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shuuen-no-cimory · 2 months

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To Cook a Lobster, Start by Breaking its Shield [A Projectmoon OC Fanfiction]

Language: English Rating: M

WARNING: Violence, gore, heavy language, Blood, mention of cannibalism– The usual District 23 shenanigans, really.]

PREVIEW: “Oh yes, praise me! I know my dish is so amazing it catches you speechless now!”

She’s fucking insane and he’s royally messed up. How could he mess up his very first escort mission? Not to mention when the client was a person quite THAT important? How would his leader respond TO THIS?

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Notes: This is a one year old long fanfic of my fixer OC (Theta) and my friend Geppie on Discord's fixer OC (Nero), sets in District 23 Mirror World AU! I did the illust since last year but ony manage to finish this fic yesterday to celebrate 1st year anniversary of our Project Moon TTRPG campaign, Tunas Office! I hope you may enjoy it!

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A shield exists to protect.

A shield has to be sturdy and immovable, no matter what it has to endure.

That’s how a Zwei Fixer is idealistically supposed to be. Whoever asks for their protection, whenever it is, and wherever they have to be, a Zwei Fixer shall be ready to shield them from any trouble. They'll stand for their client, for the people in The City. However, one may have a question: what if they're the one who fell into trouble themselves? Who would wield the shield for them?

This question came to Theta's mind as she sharpened her carving knife. Her eye wouldn't stop bouncing from the glisten over its blade to the Zwei Association badge tucked on the unconscious man's jacket.

Today's batch came in a bit earlier through her backdoor, surprisingly it was a plus-one batch. It might be great to get a free meat stock, but having too much on a day? That'd be wasteful. Not to mention when this plus-one could be quite a trouble to handle if not dealt properly.

"... Guess I shouldn't have been so greedy..." a frown appeared on the corner of her lips while she shed off unnecessary parts of the meat in her hands, "Now, what to do with that one?"

A click of tongue escaped her lips. It's not that she's ungrateful with the bountiful harvest she had today. Hell, these ingredients were scarce in this type of business niche. However, dealing with them is a problem by itself. To immediately cut up the meat right after she had her hands on it would make it last shorter. It wouldn't be fresh enough when she served them inside her meat pie. On the other hand, keeping them alive for a little longer would be even a greater risk to her.

In an honest opinion, she'd never expect there'll be a day where she could catch a man under Zwei's protection AND The escort from Zwei himself. In a package, nonetheless.

Oh, well, fuck it. She should focus on the main batch she's working on for the day. Can't be distracted for too long.

The knife meticulously carved out the meat from the bones, quite satisfactory despite the imperfections of her work. Slicing meat wasn't as different as crafting wooden charms, anyway. Both were delicate works that had to be done precisely with care and attention, any small mistakes could waste a good ingredient.

Just when she put the carved out meat into her basket, she heard a groan. Her head immediately turned to the source.

Oh, thought that Zwei guy had woken up, he was only disturbed while in his slumber. She only had half the usual dosage of sedative left but luckily, this man’s constitution was suck ass.

Theta approached the light haired man and kneeled down right in front of his peaceful figure. What a sight! A man so young and pretty, sleeping like Snow White in the corner of her kitchen!

In a way, he’s sort of an eye-sore.

Even if he looked bulky thanks to the layered Zwei’s outfit, he’s a bit too lean for her liking. That white hair with some black streaks might look great if dipped into some red soup, though. And what’s with the eyepatch? If it means his eyes or left face has injury, that also lessens the quality of his organ. The meat on his arms could possibly be a bit too gamey from intense arm workouts. A Zwei usually needed that type of workout so they could hold their weapon with both hands, or so that’s what her best friend said a long time ago.

(Also it’s not like he seemed that much younger than her. If anything, they were probably only a year or two apart.)

Once again she checked off the binding she made on his wrists and ankles, shook it lightly to check its fastness. All pockets and hidden compartments on his clothing had been ransacked as well, resulting in a pile of small weapons and a couple of identifications. She didn’t bother to strip this man off, she wasn’t even sure if she’d cook him up, knowing the circumstance. Though she has to deal with different kinds of men every day, Theta was yet no more than a mere feeble chef, fighting against a fixer (especially one who works under an Association) was off the charts. In all fairness, this was also her first time acquiring a game this extraordinary, a little precautions wouldn’t hurt, no?

Once she was done with the check up, there’s only one last thing to add. ‘Let’s not scare this man once he wakes up,’ that’s the idea that popped up in her mind. Thus, Theta put a black sack over his head. With this, she didn’t have to look at his sorry mug any longer!

Theta returned back to her work, moving the fresh ingredients to the freezer and preparing her oven to bake the day’s meat pies batch. After that, she was usually supposed to package her warm pies and serve it for the customer. Once daybreak came, she would close her store and wait for yet another new batch of hunts to step onto her traps. Rinse and repeat, day in and day out. Even after 5 years running this business, these redundant cycles never got any lighter.

Perhaps it’s the time to get some helping hands…? Oh, who was she kidding.

***

The Zwei man felt a great pain on his head. Whatever that shit was, it bonked his head too damn hard. Who the fuck set up a prank THAT dangerous on someone’s back door? And why was it so dark in here? He couldn’t see anything!

A faint noise of clothing being rubbed and soft hums reached his ears. The voice would be comforting if his nose wasn't assaulted by the odor of rust and decay that wafted in the air. It got stronger each moment until he gagged to death. Urgh, he must cover his mouth-

“... What? Wait, the fuck?”

The black sack that covered the Fixer’s head moved frantically on the corner of Theta’s vision. She stopped polishing her cleaver knife and turned her head to the obnoxious noises which disrupted her humming. Oh, well, the cute escort should’ve woken up from his slumber anytime soon or else she’d dump his body somewhere.

He wasn’t ready when the sack suddenly pulled off from his head. Splashes of crimson replaced the suffocating darkness. Among the gores, a tint of gold staring right at his own bloodshot eye.

“Fine morning isn’t it, sir Zwei Fixer- oh, wait,” Theta pulled out his Nest citizenship out of her breast pocket, waving it right in front of his face, “How rude of me, sorry. I mean, sir Nero? Had a nice nap, didn’tcha?”

Theta kneeled right before the man, a playful smile adorned her round face. That would be a cute encounter if only Nero didn’t feel the piercing tip of her carving knife dug on his throat. Nero held back his breath, shutting up and stared back at the red haired woman. It was good that he knew better to keep his composure, especially in front of a freak like her. After all, if she aimed for his meat, she’d have slit his neck right away, not merely use the tip of her knife to lift his chin up.

“Nap? You mean that blunt force trauma on my head?” He gave her a wary laugh, trying not to shit his pants and puked from the gruesome scenery hanging behind the woman, “Thanks for the nap, my boss would definitely nag at me if he knew I had one while on the clock.”

Speaking of work,

“Right, of course you were at work. It doesn’t make sense some random Fixer would just walk into a Bistro’s backdoor in Street of Flavor. Not a member of Zwei, especially.” She chuckled. Her blade slid down from his neck, poked on the Zwei Association's badge nestled on his chest. “So what was it? Infiltration? Patrols? Ah, maybe an escort mission?”

“Just the usual, run-in-the-mill Fixer work, miss. Don’t think a chef like you would be that interested in it.”

“Aw, not even gonna say a tidbit of it? Fiiiine,” Theta stood up and returned to her kitchen counter. Nero could see there’s something over the counter top, yet the chef’s back obscured it. As she hummed, her hand was busy preparing something, “Are you hungry, Nero? Wanna try Theta’s Bistro’s special delicacy?”

The way this woman used his name–moreover with such friendliness–irked him. What the hell did this woman plan on?

A light step, a little dramatic twirl. She faced him with a proud smile and a pie tray in her hands, “Here’s the special dish today~! I’m glad your friend was there to help me!”

Nero stopped breathing. Time slowed down. The pain on his head crushed his skull. He vomited.

She fucked him hard. He was fucked real hard at that point.

With a delicate placement, a black scarf with red lines was laid on the pie tray. Nero knew for sure it had GREEN lines instead of RED. Some vegetable cuts adorned the tray, circling the dish’s main attraction, The Head of K Corp’s W District Branch Office.

“Oh yes, praise me! I know my dish is so amazing it catches you speechless now!”

Well, there goes his paycheck for sure. And maybe his position in Zwei too? His reputation as well? And moreover, there goes his client…

“What? Doesn’t have the appetite for it?”

“Oh I wish I could,” he gritted his teeth, his hand groped on his back for any knives. While forcing a smile over his cute face (or that’s how he claimed it to be), he held back his rising bile, "but nah, I had a breakfast already ma'am. Maybe... Later?"

