#(tuesday light me up : that’s the title of the fic in my head)

[a-very-fond-farewell]

hear me out hear me out, come closer (*looks around to make sure we are alone*) I have thoughts on Beyond Evil. ik, unusual for me, but sometimes one has to come to terms with the horrors (affectionate).

no bc it has come to my attention that most of the fandom sees Han Juwoon as a bottom which... fair. daddy issues? rod stuck up his princely ass? so uncomfortable around humans that I doubt he’s ever been kissed? I can see that. I respect that. I want that for him.

but consider the specimen knows as Lee Dongsik. the milfiest, cougarest, most depressive pixie dream man ever conceived who, sure, does have impressive top energy, and rizz for ages, but could also be the power bottom of poor Han Juwoon’s dreams.

basically, it’s about a pathetic inexperienced guy trying to not fall for the wine auntie he’s secretly banging in the back of the local fast food hub every tuesday on the clock. and he gets to top that only bc said auntie allows it and bc he’s trying to quit smoking.

so verse JWDS is good. I think it’s neat.

[torreshalstead]

It Seemed Like a Good Idea - Chapter 22

Summary - Hailey’s US visa was due to expire, which normally wouldn’t be an issue as the CPD would get it renewed but due to a backlog of paperwork, this wasn’t possible. This meant Hailey was faced with the real possibility of having to leave the country, her job and everything she held dear. That was until Jay offered up a solution which would allow her to stay in Chicago, in Intelligence, with him - they could get married. Getting married was a good idea, right?

Chapter Title - The Anniversary

Chapters - 22/22

Notes - Happy 1 year anniversary to this fic! This story is so so special to me and it seemed only fitting to celebrate it’s one year anniversary with this chapter 🥰 I hope you all enjoy and happy reading! ❤️ AO3 Link

‘Happy Anniversary,’ Jay’s voice echoed through her mind as Hailey pulled herself back into the land of the living. They’d had a late night at Molly’s celebrating Kevin finally getting his well deserved Detective’s badge and as such her head was pounding more than it should be on a Tuesday morning. Hailey frowned as she adjusted herself into a seated position in the bed, the sheets pooling around her waist. She looked over to her husband who was standing in the doorway, his frame outlined from the living room light.

He was wearing a loose fitting pair of shorts, the ones he kept in the bedside cabinet to throw on in the mornings in case someone knocked at the door or another such reason why he couldn’t stroll around in his birthday suit as was his preference. But he never put on a shirt until he had his morning shower, something Hailey was eternally grateful for. He would never wear a shirt if she had her way. This morning however her gaze pulled from his bare chest to the tray in his hands, a pile of waffles were stacked neatly on a plate, a little jug of syrup and a small dish of strawberries sat next to them and a single orchid in a vase adorned the tray.

‘Anniversary?’ She said, the words he had said finally registering. ‘It’s not our anniversary.’

‘It definitely is my dear wife,’ Jay smirked and sat on the tray on her lap, pressing a soft kiss to her bewildered forehead.

‘It’s not either of them,’ Hailey said puzzled. ‘Not the first wedding or the second.’

‘Happy Anniversary,’ Jay repeated, his eyes crinkling at the side as his smile only grew at her bewilderment. ‘I’m going to have a shower whilst you enjoy your breakfast.’

And with that, he strolled into their en-suite leaving a very confused Hailey staring at the plate of waffles - her favourite. She wasn’t going crazy, neither of their anniversaries were today. She knew that because she had both in her calendar on her phone with a reminder set for the day before, she was useless at remembering things like birthdays and anniversaries but didn’t want to forget either of these. Although they had decided their official anniversary would be the day they renewed their vows, she had wanted to surprise Jay with a little something on the day they legally tied the knot. Glancing at her phone and registering the date, that still wasn’t for a few more days. He must be confused.

—————————————————————————

‘You know our legal anniversary isn’t until Sunday right?’ Hailey asked as Jay pulled the truck out onto the street heading towards the district.

‘I know our legal wedding anniversary isn’t until Sunday, Hailey,’ Jay said with a nod of his head. ‘That’s why I didn’t say ‘Happy Legal Wedding Anniversary’ this morning,’ he smirked. ‘You’ll figure it out, you’re an excellent detective.’ He threw a wink over to her as a space in the traffic appeared and he merged into the left lane.

‘I know I’m an excellent detective,’ Hailey scoffed. ‘But I also know that today isn’t our anniversary.’

‘Your stubbornness is just one of the many reasons why I love you,’ Jay said sweetly.

‘And your knowledge of calendars is not one of the reasons I love you,’ Hailey quipped, huffing as she turned to stare out the window. She hated not being in the know and there was clearly something Jay was aware of here that she wasn’t but as much as she racked her brain to try and figure it out, nothing came forward.

‘How were your waffles?’

‘Delicious,’ she said, ‘thank you,’ she added softly. Even if she didn’t know why he had brought her breakfast in bed, she was still grateful for it. She was forever thankful she had him in her life.

‘You’re more than welcome,’ he said, turning to flash her a smile before resuming his focus on the road. ‘If you haven’t figured it out by dinner, then I’ll tell you.’

Hailey folded her arms slightly over dramatically but couldn’t help the small grin that tugged on her cheeks when Jay laughed loudly at the sight. She couldn’t predict the future but she knew as long as they still made each other laugh and smile, they could get through anything.

——————————————————————————

‘And you’re certain today isn’t your anniversary?’ Kim said after Hailey filled her in by the coffee machine a couple of hours into their shift.

‘I’m certain,’ Hailey said, although she was partially tempted to check their marriage certificate when she returned home. She was starting to think maybe she had mixed up the dates, Jay had been so sure of himself this morning.

‘And it’s not the marriage we came to or the romantic one you ran off and had by yourself?’

Hailey rolled her eyes, ‘no, it’s neither.’

‘And it’s not the first time, you know…’ Kim tailed off with her eyebrows raised.

‘No!’ Hailey said loudly, ‘it’s not that either!’

‘Well, I was just checking,’ Kim raised her hands in mock apology but was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. ‘Some people like to celebrate that anniversary as well.’

‘When you already have two wedding anniversaries you would have thought that would be enough, clearly not for my husband,’ Hailey rolled her eyes.

‘It’s adorable when you call him your husband,’ Kim said with a grin.

‘You want me to call him Detective Halstead?’ Hailey sassed back, leaning back against the counter and raising an eyebrow.

‘No, I just remember when you were so wrapped up in your own feelings you couldn’t see what was right in front of your face,’ Kim said matter of factly. ‘Now look at you, almost married a year.’

‘Yeah,’ Hailey mused wistfully. If Kim only knew how much she had been wrapped up in those feelings. They had never come clean to their friends about the arrangements for their wedding and subsequent marriage, it felt almost like a non event now. There was such a small amount of time where they were married that they hadn’t actually been a couple in love that it seemed a moot point to bring it up.

There was also the small matter of the fact that technically they had lied to the government and the immigration department and could definitely still end up in prison or at least she could end up back on a plane to Canada if the truth ever got out. So they kept it to themselves, a little part of their relationship that was only theirs to know. Hailey was sure one day it would come out, maybe at a retirement party with one too many whiskeys or at another event with the alcohol flowing freely and tongues were a little loose.

Still the only people who knew the truth were her, Jay, Will and Mouse. And Hailey liked it that way. Even Will and Mouse didn’t quite know everything that had gone on behind closed doors to prepare for the marriage and the visa application, how much they had had to fake.

A moment drifted into Hailey’s mind, a moment that was supposed to be fake but had turned out to be very very real.

How had she not figured it out?

It had happened just a couple of days before the court house.

And if anything it was the most important anniversary. Of course Jay had remembered it.

She wondered how she had forgotten it, how she had let it slip from her mind.

——————————————————————————

By the time the end of the day rolled around, she had successfully managed to avoid Jay. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him, of course she did, but she wanted to surprise him that she had remembered what they were celebrating today and they saw each other beforehand, he would rib her for the fact she had failed to recall it initially. She shot him a text to let him know she would meet him at home and happily accepted a lift home with Kevin. She asked nicely and he was happy to pull into the nearest grocery store so she could pick up a couple of supplies and then dropped her back to the apartment.

Hailey didn’t know how long she had until Jay came home but she got to work implementing her slightly hasty but nevertheless well thought out plan immediately.

Jay walked in the door about 40 minutes later which was just enough time for Hailey to put the finishing touches to the table and stand proudly behind it, her hands clasped tightly in front of herself, fingers grazing the wedding band as she watched him walk in.

‘Hailey,’ he said softly, a warm smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. Ignoring his usual need for neatness he dropped his bag next to the door, his jacket along with it.

‘I remembered,’ Hailey said, not caring if she was blushing slightly. Jay was looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world and although she loved him senselessly, it still got to her sometimes how he viewed her. No one had ever looked at her like that before him.

‘And you made Spanakopita,’ Jay said as he approached the small dining table, glancing down to the two dishes that were set in the middle, candles lit either side. ‘And Apple Pie, my moms apple pie.’

‘They were the dishes we made,’ Hailey spoke softly. ‘When we had to properly pretend in front of Mouch and Trudy, and I half kissed you and then the next day you announced that we needed to actually book our wedding.’

‘And then we went to sleep,’ Jay continued, the memory obviously as clear in his mind as it was in hers.

‘And then I woke up,’ Hailey spoke quietly as Jay continued to encroach on her space, his arms snaking their way around her back to hold her close to him.

‘And so you woke me up.’

‘And I said we shouldn’t have our first kiss in front of our friends,’ Hailey looked up at him through her lashes, remembering how his expression had changed when she had suggested or almost demanded that they should kiss right there and then, on his bed in the middle of the night.

‘So we didn’t,’ Jay’s smile was warm like a summer's day. ‘We kissed right there and that’s when it hit me. I mean really hit me, that not only was I marrying you. But I was doing it because I wanted to. I was doing it because I loved you.’

‘It was a pretty special kiss,’ Hailey melted into him. They had discussed before that that moment had been a turning point for both of them where they realised their feelings were more than something that could be tucked into a box in a closet and forgotten about. That just being friends wasn’t something they were going to be able to do, they needed more.

‘It’s my favourite kiss,’ Jay said sincerely as if he was speaking a promise. ‘Now I can kiss you whenever I want but that one will always be my favourite.’

‘Mine too,’ she said. ‘Sorry for kind of jumping you in the middle of the night.’

‘You can jump me in the middle of the night anytime you want Hails,’ he winked, eliciting a giggle from Hailey. ‘In fact, I think you should do it more often.’

She swatted his chest lightly, ‘the food will get cold if you continue on like that Detective.’

‘And we wouldn’t want that,’ he said deeply, lowering his mouth down so it was mere inches from hers.

‘I worked hard on this dinner,’ Hailey breathed him in.

‘And I appreciate it,’ he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before gently pulling back. ‘I appreciate everything you do Hailey, so happy anniversary my love.’

‘Happy Anniversary,’ she whispered as his lips sealed themselves against hers, a memory flashing through her mind of the very first moment when they held each other like this, their lips doing the talking and saying the words their brains wouldn’t let them speak aloud.

Hailey knew the way they had found each other and fallen for each other was anything but conventional but she wouldn’t have changed a second of it, even if they had bent a few laws to get here. Getting married to her best friend for the sake of a visa had been a good idea after all.

[fluffbyday-smutbynight]

~ FluffSmut's Masterlist: Everything Else ~

SHIPPING SHIPS (original ficlets)

Love Hits You Unexpectedly, Sometimes

The Most Beautiful Ship in the World

MADE-UP FIC TITLES ~ fic ideas/synopses/plot bunnies 🐰 (generated in response to this ask game)

Fluffsmut's Totally Correct Sherlock Quotes ~ if you fancy a chuckle. Hehe.

~ BBC Sherlock: Headcanons  ~

Fluffy headcanons you can pry from my cold, dead hands

Smutty headcanons that live in my head rent free

Mycroft's Chocolate Stout Cake (for Greg, and Greg only)

“The Dads Are Alright” Headcanon (parentlock/fluff)

221B pets

221B rules (written by @kitten-kin)

Fluffbruary 2022 Trivia Tuesdays: Week 01 . 02 . 03 . 04

~ BBC Sherlock: Rewatch Meta ~

ASiB ~ Why I Love Irene Adler So Much // THoB  ~ Pt. 1 - Beware of the Dog / Pt. 2 - Lights in the Darkness / Pt. 3 - Killing the Hound // TAB ~ Way Too Deep // TLD ~ The Morgue Scene: a look at the script // TFP ~ The Coffin Scene

~ BBC Sherlock: Character Meta ~  Molly Hooper has been done dirty (and I say this as a hardcore Johnlocker) // (mini-meta) John Watson, a man with issues: one and two

~ Good Omens Meta ~

Petronius' Oysters (a modest contribution to a post by @ineffablyruined)

When in Rome... - Aziraphale's Hot Girl Summer?

The Hundred Guineas Club (a modest contribution to a post by @niceprophecies)

Analogies with the Divine Comedy - Canto V (a modest contribution to a post by @theonevoice)

***

Italian language/culture 101 with Fluffsmut:

Good Omens x Michael Sheen x Ancient Rome - a match made in heaven Italy

The versatility of "cazzo"

"Sticazzi" vs "me cojoni"

Random stuff:  

Half-Assed Fic Recs

Martin Freeman Appreciation Posts

Random Thoughts: StartUp (TV show) // Ghost Stories (2017 film) // A List of Things Sherlock and Malcolm Bright (Prodigal Son) have in common

****

Jump back to FluffSmut's Masterlist

[xunandran]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Just a little bit from my Sci-Fi themed AU buddie fic tentatively titled 'Eddie and E.V.An.' Buck's a prototype android that is helping Eddie deal with being a single parent and a probationary firefighter. I haven't posted any of it yet, but I'm hoping to start getting some up soon! Enjoy and let me know if you'd like to be updated.

“Buck?” Eddie squinted at the clock on his end table. 3:17 a.m. Even in the darkness, he could see the android sitting on the side of the bed, facing the window. He sat up and reached for the lamp. “What are you doing in here?”  “You were exhibiting signs of a nightmare. I was attempting to soothe. Studies suggest soothing words can calm nightmares.” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “I-I don’t remember anything.” “The first alerting event occurred at 1:02 a.m. The perceived nightmare event was observed to run from 1:03 a.m. to 1:08 a.m. Rapid eye movements and involuntary muscle spasms decreased by 53 percent and 86 percent respectively beginning at 1:09 a.m.” Buck’s voice was quiet. “It’s past 3 a.m. though. If I had a nightmare at 1, why are you still here?” “You asked me to stay, Eddie.” Eddie didn’t remember that either. 

“That upsets you.” The android stood from the bed and walked toward the door. As with everything it did, its movements were precise, clinical. “What are you talking about? I’m not upset.” “Your breathing increased in volume by three decibels and your heart rate increased in speed and intensity.”   “Buck. Look at me.” The android complied, turning to face the bed. Eddie couldn’t help but smirk. In the warm lamplight, it almost looked petulant, its blue eyes cast in the shadows of its strong brow. Its head cocked as it did when it was processing inputs. “I’m not upset. I promise.” “Ocular movement patterns suggest that you are telling the truth.” “My words should be telling you that I’m telling the truth!” This was ridiculous. He was defending himself to what? An upgraded Alexa? A mobile Siri? Eddie pressed his palms to his face and groaned.   “I understand.” the android’s voice was clear and unaffected. “Would you like me to remove this task from my routines?” Eddie stared into those unmoving blue eyes, shaded like deep waters. With a swallow and a purse of his lips, he shook his head and moved to switch off the light. “That’s not necessary, Buck. Good night.”  “Good night, Eddie.” Buck quietly exited the room and pulled the door closed behind him. Eddie tucked himself back under his covers, plumped his pillow, and watched the LCD digits tick from 3:20 a.m. all the way to 5:45 a.m.

[randomheadcanons]

Darkest Timeline Mini Fic Ch. 1

Just wanted to play in space!! Idk how long it will be. 

we post like MEN

“That’s not fair,” Tally pouted as the race came to an end. The camera zoomed in on Guy’s winning Koopa as the rest of the Crew’s characters lamented at their loss. “ That’s like the 5th game in a row. Did you mess with the controllers?”

“I did take them apart,” Guy conceded, “but I put them back together exactly the way they were.” 

“Maybe you should just get good,” Justin suggested with a shrug, tossing some popcorn in her direction. Tally stuck her tongue out. 

“Yo,” Cat chided, before taking the piece off of the floor and popping it in her mouth. “I just vacuumed,” 

“Which you didn’t have to,” Guy assured, “We can clean our own apartment,” he said, gesturing to Justin, who nodded emphatically. To this, Cat shrugged. 

“I got bored,” she replied as Tally stretched and got to her feet before going into the kitchen. This scenario was not an unusual one in Justin and Guy’s apartment. With each of their jobs keeping them busy, the Crew had decided that it was important to have a standing hangout, which was on Tuesdays. Of course, something could come up, but each of them tried to make it a priority, and as often as possible. 

Ever since she moved out of the Lair, Tally found herself either there or here, in the boys’ apartment. She had to laugh at herself as she reached into the fridge for a soda; should she have even moved out in the first place? It was way cheaper to live with the turtles, and they were reluctant for her to go. And she was reluctant to leave. But Tally had told herself that it was something she needed to do, to ‘spread her wings’, or whatever. But going from the constant chaos of living with four people to suddenly living in a studio apartment by herself was…weird. Not unnerving, but weird. Maybe unnerving? But definitely weird. 

Tally was brought out of her reverie by a yelp from Guy and a bright flash of light emitting from the living room. 

“Did you blow up the TV?” she called, smile in her voice. 

“Get in here,” Cat called back urgently. “Now.” 

Tally immediately stood up straight and rounded the corner. 

What she saw was her friends, standing at the ready. Cat, narrowed expression, remote in hand, ready to strike. Guy, on the floor as if he had been pushed back with a force, staring. Justin, with a sword that he had likely hidden somewhere stupid, at the ready. And a woman, dressed in a blue spacesuit, with a helmet and cape. Her Jetsons-cosplay had little watches studded throughout, all at different times. Her hands were up and her eyes were very wide in a clear -please don’t murder me- type of way. Well, one hand was up, the other held a staff, equally as blue and vibrant. 

Just a regular Tuesday. 

“I’m not here to hurt you!” The woman chirped in a rush. “I need your help!” 

“Who are you?” Cat demanded, helping Guy up. 

“And why are you in our living room-” Justin started, sword up. 

“-dressed like a 50’s cosmonaut?” Guy finished. 

“I’ll explain everything I just need-” 

“Are you Renet?” Tally asked suddenly as she pieced it together. The woman, and the Crew, looked at Tally in bewilderment. 

“Yes!” The woman-Renet-beamed. 

“And who is Renet?” Justin asked, looking from Tally to the visitor. Tally shrugged. 

“I’m not really sure,” she supplied. “I just remember the guys used to talk about-” 

“The guys!” Renet squealed. “How is Mikey?” Tally blinked. “Uh, he’s good.” she paused. “But, evidently she’s a time wizard?” she finished, her sentence lilting up at the end, as if she was unsure. Because she was.

“A what?” Justin asked with a blink. 

