbone to contrast. Dean reached down to guide Cas back inside, sighing amorously when he was seated again.

Cas rocked in and out once more with renewed enthusiasm. He snapped his hips forward, causing Dean to arch up off the bed with a shout. Stars burst behind his eyelids as Cas lifted Dean's legs to wrap around his waist and repeated contact his prostate shot sparks through his bloodstream.

"Ah-fuck, Cas, Baby... I'm gonna come. Are you almost there?" Dean gasped and reached up to pull Cas down for a vehement kiss when he grunted his confirmation. Dean felt the heat of his release coil deep in his gut and rocked up into Cas with a fervor, moaning heavily into Cas's mouth with each collision of their hips.

Then the tension in Dean's core snapped, and he was coming without so much as a moment's attention to his dick, clinging to Cas's shoulders with a fucked out whine. Cas kept going and Dean's synapses felt like they were being deep-fried as Castiel's stuttering hips drove him in deeply one, two then a final time as he emptied himself into Dean with a low groan. He then pulled out slowly and rolled off a now depleted Dean to spoon him.

"I think I'm in love with you." Dean wheezed, and Castiel grinned into his hair.

"I'm glad I could help you come to that epiphany. I love you too, Dean."

#Spn #spn fanfiction #destiel fanfic #my writing #minors dni #dean winchester #Castiel #Fimmf #Happy Friday!! #destiel #deancas #casdean #dean x cas #supernatural fanfiction

[and-stir-the-stars]

i just wanted to send an ask to let you know that you're awesome and loved in case no has told you today :) and what kind of car do you think dad cas would drive (you seem to be interested in cars or at least continentals so I'm curious)

!!!!

Bestie,, you're so kind, that means a lot to me right now. You're amazing and so creative and such a joy, I hope you know you're loved, too! <333

You may have been just a little bit misled; I know absolutely nothing about cars, I'm just seriously obsessed with Cas' Continental. It's such a weird and random obsession, I know, but I love the Continental (or Connie, as I like to call her; or Honey, as Cas definitely calls her) because that car is one of the few things Cas had that was actually his! That car meant something to him, and besides his angel blade and trench coat, it was one of the only possessions Cas had that held meaning and emotional attachment for him. But instead of being allowed to keep the car that held so much meaning for him, the writers got rid of it. Not only did they get rid of it, from then on they had Cas ride cars that he stole-- ones that were only chosen and kept around as long as they were convenient, cars that could be thrown away and replaced as soon as they weren't useful anymore. Sound familiar? Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy Cas' other cars, especially his brown truck, but can you see why getting rid of Connie makes me so mad??

Okay, now that the obligatory Continental simping is out of the way, time for your actual question! <3

As I said, I don't know anything about cars, so if you were expecting a specific make and model, I'm afraid I can't help you there. But honestly, I think Cas would probably read something in one of those parenting books or classes that he definitely immerses himself in before he becomes a dad about how some cars are safer than others, and you need to choose a good one for your child. He'd do a bunch of research-- looking things up online, randomly wandering up to parents (and probably vaguely frightening them with his intensity, poor things), asking car dealerships and mechanics, etc about what cars are the best for children, and he'd go with the general consensus he'd glean from those questions.

Though I am extremely biased and I want Cas to have his Continental 24/7, I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that it does not have a very good safety rating, especially by the standards of today's cars.

As much as Cas loves his Honey, his love for his children will always go over his love for the car, so I don't think Cas would use the Continental if he had small children like infants or toddlers in the car. When the kids get a bit older (or, in Jack's case, taller?) that'd probably change, as long as Cas drives extra carefully (but honestly Cas always drives extra carefully when his kid(s) are in the car).

#thanks for the ask!! #twas so much fun to think about! #sorry for the connie rant but connie stanning is simply a must. it is obligatory reading material for my blog <3 #castiel's continental #castiel #spn

[guiltgoreglory]

Heat Waves (Chapter 2: An Ego Check)

(Very) Brief Summary: Reader is a government contractor joining the team in Benghazi.  (Eventual Tanto x Reader) (2626 words)

Chapter 1

Tagging: @abitofpablo​ @kimburgss​ @ceyruh

You watched as the dust clouds trailed behind the buggy. The rest of the trip you all sat in silence, taking in the events that had just occurred. When you saw the base from a distance you decided it was safe to holster your weapons. You wiped the sweat of your palms on your thighs as you willed your heart to slow down, and so it did. The second you felt back at equilibrium, Rone took a quick turn into the base. To no surprise, it was the most conspicuous looking place you could have imagined. You expected better from the CIA. Several armed American guards stood at the gate which was surrounded by obvious cameras. You rolled your eyes knowing that if anyone wanted to target us, it wouldn’t be hard. One guy even wore a New York Yankee’s cap. It’s like they didn’t even try.

“Check the new rides. Gaddafi had a going-out-of-business sale on armored vehicles…” Rone gestured towards the Mercedes amongst several other high-end vehicles. He whistled. Leave it to Rone to keep the tone light. “Max-leveled armored, man. We got a great deal… We stole ‘em.” Rone stared down Jack with the biggest smirk plastered on his face. He seemed extremely proud of himself for that one. You watched as a similar smile tugged at the corners of Jack’s lips. You behaved similarly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a shitty joke. 