Good. Nice answer, Nero. Surely it won't lead him to doom, right? Refusing a meal that has been prepared specially for him isn't a bad thing, right? Even that… Disappointed sigh… Of her… Means it’s not that bad… right?

The chef hummed a tune as she put the plate down back to the counter, “That’s too bad. Put ‘em aside for a little while and the taste turns horrid! Do you know how hard it is to process their meat and to keep it fresh?” She leaned on the counter with a frown. In a swift moment, the glint of her kitchen knife has found its way back to her hand.

Her gloved hand meticulously wiped the blood off while she continued her rambles, “ There’s a reason why I always try to not process all the ingredients I collect right away whenever I get a bit too much, y’know?” A click of tongue and a smack of tail adorned her angry wiping, “Too soon, and the meat would taste bad before I could use it. Too late, and the ingredient may run or mentally deteriorate and it affects the quality of their meat. It’s a labor of love, sure, but it’s still a bit hard for a single, frail woman like me!”

‘Frail’, yeah sure, Lady.

Oh, luck on Nero as he couldn’t find any of his hidden knives. Did this woman take all of it? Even the one he purposefully hid on his boxer? Well, shit, let’s dillying a bit.

“Why don’t you hire someone, then? Surely some would kill to work with you,” just a bit more time, Nero, he thought to himself. In the midst of it, he chose the last resort he had by trying to fiddle with the rope on his wrists. At least this woman wasn’t that clever since she only used those cheap ropes to tie him up. He could feel the rope fraying slightly from his nail but… The woman approached him again with… a pack of cigarettes?

As she stride toward him, his nails froze while it still dug onto the rope. Each step she took revealed more contour of her face. He could notice some blood and cuts over her chef outfit too, some frayed and burned ends too. The moment she squatted down to be on the same level, the antsy Fixer held back his breath.

Time went like forever when Theta stared at him in silence, as if trying to gouge up the details of each strand of his locks or every inch of his wrinkles. It was the gaze of someone who enjoyed the sight of an interesting specimen, so to speak. Her left hand which held the pack propped her chin, it seemed slightly bigger and sharper than her right hand too. In such proximity, of course Nero himself couldn’t help but examine the eccentric murderer’s face as his way to avoid her penetrating golden eye. Started from some uneven bumps on her cheek, down to the cuts just right below her chin. Oh, is that some burned white splotches under her deep wine-colored hair? A third degree burn mark? Those were nasty. He couldn’t see her other eye under those bangs either, was it even there? And her-

His attention moved to her right hand that pulled a stick out of the pack. A white, cheap cigarette, something his seniors from Backstreet usually enjoy. Theta slipped those between her chapped, crimson lips, dyeing its tip. Was it painted with lipstick? Or was it blood?

“Say, do you smoke, Nero?” She took out another stick. Nero chirped, “Err, nah, I don’t, ma’am.”

“Oh, nice,” Theta put the second stick on Nero’s pale lips. “You know, I dislike smokers though I’m a smoker myself. Hated over smoked meat, yanno? It tastes bitter and harder to cook. The quality dropped soooo low. I’m the quality-over-quantity type, you see.”

A flick of her finger turned the gas on, lighting up the tail of her cigarette, “So I have the deal, let’s have a smoke together. If you’d like to be my assistant, feel free to join me. But of course, I’d rather you not smoke for the sake of your meat quality. That, if you wished to be a dish–”

CLANK CLANK

Her words cut off by the Theta immediately stood up at the alarm-like loud noise. She groaned and returned the pack back to her pocket, “Ah, cunt, I didn’t prepare for another meal yet! Do ya know how painful it is to put a new trap?! COME ON!”

Her hand swiftly fetched her knife and in a blink of eye she stormed off the kitchen.

…

Guess luck was really with him that day?

Nero quickly freed himself. Without wasting another second, he scanned every corner for any hidden exit. Nil. No damn way but the door she stormed off to.

He picked up the cleaver, the most clever weapon he could hold at the moment. Where the fuck did that woman stashed all his weapon? Oh, well, he needed to survive. He took the first step out of the door–

BAM

Theta’s back slammed on the wall just right beside the door, spat blood out, “Ya wankers go 3-in-1 on me? Fucking cowards!”

She immediately dashed toward one of the gruff men, knife thrusted– only to get a hard kick on her stomach. She did manage to slice her target’s arm yet she’s writhing on the floor. She lifted her head to find one of the men’s sole crushed her face.

Theta grabbed the man’s foot, pushing it away, “This is how ya beat your business rivals?”

CRACK. Hard stomp on her back.

“No personal feeling, miss. It’s just work.”

Her breath heaved. That might’ve cracked a bone or two.

As Nero watched the fight–Or rather, it was just the woman got pummeled–went on. He couldn’t get his attention away from the battered red hair. It wasn’t like he enjoyed this display of violence. No, he wasn’t a sick fuck, mind you. If he could, he would’ve already taken his eye away from her, or from the only visible exit from this godforsaken place that was behind one of the men. If he came out now, he’d definitely get pulled into the fight.

…And did the woman just mention ‘business rival?’

“... Shit,”

Theta tried to stand up again, but now she was pinned to the wall with her own knife pointed at her neck. Blood dripped from her lips, down to her jaw.

“Last word before we take you back as a soup, ‘Chef’?”

She spat blood to the side, “I gotta say if your meat came from me, you’d rather eat dirt. Mine’s too rotten.”

Despite how hopeless the fight was, she still tried to keep up her calm demeanor. However, even Nero could notice how her hand and tail were flinching even when the tallest of those men was standing right on his vision. It’s a hopeless situation. And he couldn’t do anything about it. Even better, he always knew how not to do anything about this. Better be smart. Better be safe. Better be smart. Better be safe–

Yet there he was, in a moment where both doing nothing or running would cut his life short.

A distant memory was scratching his brain.

Nero held his breath, biting down the forgotten cigarette between his gritted teeth. He didn’t even realize his grip on the cleaver’s handle tightened.

He wasn’t trying to hold his fear back—it was an urge. And it’s popping inside him. Raking his head.

He shouldn’t just stand. He couldn’t just stand. He doesn't want to just stand idle. He must help. He must help. He must do something. HE MUST DO SOMETHING–

A knife rose high, a blunt force crashed down.

The heavy blade rammed into fresh flesh followed by the shrill shriek. Before the stunned two men made their move against the ambusher that attacked their own, Nero pushed the butchered man on them. It took Nero a moment to detach the cleaver from him, yet Theta used the surprise attack as her chance to buy time. When the man that pinned her loosened his grip, Theta snatched her knife by its blade. A reckless hasty move, but now the tip of that knife had pointed the other way.

Although beaten, she had enough energy to pierced this fuckface on their mug. Another scream roared. The Zwei Fixer flinched, yet he had the desire he needed to fulfill. The desire to do something. And so, as the cleaver on his hand was lifted, it fell down on the last man.

One last cries, and… the house went silent.

…

The voices of two people breathing heavily in the air filled this moment with tranquility.

Two eyes met, one with subtle excitement and another with weariness. That moment was only broken by the thud of Nero who fell into his knees. The butcher’s knife slipped from his grip, his chest thumped erratically. Eaten up by realization, he gulped his spit.

He is too far to back off now.

“What is it, love? Too excited after butchered a man?” Theta sneered while pushing her body up, these screwed up legs staggered to keep her balanced. She heaved a laugh, “I thought y’all fixer supposed to be used by this.”

Reality screwed him to the T once again, but doubled it down now. He knew the shit he had to deal with when he decided to become a fixer, but he never expected THIS is the real shit that squashed him. On his first mission nonetheless.

Should he even return at this point? Would his leader throw him under the bus if his section got obliterated for this mistake? Would this bitch even let him off the hook– Wait, he could just kill her now, right? But at what cost? Would it change anything, really?

“... Lighter.”

Theta tilted her head toward him, “What was it?”

Nero lifted his dread-sunken head. He took off the stick that was already crushed between his teeth, and offered it toward Theta, “I need a smoke.”

She coughed up her cackle at the sight. She dipped her hand and pulled out the lighter, along with a box of cigarettes. Two sticks were pulled out of the box, she gave one to Nero along with her lighter, “you probably couldn’t smoke that one, that’s too wet to light up after you drools on.”

Her words ticked Nero off, but he still snatched it off her hand. He huffed as he shifted himself onto a more comfortable sitting position. He never do this before but fuck it, he light up the smoke just like how he saw his coworker done it. A woman’s laugh burst uncontrollably when Nero coughed up for being too hasty. What a lame person, but an entertaining one at that.