“I prefer Timestress,” Renet interrupted. “But I’m still an apprentice so my actual title is-” 

“Shut up,” Cat snapped, turning back to Tally. “What did the guys talk about?” Tally shook her head, spreading her hands. “I dunno,” She continued. “It was something about a time wizard…different reality…timeline..thing? I’m not really sure. It happened before the guys and I met, but apparently there was a dragon-?” “Yes!” Renet interrupted again, “Drako.” The Crew turned back toward the blue Timestress, and she grimaced. She paused, looking at them. “Oh, would you like me to-” “Yes.” all four of them said at once. 

Renet took a breath and nodded. “Okay, so long story short. A few years ago, I sort of kind of lost the Time Scepter-or it was stolen rather-by this dragon named Drako who totally hates my guts. And he stole it because he is power mad and yadi-yada-yada. All of this to say the turtles got involved because of the Battle Nexus Championship and then Drako got really mad about that and vowed revenge so he blasted the turtles through time and space to different realities but they got back and defeated Drako and restored their-your-timeline. Mostly.” 

There was a pause. 

“Mostly?” Guy asked hesitantly. 

Renet sighed. “So the initial blast not only sent the guys into different realities and timelines but also left tears in a few others. So.” she continued, beginning to pace. She picked the popcorn bowl up off of the table and started speaking between bites. “Even though Drako is gone the tears were still left and Simultaneous-” “Who?” Justin cut off. 

“My boss.” Renet said with a dismissive hand. 

“Right, the Time Wizard.” Cat deadpanned. 

“Well he prefers Time Lord” Renet corrected. “But he got really mad obviously and put me on probation again which involved fixing the tears and I’m almost done but there is one that is still ripped.” “Ours, I’m assuming.” Tally groaned, rubbing her eyes. 

“But what’s that got to do with us?” Cat challenged, gesturing to the four of them. “Can’t you just wave your staff thing and fix it?”

“I have to be within so many feet of the target to send them back to their timeline.” 

“And who are you dealing with, exactly?” Justin asked. 

Another pause. 

“You guys,” Renet supplied. 

[mrskurono]

title: Sensible Sake || IBenimaru Shinmon x fem!Reader a/n: this anon gave me the best thirst in my entire life and now they get a fic and a kiss on the lips; fair warning I blacked out writing this and came back horny af word count: 2k tags: fem!Reader, alcohol consumption, everyone is very willing participants, pwp, grinding, groping, thigh/pussy job, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, light on the mommy kink, unedited character(s): Benimaru Shinmon (Fire Force) synopsis: Waka can’t handle his booze - based on this ask

Everyone in Asakusa could out drink Shinmon.

From the old woman down the street who constantly made too much daifuku. To even the newest greenhorns to Company Seven’s fire brigade. Even Konro on a Tuesday evening could drink more than Shinmon could ever hold.

This was to say poor Waka was the lightest drinker in Asakusa.

What was comfortably tipsy to you and Konro. Was nearly a passed out Shinmon in the living area of the barracks. You looked over at Konro as you sipped the last of your sake. Letting the lieutenant know it was getting close to getting the poor captain asleep.

“I stayed with him last time,” Konro shook his head, “It’s your turn.”

Lips on your drink you can’t help but roll your eyes with a smile, “Fine. But you have to get the mats.”

There was no argument there. Konro was more than happy to get the sleeping arrangements made up if it meant he got to go back and sleep in his own room. Not that you minded. A normally passed out Shinmon didn’t move much after he was ushered into bed. 

Which he was easy to get into bed. He never argued at least when he was like this and you and Konro got him laid down. Good nights were said. Leaving you alone with the captain curled up next to you on his mat. Nothing but the sliver of moonlight pouring in from the window overlooking the garden.

With his soft breathing beside you. It was easy to doze on and off. Swimming in a comfortably murky daze induced by the sake. Enjoying your quiet time when you felt something rub against your hip.

Eyebrow arching up. You roll over to find Shinmon having moved closer to you. His eyes still completely closed as he mumbled something in a slur.

“C’mere, you big baby,” You sigh with a smile as it was clear he was trying to snuggle up against the nearest warmth. 

Shinmon pressed his face against your breast. Close as he could get as the rest of him followed. Needy hands gripping fistfuls of your sides as you propped yourself up on your elbow. Mindless hands going through his soft black hair. You can’t help the smile living on your lips in your comfortable tipsy state as Shinmon rubs up against you.

“This happens every time you drink y’know?” You murmur in the quiet space between you.

“I know....’m just warm...” He mumbled against your breast. Nuzzling his face against your soft warmth as his hands roamed and traveled as they wanted. 

Touching down your side and grabbing your squishy sides. His hips moving on their own as he rubbed against you. Shinmon’s mass of black hair tucked close to your chest as you traced small circles through his hairline. Just letting the man give off the tiniest moans as he ground himself into you.

Again you sighed but it was all for show. The smile still sitting on your lips when you pulled your kimono aside. Allowing your breasts to spill from them and taking him no time to latch his mouth onto one of them. Shinmon’s free hand coming up to grope and massage the one he couldn’t also have in his mouth. 

“Waka-” You gasp softly, hand at the back of his head pulling him close as his tongue washes over your sensitive nipple and his other hand pulls gently at the other, “Mmm you know they’re sensitive when we drink.”

He moaned something inaudible against your breast. Didn’t matter what he would say as you just held him closer to you. Shinmon’s hips pressed against yours as you felt him grind his clothed hard on against your front. Gaining any friction he could between his robes and yours. A string of little mewls leaving his lips as he couldn’t be torn from your tits even for a second.

Turning better onto your side. Room spinning only slightly from your sake. You giggle as he switches breasts and lavishes the other in his warm tongue just as his hips rut against your thigh. Through a few fumbles and snickers and moans. It takes only a second before the front of both your robes are open and pushed to the side. Bare bodies against one another with skin soft and warm to the touch.

Attention entirely on his fixation. Shinmon can’t and won’t be moved from your breasts. Latched on as he nurses at them while his hips have another idea. All while his poor leaking cock prods against your thigh.

Adjusting a little. His cock goes from brushing against your upper leg. To being sandwiched between your thighs. A very clear improvement when the man groans against your tit. His cock slipping between your thighs as well as rubbing against your pussy as he tilts his hips up.

The top of his cock grinding along your cunt lips. Soaked from the attention and the alcohol in your system. Leaving the two of you extra sensitive when his hips begin to move on their own.

“Ah~ M-Mommy-” Shinmon groans against your boob.

“Shhh- Don’t wake anyone Waka.” You coo quietly to the man fucking himself between your thighs. Each swip of his cock between your legs making his length wetter with your juices. Making it even easier for his cock to grind against your throbbing clit as his length slips between your cunt lips, “F-Fuck Waka- Feels good-”

Back with his lips latched to your breast. He can’t be swayed from sucking on them. Tongue swirling around your hard bud and sucking as much into his mouth as he could. Shinmon moans muffled by your breast as his cock thrusts between your thighs. The warmth of your pussy right there but the drunk man far too into his movements to be able to tear himself away from it.

Cock head gliding against your aching clit. You can’t help but join in his movements. Rutting your hips to the motion of his thrusts. Feeling your juices coat not only his cock but also your thighs as Shinmon groans against your breast. Consumed in the ache that grinding on his cock leaves you with. It takes you a moment to register the warmth dripping down the back of your thigh and his movements stalling.

“Aww, Waka, did you cum?” You whisper as his cum drips down the back of your thigh and you can feel his dick throbbing between your thighs.

He nods with your tit still in his mouth. Eyes blissfully closed as his hair hangs heavy in his face. Moaning each time you move your hips and drag your cunt along his cock. 

Clearly not going away. And now covered in your juices and having your core riled up. There’s no real other option for the two of you.

Shinmon reluctantly lets go of your tit. Both of them hard as could be from his incessant attention. But as the man flops over onto his back. Cock standing at attention still with the glistening of your juices and his cum slathered all over him. You come up on top of him. Caging him between your arms and pinning him down with your hips. Both of your moan the second you grind yourself along the underside of his cock.

“Warm- Shit so warm-” Shinmon groans. Head tipped back as he grabs fistfuls of the futon under you both, “M-Mommy-”

“Wanna fuck me Waka?” Your words a little slurred as you keep grinding on him. Fighting the urge to sink down right away on his cock, “You wanna put your cock in me that bad huh?”

The captain nods. Almost desperately as he rolls his head back and ruts his hips up against yours. Feeling your hard clit along the underside of his cock. Already sensitive from cumming. But it won’t ruin how desperate he is. 

It’s hard to argue with both your needs. Lifting yourself up just a little bit. Reaching down best you can to position him at your entrance and not fall off. It’s the second his cock presses against your core is when you sit all your weight back down on his hips. Cock slipping inside you with ease and meeting with the flutter of your aching cunt in no time.

“Fuck- Waka-” You can’t help your nails dig into his chest as you rest comfortably on his hips. Savoring the feeling of his cock stretching you out and adjusting to him. Every single one of your nerve endings feeling ultra sensitive as he unknowing flexes his cock inside you. Sending a shiver right up your spine, “Ah fuck~”

Leaning down to catch his slightly parted lips on your own. What follows is the way his cock rubs against your insides as he threatens to pull out of you at this angle. Doing your best to grind back down on him as the two of you kiss. 

Sloppy as it is. Tasting like sake on both your lips. Shinmon groans into your lips as he can hardly focus enough to raise his hands and cup your face. Doing the same to hold him gently in your palms as the two of you kiss and grind on one another. His cock reaching deeper inside you until you have to have more.

Sitting back and feeling all of him slip back into you. Your core tightens around him, “Mmm needy baby.”

“Mommy more-” Shinmon slurs his moans as he reaches up to grab your tits.

Leaning forward and hands placed on his chest. His warm bare skin under your touch. Your laugh turns easily into a moan when you feel yourself moving on his cock. Hips staring on their own. Lazily bouncing and grinding yourself on his length. Shinmon’s moans bubbling up under you as you ride him.

The slight lewd noises of your skin slapping against his. No real rhythm to the way you bounce and grind yourself on his cock. Chasing the stomach tightening ache each time his cock hits your deepest parts. 

“Look at you....all hard for me, for mommy?” You manage between your moans. Watching with half lidded eyes as Shinmon looks like a beautiful fucked out mess under you, “Want mommy to cum?”

He nods. Almost desperately, “Please. Mommy- Please cum-”

 Even if he had said no. You weren’t sure you could stop it. The shudder in your core as your bouncing turned to grinding. His cock deep inside you as your clit grinded against his dark bush. Your hips having a mind of their own as your voice lost itself to the moans escaping you.

“Shit- Fuck Waka- Waka I’m cumming~” Lewd noises choked in your throat. Your hips shudder erratically on his. Your core tightening around his length as you rode out your orgasm above him. Clit throbbing as your couldn’t grind against him enough. Your back arching and breath stolen from your lungs as your orgasm overtook you.

Followed shortly by his deep groans below you. The friction too much even if he already came. Shinmon groaning desperately under you as his cock throbbed inside you. Another load. This time being left inside your quivering cunt instead of all over it. His cum seeping into your deepest parts as the two of your grinded against each other until nothing but your panting could be heard.

Sticky and breathing heavily. You looked down at the man under you. A blissful smile on his face that you couldn’t say no to. Slowly pulling off his length until you felt the first glob of cum leave you. Dripping back down onto his spent cock as you leaned forward and pressed your tits into his face.

Shinmon more than happy to take them back into his mouth. You relax on top of him and savor the warmth of not just the alcohol in your system now. His mouth latched to your tit and his cum leaking out of you in the mostly dim room. Shinmon’s  soft breath tickling your tit as you kissed his forehead and combed your fingers through his hair. 

Maybe for Konro’s sake, you’d take care of watching Waka every time the three of you drank. He was the lightest drink in all of Asakusa. It was only right of you to look after your captain. 

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

A while ago, I read a oneshot written by the absolutely incredible @engie-ivy titled Always Meant To Come Back (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618893)

They are genuinely one of my favourite wolfstar writers (a far cry from perfect is breaking me into millions of tiny pieces) and this oneshot in particular made me think a lot, particularly about the grieving process that I believe Remus went through during the years before Sirius came back. This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and I guess it’s a fanfic of a fanfic? I’ve decided to finally post my interpretation of everything Remus went through

The original fic has a very happy ending, so go and read it (because it’s incredible, and is also context for this) but this focuses specifically on Remus’ grief, so it doesn’t end in the same place

The context: Sirius left Hogwarts to try to talk Regulus out of being sworn in as a deatheater, and didn’t come back

CW: Major character “death”, panic attack, grief, implication of suicidal thoughts (very light)

A week passed. A week of worrying from the 3 marauders. A week of being unable to pay attention to classes. A week of McGonnagal apologising profusely for having no new updates about Sirius’ whereabouts. A week of concerned glances thrown at the group from the rest of the school.

Until it happened.

Remus had been scanning the Daily Prophet constantly, for some sign of Sirius.

They were pulled out of lesson, around midday on a Tuesday. All three of them, by a more than panicked McGonnagal.

James burst into sobs. Awful, heart wrenching, gut twisting sobs, that tore through his chest and echoed through the office. The sobs of the loss of a brother.

Peter was shaking. He didn’t know what to do with himself, where to go. He cried. Cried at the loss of a best friend. A family member.

Remus.

Remus was at a loss. Nothing but shock. Thick, foggy shock. There was no way.

He didn’t believe her. He couldn’t believe her, not if he wanted to keep going.

“No.” He shook his head, the only one or speak. “No, he- he can’t be, he isn’t, he’s not- he’s not- you’re wrong.“

“I’m so sorry, Remus.” Minerva herself was shaking, having lost a student who meant so much to her. “All accounts were identical.”

“Did you find him? His- his…”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Then how do we know? He can’t be- not Sirius.” His mind had fogged, he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

He tried to register everything. Everything he had just lost. A life of having someone he could really confide in, trust, love with every inch of him. A life with someone by his side, someone who loved him unconditionally, who put up with him at his worst, someone he could have a future with, grow old with, possibly even have kids with one day. Someone he could imagine spending the rest of his life with. His soulmate, his love, his ray of light, the one person that made everything bearable on those hard days. His Sirius.

It took a week. A week of worried glances. A week of no appetite. A week of hiding in a corner of the library to avoid the stares from other people. A week of going through the motions of life, hardly awake, nothing feeling real. 1 week for the grief to hit.

It was something so small that triggered it all. He was in the great hall, Lily watching him sympathetically, concerned, when someone walked past.

“Those are the boys who were friends with the Black heir before he died.” They tried to whisper, but they all heard it, and everything hit Remus in a tidal wave.

He stood up and left, falling apart as everything became real. He was gone. Remus was never going to see the love of his life again. No real goodbye, nothing. He had to learn to live without his soulmate.

He stumbled to the tree by the black lake, the tree he and Sirius had made so many memories by. Where Sirius nervously asked him out for the first time, and Remus kissed him in the rain. Where Remus told Sirius he loved him for the first time. Where Sirius tearfully revealed the truth about his home life, and Remus let him fall apart for the first time, and they really understood how safe they felt together.

He collapsed, a sob ripping through him, attacking him.

Everything that he had somehow kept at bay, the intense grief that felt like thousands of knives stabbing him in the chest, over and over, choking him, stealing the air from his lungs and the light from his eyes finally had its grip around him.

He didn’t hear anybody follow him. It was only when arms wrapped around him, and Mary’s voice rang out, that he realised she was there at all.

“Remus, breathe.”

“He’s actually gone.” Remus sobbed, his heart being ripped out as reality came crashing down on him.

Everything had sunk in, and he almost wished it hadn’t. So Mary held him while he cried, letting him release every tear that hadn’t yet been shed for Sirius.

Remus started disappearing from lessons, spending full days in bed, shutting his eyes and trying to silence the pain in his head.

His parents had been contacted when it had first happened, and he had declined the offer to go home early at the time, not thinking straight, but eventually McGonnagal didn’t give him the choice, and he was sent back to the Welsh countryside to be swallowed up by the intense loneliness that had enveloped him.

He talked to James about it. Only James. James was the only one who felt the same overwhelming grief. The only one who knew him as well as Remus did. They were there for each other. Remus helped James through a series of panic attacks, grounding him, supporting him, and James helped Remus take care of himself, reminding him to eat, talking to him, anything he needed.

His parents tried. They tried so hard, but they couldn’t understand. They didn’t know what it felt like to have your soul ripped out of you at such a young age. Nothing seemed to ease the depression that had seeped into him.

The love of his life had been killed by Deatheaters, and there was a war going on. A war that they were going to fight in. The war had taken Sirius before it had even properly begun, and they were ready to fight.

The funeral felt impossible. Remus spoke.

Standing up in front of everyone was awful, all pitying gazes or grief stricken faces, but he had to do it. He had to do it for Sirius.

“You know, if he were here, he’d probably tell me I didn’t have to do this, because he knew how much I hated public speaking.” He smiled a little, tears shining in his eyes. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss him. That I don’t dream about him, or hear his voice. It’s- he impacted so many of us, in so many ways. He’s the love of my life. Always will be. I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t think I can- I can’t say anything else.” His voice broke, and he went back to his seat, Hope wrapping an arm around him, as he rested his head on her shoulder and cried.

They went through Sirius’ things around a week later. Remus and Peter went to the Potter’s manor for it. They told stories, remembered. It was nice. Upsetting, but nice.

Until they got to the bottom of Sirius’ trunk. Remus pulled out a small velvet box and a folded piece of parchment. He frowned, confused, as he unfolded the note.

I know we’re young, but I know you’re the person I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with

I never thought I would be so lucky to fall in love with my best friend, but

Moons, I love you. We’re leaving Hogwarts, and I want to spend every moment of my life with you, especially with the war

Remus dropped the note, opening the box with shaking hands. There it was. A ring. It looked like silver, but as Remus pulled it out gently, he knew Sirius had taken his lycanthropy into account, and it was something that simply gave the impression of silver. It was studded with amber diamonds and had both the Canis Major and Lupin constellations engraved inside.

“Was he going to…?”

“I- I didn’t want to say anything. Not after… that.”

“Merlin, I-“ he couldn’t help the tears that fell, as James wrapped an arm around him. “He was- I could have-“

“I’m so sorry Remus.” James said, tears falling down his cheeks.

“I can’t live without him, Prongs.”

He wore the ring. Nobody said anything. Everybody understood why. Remus was always going to be Sirius’. He had been taken from Remus before they’d had a chance to build their lives together, and nothing could change the love he felt for Sirius, and always would feel for Sirius. The pain didn’t leave him, didn’t give him relief. It trapped him, attacking him.

Some days it was slightly easier. The days when he threw himself headfirst into dangerous missions, or was distracted by his friends.

Then there were the days he couldn’t get out of bed. When someone would absentmindedly call him Rem, or he would find an old photo of the two of them. The days when the same overwhelming pain would drive it’s way into him.

Hope usually didn’t see him on those days, knowing he liked to be alone, but she tried check in on him.

“Remus? How are you feeling lovely?” Remus could hear her footsteps, listening to her sit on the edge of the bed. He didn’t speak at first, he simply sat up and hugged her.

“I miss him so much.” He forced out, his breath coming in short bursts. “How- how am I supposed to move on?”

“You don’t have to yet. You need time.”