You gathered your things as the car came to a stop. Rone hopped out, throwing the keys to another man wearing a vest, “Sat unattended at the airport.” His stride paused as he watched someone from afar. You followed his gaze until you saw the Chief. This was definitely going to be something, you didn’t know what, but you could feel the subordination getting ready to bubble out of Rone. “Hey, Chief,” Rone called, nonchalantly, almost mockingly. The Chief looked like any middle-aged man who worked in business. Blue blazer, khaki pants, glasses, the whole shebang. His posture screamed superiority complex, you knew from the get-go you wouldn’t get along, not like it mattered anyway.

“I don’t want to hear it, Tyrone.” He called back, shuffling his way back into the building. Rone strutted towards him, duffel in hand. 

“No, no, I understand.” He turned his head for a moment, keeping out of the way of a car

driving past. “I see what you’re going for here,” he called, on the verge of yelling, “Secret spy base with fortified walls, gate cameras,” He fumbled to get his id badge in hand. “and blue-eyed Westerners! walking in and out of this place all day long.” He did a lovely spin for emphasis, pointing towards all the obvious Americans walking around the base. You followed close behind, knowing you were going to need to speak with him as soon as Tyrone was done tearing into him. “But if you want to avoid..” His words were cut off by the Chief slamming the squeaky metal door in your face. His voice dropped a decibel and he spoke, mostly to himself, “That’s so rude”. He placed his phone into the tray mounted on the wall beside the door, before scanning in his card to gain entry. “Can’t believe he just did that to me.” Your heart started to pick up once again. Nothing made you more frustrated than a cocky man being too good to have a goddamn conversation.

The door let out a loud buzz before Rone pushed open the entrance. “Chief, if you want to avoid an international incident,” He continued to track in the Chief’s footsteps, “you send me my guys when I ask for them.” Many of the agents sitting at their computers peeked up to watch the drama unfold. Some took a look at you, the new face, before returning to watch the catfight.

Finally, the man turned to look at Tyrone, squinting in disapproval like a man reprimanding his toddler. “Local faces need to resolve local conflicts, Tyrone.” Aka, your life means little to nothing to me; the incident was just a wrinkle in my daily schedule. He flipped mindlessly through papers within a manilla folder. Wow he’s so important look how busy he is. “We’re guests in this country.” You and Jack came to stand a few feet behind Rone, trying to stay close without poking the bear. 

“We’re unwanted guests, Bob.” Rone rebutted. He’s not wrong. 

“We’re spies, you’re security guards.. Your job is to keep us out of trouble, not get into it yourselves.” God, he’s pretentious. Rone flipped through some files pinned onto a pillar, looking through some photos of notable people of the region. 

“Well help me do my job and give me my guys.” He didn’t bother giving the Chief the privilege of his eye-line as he continued to search through the photos. You heard a buzz, and quickly turned to see the other members of the squad you were now a part of. Perfect timing. You made eye contact with one of them, Chris Paronto. Based on your prior research everybody called him Tanto, the mischievous one. Just then the Chief said some absolute bullshit.

“Here’s what you guys are good at: working out, eating five hot meals a day. What you’re not so good at is doing what you’re told.” God, he was so fucking proud of himself. Look at you little man, showing off your power in front of your team. You let a little of your annoyance slip out. 

“Ironic considering without us, everyone’s a sitting duck.” You whispered softly. The men all turned their heads towards you. Well, I guess now is as good a time as ever to get this over with. 

“Excuse me? And who are you? Some ex-army nobody who can’t let go of the glory of war?” 

Alright, time to rip off the bandaid. You stood a little taller, stepping closer to the Chief, just beside Rone. “Honestly... I’m someone out of your security clearance.” You said assertively. Jack shared a hesitant look with Rone.

“Bullshit.” He turned away from you, readying to remove himself from the conversation. 

“Alright, I think it’s best if we get a phone call over with now.” You dropped your duffel onto the tile, squatting down beside it. The armed men gripped their guns just a little bit tighter. The Chief stood, watching you confused. You unzipped the bag, reaching in to wrap your hands around a satellite phone. You zipped it back up but left it on the ground for now.

“I don’t have time for this.” The Chief began to walk towards his office as you stood, clicking a number on speed-dial. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The director doesn’t like waiting.” You held the phone to your head, keeping a straight face. That definitely made him pause. He turned back towards you, squinting his little face up. 

“Director of what?” He sighed. 

“Director of the Central Intelligence Agency.” You responded casually as if you were telling him the forecast for the next week. You waited as the phone continued to ring. 

Everyone stood in silence except for one guy. Tanto leaned over to whisper in Boon’s ear. “Who the fuck is she?”

Finally, a voice came over the line. “Y/N.”

“Good morning, Sir. We have arrived at the location.” Everyone had their eyes on you, curiosity getting the best of them.

“Any incidents?”

“One en route to base. Resolved without violence. I’ll have a report to you within the hour.”

“Great.” He took a deep breath and you could hear him adjust in his chair. “I take it you’d like me to speak with Bob.”

“That would be appreciated, Sir.”

“Alright hand me over.” You took steady, calculated steps towards the Chief, holding the phone out for him to take. He gently took it from your hand. His eyes bore holes into the crevices of the tiled floor.

