#but like it's canon era so there's always angst in the distance....

[starlitscars]

Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state. 

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life. 

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too  stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him. 

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now. 

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for. 

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva. 

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you. 

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt. 

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubles thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer. 

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.  

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road. 

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap. 

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your seat, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth. 

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share. 

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..." 

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He is still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knows he wants an eternity with you. 

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while – maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world. 

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time. 

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that. 

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more. 

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly. 

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons. 

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sende it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings. 

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He think that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

[raimoka]

— " I WANNA SING A SONG THAT'D JUST BE OURS "

｡ ㅤꕤ ㅤ PAIRING: various bsd men & reader.

SYNOPSIS: an objective study of how bsd men love you as whole.

tags ➜ dark era spoilers, stormbringer spoilers, literature references, poetry references, dazai needs a hug, mythology references, nikolai also needs a hug, all of the people listed here needs a hug, has some aspects of angst but generally a fluff, lowercase as always. ‹𝟹

⋆ author's notes: i am so sorry for how short the chuuya one is, i did him so bad.

send an order!! → guide ❀ flowers ←

୨♡୧ dazai osamu (ft. odasaku)

dazai loves you avoidantly.

although he craves your love, the moment he recieves anything resembling it, the nausea builds in his stomach. he shuts down and puts distance between the two of you, running away when you give him what he knows is healthy. he keeps himself in a certain gap, feeling a sense of queasiness upon the exposure and vulnerability.

it wasn't like he loathed the sensation. he just felt nauseated from receiving something that wasn't manifested through manipulation, anger, or fear. he had shown people affection but never did someone show their fondness for him so openly; the softness you were displaying towards him was too much unfamiliar to him.

he didn't know how to act whenever you were being so affectionate towards him, it brought him a sudden feeling of intense warmth engulfing his chest — his fingers would twitch, entangling themselves within the locks of your hair — he didn't know how to react to it thus he would always cover up his tensed up reactions as you pepper kisses all around his face, soft laughters eliciting from you. he knew he didn't deserve your affection, after all, he was no living man, or a celibate son of christ. he was merely an imbecile, a sordid creation of vacantness, without any preacher of a blest, canonical jurisdiction

he's extremely hesitant to pull you closer to himself — afraid that you too will slip through his fingers like sand yet stick to his skin like odasaku. it was always like that, the people dazai didn't want to lose will always be lost. dazai knew it would be too selfish of him to indulge any further to his emotions and cause you misfortune.

but perhaps, he was slightly fond of being selfish too. your skin radiated warmth that seethed into his bitterly cold skin, enveloping himself with warmthness. the sensation of his skin that was often so frigid to the point it reminded himself he was as cold as a rotting corpse being covered with mellowness made him remember he was also human.

so for once, he finally allows himself to indulge in your affection.

୨♡୧ chuuya nakahara (ft. the flags)

chuuya loves you protectively.

every single thing chuuya held dear bid farewell to this universe—the flags, detective murase and other more—and due to that, he often carried an lingering feeling of distress towards you. he consistently was worried at the thought of one day finding you plastered with ichor, eyes dull and lifeless.

he would often scold you whenever you would injure yourself, whether accidentally or not, it didn't matter, you would face strings of lecture from him. he's always swift to notice any sorts of wounds enveloping your skin.

he knew he was overdoing it, however, he couldn't contain himself, he was merely worried but he knew he was beginning to bother you thus he would attempt to reassure himself further to decrease his worriness.

୨♡୧ nikolai gogol

nikolai loves you like how icarus loves the sun.

icarus had always been curious about the sun, the radiant orb often emitted a vivid light for centuries, it shines brightly yet it was alone. he desired to feel it with the tip of his fingertips, to learn more about the coruscation in spite of all the warnings thus he soared up higher to take closer look was for what he yearned, to to caress the passion of his inquisitiveness.

nikolai loved you a little too much, a little too close. his love for you was similar to icarus's love, however, the only contrast was that nikolai oughted to distance himself to you whilst icarus longed to explore his desire more.

nikolai had always wished to be free from his emotions, going as far as to ruin his soul entirely until he is considered inhuman, yet there was one thing he couldn't withdraw himself; you.

he loathed it, his love towards you was vigorous and unerasable. he wanted to scrub off all the glimpses of fondness he felt for you, he detested it. he pined the uplift curl of your lips, your face, your voice, your touch off his mind. he wanted to be free from you, he knew better than anyone else that he was asking for too much, nevertheless, he had always been a man who desired for something beyond capable.

nikolai loves you so much, he wanted to pierce through the soft flesh of yours with a keen knife over and over again until your skin was tainted with crimson red and devoid of life, he coveted to render you entirely under the sod before you could scorch him fully just like how the sun burned icarus.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ taglists are open everytime.

2024 © reposts are prohibited with/without permission... plagiarism is prohibited. don’t translate my work without my permission. i will take measures of reporting you. reposts and likes are appreciated.

[joelsleftknee]

the earth from a distance (see how it shines)

Part 1

Pairing: Joel Miller!Reader | Post-outbreak/Jackson Era

WC: 1.9k

Multiple part series: Series Masterlist

Content Warnings: Canon divergent obvi cause Joel doesn’t go golfing in this one, ANGST ANGST ANGST (literally wrote this cause there’s not enough agnst to read out there), age gap, reader has hair and is shorter than Joel but no physical descriptions other than that, cute winter romance, bookworm reader, eventual fluff, eventual hurt/comfort.

Joel turned over a worn copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands before putting it back on the shelf. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, eyeing the cracked spines of the books flanking him, replaying Maria’s advice in his head telling him to go check out the new library and pick a good book to curl up with for the winter. Before the outbreak, he never was much of a reader, other than a few self-help books here and there—sort of second-nature for the entrepreneurial, single dad.

With the endless amounts of downtime and sudden luxury of boredom of small town life in Jackson, Maria chided him to find a new hobby. Granted, he was running out of ideas for figurines to carve and chord progressions to strum. But he knew that, more than anything, Maria felt bad for him. And if there was one thing his bruised heart could not handle was pity. So here he was, if only to convince his sister-in-law that he was perfectly capable of going out into town (read: the postal-shop-turned-library about, at most, 70 feet from his home).

“Hello! How can I help you?”

Joel turned on his heels, peering over the shelf that reached just past his chin.

You sat behind a small wooden desk—one he’d built a while back, he realized, and traded in exchange for a camera and a very much expired roll of film that he was yet to use, in fear that he would waste it. In Jackson’s bartering system, goods made their way around the small population fairly easy, so he was not surprised to see his desk had found a new home.

Joel blinked then, gaze catching on the bright smile stretched across your lips. You were leaning forward, forearms braced on the desk surface as though you were excited to see someone come in. Your face was not exactly familiar, so he wondered if you’d just moved into Jackson or if he had been as unsociable as Tommy argued he was. “Always holed up in your home, brother. Live a little,” the younger Miller would say every time Joel turned down an invitation to one of the many town events that the City Council—led by Maria—put on like, at this point, every single weekend.

“No,” he said finally, his pause so long and the sounds of his voice thick enough that he had to clear his throat in hopes to ease the awkwardness. “No, I’m all set, but thank you.” He gave you a nod, his eyes meeting your bright gaze before casting down to the floor

“All right, just let me know if anything comes up,” you said, your voice melodious in a way that reminded him of hot summers by the lake under the Texan sun. He glanced at you again, but your eyes were now trained on the book opened before you. So he took advantage of that moment to take you in.

You were young, he concluded at the sight of your vibrant skin and the faint seemingly evergreen smile that hadn’t been weathered off your face yet.

And—your lips. The shape of them was… enthralling. In the same way that a ripe fruit on the highest branch of a tree is. And these days, fruit was scarce. In the Apocalypse. And at the brink of winter.

“Actually,” Joel muttered before repeating the word again, slightly louder. “Yes.”

You looked up at him, unaware he had been eyeing you like a man stranded on a desert island coming across an oasis. Your head tilted to the side, as if in confusion.

“I do need help, I mean. With choosing a book,” he added quickly, realizing that perhaps he had been staring at you longer than he estimated. The thought didn’t sit well, embarrassment roiling in his stomach. He was acting like a lonely old man.

Which was accurate, he supposed. Though his pride refuses to admit it.

He resisted the urge to exit the room altogether in shame, only because you stood up with what had to be the loveliest smile he had seen in decades. Coming around the desk—his desk—you walked over to him.

Cradled between the two bookshelves flanking you, you stood before him, clad in a forest green cardigan that most definitely had been knitted from the wool of the sheep in Jackson.

“So,” you started, waving your hands to encompass the old tomes, “what kind of book are you looking for?” You looked up at him, and that was when he realized that you were short. Or at least shorter than him.

Joel shifted on his feet. “Well…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll be honest with ya. I don’t know much ‘bout books.”

Goodness. Lame. He was embarrassing himself. He sounded like he learned how to speak yesterday. Like he learned what a book was today.

But you giggled, and the sound made something jump inside his chest. “No worries, I’ll be delighted to help you choose something good.” You turned to one of the shelves, adding, “As you can see, our collection is still rather small. It’s difficult to find books. Especially ones that haven’t been absolutely destroyed by the elements.”

He nodded, racking his brain for something to say but coming up blank.

Leave. He needed to leave. What was he doing?

He gulped, the words “Actually, I’m good—I’ll just head out” about to leave his lips when you said, “You’re Joel Miller.”

It wasn’t a question. In fact, it was a reminder. A reminder that though he did not know you, you knew him. And that meant you must know what type of person he was, too.

No one in Jackson dared crossed him, and no one actually expressed outright dislike for him. Instead, it was avoidance. People avoided him in the way one avoids the scary and cryptic next-door-neighbor who might or might not have spent the past twenty years in prison. Except he actually was the scary neighbor, he supposed. He carried the weight of the sins that had kept him alive for the past two decades like a stone around his neck.

He was sure you’d heard of those sins already.

“That I am,” he said, with a nod so solemn that it almost looked like he was confessing a crime.

Regardless, you still smiled. “It’s great to finally meet you.” Your index finger ran over the spines of the books as you scanned the titles, searching. “I’ve heard great things about you.”

Joel stiffened, jaw setting.

“I’m friends with Maria,” you continued. “She’s been so sweet, helping me set this place up. It’s like a dream.” Your eyes crinkled at the corners. “And she’s mentioned you a few times. She said you might stop by, looking for your next read. Something to curl up with when it’s cold outside, specifically.” Your eyebrows raised briefly, attention snagged by one of the titles, before resuming your search. “She also said you haven’t read much in a while. And that Ellie—your daughter. She’s been the only one to get you to read anything lately. And they’re, in Maria’s words, ““just silly books about space.””

He tilted his head. “Did she also tell you my blood type?”

He panicked for a second, thinking the joke might’ve come off the wrong way, but your shoulders shook in a delighted chuckle. He wasn’t able to stop the small smile that twitched the corner of his lips.

“She didn’t, but she did say you were an exceptionally skilled patrolman.” You peered at him from the corner of your eye. “And that perhaps we could strike a deal.”

You knelt down on the floor to search the lower levels of the shelf.

“A deal?” Joel’s gaze was transfixed on the top of your head, on the lovely color and texture of your hair.

“Yes,” you said, “you find books for me on patrol, and I help you repair some of your clothes.” Joel’s brow furrowed before you added, “Maria also mentioned you needed to sew some buttons back on some shirts, fix some rips, and do other modifications.” You chuckled nervously. “I promise I’m not a stalker. And neither is Maria. She’s just a great listener. And very fond of you.”

Joel found himself smiling at that. “Well, she ain’t wrong. I do need those things.” He watched your eyes and smile widen as your finger stopped on the spine of a book.

As you pulled it out of the shelf and rose on your feet, you extended him a hand. “Deal, then?��

He blinked.

You wanted to shake his hand. He couldn’t move for a second, but he managed to still his stupid nerves, wrapping his large, calloused fingers around your soft, delicate hand. His breath hitched in his throat at the brief soft touch, and he let go before making it worse.

“Deal,” he breathed.

You handed him the book, the dust jacket somehow decently persevered but now guarded in transparent plastic. You read the title.

The Fellowship of the Ring.

“The Lord of the Rings?” Joel asked, sounding a bit surprised.

You grimaced. “Have you already read it before?”

“No,” he clarified quickly. “I’ve heard of it. Never read it.” His lips curved upward, involuntarily. “Thank you for your help…” he said, and heat crept up his neck in that moment as he came up short and realized he never asked you for your name.

So he did, with a quick apology for not asking earlier, which you waved off under the pretense that “it’s not like I would ever mind being known as the girl who runs the library.”

When you said your name, it made sense. It sounded as bright as you. As though your name were the name of an unknown, most beautiful color, in the same way that an orange tastes just like the color orange.

He followed you to the front desk, where you sat again. Pushing the book you had been reading aside, you opened a notebook that was once ruled, but the blue ink was almost invisible by now.

You wrote down his name, next to today’s date, and asked him to sign it.

His fingers brushed yours when you handed him the pen, and he scolded himself for what felt like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes for the shudder that went down his spine.

His signature was just his name, in neat but surely not elegant handwriting. Archaic and unimpressive, much like him. And nothing like you. Young and like the sun.

“All right, Joel,” you said, snapping him from his self-deprecation. “You get the book for two weeks. So if Tommy’s forecast is right, we’re getting our first now before then. Hopefully you’ll find the story one worth curling up with when it’s all white and freezing outside.”

Joel met your eyes again, clutching the book against his abdomen. He couldn’t resist—his lips mimicked your smile, albeit more reserved.

With a nod, he said, “Thank your for your help.” Reluctantly, he took a step back, still facing you. “Stay warm, darlin’,” he said without meaning to.

“You as well,” you replied, shock briefly dancing across your eyes at what he called you. You offered him a delicate flutter of your fingers as a goodbye wave that made his heart lurch in his throat.

He finally turned to leave, eyes fixed ahead.

The doorbell mocked him as he exited the small building, his boots stepping into the dirt street as he inhaled a mouthful of cold air.

As he walked the few dozen steps to his house, mind addled by the sound of your voice, the shape of your lips, and the softness of your skin, he knew. In his old, weathered heart, he knew.

He was done for.

[zmediaoutlet]

Survey results time.

At time of downloading the data we got just over 300 responses, which is not bad for a survey that was long and complicated to take! I'm sure my shamelessness helped. Being a survey for a specific crowd, we also didn't get anyone (as far as I could tell) taking the survey in bad faith, which is a legit surprise. Special shout-out to the several people who, when asked to write literally anything to say they understood what was going on, wrote "literally anything"; additional shout-out to the person who wrote "penus and hole" (sic). You get it, anonymous person.

I'm going to share the top results for the questions here, but I'll also include the raw data as a sheet at the end in case anyone wants to actually go through it with a fine-tooth comb. This is not a survey where cute pie charts or graphs would be useful or readable, so get ready for some sweet-ass numbers:

Story Genre

Unsurprisingly, our leaderboard for most favorite story genre in the 'Anytime!' category is as follows:

Hurt/comfort (153 votes)

Angst (142 votes)

PWP (139 votes)

We just like the guys to get the shit beaten out of them, angstily, and then they can feel better by jerking off about it. The ideal evening.

The big loser in genre, with 34 buds flat out saying "not for me", was Dark!fic. That said, Dark!fic also got 112 votes (third highest) for "has to be JUST right," so we can probably take from there that while as a group we don't hate dark content, we have pretty strict definitions for a) what counts as dark, and b) what kind of dark we're willing to take.