“Take it easy,” the laugh wind down to a giggle. The chef took the lighter from Nero, and lit her stick as well. A short inhale taken before she blew it toward him, “hope we can work well, dearest Sous-chef Nero Westenfluss.”

Ah, what a way to start her shift today. Guess the best meal is always the partner who comes through the back door, after all.

#Project Moon #/blood #/violence #District 23 shenanigans #/mentions of cannibalism #Library of Ruina #Project Moon OC #Tunas Office

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cchapsticck · 10 months

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20 Questions for fic writers

@dreamwatch tagged me and I actually woke up with enough time to do things before I need to go into work

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

10 - Which is very surprising to me considering my reluctance to release anything beyond my google docs for many years.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

142,085 lord

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Stranger Things (but Eddie Munson in specific honestly) primarily, but I've got some Baldur's Gate and Critical Role in the tubes right now too. The unifying theme here being I Am A Tremendous Nerd Who Likes DnD

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

UNTITLED RECORDING rcd ca. 1987-1988 in the #1 slot by a wide margin, followed by ANACRUSIS ca. 1987, head line, wait, runner, and sunflower broke.

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

I sincerely try to! I am bad at accepting compliments or feedback so I always feel like I'm giving these sort of boilerplate platitudes and thanks and I wish I could accurately capture me reading every comment about 15 times kicking my leg under my desk. I try to be loudly receptive to the feedback I get. People took the time to read and respond! They don't have to do that!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

At first when I was going to respond to this I thought to myself "I'm not sure I really have a lot of fics that end with angst- oh its dog." Its dog. Its dog at the door. Its absolutely dog at the door. I apparently forgot I wrote it, but its dog.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I don't necessarily think of myself who writes things with uncomplicated, expressly happy endings. I think a lot of my work that does end hopefully ends with a kind of watery fragile kind of happy. That probably says something about me but maybe it doesn't. But, to answer the question properly, I think head line is probably the least complicated sense of happy.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I've been made aware of. I'm sure that my writing style and my takes on characters are not everyone's cup of tea, but that's just the mark of a healthy fandom ecosystem. I'm also not a very """""big""""" writer so ain't no one looking at me.

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

I have in the past, but I've never felt very confident in my writing when I do. I don't really feel like I can craft very erotic or romantic scenarios when it comes to physical expressions of sexuality, maybe its my writing style working against me or its just a generalized internal cringe @ me when I do. So these days I tend to skirt around it or speak more evocatively when necessary. I just feel like a total fucking goober when I start getting more direct and descriptive.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Always curious what constitutes as a crossover and what constitutes as an AU to some - ao3 tagging seems to muddy the waters for me. Because if you tag the source material for your AU it looks like a crossover but maybe you're simply using the world's logic but none of its characters? And that feels different to me than a strict crossover where characters from other titles are interacting with each other. Y'know? Instructions unclear wrote a DnD AU, one's mileage may vary if that's a crossover or not.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

That's a thing? I mean. I guess people translating without attribution or reposting fics on other platforms is a thing. I guess that's that. Huh.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

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

Sort of? Not really? I definitely have played in the sandbox with @cwstau and their work, and have my own little toenail clipping a thing based on that work. I've done a little art here and there, and served as a sounding board, to a certain extent, in the formative stages of that fic's life but all of the heavy lifting is exclusively L's work. And while none of it will ever see the light of day I've also definitely theory crafted entire character dynamics and, sort of, speculative futures with friends in DMs. A lot of Yes And-ing each other about the threads we'll pull on.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Man don't ask me that. I'm all over the road, I'm in the wind. I'll be hard in the paint on one thing and then something old will reemerge on the breeze and I just go back to places I one dwelled and be insane there.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

lol any of them. Seriously, the fact that I have finished and published 10 things this year is a testament to. Something. I have no idea what. Something, because I have never been this kind of productive in many many moons and that productivity is a fickle thing that could leave just as soon as its arrived. My google docs is a graveyard of fics I've started and stopped and had grand plans for and mostly finished or entirely finished but never did anything with.

16. What are your writing strengths?

hahah bad at this question but I think I am good at research, when the fic in question demands it. I like to think I can synthesize that research into interesting things when the fic calls for it. I also think I can do cool things with character voice? At least, I always want to try to be interesting with that.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I am very bad at drafting, which is to say I often don't and I get frustrated and discouraged when I can't articulate myself the way I want on the first pass - which is particularly sore spot for me when I always feel like I'm trying to do things very intentionally with character voice and interpretation. I never feel super confident with my dialogue either. I'll write internal monologues for several thousand words but the minute two characters need to have an honest to god conversation I forget how human speech works. I'm also just bad at being concise. I really struggle to just let things stand, it is very hard for me to do those "200 words" writing prompt challenges because I'll start on one concept and my brain branches into a million other places this could go with a lot of detail and intersecting relevance and it can be so so hard for me to kill my darlings.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I think there's a due diligence required when writing for and in languages you, yourself, don't speak. Google translate isn't necessarily a viable solution to your multi-lingual needs, which I think everyone knows so its not like that's a bold stance. Seek out native speakers, ask for feedback, etc. When its my own work I try not to overly complicate the matter, if all parties in the fiction understand the language I'm going to keep writing in the language of the fic itself. There's a fandom I'm a part of that, in canon, uses German as a proxy language for a fantasy language - which is a language I am conversationally fluent in - and even then I find myself hesitant to just indulge in peppering in German words and phrases because that's just, in my experience, not how of multilingual people use language. Authenticity sort of matters in that regard, and there's a weird artificial presentational-ness to just jamming vocabulary words of other languages into dialogue or text that isn't justified by the character or the conversation itself. idk where I'm going with this.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Weeaboo past revealed: I'm pretty sure it was KHR but I cannot be sure anymore.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

This fluctuates based on which one I'm less mad about when I think about it retrospect on any given day, but I think UNTITLED stands as a testament to me writing in long(ish) form, something I've never done before, and was where I really learned a lot about character voice and how to use it. There's plenty I think I'd change or edit now (honestly, was talking to a friend about making a director's cut of some of the chapters of the whole MH series) but it was a big undertaking and I met a lot of really excellent people through the writing and response to that particular fic.

No pressure tags for: @cwstau, @nameslikeguns, @greenlikethesea, @dodger-chan

#tagged in

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imagionationstation · 1 year

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It is time.

WE DOING THE TMNT ASK GAME AGAIN!

I’ve decided I’m going to schedule one for every time I reach a certain number in followers so I can open my options to invite more amazing turtle fans to join in! 💞

We technically reached that number a while ago, but I was busy and I want this to be a fun experience, so I waited. Sue me.

Special thanks to everyone who played last time! I’ll be keeping a wary eye on past winners, but I’m sure ya’ll won’t get so lucky a second time around 😏

And for all the newbies: This is a mainly 2012 site, so I assume most of you are here for that kind of content. And by that same logic, I assume you watch the show/have pics from it.

My challenge to all of you is built off pure, unfiltered arrogance.

You send in photos including at least one turtle to me through asks and I tell you what episode that scene is from! I get all the time in the world to use my memory and turtle knowledge to give an answer.

If you make one difficult in the sense that you zoomed into a turtle hand and everything is blurry and I get no background context to help me piece it together- I get to deny that ask.

Zoom in if you want, just make sure it’s fair, k?

Also, I wanted to try something for this round. A field test, per say.

Whoever stumps me with a picture, gets A) a point to add to the end count which will determine my absolute, undeniable turtle genius/my level of overconfidence that was my undoing and B) an ImagionationStation Drabblish.

This Drabblish is by prompt and character requests in asks after I announce winners at the end. Not that many of you may take me up on it, but for those who are considering…

A Drabble is often something that ranges at around or exactly 100 words, I believe. A Drabblish is just a quick clip I scribble out with 500-1000 or so words that I wouldn’t constitute as a OneShot or chapter. Mainly because of missing pieces to storyline or a simple want to not provide context or maybe I just don’t feel it deserves the title OneShot.

I mainly write for 2012/RISE and everything centers around Donnie in some way. Donnie&Leo hurt/comfort is my strong suit in both universes. (Or so I’ve heard.) Heck, any kind of hurt/comfort is my strong suit. Or just plain injury and horror. Depends, really.

You can request whatever prompt your heart desires- but I do have every right to deny it if I am not comfortable.

Something with Mikey abuse from brothers? Heck, no!

Romance? Uhhhh, depends on the couple, I guess…?

One of my AUs? Give me some context first, but it’s a possibility!