“Hello..” The Chief said tentatively. You stepped back, giving him some room. You crossed your arms across your chest, shrugging in Rone’s direction. You could tell he was living for this. “Yes, Sir…. I understand, Sir. Of course…. Goodbye.” He stood like a dog with his tail between his legs. He stepped back towards you, holding out the phone. You took it gladly with a polite smile. Pressing the phone back to your ear you concluded with a quick farewell before going back to put your phone into the duffel. As you squatted beside it, you looked up towards the Chief. 

“Are we good?” You said. You no longer wanted to squabble and your tone reflected as such. 

“Yes.” He said curtly, returning to his office. The second the door closed, the chatter of the room returned back to normal. You turned back to the men of the team looking at Rone expectantly. 

“Alrighty then.” Rone turned to walk towards their lounge and the guys began to follow. Tanto sucked in his lips, trying to stifle a chuckle. The burly man next to him, Boon, jabbed him in the side before moving towards the room. You waited for Jack, giving him a genuine, small smile before trailing behind. 

“Well, that was fun.” Mark Geist, also known by the team as “Oz”, stated monotonously, walking into the room as he disassembled his rifle. 

“He gets his jollies pushing around alphas because he can.” John Tiegen. Called “Tig”. He’s the brains. The first one to be stationed here. You stood in the corner watching as he placed his things into his cubby. 

“We had this commander back in ranger school, he was a real cockbag…” Creative insult. Tanto began to remove his vest as he narrated on. You figured you’d be here for a minute so you pulled the straps of your cello case off of your shoulders placing it onto the floor, along with your duffel. Now that you were within the compound you took off the hijab, throwing it on top of the luggage. You flipped your head forward shaking out the matted hair before you pulled it into a bun. It was a mess but it did the job.

“So on our last night, me and a buddy, we stole his beret.” He placed his vest down on the table before plopping down onto the worn couch. “Whole barracks chubbed it.”

“Chubbed it?” Boon replied, his tone made you think he really didn’t want to know, whipping out his knife to fidget with.

“Yeah, rubbed our dicks on it.” Tanto replied, the widest smile crossing his face. He looked like the Cheshire cat as he reached for the gaming controller. You coughed, stifling your laugh before your face turned quizzical. He turned back towards you, noticing your reaction before giving you a quick up and down and returning to his game. You sauntered over to Jack to join in the awkwardness of being new. You tuned into Tig as he was beginning to talk work to Rone. He leaned forward over a desk that Rone was sitting at. 

“Leader was a former Gitmo detainee.” They scanned the rugged laptop, you presumed that they were looking for who you’d tangoed with this morning.

“Yeah, those guys usually don’t hold a grudge.” Rone said in his usual sarcastic tone. 

“Hey guys,” Oz’s voice pulled you from your concentration as you turned to face him with a friendly smile. “Mark Geist, Oz.”

“Pleasure.” Jack went to shake his hand and you followed suit.

“Ah guys I’m sorry.” Rone spun on his office chair to face the rest of the crew. “Everybody, this is Jack Silva. It’s our third contract together so he knows the drill. We met training SEALs at Coronado.”

Tanto turned back for a second. “How do you get them to balance that beach ball on their nose?” A few chuckles could be heard from the guys.

“It’s tough.” Jack’s shoulders relaxed slightly, letting himself become more comfortable around his new team. 

“And this” He gestured his hand towards you. “is Y/N. She’s uhh..” He paused for a split second, trying to find the right word to describe you. “black-ops and apparently has the government at her fingertips so she’ll probably be of use.” You smirked, nodding your head towards the guys. Rone rose from his spot, spreading his arms across the room. “So we got three ex-Marines here and one ex-Army retard who likes to rub his dick on things.” Tanto stood proudly facing you two. 

“Kris Paronto. Call me Tanto.” You both shook his hand. You found Tanto’s demeanor amusing, and much to your dismay, his confidence was undeniably attractive. Despite the tall crowd, he still somehow towered above them. You shared eye contact for a brief moment before turning towards Tig. Although he felt easy to get along with, you hoped his casual demeanor didn’t affect his work. In your experience, the joker usually got people killed. Despite this, what you had researched, he seemed to be doing alright so far. 

“Hey. I’m Tig.” He waved towards you two.

“Tig’s been here the longest, so he’ll get you up to speed on the area,” Rone said, stabbing a red pin into a map. Looking in more detail you noticed it was the location of your incident. “This is Boon. Scout Sniper, Zen Master, Holder of Tanto’s leash.” He pointed to the man sitting in the sturdy armchair. 

He looked up from his lap. “Welcome to Club Med.”

“It hasn’t rained since June. It’s not gonna rain again until September.” He walked right up to you two strolling past slowly. “You two will be double-bunked. Not me, because I’m in charge. Gym sucks,” damn “food’s actually good.” Lose, win. 

Tig walked to the center of the room, a few feet from the three of you. “Base Chief is kinda a tool, but who knows, maybe now that you’re here he’ll be moderately tolerable.” 

You shrugged. “No promises but if he gets too snippy I’ll whip out the phone again.” 

“Maybe he just needs a new hat” Jack quipped. Tanto looked up from the TV to point appreciatively at Jack. 

“Don’t encourage him,” Rone said as if talking about his puppy.