Gencest/gen was arguably the most 'eh, idk?' of the genres, with respectable showings in every category from Anytime to No; most people don't hate it, but people aren't really seeking it out either. It's definitely There.

Story Setting

The winner of most 'Anytime!' votes for story setting is close to my heart; the podium is:

Bunker era (142 votes)

Canon-close, codas, etc (129 votes)

Pre-series/weechesters (126 votes)

It feels good to know that canon is on our side. This may help explain why various alternate universe settings didn't do so hot with the respondents -- the least fave according to this survey is an age!swap AU, followed by a raised apart!AU. Writers who are making Sam the big brother who lives in Cleveland while baby Dean lives in Seattle, you keep living your truth, but readers are rearing back.

That being said, while Canon Divergence isn't an overall winner, it has a full 149 votes in the 'Dig it' category; so, while we may generally prefer canon, we're willing to be led on a garden path away from it. We just want canon to be within shouting distance, at least.

Canonical Character Variants

Here's where the survey gets more complex. I've always been interested in how and why people are fandoming about things, and simple 'yes/no' surveys rarely dig into that meat. The point of the superego/ego/id separation is to really interrogate -- hey, do you like to read about (for example) soulless!Sam because you find it interesting on a high-minded level, or because your heart-strings are getting tugged even if you think it's kinda dumb, or just because it makes you so hornt-up you can't think straight? All are valid, and all are possible simultaneously, but it's interesting to prod at to see how the interest is working. You might also just be like, eh, it's fine, or GOD, STOP, and that's fine too. So, with all that said:

Superego winners:

demon powers!Sam (202 votes)

soulless!Sam (177 votes)

blood addict!Sam (160 votes)

Y'all like to really brain about how Sam is fucked up. I get it.

Ego winners:

Trials of Hell!Sam (186 votes)

blood addict!Sam (180 votes)

demon powers!Sam (161 votes)

Still all Sam, and no surprise that his saintly pale sleeplessness is winning the heartstrings battle.

Id winners:

demon!Dean (205 votes)

demon powers!Sam (175 votes)

blood addict!Sam (165 votes)

Again, no surprise: fandom girlies (gn) love their bad boys, lol. Soulless snuck in at #4 here with 163, presumably because working out still wearing a belt was juuuust dorky enough to kick him off the podium; #5 was Smith & Wesson at 162, probably because if they'd been left in that AU for ten more minutes they would have been fucking over the top of Dean Smith's desk. Glad we're all on the same page, there.

The nopes here were an interesting mix. In the full-on No Thank You category we had Michael!Dean and Gadreel!Sam (with 52 and 53 votes respectively) -- it would be interesting to know if that was due to dread of the storyline specifically, or just how No Bad Wrong it felt to have it happening. These two also led the 'meh' category, although they were joined on the podium of bad by Endverse!Dean (128 Meh votes), which frankly shocked me. Y'all aren't into his thigh holster? C'mon now. Sure, he murders his friends without compunction, but -- thigh holster!

Story Tropes

These ones were fascinatingly all over the place, which is exactly why I wanted to do this. Going to just run down the S/E/I podiums real quick, then 'Hard sell', then No --

Superego winners:

Outsider!POV (211)

Someone Finds Out (191)

Mental health issues (190)

Ego winners:

Mutual pining (252)

First time (242) AND Sick/injured (242)

First time in a long time (235)

Id winners:

Jealousy/possessiveness (224)

First time (218)

First time in a long time (180)

Now, part of what's interesting about these is how they fall off in other categories. Outsider POV wins handily at Superego with 211, but then drops all the way down to 92 votes at Id -- which isn't nothing, but clearly it's preferred to have a heckin' think about how other people view the incest relationship, rather than thinking it's just So Hot that people might. Similarly, while people do think it's so so hot for one brother or the other (or both!) to be possessive at 224 votes, when it comes to the superego that drops right down to 134 votes, presumably as the brain wakes up and goes RED FLAG!

Entering the land of no thank you, we shall have two anti-podiums:

Real hard sell:

Infidelity (127)

magic/powers!Dean (125)

Unrequited/no relationship upgrade (110) AND "Carver Edlund" fandom

This is a much more mixed bag. Infidelity and Unrequited are no surprise here, because it Feels Bad, Man; magic!Dean also not really a surprise, given that most of our respondents prefer being closer to canon, and Dean is very much our mundane buddy in the show as presented. (A delightful buddy, but a distinctly nonmagical one.) Carver Edlund fandom makes me laugh mostly because it's such a bananas thing to exist in the show. Sam and Dean reading big bang fics about each other? Collectively we just... don't know what to do with that. Weird.

Squick/No/Maybe one exception:

Permanent character death (140)

Infidelity (108)

Eating disorders (102)

Again, no surprise in the anti-winners of 1 or 2 here, but number 3 surprised me, personally. ED fic used to be a pretty big wedge of common tropes that people would seek out. Perhaps it's gotten less popular over the years? Or perhaps just that the people who like it REALLY like it and so chat about it out loud, while those who don't quietly bury it in sand, lo as a cat does with their leavings.

Most extreme delta in 'general interest' (whether that be S,E, or I) to 'ehh' (whether that be Hard Sell or Squick) is first time. Y'all loooove your first time.

Sexy Tropes, Vol. 1

This is where I really wanted to know if people could pull apart their interests between brain and heart and guts. Hopefully people were honest, as requested. Some of them we know are slight liar answers, because the hits on AO3 tell a story that can't be refuted -- nevertheless, here's what people were willing to admit to.

Bulletproof kink/will read any version:

Bedsharing (158)

Incest kink (139)

Size kink (133)

your friendly neighborhood survey creator is jumping up and down going 'wooo' that size kink made the podium. also I hope everyone understood that incest kink meant, like, indulging in the incest of it all via 'oh you're so totes my brother and i want to suck your dingle for that reason specifically', but I realize that could've been clearer.

Easy sell/you don't have to work hard for me to enjoy:

shameless bottom!Dean stuff (151)

switching (147)

voyeurism (138)

the first one here genuinely surprises me considering what I see getting written most often; is this a case of just not being in the right venn diagrams, or the 'easy sell' just not matching up with what people are being sold? Curiouser and curiouser.

Medium sell/not my fave, but I can see how it appeals:

bad/awkward sex (120)

phone sex (114)

in [drug/alcohol] veritas (110)

edging into awkward town in a few ways here: we don't love these, but we can see how it'd be fun. or not fun, in the case of bad sex.

Hard sell/this is unbelievable or uninteresting so you have to work hard to get me to enjoy it:

always-another-gender!AU (84)

multiple Sams or Deans (73)

genderswap (magic) (72)

so, in general, we prefer to keep the penises around and intact, but just one Sam penis and one Dean penis, please. Here, I'm interested that the volume is much lower than in the top category: maxing out at 84 hard sells compared to 158 bulletproof options means that we're willing to give more of these tropes a chance, even if they're not our faves. How accepting we are!

Squick/no/maybe one exception:

always-another-gender!AU (83)

A/B/O elements (65)

multiple Sams or Deans (51)

strong overlap with the hard sell; and, keeping in mind that people were able to choose multiple options, it's possible that some of those were identical votes. Again, please keep the penises straightforward and only two at a time. A/B/O is interesting here, especially given what we know of how well it does on AO3; while it's a big squick for a lot of people, it also has decently high votes in bulletproof/easy, averaging 82 votes. Mixed bag!

Sexy Tropes Vol. 2, Electric Boogaloo

Bulletproof kink/will read any version:

Possessive/claiming sex (129)

Marking (hickeys/bruising) (116)

Hair pulling (103)

Let's glance back up at the Id winners in the story tropes above, hmm quietly to ourselves, and move on.

Easy sell/you don't have to work hard for me to enjoy:

Marking (hickeys/bruising) (135)

Hair pulling (130)

Possessive/claiming sex (121)

Well, that's boring. So let's expand so as not to be repetitive:

4. Dub-con (116) 5. Dom/sub (113) AND Underage (113) 6. Knifeplay (107)

There we go. Pretty easy to put all of those into one fic, too.

Medium sell/not my fave, but I can see how it appeals:

Blindfolds (128)

Painplay (116)

Shibari/rope play (112)

We're starting to lose interest as accessories come into play. Interesting to compare D/s and its relative success against painplay -- so, tell him what to do, but don't hit him while you're doing it. Fair enough.

Hard sell/this is unbelievable or uninteresting so you have to work hard to get me to enjoy it:

Fucking machines (94)

Vore (80)

Mommy!kink (77)

Entertaining mix here, haha. General feasibility may be rearing its head here. (Also, for my own entertainment: daddy!kink got 67 Hard Sell votes. People generally prefer to keep it as horizontal incest, not vertical incest.)

Squick/no/maybe one exception:

Feederism (164)

Vore (161)

Extreme underage (157)

No surprises here, although some fans of the nibbly variety of wincest may be disappointed by vore's poor placement. Note also that 'extreme' is in the eye of the beholder; we'll leave aside value judgments, as we have for the whole survey, and note that people are not indulging in a version of underage they find to be personally past the line, or at least are not admitting to that.

At a glance, the closest matchup between bulletproof for some and a squick to others is bloodplay, with just 1 vote separating the two categories: 44 bulletproof, 43 squick. Next time someone tries to tell you that 'everyone' likes or doesn't like something, please take it with an entire shaker full of salt.

Dynamic & Position Preferences

I tried to encourage people not to think too hard about this one and just answer on instinct. Who knows if that worked. But here are some overview takes:

Toppy/dominant: Sam takes the lead here, with 69% of respondents being in the 'Love it!' category. Nice. (217 votes)

Dom Dean earned a respectable 52% of 'Love it!' votes (163).

However, I was also interested to check out the inverse --

subby!Sam: 44 'Very no thank' votes (13%) subby!Dean: 27 'Very no thank' votes (8%)

It's interesting to leap way back up and compare that against 'shameless bottom!Dean stuff' doing so well in the rated E categories. Makes you ponder.

Actual sex position: Frequently switching takes the win here, with 61% of the vote (194 votes). Sam always topping edges out if people must choose, with 144 votes; Dean always topping is our lowest choice, with 112.

Service!topping: this is a fairly niche fic type, but it does still exist -- I guess in a world of bottoms someone's got to actually get up and do something, and it is hilariously an almost perfectly even split:

service!top Sam: 50.17% (151 votes) service!top Dean: 51.50% (155 votes)

A healthy percentage of people said they didn't care about these questions either way, and more power to them. However, they were wildly outvoted by those who did.

Multishipping Time

Our final categories are when other people get their grubby hands on Sam or Dean, either canonically(ish) or in our fandom activities.

Canonical relationships for Sam

Jess wins, quelle surprise. :) 161 people Dug It and who can blame them.

Amelia LOSES, shocking no one: 112 people said Fuck That.

Eileen was definitely a mixed bag; her results, in order, were: Meh: 92; Fuck that: 76; Worse than meh: 66; Dug it: 44.

Canonical(ish) relationships for Dean

Note here: it was too unbalanced if we only went with people Dean officially dated. However, the show leaned hard into a few unrequited male relationships for him, which we included here, and no one sent me hate about it so I guess that was fine.

Benny wins the Love It! category with 129 votes, barely edging out Cassie at 122. Benny is best boy, so that fits.

Cas loses with a full 99 Fuck That votes, which is probably what we'd expect from a wincest survey. That said, he also got 93 Dug It votes, so it's a pretty balanced showing.

Poor Lisa sits firmly at Meh with 148 votes. It's not that we hate you, Lisa; we just don't really know what to do with you. Which is pretty much how the relationship went in the show.

Shipping Sam like FedEx

We returned to the S/E/I model for shipping as we did for tropes, because it means something very different to go 'oh sure, I can see how that would be interesting' vs saying 'I want them to fuck rawnasty and I don't care why they're doing it.' Apologies if I left out your favorite side-ship but, shit, there's only so much time in the day.

So, we return to the podiums:

Superego:

Ruby (132)

Rowena (121)

Cas (102)

Ego:

Rowena (121)

Cas (106)

Ruby (90)

Id:

Ruby (125)

John (121)

Rowena (118)

So that was going on sedately until Dad came in like a hammer. Fascinating. On the other hand:

No:

Lisa (234)

Donna (222)

Claire (219)

Interesting to me that these three are ladies that Sam theoretically could have got up in but people are not into it, regardless. This is slightly different to Dean's 'no' category -- spoilers for three inches of screen space!

Dean, Shipped by UPS

Superego:

John (129)

Benny (115)

Lisa (99)

Ego:

Benny (134)

John (116)

Lisa (102)

Id:

John (147)

Benny (128)

Crowley (114)

Well. That tells a slightly different story, ahem. Enjoy the various tropes that will be applied, Dean! And then we get:

No:

Amelia (245)

Kevin (223)

Gabriel (217)

Comparing to the Sam 'no' above -- these three are slightly more 'traditional' Sam ships, though the wincest shippers are nevertheless not into them for Sam, either. Dean literally never spoke to or saw Amelia on screen, so it'd be a determined shipper who'd make that happen. Not undoable, though!

Conclusion

Syke: there isn't one to be made. This really shows how diverse the taste is in the wincest community, or at least in the wincest community that a) happened to see this survey over the last five days and b) bothered to take it. This particular group leans slightly toward e.g. toppy Sam, or slightly toward switching, but when you look at raw numbers what you see is that at least one person LOVES every single one of these things, and at least one person fucking HATES every single one of these things, and so -- so what? Write what you want. If you see a niche of something that you love where you feel like not enough people are writing or reading, try to fill it. If you're worried "no one" will like it, well -- you're wrong. Someone will. It just needs to get seen by the right people.

That's where fandom comes in, to spread the love even if something isn't bulletproof for us -- reblogging a post to say, 'hey, my mutual made this thing, look at it!' What a joy it'd be if someone saw it and loved it to absolute shattering bits, and then found their little bulletproof community, and happiness was made. What's the point, if we're not making each other happy.

Thanks for participating if you did, and reading all this if you did. Here's a link to a google sheet (read only) with all the tables of raw data if you're interested. I'll post some of the more entertaining fill-in answers later.

s&d shipping survey results: November 1, 2023 - Google Sheets

[greyyson-but-no]

saviour angel | c!tommyinnit

genre | big angst

pairing | c!tommyinnit x etheral!reader

warnings | massive suicide tw, height, angel-like character, mentions of loniless, basically just exiled!tommy era in his prime, shouting, mentions of limbo

word count | 1.5K

a/n | an oc i've had for a while on the dsmp, this is their one and only scene so i had to write it. hope you enjoy

you had been watching from above the whole time. watching as he and dream spoke, how dream had ruined him and then watched as he left. when he left the young boy on his own, indefinitely lonely until it all got too much. there was no room for opinions where you hailed from, but you couldn't help when the pure love for this boy leaked through, ruining your supposedly neutral grounds.

furthermore, you watched as the young boy gathered all the materials he could. took them from his chests, dug and mined some more, until he was sure it wad enough for the job. enough to make the irreparable damage stick. there was a hole of conflict hidden in his eyes as he did so, and whatever was inside of you ached for him.

he had no one left. there was no one to save him now and he knew that more than anything else. he knew that if he did this now, if he went through with his plan and left forever, no one would care. no one would be able to stop him and no one could even try to convince him not to. the young boy was even sure some would even cheer at the news that he was gone. he wouldn't have put it past them.

oh, but he didn't know about you. the boy had no clue that you had always looked down at him, always held a little more love for him than you did for the rest of them. you didn't know why. you were simply drawn to him, an unwavering opinion even when people proved he wasn't a good person. he tried. that was the most important thing.

when he started building up, you slowly made your way to the overworld. it wasn't often you went there, but this just couldn't be a vision. he had to see you for what you were and that was the only way you could convince him.

the boy started building at the edge of a forest, a while away from his camp and miles and miles away from the rest of them. that was the life of the exiled, and you were going to make sure it wouldn't end here. it wouldn't end by him jumping off a pillar, taking his last canon life and letting it all go to hell. he had a right to try and fight back, and there wasn't much harm to it all if he needed a little push for that. that's all it was. a little push to fight back.

when he ran out of blocks, high enough that he could barely see ground, you flew up to him. coming from afar and in the direction, so as not to scare him. the last thing you wanted was to scare him enough that he fell to death. though, that would probably grant you a good enough reason to resurrect him. he only would have been in his limbo for a few days, and then he'd be back. unlike the other one you refused to resurrect.

