"alas" Is A Truly S Tier English Word. Fantastic Mouthfeel, Makes Me Sound Like A World-weary Wizard,

Sir I am a Supernatural fan

When... when they... 10 years later...

helloooo

Remember, remember the 5th of November

the plot of civil war in one image

Yeah I’ve read the classics…

CONGRATS ON 2K!!! i’m so happy for you. here’s a cookie for you, you deserve it 🍪

💃 prompt 5&6 for everyone’s favourite mass murderer - frank castle. thank youu <3<3<3

— 🍪 received. with love. thank you so much for your request omg. number 6 is SUCH a frank thing like exactly a line i would write for him. hope you like this one!!

— prompts:

💃 5. mm. your warm

💃 6. no— no. it’s alright. come here

— warnings: swearing.

[grippingbeskar’s 2k night out celebration!]

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You stand at his door, dripping rainwater on his very small doorstep. Frank looks at you, wearing nothing but his boxers, with a slightly confused look on his face.

It was true. You had no where else to go. You’d been kicked out of your old apartment, and the place you were staying… well, it wasn’t actually yours, and unfortunately the very rich and very angry owners of the house had made an unexpected trip home.

They, obviously, called the police, which you didn’t want to stick around for, running in the pouring rain to the first place you could think of going. Franks house.

Your relationship was… complicated at best. Most of the time you hated each other, but the few times your interests had aligned, you worked better together than anyone you had teamed up with before. Not to mention Frank Castle stirred up feelings in you that you hadn’t felt in a long time, ones you weren’t sure you even still had.

He doesn’t say anything, just stands aside and lets you walk through the doorway, locking it behind you. He disappears into another room, and you try to minimise how much water you drip onto his floor, shuffling out of your shorts and jumper. He’d sewn you up more times than you could count, so being exposed around him wasn’t really something that made you feel anything.

What did make you freeze up was when he came back into the room, the look in his eyes and the way he watched you take the towel and clothes he had brought you, and how you felt his eyes burning holes in your figure.

He turned around to let you dry off, and only when he wasn’t looking at you did he talk.

“You must be desperate. Comin’ here.” You scoff, trying to ring out your hair before sliding a sweater over your body. It smelt like him— his cologne mixed with something sharp and metallic.

“Don’t have a lot of time to make friends, thanks to you.” He had brought you a pair of sweatpants, knowing you’d be freezing, but even the added warmth didn’t stop you from shivering. Frank turned around, hearing you swear at how your teeth were chattering together. “I’m freezing.”

“There’s a uh—fireplace. In my room.” You were already moving, too fucking cold to worry about how he’d practically just invited you to his bed.

His room was small, but there was a lit fireplace surrounded by brick. It was pretty, sure, but also a testament to how old the building was. You wondered why he’d never bothered to move someplace nicer. He could certainly afford it now. At least move to a place built this century.

You sat yourself on the edge of his bed, that was just close enough to the fire to thaw you out. You were still shivering, and you hadn’t taken your eyes off the fire long enough to notice Frank walking in, let alone sitting down next to you. Your body moved towards him when the mattress dips to his weight, and you do nothing to stop it.

“I’ll b-be out s-s-soon. Fucking rain j-just…” Your eyes close, trying to focus on stopping yourself from shivering so hard. It was almost exhausting— now you’re out of the rain you can feel how ice-cold it was, chilling you to the bone.

“You’re fine. Not like I got any plans either. Thanks to you.” Your teeth stop banging together long enough to scoff a little. You had both been making a dent in the FBI’s most wanted list, this being a time when your interests seemed to match up.

When he shuffles on the bed next to you, you can almost feel how warm he is through the small distance. His bed is messy from where he’s jumped out of it when you banged on his door, and you are fucking freezing—

You lean into him, your cheek brushing against his shoulder. The sudden contact makes you jerk back, despite how much you need to be close to him. Need him— no, not him. His body heat. You have to remind yourself of that.

“S-sorry.” You whisper, hardly audible above the crackling of fire.

“No— no. It’s alright. Come here.” He moves closer, wrapping his arms around you. His hands cling to you, rubbing along your arm trying to get the feeling to come back to them.

Abandoning any remaining pride, you lean into him again, this time falling into the hard lines of his chest, bringing your legs up and over his so he was practically holding you.

He turns around, keeping one arm holding you, and twists back with a blanket. It’s big and soft, and smells like the jumper he gave you when he wraps it around your shivering body.

“Better?” You nod quickly, afraid to move and lose any of the warmth you’ve started to retain. You also don’t want to risk having him move. You don’t know why you think that, but you just know your body wants to stay as close to him as possible. “You got anyone you needa call?”

“No one.” He nods above you, understanding.

“New roommates kick you out?”

“They didn’t know they had a roommate, so I guess they h-had a fair response.” Frank laughs quietly, and you turn your face upward, seeing a small smile. “Shut up.”

“You couldn’t just get a hotel room?”

“We aren’t all paid by special agents and veteran benefits.”

“Fair.” His arms tighten around you, feeling you still shaking slightly. You aren’t sure it’s from the cold anymore, with how his hand has slipped under the blanket, holding your waist. “Stay here.”

“What?” You sit up in his arms, and your faces are so close that you nearly whack his head.

“Stay here.” You probably look as confused as he did when you first showed up. “I see you every day. Until this shit blows over, and we’re done, stay here.”

You don’t know why he would be kidding, and his face tells you he’s deadly serious. Stay here. With him. Why the hell would he want that?

You have been nothing but a prick in his side since you moved here, getting in his way when he approached on what you claimed to be your mission. You were the one out of line, but here he was, offering you something like safety. Something you hadn’t had in a long time.

“So you can shove me out in the pouring rain, too?” You can’t look at him now, burying your face in his neck. “Way to kick me when I’m down.”

“No rain. Bed’s small, though.”

“You’ll have to be the little spoon.” Nothing is quiet about the way you both laugh, the silence of his small room filled with the light sound. You feel the hand on your waist let go, only to come back further down, around your hip.

“That a yes?” You look up and roll your eyes, but a small nod answers his question. “Alright.”

Apparently, it was that easy. Frank held you there, as close to the fire as you could get without jumping in it, and when you finally started to return to a normal temperature, you felt him shift under you.

“It okay if we…” He was tired, you could tell, and the look on his face had you moving up the small bed, claiming one of the two pillows he used.

Slowly, he laid down next to you, and you couldn’t bare the distance, pulling him closer as soon as he laid down.

“Mm. You’re warm.” You say into the crook of his neck, and he breathes in deeply, one of his hands running along your spine.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Good for something, at least.” At that, he forces you to spin around, and his body presses against your back while his arm wraps around your chest, keeping you bundled in the blankets and him.

“Go to sleep.” His lips brush against the back of your neck, and you can feel his smile when he talks. The intimate gesture sends all the heat you would ever need flooding your veins, and you fall into unconscious at the sound of his breathing.

there should've been a scene where dean teaches cas how to shoot a gun with his body pressed into cas' back all ghost pottery scene style

Castiel is the only thing real in Dean's life. Everything else was wrote in the way Chuck felt was more appropriate. Mother, father, brother, with the story unfolding in the directions he set. They did what they were told, Chuck said, but not you, not you, not you, Castiel.

When Dean asks "what about all of this is real?" and Castiel answers "we are", he was right.

they're going to reunite this year. don't ask me how I know.