“Come on. He’s just a guy with a job to do.”Oz said. Based on the dynamic he was the dad of the group. Honest, serious, tough-love type of guy. Makes sense given he’s the sniper.  “He’s playing his string out, but if you talk to him, Bob did some shit back in the day.” You’d heard it a million times, some badass joins the CIA works his way up until he’s practically just a desk jockey with a power problem. Didn’t gain him any sympathy from you.

“Alright, Jack, Y/N, this is the whiteboard that’s gonna run your life for the next sixty days.” You looked over the various points of the board as Jack made his way towards the couch. Given the limited space you preferred standing just behind, leaning your hip against the back. “I want you to check it every hour cause last-minute moves pop up every minute, such as... where shotgunning it in three hours.” Everyone in the room except you, Jack, and Rone let out an audible groan of annoyance. Tanto slapped his controller onto his lap, looking up to the ceiling. Before concentrating back on the game, he looked at you. You took this opportunity to raise an eyebrow in his direction given his childlike reaction to the news. He responded with a strong but blank stare. You rolled your eyes slightly, breaking eye contact to pay attention to Rone. You were used to being dispatched on the drop of the hat, acclimating to the schedule here probably wouldn’t be too much of a pain.

“Three hours. I’ll let you know when I’m briefed.”

#Tanto x Reader #Tanto/Reader #Tanto x Y/N #13 hours #pablo schreiber #Kris Paronto #Kris Paronto x Reader #Kris Paronto/Reader

[shcherbatskya]

okay here’s the much awaited (at least for me) first chapter of my multi chapter fic, where we go from here! it will be below the cut but i’m also uploading it to ao3 here

It was supposed to be a run-of-the-mill ghoul hunt. They’d be back in a day at most. But it had been more than a day and Jack was getting worried. Normally he wouldn't be this on edge, but Sam was off the grid with Eileen and wouldn't be in range for a few days. Dean and Cas had gone to Tennessee three days ago to deal with a call from a concerned local authority who got their number after another hunter had stopped by the town to deal with a vampire nest. They’d promised Jack they would call him if they really needed him, but they hadn't been picking up his calls or listening to any of his voicemails. So he did the only thing someone with the innermost thoughts of a four-year-old would. He contacted the first person he could think of that Dean and Cas cared about, minus Sam.

Claire was doing the normal thing to be doing at one in the morning on a Tuesday. Sleeping. She was understandably alarmed when someone knocked on the door at that hour. She opened the door, marine-grade knife in hand (a birthday present from Dean), to a kid no older than herself.

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing at my house at two in the morning,” she questioned.

“Hi! I’m Jack.” He raised his hand and did a little wave.

“Okay, Jack, still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I’m sort of your little brother? Did Dean and Cas not tell you?”

Dean and Cas? Huh. They had mentioned a kid, but she had expected a toddler not a teenage boy. “The god kid?”

“Yeah!”

“Huh. Okay then, so why aren’t you with Dean and Cas right now? They kick you out or something?”

“No, they’ve been on a hunting trip. They haven’t been home or answered any of my calls in a few days,” he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, “I came here to see if you’d help me look for them.”

Claire could see how worried the kid was and if anything she was no stranger to absent parents and she’d stop anyone going through that if she could. Plus it’s not like she had anything better to do these days.

“Okay but you have to let me get the rest of my night’s sleep. I’ll pack a bag and we’ll hit the road tomorrow morning.”

Jack was pretty much beaming at her now, it was evident that he looked up to Claire from what Dean and Cas had told him about her. Kaia, who he regularly talked to, also told him a lot about Claire. She was like the sibling he never had!

Claire already had a bag packed. It was her ‘drop everything, something bad has happened and I need to haul ass’ bag, so far she hadn’t had to use it aside from one time she just didn’t feel like packing a real bag. She didn’t think she ever would have to, but here she was. The stakes of the whole ordeal hadn’t set in her mind until now. If they didn’t find them or get there in time, Dean and Cas could be dead. They could be dead right now. She put those thoughts out of her mind, in favor of the more optimistic outlook of Jack’s probably just paranoid. She still couldn’t sleep very well that night.

Jack was still sitting on the couch in the living room. Claire still lived with Jody and the other girls so he couldn’t do much else without waking someone up. He eventually fell asleep on the couch. He woke up when Claire came into the room.

“You ready to go or what?” She asked.

“Yeah yeah im ready,” he mumbled back, still half asleep.

“Do you want me to drive?” Claire asked.

“I don’t have a car,” Jack said, with a look like it was the most obvious thing in the world that he wouldn’t have a car.

“How the hell did you get here then?”

“I can teleport.”

“I guess I’m driving then.”

Claire put her bag in the back seat and Jack took the passenger seat of Claire’s old Subaru. And they were off.

“So where are we going”

“Dean said they were going to Tennessee for a ghoul hunt. Someone in a small town called them, I’m not sure what town though.”

“Well, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, then.”

They did have a lot of ground to cover. The seventeen-hour drive from South Dakota to Tennessee was a lot in and of itself, but to try and find Dean and Cas without having a clue where to look was another story.

“Do you want to look in the news for somewhere to start?” Claire asked, not looking away from the road. “Maybe if you found something in our lane we could take care of that and see if they knew anything about Dean and Cas.”

“Good idea.” Jack seemed to be happy just being out of the bunker and having something to do. He pulled out his phone to look at any news, he looked at all the major cities first. There weren’t that many. Nothing in Nashville or Knoxville.