“I just want him back.” He sobbed, shaking, finally saying the things he had kept in his mind, circulating, torturing him since it had happened. “I just want to tell him I love him. I want to do everything again. The good and the bad. Everything.” His voice was raw as he cried.

She couldn’t understand what he was going through. She didn’t know how to stop the all consuming grief when it was at its worst, and Remus knew that she felt guilty for not being able to help him more.

Full moons were bad before, but they had only gotten worse. He usually went to the Potter’s for them, James and Peter still transforming to help him, but they barely spoke after the moons. They were too used to Sirius being there. It just felt wrong without him. Even the wolf seemed to notice the gaping hole in their group.

The 1 year anniversary after it had happened was one of the harder days. He spent most of the day alone, in the dark, trying to hold himself together, without the 1 person who could have made it all bearable.

He only forced himself up when there was a knock at the door, immediately met with his friends holding some sort of takeaway.

“Uh… hi.” He said, slightly unsure, as they all let themselves in. “Come in?” He said sarcastically, as James set the food on the counter.

“We’re having a night in!” Mary said lightly, as James rooted through Remus’ cupboards.

“Christ, Moony, where do you keep your plates? It’s like a bloody maze.” He muttered.

“Um, in that cupboard there.” He walked over and took them out for James.

They spent the evening together, and it made it all a little easier.

His friends were his lifeline. They had all experienced the loss of a family member. They were there to pick up the pieces for each other, and Remus would never be able to express his gratitude to them. They were each other’s support system.

Somehow, the conversation was turned to Sirius. One of them made a throwaway comment, not thinking, and they all went silent. Remus could hear his heart beating heavily, and he closed his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control.

“Remus…” Lily started, and Remus felt a tear fall, followed quickly by another as he dropped his head into his hands, shaking. “Oh, Remus…” She wrapped an arm around him.

“It’s just- it’s still so hard, why- why hasn’t it gotten any easier?” Nobody said anything. Nobody knew. They had all lost Sirius, but none of them knew how it felt to lose your soulmate in the way Remus had. “I don’t want- I don’t want to hurt anymore. I just want it to stop, I don’t want to constantly feel like my heart’s being ripped out my chest, like- like a piece of me went with him.” He spoke in between heavy sobs, and Mary stepped in quickly.

“You know, he was the most helpful student in Hogwarts. I always saw him showing the first years around, or defending them from Mulciber and his gang. He wasn’t even a prefect.” She said fondly.

“Even I had to admire his prank ideas.” Lily added. “I was head girl, but I really couldn’t bring myself to give him detention. His ideas were too interesting.”

“He was so considerate. I mean, I watched him listen to so many upset and stressed students, even people he barely knew, because he was worried about them.” Peter spoke quietly, tentatively, not wanting to make the situation worse accidentally.

They quickly spun the conversation to reminiscing, and the pain in Remus’ chest got a little lighter, and he regained the smallest amount of hope that he could have control over his life again.

Years passed. It was a struggle. He barely made it through the bad days. The days when something would remind him of the love of his life. His soulmate. The days when he would recklessly endanger his life on a mission to try and ease the mind numbing pain just a little.

But he did it. He made it through, with his friends by his side. As impossible as it seemed to him, he survived.

It is a very busy set of ideas, because I had so much I wanted to explore that I wasn’t sure how to go about, and I’m not brilliant at writing angst because it hurts my soul, but it turned out way better than I expected, and I hope you liked it!

[helaintoloki]

Everybody Loves Somebody

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: slight language, themes of insecurity, angst, pining, slow burn (kinda?), eventual fluff, over 5k words in length

notes: it’s finally finished! this took forever but I swear I put my entire soul into making this as perfect as it could be. I’ve never used this format before in my writing and it was challenging but also super fun so hopefully you guys like it :) (also yes the title and the fic somewhat is inspired by the Dean Martin song)

summary: Thrown into a blind date against his will, Bucky does his best to prepare in the days leading up to Saturday night, a feat that proves to be much more difficult than expected thanks to his neighbor across the hall.

Sunday

Three quick raps on the apartment door force Bucky to kick back the covers and sluggishly rise from his spot on the floor. He’s exhausted, but his recognition of the evenly spaced knocks on the wooden frame has him feeling compelled to answer, and so he does. Too tired to notice the television is still droning on in the background, Bucky idly wraps his discarded blanket around his form to shield his vibranium arm before opening the door to greet the old man standing on the other side.

“Rough night, huh?” Yori greets with a knowing smile.

“Something like that,” he replies with a tired, lopsided grin. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I set you up on a date,” the man says casually, as if setting Bucky up on dates without his knowledge and against his will is a common every day occurrence, and it is. “Saturday evening at six.”

“What— A date? Yori—“

“She’s a nice girl, very pretty. I think you’ll like her.”

“Now hang on a minute,” Bucky tries to interject, but Yori is already halfway down the hall before the super soldier can get another word in.

“You’re meeting her at the Italian place down the street!” Yori calls behind him. “She likes sunflowers!”

The old man’s shouts are sure to have woken up the entire fourth floor by now, but Bucky is too busy trying to process the jumble of information that has been thrust upon him so suddenly and so early in the morning to care. The last date Yori had sent him on had ended in disaster; Bucky wasn’t ready to get back out on the field, a stable relationship wasn’t in the cards for him. Surely no one in their right mind would stick around once they found out the truth about the man, and if they did it would only be a matter of time before the constant nightmares and extra baggage that came with dating the ex-Hydra assassin sent them running for the hills. But Yori meant well, Bucky knew that, and he also knew he owed the man more than he could ever give him in return, so if sitting through another painfully uncomfortable date would make him happy, then Bucky would just have to suck it up, put on the nicest shirt he owned, and charm his way through another awkward dinner.

“Sunflowers,” he grumbles to himself, quietly shutting the door before returning to his spot on the cold hardwood floor.

Monday

Monday mornings are gym mornings, early workouts that start at five and end at seven. He promptly returns to the apartment building at seven thirty, eight if he stops for breakfast, then goes to check the mail before heading back to the comfort of his sheltered apartment. He doesn’t receive much other than grocery coupons and an odd letter from the government every now and then, but he’s been told that a routine is good, it’s healthy, so on Monday mornings at seven thirty—or eight— Bucky pulls out his keys and opens his assigned metal box with a sense of indifference.

It’s eight o’clock on this particular morning, and with a half finished cup of coffee in hand the soldier opens the little metal compartment to find nothing other than stray specks of dust and the tiniest of spiderwebs in the top right corner of the box. It’s a familiar sight, but Bucky has learned not to let it bother him by now. Remember James, it has nothing to do with you, his therapist always said. You have to learn not to take things personally.

“It has nothing to do with me,” Bucky murmurs quietly before finally shutting his mailbox with a sigh. Coffee cup discarded in the nearby trash can, Bucky turns to make his trek towards the elevator only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of a beautifully familiar face.

Your name is y/n, you live on the fourth floor, and for someone reason you’re always covered in glitter. You’re on your way out the door, art supplies held clumsily in your grasp just begging to jump free from your hold, and despite the rush you seem to be in you still greet the man with a polite smile.

“Good morning,” you chime, honey coated voice filled with warmth and kindness for the stranger. Bucky simply gives you a halfhearted smile in return, watching you walk out the door and wishing he could just muster up the courage to speak to you.

You won the soldier’s heart the day you knocked on his door to drop off a “welcome to the neighborhood” casserole. It had only been his second day in his new apartment, and while he knew some of the other tenants were weary of the mysterious man with the thousand yard stare who had decided to call the building a home, you never once seemed to bat an eye at Bucky or his closed off nature. He had been a little short with you upon your first meeting, his anxiety coming off as annoyance, but still you wore that same kind smile of yours and assured him that if he ever needed anything you’d be happy to help. You were a kind person with a big heart, and Bucky didn’t want to chance snuffing out one of the few lights left in the world, so he let you be. Admiring you from afar was all he let himself have of you, and that was it.

Though, Bucky would be lying if he said you didn’t come across his mind every once in a while. He wondered what you were like, what music you listened to, how you liked your eggs in the morning, if you were an old soul or young at heart, if you’d ever let yourself fall into in the arms of a broken man and help pick up the pieces. It was a pipe dream, but sometimes a friendly smile from you in the morning was enough to get Bucky through an entire day. He hadn’t been with anyone in years, and while he didn’t think he was ready to get back out on the dating scene just yet he knew that if you asked him to he’d take the plunge in a heartbeat. You were an angel, and Bucky would never be able to bring himself to taint you with his touch.

Monday mornings are workout mornings, but they’re also mornings with you.

Tuesday

On Tuesday afternoons Bucky often finds himself in the company of Yori, ensuring the old man stays out of trouble and going out of his way to make sure his newest friend has a nice day out on the town. It isn’t much, and it never will be, but it’s enough for now, at least until Bucky can find the courage to tell the father just what exactly happened to his son on that fateful night. But until then, sushi for lunch will have to do.

He makes his usual trek to the man’s apartment, stomach already beginning to rumble at the prospect of a nice crunch roll, but Bucky’s hunger is soon replaced with nerves at the sight of the woman standing in Yori’s doorway.

You look pretty today, hair haphazardly styled in your rush out the door this morning, colorful stains of dry paint adoring your hands that clutch a bundle of books close to your chest, and a dangly pair of earrings that glint underneath the sunlight pouring through the hallway windows. There’s a smile on your face as you nod along to something Yori says that doesn’t quite register in the soldier’s jumbled thoughts, and the two of you are both too engrossed to notice his lingering presence standing just a few feet away.

“Thank you so much for lending me these. The kids keep me on my toes and I haven’t had any time to settle down with a good book so these were perfect,” you utter gratefully, handing off the pile of poetry books to Yori’s awaiting hands. Names of authors that Bucky doesn’t recognize catch his eye, just as his friend finally catches his presence.

“Of course. I have more if you’re ever interested,” he says before finally addressing the elephant in the hallway. “James, there you are. I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”

Bucky stiffens at the sound of his name, heat immediately crawling up his neck as you turn to him with a friendly smile. Clearing his throat, he steps forward and musters up a meager grin in return.

“Like I’d ever miss Tuesday lunch,” he jokes, a nervous chuckle falling past his lips.

“I guess I better get going. Thank you again, Yori,” you chime with a grateful smile. Then, with your attention turned to Bucky, “Have a nice lunch, James.”

“Thank you...” he trails quietly, mentally kicking himself for his stiff demeanor and wishing he could be less pathetic in your presence just once. Just once and he’d die a happy man.

You leave with a polite smile, turning down the hallway and out of Bucky’s grasp once again. Yori elbows his side.

“She’s single, you know.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Bucky replies with a wry chuckle. “You have me set up with one girl already.”

“Right,” Yori notes thoughtfully with a knowing smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes that Bucky can’t quite decipher. “I think you’re going to have a nice time on your date.”

“We’ll see,” is all he says in reply, your smile the only thing on his mind as the two men head out for the day.

Wednesday

Bucky has grown to love rainy days, days in which he can remain tucked away in the warmth and comfort of his own home with a relaxing mug of hot chocolate in one hand and some piece of pop culture media he has yet to catch up with in the other. Today’s pick is a book titled The Outsiders, and Bucky chooses to sit upon the windowsill to read the novel.

Gentle drops of rain trail down the glass window, pattering soothingly in a way that makes Bucky fear he may fall asleep. He sets the book aside with a tired sigh and glances out the window with his warm cheek pressed against the cool surface; the city is quiet and the streets nearly empty, and this makes it easier to spot you.

It’s almost as if you’ve been popping up out of nowhere lately, but Bucky never seems to mind. Watch from afar, that was the deal he made with himself, so who was he to complain if you made the task easier for him? He could never have you the way he wanted to because he doubted you’d ever want an unstable old man like him, and even if you did he’d be no good for you. He knew girls like you back in his day, girls with stars in their eyes and hearts on their sleeves, girls who’d melt in his arms whenever he so much as smiled at them. And yet you weren’t like any girl he’d ever seen; you were an enigma and he wanted nothing more than to spend all of eternity deciphering the mystery of you. But he couldn’t, because he shouldn’t, so he didn’t.

Despite the gloomy gray skies hanging above you there’s a serene smile on your face as you stop to admire the pots of sunflowers outside the building, reminding Bucky he has to buy some for his date on Saturday. God, he was dreading it. Bucky was sure whatever girl Yori picked for him would be nice enough, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes wish it were you he’d be taking out for a night on the town. A guy can dream, right?

You retreat into a nearby coffee shop when the rain begins to fall harder, and as Bucky turns to his own warm drink he finds that the mug is now cold. Book discarded, he rises from his spot on the windowsill and drowsily drags himself into the kitchen for another cup.

For a moment he thinks sunflowers might surely bring about his demise, and the passing thought brings the smallest of smiles to his face. Only time will tell.

Thursday

“How are you feeling about your date on Saturday?”

The woman stares at him expectantly, pristine notepad resting casually in her lap, pen in hand as a warning, eyebrows raised at the man as he stares down contemplatively at the stitching of his leather gloves. What should be a comforting environment instead only seems to put him on edge, and as the seconds tick by on the clock hung crookedly above the doorway her pen only seems to get closer to the blank page below her. Shoulders sagging, Bucky can only offer a small sigh in response.

“I can’t say I feel too great about it,” he finally says, the tension in his shoulders alleviating slightly as she finally puts the pen down.

“And why’s that?” Doctor Raynor prods curiously.

“I just don’t really think I’m all that ready for a relationship. What person wants to be with someone as screwed up as me?”

“The right person will,” Christina comforts. Your smiling face flashes briefly in his mind in response and he shifts in discomfort— the doctor notices. “But I don’t think you’re telling me the full story here, James. I suspect there’s something else that’s holding you back. Or maybe someone.”

“That obvious, huh?” Bucky retorts with a wry smile.

“Who’s the lucky person?”

“Her name’s y/n,” he says, your name falling past his lips in the softest tone Dr. Raynor has ever heard from him before. “I don’t know her all that well, but she lives in my apartment building so I see her around a lot. She’s... she’s really pretty.”

“Well, what is it about y/n that you like?”

Geez, where do I even begin?

“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugs, picking absently at a loose seam on the end of his shirt, “I guess I like how friendly she is. Every time I see her she’s always smiling, she always says good morning to everyone and lends a hand wherever she can. It’s like she goes out of her way to be nice to me, and I’m not really used to that but it’s a nice feeling. The first time I met her she never even flinched, she wasn’t scared like other people usually are, and even when I blew her off she still made it clear that I was welcome and if I needed a friend she’d be there. That’s the kind of person she is.”

“Did you take her up on that offer?” The woman asks, but by the look on her face Bucky is sure she already knows the answer.

“No...”

“James, we’ve talked about this,” Christina says firmly, “you have to stop closing yourself off from the people around you. Making a friend could really help you, especially if this girl is truly as nice as you say she is.”

“She is,” he reiterates firmly, “and that’s why I can’t be her friend.”

The doctor’s brows furrow with piqued interest at his admission, legs shifting underneath her as she gets comfortable in preparation for what will most likely be a heavy confession. “Can you elaborate for me?” She says. Bucky sighs.

“After everything that’s happened, and everything the world has been through, it just gets harder and harder to find some sort of light in the dark. So when you finally do find it, it’s like you have to do everything in your power to make sure it never goes out.”

“So y/n is a light?” Raynor reaffirms.

“For so many people,” Bucky nods, “and if I try to put myself in the picture I’ll only bring her down. There’s no future with me, and she deserves better than that.”

“How do you know that if you never put yourself out there?” The doctor asks softly, silently stunned by the heavy confession Bucky has entrusted her with; it’s the most he’s ever opened up before.

Pieces of the past dart through his mind, and in the midst of all the heartache and the chaos he sees Yori, the one friendship he’s been able to successfully maintain since his period of healing. The memory of the man is pleasant for a moment, until Bucky is reminded of the basis of their friendship and how one single confession will tear down everything they’ve built together. It doesn’t matter what kind of man he is now or how much control he has over his own life, the Winter Soldier will always have the final say, and nothing will ever change that. Finally, he speaks.

“I just do.”

Friday

“Crap.”

The softly uttered curse sounds from across the hallway and alerts Bucky of his struggling neighbor’s presence. Purse slipping off your shoulder and heavy groceries spilling from your arms, you struggle to maneuver your key into the lock of your front door all while the heat of embarrassment engulfs your body in a suffocating hold. You’re not as put together as you usually are, your belongings in disarray and eyes full of exhaustion rivaling that of his own, your usually meticulously picked clothing replaced by joggers and an old college sweatshirt that’s three sizes too big on you, and yet Bucky still finds himself frozen in your presence.

Don’t just stand there, help her you idiot, his mind screams at him, the soldier harshly swallowing down his nerves before taking shaky steps towards you. An orange slips out of the brown paper bag and rolls towards his feet, and Bucky takes it as his in into a conversation.

“Need some help?” He asks with a crooked smile, one that softens at the look of distress clear in your eyes as you meet his gaze.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” you breathe out before offering a meager smile of your own. “Some help would be great, thank you.”

Bucky takes the heavier bags of groceries from your aching arms and returns the orange to its rightful place, allowing you the chance to take your keys and unlock the door. You don’t spare him another glance as you walk in, leaving it open as a silent invitation for him to let himself in. Bucky swallows nervously but wordlessly follows behind; he’s never been in a woman’s apartment before, and the fact that it’s yours makes the experience all the more nerve wracking.

Your apartment is small but personalized, decorated with little knickknacks and houseplants and old family portraits that Bucky does his best not to stare at in fear of being rude, and the vanilla scented candle that burns on the coffee table makes him feel all the more welcome. You drop your purse by the couch with a tired sigh before directing your attention to the man who stands awkwardly in your living room. His hulking figure makes your apartment seem tiny, oddly comforting in a way, but you hold back your giggles and merely guide him to your kitchen.

“You can set them on the counter,” you say with a passive wave before reaching into one of the cabinets for a glass cup. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No, thank you,” the man says politely as he settles the heavy bags down on the marble surface; as much as he’d like to sit and spend the evening with you, he can’t stay long, or more like he won’t allow himself to stay long. Your movements are clumsy as you down your glass of water, and Bucky looks away flustered as little droplets begin to escape the corners of your lips and dribble down your neck. “I hope I’m not overstepping by asking this, but are you alright? You seem a bit... flustered.”

“Is it that obvious?” You joke quietly, your smile barely reaching your eyes as you fidget with the sleeves of your sweater.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky begins to say in fear of overstepping, but you merely shake your head in response.

“I’m just a little stressed out. The kids always keep me on my toes, especially now that there’s more of them, and it’s been hard trying to get some of them to readjust.”

“Kids?” He repeats with furrowed brows. He can’t recall ever seeing you with any children, and there’s no sign of any living with you in your apartment. A genuine laugh leaves your lips this time at his response and Bucky tenses uncomfortably. Did he say something wrong?

“I’m a kindergarten teacher,” you explain with a smile, and everything clicks in Bucky’s mind then. That would explain the constant paint stains and trails of glitter left in your wake, the arts and crafts supplies and stacks of drawings you seem to carry with you everywhere. And here he thought your heart couldn’t get any bigger than it already was— were you even real?