All that to say- TMNT PHOTO ASK BEGINS NOW!

#ImagionationStation’s Ficlets #TMNT photo asks #tmnt donnie 2012 #tmnt leo 2012 #tmnt raph 2012 #tmnt mikey 2012 #donnie 2012 #leo 2012 #raph 2012 #mikey 2012

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fiddlepot · 11 months

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Mmmmmmm I'm in a very venus mood.

Planet of love

She grew up on a mineral rich island at a time where demons had to scatter so as to not go extinct, because hunts at the hands of angels and humans were prominent

Always had and still does have a pessimistic disposition about her. She's observant and aloof.

Okay fuck it, let me write my paragraphs. Bullet points are boring as shit.

I don't want to spoil too much because I like to keep my oc information confidential for writing, so I'll just do the same thing I did with solon—an overview that is in depth but not so much that you know everything about this character.

Venus is honestly one of my favorites for how confused (and confusing) she is. Also, since my lore is flexible, she works for most AUs so long as I find plausible and historically accurate reasons for crossovers etc without changing the content itself. Because to be honest, if you have to change a character in their entirety for another universe, it probably doesn't work out for them in the end at all.

She is a succubus. I really love land of the lustrous, so part of my lore branches off of the idea of pseudohumans as displayed in the manga and anime. Succubi are particularly known for having rarer compositions, and Venus is particularly made of poudretteite. There's no meaning behind it, but I do find it pretty.

The banner above was done by me. But the filters don't align with the coldness of the pink as displayed here—it's intended to be warmer, because I consider her pretty serene in her own right.

Succubi have rarer constitutions to lure in prey—they feed off of the minerals of living things, while normal demons feed off of minerals produced on mineral rich islands, caves, and even crystal forests.

I decided to make her pink because it's often associated with eroticism and femininity, both of which are elements of her character and how she carries herself. Moreover, I think the coldness of her colors when depicted in images play a role in juxtaposing her personality. Sometimes serene and simple at a glance, and other times melancholic and, well. Frigid. Rough around the edges. In this case, I wanted to go for the former because of the piece I was writing. (I since dropped it, but now that I think about it the pairing has enough chemistry to work. If not for the fact I don't have many ideas, I probably would've started working on it.)

The name Venus is also inspired by the Roman god Venus. Or I guess she's better known in Greek as Aphrodite. Pre-amnesia, she was given a human alias because languages spoken by divines are impossible for humans to understand. Too complex and often metaphorical. Not to mention other elements like symbols, and the fact demon dialect particularly can't be traced because they live in secrecy away from humans. There's little evidence to support their existence because they make it that way.

That's not to say there aren't demons that interact with humans though. Venus is one of them—as a prostitute and succubus, she has to in order to maintain her vitality and strength. Although many like her are humanized. Unable to tell anything about their culture, or even the clan they originate from. That's what makes them an easy target for hunters, a large faction of angels (that may as well be a race at this point because there are so many branches—and they've even adapted to optimize success biologically. That's kinda wild.) That use their gem parts for a variety of things. Medicine, personal strength by absorption, potions, among other things.

I intend to write a whole story on my lore—that's why my ao3 exists. In spite of all the crazy things I see in my fandoms, I intend to make a magnum opus on a site that is usually badly regarded outside of platforms like this for its content.

#eev oc posting #oc #venus #artists on tumblr #original world

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laceratedlamiaceae · 2 years

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Dubcon is there for the cases where it's like, the scenario doesn't leave space for 100% explicit consent (like fuck or die but also the kind of fic where all the characters want it but aren't sure of the other's motivations or that they're all on the same page relationship-wise etc etc), it doesn't line up 1-to-1 with real life consent bc it's fiction and you can push it further without making the reader feel they're in noncon territory, since you're in the characters' heads. For some people it should line up or it's fucked up, for others it's more about if it hits the spot kink-wise or falls flat, or they've got different expectations based on story genre or canon context. What constitutes dubcon or noncon or "fully consensual doesn't need a tag" and where the lines are is A Fandom Debate that has been going on for decades and changes with cultural/fandom context and time too. I've heard this is why ao3 doesn't have dubcon as a warning, there was no consensus there, but the rape warning is generally more clear when it applies (bc 99% of the time it's written like that on purpose) and if the author isn't sure they can use the "chose not to use archive warnings" tag.

Im also getting annoyed at the amount of Izzy fic that doesn't tag dubcon or noncon but like. Clearly this is the entire point of the fic once you read it. Like the consent issues and Izzy being deeply uncomfortable or distressed or feeling like he can't say no safely are important factors in here and this is treated as aah but it's fine bc he's Izzy like (????) That's A Kink, author. That's a ducon kink you've got there. Sometimes straight up a rape kink. Please for the love of fuck own it, so I can filter it in or out depending on my mood. It's not even a content warning tag of the "may contain traces of peanuts" variety at that point! It's peanut butter! It's what this fic Is About!

It's also getting increasingly harder for me to trust trans Izzy fic by authors I don't know, bc so many of them feel less like this guy is trans and more like "Nagging ex-wife needs to be Taught a Lesson is my shit, but I can't be like that to a female character, that's illegal. So Im going to use this guy instead and change the pronouns" or like, I also don't want to read about sexual violence against a trans guy! I get that this is a kink trans men may have, just like how women have rape fantasies, but I don't have it and I would like to be able to filter it out. Sometimes it's a matter of writing skill, sometimes it's a matter of this getting mixed in with the general trouble people seem to have giving poor kinky sub Izzy the right to consent to things, like being a sub makes him less a person (which happens in other fandoms but I haven't seen it get this prevalent before)

(in reference to this post)

Thank you! I wasn't aware that this has been the subject of fandom debate, but that makes sense. It would be nice if more people at least just went with "chose not to use archive warnings," but I guess that would require them to think about whether there's consent in their fic to begin with.

And yes, it's baffling to me how people don't get that their works contain rape when that's the entire point of them. There was some art going around recently about an AU where Izzy was a pirate hunter and he was blindfolded, expecting to be having sex with Stede (and IIRC it was implied that that wouldn't have been fully consensual either), but then it was revealed to be Ed who removed the blindfold and used it to gag Izzy. Literally the entire point of it was that Izzy was uncomfortable, and obviously there was no way it could have been consensual, but the artist didn't tag it for rape and neither did anyone I follow who reblogged it; I actually convinced myself that I was being overly sensitive and misinterpreting it but now I'm not so sure.

I've been lucky enough to avoid anything too awful in trans Izzy fics, but I have seen a decent number of posts that seem to be taking the "Izzy is wife-coded/woman-coded" idea (which I don't have anything against, to be clear) and taking it all the way to "Izzy is literally a woman, except I don't want to genderswap him so I'll just make him trans" as if that isn't super transphobic, so I'm not surprised that awful stuff like that ends up in fics.

The stuff with people headcanoning him as a sub (because it is just a headcanon, despite any textual evidence for it) and using that to justify awful things happening to him is so infuriating for me! I've seen a lot of fics tagged for "dom/sub undertones," whatever that means, with no other warnings, and it's just Izzy being raped except it's okay because he's a sub and therefore he must be okay with anything anyone does to him. It reminds me of people using the masochist Izzy headcanon in similar ways (see this post).

#asks #our flag means death #ofmd #izzy hands #tw rape

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querical-equinox · 1 year

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I've had this DCA Magic/Dragon AU in my head for a good minute now. And I don't know that I'll ever get this fully written out in a way that I'm satisfied with, but I've been wanting share the idea so bad!!

So in an act of whimsy and self love imma just jot down my thoughts here and throw em out to the world!

So as things start out, you live in an old barn you'd long since fixed up and turned into a home. It's nestled away in a mountain forest, out of sight of the village that rests in the valley below, but not out of reach.

Magic has a natural flow in this world. Some people or creatures may be more intuned, but anyone can learn and wield it if they try. While some places are gearing towards an academic understanding of it, most people still learn by pure trial and error. All feeling and emotion and ritual.

You do the latter.

You're a Mender, by Trade and Title. Always had an uncanny knack for fixing things up, and as you've fiddled and fumbled your way through figuring out magic all these years, you've only gotten better at it.

Anything you need is either made or grown at home, forged from the wilderness, or received from villagers who make their way out to your little loft. You pay and are payed in trades and favors, and are on good terms with most of the folk who live down below you.

They often come out seeking your help with repairs, most often knick knacks, or important tools. Sometimes treasured and sentimental pieces. And more and more as of late, mending of a medical variety.

This is something you still struggling with, but you're learning.