“Heres something! A public works director in Chattanooga ran over the city treasurer with a car.”

“That just sounds like regular murder. Probably for money or something, maybe they wanted the position.”

“Yeah but there have been an increasing number of murder cases there, way more than normal, all in the past two weeks. It’s worth a shot, isn’t it? If it’s not our thing then we can just move on.”

“Chattanooga here we come, I guess,” Claire said. It wasn���t exactly the place she had thought of when thinking of the trip, she’d imagined a lot more action and less investigating a murder in Tennessee. But hey, it’s not for her sake. If it gets Dean and Cas back safe it’s worth it in her eyes.

About another hour passed in relative silence. It was going to get awkward if they were like this for another 12 hours.

“So do you listen to music?” Claire asked, just to break the silence.

“Yeah, I do. Mostly whatever Dean listens to.”

“Well do you want to play something?”

“Sure!” He seemed oddly excited about something as ordinary as picking the music, but he mostly rode in the car with Dean which means other people seldom got their say in what they listened to. Claire’s car had an aux cable which was also more than one could say about Baby. Jack really didn’t listen to much, he would listen to Disney soundtracks on occasion, but those are a sort of ‘listen to it once then it gets annoying’ thing.

“What are your thoughts on lo-fi hip hop beats to chill/study/sleep to,” Jack asked in a way that didn’t really sound like a question.

“There is really nothing else you can think of. In your super powerful angel kid brain, all you can think of is lo-fi beats to chill/study/sleep to.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Truth be told Claire would rather listen to anything but lo-fi beats at the moment, but when put on the spot like that it’s hard to come up with an idea.

“We could just take turns playing songs for a while.”

It was a flat stretch of land for a good amount of miles up ahead so Claire didn’t need to focus so much energy on watching the road.

They went back and forth, Jack played Rainbow Connection from the Muppets and Claire played Celebrity Skin by Hole, so on and so forth. They went on like this for a while, Jack really liked Abba apparently. They eventually agreed on one of the premade “road trip” playlists on spotify. It was mostly dad rock.

“You still need to eat and stuff, right?”

“Yes, I may be part angel but I still have human DNA and organs.”

“Do you want to stop soon? It might be nice to stay overnight somewhere and just get there in the afternoon.”

“Sure. Saint Lewis isn’t too far away from here.”

They stopped at a shitty fast food restaurant and then went to try and find a motel. Instead of stopping directly in Saint Lewis, they decided to go nearer to Mark Twain National Park, as they figured they would find better luck finding somewhere available without a reservation. And they did. A shabby-looking motel almost directly off the one-lane road. They headed inside and sure enough, there were more than enough rooms. It was by no means the most pleasant place either of them had stayed, but it would do for the night. They’d be out early tomorrow morning. They checked in, the woman working at the desk couldn’t have been more than in her early twenties, which wasn’t what you would think of when you walked in, but they’d seen more suspicious things. Claire dumped her bag at the end of the bed closest to the door.

#samael speaks #sammy sires #jack kline #claire novak #supernatural #spn #ill reblog this and tag people in a sec hold on

[5-seconds-of-bucky]

🐠🐟

A/N: *Emoji title because I have no clue what to name this* I got so many comments on this blurb about the fish and I felt legally obligated to write something about it so here ya go :) It was supposed to be a small blurb but I got carried away 😉

Summery: Your son gets his fish

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: None

“Daddy, can I open the really big one first?” Jack asked as soon as he laid his eyes on the large object wrapped in shiny paper next to the Christmas tree. He ran over to the gift, placing his hands on the top and leaning in close to it. There were plenty of gifts for him and Lilli in the living room, but he was of course enticed by the largest one.

“Hold on, bubs. Let me take your picture in front of the tree,” you said, grabbing your phone from the coffee table and snapping a few pictures of him. He moved back towards the gift again as Shawn walked in with a tired looking Lilliana on his hip. “Let’s take another one with Lilli.”

Shawn sat Lilliana down next to Jack, letting you take a few more pictures before scooping her back into his arms.

“Can I open it now?” Jack asked hopping up, antsy to see what could possibly be under the paper he wanted so badly to rip away.

“Let’s start off with some smaller gifts, kiddo,” Shawn suggested as he sat down next to you.

“Why don’t we start with this one?” You grabbed a smaller one from beneath the tree and handed it to him, watching his eyes light up as he saw what was inside.

It continued like that for a while: you and Shawn handing out gifts to Jack and helping Lilli open some of hers After nearly 45 minutes of unwrapping, you were almost done. The only unopened gift was the big surprise Jack was adamant you let him open soon.

“Alrighty, last one, bubs.” You held up your phone, wanting to get what you knew was going to be a very excited reaction on tape.

Jack didn’t need to be told another word, quickly getting to work and tearing the paper off like his life depended on it. He paused once the top was visible, immediately screaming with excitement and jumping around. Lilli got excited too, wiggling around and squealing even though she had no idea what was going on.

“What’d you get?” Shawn asked through his laughs.

“Fissssh!”

“Well let’s see it. Take the rest of the wrapping paper off.”

He went over to fully unwrap the present, revealing a fish tank with various fish furniture in it. There was obviously no fish in it, but that did nothing to deter Jack’s excitement. He’d been asking for a fish for so long. It was a five year old’s dream come true.

“We’re getting a fishy!”