“The effects of the blip have been really difficult for them. It’s hard having to come back to school and see that all your old friends are now five grades ahead of you. I know everyone has been impacted in some way by what happened, but it’s harder for the younger ones to understand. I’m doing my best to make the transition back to normalcy easier for them, but some days are harder than others, you know?”

“Sounds rough,” is all Bucky can manage to say, swallowing his emotions back harshly.

“Yeah,” you sigh quietly, rubbing away the clear exhaustion in your eyes, “but I’m trying my best.”

“Sometimes that’s all you can do.”

You smile then, a genuine smile, one that makes Bucky weak in the knees, and suddenly it’s as if all the weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.

“I really needed to hear that,” you utter softly, “thank you.”

“What are neighbors for?” Bucky jokes lamely, but you must like his sense of humor for you let out the quietest of giggles.

“You’re sweet. I like talking with you, but I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you’re a busy guy.”

“Not really,” he shrugs with a crooked smile, “I just had some errands to run before tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” You ask curiously, brows raising with interest as Bucky awkwardly looks down at your hardwood floor.

“I’ve got a date.”

“Huh, no kidding. Me too,” you smile, and in response Bucky’s heart slowly begins to sink to his stomach. Yori had said you were single, but only an idiot would believe that someone like you could stay that way for long. Maybe if he had taken the doctor’s advice sooner he could be the one you’re seeing instead of the lucky guy that beat him to it.

“I should get going... I’ll see you around.”

“Thank you again for the help, and good luck on your date,” you say with an encouraging smile. Bucky swallows harshly in response, a look of longing in his eyes that he hides well with a meager quirk of his lips.

“You too,” he murmurs in response, casting you once last glance before showing himself out. The lock clicks behind him, and Bucky trudges back to his own empty apartment.

Saturday

The dining patio of the Italian restaurant is pleasantly empty, but the quiet stillness does little to help soothe Bucky’s nerves as he waits for the arrival of his date. He probably should have asked Yori what she looked like, what her name was and what she’d be wearing so he’d know what to expect, but the old man had been adamant on keeping the identity of his date a surprise.

“It’ll be better that way,” he had said, “trust me.”

The bouquet of sunflowers sits before him on the table almost tauntingly, their bright colors and sweet scent sending his senses into overdrive. He almost resented them, but then he thought of your smiling face through the window and the tension from his shoulders began to dissipate— if you could be strong and put on a brave face despite all the bad things that had happened in the world, then so could he.

“James?” A meek voice calls quietly, pulling the man from his thoughts. His blue eyes widen in surprise at the sight of the woman standing before him and he swallows anxiously.

“Y/n?” Bucky replies, quickly rising from his seat and cringing at the way in which the legs of the chair scrape harshly across the floor with his sudden movements. Here he thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful, and here you were proving him wrong with your cute little outfit and styled hair and charming smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my date,” you explain with a sheepish smile. Bucky deflates— not only would he have to suffer through his own painfully awkward date, but he’d also have to sit and watch you get swept off your feet by someone else all in the same night.

“Oh... well, who’s the lucky guy?”

“That’s the thing,” you say with a nervous laugh, “I think you are.”

“Me?” Bucky repeats flabbergasted. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Yori was the one who said I should try dating again. He thought it would be good for me to spend some time with other adults since I’m always with my students, and when I said I didn’t really know anyone he told me he’d take care of it for me. All he told me was to come to this restaurant Saturday at six and look for the man with sunflowers,” you summarize before gesturing to the bouquet on the table, “and you’re the only one here with sunflowers so...”

A disbelieving laugh leaves Bucky then at the realization, and he isn’t sure whether he should jump for joy or wait for the ground below to swallow him whole. Finally he had a chance to spend time with the girl who had taken over his thoughts and occupied every available space in his heart, and yet he couldn’t help but feel terrified. A date was a big step up from neighborly conversation in your apartment, and all of Bucky’s hopes of developing something more with you were riding on this one date. Yori knew exactly what he was doing by setting the two of you up, and Bucky had no choice but to be grateful for the man who had bestowed upon him the chance to finally win you over.

“If this is too awkward for you we can just skip this whole date—“

“No, it’s not awkward at all,” Bucky is quick to interject. “I mean, this whole thing is certainly a surprise but it’s a good one. It’s an honor to be your blind date.”

He flashes a charming smile that makes you weak in the knees, and he knows then that he’s back in the game— who would have guessed he’d be able to dust off his old moves with such ease? He had to if he wanted any kind of chance at winning you over.

“In that case, why don’t we get out of here? This restaurant is a little stuffy,” you note with a small chuckle, your nerves slowly beginning to dwindle.

“Alright, what do you have in mind?”

The nightlife atmosphere of the plaza square is surprisingly much more comfortable compared to the dining patio, and Bucky considers himself the luckiest man alive to be able to witness firsthand the way your eyes seem to sparkle with the light of the starry sky. A nighttime stroll is right up Bucky’s alley, and you both fall into a comfortable step as you talk about whatever topic seems to come to mind. You speak of your students, about how much their smiling little faces have helped you get through the toughest times, how there’s a stray cat who calls the dumpsters behind your apartment building a home and waits for your arrival on trash days because you always bring the feline a special treat. Alpine, you had named it, and Bucky adored that greatly.

The details are vague but you enjoy the stories he tells you of his childhood and the way his whole face seems to light up at the mere mention of his mother and sister; that look dwindles slightly when he speaks of his old best friend, but you pretend not to notice. As a younger man Bucky worked at the docks before serving time in the army, though he fails to mention where he’d been stationed, and now he works for the government. You feel almost giddy to be learning so much about the man you once believed would rather prefer solitude over your company, and as the night drags on and the conversation begins to dwindle you almost wish you could reverse the clock and do it all over again.

“Thank you,” Bucky says after a moment of silence, prompting you to halt your steps and raise a brow curiously at your counterpart.

"What for?"

“Taking a chance on a guy like me,” he smiles faintly while offering you a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. “I haven’t really done anything like this in a while, and the idea of putting myself back out there scared me shitless, but you just make things so much easier. I guess what I’m trying to say is when I’m with you everything comes naturally, and I really appreciate that.”

“Oh,” you utter softly, a sheepish smile of your own gracing your lips as you turn away to admire the scenery around you. It isn’t until now that you notice you’ve stopped before the fountain, the arches of water flowing overhead illuminated by the fluorescent lights below them. A nervous fluttering occupies your stomach and when you finally meet Bucky’s gaze you feel as if nothing else in the entire world mattress other than the two of you in this moment. “Well, if it makes you feel any better I’m kind of in the same boat, so that just means we can figure this out as we go. Together.”

“I like that,” Bucky affirms with a nod, a look that can only be described as lovestruck taking over his features. Nerves overcome you then as you clutch your bouquet of flowers to your chest, heart thrumming rapidly in your rib cage as Bucky steps closer. The glove that had once shielded his right hand from the cold is now missing as he gently cups your cheek and encompasses you with his warmth. His palm is calloused and rough but comforting all the same, and it takes everything in your power not to melt like putty in his grasp.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs quietly as if raising his voice any higher will ruin the moment.

“Yeah,” you breathe shakily, swallowing back your nerves, “it’s okay.”

Your softly uttered words of confirmation are all Bucky needs to hear before dipping down and gently brushing his lips against your own. His movements are hesitant for only a moment, and it is only once he’s sure you are comfortable and secure that he moves in for more. Your lips are soft against his own, plush and warm and so sweet, and as your eyes begin to flutter shut and the forgotten sunflowers slip out of your grasp you drape your arms securely across his shoulders at the same moment in which his left hand joins his right in cupping your face as if you were a precious jewel in need of the upmost care.

Nothing exists when you are in each other’s arms, you are safe and sound in your own little world, and as you part to take a breath Bucky realizes then that one kiss is all he needs to know that you are the one he’s been waiting for all his life.

And by god, if you aren’t more than worth the wait.

[babesonly]

fic recs 2.0!

hello kings (gn) ive got significantly more fic than last time which means this is gonna be a little more organized than the last post bc it is much longer <3 categories in order are non casefic canonverse, casefic/roadtrip fic, finale fixits, endverse, non supernatural aus, and then non destiel ones. titles will be in bold for my favs! also within each category they’re in order from shortest to longest

Canonverse

I’m a tulip in a cup by godtiering (1.2k)

I worry that I never really came back from hell. I wonder why, if I got remade by heaven, I’m still the same screwed up kid that I always was.

Sometimes I worry I’m not into women at all.

"Guess not,” he looks at his shoes.

a REALLY good fic that’s basically just a look inside dean’s head during my bloody valentine do not read this looking for a fun time but please do read it

on vessels by flightsofangels (1.9k)

“You know,” Cas mutters into Dean’s bare skin. “When I was still… an angel, I used to dream that I would take you as my vessel.”

hello consumehimnatural fans!!!!! read newt’s fic right now its incredible

dean winchester is not a nicholas sparks protagonist by microcomets (1.9k)

Dean fell in love with Cas the way you fall asleep--slowly, and then all at once. Or some other hackneyed and trite bullshit. God, this is embarrassing.

dean is in LOVE. he’s also a disaster who keeps staring at cas’ hands. sigh

Stay by aeli_kindara (2.5k)

Coda to 13.06 (Tombstone). In which Castiel reckons with the aftermath of Dean's grief.

hello fellow widow arc fans <3 click here to see cas find out abt the events of advanced thanatology !

walking on a string by swordfishtrombones (2.7k)

Between the doomed offensive at the Firmament and the impending retreat from the ravaged northeast border, Castiel left camp long enough to answer one of Dean Winchester's prayers.

S6 DEAN IS A WAR WIFE. been really into early seasons deancas lately and this one is very good. god

the flesh of the mighty by Mudprophet (2.7k)

Ezekiel 39:17 "you shall eat the flesh of the mighty and drink the blood of the princes of the earth."

MY GOD. anyone who saw the @autisticandroids​ purgatory cannibalism talk and was interested read this right now. also anyone who enjoyed nbc hannibal OR raw (2016). if romantic cannibalism is remotely aligned with your interests read this right now. god

Sam Winchester, Ally At Law by alittleduck (3.3k)

Sam was pretty sure he could read every single gay friendly guide to coming out or supporting queer family members ever written and literally none of them would even imply that arguing with gay people that they were actually just homophobic constituted as "ally behavior". However, Sam was equally sure that none of those book authors had found themselves accidentally watching their brother get pounded by an Angel of the Lord at 9 am on Tuesday, so Sam was pretty sure he might actually still have the higher ground. Now, if only Jack would stop trying to bond with Dean using gay slurs long enough for Sam to convince everyone of that, he might just be able to cobble together some remnant of sanity or, failing that, dignity.

Or, the one where Sam desperately wants to invent PFLAG but Dean won't stop teaching Jack gay slurs

JACK VOICE HEY COCKSUCKERS. 

hummed low by microcomets (3.3k)

Dean pulls the Impala over at a cider barn about thirty miles out; doesn't really think about it, just sees the hokey orange lettering off the roadside and lets his hands guide the Impala off the interstate with gravel spitting under the wheels.

they get a nice day out together and dean has a gay crisis and it’s written beautifully mwah

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi (3.9k)

In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything.

sometimes i think about this fic and it hits that at this point dean and cas would have been married for more than a year. cas my beloved...

an exploration of gender; angelic by sometimeswelose (4k)

Castiel's true form is made of electromagnetic radiation. He has spent the majority of his life, if you really want to add it all up and average the whole thing out, as a wavelength of celestial intent.

The thing about being made of light: it's light in the physics sense of the word. Castiel's waves are gamma, x-ray, micro, and radio. He's visible light too, of course, a visible light so intense that it is blinding to most humans.

hello trans cas community <3 he’s literally trans he was assigned genderless and then went hm actually i will be a man! love of my life

Some Boys are Sleeping Alone by prosopopeya (4.2k)

This isn't something that's okay, not for him, but it chases him through the years until it turns into something he can't -- doesn't want to deny. 

ohhh deans tenuous relationship with his sexuality my beloved...

love. worship. consummation. consumption. by redeyedwrath (4.3k)

ConsumehimNatural (copyright marcusantonius) the Series!

These are all snapshots centered around the idea of you know. Hunger in Supernatural. Both carnal hunger and other kinds. Fics are shown in semi-chronological order but this series is generally nebulously early seasons.

for ANYONE who is a consumehimnaturual this is required reading it is INCREDIBLE and gorgeous and very visceral and i am so very obsessed with it. thank you redeyedwrath for enabling my brainrot

the reach of human sense by perilously (4.5k)

“You know what Jimmy Novak looked like. You think he was beautiful—gorgeous, hot, all of it. It’s him. Not me. This isn’t my face.”

“But,” Dean says. He doesn’t know where he’s going with it. Just that Cas’ face is right there, brows drawn together and cheekbones gleaming in the lamplight. It’s a face that’s made his heart skip probably a couple hundred beats collectively since they met.

And it used to belong to someone else.

this one is just very nice <3 cas gets uncomfortable w dean calling him attractive since dean has never seen his trueform and they work it out

Down in the River by Ias (4.7k)

Alone in Purgatory and hunted by Leviathans, Castiel finds himself praying to the one person who can't hear him.

cas i love you <3 cas alone in purgatory praying to dean bc dean is the only thing he still worships i love you so much

Creature of Habit by trinityofone (5.1k)

The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well.

written in s5 when cas was depowered and completely nails the later seasons bitchy husbands dynamic it’s very good and fun <3

sink by crackers4jenn (5.4k)

"Where to?" A 9.06 coda.

very bittersweet very well written and also canon compliant so do not go into this one looking for a happy ending but i DO recommend it it’s very good

Sensational by castiowl (6.1k)

“When I first came to earth, it was advised that we temper the senses bound to our vessels. They were a distraction, we were told. An antiquated form of experiencing existence that would hinder our ability to complete our missions, whatever that may be. My true form can better facilitate these experiences. What you would recognize as heightened senses of sight and sound, among other things.”

Or, how Dean helps Cas experience all five human senses for the first time in one night.

early seasons deancas man. i love the sound part i love dean being so worried about doing a good job with this. god. read this please

Something to Protect by Sass_Master (6.2k)

Dean’s violent reaction to being unexpectedly woken has become something of a running joke among them, but Castiel can’t help but look past it to the underlying cause. It makes him ache to think that Dean feels so unsafe, so persecuted, before he’s even fully conscious.

Secretly, Castiel has been determined to work on that, to ease Dean into awareness in a less jarring way, smooth away one of the many stresses that follow him even in sleep. Now’s as good a time as any to try.

oh to sleep more soundly in the presence of someone you love...this fic is very nice i enjoyed it a lot

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers (7k)

“Hey,” Dean said. “I’m not ashamed of you, okay?”

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

“I understand you mean it,” Cas said. “But I don’t think it’s any better if you’re only ashamed of yourself.”

hello trans dean community here is 7k of trans dean having to deal with his internalized homophobia now that he’s sleeping with cas <3 it is SO good

The wilderness. by orange_crushed (8k)

He takes a shower and the pressure is not especially good, but it doesn’t matter. It’s warm and he stands under the spray a long time. Human skin, he knows, constantly renews itself, shedding the dead cells of the epidermis. He wonders how long it will take until he is an entirely new person, until every cell on his surface is a new one. He looks at his hands under the water. It might take less than a month.

this might be the only post 9x03 fic on here with a happy ending actually? plenty of good melancholy leading up to it though <3 canon divergent after 9x03 though which means no 9x06 fanfiction gap but it is absolutely worth reading

till the juice runs by deathbanjo (8.4k)

Apparently whoever drew up the venn diagram of Dean’s sex life decided the circle labelled ‘good sex’ and the one labelled ‘sex with men’ should be kept far apart.

hello this one is SO funny dean finally gets comfortable enough with his bisexuality to start having sex with men and it goes so very bad every time so sorry about your shitty choices beloved </3

First Date by aeli_kindara (8.9k)

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

this one is very sweet i liked it a lot <3 good refreshing little fic where they just get to have a nice evening together

Entertaining Strangers by cadignan (9k)

Dean settles on to his side, lying in the bed facing Castiel. “So you had sex without me and you bit all my moves. I think I deserve to hear about it, at least. What was her name?”

op im in love with you. premise is established relationship deancas and cas mentions he did have sex before dean and not only that it was a threesome. good for him <3 this fic is cas describing the story of what led up to the threesome and what happened during it while dean interrupts regularly. incredible

the shape you take by noviembre (10k)

“What?” Dean says, fake-offended. “I’d be hot as a girl, you know I would.”

And this is when he really, really should have stopped talking. When he shouldn't have whipped back around and asked, “Cas, if I was a woman, you’d fuck me, right?”

Because if he hadn’t said that, then he wouldn’t have had to deal with this:

Cas, meeting his eyes, forehead wrinkles all smoothed out like there’s nothing to be confused about anymore. Cas with something at the corner of his mouth that might barely be called a smile.

Cas saying, calmly and without hesitation, “Yes, Dean.”

--

Dean Winchester fucks around and, with the inadvertent help of some witches, Finds Out.

dean winchester your gender is diabolical. this fic is insane and its the only thing that matters actually. dean fully convinced its normal and straight to think about being a woman so you can fuck your male friend. incredible. op im proposing to you

Sinnerman by a_good_soldier (10k)

Dean listens to Nina Simone, reads Anne Carson, and makes out with a dude (sort of).

yall want to read about dean realizing he’s in love with a man as a direct result of learning to better respect women right?

you’re fooling yourself by cowboydeanwinchester (13k)

Dean Winchester and Castiel retire from hunting to raise baby Jack. Dean struggles to allow himself the things he truly wants.

Jack is two, Castiel and Dean are idiots, and Sam's gotta solve everyone's problems.

love a married couple who doesn’t know they’re married <3 everyone say thank you sam for bullying dean 

The Girlfriend Experience by rageprufrock (15k)

While it's not like Dean hasn't had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.

a classic for good fucking reason. we’ve all talked about dean thinking holding hands is too gay after having just had gay sex but my personal favorite was sam accusing dean of cheating on cas because dean bought condoms. incredible

No Kingdom To Come by domesticadventures (16k)

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

Cas looks up from where he sits on his bed, hair still damp from the shower, frowning as he places a finger on the page of his book to mark where he left off.

There are a million things Cas could say here; Dean has rehearsed them. After lunch, his restlessness had given way to a vague panic, a dread that matched his every step and crept along with him from room to room. Eventually, he had returned to his bedroom and spent the rest of the afternoon pacing back and forth, playing out all the possible scenarios. When Cas asks him Why? or Are you being serious? or when he sighs and says, in that way he has, Dean, he knows exactly what he’s going to do. He’s going to shrug casually, like he isn’t invested in the answer, like he isn’t desperate for an outlet, and say, Why not? He’s going to raise an eyebrow and say, What, are you not interested? He’s going to crowd into Cas’ personal space, he’s going to shove himself right up in there and whisper Cas against his ear.