You also tend to keep close to your home. Mostly because it's where you're the most comfortable, you're really not seeking any grand adventure or fortune. You have most everything you need right here! But it's also in no small part due to your Delicate Constitution.

It's not so bad some days. Buzzing around your home and gardens, steady energy and a bright heart. Taking breaks when you need, but otherwise left unhindered.

Most commonly you get around with the aid of one of your canes or walking sticks (a good few are gifts/trades with folks from the valley.) Sometimes needing to wear compression braces. Definitely resting more in between activities, and usually relying on your magic a lil more than might be healthy.

At your worst though you're lucky to get around your house. Using magic is intensely detrimental in this state, and something you opt only to do under dire circumstances.

You're grateful to the folk who pop in and help when you're like this, even if the embarrassment/shame never fully fades, despite their gentle insistence. Even more grateful still that they'll leave if really ask them to.

On the flip side of things, are Sun and Moon! Living, Dragonoid Marionettes. Though one wouldn't guess them to be puppets at all, as they keep their true forms hidden under physical illusions.

Sun is all glittering gold and scarlet scales. A large, fluffy spiked mane the color of sunlight, and an adornment of flashy red frills around his neck and wrists.

Moon is all midnight hues, with a speckling of shining scales (are they silver or a muted gold, who's to say as they twinkle like stars.) A silvery mane trails more down his back than his counterparts. And he has two long, dark blue whiskers, that wink and glow a soft yellow at the ends.

Both can choose to keep closer to their original size, or take on a much larger form at will. They're wingless dragons, long and serpentine. All muscle with wicked sharp claws at the ends of their hands and feet.

Their true form are more akin to a child's wooden slither snake toy, just done up all fancy. They sill have their marks and fur and frills, but look decidedly more handmade. And those magically inclinde may just be able to spot pale, shimmering strings, fading off into an ethereal distance.

Who made them, and what for, is unclear. IF they were made for a purpose at all of course they were, but it's been so long, do they remember?

Their main concern at the present date however, is helping their dear friend Music Man. Also known as The Music of the Mountain, or on the occasion someone happens to spot him, oh goOD LORD THAT"S A REALLY BIG SPIDER.

He likes Music Man just fine.

He'd been acting strange as of late, and the final straw for them to intervene was one of his darling Minis seeking them for help so far from home.

This ends with them caught in an ambush at the mouth of his cave home (not the fault of the Mini seeking help mind you!) And the two are separated. With Sun flying down the Mountain, struggling to fend off the Minis swarming him as gently as he can. And Moon facing the Music Man himself, getting backed further and further into the cave.

This leads to your first meeting with Sun! He crash lands in a meadow you frequent for herbs and the like. Having shaken all the Minis off along the flight down the Mountain, but left horribly tangled in their incredibly strong spider silk.

It takes a lot of coaxing and gentle words to even get near him. But he seems desperate enough to accept your cautious help.

So you sit and carefully unwind him from this painful mess. You talk to him the whole way through, explaining the work you do (especially when he cant see you), but also just making idle chatter in the interim.

You can feel a powerful magic rolling over and through him, and would nearly be mesmerized by such a beast if it weren't for the serious task at hand.

Despite his rush to get back up and go help Moon, he's incredibly patient with you. Even as you insist on rubbing some ointment on his wounds once you've finished, not knowing the hurry he's in.

When he leaves, it's with a burst of warmth and intense gratitude, as he's seemingly carried off on a breeze.

You head home feeling lighter than you have in years. Cane loose in hand, with coils of spider silk wrapped around it, that you'd keep for a project of some sort.

The field sees a sudden, unexpected bloom over the next week or so after.

You meet Moon a little later after that. Again in the field, though it's raining this time. You were out hunting some storm only blooms for an upcoming potion, things like Gator's Tears, and Froggs Foot.

You catch a glimmer of gold, heart picking up in elation at the return of your sunny dragon friend. Though it quickly drops at your sight clears through the rain.

He's carrying a badly injured Moon. You become acutely aware of the anxious, roiling energy trickling down from them.

He brought Moon to you, entirely uncertain, but desperately hoping you could help. He didn't know quite what else to do.

And so you do what you always do. Help as best you can.

This is leads you to guiding Sun back down to your barn, where you thankfully have enough room to squeeze them both in on the ground floor. You set to work on fixing up a barely conscious lunar dragon, who gets hissy in his brief moments of lucidity.

You don't talk during most of this endeavor. More focused on the task, and channeling your magic as best you can the mend the poor dear. Sun is pure anxious energy coiled protectively nearby.

When you're done and Moon is stable, your watch with a startled awe as he seems to shift and dustily dissolve into his small dragon form. Sun follows suit, in what feels to you as sigh of relief.

Only then do you gently bubble with idle chatter, as you get them blankets and pillows to help them be more comfortable. You tell Sun that Moon will need to rest for a while. And that you'd like them to stay a bit to watch over how he heals.

You've expended entirely too much magic during his care , and end up out of commission for a while after yourself.

As so it goes, you have two Ethereal Dragons as house guest for a short while.

I have more loose thread for things I'd like to see later on. Like them seeking your help with Music Man, and possibly some other fnaf crew.

Funny moments of them being appalled by how you channel your magic. (Some spells and the like have very physical channelings, and you can get the same results from different methods if you're creative enough.) As beings soaked and strung with magic, they take to it a lot more naturally than you, like second nature it seems. They try teaching you easier/safer ways of harnessing it.

As well as some other fun things, soft visits and hijinks, their Marionette reveal to the reader, interacting with some of the villagers, and so on so forth.

This is all I have to share for now though, and if you made it this far thank you for taking the time to read!!!

#querical ramblings #im a lil nervous since i dont share my thoughts/writing a lot #but i've been thinking about this au so much i just needed to put it out somewhere #my working title for it so far is #Mending Marionettes #and so it's tag shall be #also i'd had the inkling of an idea for a bit #but got big time inspired when i saw that post asking for more disabled reader fics #i dont remember who the op was but i hope they see this <3 #also also HOLY SMOKES i just realized how Long this was #a lil over 1500 words #YIPPEE!!!

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babesonly · 3 years

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fic recs 2.0!

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

Canonverse

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

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

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

"Guess not,” he looks at his shoes.

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

on vessels by flightsofangels (1.9k)

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

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

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

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

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

Stay by aeli_kindara (2.5k)

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

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

walking on a string by swordfishtrombones (2.7k)

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

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

the flesh of the mighty by Mudprophet (2.7k)

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

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

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

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

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

JACK VOICE HEY COCKSUCKERS.

hummed low by microcomets (3.3k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some Boys are Sleeping Alone by prosopopeya (4.2k)

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

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

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

ConsumehimNatural (copyright marcusantonius) the Series!

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

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

the reach of human sense by perilously (4.5k)

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

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

And it used to belong to someone else.

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

Down in the River by Ias (4.7k)

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

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

Creature of Habit by trinityofone (5.1k)

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

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

sink by crackers4jenn (5.4k)

"Where to?" A 9.06 coda.

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

Sensational by castiowl (6.1k)

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

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

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

Something to Protect by Sass_Master (6.2k)

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

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

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

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers (7k)

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

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

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

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

The wilderness. by orange_crushed (8k)

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

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

till the juice runs by deathbanjo (8.4k)

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

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

First Date by aeli_kindara (8.9k)

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

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

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

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

Entertaining Strangers by cadignan (9k)

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

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

the shape you take by noviembre (10k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sinnerman by a_good_soldier (10k)

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

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

you’re fooling yourself by cowboydeanwinchester (13k)

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

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

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

The Girlfriend Experience by rageprufrock (15k)

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

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

No Kingdom To Come by domesticadventures (16k)

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

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

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

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

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

Bodies by Speary (18k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you remember, Cas?”

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

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

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

More Than Ever by Sass_Master (20k)

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

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

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

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

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous (20k)

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

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

Dean was done with this shit.

***

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

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

I Shall Not Want by domesticadventures (20k)

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

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

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

To Boldly Go by 8daysuntiltheapocalypseiguess (24k)

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

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

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

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo (30k)

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

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

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord (42k)

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

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

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

Teaching Poetry to Fish by aeli_kindara (52k)

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

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

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

Emergence by ellispark (58k)

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

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

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

a turn of the earth by microcomets (95k)

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

Frigging fantastic.

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

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

Crossing Lines by sometimeswelose (122k)

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

An ethics lesson from Hell

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

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

Plot Holes by saltyfeathers (160k)

Of course it wasn’t over after the apocalypse.

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

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

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

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

Casefic/Roadtrip Fic

Deprived Of Every Planet by KelpietheThundergod (9k)

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

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

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

Castiel stills.