As happy as you were that he was excited, you didn’t hear about non-fish related come out of his mouth for the next three days. Every day, at least six times a day, he’d ask when you were going to go get the fish. Santa brought the fish home but he wanted Jack to pick out the fish himself so Jack was going to have to wait until you could drive him to the store to get one.

“We’re going to go on Sunday,” you kept telling him. You and Shawn both wanted to be there when he picked one out, which meant that you had to wait until both of you had the day off. Jack was growing more impatient by the day and you did your best to distract him from the topic by talking about anything else but fish, but it only worked for so long before he was thinking back to it and asking you when you were going to get it.

You woke up before everyone else on Saturday morning; a rarity in the Mendes household. You were usually woken up by someone accidentally being too loud at 7 a.m. but it appeared that everyone was worn out from the night before. You had a family game night that got intense when you played Candy Land and you and Shawn got to the end before Jack. Jack was not too happy about that so you ended up playing about seven rematches and everyone was hyped up the whole time.

You were able to sit on the porch for forty-five minutes or with your mug of tea before Lilli found you, pulling you inside to pour her a bowl of cereal. She was telling you about her dream as you put a small bowl of Cheerios in front of her when Jacked skipped in, barreling into you to give you a hug.

“Good morning, mommy!” he said rather loudly, making you cringe just the slightest. It was too early for yelling.

“Morning, bubs.” You bent down to kiss the top of his head. “What’cha want for breakfast?”

“Cereal!”

“Alright, go sit down with Lilli.”

He let go of you and jumped into a chair, swinging his feet and humming some random song he made up while you made his breakfast.

“Mommy?”

“Hmm?”

“Are we getting the fish today?”

“Jack, I’ve told you enough times. We’re going-”

“Today!” Shawn announced as he entered the kitchen.

“Yeahhhh!” Jack screamed as he jumped down from the chair, running straight into Shawn’s legs to give him a hug. Shawn picked him up and peppered kisses all over his son’s face, then tossing him slightly in the air, causing Jack to burst out into loud giggles.

“Daddy, me too!” Lilli chanted from her highchair, stretching her arms out to her father. Shawn put Jack back in his seat before taking Lilli out of hers and tossing her a few times as well.

“That’s enough yelling,” you said, happy that everyone was excited but wanting to spare your ears. “Thank you.”

“When are we going?”

“Once everyone eats breakfast and gets changed.”

Jack practically snatched the bowl out of your hands as you put in front of him, eating as quickly as he could before racing to his room to pick out some clothes.  

“Morning, baby,” Shawn said after placing a kiss on your lips once Jack went to his room. “How’re you feeling this morning?”

“Feeling alright,” you replied. “Don’t you have to go to the studio today?”

“Nah, took the day off. Thought we’d surprise Jack.”

“He could’ve waited until tomorrow, you know. He needs to learn to be patient.”

“Yeah, but I think if you hear him ask when we were going to get the fish one more time you might explode so I thought I’d divert that situation.” He placed his hands on the side of your baby bump as he smiled down at you.  

“You know me so well.”

“I am your husband.” He leaned down for another kiss, squeezing your sides to elicit a giggle from you. “Now, get some food in that belly and get dressed so we can go get that fish.”

An hour later, everyone was dressed and ready to go. You buckled the kids in their carseats and drove to the pet store, letting Jack talk himself to death about how excited he was. He was ready to jump out of the car the second it was in park but Shawn stopped him, telling him that the fish weren’t going anywhere and he needed to be safe if he wanted to get one.

Jack grabbed Shawn’s hand as you unbuckled Lilli and placed her on your hip. You walked across the parking lot, having to remind Jack that he needed to be holding someone’s hand as he walked into the store. Shawn had to jog to keep up with the energetic toddler.

You walked through the doors together and Jack looked around to find the fish section. He spotted it pretty quickly and tugged on Shawn’s arm so they could go over there. The four of you made your way to the wall of tiny fish tanks and Jack jumped up and down at the sight of it.

“Daddy, look at all the fish!” His grip left Shawn’s hand to get closer to the tanks with various colorful fish. “Look at this one! It’s eyes are so big!”

You both laughed as you shifted Lilli to your other hip, walking closer to look at the fish with eyes too large for its head. Before either of you could make a comment about the fish, Jack was already moving to the next tank to see what was inside.

“This one is rainbow!”

“Me see!” Lilli said. You put her down on the ground, following close behind as she toddled over to Jack. “Fishy!”    

The two of them walked across the wall, Jack telling Lilli what color each of them was as they stopped to look at each tank.

“We did a good job,” Shawn commented as he came over to stand closer and wrap an arm around your waist.

“With what? Driving our kids to the pet store?” You kept your eyes on them, not wanting to look away in case they wandered off.

“I mean making and raising them but that too I guess,” he chuckled, resting his head atop yours.

“Well we got one more coming so I wouldn’t say anything quite yet.”

“Oh stop, you know they’re going to be just as great as these two.”

“I know.” You turned your head to kiss his shoulder. “Three’s a lot though.”

“We’re going to be fine. No stress, it’s bad for the baby.”

You rolled your eyes at that, pushing him off of you playfully.

“Mommy, daddy, I want this one!” Jack said eagerly, pointing to a tank full of red and blue fish.

“Ooh, that’s a pretty one, Jack,” you said as you made your way to him, crouching down to get a better look at the fish swimming around.