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

literally the only quarantine fic i’ve ever bothered to read in any fandom and completely worth it it’s SO good. they become fwb and dean has an existential crisis and he keeps bringing up meaninglessness and death during sex

Bodies by Speary (18k)

It was a secret they never acknowledged even with each other. It would change everything, end everything if either of them ever dropped the act. So they became very good at acting, at keeping up the lie that gave them what they wanted. Even if that lie involved constantly seeking out temporary, consenting female vessels, Cas would do it. He told himself it was worth it for Dean. He just hoped that he could stop wanting more, or maybe one day Dean might stop pretending that he wasn't really sleeping with Cas every time.

i don’t even have anything to add tbh if that summary did not immediately make you click we are very different this fic is incredible. god. fellas do you ever make yourself a woman so you can fuck the man you love without him having to talk about it or confront his sexuality

it’s such a mystery (the way you know me) by fleeceframe (20k)

So the man crouching in front of Castiel is named Dean. He wonders if that’s supposed to mean something to him.

“Cas must’ve got hit with something earlier. He just dropped like a sack of fucking potatoes a minute ago. By the time I was checking on him, he had already woken up again, but now he doesn’t fucking know who we are.”

“I’m right here you know,” Castiel says testily.

Sam’s eyes are wide even as his eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks between Dean and Castiel again.

“What do you remember, Cas?”

“Firstly, that I’m not Cas. I don’t know who Cas is, but it’s not me. I don’t know who either of you are, either."

or the one where castiel is hit with a memory curse that makes him forget the winchester brothers and is stunned to find out he has a family... also why can't he stop thinking about dean?

BEST amnesia fic oh my god. cas my beloved you deserve the world. everyone read this that is not a request.

More Than Ever by Sass_Master (20k)

Dean’s getting some pancakes together for breakfast when Cas saunters in after a run.

He’s trying to focus on whisking batter, unfairly distracted by Cas a few feet away, breathing heavily and shining with perspiration. Dean’s been painfully aware for a long time that Cas is pretty easy on the eyes, but he’s used to seeing Cas buttoned-up and unflappable, looking straight-laced in a stiff oxford and an unflattering trenchcoat.

Now Cas is sweating, Dean’s borrowed t-shirt clinging to his skin, flushed from exertion and Dean really can’t deal with that in his kitchen right now.

this entire series is really good i enjoyed it a lot, i’m just putting this one specifically on the list bc the rest of the series is very explicit and this is really good as a standalone for anyone who wouldn’t be into the rest of the series!!

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous (20k)

"You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in."

Who the fuck was this bitchy "warrior of God" doing talking to him like that? Fuck Cas-tee-el and his dumbass trench coat and abrasive motherfucking attitude.

Dean was done with this shit.

***

Wherein a monster of the week steals the essence of Castiel's vessel, so he must use Dean, recently raised from hell, as a vessel instead.

it is at this point i realize that there are more fics than i expected there to be on this list that involves a threesome with only two people/using the presence of a female body to act like what’s happening is heterosexual. deangirlism is a disease 

I Shall Not Want by domesticadventures (20k)

His grace is burning out, and the wasteland it leaves inside him becomes an echo chamber for all the memories, all the fear and doubt and self-loathing he's collected over the years. Things said and done hound him on endless repeat until he's convinced they’ll break through his skin and fill the silence of the bunker.

His head is killing him, and he sits hunched over an open book, not really reading, just digging his fingers into his skull and praying nothing slips through the cracks.

this one is GORGEOUS i love it so so much. dean and cas are both struggling so much to get by and they’re trying to support each other but fucking it up and they have to grow together and learn to cope with the fact that this is where their lives are and they fall in love i need everyone to read this

To Boldly Go by 8daysuntiltheapocalypseiguess (24k)

Title: Just One of Those Things Author: Impala67 Series: TOS Rating: M Summary: Four years into their five-year mission, and all the planets start to look the same.

In which Dean is not Gene Roddenberry, but he does write Star Trek fanfiction.

mx winchester writing star trek fanfiction to process his own trauma <3 this is a wip but it’s SO good and i also have not consumed a single piece of star trek media so it IS definitely readable to anyone who isn’t a star trek fan. please read this

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo (30k)

“Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.”

this is on here just for the 1.5 people who were putting off this one like i did for no reason. it’s extremely good and it is just gentle. i enjoyed it a lot

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord (42k)

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

yall ever wonder what it would’ve been like if the sam and dean arrest storyline in s12 was interesting? yeah <3

Teaching Poetry to Fish by aeli_kindara (52k)

In which Castiel teaches poetry to fish. Also, himself. Also, eventually, Dean.

(A series-long story, diverging slightly from canon after S14.)

cas learning about humanity through poetry before dean and thats what led to him developing enough emotion to be lobotomized....cas i love you so much

Emergence by ellispark (58k)

Something’s been missing from Dean’s life for the past three years, a void left after a hunt gone terribly wrong. He often feels a sense of longing with no discernible cause, a need to talk to someone who isn’t there.

A call from an acquaintance leads Dean to James Novak, a man who disappeared more than a decade ago, and suddenly Dean gets the feeling he’s found what he’s been missing. But James isn’t really James — he’s the angel Castiel, who’s wanted by angels, demons and hunters alike. And he may be at the center of the storm that wrecked Dean’s life all those years ago.

another cool amnesia fic!! for unknown reasons everyone forgot cas three years ago but cas didn’t forget anything. cas deserves so much love and support. god

a turn of the earth by microcomets (95k)

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Frigging fantastic.

(Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

cas getting to meet and fall in love with pre hell dean just as much as he loves the dean he already knows oh my GOD. i love this fic so much. turn of the earth my beloved

Crossing Lines by sometimeswelose (122k)

Two Deans, one Cas - it's not as sexy as it sounds

Or

An ethics lesson from Hell

Or

The one where Dean from the past meets Dean in the present. They're not sure they like each other very much.

deans intense self hatred vs cas’ unwavering love for every version of dean oh my GOD also this is a wip fair warning but it’s so worth waiting for updates i’m having such a great time with this one i cannot wait to see how it gets ended

Plot Holes by saltyfeathers (160k)

Of course it wasn’t over after the apocalypse.

There was season six. Then there was season seven. Against all expectations, there was season eight. There were the alphas and purgatory, and then the Leviathans, and then the angels fell. Enter season nine. Loose threads Metatron, Abaddon, and Crowley have to be tied up. Sam, Dean, and Cas have to try to tie them while at the same time dealing with their evolving relationships and newfound graceless states.

Amidst all the chaos, someone has started publishing the Supernatural novels again. Convinced there’s something amiss in the pages, Charlie starts her own quest to suss out the truth behind the Winchester Gospels.

With the help of various faces, old and new, they must now not only deal with the typical runs of demons and recently fallen angels, but also reconcile the battles raging inside themselves, as the fate of the world, once again, quite literally lays in the palm of their hands.

saltyfeathers said i WILL make the plot holes in this show mean something because the showrunners are sure as shit never gonna adress them ! and i thank them for it bc this was a really cool read

Casefic/Roadtrip Fic

Deprived Of Every Planet by KelpietheThundergod (9k)

Dean's breathing is audible in the scant space between them, irregular. The motel room is dark, pale blue shadows falling in through the gaps in the blinds. Throwing a pattern of uneven white stripes over the bunched up covers. Over Dean's fingers twisted in the sheets. One half of him in shadow, softened by the dark. The heat of his skin. The tremble of him under Castiel's touch.

He caresses a hand over Dean's chest, slowly. Dean's mouth falls open, his body arching into Castiel's touch. Castiel stops over Dean's heart. Through the fever of his desire, he rejoices about the wonder of experiencing another's heartbeat through one's own senses.

Dean gasps, but then he turns his face away and towards the dark. Eyes closed tight and brows furrowed like something is hurting him.

Castiel stills.

“Dean?”

the case is background on this one but it Does take place over the course of a case so im putting it here. god touchstarved dean trying so hard to work through his shit for cas head in my hands i love this fic so much

before and after breakfast by spocklee (10k)

The monster of the week is a ghost who hates meat, alcohol, and feeling yourself. Guess who it is during the commercials.

chapter 2 of this one.....god. dean and cas you are both so unwell <3 i love everything abt this fic everyone read it now

we shovel all the ashes out by xylodemon (15k)

Dean’s always known things were headed this way. He just figured getting dragged under would be cleaner and easier than jumping in feet-first.

fics that make you go Oh they love each other...also there’s lesbians in it literally what else could you want.

thunder road by dothraki_shieldmaiden (20k)

After Chuck is defeated and the Winchesters settle into life without God, Dean Winchester is bored.

OR: Dean and Cas take a road trip and figure out some stuff along the way.

this fic is just like. it’s kind! this fic is kind it’s just a pleasant experience and i enjoyed it thoroughly. they’re in love and it’s good

Suck It, Judy Garland by GlitterDwarf, midrashic (20k)

It had to be St. Louis. Or, the one where Sam and Cas get fake married for a case, and Dean loses his mind.

actually im gonna defend dean here imagine youre dean and cas gives what definitely sounded like a deathbed love confession while making eye contact with you and then immediately afterwards fake dates your brother. who among us would not have been a bitch about this

best friends without benefits by lizbobjones (20k)

It’s nearing three a.m. and they’ve been on the road a long time. Sam’s been asleep in the back seat since eleven. Giving up and handing the wheel over to Cas and letting the guy who doesn’t sleep drive had seemed like a good idea.

the premise of this fic is so funny. cas voice dean you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid. everyone read this

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo (22k)

This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore.

alt version of getting rid of the mark of cain, the darkness never happens. this one is VERY heavy but it’s so good and it has a hopeful ending. ive read this one twice and loved it both times

Someone Who’s Feeling For Me by ellispark (45k)

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

hello op please contact me. please contact me and let me see the inside of your brain. this fic was an unparalleled experience and everyone should also go through it. i love it so very much

Bumper Cars by mansikka (111k)

Two teenagers are missing from an abandoned carnival, and there’s enough to raise suspicion that their disappearance involves a ghost. Dean, Sam, and Cas arrive in town to investigate, though what they find leads them away from those teenagers, and on the trail of a ghost story that churns up things from their past.

Can newly-human Cas, and Dean, with the help of shipper!Sam, work out the mystery behind the abandoned carnival and its ghost, and along the way, figure out the riddle that is them?

one of my absolute fav case fics it forces dean to confront some aspects of johns parenting and work through some shit and also him and cas fall in love and it’s really well done. love this one a lot <3

Finale Fix-its/Finale Denial

Sorry Jimmy by K_K_TiBal (2.1k)

Based on the tumblr textpost:

jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

this one is just extremely funny. local midwestern heterosexual man is forced to play relationship counselor to the dumbest gay people in existence because one of them wore his face

Dean Winchester Really Needs To Make Some Gay Friends by AreYouReady (2.2k)

“Like, I’m trying to think if I’ve had, I don’t know, crushes. If I ever had a gay thing before you came along and just didn’t notice,” Dean said.

Cas suddenly looked down, and away from Dean. If Dean didn’t know better, he would swear Cas looked guilty.

“What is it, Cas?”

“You have had several… gay things before.” Cas still wouldn’t look at him.

“What? When? How come you know this better than I do?”

There was no way the answer to this question wasn’t funny as hell.

dean learning about gay ppl via the memories of dean smith...incredible.

tiny difference (between ending and starting to begin) by sunforgrace (2.4k)

Sometimes Dean catches Cas staring at the sky.

It doesn’t happen often. Not when Dean’s around to tell, anyway. But often enough that he starts to notice.

Eventually Dean starts to recognize the pattern.

Cas just doesn’t watch the sky. He watches the birds.

Chuck is gone, Cas is human, and the world is safe. In the quiet aftermath Dean and Castiel find each other again.

i really don’t have much to say abt this one it is just very good and they love each other so much

Bring Home by cenotaphy (3.8k)

Dean's phone doesn't ring on the drive back to the Bunker, but that's okay. Because—well, maybe Cas lost his cell, what with getting shuffled back and forth between a cosmic void dimension and all. And anyway, Dean doesn't want this conversation to happen over the phone, he wants to—he wants to talk to Cas face-to-face. They should talk face-to-face.

Dean will tell him—

Dean doesn't know what he'll tell Cas. Dean is, in fact, terrified by how utterly and completely he does not know what he'll say to Cas.

cas being forced to face the consequences of sending the risky text that was despair <3

dean’s coworkers vs the heteronormative agenda by cowboydeanwinchester (4.1k)

Dean started working at a local auto repair shop in Lebanon, Kansas about a year ago. His coworkers don't know much about him. Except that he has a wife. Or maybe he doesn't. But he has a kid. Who is either a toddler or a high schooler. Who is either named Jack or Sammy. He also might have a best friend named Cas, but that also might be his wife.

Truth is nobody knows what to make of Dean.

obsessed w people not knowing a single fucking thing about dean because he talks so much and never explains anything. this fic is SO funny

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun (5.8k)

The Empty takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s, every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven. But in the middle of lecturing Cas in the form of Balthazar, it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

the empty playing mind games on an awake cas bc it can’t put him to sleep is a thing i like a lot and this is very very good 

Speak Silence No More by rea_sunshine (8.1k)

When Dean imagined this moment, it went like this:

Dean bursts into the Empty—guns blazing, chin high, righteous anger coursing through him. No matter what form his plans and fantasies and whiskey-drunk-whispered-promises took, he is always, always successful. When he imagined it, he was finally the hero Cas deserved.

The reality of the moment is this:

It’s fucking cold.

dean and cas STILL managing to not communicate with each other properly after the confession is so funny to me and this fic does it really well. also i like that a human being in the empty, where humans do NOT belong, had some like. consequences

my heart is a compass by lagaudiere (10k)

“There you are,” the Empty says, in Dean’s voice. It’s cold, like Dean’s eyes are cold, his expression set in contempt. It’s the expression Cas feared, he realizes, all the times he thought about saying it. Revulsion. It makes him feel sick in the way that goes beyond physical, here where there is nothing physical left.

The moment before it happened had been so sweet it covered up all the hurt. For years, Cas had been holding back those words, biting down on his tongue to keep from saying them. And now he had said it, and he knew that it was good, knew that it was worth it. But on the other side there is only this.

--

In the Empty, Cas dreams of his regrets, until someone comes looking for him.

one of thee best dean rescues cas from the empty fics out there i love the way his memories are written i love how many of them were ones that this fic came up with to give me new things to have brainworms over instead of just making me more fixated on He Watched Him Rake Leaves than i already am

killing time by orestespdf (11k)

It's been four years since Dean saved Cas from the Empty and confessed his feelings in return, and in their Vermont lakehouse, the retired couple is now learning how to heal. One morning, Dean gives Cas a haircut.

(A character study of Castiel.)

perfect fic perfect fic no notes no complaints they love each other so much and now dean is giving cas a haircut and they’re spending the day together. god.

and every time we kiss, i swear i can fly by knameless (14k)

Every time, Dean tells himself it’s the last.

--

aka, twelve times dean and cas kiss.

a just boy best friends kiss for every season <3 mwah

for which no words exist by MediaWhore (14k)

'a prayer for which no words exist' // richard siken

"Dear Cas who art in my bathtub, give me the strength to be honest about how I feel. For your sake and for mine. Forgive me all the times I wasn’t in the past, all the words I should have said but didn’t. And please stay. Please stay with me when all is said and done. Amen. "

Dean rescues a newly human Cas from the Empty. That's the easy step.

mediawhore i am in LOVE with you oh my god this fic. this fic. dean taking care of cas after rescuing him dean wrapping cas in a blanket oh my GOD

swimming with the fish pond fish by februyuri (17k)

Some time between Dean bleeding out on a makeshift hook in a barn in Ohio and Sam making marshmallows on his funeral pyre, Dean was brought back to life. By Castiel. Again. Dean agreed to it if only to give Jack time to work out the glitches up top. So, now Dean’s back in the land of the living and things are ... actually good, for once.

Or, as good as they can be when demons are attacking Earth, Dean’s failing to get over why he died in the first place, and Cas is suddenly, inexplicably taking every opportunity to casually tell Dean that he loves him.

this is a wip! but it is so good and so worth the read i love it a lot and am very excited for the last chapter. it IS pretty heavy though dean has a LOT to work through

looking like a true survivor (feeling like a little kid) by courfeyrac (20k)

"Jack’s a clever kid—has been ever since he was born, maybe even before that—but Dean’s pretty sure he hasn’t figured out where they’re going yet. And Dean’s… Dean’s excited about it. He remembers planning surprises for Sammy when they were little—saving up quarters and sneaking off to the arcade the year he turned seven, or slipping a book Dean had seen Sammy admiring into his jacket before sprinting out of the store the year he turned twelve. There was only so much Dean could give him back then, hindered by lack of finances and transportation and a father who paid attention. Now, though, Dean’s got a wallet full of cash, a tank full of gas, and the freedom to give his kid the kind of birthday he deserves."

Or, it's Jack's fourth birthday, and the kid wants to go to Build-A-Bear.

EVERYONE READ THIS RIGHT NOW. that is not a request this fic undid me. oh my god. oh my god. they’re a family and they’re going to build a bear and they love each other. oh my god. also no it isn’t a baby jack fic he is 4 and he is also alcal

what’s missing is found (our souls can exhale now) by sobsicles (27k)

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

~~~

"But have you ever just met someone and maybe it wasn't from the first moment, maybe it was after all these other moments that meant more than you ever expected them to, and it seems like your soul just—just—" Kaia makes a helpless gesture with her hands, pushing out, and she breathes out loudly. "Like it can finally exhale. And that person isn't guaranteed to make you happy, but they're—they're important. You just know it, you can't even escape it, you can't let them go. Ever met someone like that, Dean?"

"I—" Dean halts, his mouth hanging open. He's looking at Kaia, who's looking at him, and his heart is fluttering in his throat like a caged bird aching to soar again. His mind threatens to spiral out of control, but he focuses, swallowing hard. "Yeah. Um. I—yeah, I have."

deancas AND dreamhunter we love to see it also dean DOES smoke weed with kaia and apologizes for pulling a gun on her what more could you want in a fic

Command Me To Be Well by prospopeya (28k)

Dean did a lot of thinking about when and how he would get Cas back. Months of it, actually, stretching into a year, because while Sam and Eileen were settling into their new lives, Dean was stuck. He was stuck in a faraway corner of the bunker, dark and empty and hollow, ringing with the sound of a vibrating phone.

So when he falls to his knees in that same room, exhausted, hurting, breathless, and he feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Cas, he realizes that he doesn't have a single clue about what to do now. Getting Cas out had been easy--actually, it'd been the opposite of that--but the planning of it, the methodical desperation of one attempt after the other had been a familiar rhythm. It'd been soothing almost, solid, something to focus on that wasn't Cas's eyes, watery and jubilant in a way Dean hadn't ever seen that up close on anyone, let alone Cas.

And now Cas is pulling him to his feet, and Dean's stumbling, and he instinctually grabs Cas's arm, and his hand lights up with a fire that he isn't prepared for.

"Hello, Dean."

oh post despair lack of communication....oh dean refusing to work through his feelings...this fic is incredible i love it everyone who enjoys dean doing everything in his power to avoid talking about feelings up to and including having sex with the guy who’s in love with him multiple times should read this

break the skin (to break the barriers) by sobsicles (29k)

The first time she meets him, he's nothing more than an almost-missed appointment.

SOBSICLES TATTOO FIC MY BELOVED. dean grieving and getting tattoos and it turns into tattoo therapy. im SO in love with mitzi it’s insane. requires some suspension of disbelief for how long a tattoo takes but it’s an incredible fic and an unparalleled experience. sobsicles does not miss

ascend by quiettewandering (53k)

Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?

SUPER cool concept i liked this a lot i’m pretty sure everyone’s read it already but just in case someone hasn’t you absolutely should

oh sooner or later it all comes down to faith by sobsicles (62k)

Getting used to Heaven is something of a marvel. It ain't perfect, and Dean thinks he'd hate it if it was, which is probably why it isn't.