"tommy." your voice was faint. at first he wasn't sure you were even there but then he looked away from the distance ground, the place he was insistent on being his cause of death, and there you were.

dressed in white, red eyes glinting at him, brighter than the fires of hell but full of an emotional that wouldn't be found in the depths of any limbo or nether. you were an angel flying towards him, and somehow he knew you were his saviour. he didn't know how he knew but somehow you would be the thing to save him.

"wh-" he cleared his throat. "what are you?"

if he spread the message that there angels looking over them all, you would be in trouble, so you just shook your head. "don't do this, tommy."

"how are you here? how are you flying?" his hands shuffled at his sides, confusion in his furrowed brows as you looked at him with a small smile. "god, i must be hallucinating. am i really that out of it?"

you shook your head, softly calming him with a smile. "tommy, you aren't hallucinating. i've simply come to stop you from doing something stupid. which i can see you're already halfway doing."

tommy's eyes went ice cold, hardened and closed off, fists clenching at his sides as he looked away from the burning red of your own eyes. "there's nothing, no one left for me here anymore. i have no reason to stay here if I'm going to be exiled for the rest of my life."

"but if you end it all, you can never see your friends again."

"what friends?" he asked, slowly becoming unstable as he looked up at you again. you were expecting anger inside his eyes but you should have known better. tommy doesn't get angry often, and so instead there was just a pit of sadness, of loneliness that he didn't know how to fix. "tubbo betrayed me! he hated me now! and wilbur is dead! he's never coming back and there is nothing i can ever do about that!"

your eyebrows furrowed again, tilting your head slightly at him and slowly moving forward. "tubbo doesn't hate you, how could he ever hate you? you're his best friend."

"oh yeah and how do you know that? have you been watching over him as well?" he asked, not expecting your answer.

so you laughed a little, nodding your head. "yes. i watch over everyone here. i can't disclose what everyone does but just know that i always have and always will watch over and care for all of them."

"even dream?"

"it's my job."

"am i no one special then?" he asked, shoulders slouched in misery, eyes at he floor and dangerously glancing off the edge of the tower every now and again.

you shook your head, gliding even closer and hovering against the slide breeze. you could see that tommy was shivering a little in the wind, but could do nothing to help it. all you could do was get him down with two feet on the ground. "you're more special than you think, tommy. it was you that starting this choas, you're the one that started this story and you have the power to end it whether you believe it or not. i wouldn't stop anyone from killing themselves, from dying in general. i didn't stop phil from taking away wilbur's last life which means that you must be special. you have the power to take back this life that was ripped from you."

"i don't have the power. look at me. fucking look at me."

"there is potential. with the right people and the right resources, tommy, you could own everything. it's not impossible, you just need a push."

"you sound like wilbur."

you blinked, chuckling slightly and looking down at the ground for a second. "i have been told that the people i look over and tend to in their limbo start to rub off on me. this wouldn't be the first time."

"tend to in limbo?" he asked, now furrowing his own eyebrows as a million questions ran through his mind. "have you spoken to wilbur? actual wilbur?"

swallowing, you nodded. "part of my job is to care for those in the afterlife, including wilbur."

"h-" he cleared his throat. "how is he?"

"managing. that is as much as i can give."

"is he going to come back?"

you shrugged again, genuniely not knowing the answer, and not being able to give even an educated one. "maybe, but it depends. again, its not impossible. there are just a few things that needs to happen before. that is not me saying that it will."

tommy nodded, swallowing thickly and looking down at the ground again, mumbling something under his breath. "you really think i can do it?"

"of course."

there were a few moments of silence. you were wavering slightly against the breeze as tommy thickly breathed in and out. there was conflict in his eyes, but you knew he was weighing up the pros and cons, and you could see immediately when he had made his decision.

he looked up at you. "help me get down from here."

you smiled ad nodded, lifting a hand up and not even looking as the ground opened up slightly beneath you and filled with water. tommy looked down, partly fearful, partly in awe. "just jump. jump and you're safe."

"thank you." and he did. gracefully falling from the pillar that he had made and splashing down into the water below him. you followed him, gliding down to the ground and meeting him down there.

over the next few days you helped him. each morning he would find some more clothes on his bed, better armour in his chests and more materials to get himself back together. slowly you convinced others to help him and he was okay. tommy didn't kill himself and he would have a comeback. he decided he didn't want to rule everything, or own it, but at least he had a reason to live now. he didn't have a reason to end it all.

and now you had to get wilbur back to him. that was next on the list.

[angelsdean]

💖 another angelsdean fic rec list 💖

ok so jenna @bloodydeanwinchester asked me for fic recs and i kinda went overboard ? so i’m making it a proper post. 

jenna enjoyed fics like Strandlines +Crossing Lines so here are some other stanford era / time-travel shenanigans fics:

a turn of the earth by microcomets - 95k | M | - 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.

A Different Kind of Monster by roadtonowhere (lastoryx) - 89k | E |  - When an accidental encounter puts an as-of-yet-unknown monster in the passenger seat of his car, Dean decides to ice him, taking his dad's old adage to heart: a monster is always a monster. Unfortunately, Dean can’t seem to figure out what kind of monster "Castiel" is and he certainly can’t shake him.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases - 46k | M | - Dean’s investigating a faith healer and strange miracles in a small town and meets grad-student-Cas who’s in town researching the faith healer’s community as part of his graduate thesis and quickly falls into his orbit. Together they investigate the community and discover things are not as they seem. 

the little angel (stay all day in the sun) by rhinestoneangels (almondrose) - 18k | T | - Little Mermaid AU ! - Dean is alone and lonely. Cas is an angel intrigued by humanity and makes a deal to live among them, but loses his voice.  

In Due Time (Dean Winchester is Saved) by caelum_writes- 11k | T | - A 26-year-old Dean is transported to 2021 and confronted with the unfathomable - a future where he is happy, safe, and loved.

jenna enjoyed Silver Linings so, some Dean + trauma / mental health fics:

carry on 'verse by foolondahill17 - 128k | M |- Post-canon Dean coping with past trauma, mental health, and alcoholism. God is dead. Sammy finally has what he always wanted. The kid is alive again and trying to figure out the whole human schtick. Cas – Cas is complicated, like always. And Dean is barreling headfirst into a mental breakdown. It’s the end of the road so far, and the future never looked so frightening.

About Five Times The Distance by KelpietheThundergod - 70k | E | - It's been months since Michael unexpectedly let Dean go, but he's still dealing with the mental and physical repercussions, some of which have turned out to be permanent. A case fic that follows Dean and Cas as they develop their relationship and establish intimacy, and while there's angst, the story is focused on healing and closeness

Brighter Than Sunflowers by nessarose_thropp - 61k | M |  - Dean healing post-Michael possession featuring artist Dean. Dean has spent the last six months drowning in his own mind until one day he's finally rescued. He's free now, but that doesn't mean he's okay. Faced with overwhelming changes to his life, he has to find new ways to keep going.

More below, losts of AUs. 

if you like when one of them has a kid 

The Place Where I Belong by tricia_16 - 300k | E |  -Yes this is a LONG one! Well, it’s a series of two long fics. But I remembered I devoured these very quickly. 

Dean Winchester is a single man with a bad reputation for being the 'love them and leave them' kinda guy. When he meets his new neighbor, Castiel, and his daughter, Claire, he forms an instant connection with the toddler that makes it more important than ever before to prove to Castiel that he wants to stick around. Castiel, on the other hand, is a single parent who has only ever known pain when it comes to love. Can they work through their combined baggage together to really let one another in and become the family they both dream of belonging to?

Kinda Like Family, Kinda Like Love by followyourenergy - 122k | M | - MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE TO LOVERS. I want more of these. Such a good trope. Different from fake married because they are for reals married! Anyways - Cas has wanted nothing more than to have children of his own. But when he finally gets his chance after years of disappointment, a strict set of rules almost dashes those dreams. Enter Dean Winchester: eternal bachelor, friend, and suddenly, Cas’ fiancé. Join Cas and Dean as they navigate marriage, adoption, and something that starts to feel kinda like love.

Crashing In by followyourenergy - 77k | E | - Cas is a gay man living in a rented, one-room cottage in the same small coastal town he grew up in, just getting by as the owner of the same convenience store he was practically raised in. The most excitement he gets is chatting with the locals or maybe, if he’s unlucky, oversleeping and rushing to work. So when a baby is left at the Safe Haven drop-off at the local fire station, he takes the opportunity to step in for the child temporarily, at least until suitable parents, plural, can be found.Life certainly gets more interesting.And it gets even more interesting when a handsome man comes crashing—literally—into his life.

What Baking Can Do by cowlovely - 63k | T |- Dean’s a baker. Cas is a pediatrician. They meet after Dean takes in foster baby Jack. Dean keeps bringing him pies and things. It’s very cute. 

Say Cheese by DragonSgotenks - 50k | E | - Dean suddenly finds out he has a daughter when he’s granted custody of her. Cas is an aspiring nature photographer who works at a portrait photography place in the mall to pay the bills. When a handsome father brings in his grumpy little girl for pictures Castiel thinks it will be just another photo shoot. He's wrong.

if you like when one of them is famous and running away from their lives to a small town

(Crashing In also belongs here: see above) 

The Complete Works of Emmanuel Allen by violue - 56k | E | - Dean Winchester, reluctant business owner, reluctant homeowner, and reluctant cat owner, is striking up a very promising friendship with the author of his favorite book series. And he has no idea. (Slight And This Your Living Kiss vibes with the whole falling for your favorite author unknowingly) 

Autumn in His Eyes by Desirae - 50k | E | - Castiel worked his ass off to escape his family and make a name for himself in the art world. However, when his name gets tarnished after a scandal involving his brother and the paparazzi won’t leave him alone, Castiel goes into hiding, moving into an inherited property of his beloved grandmother’s in the cozy little town of Bear Claw, Vermont-where he meets one Dean Winchester. Dean, though not without his own baggage, is a kind and generous soul who unlocks something in Castiel. 

Arrested by Love by teacass (Fushigi) - 41k | E | - Running away from an affair gone wrong, famous musician and media darling Dean Winchester flees to the only place small enough to offer him security: his hometown. Holing up in his father’s old cabin, he plans to wait out the storm in relative peace. Until he meets the new sheriff, Castiel Novak, who seems to be the only person in town immune to Dean’s (many) charms. 

misc. fics you may like: 

Dateverse by aeli_kindara - 47k | E | - Set in Canon Verse, s15 - Dean finally asks Cas out on a date. Neither of them really know what they’re doing. Three fics following three dates alongside trying to stop god and save the world. 

Every Song is About You by Speary - 45k | M | - BAND AU. Enemies to Lovers !! They have history! I still think about this fic all the time. Castiel, a successful musician with the band Fallen, lost everything that he thought mattered. Grieving the loss of his band after a tragic accident, Castiel decides that he doesn't need to make music anymore. Crowley, his manager, is not okay with this plan. Enter Dean, the former member of the band, Winchester, who needs something to help fix what's broken in his life and his career. He has his own internal demons to fight, and the fact that Castiel still hates him after all these years isn't exactly helping anything. Despite all that, they form a new band together and slowly unravel the past.

Paper Moon by robotsnchicks - 43k  | E |  - By the time he hits thirty-three, Dean's given up on the apple pie life, accepting that a serious relationship isn't in the cards for him. But when he meets Cas everything falls into place. Now he’s happily married, hopelessly in love, and they’re about to buy their first home together. It almost feels too good to be true.It turns out it is. His world comes crashing down when he wakes to find that he’s been a subject in a virtual reality simulation gone wrong. His life with Cas really took place in less than a week and, back in the real world, Cas is nowhere to be found and no one’s heard of him. Still, Dean is determined to find him and give their relationship a shot in the real world. 

Finding Home by Desirae - 42k | E | - When they were kids, Dean witnessed his best friend Cas get kidnapped before his eyes. Now, years later, Dean is runs a bakery and lives a quiet life, reluctant to leave his hometown in hopes that his best friend may one day return. His heart has remained closed for years, haunted by the loss of his friend, until Emmanuel James Milton breezed into his life; waking his sleeping heart with a complete lack filter and achingly familiar eyes. An author, with no family and traumatic past of his own, Emmanuel never felt like he belonged anywhere until he walked into The Honeybee Bakery and met Dean.

Don't Tell the Groom by followyourenergy - 30k | E | - Idiots in love ! Best friends to lovers ! FAKE WEDDING ! Such rom-com vibes.  Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester have a love almost as long as their twenty-year friendship—not that they’ve told each other that, of course. Each of them yearns to have it all with their best friend, and both are convinced it’ll never happen. So when watching a reality show about clueless grooms who plan weddings on a budget for their brides without the brides’ input, talk naturally turns to planning weddings. In a terrible (or perhaps wonderful) moment of spontaneous boastfulness, Cas declares that he could plan a wedding for them without a problem, since he knows Dean so well, and in an ill-advised (or perhaps well-advised) challenge, Dean dares him to do it. 