Shawn found an associate to get the fish into a bag as Jack blabbered to the fish about what the outside world is like.

“We live in a big house. And there’s a playground near it! Daddy takes me to it all the time. Maybe you can come too!”

The associate handed the plastic bag to a beaming Jack, who took hold of the bag like it was the most delicate of babies.

“This is my little sister, Lilli.” He proudly turned the bag so the fish was facing his sister. “Lilli, say hi!”

“Hi, fishy!” Lilli waved at the fish.

“Wait, mommy, can the fishy get a sister too?”

You looked at Shawn.

“I don’t see why not,” he said with a shrug.

So now you were a family of six, and soon to be seven.

Taglist //add yourself//masterlist 

@fallinallincurls @lonelyreputation @musicalkeys @voguesir @shawnsreputation @drayshadow @otaculo @mendesficsxbombay @aelingathynius

(Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you) 

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes one shot #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Mendes x reader #Shawn Mendes x Y/N #Reader insert #Y/N #Dad!Shawn #Husband!Shawn #Shawn Mendes fluff #Anna writes

[expectingtofly]

First Day Jitters

established dean/cas, toddler!jack, dramatic parenting

1.7k

written for day 4 of @smiledean and @chocolatecakecas's follower celebration || prompt: baby!jack

“Say cheese.”

“CHEESE!” Jack beamed at the camera and Dean snapped a photo. Gripping his backpack straps, Jack twirled around as Dean lowered his phone. The school yard was already filling up with other kids Jack’s age, ready for their first day of school.

“Wait, take one of us together,” Cas said, crouching down by Jack. Jack threw his arms around Cas’ neck, nearly making him lose his balance. They both smiled at the camera, twin grins, and Dean couldn’t help a smile as he took their photo.

“Kindergarten!” Jack yelled as he released his grip on Cas.

“Alright, dude, remember,” Dean said, pocketing his phone. “No yelling in class.”

“And no powers,” Sam spoke up. “Most important rule of all.”

Jack nodded solemnly. “And if anyone picks on you…” Dean looked at him expectantly.

“Hit first, ask questions later!”

Cas rubbed at his forehead. “Dean, we’ve talked about this.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Tell us and we’ll beat them up for you.”

“Okay,” Jack said, kicking at loose gravel with his cowboy boots. He had picked out his outfit himself—boots with bee socks, jeans with sunflower patches, and a blue t-shirt with a green brontosaurus. Complete with a Barbie backpack, his outfit was truly… colorful. A lot for the eyes to handle at once.

Teachers milled around outside, and Cas said, “There’s Jack’s teacher.” He waved and she made a pained smile before quickly looking away.

Dean stifled a laugh at Cas’ hurt expression. “Guess we didn’t make the best first impression at Back to School night.”

“Who woulda known asking to lay out salt lines wouldn’t make you any friends,” Sam deadpanned.

“I still think we should’ve warded the school,” Dean protested.

“We’re trying to not get kicked out,” Sam shot back.

“Hey!” Jack said, getting their attention. He balled up his fists on his hips. “No fighting! This is an exciting day!”

“Yes, it is,” Cas agreed, giving them a pointed look. “And we are very excited for you.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Dean said, holding up his hands. A bell rang and a teacher opened the door to the school. “Think it’s time to go.”

Jack turned to watch the rush of kids to the school, his backpack nearly as large as he was. Had the school building always towered over him like that? Dean wondered.

“Exciting day,” Jack said to himself, sounding less sure.

“Hey,” Sam said, crouching by his side. “You’re gonna have fun, okay?”

Jack looked back at them and Dean nodded. “We’ll be waiting for you when school’s over.”

Jack took a deep breath, then smiled. “Okay.” He gave them all one last hug, and Dean couldn’t resist smoothing out his hair and checking the straps on his backpack.

When Jack let go of Cas, Cas grabbed his hand, holding tight. “You’ll pray to me, right? If anything happens?” Jack nodded, tugging a little to get away.

Cas held on. “And you’ll remember everything to tell us when you get home?”

“Yes, Dada.” He tugged again and Cas let him go.

Dean watched him run to join the kids lining up at the doors. The teachers counted them, and Jack started chattering with the boy standing in front of him wearing a dinosaur backpack.

“Fuck,” Dean swore under his breath, feeling his eyes prickle as the teachers started leading the kids inside. Jack skipped his way to the door, his backpack bouncing behind him. Right before he disappeared inside, he turned and waved.

Dean hastily blinked and swallowed hard, waving back.

The doors closed behind the kids and the yard was reduced to silence.

“Now what?” Cas asked, staring at the doors.

“Now we leave and don’t stalk the school,” Sam said. He grinned, looking at Dean. “Are you crying?”

“Shut up,” Dean said, wiping at his eyes brusquely. They started for their cars, though he couldn’t help looking back. Third window on the righthand side, second floor. Jack’s classroom. He’d cased the school last week, learned the exits and entrances. Still, standing outside, he felt helpless.

“Shit—he had his lunchbox, right?” he asked, hand pausing on the Impala’s driver's door. “And his pencil case, and—”

“You checked his backpack three times this morning,” Cas reminded him. “He has everything.”

“Right, right..."

“See you guys later for dinner?” Sam asked, heading to his own car.