~~~

"You don't understand," Dean whispers, exhaling shakily. "I know you don't, because even I don't. The instant you were gone, I wanted you back. Cas, I wanted you back. I wanted—I wanted—"

Cas stares at him, searching his face. After a moment, his own face falls slack, eyes widening just so. "Oh," he breathes out.

Dean wants to be furious that Cas has figured it out before he has—whatever it is—but he's not even that surprised. Cas knows him too well, always has, even more than Dean knows himself. He's been kicking Dean in the goddamn teeth with how deeply he understands him, even about the things Dean doesn't, ever since they first met. You don't think you deserve to be saved, that's what Cas had said. All bundled up in impossibilities and power, this being that looked at Dean Winchester and knew every single inch of him, as if he had a right to each part.

"What?" Dean grits out.

"I love you, too."

the ONLY heaven fic. i do not read heaven fics bc i refuse to budge in my finale denialism i refuse to read fic where it is accepted that dean dies. i was hesitant to read this but god im glad i did it was so good. literally the best possible outcome of dean dying

Endverse

final fantasy. by orange_crushed (1.9k)

“If I’d actually been born human, would I have gotten sick like everyone else? Would I be running around gnawing on the neighbors?” Castiel tilts his head up and even from here Dean can see the black ring of his pupils, wide and dark as dead stars. He’s high as fuck and he’s been loading the guns for forty-five minutes. He stares into the space where Dean is. He smiles and shows his teeth. “Maybe you’d have already put a bullet in my head.”

"This is why you don’t lead storytime anymore," Dean says. "This kind of shit."

endverse last night on earth fics are something that can be so personal actually. god

The Last Song by Moorishflower (3.5k)

The very last song is the Song of Solomon, and Castiel sings it only for Dean. Set in "The End."

this is like. pre endverse and the tone is so like. wistful? is the best word ive got? it’s gorgeous i love it but fair warning there is graphic description of like. viscera and infected wounds

to think that we could stay the same by cipherwriter (6.5k)

cas has all he needs; himself, his creation, and enough power to continue this cycle for a long time. he's fine. dean wants to take care of him anyway.

oh my GOD this one is good it’s based off the thing of how originally endverse cas was supposed to be just sitting in a room killing and resurrecting the same cockroach over and over. very bittersweet at some points i love it a lot, do not read it if youre looking for something happy though lmao

the first church at the end of the world by withbloodstainedclothingon (11k)

The angels don’t eat the brain. Only Croats do that.

this one is fucked but it’s incredible it contains very heavy and violent subject matter and cas is an Actual cult leader he doesn’t just have orgies it is SO well done and i had a great time reading it i recommend it very highly if the warnings sound like something you can stomach

Down to Agincourt by seperis (1.1 million. i know. yes it’s a wip)

There is no such thing as a guarantee when it comes to war.

The outcome's known. Why try? Return your rusty sword to battered sheath, bow your head and bend your stubborn knee. Why take the field when you cannot win the war? But Harry -- he went down to Agincourt.

PLEASE. i know the length is intimidating i KNOW it’s a very long fic but please. please read down to agincourt i am begging you. head in my HANDS this series is incredible.

Non Supernatural AUS

Long-Term Relationship by bendingsignpost (2.7k)

Castiel says, budging over to make room for Dean on the couch, “I thought we should have a serious talk about our relationship.”

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

“Uh, Cas... you know we’re not dating, right?”

look man it’s bendingsignpost okay. it’s bendingsignpost it’s good and it’s sweet and you should read it

One White Lie by komodobits (11k)

Castiel takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t need to run through what he’s going to say – he’s already planned and edited and rehearsed it a thousand times. He is going to ask Dean Winchester out to dinner. If it’s not too forward, he’ll say, perfectly charming. You see, I’ve seen you around the neighbourhood and you always seem so earnest and I’d really like to get to know you bette— The door swings open, and Castiel panics.

He intends to excuse himself. He means to apologise and come back some other time. However, in a moment of blind fear, what comes out of his mouth instead are the words, “Could you spare a moment for Jesus Christ?”

do you ever pretend to be a jehovahs witness for months to hang out with the guy you like because you fucked up asking him out? yeah.

separate ways and sleeping dogs by sobsicles (53k)