[sisterofficerlucychen]

Hello,

I love your take on the Rookie. I have been seeing a lot of posts everywhere from people wanting Tim and Lucy to break up to create angst and drama. I personally hate that route i have stopped watching shows I loved because they did that. To me that is lazy writing and cliche. What is your take do you think they will break up? There is ways to create angst and drama without characters breaking up. It has been done many times before: Castle, Bones, Blue Bloods, Brooklyn 99 just name a few.

that’s so sweet, thank you! ♡ 

i don’t think they’ll break up, i feel like there’s far too much at stake for them to do so. i just keep thinking back to lucy’s “if we do this and it doesn’t work, i’ll have ruined the most important relationship of my life” like those were such powerful words and them breaking up feels like lucy’s worst fear come true, and it makes me wonder how they’d get back the trust between them? i do have to put a quick disclaimer though because i’m such a sucker for some good angst that i would eat up any break up scene especially anything that parallels 5x02 because they broke up without even being together????? i was not emotionally okay for a while. anyway, i think back to when they were in relationship’s with ashley and chris, they both stayed in them because it was safe. they were keeping their feelings bottled in because it was safe. lucy saying it wasn’t worth the risk because from her point of view, the idea of losing tim was so much worse than the possibility of exploring things between them until he tells her that maybe it is worth the risk. she was resigned to things being how they were because at least that kept him in her life even at a distance and even as a friend. the thing with it not working out means that he’s no longer in her life, she’s lost her person. like that’s huge. 

it’s also hard for me to see them breaking up because of how well they communicate with one another and work things through. 5x02 aside when they entered their pining era, they have always been really good at resolving conflict whether it’s with one another or helping the other with whatever comes up. in 5x12 we saw them face their first obstacle as a couple and how they navigated it. when tamara asked if they were going to break up, lucy immediately dismissed it. she had no idea how they were going to resolve things but she knew that it was worth the risk. when they were talking about their two options, breaking up was not even a debatable option for either of them. even during their last shift on patrol, tim mentioned that there was the possibility that they’d see each other less and lucy was sad about it but it wasn’t enough of a reason for either of them to call it quits because this matters so much more than anything else. 

i love, love, angst and drama but them breaking up isn’t a way i’d personally see this happening. i think that they can go other routes without having to fall into this one. we also already saw this with wopez so i don’t know if they’d repeat it? i think that they can create angst and drama with them through other avenues. i’m all for conflict because one of them is in danger on the job. i’m a sucker for life and death panic moments but even then, i don’t know. i’ve personally really enjoyed season 5, in general and with chenford, so i’m really just kind of here for the ride right now. like overall i’m pretty content with what the writer’s are doing and the moments we’re getting so i’m choosing to give them the benefit of the doubt that they know exactly what path they’re putting chenford on and why. i don’t think they’ve given us a reason for us as an audience not to trust them like it was a slow burn but i think that so far it’s 100% paid off like i’m still in absolute shock and awe that chenford has been canon for only four episodes when it feels like so much longer than that and i’m so excited to see what’s coming next ♡ 

[kjack89]

Put to the Sword

My fic for this year’s @lesmissamepromptficchallenge! The premise of this fic really only works when looking at the English translation and not the original French but whatever, that’s never once stopped me.

Developing E/R, canon era. Fluff with a touch of angst because of course.

Bossuet propped his chin on his hand, a small frown furrowing his forehead. “Does Enjolras have a sword?” he asked, more rhetorically than seeking an actual answer.

Luckily, Joly, seated at his side in the backroom of the Musain, followed his glance, and blinked twice. “It would appear so,” he said.

It perhaps spoke volumes about Enjolras that once Bossuet’s suspicions were confirmed, he did not feel the need to question further, instead simply shrugging and returning to his cup. But now it was Joly who frowned, and when he saw an opening to do so, he stood and made his way to Enjolras. “Need we all come so well-armed to Les Amis meetings in the future?” he asked, perching on the table next to where Enjolras sat.

Though it may only have been a trick of the candlelight, Joly was fairly certain that a slight flush rose in Enjolras’s cheeks. “I believe we are safe without weaponry, at least for now,” Enjolras said. 

“And yet you have not one but two swords,” Joly remarked mildly, having spotted the second, identical sabre leaning against the table on Enjolras’s other side.

There was no mistaking Enjolras’s blush this time. “Courfeyrac was meant to teach me some basic swordplay,” he muttered. “But it appears he has been waylaid en route this evening.”

From Enjolras’s tone of disapproval, Joly surmised that Courfeyrac had found a much more pleasurable companion for the evening. “As have a few of our number,” Joly agreed mildly, and if anything, Enjolras looked even more put out.

“So it would seem,” he said sourly.

Joly hesitated for only a moment before suggesting, “But if it’s a fencing teacher you seek, surely there are others among us who are equally skilled to be able to teach you.”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “Such as...?” he prompted, and Joly couldn’t quite stop the smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth.

“Such as Grantaire.”

For one moment, Enjolras looked as if he was contemplating it, but then he shook his head. “Grantaire is not inclined to do me any favors,” he said dismissively.

Joly gave him a look. “And how inclined have you been to ask him to do you any favors?” Enjolras opened his mouth to retort but no sound came out, and Joly allowed himself a small, triumphant smile before telling Enjolras innocently, “The worst he can say is no, were you so inclined to try.”

With that, he made his way back to Bossuet, who had watched this whole exchange with bemusement. “What were you doing?” Bossuet asked as Joly sat down.

Joly’s smile widened. “Meddling.”

Bossuet sighed. “How many times must I warn you against doing so?” he asked with a long-suffering air.

Joly patted his hand. “At least once more.”

Again Bossuet sighed, looking very much like he was regretting this evening immensely. “And what meddling could you possibly have done in regards to Enjolras’s sword?”

“Swords,” Joly corrected. “Courfeyrac was meant to teach him the basics of fencing, but some pretty gamine or another allegedly caught his eye early this eve, so I seized the opportunity I saw to recommend a different teacher.”

Bossuet cast him a baleful look. “Do not tell me—”

“It is not my fault that Grantaire has oft proclaimed himself quite adept at fencing,” Joly said innocently. “And if by teaching him swordplay, he might spend more time with the man he so venerates, I fail to see what harm could come from it.”

Bossuet sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Foot-fencing,” he said wearily, and Joly frowned.

“Pardon?”

“Foot-fencing, you idiot,” Bossuet repeated. “Grantaire is adept at foot-fencing – savate. Not actual fencing.”

Joly looked momentarily stricken. “Ah,” he said, glancing over at Enjolras, who was saying his goodbyes to Combeferre and Feuilly. “Well, what Enjolras doesn’t know is unlikely to cause him harm.”

Bossuet didn’t look nearly as convinced. “Perhaps not. But do you truly think putting Enjolras and Grantaire in a room together with sharp blades will result in no casualties?”

Joly reached for the wine bottle. “What I think is that this is no longer my concern.”

Bossuet considered it for a moment before holding his own cup out for Joly to refill. “On that point, at least, we can agree.”

----------

Enjolras had not been to Grantaire’s lodgings frequently enough that he should have the route memorized, but somehow his feet found their way there seemingly of their own accord, and when greeted by the closed door, Enjolras figured he had no choice left but to knock and to ask for Grantaire’s help.

No matter how much the idea pained him.

He gave the door two strong knocks and took an automatic step to wait for Grantaire to answer. It was only after he had already done so that he realized that the hour was quite late, and that he perhaps should have waited to call upon Grantaire in the morning, as the man might very well be in bed—

Grantaire opened the door, a small frown of confusion knitting his brow, confusion that was replaced by surprise when he saw Enjolras standing there. “Enjolras?” he asked, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”

Enjolras hesitated for a moment before blurting, “I have come to ask a favor.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Do your boots need blacking?” he asked mildly, and Enjolras scowled.

“Most hilarious.”

“I fancy myself quite amusing,” Grantaire agreed.

Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “I know you do.”

Grantaire cleared his throat pointedly. “So if not your boots, then how else may I serve you?”

There was no mistaking the double-entendre of his last words, and Enjolras flushed but refused to allow himself to be distracted from his purpose. “I want you to teach me to fence,” he said firmly.

Grantaire blinked. “To – what?”

“To fence,” Enjolras repeated, faltering when he saw the slightly blank look on Grantaire’s face. “I have been led to believe you are adept at fencing.”

“I am adept at a great many things,” Grantaire murmured, more to himself than to Enjolras. “My own skill aside, why do you wish to learn to fence?”

Enjolras squared his shoulders. “A battle is coming, even if I know not when. It seems a useful skill to have.”

Again Grantaire’s eyebrow rose. “You expect to do much fencing on the barricade?”

“I expect that I should be prepared to,” Enjolras shot back. “So will you help me or not?”

For a moment, it looked as though Grantaire might refuse. Then he shook his head slowly. “Let it never be said that Grantaire did not help the Cause when he was asked,” he said, which Enjolras supposed was as straightforward a ‘yes’ as he was likely to ever get from him. “Meet me at the Musain in a half hour and we shall begin your tutelage.”

Enjolras frowned. “Why the Musain?”

Grantaire glanced at the closed door behind him. “I am afraid my accommodations are likely not large enough for this particular endeavor.”

“Then why not outside?”

Grantaire gave him a look. “Where the police or any unfortunate bystander may happen upon us?” he asked, shaking his head. “Believe me, this is an activity best undertaken indoors and without an audience.”

Enjolras found he didn’t have a counterargument, so settled for jerking a stiff nod. “Very well. The Musain, in half an hour. I shall return now and ask any of our number that remains to clear out.”

“You do that,” Grantaire told him before disappearing back into his apartment, leaving Enjolras standing in the hallway, feeling very much like he was going to regret this.

----------

As it turned out, none of their comrades still lingered when Enjolras arrived, and he took the liberty of getting Grantaire a bottle of wine and a cup, figuring that he owed the man at least that much for agreeing to teach him, and at this late hour especially.

Grantaire arrived at the appointed time, still dressed in solely a shirt with no cravat or waistcoat, his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. “You would do well to remove your cravat and vest,” he told Enjolras. Now, allow me to examine what swords you expect us to use for this exercise in folly.”

Enjolras handed both blades to Grantaire. “I borrowed them from Courfeyrac, who said they were training blades,” he said. “Dulled so as not to cause much real harm.”

Grantaire took one blade in each hand, hefting them as he considered. Then, without warning, he tossed one to Enjolras, who grabbed for it but missed. “Some warning might be appreciated,” Enjolras said as he bent to pick it up.

“My apologies,” Grantaire said smoothly, but he didn’t sound particularly apologetic.

Enjolras made a face but did not press the issue further, instead holding the sword in front of him with both hands. Grantaire arched an eyebrow at him. “One hand only,” he corrected, his own sword held easily in his right hand.

“Wouldn’t both hands give you more control?” Enjolras asked, even as he shifted the blade into his right hand.

“If you were swinging a longsword, perhaps,” Grantaire said. “But this measly weapon requires just the one.” He paused to give Enjolras a calculating look. “Will you be giving me this much trouble for every instruction I give you?” Enjolras scowled but did not press the matter further. “Now turn so that you face me side-on,” Grantaire ordered. “That way you present a smaller target.”

Enjolras turned obediently, feeling rather foolish. “Like this?” he asked, holding the sword in front of his side, his shoulders and head turning automatically but leaving most of his body facing away.

Grantaire nodded. “Now your feet,” he instructed. “Place your weight on your front foot. And allow me to examine your grip.” He closed the space between them, standing behind Enjolras, so close that his chest brushed against Enjolras’s back, and Enjolras swallowed, feeling suddenly and inexplicably nervous. “Not so tightly,” Grantaire said into his ear, and he placed one hand on top of Enjolras’s, loosening his grip and rearranging his fingers. His other hand rested lightly on Enjolras’s hip, shifting his weight with a gentle touch.

His hands lingered on Enjolras’s hand and hip perhaps a moment too long, and Enjolras cleared his throat. “Are we almost ready to begin?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Grantaire stepped away from him, and Enjolras flinched at the sudden loss of heat. “As ready as I suppose we will ever be,” Grantaire said, picking up his own sword and mirroring Enjolras’s stance a few paces away.

For one long moment, they both just looked at each other, and Enjolras wondered how they would look to any who happened to pass by. “What happens now?” he asked.

Grantaire grinned. “Now, we fight.”

Without warning, he moved rapidly, so quickly that Enjolras barely had time to raise his sword before Grantaire brought his whistling down to meet Enjolras’s with a loud clang. The clash sent vibrations up Enjolras’s arm, but he had no time to recover before Grantaire aimed a slash at his side.

He managed to avoid the blow, and danced out of reach of the next thrust, even managing to aim a swipe of his own at Grantaire’s arm. But his blade did not connect, and he was so surprised that he did not have time to parry Grantaire’s next swing from his other side. The dulled sabre caught him on his shoulder, a sudden, stinging blow that was almost certain to leave a bruise. “Ow,” he winced, though in truth his pride suffered the greater injury than had his shoulder.

Grantaire retreated as quickly as he had started, still grinning. He didn’t look like he had even broken a sweat, where Enjolras’s hair was all but plastered to his forehead. “Good,” Grantaire said, raising his sword again. “This time, faster.”

Enjolras barely had time to impatiently brush his hair out of his eyes when Grantaire lunged again. True to his word, the blows came faster this time, Grantaire’s sword reduced to a blur as he swung at Enjolras from seemingly all sides. Enjolras managed to parry the first several attacks, but he was tiring quickly, and a sudden upward swing from Grantaire caused Enjolras’s sword to clatter out of his hand.

Enjolras immediately knelt to pick it up, but before he could even reach the sword, Grantaire’s blade was at his throat. Enjolras stared down at the metal, barely a breath away from his bare skin, and he swallowed as Grantaire took a step closer. 

But Grantaire merely used the tip of his sword blade to tilt Enjolras’s chin up so that their eyes met, the move surprisingly gentle given the ferocity of his earlier attacks. “If there was a real fight, you would be dead,” Grantaire told him.

“Then I suppose I am glad this was not a real fight,” Enjolras managed, panting as he stared up at Grantaire, who grinned.

“I suppose not,” he agreed, finally flicking his sword away from Enjolras’s throat before bending to offer Enjolras his hand to help him to his feet.

Enjolras let Grantaire pull him to his feet and winced as he rolled his shoulders and prodded at his arm, which had already begun to swell where Grantaire had hit him. “At least Joly did not lie in his estimation of your skill.”

To his surprise, Grantaire barked a laugh. “Oh, about that…” he started, pouring himself a cup of wine. “I’m afraid that Joly sold you a pack of lies.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I have no more skill with a blade than any of our number,” Grantaire told him cheerfully, lifting his cup in a mock toast. “My speciality is in foot-fencing, which involves no fencing or blades of any kind.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Grantaire agreed, watching him closely.

Enjolras opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t seem to find any words. He settled for telling Grantaire, a little desperately, “But you were so good.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Was I? Or was I merely better than you?”

Enjolras felt like Grantaire had hit him in the stomach instead of the arm. He had gone to him to ask a favor, and this was how Grantaire repaid his trust? By making a mockery of his request? “And why, may I ask, did you need to make a fool of me this way?” he asked stiffly.

Grantaire shrugged. “I saw an opportunity for amusement, and I took it,” he said easily. “And now I have an excellent story to share with any of our comrades who might ask.”

A muscle worked in Enjolras’s cheek. “Then I sincerely hope that you have received what you were looking for,” he said icily. “I suppose the fault is mine for ever believing you were capable of sincerity.”

For a brief moment, Grantaire looked stricken, but Enjolras did not wait for whatever platitudes he might offer, instead turning on heel and storming off, his pride again hurting far worse than any of the physical aches he now bore.

He had barely gotten a half dozen steps outside when a thought struck him, and he paused in his step, debating whether it would do any good to ask further. But curiosity got the better of him, and he doubled back, surprising Grantaire so much when he threw the door open that the man slopped half his cup of wine on himself. “Tell me again, why put me through this charade?”

Grantaire shook his head, trying in vain to blot the wine that stained his shirt. “I told you, I saw an opportunity—”

Enjolras shook his head. “I do not believe that.”

“Whyever not?” Grantaire asked, giving up on the wine stain and instead crossing to refill his cup.

“If your goal was simply to embarrass me, you would’ve ensured we had an audience, not gone out of your way to ensure we would be alone,” Enjolras pointed out. “Besides, you are not generally so malicious.”

“Maybe not,” Grantaire agreed. He suddenly grabbed his sword from where he had set it on the table and whirled so that it was again pointed at Enjolras’s throat. “Or maybe I just like the way you look at the end of my sword.”