“Dean?”

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

before and after breakfast by spocklee (10k)

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

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

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

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

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

thunder road by dothraki_shieldmaiden (20k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

best friends without benefits by lizbobjones (20k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bumper Cars by mansikka (111k)

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

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

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

Finale Fix-its/Finale Denial

Sorry Jimmy by K_K_TiBal (2.1k)

Based on the tumblr textpost:

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it, Cas?”

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes Dean catches Cas staring at the sky.

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

Eventually Dean starts to recognize the pattern.

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

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

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

Bring Home by cenotaphy (3.8k)

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

Dean will tell him—

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

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

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

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

Truth is nobody knows what to make of Dean.

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

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun (5.8k)

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

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

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

Speak Silence No More by rea_sunshine (8.1k)

When Dean imagined this moment, it went like this:

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

The reality of the moment is this:

It’s fucking cold.

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

my heart is a compass by lagaudiere (10k)

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

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

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

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

killing time by orestespdf (11k)

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

(A character study of Castiel.)

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

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

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

aka, twelve times dean and cas kiss.

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

for which no words exist by MediaWhore (14k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

Command Me To Be Well by prospopeya (28k)

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

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

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

"Hello, Dean."

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

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

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

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

ascend by quiettewandering (53k)

Something in the world is wrong.

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

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

Or can it?

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

"What?" Dean grits out.

"I love you, too."

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

Endverse

final fantasy. by orange_crushed (1.9k)

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

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

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

The Last Song by Moorishflower (3.5k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Non Supernatural AUS

Long-Term Relationship by bendingsignpost (2.7k)

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

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

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

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

One White Lie by komodobits (11k)

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

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

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

separate ways and sleeping dogs by sobsicles (53k)