Dean is three years sober when Cas comes back into town.

~~~

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Dean, once again, has to swallow the urge to offer to swallow something else. It's very hard to resist the gut-wrenching pull of want that hooks in his chest whenever he looks at Cas. And to think, he used to have him, used to be able to act on that want.

God, he's so fucking stupid.

Well, there's no point in kicking himself three years later for shit he can't change. He'll just sit right here and pretend that his fingers aren't twitching with the urge to reach out and touch. He can't do that anymore, and it's his own damn fault.

"Three years ago," Cas prompts.

Dean huffs a weak laugh. "Yeah. Eventful."

this fic hit me SO hard emotionally oh my god. don’t have much to say bc most of my thoughts on this fic are very personal but my god read this please

Everyone’s a Critic by Englandwouldfall (109k)

The one where uninspired chef Dean Winchester has a one night stand with the male (!) food critic who described the flavour of his garlic bread as 'closeted' and accidentally ends up dating him to try and prove that he's a kick ass chef, thank you very much.

(He may have a point about the 'closeted' thing).

this one is SO fun. dating the food critic who called your garlic bread closeted and lying about your career because you’re embarrassed and you want to redeem your food in his eyes but then you fall in love with him

Non Destiel Centric

gender? you mean that thing i have that pisses people off? by bigender dean winchester (homosexualitie) (946 words)

sam and dean paint each other's nails and dean abuses the technicalities of her gender. what more could you want? 

HELLO HE/SHE DEAN COMMUNITY oh my god the pure rush of euphoria reading this. oh my god. oh my god. 

the quiet road to a distant city by rottingbrains (1.2k)

Sam stares out the windshield again. They’re approaching a city, and she can see the lights in the distance. She’s past the danger zone, and she feels like the world around her reflects that in some way she can’t put into words- as if God is telling her that it’s okay. She did the right thing, and soon she will be past the lonely unknown and into the warm, forgiving light of acceptance. Or something. Come to think of it, the lights only look warm from far away, and she knows that the actual city will seem far less welcoming. Still. Best not to imagine the worst when it’s already going well.

required reading for transfem lesbian sam fans. fics that live in your ribcage to make your heart feel good

Four People Ruby Seduced & One She Actually Fell For (Or: Ruby's Epic Love Affair with Humanity in General and Sam in Specific) by tuesday (3.7k)

In which Ruby has a lot of sex, is not any kind of therapist that would be legal, and helps a few people out for her own reasons. (S4/S5 AU)

for everyone out there who enjoys ruby being a girlboss <3

Fractured Link by Trell (orphan_account) (5.5k)

Meg goes on, resolute despite the way Dean flinches, "He likes me. He likes me a lot, and I like him back, and that's probably good enough for both of us. But fuck me for saying so, Dean-o, he loves you, probably more than anything else on his daddy's green Earth, and you need to man up and give back what Clarence over there has been devoting to you for years."

this is meg/dean/cas which is not smth i really seek out but this was extremely good. set in s7 so it’s meg and dean and honey cas and it’s a lot of dean figuring his shit out and trying to forgive cas and i love meg a lot in this

[hauntedelation]

Repeat

Description - The Hammer proves to utilize surprising ways to settle down after a rough assignment.

Pairing - Black Male Reader x August Walker

A/N - This is my first male reader insert and AW fic! I wasn't sure how I should write the man but I found my August to be a little unpredictable, maybe hard. (Maybe he has some feelings, but he won't tell you what kind.)

Word Count - 2.4k

Warnings - descriptions of blood, wound tending and cleaning, anxiety, surprise fluff and maybe pining? Just partners being partners.

(no real proofreading this time y'all sorry 😅)

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

What he applied to your hand forced a pitiful sound from your body, something like a whimper subdued poorly by you.

By the sickly fluorescent light you can see it, the split that was the palm of your hand. Crimson upon crimson flooded the tissue, renewing again. 

Your insides overturned, and for the first time in your career you averted your eyes. You had to. For a reason you couldn't place your finger on, you knew you shouldn't stare. 

The way your pulse was working more warm liquid out of your hand, his fingers stained and slipping back and forth to tend, you felt unsteady. 

The spaces in your mind were gradually being occupied. So there was no shortage, no problem taking your mind off of it. 

You went back to that first mistake, back to where you foolishly under-packed. This assignment was far, but a swift turnaround. Accordingly, you thought it good to keep the amount of bags you carried to a minimum. 

A good number of things were left, a tool here and there that didn't stand out. You had done it before. One notch carved into the wood and you were null of any mistakes up until this point. 

What you couldn't grasp was that these absent devices were the key to this assignment. It hit like a ton of bricks the moment you were met with the complex screen of a security lock. 

You were deflated when your eyes met the empty space of what could have been the bypass key. There you spent upwards of an hour working through the perimeter of the place.

The next one could have happened regardless, but it didn't make you feel less inept. 

Where you went right when you should have gone left. The opponent you met was just as trained as you were: blank, unrelenting and practiced with a blade. You fell to a place where you were at a strident disadvantage. 

Would you have picked your jugular or your hand? There had to have been something better, a third choice? You should have been faster than that.

You could have.

Still, your hand caught the edge and it wasn't until much later, long after you were walking away that you could feel heat trickling down your fingers.

It's like the movies until it isn't. You've got yourself thrumming, high from the situation. You're locked in and can take anything to your vessel, then you're coming down slow. All the little details enter your mind, focusing and you notice. He noticed, actually.

With the most austere set of eyes you had ever seen, he did. 

Before you were given the chance to sit down he was standing over you, breath hot and charged from the brawl. On the top of your head you could feel it. The fabric of his suit was torn and twisted over his chest, rising and falling with his loosened tie.

He'd backed you to one of the steel tables, squinting through the dim and the dark. You had in mind that you were to be spit in the face, condemned for dragging the job to left-field. The glower had already been there.

You were bracing for it, balling both of your hands. The blunt object in your fingers collided with the brick floor. And it rang out, filling the empty spaces with a loud echo. Soon there was nothing. 

That's how it was seconds after.

A pair of boots brushed against yours before there was a hand capturing your right arm. He'd brought your dripping palm up and opened your curled fingers. Your wound was inspected with cautious eyes, the extent picked apart.

His calluses dragged around the edges of your sticky palm. You sucked in a breath when he had gone a little too close, but he ignored it. There was a drilling leer into your face before he spoke, "You were sloppy." 

The back of your throat had grown bone dry. You took a second, swallowing then pulling your eyes from his hardened face. 

That had been the first time that you'd been told that. Knowing in the very depths of you that this was the beginning to many months of second guessing, wishing you could have done better. 

You don't know why you had let this one go. Everything seemed feasible in the documents, from the time requirement to the objectives. You expected to have gone above and beyond.

That is close to what you told Sloane all those weeks ago,

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

"This one looks like it's going to be less of an issue."

She had her arms crossed in her crisp sleeves, her hip propped against the hardwood of her desk. You were called in to provide an updated report over your assignment, your feelings and projection.

It had gone to the point where you could no longer count on your fingers how many jobs you'd been on. The second anniversary from your first day recently passed, the bouquet still sitting on your dining room table.

You recall being introduced to your boss, the gratification in seeing someone like her in such an esteemed position.

(Someone who reminded you of your mother at times.)

Right then, the woman appeared to be getting ready to give a critical reply. Her brow was curled sharply but you could see the corners of her lips begin to upturn. 

"You have been assigned an associate with this task, agent."

This was of no particular issue. It was not every mission that you collaborated with another. Be that as it may, you've grown accustomed to this practice, it evolved into something that you improved with. This was your dream, and you intended to flourish.

You were sure there was no one you wouldn't be able to work with. 

When your superior uttered the name, 'Walker,' you had asked her to come again. 

"You're up and coming, still figuring things out in this line of work. I'm placing you with my best on this one," Sloane announced.

You withheld any signs of protest in front of her, flashing professional countenance and a nod. She dismissed you with a lingering gaze, most likely holding the same thing in her mind as you were. You kept up the front until you were situated at the chair by your desk. 

Upon your back touching the seat, a sigh was released, one that you felt in the pit of your stomach. 

You wanted to smile at how comical his name sounded. One would have thought you were speaking about an exotic dancer, The Hammer. You didn't think it fit at first. 

He's just a man, but he is the kind that exceeded the weight behind his title. He had discharged far more in his profession by the time you were approaching yours, taking the limits of what an agent could do to the stratosphere.

You could wax poetic about those stories, try to recount those details. But, truthfully there had been such a divide in your experience when compared to his. You could feel the pricks of uncertainty in your chest.

Perhaps you were only afraid.

He'd never once acknowledged your existence until you met on the tarmac the following Tuesday morning. The moon was leaving the twilight sky. Under an orange colored light, shining on the side of his face you could see him check his watch.

And then those eyes flicked over to you, sizing up your bags, your clothes. You think you may have even caught those blue slits drag along certain parts of you.

Your voice was weak, coughing low in your throat you tried to press out, "It's nice to finally meet, Mr. Walker."

(Ah, Mr Walker? You wanted to flinch, but you found no time.)

Then you provided him your name with a reluctant hand. It took far more composure on not showing the tremor in your limb but when the man peered down at you, securing your hand with a firm shake you knew. 

He'd felt how clammy your skin was. 

That mustache made a microscopic twitch, "Call me August, and, ditto."

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

You allowed your hand to remain elevated, but your period of self-loathing was eventually disturbed. 

The sensation of his large hands appeared, firm and wrapping around your waist before hoisting you on the surface of the steel table. There was a soft thud from your good hand landing to bear your shift in weight.

It was then that you froze, ears pricking to that steady footfall departing from the table.

You listen and—what?

What crosses your mind is maybe you hit your head back there, sometime during taking that grunt to the floor. Yet, you don't feel anything, no pounding in your skull. The musing is washed away the moment the flicker of a pale-green light shines above.

The room is revealed to have been an abandoned kitchen of sorts. Pots and pans layered in a thin veil of dust with more grime to compliment. With your good hand you wipe at the sweat falling down your temple, you'd become a little hot. 

Glass crumbles underneath his boots, he rotates his back around to you with a small kit that strongly resembles the one you stored in your bag. 

The white plastic had your name scrawled on there in your handwriting. While you could sit there wondering how August retrieved that, you are still processing the way the man picked you up. How he brought you up like you were made of feathers. Why he…

He comes in real close, your vision floods with a view of his chest, his gloved hands shedding away the garment and laying them on the metal surface.

The soft click of the first aid box click echoes out, and under the hum of the lights above August murmurs down to you, 

"At least you had enough sense to pack this."

His tone is the same, puncturing only not quite as breathy. The rise and fall of his chest had slowed far more, the dark curls on his chest soaking in the sweat running down his skin. And you blink, not realizing how enthralling the sight is.

Your pulsing hand is taken again, gingerly, by a pair of rough hands. You brace yourself on the edge of the table upon seeing the clear liquid bottle.

He's cleaning your wound throughly and you're trying not to take it like a kicked puppy. Through grit teeth, "You think I could skip stitches this time?" They never were your favorite.

"No dice," he breaths out, placing the bottle of alcohol down next to your thigh.

"You about had your hand sliced in half, Agent. You're lucky anyway. But,"

The needle and thread is pulled out, more cleansing and draining. Rinse and repeat. Walker was moving quickly, probably sensing the adrenaline in you draining by the minute.

Your communication devices buzz in unison, you don't have time to check your screen for any updates before he reaches with one hand in his pocket to retrieve his.

He sets your hand down on your own thigh and you listen to his voice shift to a formal tone. The female voice on the other line, (Sloane most likely) sounds curt and questioning. 

Your stomach begins to roll in circles. Your fingers wrapped around the table's edge tighten around the metal, almost enough to leave marks.

Through those training sessions all those months, you learned to properly squash any threats of anxiety, distraction. You could feel yourself slipping, your body seizing up in front of the man. Walker seemed to have been approaching the height of his conversation with your boss, shifting so the phone rests between his ear and shoulder. 

In the meantime, you were breathing. That familiar rhythm, flowing in and out, counting. You fall into the headspace that you became acquainted with all too well. 

You lost yourself in it, not realizing that Walker was dissolving Sloane's interrogation. Every syllable. The way in which his voice formed the words was unknowingly steadying your brain, calming your heart rate down slowly. 

All the while taking your wounded hand was taken in his, he set about cleaning it one more time before starting to close it with the thread. 

"Yes ma'am. No, he had everything in his detail under control...Yes. That's correct. The only slip up had been breaching the security wall but we successfully infiltrated."

You could feel the sharp pricks in your skin, your arm tensing after each pull to the string when closing the wound. Eventually Walker drifted, and your eyes landed on the semi-clean criss cross stitching in the palm of your hand. 

The man's eyes were dead set on his handiwork, narrowing on the lines before clearing his throat to part ways with your boss. There was a, "We will report back upon leaving this location."

He hung up the phone, and slid the device next to your thigh. You didn't think anything of it, only Walker's hand didn't leave where his phone was sitting. And you were encircled, the fabric of his shirt practically enticing his body closer to yours.

It had been a number of seconds before you could bring yourself back. The same exercise was reaching its tail end, and maybe, just maybe you could believe Sloane would not chew you a new one when you return.

Those words, It's okay, you tried your best. Everyone has bad days. You said them once again, inaudible and only in your mind. The room at this point only held the echo of the cars outside, Walker's heavy boots shifting before—

His fingertips were cold against your jaw, you almost jumped away from him. You should have, what was he doing? His thigh brushed so light against your knee, and when he guided your eyes up, you saw him already peering at your damp face.

Everything about the man's face was blank. Thick brows, lips hidden under a bushy trail of hair, all set in a firm line. You made no attempt to divert, you weren't sure he would let you. You had been planted there, decided by him your next move would be included.

Then those words fell silent. 

His fingertips pushed up your jaw, against the grain of your facial hair growing there. Then you felt him cup your cheek, strong hands dragging along your skin. 

Walker used his thumb to brush against your temple, wiping away something sticky. Red tint coated the little grooves in his skin and he pulled away, wiping his digit on the material of your pants. His tone was far more entertained then,

"Looks like you hit your head back there."

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

Taglist - @mansaaay @hope-to-hell @feralrunaway @thetaoofzoe @luclittlepond @madbaddic7ed @brandycranby @emyearns

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

[jaystarroyco]

Mondale, unsettled

I think writing short fics in the style of Beverly Clearly’s Socks is something we should do more often, really. (Set after s3- welcome to my s4 tomshiv predictions. It’s Mondale’s POV lol so nothing gets out of hand)

Mondale was having a rough Tuesday.

First of all, when he returned from his morning walk with his walker, (who had shown up with a new brand of biscuit which Mondale, frankly, didn’t care for at all) there was already motion in the kitchen. Mondale preferred it if the human occupants of the home slept in well past nine, but it was barely seven and he could smell the rich coffee beans as soon as he was let back in the door.

Secondly, the early riser was Tom, who had fallen sharply down Mondale’s list of favorite people as of late. He had developed a series of strange affectations, and Mondale found them off-putting.

Sure enough, as soon as Tom heard his nails on the cool tile, he sang out. “Mondale, Daddy’s up early! How was your walk? Did you miss Daddy?”

Mondale had spent his life well cared for, and even doted on, by Tom. But he had never, before a few weeks ago, spent any time being talked to in sing-song baby speak, and Tom had certainly never referred to himself by any parental title.

In fact, Mondale had been barely old enough to open his eyes when Tom had picked him out, and upon presenting him to Shiv, had asked her “Do you think he knows we’re his new parents?”

Shiv had been stroking his silky ears, but stopped immediately at that. “I don’t know about that, Tom, I wouldn’t say we’re his parents.”

“Well, what are we then? His… caretakers? That’s almost the same.”

Shiv had frowned slightly at Mondale, as if inspecting his tiny nose and finding it unsatisfactory. “No. I guess we’re his roommates?”

“Oh, his roommates.” Tom had pulled Mondale closer to his chest, cradling his head. “Yes. Well. Mondale, I’m Tom, and this is Shiv, and we’re going to be your roommates.” Tom tapped him on the nose while Shiv rolled her eyes. “And you’re Mondale,” he continued, “and that’s your name, which I, as your roommate, am entitled to give you.”

“Tom.”

Shiv was nowhere to be found in the kitchen that Tuesday to stop Tom, which was strange, as they typically woke each other up getting out of bed. A family of light sleepers. Tom and Shiv, not Mondale. Mondale could sleep through anything.

Without his wife to object, Tom continued, while Mondale hopefully eyed the bacon he could smell on Tom’s plate. “Daddy missed Mondale, for sure. Would Mondale like some bacon, is that what he would like?”

Yes.

Licking his lips, and altogether more satisfied, Mondale plodded off toward his bed, paying no attention to the continued droning from the kitchen. “Is Mondale lonely? It must be boring for Mondale, with just me around the house. Could use a little more excitement.”

Circling up to go back to sleep, Mondale couldn’t help but disagree.

Unfortunately, he never made it back to sleep.

“Tom,” demanded his second roommate, striding down the steps while fastening an earring. “what are you saying?”

“I was just speaking to Mondale,” Tom replied calmly, refreshing his cup of coffee. Mondale perked up one ear at the sound of his name.

“Mondale?” Shiv, stopped halfway from Mondale’s bed to her husband, looked between them, as if she expected Mondale to confirm the statement.

“Yes, our dog? Our dog Mondale. Who you haven’t so much as scratched in nearly a week? I think he might be lonely. Missing Mommy.”

Shiv had started toward Mondale as if to give the obligatory guilt scratch, but froze in her tracks. “Missing who?”

“Well, missing you, Shiv. You’ve been gone so much, and you’re the only mother he has… he might begin to think he’s not wanted.”

“Hm.” Shiv did complete her guilt scratch. Under the chin, not behind his ears like he liked, but that’s okay. “Maybe it’s not that Mondale’s not wanted, maybe he’s just been a bad dog.”

Mondale thumped his tail. He wasn’t who was being called a bad dog here, because he certainly hadn’t done anything. Tom looked offended on his behalf.

“Maybe he’s acting out because you’ve been traveling so much.”

“Well, it takes a lot of effort, keeping the world’s least-qualified candidate from choking on his own foot.” Shiv gave Mondale a flat, awkward pat on the head and moved in the direction of the bacon, raising his interest, but she went for the coffee instead. “He needs a significant base if he’s going to spoil the election, and he seems dead-set on offending every single voter.”

“I’m not sure Mondale cares much about national politics. I think maybe he just wants to spend time with his Mommy.” Tom looked mournfully at Mondale, and Mondale raised an eyebrow.

Shiv stared at her steaming coffee cup for a moment of silence before responding. “I think Mondale might have more of a stake in it than he lets on.” Shaking her head, she looked back over at her dog. Before the previous night, Mondale hadn’t seen her in nearly a week. She seemed different. “And Jesus, Tom, would you cut it out with all the mommy shit? I hate to think what you’re going to want an actual child to call me.”

Tom sat up straight in his chair so fast that Mondale spooked, sitting up himself. Was there a pigeon to catch? Or even better, was Tom about to run and play chase with him?

“Going to? Like- so you decided, that, eventually, we-?”

Shiv, holding on very tightly to her mug, shook her head. “No, not eventually.” She cleared her throat. “I’m pregnant, Tom.”

Tom was out of his seat so fast that Mondale plodded over to join in the fun. Tom embraced Shiv and lifted her off her feet, just slightly, causing the coffee she was holding to tilt and spill a bit onto Mondale’s head. He shuddered as Tom laughed delightedly.

“Are you kidding? Is this real? Are you joking? Shiv? Are you sure? Are you excited? Is- is it mine?”

It might be the hot liquid evaporating off him, but Mondale could swear he felt the air chill as Tom spoke the last question.

“Shiv? Is it mine?”

“Tom.” She reached an arm out of his embrace, now more like a trap, to place the coffee cup on the counter. “Do you really think I would have a baby with someone else?”

“I would hope not.” Tom was still holding her in both arms, staring into her eyes, and flat out ignoring Mondale, whimpering for him to dry off his fur. “I would hope you know how much that would hurt me.”

Shiv gives a short laugh. “What type of wife do you think I am, Tom? To know the one thing you want most in the world and to give that to someone else? Who would do that?”

Tom was still very still, but Shiv placed a hand over each of his and removed them from around her. And to Mondale’s surprise, she looked down at him, and cooed a little bit, adopting her own version of the baby voice her husband had been practicing in recent weeks.

“Mondale would do that, would he? Mondale’s a good dog.” She rumpled his ears, careful to avoid the coffee stain, and turned back to her husband. “Tom.”

Tom slowly seemed to shake himself from whatever alternate plane of consciousness he had been sucked into. “No, no, you’re right,” he said slowly. “That would be low.”

“Exactly.” Shiv gave a tight smile and then turned away. “Well. I have to go. Connor’s filming a news segment today.” Mondale’s ears perked up at the mention of Connor. Connor was a lot of fun. He always wanted to pet Mondale, or play fetch, or sneak food off his plate.

“Wha- of course, of course. But Shiv-“

“I don’t have time for this right now, Tom. We can talk later. Or no, actually, we have that conference call later, but we can talk tomorrow. And I’ll be back home for a night on Sunday.” She reached for her coat in the hall closet.

“Don’t you think you ought to take it easy? I mean, how far along are you? Fuck, you must be two, three months, we haven’t-“

“Tom.” Shiv waved her hand, just like she did when she wanted Mondale to lie down. He obliged, and so did Tom. “It’s fine. We’ll talk about this over the weekend.” She grabs her bag- still in the hall closet, where she had left it when she returned the night before- and went for the door.

“Bye, Mondale,” she added as she marched out the door.

Mondale thumped his tail on the ground while Tom stood next to him, staring blankly at the equally blank door.

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 6

A/N Where does the time go?  I lugged my laptop 7,000km round trip with the sole intention of working on this fic, but that apparently didn’t happen.  For those who found the last chapter hard to bear, I apologize in advance.  I am not quite finished being cruel.  With that said, trigger warning for character death, childhood disease, suicide ideation.  The chapter title is Sleeping in the Clouds.

The first five chapters are available on my AO3 page.

Five Months Later

A persistent mechanical bleating lifted Claire from the indeterminate depths of medicated sleep.  The emergency contact number she provided to all her patients was programmed to forward to her mobile, where a particularly aggravating ringtone ensured she would never miss a call.  Even at one am on a Tuesday night.

Fumbling for the device, she glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering.

“Doctor Beauchamp speaking.”  Her voice was gritty and rough.  She reached for a half-filled tumbler of water while waiting for the caller to identify themselves.  Over the line she could make out muted traffic noise, and perhaps a distant foghorn, but no-one spoke.

“Hello?” she inquired, torn between concern that a patient needed her and frustration that she might have been woken by a misdialed number.

“If you’re one of my patients, you need to talk to me so that I can help you.”

There was an intake of breath, a weepy sniffle, and then the click of the call being terminated.  A prickle of gooseflesh washed over her.  She couldn’t say exactly how, but she knew who had called, and that he needed her.

One of the grim perks of her job was that she had backdoor access to reverse look-up for telephone numbers, in cases where there was a threat of self-harm or harm to others.  As Claire hastily donned socks and grabbed a winter coat, she waited on hold for the PSAP operator to provide an address.

“We’re in luck, Doctor Beauchamp.  It wasna a mobile number.  In fact, tis a telephone booth.  Gote Lane, in Queensferry.  Down near the... umm, next tae the bridge.”

Without so much as a thank you, she hung up and frantically punched the app for an Uber.

Fifteen nail biting minutes and an excessive tip later, she stood in front of an empty phone booth.  Predictably, the directory had been torn out, leaving only a thin metal cord and car-key graffiti inside the cramped interior.  But on top of the phone itself she found a familiar ecru business card, her name and credentials embossed in black font.

“Damn it, Jamie,” she muttered to herself, palming the card.

If he’d hung up and started walking towards the bridge, she might be able to catch him if she ran all out, but something called her towards the nearby shore instead.

The tide was out, leaving a narrow strip of beach and sharp, slimy rocks exposed to the heavy air.  Her nostrils were assaulted by the briny vegetative rot of the retreating sea.

On a weathered bench facing the river, encircled by a cone of foggy streetlight, sat a man, his eyes trained on the smudgy lights of the Queensferry bridge hovering high above.  Even bundled in a heavy black jacket and watch cap, she would recognize his long limbs and the set of his shoulders anywhere.  She let out a long breath of relief.

She approached the bench cautiously, not certain if her presence would be welcome.  Instead of turning to greet her footsteps, Jamie addressed the bridge.

“Maggie passed t’day.  I called ‘cause I wanted ye tae know, but then I couldna find the words tae tell ye.”  Despite his refusal to look at her, his words were calm and without a hint of the bitterness she’d expected.

“Oh, Jamie.  I’m so terribly sorry.  I didn’t know her well, but she was a very special little girl who loved you dearly.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of her words, but didn’t reply.  She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, suddenly aware that she was still wearing her pajamas, her hair doubtless a veritable cumulus of tangled curls.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.  “I still have some contacts at the hospital, I could...” she broke off, knowing it was ridiculous to offer professional assistance when she’d been the one to sever their relationship.

“Would ye, if it’s no’ too much tae ask, would ye mind jus’ sittin’ here with me fer a bit?”

He finally turned to look at her, and she could see the spider web of red veins that surrounded his irises, testimony to his heartbreak.  His mouth, usually such an accurate barometer of his mood, was strangely inert.  She nodded, unable to deny him such a simple request.

It was the time of night when the daytime symphony of the city broke into its component parts, every passing car, every lapping wave a single instrument singing its own plaintive song.  They sat in silence for long enough that she could feel the damp creeping up the legs of her pajamas.

“Maggie loved tae cross that bridge,” Jamie said at last.  “She’d lower her window, rain or shine, and stick her wee arm out, sayin’ it felt like she was flyin’.”