Enjolras smiled, just lightly. “Now that I do believe.” He sidestepped away from Grantaire’s sword. “But as this is twice now that you could have killed me and did not, I also believe you owe me some honesty.” He leveled an even look at Grantaire. “Why go along with the charade?”

Grantaire’s shoulders slumped, and he lowered his sword with a sigh. “Because if I said no, you would find a different teacher,” he said tiredly.

“One who might actually possess the skills I sought to learn,” Enjolras said sourly.

But Grantaire shook his head. “No,” he said, a little sadly. “One who might teach you that which I could not bring myself to.”

Enjolras frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you did not wish to learn to fence. You wished to learn how to kill with a blade.”

Grantaire delivered the words flatly, and Enjolras was momentarily taken aback by his tone. “Yes,” he said, seeing no point now in denying it. 

Grantaire’s expression tightened. “And that is something I could not willingly bring myself to let you learn.” He paused and snorted. “Of course, when I saw how ill-equipped you were to fight with a blade, it seemed less important to let the charade continue. Not even a trained swordsman could get you up to snuff.”

Enjolras was temporarily stung by Grantaire’s harsh – if undoubtedly true – assessment of his skill, but he refused to allow himself to be distracted. “But why were you not willing to let me learn?” he demanded. “Do you think I will be better protected if I am left defenseless when I have used my last shot?”

Grantaire traded his sword for his cup of wine and took a swig before answering, uncharacteristically quiet, “No.”

“So you do not think it would be valuable for me to learn to swing a blade?” 

“I think it would be valuable for you to learn to enjoy drinking wine and taking someone to your bed, but you’ve never much cared what I think,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras felt himself flush but was undeterred. “Perhaps not. But you’re deflecting.”

Grantaire drained his cup and set it down harder than he likely intended, the sound of the metal against the wooden table echoing the sound of Enjolras’s sword clattering from his hand earlier. “I learned long ago that you will not keep your body out of harm’s way when the time comes,” he said, his voice low. “Forgive me for thinking that I might do my part to protect your soul.”

Enjolras stared at him. “What does any og this have to do with my soul?” he asked slowly.

Grantaire just arched an eyebrow. “I suppose it is for every man to decide whether taking another’s life tarnishes his soul,” he mused before his expression hardened. “But whatever blood ends up on your hands, I will have no part in teaching you a more efficient way of putting it there.”

Finally, Enjolras understood, and he felt as though the floor had shifted underneath him. For Grantaire to think even about, let alone care so much about the state of his soul and what damage he might do to it in whatever battle was to come… 

He was not often at a loss for words, but invariably, it was always Grantaire who put him there, who made him feel unsteady when he would rather be sure-footed, but this time, it was not by his usual mockery that Grantaire had so unmoored him. This was as close as Enjolras had ever been to witnessing Grantaire caring for him, and the glimpse, even in these most unusual of circumstances, was almost more than Enjolras could bear.

So much so that he could do only what Grantaire normally did when confronted with that which he would rather not face: deflect. “I did not think you believed in souls,” he said, aiming for levity and missing by a mile.

Grantaire shrugged. “I don’t.”

And yet the man who professed no belief save in his full glass had dragged himself from his apartment in the dead of night to spar with him if just delay him for that much longer from learning another way to kill a man.

Say what you would about Grantaire, and Enjolras had certainly spared no words over the years, but he was certainly dedicated.

Enjolras only wished that his dedication was to something far less human and fallible.

Grantaire headed toward the door, clearly not waiting for whatever judgment Enjolras might pass on him, but he nonetheless paused when Enjolras called after him, “We are not yet done.”

“What more is there to discuss?” Grantaire asked without turning. “There is nothing that I can teach you.”

“Maybe not,” Enjolras said and Grantaire turned, his expression wary. Enjolras sighed. “As you have said, there is little chance at me becoming so proficient with a blade that I would yet do any real damage. And if you truly seek to protect me, whether in body or in soul, will you not at least help me learn to defend myself, should the time come?” Grantaire still didn’t look convinced and Enjolras pressed, “I am certain that you can at least help me to keep myself alive.”

Grantaire’s expression was unreadable. “Would that I could,” he murmured, so low that Enjolras could barely hear him.

Enjolras picked the sword up from where Grantaire had dropped it and turned it to offer it to him hilt-first. “Please, Grantaire,” he said quietly.

Grantaire took the sword reluctantly. “Why would you not just get a proper teacher?” he asked. “Why would you continue to put yourself through this, and with me of all people?”

“Because I trust you, of all people,” Enjolras told him. He wasn’t sure that he had ever believed the words as much as he did now. “Because perhaps you are correct, and I have put too much stock in death and not enough in defense. And…” He hesitated. “Perhaps just because I would like the chance to see what you look like at the end of my blade.”

Grantaire bowed his head for a long moment, and Enjolras realized that he was holding his breath, waiting for his answer. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” Grantaire said finally, but he was smiling again, a small, slightly cocky smile, and Enjolras released the breath he had been holding in relief. “But do be warned – I may not have much skill, but I will not make this easy for you.”

Enjolras smiled as well. “I would expect nothing less.”

[quirklessidiot]

Title: nocous [iii. under the moonlight]

Genre: just angst, drama, romance, historical fiction, and slow burn  Pairing: Pre-curse!Sukuna x gn!sorcerer!reader (heian era; pre-curse sukuna)

Synopsis: in which the boy is now a man and wishes for you to look at him that way too

Warnings: not canon stuff, class differences, dark themes, vewy smoll manga spoilers, trauma, mentions of slavery and prostitution, and mild sexual themes Notes:  once again, im back for a while. Classes is on hold for a while so yay! more content i guess? skkss anyways see yall soon!

masterlist [find other parts here!] //  taglist

The pink-haired boy stares at his reflection on the clear pond for a split second, the scars that used to litter his face, arms, and torso have now been covered by tattoos, the body that used to be so frail had a bit of muscle in them from being fed good food. The memory of him being called a number and a slave seemed like it was too long ago when in fact it had been six or seven years since then.

Sukuna.

That was the name he had chosen.

“Well, you’re officially reborn as that,” he recalls your words that day when you were both thirteen, “Nice to meet you Sukuna.”

At times when he was alone, he wonders what would have happened if you hadn’t picked him that time. He’d probably be at some brothrel fucking older men or pleasing older women, this makes his face contort in disgust.

“Why did you save me?”

“You,” you point out, redressing his bandages on his face, the thirteen year old boy that was once filled with spit-fire had grown quiet that time,  “Have unique cursed energy.”

He remembers laughing at your response yet when you tell him that the things he saw were not due to trauma and that you could see them too, he stops laughing. You called them curses and your family was apparently one of the responsible ones for killing them.

At that moment, something sparks within him.

He felt like he wasn’t alone for the first time.

“What are you doing there being all broody and mysterious?”

Sukuna snaps back to reality when he hears your voice, there you stood, garbed in expensive silks that money could buy.He is clearly reminded of your class differences in moments like this yet he doesn’t mind it all. In fact, he feels his mouth dry up just a bit, it never ceases to amaze him all the time, you were absolutely beautiful.

“You know how much I hate those kinds of shit.” He replied, thankfully the night had covered his red cheeks.

“You’re part of the family though.”

Sukuna, despite being a slave, had reached the ranks. With his cursed energy, he was able to take your last name and stay in your place as a ward.

“You literally just gave me your last name.” Sukuna deadpanned, “and you know how people feel when they see me.”

Disgust.

Shame.

“Then I’ll kick them out.” You shrug, walking closer to him. The man intakes a sharp breath when you place your chin on his shoulder. Despite you being clingy and close to him these past few years, these days he feels his heart thumping nervously whenever you were near, his stomach flipping when he smells your scent, and his ears turn mildly red when you teased him about his love life, “They’re probably just jealous about you and how you were able to make a unique domain at such an early age.” you frowned.

His shoulders turn tense when he feels your breath tickling his skin.

“Isn’t this party for you to find a partner or something?” he grumbles, turning to your side, the distance between you two is close enough to hear your soft breathing. So he places a finger in the middle of your forehead to gently push you away, trying to hide the little hurt on his voice by sounding rough as always.

“Ah,” you slap his hand and return to your previous position, “It’s not like I want to get married, otosan says I don’t need to since you’re here.”

Sukuna blinks, “What?”

“That girl from the Zen’in clan seems interested in you. You can carry on the name.”

His face contorts in disgust, “I don’t like that woman.”

“Too bad she loves you.” You tried to tease, pinching his cheek, “Akari-san is a nice girl from a good family.”

“She’d probably scream if she saw me naked.”

“You’re not too bad to look at when you’re naked though.”

Sukuna feels his cheeks turn red at the memory of that, one time you had accidentally walked in while he was changing and instead of being embarrassed, you just whistled and calmly said that he was above average and everyone would love him. He couldn’t stare at you for the next few days without him turning red.

“Yah,” he growled, “Stop sounding like a fuckin’ pervert.”

You chuckled and removed yourself from his shoulder, ignoring his previous statement, “But it would be sad if you got married and moved away, though.” he watches your eyes seem to crinkle just a bit.

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m too stubborn to die if that’s what you mean.”

Sukuna reassures you from time to time.

He knows that despite you growing up in a family of jujutsu sorcerers, you feared the death of your loved ones or those closest to you. Him included. So he’s never tired to remind you that he’ll always be there, that he’s too stubborn to die, that he’ll try to be permanent.

A promise he’d want to keep, death be damned for sure.

The taller man doesn’t catch your lingering stare nor the small sigh escaping your lips.

taglist:

@coldbookworm​ ;; @airybnb​ ;; @hcn421 ;; @iguessimastannnow ;; @shinhiromi ;; @Frankenstein852 ;; @kurok1717 ;; @shephard17895​ ;; @kristineyoshaii​ ;; @ajgodess​ ;; @earphonekiyouka​ ;; @meri-soni-meri-tamanna​ 

[lucky-katebishop]

What I Read in November 2021

Hello again! I'm posting this at an appropriate time of the month instead of the very end, yay! I read a total of 12 fics this month, all of them being either Harry Potter or MCU. Enjoy :)

Harry Potter

Vellum Voices by Lomonaaeren

Plot: AU. Voldemort cursed Harry in the graveyard so that he can only speak Parseltongue. Harry embarks on his fifth year alternately furious and despairing and trying to learn faster writing, British Sign Language, and nonverbal casting all at once. It turns out that not all Slytherins are Malfoy or Snape, and not everyone is frightened of Parseltongue.

Characters: Harry, Blaise, Ron, Hermione, Umbridge, Dumbledore, Snape

Relationships: Harry/Blaise Zabini

Warnings: none

Tags: book 5; canon divergence; angst; torture; minor character death; parseltongue; hurt/comfort

*complete* this is part of a series of 2 fics, which is also complete

Defensive Magic by Jocelyn

Plot: AU after OOTP. A one-shot of my theory on what would REALLY have happened if Uncle Vernon ever took a swing at Harry!

Characters: Harry, Snape, Arabella Figg, Remus, Vernon, Petunia, Ron, Hermione, Molly, Dumbledore

Relationships: none

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: book 5, Harry is confused as hell; Snape doesn’t get paid enough; Mrs Figg is not having your shenanigans; good Snape; post Ministry battle

*complete*

Chronological Displacement by bookinit

Plot: ”Should it still be spinning like that?” Malfoy asks weakly. Definitely not, Harry thinks. At this rate, it would send them back to the beginning of bloody time. “Malfoy, we have to slow it down!” Harry yells over the growing racket of the time turner. Harry’s not sure how, exactly, they’re going to do that, but they have to try. Malfoy looks at him wildly, and hesitates for only a second before grabbing his arm. The time turner only seems to grow stronger. A bright light begins to glow out from the center of the device, reaching its edges over to Harry and Malfoy. Fuck. The last thing Harry sees is Malfoy’s worried face, and then darkness. Featuring: Harry meeting the marauders, a healthy dose of Drarry and Wolfstar pining, and the James and Harry friendship you never knew you needed.

Characters: Harry; Draco Malfoy; Dumbledore; James; Lily; Sirius; Peter Pettigrew; Lucius Malfoy; Narcissa Malfoy; McGonagall; Regulus Black; Andromeda Black Tonks; Bellatrix Lestrange; Snape

Relationships: Draco/Harry; James/Lily; Sirius/Remus

Warnings: none

Tags: time travel, pining, marauders era; fix-it; Hogwarts Eighth Year; post-battle of Hogwarts; pining Draco; amortentia; quidditch; animagus; POV Harry; mostly canon compliant but also not; friends to lovers; enemies to friends to lovers; sarcastic Draco; banter

My Notes: Compared to a lot of fics like these that I’ve read, this one is very light-hearted. Sometimes I think it’s a bit too fast paced, but obviously I am a fan of slow-burn, so don’t listen to me if you disagree!

*incomplete* [last updated October 2021]

MCU

We All Get Together When We Bury A Friend by King_Queen_and_Ace

Fandom: Black Widow, The Avengers, MCU

Plot: Three figures watch the collection of heroes and their allies commemorate the loss of a beloved friend and teammate from a distance, like a terrible cliche, except they thankfully do not carry umbrellas with them. "This is bullshit." A blonde haired woman hisses as she watches through a pair of binoculars. Gatecrashing a funeral is always fun.

Characters: Yelena Belova, Natasha, Melina Vostokoff, Alexei Shostakov, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner

Relationships: Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanov

Warnings: major character death

Tags: angst, canonical character death, family, post-Avengers: Endgame

*completed*

Calligraphy by Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so

Fandoms: The Avengers, Spider-Man: Homecoming, Black Widow (2021), Black Widow (comics)

Plot: It’s been seven months since the Blip.They’re handling the aftermath about as well as can be expected. Peter’s still a high school senior, even though it's been five years since he was supposed to graduate. Clint drinks to forget that Natasha died on Vormir every time except the last. Tony isn’t taking calls from anyone, not even Peter. Thor is trying to track down Loki, who’s wreaking havoc in Amsterdam. Steve’s grappling with the realization that, as much as he doesn’t belong in the present, he doesn’t belong in the past either. Natasha knows that words can’t do a damn thing to fix the damage of a war. But this team is the found family she never thought she’d get. Like hell if she’s going to let that fade away without a fight.

Characters: Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Thor, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Morgan Stark, Melina Vostokoff, Alexei Shostakov

Relationships: Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov; Michelle Jones/Peter Parker; Peter & Tony Stark; Natasha & Tony; Clint & Natasha; Steve & Natasha

Warnings: none

Tags: post-Avengers Infinity war; Post-Avengers: Endgame; Not Avengers: Endgame compliant; Protective Natasha; Natasha is a good friend; BAMF Natasha; Natasha feels; POV Natasha; everyone loves Peter; Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies

*completed* this is part two of a series; I read the first part in the series a couple years ago and they recently updated so yay!

Five Times Natasha Picked Up the Phone for Yelena (and One Time She Didn’t) by Sanctuaria

Fandom: Black Widow (2021); The Avengers

Plot: Yelena opens the door in a purple many-pocketed vest and shorts. “Your hair,” she greets her. “It’s gross.” “Thank you,” Natasha grouses, waiting for Yelena to step aside. Her sister doesn’t, tilting her head to the side at the platinum blonde bob, cut just below Natasha’s jawline, such that the tips of it curl and tickle her there sometimes. It’s annoying, like Yelena. “It’s because you wanted to be more like me, yeah?”