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

~~~

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

God, he's so fucking stupid.

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

"Three years ago," Cas prompts.

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

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

Everyone’s a Critic by Englandwouldfall (109k)

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

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

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

Non Destiel Centric

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fractured Link by Trell (orphan_account) (5.5k)

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

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

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas #mine

475 notes · View notes

stahlop · 3 years

Text

The Night We Met

Summary:

Ever since Emma and Neal started dating, his roommate, Killian, has always been a jerk. But now that Emma and Neal have broken up, will she see Killian in a different light? Especially when she finds out the truth about why he's always hated her?

Rated M

Also on A03

Happy belated birthday @mariakov81! I have finally finished your birthday fic. I hope you enjoy this college/enemies to lovers/miscommunication au.

Thank you @ultraluckycatnd for being my beta on this one.

-------------

“Ruby, I’m tired, I really don’t want to go to this party,” Emma whined as Ruby walked through her door.

“Too bad,” Ruby trilled at her. “You promised. You’ve been working like a dog. And besides, maybe you’ll get yourself laid tonight.” She smiled her wolfish grin at her.

“Ruby, I don’t need to get laid. I’m perfectly fine!” Emma huffed and settled herself back down into the couch cushions.

“Emma,” Ruby said, sitting next to her on their overly plush couch. She threw back her red tinged, brown locks, and grabbed Emma’s hands from where she’d had her arms crossed over her chest in indignation. “You have not been with anyone since you and Neal broke up. Not even a one-night stand or a rebound to get over him. I know he hurt you..”

“He fucking cheated on me for half of our three year relationship, Ruby!” Emma said, pulling her hands back and willing the tears that pricked her eyes not to fall. She wasn’t going to get upset about fucking Neal again. “Thank goodness I always insisted on condoms even though I was on birth control. Who knows what kinds of diseases he could’ve picked up.” The memory of finding Neal with another woman in their bed was seared into her memory. The fact that he’d apparently been cheating on her with multiple women over the course of their relationship made her feel like the biggest failure on the planet. But Emma always got left, always, so she really shouldn’t have been too surprised.

“I know what you’re thinking, Emma Swan, and it’s not true. You did not deserve this.” Emma raised her eyes to look at her roommate. How the hell could she always read her mind? “I know you,” Ruby said as if she had, in fact, read her mind. “I’ve known you since we were 15 and Granny took you in off the streets, fed you, and never let you leave.” Emma smiled at the memory. As a 15-year-old foster kid runaway, Emma had tried to take some food from Ruby’s grandmother’s diner dumpsters, but had been caught by Granny herself. Emma had thought she would call the cops on her, as had been her experience, but instead, she called 15-year-old Ruby down from the apartment over the diner and together, they had made what Emma had constituted as a feast (really just grilled cheese, steamed broccoli, onion rings, a hot chocolate with whipped cream, and a piece of cherry pie for dessert). Emma had made to leave as they’d done their good deed for the day, but they insisted on Emma staying in their spare room (and with a stern warning from Granny that if anything were missing in the morning, she would hunt her down). And somehow, Emma had fought the urge to run, and eventually, Granny ended up getting permission to foster her, and she had never left. Now she and Ruby were finishing up their senior year of college and Emma did not need her foster sister to try and convince her to go to some end of the year college house party.

“Look, Neal was a raging douche. I’m just sorry he had to break your heart for you to see it. But it’s been six months, Emma. It’s time to end the wallowing and come out!” Ruby gave her a stern look and Emma knew she was done for. She could never say no to that look, and Ruby knew it.

“Fine!” Emma practically bolted off the couch. “But don’t expect me to have any fun,” she warned as she headed off to her bedroom to change.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ruby said, waving her hand behind her as she went through the door of her own room.

-------------

Emma sighed a breath of relief as she sat down in the recently vacated spot on the couch. There was a couple making out on the other end of the couch, but as long as they didn’t invade her space, she wasn’t too worried about them. She’d been making the rounds with Ruby for the past hour and the heels that she’d picked out to wear were not being kind to her feet whatsoever.

She had just grabbed her phone out of her wristlet, flicked her blonde hair back behind her, and was just about to check the time when she heard his voice.

“Fancy seeing you here, Swan.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she knew more would be coming. “This doesn’t really seem like your scene,” the heavily accented, British voice continued on.

“And what exactly is my scene, Jones?” Emma didn’t even look up from her phone, just opened it up and started to scroll through Instagram so that she didn’t have to actually speak to him. She groaned when she felt the couch dip next to her. She glanced past him to where the couple had been making out just seconds ago, but it seemed as if they’d decided to take their activities to someplace more private.

“Aren’t you usually at bars or at Neal’s place?” Emma wasn’t sure if he was asking a genuine question, or if he just didn’t have a good zinger for her (which was pretty much his thing). But it was obvious from his answer that he didn’t know some important information.

“Neal and I broke up,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant and not like her heart was still breaking six months later. It wasn’t even Neal she was upset about, it was the being lied to and cheated on part that still got her upset. That she had put her heart out there and Neal had essentially stomped all over it, making her feel like that lost girl all over again. She looked over at him expecting to see an ‘I told you so’ smirk on his face, but instead, he looked rather upset.

“I’m sorry, Swan,” he said, a solemn expression washing over his face. “I truly am. I know how happy you two were.” Emma almost burst out laughing.

“Are you mocking me, Killian?” She wasn’t angry, just confused. “Because I seem to recall you not liking me at all when Neal and I were dating. Considering you were his roommate for most of the time we were together, I rarely ever saw you. And when I did you showed your disdain toward me pretty flagrantly.” Great. Now she was all riled up again. The last thing she needed tonight was to get into an argument with Killian Jones who had been the bane of her existence when she and Neal were together.

The expression on his face morphed from concern to pure anger after her little outburst. “I don’t even know why I try with you, Swan.” He pushed himself up off the couch and started to walk off before he stopped sharply, turned around, and came back over to her.

“I don’t know what I ever did for you to be so combative towards me, but now that you're not with Neal I don’t have to put up with it anymore. Go screw yourself!” Emma watched in shock as he stalked away from her and started up the stairs. The few people who were in the room with her all had looks of disbelief on their faces at the scene that had just transpired. Emma felt her whole body start to flush in embarrassment before she realized that she hadn’t done anything wrong.

Who the fuck does he think he is? she thought, her embarrassment now turning to anger. She and Killian had always had an antagonistic relationship. They had never gotten along. Well, technically, that wasn’t true. She’d actually met him before Neal as they’d had a class together sophomore year, but they’d only made small talk at that point. They’d flirted a bit and she’d thought he’d been interested, but then Neal had asked her out instead and Killian had made it clear that not only had he not been interested (what with the girlfriend Neal told her he had), but that he really didn’t like her at all. Every time she’d go over to their apartment, no matter what she said, he retorted back with some kind of insult or sarcastic comment. It had almost been a relief when he’d moved out a year and a half into her and Neal’s relationship.

“You try with me?” she asked incredulously, running after him up the stairs and trying not to knock over any of the, most likely, drunk people who were congregating there. Killian turned around toward her, his blue eyes flashing angrily at her. He looked like he was going to say something back to her, but then his whole body deflated with a resigned sigh that said ‘Great, I guess we’re doing this.’ And before Emma could even comprehend what was happening, he’d grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty bedroom right off the stairs, locking the door behind them.

“Did you know?” she asked before he could get a word in.

“Know what, Swan?” Killian asked as if this whole thing was an inconvenience for him, even though he was the one who dragged her into the room.

Emma let out an exasperated sigh. “That Neal was cheating on me?” Killian’s eyes went wide for a split second before he tried to cover it up with a look of disbelief, but that was enough for Emma to see that, yes, he indeed knew that Neal had been cheating on her.

“Wow,” Emma said, trying to blink back the tears that had started pricking her eyes, all the fight leaving her body. “I knew you hated me, but I never expected you to sit idly by while Neal cheated on me.” She sank down on the bed and proceeded to use the heel of her hand to try and stop the tears from actually falling. She glanced a look at Killian, expecting to see him gloating or a mirthful smile gracing his lips, but instead, he looked absolutely crestfallen.

“I had my suspicions,” he began, running his hands through his hair, making it stand straight up and yet still making him look devilishly handsome, not that Emma was noticing. Nope. She was too upset to notice how Killian looked. “I confronted Neal about it and he told me to mind my own business. That’s why I moved out. I may be a bit of a scoundrel, Swan, but it’s bad form to cheat.” He made a move to sit down next to her on the bed, pausing to silently ask permission before she nodded yes and the bed dipped next to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you even suspected?” Emma asked. She was staring at the god awful bedspread they were sitting on. It looked like it was denim with rhinestones all over it. How could that be comfortable to sleep on? She felt the bed shake and saw Killian scratching behind his ear, a nervous tell she’d noticed over the years. She wondered why he was nervous talking to her right now.

“Honestly, Swan, I figured you wouldn’t believe me. I mean,” he paused for a moment as if he were going to reveal some big unspoken truth between them, “you did choose him over me. I didn’t want to come off as jealous and petty.” She nodded as if that made sense, but then realized it made no sense.

Jealous and petty?

Chose Neal over him?

“What the hell are you talking about, Killian?” The sadness that she’d been feeling was replaced by utter confusion.

Killian took a deep breath as if he couldn’t believe they were going to discuss this. “Look, I know you always felt a bit uncomfortable about me being Neal’s roommate, since you rejected me so grandly. I guess that’s why I was always so sarcastic toward you -”

“No, seriously, Killian,” she said, cutting him off, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. When did I reject you?” She’d turned to face him now. She was sure her face had the most puzzled expression on it since this conversation had taken a turn. Killian’s eyes searched hers as if looking for the prank she was playing on him, but when he couldn’t, he continued talking.

“That night in the bar. You rejected me and chose Neal,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I know I keep saying this, Jones, but what the hell are you talking about? I never even spoke to you the night Neal and I got together in the bar. How could I have rejected you?” God, had she drank more than she thought that this whole conversation with Killian made no sense whatsoever? Killian let out a huff of frustration.

“I was perfectly happy never to bring this up, since you never did, but I guess we’re finally going to have this out. That night. At the bar. I thought we were flirting. It seemed like we were flirting.”

They had been flirting. She’d been waiting for her friends at a table by herself when she’d noticed Killian Jones from her biology class sitting with Neal at a table across the room. They’d practically been eye fucking each other from their perspective tables when Neal had walked over to her table and surprised her by asking her out instead.

“You had a girlfriend!” Emma said, accusingly. And now she was back to being angry. She jumped up from the bed, intent on leaving the room. Why the hell did he feel the need to rehash all this from three years ago? She’d felt humiliated when Neal had told her Killian had a girlfriend. She must have completely imagined the flirting that she thought he’d been reciprocating.

“What are you going on about, Swan?” he asked. Apparently it was Killian’s turn to be confused. He was wearing the most perplexed look on his face that Emma had ever seen.

“Your girlfriend, Mia, or Mina, or whatever. You were dating her when Neal and I started seeing each other, so you couldn’t have been flirting with me!” Emma was exhausted from this whole exchange. She knew she shouldn’t have let Ruby convince her to come out tonight. And here she was only, she checked the digital alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, one hour into the party and she was already fighting with Jones. And she wasn’t even sure what they were fighting about this time. Just that she felt like she was reliving one of the more embarrassing interactions she’d had with him.

Killian sat there looking shell shocked. “Milah?” he asked incredulously. Emma shrugged. “Neal’s cousin? I never dated her. I met her at a party, once. The party you came to as Neal’s girlfriend for the first time. Whatever gave you the idea I was dating her?”

Emma furrowed her brow, trying to recall that night three years ago. “Neal told me you were,” she said slowly. Killian scrunched his face in a look of confusion. He headed back over to the bed and sat down. He looked like he was thinking about something and Emma started to feel like an intruder in the room. She was about to suggest she head back to the party when he patted the spot next to him.