Claire smiled at the image, trying to picture the little girl with the giant imagination.

“What colour was her hair, Jamie?” she asked.  “Was it red, like yours?”

“Nah, dark, like Jenny’s and our Da.  But wi’ curls like mine and my Ma’s.  A little like yours, actually, Sassenach.  That is, before the chemo took it away.”

She grimaced, not knowing what topic to choose that wouldn’t lead Jamie on a path directly back to his grief.

“She fought sae hard,” he continued before she could attempt another distraction, “but the cancer wouldna let her win.”  Tears were rolling down his cheeks, glinting in the sodium light like stars, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.  “She was the best person I knew.  Sounds strange tae say of a wee lass, but she truly was.  An’ it made me a better person tae love her.  What the fuck am I gonna do now?”

Jamie was looking straight at her, as though he truly expected her to offer useful guidance.  All her training, her professional distance, fell away in the face of one broken man.  She swallowed, searching for words that weren’t a platitude.

“You’re going to go on living, because she can’t.  Because your happiness, when you are ready to feel it again, will be a gift to her memory.”

Jamie sniffed, then wiped his sleeve across his face.  He placed his hand on the bench between them.  Without allowing herself to think, Claire reached for it, finding his skin surprisingly warm.  There was an agonizing fermata, when all the instruments held their breath, and then he turned his palm upwards to meet her own.  Beneath the fog the river slipped by, blending endlessly into the sea.

"Look, Jamie, I know it’s not the right time, but I want to tell you that I’m sorry.  For the way I treated you, and ended things, and...”

“Nay, Sassenach, it’s me who should apologize.  I had no right tae throw my diagnosis at ye like some kinda weapon.  An’ when I think of how I heedlessly brought up yer becoming a mother.  I, of all people.  Weel, suffice it tae say I’ve spent many an hour regretin’ my words an’ actions.”

She squeezed his hand, wordlessly declaring them equal in remorse.

“How have ye been?” he inquired, peering at her as though trying to read her state of mind on the planes of her face.  She chuckled, looking away when the intensity of his gaze became too much.

“About the same, I suppose.  Better some days than others.  Geillis has started ordering my lunches for me, so I no longer have any excuse not to eat.”  Jamie nodded, seemingly pleased with this news.

“And you?  Are you still seeing Dr. Rafferty?  I... uhh, I know his office requested your file.”

In fact, Giles Rafferty had called her the week after her confrontation with Jamie, wondering why his new patient’s record of treatment contained no more than his biographical details and the time and date of each of his appointments.  She told him the same thing she’d told Geillis when she asked the same question in significantly cruder terms: that her weekly interactions with Jamie had never led to a professional diagnosis or a recommended course of treatment.

“Aye. He’s a good man, although tragically immune tae my charms.  Unlike some.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Fraser,” she warned, although his rakish grin warmed her from the inside out.

“I’ll be darkening his doorway wi’ some frequency, after t’day,” he continued with a return to solemnity.

And yet you called me, Claire wanted to say, but didn’t.  When his beloved niece had slipped away, hers had been the number he had dialed, despite everything.  The very idea made her thoughts flit about like fireflies.

“I missed ye, Sassenach,” he confessed quietly after a time.

“I missed you too, Jamie.”

They sat together through the thin hours of the night, talking, sharing memories of Maggie, but mostly in silent companionship.  As dawn brightened the eastern sky, the fog began to lift, revealing an overcast sky.  The lights of the bridge blinked out, and the city’s music began anew.  Claire wished futilely that day would never break, knowing that it would bring them both the pain of two very different kinds of goodbye.

Her hand, when Jamie finally let it go, felt strange, as though it had been separated from its source.  She tucked it quickly into her pocket.

“I.. errr, I need tae be goin’,” Jamie said by way of apology.  “Ian and Jenn will be needin’ me.”

“Yes, of course.  I’ll just, um, call myself an Uber.”

They were both standing, neither seemingly knowing how to part.

Jamie opened his mouth, paused, shook his head in frustration, then looked away.  Her traitorous hand escaped her pocket and found its way to his chest.

“I’ll be thinking of you.  All of you.  If there’s anything, anything at all..”

“How long until your no’ my doctor anymore?  Ethically speakin’.”  He was looking at her in a way that made the fireflies whirlpool about.

“What?” she asked to buy herself some time to breath.

“Before I go an’ face everything that is wrong about t’day, I want tae ken, how long must I wait before I can kiss ye again wi’out riskin’ yer reputation?”

“There’s no written timetable,” she stalled.  “It’s a question of a doctor exerting undue influence or the exploitation of the patient’s trust, and there’s really...”

“Those rules are meant tae protect the patient, aye?  So I should be allowed tae waive them, no’?”

“Jamie...”

“Fine, let me rephrase my question.  Doctor Claire Beauchamp, when can I, James Fraser, ask ye tae look upon me as a potential suitor and no’ a former patient?  Six months?  A year?  Two years?”

“You really are the most infuriatingly stubborn man,” she huffed.

“Aye, I ken.  Sae, two years?  Do we have an agreement, Sassenach?”

“Fine, yes, two years, but Jamie, I don’t expect you to...”

A finger was placed across her lips, silencing her protests.

“Two years are naught if I can kiss ye again once they have passed.  Until then, Claire, please take care of yerself.”

She stood by the bench long after Jamie was gone, staring out across the river.  A flock of geese flew by in formation, broad wings nearly touching the surface of the water as it reflected the steel gray clouds above.  She thought of little Maggie, and her birdhouse surrounded by clouds.  A sob wrestled its way up her throat, surprising in its urgency.  And then, she allowed herself to cry.

[pricemarshfield]

moments like these

A Figayda angst/hurt/comfort fic. Requested by @sapphic-tuesday even though they only requested it because I love Figayda. (ily bestie) Read on AO3 here.

Prompt: Figayda, angst, hurt/comfort, “You don’t need to stay.” “I don’t need to. But I want to.”

The forest is dark and damp and the worst fucking place Fig has ever been, and she's running as fast as she can to get away from herself. She'd point out how it's way too on the nose if she had any breath left, but as it stands, it's all she can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, slower and slower.

Eventually she has to just collapse into the nearest bush, hope somehow that's enough stealth even as the crack of the branches seems to echo out for miles and miles. There's a long, long beat, where she thinks, just for a second, that maybe she's done it. Maybe the other her isn't too perceptive, either.

She hears an oddly pitched laugh from right behind her ear, as though she isn't lying on the ground, and when did the branches tangle around her leg? Where'd her bass go? Why did none of her friends even seem to care that someone else took her place--

Fig wakes up with a start, sits up, hits her head against her ceiling which is, of course, the living room floor. Her horns scratch it a bit, but thankfully, her mom won't ever see it. Her crystal says it's 3 in the morning when she checks it, and fuck, she's gonna be stuck in here for awhile if she can't pass back out.

She could send a quick text to the Mordred group chat (the manorlings, despite Ragh vying for 'OWLBEAR HYPE HOUSE') and ask if anyone's up to let her out, but then there'll be questions about why she's up, so she just concentrates on mage hand until she nails the chord and the ceiling opens.

The house feels too empty with everyone asleep, too stifling when she can't make any noise, but there's not exactly anywhere else she can go. Her days of sneaking out in the middle of the night to go to concerts aren't nearly as fun now that she misses her friends the whole time. Also, now people recognize her for being one of Solace's biggest stars or whatever, and that's just kind of a hassle when she's not in the mood for attention.

The living room couch is an old, cracked leather thing, moved from Jawbone's apartment. It's not comfortable in any traditional sense, but there's a groove in it that fits her perfectly, and that's nice, in its own way. Sometimes she misses the couch in the old house. It got burned to hell in the attack on prom night, though, so. The whole house did, honestly; when she went home after everything, the window in her bedroom was shattered, glass all over her bed so that she had to pick up each piece, vacuum up what small pieces she couldn't see. She still woke up with a couple cuts on her legs that she didn't have before, but it was home, even if the posters and the pink wallpaper were both singed, even if the purple comforter she'd had since she was a kid didn't smell like it used to.

The old Faeth house never really felt like home after her horns, sure, but Mordred...

She does like it here. Loves it, when everyone's crowded around the table, Adaine arguing with Kristen about some minute difference in casting, Jawbone telling a wildly off-color story to a confused-but-interested Aelwyn, Sandra Lynn making sure Ayda has enough food on her plate while she blinks back fiery tears.

But it doesn't change the fact that she lived here for all of a day before spring break, and right now the hallways and secret passages and tall ceilings all feel ominous, not exciting anymore.

She turns on the light before her mage hand dissipates, scrolls through the games she has on her crystal. Most of them are things she's had on here back when she liked unicorns and glitter and all those girly things that she never got around to deleting.

It's something to do, at least.

The bright colors are nostalgic in just the wrong way, and she makes it through two minutes of matching pop rocks and cake slices before she's scrolling through the games again, on-edge for no goddamn reason.

"Fig?"

Part of her relaxes against the couch before she's even finished processing the voice as Ayda. "Hey! I didn't think you were staying here tonight."

"I wasn't," Ayda says, looking at her with an expression she can't read at all. She's in a deep blue chemise, like she'd been sleeping before she walked through the enchanted door into Mordred. "I--may I sit?"

"Yeah, of course," Fig says, patting the spot next to her. "Always, babe."

Ayda cries a little as she sits, and Fig wipes the tears away. The first time she tried, when she was a normal tiefling and didn't wear the title of Archdevil, it stung a little, like stepping into a too-warm bath. Now, it feels just like the hint of warmth against her hand, uniquely Ayda and not at all painful. (Which is also uniquely Ayda, to never freak Fig out even when she's in this shitty mood.)

"So," Ayda says. "I was in Leviathan, as I needed to--well, still need to, I've merely decided the task isn't as important--I'm getting sidetracked."

"Yeah," Fig says, and when Ayda stiffens, says, "Not bad! Not a bad thing! It's cute."

"Oh," Ayda says. "I--sorry," and bursts into tears again. Fig wipes them away, kisses her cheek just 'cause she can, kisses the other one because she can feel Ayda's face get even warmer.

"No worries," Fig says, too late, because she's not--this is still new to her. "So what's going on?"

"As you know, I am a divination wizard, though not an Oracle like Adaine, our best friend." Fig nods. "But sometimes my dreams have--not prophecies, but looks into the present, or even occasionally the past."

"Okay," Fig says. "Is there, like, a slumbering demon lord underneath Mordred?"

"No," Ayda says. "I asked a ranger I know in Leviathan to check before he left on a journey to Sylvaire. Unrelated to the Nightmare King. I checked, just to be sure, because I am sure none of us want to deal with that again."

"Mmhm," Fig says, willing herself to keep breathing slow and easy and not tense up like she wants to. It's just Ayda talking about preventing further Nightmare King stuff. The Nightmare King doesn't even exist anymore, they're Cassandra, they're cool. "So, uh, what'd you see in your dream?"

"You," Ayda says. "That isn't uncommon. I dream of you often. You're in more of my dreams than not. Is that strange? Should I not have said that?"

"Not strange," Fig says, sure her cheeks are red rather than pink. "Just--I'm flustered, okay, give me a second."

Ayda nods at her, not smiling but face relaxed in a way that suggests the same feeling. Fig grabs her hand just to ground herself, squeezes it once. There's a moment before Ayda squeezes it back, like she's thinking about whether it's the right thing to do.

"Totally normal," Fig says, just in case.

"Good," Ayda says with one long exhale. "I was worried."

"You know, it doesn't matter to me if what you do is 'normal'," Fig says. "I like you whether what you do is normal or not!"

Ayda nods. "I want to finish my thought, but after that I want to kiss you. That was the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"You could kiss me and then finish the thought?"

"I would forget," Ayda says, like she doesn't remember everything, like Fig is enough to distract her. Fig can't quite meet her gaze, then, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. She squeezes her hand again. Ayda squeezes back immediately. "Um. I'm distracting myself. What was I talking about?"

"Your dream."

"Right. Thank you, Fig. I dreamed about you, and I think it may have been--it was as though I was standing at your bedside. I know it was a dream and not sleepwalking, because I can't actually stand in your room--it's too short and I don't want to set your house on fire. But you seemed upset, and while I don't know if that was real or a dream or not, I couldn't--I couldn't just sit in my room and Leviathan without checking."

"Oh," Fig says. "Um. I'm fine."

"Hm," Ayda says. "You know, you were the one who told me that if people say they're fine, it very rarely means they're fine. I don't understand the logic of it at all, but I trust your insight."

"It's stupid," Fig says, and then, in a twist, bursts into tears herself. "God. It's stupid, I don't even know why I'm upset? Like, it's literally nothing, nothing is going on, I'm just dumb--"

"You are not dumb," Ayda says, and Fig hates herself all the more for the panic she can hear in her voice. "You have taught me so much, and if it matters to you, then it's not stupid. Fig?"

"Yeah," Fig says, voice embarrassingly choked up. She clears her throat as best she can, which isn't very well, since she's still actively crying. "Yeah, I know."

"I don't know what you know," Ayda says. "But I know that when I cry, you wipe my tears away, and I'm going to do the same for you, unless you want to stop me, in which case I won't."

Fig doesn't move, lets Ayda wipe away her tears even though it makes her want to cry more, someone being nice to her right now. "Thanks."

"Any time," Ayda says with the weight of a promise and not at all like the platitude most people would mean. "Do you want to talk about it? It's okay if you don't. I often don't want to talk about the things I'm going through when I'm still going through them."

"I don't," Fig says, because the idea of explaining the nightmare and Mordred and her old house being destroyed and feeling so, so unmoored and stuck all at once makes her want to tear her own hair out. "I don't--you don't need to stay. I'll be okay. If I'm not--if I can't talk about it, you don't need to stay."

"I don't need to stay," Ayda says, carefully, and Fig grips her hand tighter without consciously meaning to. "But I'd like to. If I can."

"I meant it when I said always," Fig says, still not looking at Ayda because she can't.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yeah," Fig says. "I always want you to stay."

Jawbone walks into the room on his way into the kitchen, sees two teenagers holding hands and crying and slightly-burning his couch, and decides he can just get water from the bathroom instead of the kitchen. He's not one to interrupt a moment.

[thedistortionwrites]

storms

Happy Taako Tuesday!! Take this fic!!

Takes place sometime after murder on the Rockport Limited!!

(the title for my google doc was literally “storms /neg” if you want an idea of this story’s contents.)

As always, please feel free to leave a request with someone from any of the taz campaigns (minus grad, since I’m not quite finished listening to it yet), and a prompt for me to do!

~~

Taako’s ears flatten back against his head as another quiet rumble shakes through the room, and he pulls the blanket tighter around himself as he resists the urge to cast Silence.

He’s not even sure if Merle and Magnus would be able to hear the thunder yet, given how quiet it is, but he doesn’t want to give them any ammo to use against him, so he steadies himself and pulls out a book to read.

He can’t actually remember being scared of storms as a child, even with the lack of shelter he’d had. It wasn’t too bad, with him and… whatever caravan he must’ve been staying with at the time huddled around the warmth of a fire. Like- it obviously wasn’t great, but he can’t seem to think of a storm that wasn’t spent curled up next to someone by a fire.

He grimaces as he feels a headache creeping up on him, and turns his attention somewhere else.

Looking out the window, he feels an increasing amount of dread, especially after whatever that creepy eye thing was at the Midsummer Solstice. Clouds swirl in the air as the wind pushed them by, and they’re only getting darker, so he’s not too hopeful about the storm passing them by anytime soon.

He manages to busy himself with a book for a few minutes, but nearly throws it across the room as another rumble of thunder goes through the building.

Of course, with his luck, that’s exactly when Magnus walks in, looking equally stressed as he probably does.

“Taako?” He calls out into the dark room as he walks in, hearing the thump of the wood against the table. “You in here?”

“Yeah,” He calls back, remembering human's lack of darkvision and lighting up the room with a flick of his hand. Relaxing as color comes flooding back into the room, he turns back to Magnus. “You good there, Maggie? You look a little freaked out, my man.”

Turning away from Taako, Magnus wrings his hands together and looks at the window. His already uncomfortable expression darkens further as he watches the clouds pass.

“I’m-” He flinches as another rumble goes through the room, hand flying to the sword on his back and Taako’s inches towards his wand. “I’m fine. Just not a huge fan of storms.”

Magnus’ eyes widen as he realizes that he just admitted his fear of storms to Taako, of all people, and braces for the jokes he’s certain are coming his way.

After a few seconds of silence, he slowly squints his eyes back open- when had he closed them?- and turns back towards Taako, who, for the first time Magnus can remember seeing, actually looks a bit sympathetic towards his position.

Sighing, Taako picks up his wand and twirls it in his fingers. “I suppose I could burn a spell slot for you,” He says, voice full of false annoyance. “I need to practice silence more, anyways.”

“What? Oh! Taako, that's really not neces-” Magnus stops again as another wave of thunder rolls over them, and flinches, barely catching the way Taako does as well out of the corner of his eye.

Oh, Magnus thinks, looking at the nest of blankets Taako has made around himself. “Oh,” Magnus echoes his thoughts aloud, voice barely making a whisper. His eyes focus closer on Taako now, looking over his disheveled state. “I- I mean, I’d like that, if you don’t mind? Thank you, Taako.”

“Natch,” Taako turns and begins casting, barely contained relief on his face, and sends one more look towards Magnus, who has his mouth slightly open, like he’s about to say something. “Speak now or forever hold your peace, my man.”

“I don’t think that’s how that phrase is meant-” His voice is cut off as magic fills the air, and sees Taako laughing silently. Crossing his arms, he glares at Taako, who just smirks and pats the couch next to him.

[spiltscribbles]

First Lines In Your Past 20 FICs

~Notes: I was tagged by the absolutely gorgeous babes @lunapwrites and @stagecrime!!!!! Thank you both so much<3 <3 

Lol doing this made me realize quite a few things, like first-- I’m really obsessed with Lily Evans lmfao. I also need to not be so fucking extra in my titles, sigh XS

Things You Said That I Couldn’t Understand  »  Sirius realizes on an ordinary Tuesday morning as he spills the chocolate chips into the batter of the first batch of flapjacks, that he and his husband of over a decade haven’t had a date night for three months.  |  Wolfstar

In Your Arms  »  Remus has always been the analytical sort  |  Wolfstar

All Out Of Sorts  »  Remus pads softly into his and Sirius’s room, a mug of steaming Darjeeling in hand and clad only in a his robe as he gazes longingly at the sleeping form of his partner for nearing on three years now.   |  Wolfstar

Love Is Not A Victory March  »  The Lion’s just won their third game in a row for the season, which of course dictates that the team celebrates with an after party at the Prewett’s house while their parents are off visiting their older sister and her new born up north in Albany.  |  Wolfstar

I Carry Your Heart With Me  »  There’s muffled laughter that reverberates through the door, drown out by the playlist Pez had queued up as soon as they all had clambered into Alex’s room to begin getting prepared for the wedding of the century.  |  Firstprince

Worth It  »  Sirius silently reminds himself that he in fact likes Lily, he thinks she’s a total knock out and is happy that his brother is finally getting to date the girl of his dreams.  |  Wolfstar

Things You Said At 4:00am  »  Slowly, Sirius blinks open his sleep deprived eyes  and relishes in the warmth emanating from their hearth like a caressing hand.  |  Wolfstar

Trying To Fight The Seasons, Trying To Find Some Meaning  »  Sirius truly isn’t surprised that the first time Lily Evans steps into his newly inherited flat on the first day of Christmas hols of their seventh year, she only wrinkles her nose in that particularly withering way of hers.  |  Wolfstar

Odds On Us  »  Focus. All Remus needs to do is focus!  |  Wolfstar 

The Spoken On The Edge Of The Unspoken  »  Henry’s always been a man of planning, of studying and plotting and needling. Nothing but a swot in Pez’s opinion but that doesn’t matter.  |  Firstprince

The One With The Soulmate  »  “You are seriously insatiable tonight,” Remus rebukes, swatting Sirius’s hand away from where he was eagerly grabbing at his arse for another round of fun.  |  Wolfstar

Tis The Damn Season  »  Remus focuses on the chill that’s beginning to frost the window of the quaint, Edinburgh coffee shop that’s tucked into a dark corner of the large block of the tube station, appreciating the glittering blankets of snow coating the ground and the melodic holiday tunes playing from above.  |  Wolfstar

Something Permanent  »  Sirius may be in the midst of swigging down his third flute of wine for the night but he’s still gut enough wits about him to plot out an elaborate and mutinous murder, namely directed towards the redheaded harpy that goes by Lily in the light of day.  |  Wolfstar

Things You Said With The TV Muted  »  Sirius has never been one for silence.  |  Wolfstar 

Beneath A Million Stars, There's No Reason To Pretend  »  The paint’s chipped on the far side of the wall to Ronan’s left.  |  Pynch

Head’s In The Clouds, But My Gravity’s Centered  »  “You are absolutely the worst person I know,” Adam, soaked and shivering, grouses as he sheds off his jacket and boots, tossing them to the side in the laundry hamper Gansey had bought Ronan as a housewarming gift once he’d permanently moved into The Barns a few weeks ago.  |  Pynch

I’ll Breathe You In, If You Hold Me Close  »  It’s a typical Tuesday afternoon, which means that Sirius is smoking a messily wrapped joint that James had just handed over and they’re playing a round of pool in the lounge of the Grimmauld, one of the numerous hotels owned by the Blacks.  »  Wolfstar

Cause He Knows It’s All Worth While  »  Henry loves his mother most like this.  |  Firstprince

I Tried Writing Your Name In The Rain, But It Never Came, So I Used The Sun Instead  »  Don’t get Remus wrong. He loves his friends, he does! Loves them to the moon and back in fact. They’re his people, his favorite part of everyday, his found family. He’d do anything for them, no questions asked.  |  Wolfstar

Come Back, Even As A Shadow, Even As A Dream  »  The first thing Alex processes when he comes too is the throbbing pain that’s pulsing in his head, the second is the abrasively florescent light of the room, and the third is a pair of cornflower eyes that are staring at him with such longing that it borders on scary. |  Firstprince

~Notes: TBH I’ve got a pretty shitty head cold so IDK names rn, but I texted @omgcmere last night to do this challenge when I tag her, so if she ignores me now it’ll be public and she will feel shamed :P

[sadieyuki]

The 118 Discord Server - 9-1-1 Bingo 2021

All of these works were completed for @911bingo.

Quick Look:

Take My Breath Away A Friend Like Me The Case Against Tuesdays Weightless Your Light Burning Bright Sharing Atlas's Burden Schrödinger's Love Confession It Feels Effortless Remembering How to Breath

Bingo Squares and Fic Descriptions:

Title: Take My Breath Away Pairing: Buddie Bingo Square: I'm dying and I'm confessing my love for you Chapters: 1/1 Rating/Warnings: GA / none Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33060847 Summary: “I can’t die without telling you that I love you.” A pin could’ve dropped in the silence that followed and it would’ve blown out the eardrums of everyone in the vicinity. Well, it would have if not for the din of the bar around them. It actually wasn’t all that quiet now that Eddie thought about it. Eddie could feel the gaze of everyone on him, waiting for him to respond to Buck’s declaration. Eddie truly didn’t understand how the night had gotten to this moment in time.

Title: A Friend Like Me Pairing: pre-Buddie Bingo Square: Stalker!AU Chapters: 1/1 Rating/Warnings: M / Stalking, blood, violence Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32729077 Summary: When some of Buck's possessions begin to go missing, at first he assumes that Eddie is pulling an elaborate prank on him. After all, the alternative is something he really doesn't want to think about. Items disappearing from his work locker? Fine. Annoying, but fine. Items disappearing from his apartment? Less fine...

Title: The Case Against Tuesdays Pairing: Buddie Bingo Square: Hostage Situation Chapters: 1/1 Rating/Warnings: M / Violence, bad touch, threats of non-con Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32790769 Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Monday wasn’t the absolute worst day of the week. Sure, an impressive amount of crazy calls tended to happen on Monday, but it was hardly the worst day of the week. No, Buck knew better. Tuesdays were the true days of hell. And when Buck found himself on the floor of the firehouse with a boot in his back and a gun pointed at him early that Tuesday morning, it was only more evidence towards proving him right.

Title: Weightless Pairing: Russley Bingo Square: Paramedic!Josh Chapters: 1/1 Rating/Warnings: T / none Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32437429 Summary: Josh wasn't sure if it was because of his out-of-control crush or if he was simply a man who could appreciate the finer things in life. Either way, Buck was going to be the death of him. And if Hen could stop laughing at his impending death, that would be great. . Or, an Ode to Buck's Biceps (and overall workout routine).

Title: Your Light Burning Bright Pairing: Buck/Jim Street (SWAT) Bingo Square: Free Space Chapters: 1/1 Rating/Warnings: GA / none Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32909497 Summary: It had been a week and Jim was still haunted by the scene of the fire truck bombing. He had nightmares where the screams of that trapped firefighter echoed in his head, where his heart physically ached when no one had been able to step forward and help him. He'd only been able to listen and watch, and he hated it. Jim had tried to get passed it, tried to handle it like he would any other tough case, but it wouldn't leave his mind. The only thing left to try was to go to the hospital and see for himself that Evan Buckley was safe and sound.

Title: Sharing Atlas’s Burden Pairing: pre-Ryderley (Grace/Judd/Buck) Bingo Square: “I’m sorry I’m not what you expected me to be” Chapters: 1/1 Rating/Warnings: T / panic attack, talking through Buck’s canon trauma Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33738199 Summary: When Evan Buckley arrived in Austin, Texas to join the 126, Judd knew the man would be bringing a fair amount of baggage with him. After all, Judd remembered watching the firetruck bombing on national news when it happened, and Owen had alluded to something happening with his old team that led to a lawsuit and...something that he wasn't willing to pry into yet. When Buck woke up from a nightmare in the bunk room after 3am, Judd decided it was long overdue for someone to step up and help him carry the load.

Title: Schrödinger's Love Confession Pairing: one-sided Buddie (as far as Buck knows), one-sided May/OFC (as far as May knows) Bingo Square: Un/Requited Love Chapters: 1/1 Rating/Warnings: GA / none Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33547846 Summary: “If I confront you about something, can you hold on to your denial until I tell you why I brought it up? I need advice.” Buck raised an eyebrow at her, swallowing his bite of crepe and raising his mimosa glass tentatively. “Okay...” “I know you’re in love with Eddie.” . Or, Buck and May bond over mutual unrequited loves that may or may not actually be unrequited if they could just work up the courage to say something about it.

Title: It Feels Effortless (sequel to 'Weightless') Pairing: Russley Bingo Square: "Do you trust me?" Chapters: 1/1 Rating/Warnings: GA / none Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32888830 Summary: “Do you trust me?” Buck raised a skeptical eye in his direction. “Not when you ask like that,” he said, eyes boring into Josh’s in an attempt to figure out what he had planned.

Title: Remembering How to Breathe Pairing: gen Bingo Square: Sick!AU Chapters: 1/1 Rating/Warnings: T / COVID-19, panic attack Link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32562448 Summary: Buck clicked the link to get his test result from two days ago, ready to screenshot it and send it to Bobby for documentation. Positive Buck blinked, then promptly closed the screen and went back to his email, and opened the link again. . Or, Buck gets the results back from a routine test and promptly spirals.