Characters: Natasha, Yelena, Melina, Alexei, Fanny the dog

Relationships: Natasha & Yelena; Natasha & Melina; Alexei/Melina

Warnings: major character death

Tags: found family; Russian Vodka Murder Family; post-Black Widow (2021); banter; Yelena is a little shit; canon compliant

*completed*

Nobody No More by midnightwolf2192

Fandom: The Avengers, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Plot: Someone certainly had a set on them - kidnapping the Avengers' kids from right under their noses. That took a lot of balls. But why would they come after him - he was just a simple homeless kid trying to go about his day. What did these guys want with him?

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Morgan Stark, Pepper Potts, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Laura Barton, Shuri, Cassie Lang, Cooper Barton, Lila Barton, Nathaniel Pietro Barton, Steve Rogers, Michelle Jones, Ned leeds, Yelena Belova

Relationships: Peter & Tony; Peter & Natasha; Peter & Morgan Stark; Avengers Team & Peter Parker; MJ & Ned & Peter; Lila Barton & Peter; Cassie Lang & Peter; Bucky & Peter; Clint & Peter

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; rape/non-con

Tags: kidnapping, homeless Peter; hurt Peter; protective Tony Stark; protective Peter; Peter whump; precious Peter; Peter needs a hug; BAMF Peter; Peter is a little shit; not Avengers Endgame compliant; not Spider-Man Homecoming compliant; protective Yelena; Dead May Parker; domestic Avengers

*incomplete* [last updated Nov 2021]

i’m sorry, sometimes i don’t recognize my face by Charlie_Balle

Fandoms: Black Widow (2021); MCU

Plot: Natasha takes Yelena to Stark Tower. There Yelena meets a man with an issue of collecting children, a woman that doesn't take shit from anyone, and a boy around her age that is all too happy to show her how to be a teenager.

Characters: Yelena Belova; Natasha Romanov; Tony Stark; Pepper Potts; Peter Parker

Relationships: Yelena & Natasha; Natasha & Tony; Yelena & Tony; Pepper/Tony

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; past child abuse; implied childhood sexual abuse; panic attacks; self-harm; disassociation

Tags: child soldiers; yelena needs a hug; protective Natasha; protective Tony; Tony Stark Has a Heart; Tony has an issue with adopting children; precious Peter Parker; Yelena has issues; hurt/comfort; Melina bashing; Alexei bashing

My Notes: this is part of a series, and this particular one is part 3, and I’ve been reading these all out of order, I suggest you read them in order (I still have to, I’ve only read two parts of them, part 3 and 4)

*complete*

as is life, in spite of war by blueh

Fandoms: Spider-Man (All media types); Spider-Man (Tom Holland movies); The Avengers; MCU

Plot: The words blur together just the slightest amount with the sudden dread that curls in his stomach, “—with NBC news reporting live in New York City. Following the release of footage captured by locally acclaimed hero Mysterio, Spider-Man is revealed to be sixteen-year-old high school student Peter Parker. His last known sighting was earlier this afternoon in Times Square. If anyone has any information on his whereabouts, please report it to your local police station—” Sam Wilson drops the remote. “What the fuck?” or: in the aftermath of Mysterio, Sam—along with his accidental roommate Bucky Barnes—find and take in Peter Parker by happenstance. Sam’s not going to get attached to some punk-ass spider-kid from Queens. He’s not.

Characters: Peter; Sam Wilson; Bucky; Happy

Relationships: Bucky & Peter & Sam

Warnings: none

Tags: team as family; fluff and angst; post-Spider-Man: Far From Home; found family; identity reveal; Sam and Bucky were roommates

*complete*

comes with the territory by rexcorvidae

Fandoms: Spider-Man: Homecoming; Daredevil (TV); MCU

Plot: “’S too loud,” Peter slurs, voice barely above a whisper, “Gotta go, ‘s not safe, it hurts, I don’t-“ Shit. Okay, sensory overload. He could deal with that. Peter has his first experience with the downside of enhanced senses, and Matt panics and is soft.

Characters: Matt Murdock; Peter Parker

Relationships: Matt Murdock & Peter Parker

Warnings: none

Tags: hurt/comfort; fluff; sensory overload; protective Matt; worried Matt

My Notes: I can’t get enough of Matt mentoring Peter, hopefully it happens for real!

*complete*

Don’t Be A Stranger by ambivalentangst *favorite*

Fandoms: MCU, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies); Spider-Man (All Media Types)

Plot: Cindy Moon is doing her best. It's not every day a local hero gets accused of murder and disappears, but someone has to pick up his slack, even if she's not sure how she got stuck with the spider powers to do it. Miles Morales is coping. He never really wanted to be a superhero, but he still manages to balance crimefighting and physics, which goes great up until someone posts a video of him and Cindy stopping a mugging online. Peter Parker is fine. Yes, he had to save the universe not even a year ago, and then yes, a man he thought he could trust betrayed him and tried to kill him and all his friends, and yes, said man revealed his secret identity to the word, leaving him to go into hiding at the Stark's cabin, but he's fine. Really. Peter Parker is fine until he sees a video of two Spider-Man impersonators, anyway, and then things happen very quickly. // Or, after his trip to Europe, Peter Parker has some reservations about superheroes popping up out of the blue, and Tony Stark is going to kill a runaway Spider-Man as soon as he finds him.

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark; Cindy Moon; Miles Morales

Relationships: Peter & Tony; Cindy Moon & Peter; Miles Morales & Peter

Warnings: PTSD; depression; paranoia

Tags: post-Spider-Man: Far From Home; angst; whump; Peter Parker whump; sweet Miles Morales; Peter is a Mess; Peter Parker Needs a Hug; Hurt Peter Parker; hurt/comfort; everyone is alive; developing friendships

My Notes: Cindy Moon is my favorite Spider-being and I am so in love with this fic, I’ve read it three times already! Amazing, perfect, everything I want, I am obsessed! And it reads just like a crossover in the comics would, just a jaunty little story about trauma and what it’s like being a spider-being! If you’re going to read any fic on this list, let it be this one!

*complete*

Bleed the Water Red by aloneintherain

Fandoms: Spider-Man (All Media Types); Deadpool (All Media Types); MCU

Plot: Peter and Deadpool are held captive by a super-villain that has an inclination for torture. After she boasts her untarnished record at never having hurt a child or teenager, Peter is forced to break the truth to both her and Deadpool. “Did you know I have a perfect record?” The villain collects a rusted pocket knife, tracing it up Peter’s arm, over his shoulders, down to his collarbone, as though considering where to cut. Peter focuses on controlling his breathing, fear twisting awfully in his belly. “You may look down on me, Mr. Spider-Man, but for all the righteous suffering I inflict, I’ve never hurt a child. Not once.” “Y'know, I don’t think you do,” Peter blurts. At his words, Deadpool's stare intensifies. “Have a perfect, non-child harming record, that is.”

Characters: Peter Parker; Wade Wilson

Relationships: Peter Parker & Wade Wilson

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

Tags: dubious morality; hurt Peter; villains win the not as big of an asshole as you could’ve been award; torture; miscommunication; underage Peter; hurt/comfort; good guy Wade Wilson; fluffy; protective Deadpool; happy ending

My Notes: this was released in 2015 so I think it’s supposed to be Andrew Garfield’s Spidey but I’ve always read this as though it’s Tom Holland’s Spidey, so I don’t think it matters

*complete*

[maple-breeze]

One Hand, One Heart

Word Count: 2.2k, Oneshot, Completed

Rating: G

Details: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Established Relationship, Arthur knows about Merlin's magic, Fluff, only a little angst, Marriage Proposal, Secret Relationship, Secret Wedding, Canon Era, Marry Merthur Month 2019

Summary: The crown prince would never be allowed to wed his servant, especially not one who was also a warlock in a kingdom where magic was banned. They would have to find their own way to be together

Read below or on Ao3

—————————————————————————

“Come on Merlin, hurry up!” Arthur called, “the animals won’t be as slow as you.” They were headed on another hunting trip in the woods near Camelot.

“Nor as fat as you” the man in question replied with a grin while loading up their packs.

“I am not fat.” Arthur said indignantly, heading out the courtyard. Merlin followed suit and they walked out the gates. Although, it wasn’t just a normal hunting trip like they had said, it was their now typical facade for something much better.

Years ago, on that trip to Ealdor, Merlin had told the truth. It had taken Arthur some time to come to terms with his servant’s abilities, but he did, and they were happier for it. Their bond had strengthened, and each felt freer than before.

Awhile later they stumbled upon a new revelation, that this bond they had was even deeper and that they were more than friends, more than brothers.

It had been hard, they each fought with their own heart, and dodged every sign thrown by fate. However, after a moment of great need, it struck them. How much Arthur cared for Merlin, how much Merlin needed Arthur, and the truth of how they felt for one another. Shortly after, they began courting.

The warm sun brushed against Arthur’s neck and the breeze ruffled his hair. They were walking on a large field to the forest, leaving the castle. He looked back into the distance, straining to see the spires again, but the proud stone towers were lost in the horizon. At this realization he smiled and turned to the man next to him. Merlin was staring off into the trees, the sun lighting his face. Arthur reached out and intertwined their hands with a firm squeeze. Merlin turned toward him and smiled at him, a large, bright smile. He brought their clasped hands to his face and pressed a soft kiss to Arthur’s hand.

It was nice like this, not having to hide anything. Back at Camelot, they had to hide everything.

They stole out at night to each other's chambers and snuck kisses in empty corridors. They kept up the act of stubborn prince and cheeky servant in public, as they had done that morning. Such a relationship between master and servant, especially one with magic would never be approved of. There was a sort of thrill to it, the hiding, the lying, the close calls, and midnight visits but they were always on edge, fearing discovery. There, they did not have the simple peace they enjoyed now, all alone in the forest, together.

After walking a bit more, they found a nice, shady clearing in the forest. They set down the weapons they brought to keep up their act. But they had little use for them now and settled under a large oak tree. The grass they sat on was lush and green. The sunlight filtered through the leaves and branches made the place seem unreal, like a dream. But it was not, it was real and they were together. They ate a pleasant meal while talking about all sorts of things. Merlin told stories of his antics in Ealdor, Arthur of his adventures with the knights, as well as discussing the current business in Camelot. They settled into their newfound freedom and their typical banter purveyed and laughter could be heard from afar.

When they finished their meal, Merlin cleaned up with a flick of his hand and a few whispered words. It looked so natural to see him using magic, and he seemed more at home with it than anything else. He sat down, and leaned against a large tree trunk, next to Arthur who moved his head to rest on his shoulder. Merlin placed a kiss on his golden hair and Arthur returned the favor on his cheek. They relaxed into the earth, feeling the kind of lazy freedom permitting doing nothing. They almost dozed off in the warm afternoon haze that rested like a blanket over their skin.

Awhile later they got up, in an attempt to make more use of their day together. They wandered around the forest but didn’t stray too far from the clearing. They soon stumbled across a patch of vibrant wildflowers nestled in an inlet by the side of a hill. They were draped in light through a gap in the canopy of branches above.

Merlin bent down and grabbed a few red and white flowers with a smirk. He hid them behind his back for a moment before offering them to Arthur with a mocking curtsy.

“Your flowers my Lady” he said addressing Arthur. “I always knew you were jealous when I brought flowers to Gwen and Morgana.” Arthur snatched the flowers out of his hand and muttered something teasingly about proper respect for the prince. Merlin simply took the flowers out of his hand and placed one behind the prince’s ear with a kiss.

The moment Merlin turned away, Arthur reached down and picked a small blue flower. When his back was turned again, Arthur captured him in a hug from behind, bringing his arms tight across his body.

“You prat” Merlin said instinctively.

“You know you love me.” Arthur said still holding tight and placing the flower in his prisoner’s neckerchief and leaving a kiss on his jaw. They carried on like that, racing through the woods, catching each other again and again.

Arthur wandered around looking for Merlin, but he couldn’t find him. Then he saw it. A lovely golden object floated in the air, no flew. It came toward him and he realized it was a small dragon, a Pendragon made of dust, wings flapping gently. He watched it in awe, it was beautiful.

Moments later, a blue bird joined the dragon in the air. It spun and flew circles around its partner. It looked like some sort of falcon. A Merlin, of course! Arthur threw his head back in laughter.

“Merlin!” he called, “of course this is you.” The smiling face of the boy in question seemed to appear from behind a nearby tree. Though Arthur swore he wasn’t there a moment ago.

He sauntered over to Arthur who was suddenly stern, “Merlin,” his smile dropped, and he sighed as if it pained him, “Don’t make that a habit” he scolded, “You know what my father would do.” The harsh words hung in the air, piercing the blissful atmosphere they had created. The reality of their situation settled upon them once more. These brief moments of freedom were rare, and it was likely that it would be many years before Arthur took the throne.

“I don’t want to have to rescue your arse from the pyre.” Arthur said halfheartedly, in an attempt to lighten the mood. There was a long pause.

Arthur spoke quietly, “At least, in the future that won’t be a problem. When I am king, I’ll repeal my father’s ban against magic.” He took Merlin’s hand in his own. “You won’t have to hide or live in fear any longer.” He wrapped his arms around the warlock in a tight hug. Arthur’s face pressed against his cheek. He’d heard the words he wanted for so long. Tears of joy sprung in his eyes. The ban would be lifted, and he would be free. This could change everything. It meant everything. The promise of the freedom to be himself.

The promise of a destiny fulfilled.

Arthur pulled his face away from his shoulder. Their faces were inches apart and Merlin could see the deep blue of Arthur’s eyes so clearly. He was about to lean in when Arthur pulled away.

He took a step back, “Merlin, I was thinking…”

“Are you alright sire? I know how hard that is for you.” Merlin’s face stretched into a smile at their ongoing joke, but Arthur’s did not.

“I was thinking” he paused and took a deep breath, “When I am king, you could rule with me.” He looked more nervous than Merlin had ever seen him.

“What I’m trying to say is…” He fumbled with something in his trousers' pocket. “Merlin” he kneeled down and looked up at him, like he would never do normally, due to rank. He held out a silver ring, “Will you marry me?”

Merlin’s face lit up. The lovely demonstrations of his magic earlier were nothing compared to the joy on his face. Then it all fell away.

“But what will it mean for the kingdom?” he asked, “What about an heir?”

“It doesn’t matter” Arthur replied immediately, anticipating his questions, “I can always name an heir.” Merlin still looked hesitant.

“None of that matters, only you.”

The light returned to Merlin’s face, “Yes!” he cried. “Of course, I’ll marry you Arthur.” Those words felt so good on his lips. Arthur stood up and they were together once more in a joyous hug. Moments later their lips met in a soft kiss. Arthur pressed something into his hand, the ring.

“We won’t be able to be properly married for years, so I’m going to give this to you now.” he stated sadly. The ring was exquisite. It had several small jewels that shone brightly in the midday sun, contrasting with the silver band that connected them.

“It’s beautiful...” Merlin said.

“It was my mother’s” Arthur replied with a loving look.

Merlin pushed the ring back into Arthur’s hand, “but why don’t we get married now?” He tugged on Arthur’s hand and led him through a thick cluster of trees and shrubbery. When they emerged, they stood on the edge of a shimmering lake. It was surrounded on all sides by the grand forest and seemed hidden here in a world of its own.

Merlin lead him to the shore, and they stood together, hand in hand. His eyes glowed gold as he spoke a spell. His red neckerchief untied itself and wrapped around their clasped hands, binding them together. It was Arthur who spoke first.