“See ya then,” Dean agreed, getting in the driver’s seat. He paused before putting the key in the ignition, though, eyes drawn to the school doors.

“He’s going to do great,” Cas said, sounding a little too much like he was trying to convince himself.

Dean nodded. Jack had done great in preschool and they had spent all summer preparing him for the transition into kindergarten. Not that Jack needed much convincing to go. He loved school; it was more Dean and Cas who needed time to adjust to the idea.

A sniff drew his eyes to Cas, who was wiping at his eyes.

“Fuck, not you too,” Dean complained, feeling his own eyes well up again.

“His carseat,” Cas said simply, and Dean glanced at the backseat where Jack’s empty carseat sat.

“Shit,” he muttered, sinking in his seat and rubbing his eyes. “Thought we were pros at this after a year of preschool.”

“Guess not,” Cas said. He produced a tissue box out of thin air and handed one to Dean, then blew his own nose.

“Alright, enough,” Dean said, swiping at his nose and balling up the tissue. “Enough crying. He’s going to kindergarten, not off to war.”

Cas nodded and determined, Dean pulled out of the parking lot. He and Cas had taken the day off, which in hindsight was the wrong move because now they had too much time on their hands. Trying to distract themselves with errands didn’t help either because everything suddenly reminded them of Jack.

They went to the local gardening center, where Cas stroked the daisy petals with a soft look in his eyes. “I should buy some for Jack.”

And then the bakery: “We gotta have snacks when he comes home,” Dean told Cas, selecting a dozen donuts.

And, stopping at the street taco food truck downtown: “Jack’s eating lunch now,” Cas said, checking the time, the mournful look on his face not matching the delicious taco in his hand. “And then recess.”

“Hope he’s made friends,” Dean said, his own taco suddenly tasting flavorless.

“He will. He’s very friendly.” One tear dripped into his guacamole.

“For fuck’s sake,” Dean said, gathering up the remainders of his food. “Come on.”

The school yard was alive with kids yelling, laughing, swinging, playing hopscotch, and skipping rope. Dean idled close to the curb, scanning the yard through the fence. He was well aware that he and Cas looked extremely suspicious now, but he hoped the school parking pass hanging from the rearview mirror helped prove they weren't creeps. Just overly protective parents. Which was only a bit better.

“There he is!” Cas said, pointing out his window. Dean leaned over him to see Jack jumping over a hopscotch chalk drawing. One foot, two feet, one foot, two. Reaching the end, another kid high-fived him and Jack beamed. He cheered as someone else went through the course, then, the game abandoned, Jack ran with the others to the swings.

He swung higher and higher, cowboy boots kicking into the air. Dean was pretty sure he could hear his laughter rising above everyone else’s.

“We’re being stupid,” Dean realized. Cas looked at him. “He’s fine. He’s doing great. We don’t have to worry, we just gotta let him do his thing.”

Cas looked back at Jack, then took a deep breath. “You’re right.” The bell rang and Jack slowed his swing, jumped off, and joined the kids headed inside.

Determinedly facing forward, Cas said, “Alright. He’s got this.”

“We got this,” Dean amended, and Cas smiled.

“We got this.”

***

“DAD!” Jack ran full force to Dean, crashing against his legs. Before Dean could recover, Jack turned to Cas, who crouched down and took him into his arms, nearly getting knocked down in the process. He held onto him tightly, shutting his eyes as he buried his face into Jack’s shoulder.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too,” Jack said, extricating himself from his grip to hold up a slightly crinkled piece of paper. “I drew a brontosaurus!”

“That’s beautiful, Jack,” Cas said, admiring the drawing. “That’s going on the fridge.”

“Had a good day?” Dean asked. Around them, other kids streamed out of the school to waiting parents, and Jack nodded enthusiastically.

“The best!” He took Cas’ offered hand and told them about his day as they walked to the Impala. True to his word, he had remembered every detail, down to the amount of times he used the bathroom and the name of the lunch lady.

“And I got to swing at recess!” he told them, clambering into his carseat.

Dean and Cas caught each others’ eyes guiltily over the Impala’s roof. “I’m glad you had so much fun,” Cas told Jack, buckling him in.

“Thanks.” He swung his legs as they got into the front seat. “Did you have a good day?”

Cas glanced at Dean. There were plenty ways to answer that question. Looking back, though, seeing Jack bravely walking into school, being so independent, making friends…

"Missed you, but we managed,” Dean answered truthfully.

Cas smiled at Dean before twisting around to look at Jack. “We’re proud of you, Jack,” he told him, and Dean nodded.

“Did you cry?” Jack asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Sam said you were going to cry. I didn’t cry.”

“Just a little,” Cas admitted. Dean snorted and Cas elbowed him. “Dean more than me.”

“Hey!” Dean protested.

Jack cackled. “I knew it!”

Dean shook his head, muttering about murdering Sam. Jack continued his recap of the day, and Dean resigned himself to getting stuck in after-school traffic for the next twenty minutes.

Leaning back in his seat, he grinned at Jack stumbling over his words in his excitement to share them. It was a good day.

#b&acw #creativecaviar #spncreatorsdaily #did anyone ask for more dean and cas being overly dramatic teary parents? #no #did i write more? #hell yeah #established dean/cas #baby jack #dadstiel #cas and dean are in touch with their emotions #so they cry a lot idk #destiel fic #expectingtofly writes