“Merlin, you have always been more than a servant to me.” Arthur looked him in the eye “You have been loyal to me all this time, despite the cruelty towards those with magic. But you have been more than a loyal servant to me, much more. You are my friend and supported me when there was no one else who would care to hear the troubles of a prince. You have helped me all this time and saved my life, more times than I will ever know.” He held his hands tighter, “And for that I thank you.” He paused and smiled, “But most of all, you have given me love and a belief in a brighter future, for us and everyone else.” He waited a moment then said, “Your turn.”

“Arthur Pendragon, ever since I met you, you have been a bigger prat than I ever could’ve imagined.” Arthur gave him a look, “but you have also been incredibly noble and kind and accepted me, despite everything. I love you with all of myself and look forward to our future together.”

Merlin said some more words Arthur didn’t understand and the cloth on their hands grew warmer as he spoke. It fell off and Arthur reached for the ring again. Merlin eyes glowed once more and a similar gold one appeared.

“I already had this for you too, I was just grabbing it.” He said simply as if that was all it was.

Merlin took Arthur’s hand and placed the gold ring on his finger. It glistened in the afternoon sun, matching with the prince’s hair.

“I take thee, Arthur Pendragon to be my husband” Merlin said, unable to stop smiling. Arthur followed suit.

“I take thee, Merlin to be my husband,” he paused to slide the ring on Merlin’s finger, “and rule by my side.” His smile grew just as big as Merlin’s. “Together we will bring Camelot into her golden age.”

They spoke together, “With one hand, one heart, we are forever joined. “ “As sides of coin we stay together,” Merlin continued.

“Through trials and triumphs,” Arthur added “In desolation and despair” “In joy and life” “We are forever bound together, becoming, one hand, one heart, one life. And even death cannot part us.”

A moment later, they flung their arms around each other and kissed. Merlin’s arms wrapped around Arthur’s neck drawing him in closer. Arthur’s hands settled on his waist and they were completely enveloped in each other.

At the kiss, time seemed to resume. Though they were alone, they heard the cheers of people the clanging of bells, the truth of their future together. Though that was not now, one day it would be. Together they would wait.

They sat by the lakeshore through afternoon, their boots off and feet in the water. Merlin finished putting a glamor spell on the rings to not arouse suspicion.

They sat there, side by side, so much more than master and servant, more than prince and warlock, as equals, forever bonded by their promises to each other. Hand in hand they would wait till the future they dreamed of became their present. However, none of that mattered.

Their smiles grew bigger and laughter louder and kisses more frequent. They had each other and that was enough.

[wastetimeandtype]

37. Talk about your current wips.

Oh dearrr. I’ll pick ten WIPs I’ve worked on recently!

1) Okay so ‘firebending’ is a WIP where Korra drags Mako to the fire sage temple she visited in book 2 to learn about firebending as healing to see if it can help his arm. Wacky miscommunication occurs, but maybe,,,, they’ll be better friends at the end of it. I’ve written the big emotional scenes but it turns out I like thinking about bending and the magic system but I don’t like writing it. Slowly making progress on these scenes. Hopefully publishable soon, likely around six short chapters.

2) ‘Family Matters’ is a fic where Wu confesses to Mako at the wedding that he likes him, Mako’s like sorry, I’m straight... but then the fic is about Mako’s internalised homophobia/biphobia throughout his childhood which conflicts with the fact he realised he does have feelings for Wu and men in general. Fun stuff! Bolin is a good bro in this. Just kind of slow going, I’ve written scenes from all eras of Mako’s life but it isn’t a coherent story yet.

3) Huan and Mako— what if Huan and Mako dated? This was meant to be crack but I wrote it seriously and picked up again recently. I think Mako x Huan is a weird opposites attract pairing.

4) Cinderella— Korra is a young witch in training to her Uncle Unalaq who is the Grand Witch. Asami is Prince Charming. Her Dad throws a ball to have her get married. It’s as stupid as it sounds, it’s something I wrote last year but haven’t quite finished it yet.

5) mako arm injury depression— Mako’s injury won’t heal like he hoped, Mako spirals whilst trying to maintain a long distance relationship with Wu. Might overhaul into a non wuko platonic krew story, but I’m also still fond of the wuko, so uhhh.

6) hui sequel— sequel to ‘five dates at Kwong’s’ that NO-ONE asked for. Basically just a combination of working through some of Mako’s issues in relationships and and his past childhood trauma whilst also having the fun concept of ‘what if someone hilariously boring and normal person dated a member of team Avatar?’ I started to write a sequel to the sequel in the same document, so, I’m invested at least. The sequel’s sequel is just Mako whump idk.

7) Schitt’s Creek Au— I love this! Literally just Wu moves into the motel of the town he owns when he loses all of his money. Mako works there. Sparks fly, eventually. Slow burn. I realise I am folding a lot of my Stardew Valley AU into this but this AU easier to write than that. More of a drama than the show it’s based on, just a lot of growth for Wu and pining for Mako, with a boat load of angst in the tv show as well.

8)Personal Assistant— Korra is a single mum who co-parents with her ex Mako, whilst also managing to get a job as Asami’s Sato’s personal assistant. This is both Korra wants to bang her hot boss whilst also having relationship drama with her ex. I wrote this because I was annoyed that single parent AU’s always have the father absent. Mako is a good Dad! Maybe just a bad boyfriend. This is an old AU that I picked up again recently.

9) Lonely Hearts— Bolin writes an (obviously anonymous) advertisement for Mako in the ‘Lonely Hearts’ (personal advertisement in the USA, but lonely hearts is funnier) column of a newspaper. Mako writes a letter of complaint to the newspaper that they need a stronger vetting process for this because he didn’t submit this. The editor of the columns responds and she is bemused. Rom com hijinks ensue. This is so weirdly specific to my tastes ahhh.

10) Makorrasami fic. Me trying to write a realistic take on pair-book 4 Makorrasami where Korrasami is already canon but Mako has lingering feelings for Korra, Mako and Asami then develop a closer bond, and Korra realised she still has feelings for Mako. It’s a big mess! Very new and only a couple hundred words in, I hope I can gain some momentum with it.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Soulmates

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 survival is a talent by ShanaStoryteller Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  367490 Tags: Soulmate AU, Indian Harry Potter, Black Hermione Granger, canon? i don't know her, Slow Build, Lucius Malfoy is a bad person but a good father, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Smart Draco Malfoy, I'm offended that's a tag OF COURSE he's smart, sometimes bad things happen, but this fic isn't out to hurt you, Secret Relationship, Slytherins and Gryffindors being reluctant friends, Plotty, suprising lack of focus on soulmates for a soulmate au Summary:  In the middle of their second year, Draco and Harry discover they're soulmates and do their best to keep it a secret from everyone. Their best isn't perfect. ~ “Are you trying to get killed, Potter?” Malfoy drawls, stalking forward. Quick as a serpent himself, he reaches out and grabs the snake just below the head. It thrashes in his grip, but is no longer able to bite anyone. “This is a poisonous snake, and I doubt anyone brought a bezoar with them.” Harry glares. He opens his mouth, and feels the beginning the snake’s language pass his lips, and this isn’t what he wants, what’s the point of insulting Malfoy if he can’t understand him – Malfoy’s eyes widen. He slaps his hand over Harry’s mouth, “Potter, what the hell–” ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Vortex by xanthippe74 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  20625 Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, POV Draco Malfoy, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Azkaban, Knockturn Alley, Redemption, Poverty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, brief mention of past suicide attempt, brief mention of past self-harm, Past medical abuse (over-prescription of Calming Draught), Non-graphic off-screen injury Summary:  “Don’t worry, my dearest one,” Draco’s mother told him when he confided his worries to her. When he was old enough to feel the pangs of adolescent longing, but still too young to sense the storm gathering around them. “Magic will overcome any distance or obstacles to bring two soulmates together when the time is right. Circumstances will arise that steer them in the right direction; strange coincidences will make their paths cross again and again. Then the most wondrous moment arrives, when you both realize that your soulmate, your perfect match, stands before you, and from that day forward your hearts will be one.” Ten years after that conversation, the idea of perfectly-matched soulmates feels more like a curse than a blessing to Draco. Who would want a soulmate who was a schoolyard bully, a Death Eater, and a convicted felon? Certainly not Harry Potter. And Draco is determined to take this secret to the grave. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Tie My Heart to Yours by Craftybadger1234 Rated:  Mature Words:  36661 Tags: Rape/Non-conHogwarts Eighth Year, Potions, Red String of Fate, Soulmates, Depression, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Child Abuse, Angst, Getting to Know Each Other, Mild Sexual Content, Mildly Dubious Consent, Fluff, Bisexual Draco Malfoy, Happy Ending Summary:  For fun, Slughorn has the eighth year students brew a potion to reveal their Red Strings of Fate. Harry doesn't know what to think about being tied to Draco. Or how to make a relationship work between them. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Highly (in)Compatible by daisymondays Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  36828 Tags: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Romance, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Post-Hogwarts, Denial of Feelings, anxiety mention, References to Depression, Panic Attacks, Forced Dating, Enthusiastic Consent, POV Draco Malfoy, Humor, Magical Theory, Soulmate Theory, HP: EWE, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Forced Proximity Summary:  Draco’s been shagging The Prat Who Lived on and off for a few months when his soul mark starts to change. Draco’s had to accept a lot of adjustments to his life, but accepting that Harry Potter could be his soulmate is one step too far. It can’t be true? Can it? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Tale of Woo by Veritas03 Rated:  Mature Words:  25330 Tags: N/A Summary:  Harry’s a bit of a mess, despite a successful Quidditch career. Draco’s not too much of a mess, but believes his life is as good as it’s likely to get. Both want something more. Fate is going to help them out with that. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 With You, Always by acupforslytherin Rated:  Mature Words:  14542 Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Explicit Sex, Dreams, Lullabies, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, hearing, TasteofSmut 2020 Summary:  All his life, Harry repeatedly hears one same calming tune in his dreams. No one seems to recognize the mysterious song, until one day, Harry catches Malfoy humming it when he thinks he's alone. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Not By Duty Are We Bound by Dreaming_of_a_Bright_Sky Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  17176 Tags: Graphic Depictions of ViolenceAU, Soul Bond, Hurt/Comfort Summary:  Draco Malfoy has saved Harry's life so many times that it's joked about (and even bet upon) by the Aurors Harry works with. When Harry finds out how and why, it forces him to see a reality that he'd been blinding himself too. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 All Our New Years by Frayach Rated:  Mature Words:  2525 Tags: New Year's Eve, Soulmates, Minor Character Death Summary:  It takes too many New Year's Eves without each other but eventually they get it right. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Changing Tides by carpemermaid Rated:  Explicit Words:  109687 Tags: Bisexual Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Dumbledore's Army, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Auror Draco Malfoy, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Patronus, Gardens & Gardening, Cultural References, POV Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Fifth Year, POV Alternating, POV Harry Potter, Wandless Magic, Coming of Age, Mutual Pining, War AU, Romance, Falling In Love, Humor, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Healing, Post-War, Ministry of Magic, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Soulmates, Community: hd_erised, Sexual Fantasy, Wet Dream, Snogging, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Penetrative Sex, Emotional Sex, Hand Jobs, Professor Harry Potter, Person of Color Harry Potter Summary:  Draco has spent half of his life spouting the things his father has taught him without much thought about how he feels about what he says. When he unexpectedly comes face to face with the Dark Lord, he grapples with the harsh realities of the world and struggles with his changing views on life. Instead of doing what’s expected of him fifth year, he joins Dumbledore’s Army and learns how to defend himself, how to make his own choices, and how he can be something greater than his father’s example as he grows into his own man rather than his father’s shadow. The choices he makes change both his and Harry’s fates, intertwining their paths until they converge. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Everything a Word Can Mean by OTPshipper98 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  2355 Tags: Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Sectumsempra Scars, Pre-Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Post-Hogwarts, Foot Massage, Nicknames, Cuddles, Happy Ending, Drunken Confessions, Getting Together Summary:  In a world where magical people are born with the nickname their soulmate will call them by tattooed on their skin... what does it mean that the word on Harry's chest is the thing he hates to be called the most? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Danse Russe by Frayach Rated:  Explicit Words:  140119 Tags: Novella, Soulmates, Angst, HP: EWE, Explicit Sexual Content, World Travel, not a wip Summary:  True Love. Soul Mates. They're just words until put to the test. Harry and Draco have a bond that was forged in the hell of the post-war years and pulled them both back from an abyss of nihilism and self-destruction. Nothing can break it, or so they believed. But True Love can demand sacrifices too great to bear and deeds too terrible to justify. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A breath worth of life by Explicit Rated:  Explicit Words:  39791 Tags: H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Soulmates, Terminal Illnesses, Death, Preparing for Death, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, breaking up, Loneliness, Depression, Self-Hatred, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Suicidal Thoughts, Heavy Drinking, Therapy, Grief counselling, Vomit, Hospitals, Cruise, Pirates, Treasure hunts, parenting, blended families - Freeform, It Takes a Village to Raise a Child, Magic Theory, Healer Hermione Granger, Cursebreaker Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Accidental Bonding, love is the most powerful magic, Breathplay, Domesticity, Weddings, proposal, vactioning, hermione deserves all the awards, Kópakonan saves the day, Italians do it better, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Draco is father of the year, Ron is father of the year, Harry is not even in the competition, PoC Harry, POC Hermione, Long-Haired Draco Malfoy, long-haired Harry Potter, Short-haired Draco, Short-haired Harry, questionable medical ethics get handwaved here for the sake of fun, close encounters with ponies puffins sheep and other assorted fauna, Trans Luna Lovegood, Casual Sex Summary:  ‘...that moment when everything clicks into place, when the circumstances are right, your magic aligns, and you touch your soulmate. You'll know then, Draco, my darling.’ His mother used to look at his father with such devotion then. ‘It will feel like breathing fresh air for the first time, you'll know you'd been living on borrowed time until then but no more. There is an entire lifetime in that one breath.’ Finding your soulmate is the one way a wix can hope to live past thirty, but if he can’t have that with Astoria, Draco is ready to check out, let his magic eat him up and be done. Harry, on the other hand, isn’t about to leave any stone unturned or path unbeaten until he finds the one person meant for him before that fated birthday rolls around. After every failed attempt he grows more and more convinced that whatever Voldemort did to him might have made him unlovable, but he will go down fighting if he has to. Hermione still thinks the whole thing is cancer but what does she know? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Today, Forever by PalenDrome (nerdherderette), PotterArt Rated:  Explicit Words:  60958 Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Voyeurism, Frottage, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Anal Sex, Auror Harry Potter, Veela Draco Malfoy, Winged Draco Malfoy, Veela Mates, Bonding, Soulmates, Enemies to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Draco Malfoy/OMC (brief), Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Case Fic, Minor Violence, Minor Character Death, Magical Theory, Magical Biology, Muggle and Wizarding Technology, Digital Art, Embedded Images, Harry/Draco Big Bang 2018, Community: harrydracobang Summary:  As if his recent divorce and sleepless nights weren’t bad enough, a rash of escalating crimes against purebloods forces Harry and his team of Aurors to protect the riskiest target in all of Wizarding Britain. Of course, Draco Malfoy would still be ridiculously infuriating and impossibly gorgeous. As well as a Veela. Who happens to be Harry’s mate. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Dragon Heartstrings by JET_Playin Rated:  Explicit Words:  23825 Tags: Soulmates, Red String of Fate, Explicit Sexual Content, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Angst, Fluff, Romance, Implied Relationships, Top Harry, Bottom Draco, Falling In Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Tall!Harry, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Harry, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:  Draco has seen the strings for almost as long as he can remember, but they don't mean anything. Anything at all.... ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Love and Paranoia by sunnyeclipses Rated:  Explicit Words:  48547 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Addiction recovery, Near Death Experiences, Overdosing, Relapsing, Drinking, Partying, Drunkenness, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, wall punching, Concern Over Someone Else's Weight, Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Pining, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, Explicit Sexual Content, Self-Esteem Issues, Auror Harry Potter, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Domestic, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Minor Theodore Nott/Pansy Parkinson, Minor Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Hurtful Comments About Drug Use, Brief suicide ideation, Christmas, Pets, Sharing a Bed, Weddings, supportive friends, Forced Proximity, classic literature, H/D Erised 2020 Summary:  When Harry finds out his soulmate is none other than Draco Malfoy, he genuinely expects his life to go to shit. It doesn't help that Draco is an addict, coasting on reality-altering highs to feel something happy, something pure just once more before the comedown. What Harry doesn't expect is to care so much that it tears him apart at the seams. A story about love, drugs, and getting better. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Every Me and Every You by bixgirl1 Rated:  Explicit Words:  69300 Tags: Forced Proximity, bed sharing, Legilimency, Veritaserum, Snark, Magical Theory, Tropes (please read author's note!), EWE, Falling In Love, Frotting, Mutual Masturbation, Rimming, magical sex, Really just all the sex, Gift Fic, UST, RST, Soulmates Summary:  Harry liked his life just fine, thankyouverymuch — so it was bad enough when a sly fairy cursed him to leap into alternate realities. But seeing Malfoy in all of them? Definitely way too much. And worse yet: needing the bastard's help to figure out how to get out of of it. It was a disaster waiting to happen, really. Well... probably. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass Rated:  Mature Words:  20730 Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soul Bond, Red String of Fate, Heavy Angst, Terminal Illnesses, Major Illness, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:  When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want. He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try. ❤️ Read on AO3

[whatsaboomlakalaka]

fic writer interview!

thanks for the tag @grantairesbottle !!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

20 ! how did that happen !

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

56,068

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

5 on ao3 but really 4 bc I think Original Work + Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game) count as one (its backstory for one of my PCs)

the others are Les Miserables, Dimension 20 (specifically Fantasy High) and Life with Derek

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

What To Expect When You're Expecting A Soulmate - (Dimension 20 (Fantasy High)) - Fig/Ayda - the figayda soulmark au nobody asked for but i wrote anyway - classic first words your soulmate will say to you are written on your body somewhere, bc with their first interaction how could i NOT. 2k, oneshot!

Llamas and Siblings and Pies, Oh my! - (Life with Derek) - Casey/Derek - texting fic! the whole family's involved! i don't know how to describe this one except ridiculous and very fun! 4k, oneshot!

Bump In The Night - (Life with Derek) - Casey/Derek - a mix of soulmark aus from a 3am prompt that i wrote in 40mins and didn't read through before i posted. wild that its this high up tbh. 600 words, ficlet!

A Pretty Good Bad Idea - (Life with Derek) - Casey/Derek - summer vibes prompt that's actually just pwp - everyone loves smut OPPPPP. 2.5k, oneshot!

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger - (Les Miserable) - Enjolras/Grantaire - again, everyone loves smut? this fic is so old omg but yeah i guess its a thing i wrong. canon-compliant pwp. 2k, oneshot!

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! Always! I love to chat come talk to me!!

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

God, right. Do we mean angst like "everyone's about to die"? Because if so, What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger, again, or Just Open Your Eyes - but they're both Les Mis and like. Is death angst in canon-era Les Mis bc idt it is???

Non-death related, I'm going with Evacuate The Dancefloor. Mostly because it was going to end happily and then the last 40 words just came out of nowhere but like. It had to. Idk. Sad wanking innit.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Hmmm I haven't written any with like crossed over characters but I like putting people in different settings. Hogwarts AUs etc. And like. My Life with Derek Tag AU, cleverly just titled "Tag".

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Writing for small fandoms is a blessing, no.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yeah but like I'm not comfortable writing it really? But sometimes I do it to challenge myself and those are always the fics with the best stats which is WILD.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, not that I'm aware of!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nel said this too in hers lol but like. No posts fic, but RP. A lot of RP.

Also @nosybutterfly and I have the starting of a Life with Derek one but we've both been working on separate things recently - Em we should get back to it !!!

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

The ship that first got me into fanfiction was Harry/Ginny (Harry Potter). But I've probably read more Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Miserables) than anything else. Plus Combeferre/Courfeyrac (also Les Mis). Honourable mentions to: Beck/Johanssen (The Martian), Josh/Donna (The West Wing), Laurie/Amy (Little Women), and Casey/Derek (Life with Derek).

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Nothing has been posted of it yet but I've got this one Ballet Dancer!Casey/Photographer!Derek Long Distance AU and. Eurgh. One day.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I think I manage to get a lot of info into not a lot of words. I also think I'm funny but who knows what everyone else thinks.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I start so many things I know I'll never finish yikes

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter - I don't even remember my old username but it was on Sink Into Your Eyes, back in the day.

Also Firefly - mostly on fireflyfans.net

19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

A Thousand Years Go By (Love Don’t Die) - Life with Derek - Derek/Casey - the mcturi siblings are paranormal investigators checking out sam's new mansion-come-hotel. 8k, oneshot!

this fic hit me like a fever dream and i could think of nothing else until it was written. its also got just... so few hits compared to my other dasey fics and that makes me sad sometimes ngl.

Tagging anyone who wants to do it! Say I tagged you and I'll back you up!!

[one-d-library]

Canon Compliant 50k+

I’ve rec’d nearly all of these fics but I just wanted to put them together into one rec. More will be added as time goes on of course :) 

~

Untangle Me by suicxne {explicit, 103k, 11 chapters, MITAM era, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, domestic fluff, pining, first time, smut}

Louis finds himself out of place in LA, unable to get at an itch that’s been bothering him for years. He supposes back in the early days, home hadn’t been a place. It’d been a person. He’d etched it permanently into his skin for fucks sake. It was always him and Harry. Stuck to each other like super glue. Pulled together by some magnetic force, existing in their own bubble. Everyone could see it, but that was half the problem, wasn’t it?

It’s not like Louis can pinpoint the exact moment in time when him and Harry fell out of sync. There wasn’t really one at all. It had been a gradual slip, like the tide wearing away at a sandstone cliff. Chipping the solid foundations until there was nothing left to stop the structure falling to the waves below. It’s not like he spends all of his time sitting around moping over a lost friendship, he’s good at distractions. But LA only seems to accentuate the distance between them. Two separate planets, not even in the same solar system.

Or the one where Harry and Louis finally get it right.

~

It Goes, It’s Golden by lucythegoosey {explicit, 150k, 14 chapters, MITAM era, OTRA era, alternating POV, flashbacks, slow burn, fluff, angst, smut, coming out, first time}

The chaos Zayn left in his wake wouldn't feel so disastrous if Harry had Louis. But everything between them crashed and burned a long time ago. All Harry is left with is a hopeless longing and a fear that the band's current disarray will set in for good.

... And then he finds himself stuck on a sixteen hour plane trip with Louis Tomlinson. This could either be the most awkward flight of Harry's life, or the beginning of an atonement he's been dreaming of since 2013.

Canon Compliant AU in which Harry and Louis broke under the strain of it all and now, years on, there's a chance to put all the pieces back together. Set in early April 2015 all the way through to October. Written in Harry and Louis' perspectives, alternating every chapter.

~ 

And Then a Bit by infinitelymint {explicit, 158k, 14 chapters, fake relationship, friends to lovers, smut, fluff, pining, angst}

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

~

Photograph by orphan_account (s) ------- PDF {mature, 207k, canon compliant, canon divergent, ot5 friendship + involvement, side ziam, angst, slow burn}

Harry steadies his jaw. “What do you want from me?” Louis’ bottom lip wobbles. “I’m not gay.” “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” And at that, Louis seems to completely lose his shit. He rushes towards Harry, banging his fists on Harry’s collarbones in a frenzy, and begins yelling-- “I hate you! I hate you! I fucking hate you so much!” Tears are rushing down his cheeks, and then he’s shoving Harry away, drunk out of his ass, causing Harry to stumble back a bit. Louis then begins to clutch at himself, fisting his own clothes to his chest, dribble falling from his mouth, his arms shaky and his back hunched. “Fuckfuckfuckufkcufkc!” He spits, face contorted, hands trembling. “I hate you!” “No, you don’t.” Harry steps forward, face concerned. “You don’t hate me.” - An epic love story in which Harry is too in love for his own good, Louis is in denial of his sexuality, and they write songs instead of actually talking to each other.

~

more fic recs can be found here!

[wyvernquill]

WyvernQuill's GOOD OMENS Works - Masterpost

Hello everybody, hope you're doing well in these turbulent times! I figured now would be as good a time as any to compile all my GO fics here, so anyone affected by quarantine/social distancing measures can treat themselves to a bit of Ineffable Goodness if they're so inclined. (All of these are Aziraphale/Crowley, with the occasional side pairing thrown in, and all of them have/will have a happy ending, no matter what!)

So, without further ado:

Good Endings (56k, completed, T): humorous post-canon slow burn with ensemble cast matchmakers, angst, and Pratchettisms abound; book canon, mostly written pre-show, with plenty of illustrations!

Flies and Furniture (<1k, completed, G): Ineffable Bureaucracy gets lost in an IKEA. That's it, that's the fic. More than a bit cracky, obviously.

Marriage and Misery (10k, completed, M): Regency-era marriage of convenience, lots of pining and misunderstandings; human AU, but pointed avoidance of period-typical homophobia - Aziraphale has many struggles to overcome, but being gay ain't one of 'em!

Team Ineffable - A Pokémon GOmens Story (3k, completed, G): humorous meet-cute fluff with a bit of a crack twist, in which Crowley and his one (1) braincell try to pass him off as a Pokémon Go expert to impress Aziraphale; human AU, no real knowledge of Pokémon Go required.

By Any Other Name (12k, completed, T): soulmate names AU with a bit of a twist, full of pining and misunderstandings. Crowley's name reads "Aziraphale", but Aziraphale's doesn't read "Crowley"...; follows canon through the 6000 years of slow burn, part of a Soulmate AU pact with Lurlur and Pearl09 - do read their fantastic fics here and here, too!

All's Fair In Love And Serial Killing (10k, completed, M, graphic violence): serial killer/cop AU that is far cuter and sillier than that premise suggests - apparently I can't write anything without a twist to it; human AU, mind the warnings, minor character death but only bad guys, unreliable-narrator!Crowley.

Yes and Please and Thank You (19k, ongoing, T): lots of angst, Crowley has been under an obedience curse since before meeting Aziraphale and it causes Problems(tm); first two chapters follow canon, everything after is post-canon, some Adam&The Them feels thrown in for flavour.

AN ANTICHRISTMAS CAROL (7k, ongoing, T): retelling of A Christmas Carol but with more of a romance plot; human/Victorian AU, written in the style of Dickensian prose.

Born To Take Care Of You (18k, completed, M): reverse!Omens mutual pining and mistaken identity, featuring Azirafell, Baron of Eternal Torments, and the Archangel Raphael pretending to be merely a demon called Crowley; reverse AU, obviously, follows the 6000 years of slow burn.

Tied Up With String (comic, completed, G): silly little fluff comic for the Christmas season, featuring atrocious self-knitted sweaters.

The Whole Damned World Seemed Upside Down (102k, completed, M): my GOBB fic! Crowley in opposite-world, humour, second apocalypse, lots of angst and pining with a happy ending. Ensemble cast, but, y'know, OPPOSITE ensemble. Main selling points include: Death doting over an adorable kitten, the Not-Them, Notziraphale actually selling his books, and secret library parties!; one-year-post-show canon. Also has beautiful art, and a fantastic mini-sequel by @rosiepaw!

Here's some more fics that I can only take partial credit for, so to speak:

COLLAB WORKS WITH VARIOUS OTHER AUTHORS:

Correction Fluid (16k, completed, E): very very smutty, and very very kinky. Doing your taxes (yes, really) has never been so hot - I was mostly involved in the form of 50+ humorous footnotes, all the wonderful sex is the work of... entirely too many fantastic fellow authors who just went feral in a Google doc.

Correction Fluid [ART] (art, completed, M): see above - sexy collab art for sexy collab fic, coloured by the awesome robynthemagpie!

Līgfāmblāwende (5k, completed, G): St. George and the Dragon, except it's Crowley and he's really just playing along with it for laughs. Light-hearted and fun!

Of Good Books & Black Omens (11k, completed, T): crossover with Black Books - Aziraphale and Bertram strike up a friendship over hating the customers of their respective bookshops, and Crowley feels replaced; Manny, meanwhile, is just along for the ride. Knowledge of Black Books enriches the experience, but possible to read just for Aziraphale and Crowley, as well.

My Fair Angel (14k, completed, G): writing all done by the amazing @handlebarstiedtothestars, I only did the illustrations. Retelling of My Fair Lady, in which Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to pass off the Them as little heirs and an heiress; includes lots of delicious, delicious pining and genderqueer!Crowley in Audrey Hepburn's beautiful dresses.

Miami Ice (3k, ongoing, T): a present for @aughtpunk, built around their prompt of Aziraphale and Crowley being responsible for the Under Pressure sample in Ice Ice Baby - now with extra Florida, alligators, NASA, and space!

And, I only drew for these, but can personally vouch for their fantasticness, so what the Hell, they get included in this list, too!

GOBB FICS I DID ART FOR:

Panem Et Circenses (89k, completed, T), by @thelittleblackfox: Aziraphale and Crowley take part in the Great British Bake-Off. Need I say more? Absolutely brilliantly written and downright delicious, and you'll LOVE Mel and Sue!!! Not a human AU, but canon divergence - slown burn, and lots and lots of mutual pining.

Butterflies In A Bell Jar (31k, completed, T), by @still-not-king:two office workers meet, hit it off, and fall in love, almost as if they've always known each other... but why is the office's non-fraternisation policy so unforgivingly strict, and what's the deal with their odd bosses? An absolutely wonderful office human!AU... or IS IT!?!? ;)

All The World's A Stage (16k, completed, G), by @ifeelbetterer: theatre students Adam and Warlock are matchmaking between their professors Crowley and Aziraphale, and maybe, possibly, perhaps, growing fond of each other in turn... adorable, full of pining, and some big misunderstandings all around!

Tadfield Heat (15k, completed, M), by @vodkertonic: do you like Hot Fuzz? Then you'll love this one! Crowley and Belle (Beelzebub) are detectives in a tiny little village, and their respective crushes, bookshop owner Aziraphale and the strange new American in town may or may not actually be spies... Ineffable Bureaucracy and Ineffable Husbands, an absolute delight!

Roman Holiday (30k, completed, G), by @percyjacksonfan3: beautiful, touching retelling of the movie, featuring genderfluid!Crowley (and a less bittersweet ending than the original, rest assured!)

All of these five are absolutely fantastic fics I am honoured to have had the privilege of drawing for, and I promise you're going to enjoy every single one!!!

That's all of them for now, though rest assured I have more planned - I'll update this list if any of the ongoing fics get completed, or if I start a new one. Please enjoy, and stay safe everyone!

^-^ <3

(And here's some dancing book!Husbands for you, just because!)