“Come sit, Swan. I feel like we need to clear the air about a few things.” The solemn look on his face was enough for Emma to follow his instructions. After she’d settled herself on a patch of the bedspread that did not contain rhinestones trying to puncture her through her jeans, Killian began to speak. “Let me see if I have the order of events correct from that night in the bar. You and I were flirting.” Emma attempted to interrupt him by reminding him that she was flirting, but she’d obviously misinterpreted his intentions, but he put his pointer finger to her lips to stop her. “Sh Sh Shush. It’s storytime,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“So, you and I were flirting, or, at least, I was flirting. I was flirting with you in our bio class at school and I couldn’t believe my luck that you were sitting there at that all ages college bar flirting with me. But, I wasn’t as confident back then, so when Neal offered to be my wingman and kind of feel you out about your feelings for me, I jumped on the opportunity. I sat there watching the conversation from my table. I watched you smile at him and then look over at me and my heart practically soared out of my chest that you might be agreeing to pursue something with me. And then your face fell and you looked over at me again, but this time with a little more scorn in it, and then you and Neal just kept talking and talking, and the longer I sat there the more I felt like the biggest fool just sitting there. I could tell your affections had shifted. And then Neal came back over to me after you’d finished talking and told me how you’d really been flirting with him and that you’d agreed to go on a date with him, and better luck next time.” Killian hadn’t looked at her throughout the entire part of his story, probably afraid to see her reaction to it. Probably afraid that she would be mocking him in some way since that’s what their relationship had been since she’d been with Neal, and now she understood why.

“But, that’s not what happened,” Emma said with an anguished cry. Killian’s face snapped up toward hers so fast she thought he might have hurt something. “I was flirting with you. I’d been crushing on you so hard. And then you were in the bar. I wanted to come over and talk with you, but I didn’t want to lose the table I was saving for my friends. When Neal came over, I thought maybe you’d sent him instead. But then he told me that you hadn’t been flirting, that I must have misinterpreted. That you had been with your girlfriend, Milah, for a while now, and could I possibly consider getting to know him and go out on a date with him instead. And I felt like the biggest fool,” she said repeating his words back to him, “but Neal was cute and nice and I thought, why not. And then he brought me to that party and Milah was all over you and that just confirmed to me that everything I thought had been happening between us was just in my head, so I agreed to be Neal’s girlfriend that night.” A thought struck her and she gasped.

“That’s why you’ve been so mean to me? You thought I rejected you for Neal?” She felt horrible now, knowing the truth.

“Aye,” he said, scratching that area behind his ear again. “I admit, I didn’t deal with my feelings about being rejected that well. And the fact that you never said anything about it perturbed me too.”

“He played us both. He was supposed to be your friend and instead he screwed you for a girl.” Emma had thought she’d been pissed at Neal when she’d discovered he’d been cheating, but now she was angrier than she’d ever thought she could be. Neal was the worst of the worst. And to top it all off, he had stopped whatever could have potentially happened between her and Killian from happening.

“It was part of why I moved out. Besides suspecting him of cheating on the most glorious woman I’d ever laid eyes on, I just couldn’t see you two together anymore. It hurt too much.” He gave a shy smile which looked odd on his ruggish face.

“Ugh! Neal is the biggest asshole ever. What the hell did I ever see in him?” Emma asked.

“You see what you want to see when you’re in love,” Killian answered. Emma bit her lip, replaying everything she’d just learned. The last three years had been built on a lie. Neal was the biggest asshole to the tenth degree and Killian was sitting here looking at her as if she hung the moon.

Killian was looking like a man in love.

Emma had thought he was cute back in their freshman year when he’d still had lanky limbs that didn’t seem to fit his body and could barely grow facial hair. And now here he was sitting in front her, his body lean and muscular, beautiful scruff covering the lower half of his face, and a thatch of chest hair sitting exposed from where he’d unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt (something she always had complained to Neal about when she thought she hated him, but she’d really always wanted to run her fingers through it). She looked up into his eyes and noticed that they were practically black. Only a sliver of blue iris ringed the outside of the pupil. Emma could feel her heart starting to pound in her chest. She’d hated him until only mere minutes ago, hadn’t she? Until the revelation of Neal’s manipulation had come to light. Or had she simply been masking her feelings by engaging in his hateful banter? It only took a split second for her to decide what to do.

She grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt and hauled his lips to hers. If Killian seemed surprised by this turn of events, he didn’t show it all, as he immediately started kissing her back. His scruff on her chin felt delightful, his lips were soft on hers, and his hand had threaded its way into her hair and the slight pull felt amazing. She ran her hands through his hair and reveled at how soft it felt. She broke the kiss for a moment to get some air, their foreheads resting against each other, both of them panting.

“That was…” he began.

“Long overdue,” Emma finished before she went in for another kiss. But Killian stopped her before her lips could reach his. Her heart was pounding in her ears, but for a totally different reason than it was before. She couldn’t have possibly misread the situation again.

“You don’t want me anymore,” she stated softly, pulling away from him before she could embarrass herself any further. But he wouldn’t let her out of his grip.

“On the contrary, I want you very much.” Emma bit her lip and couldn’t stop the smile that overcame her lips. “I just…” he huffed, most likely trying to find the right words to say what he wanted without offending her. “We’ve spent the last three years believing we hated each other, and I just want to make sure this isn’t a one time thing, because I never hated you, Emma.” The sound of her name, and not Swan, did things to her that she never knew just a voice could do. She gently cupped his face in her hand and gave a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Killian, I fully intend for this to be more than a one time thing. So please, just kiss me again?” And with that, he surged forward and gave in to her request.

This kiss was nothing like the last one. This one was full of want, passion, and love (yes, love; Emma may have still loathed him earlier tonight, but she would be the first to admit that there was a thin line between love and hate, and it had now been crossed).

Killian started peppering her jaw with kisses, finding a particular spot right before her ear which made her moan with pure lust. “Swan,” he growled into her ear, his breath making her whole body shiver, “you can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted to hear you make those noises because of me.” He bit down on her ear lobe, soothing it with his tongue as she made another obscene noise that in all her time with Neal she’d never heard herself make. “Do you know what it does to a man when the object of his desire is getting off by someone else in the next room with thin walls? It was absolute torture.” He moved back down her jaw, kissing her lips again before moving to the other side.

“In all honesty, you mostly heard me faking it,” Emma laughed. She honestly never knew it could feel this good and they were only kissing.

Killian pulled away from the ear he’d been sucking on and faced her with a troubled look. “Please tell me my former prick of a roommate gave you some orgasms during your tenure together?” Emma almost laughed at the level of concern on his face, but she knew he was being serious so she held it in.

“I mean, he gave me some,” she shrugged. “But he was the only guy I’d ever been with, so I don’t really have a lot to compare him to.” Killian looked even more insulted at that statement.

“Swan,” Killian said, grabbing her hands. “You are a goddess and I’ll show you how you should be worshipped properly.” He punctuated this statement with another bruising kiss.

Emma sat slack jawed at his words. Never had anyone spoken to her like Killian did. Like she was worthy of being ‘worshipped’ as he’d put it. So she just nodded in agreement.

“Emma --”

“Killian --”

They both gave a small laugh having spoken at the same time.

“Emma, I just want you to know that no matter what happens tonight, I want to be whatever you want us to be. Whatever we become is as much up to you as it is to me.” So much more romantic than Neal’s ‘So I wanna if you wanna,’ Emma thought.

“Are you trying to make sure I’m okay with this, Killian? Because I am. I liked you back before Neal, and I thought I’d been wrong about you being this nice guy, but I still always had a thing for you, even when we were... mortal enemies.” More laughter emanated from them. “But I want this. I really want this.” She took her free hand and moved a piece of hair that was dangling over his eye away. “And I want to explore what could’ve been if He Who Shall Not Be Named hadn’t interfered for his own selfish reasons.” They both smiled at that. Emma could see his blue eyes twinkling. She thought he was going to kiss her again, but he let go of her hand and got up off the bed and motioned for her to do the same. Emma was confused until he began turning the bed down for them to get more comfortable.

“Oh, so now you’re a gentleman?” she asked jokingly.

“I’m always a gentleman,” he replied back. And then he grabbed her hand and pulled her in for a kiss. “But right now, I want to tear off this ridiculous comforter,” Killian ripped it off the bed revealing the normal looking sheets underneath, “so I can get you into that bed, tear off all your clothes, and hear you scream my name.” He growled into her ear as he tongued it. His voice went straight to her clit and she swore she might come from his voice alone.

Killian moved her hair off her shoulder as his lips began their assault on it. Emma had never been so glad she’d chosen the off-the-shoulder top she was wearing for the party that night. She started to unbutton her blouse to move things along, but Killian swatted her hands away.

“No, Swan. I will not have you ruining my fun by having you undress yourself. I intend to unwrap you myself. I’ve waited too long for this to be a quick fuck.” Emma shivered at his words. Never in a million years would she have thought Killian would have been a dirty talker. And she never realized that it would turn her on so much.

His scruff was scratching her neck in the best way as his lips went back to her neck. Her hands went to the thatch of hair peeking out from the top of his shirt and Emma decided that if she wasn’t allowed to unbutton her top, she could certainly start unbuttoning his. The chest hair was something she’d always wanted to run her fingers through. With every button she opened, more and more hair was revealed. She ran her fingers through it as Killian moved back to her mouth.

“Please, Killian,” she begged as she got to the last button on his shirt. He removed his arms from the sleeves while still keeping his lips on hers, although she could feel him smile as she begged. He continued to unbutton her blouse with his deft fingers and discarded her shirt onto the floor.

“Better?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow in the sexiest way she’d ever seen.

“Not even close,” she panted. The black, strapless lace bra she was wearing felt too constricting, and as much as Killian had wanted to ‘unwrap’ her himself, she reached behind her back to unhook the offending material. The eyebrow raised again as he stepped back to see what she had done, but then his eyes widened when he saw what was underneath her bra.

“You’re absolutely stunning, Emma,” Killian whispered in awe and before she could say anything back, he started kissing her again. This time, Emma pulled him down onto the bed with her. They found a comfortable position with her on her back and him between her thighs. His lips seemed to be everywhere: lips, jaw, neck, collarbone. He was kissing a path down to her breasts and she was rubbing her jeans against the large bulge she could feel through his.

“Someone is impatient,” he smirked into the top of her breast before his teeth clamped down over her nipple.

“Fuck, Killian!” she said as he immediately laved his tongue over the now peaked nipple. The smirk returned.

“All in good time.” He moved over to the other nipple and repeated the same movements with his teeth and tongue. Emma had never felt these feelings before. Neal had barely done any foreplay, and Emma, having not been that experienced, just figured that was normal. Now she was mentally berating herself for missing out on this the past few years. But she needed to stop thinking about Neal when she had Killian’s mouth heading south. His tongue dipped into her navel and Emma swore she was going to come before he even got her jeans off. She never knew someone’s tongue could feel that erotic on her skin.

“Is this okay?” Killian asked as his fingers came up to the button on her jeans. Emma could only nod, her mouth not seeming to work. He popped the button and Emma lifted up her ass so Killian could slide her jeans and underwear down (just plain cotton which she was highly regretting right now; at least she’d had the forethought to shave before the party). He continued to kiss down her body as her jeans slid off, leaving her completely nude. For the first time that night, Emma began to feel self conscious about the position she was in. She and Killian had hated each other up until an hour ago, was it really prudent of her to sleep with him already? Maybe they should slow things down. She was just about to voice this when his tongue made contact with her clit and all rational thought went out the window.

“Oh, God!” she screamed and her hands involuntarily went to his lucious, brown locks and pulled him even closer.

“Killian will do,” he said, smiling into her. “So wet for me, Swan.” He began licking her like a man possessed and Emma had never been this crazed from oral sex in her life. She was pretty much fucking his face and Killian seemed to be enjoying it. He sucked her clit between his lips and Emma knew she was so close. Killian took his pointer and middle fingers and slipped them into her wet heat, thrusting them back and forth until he finally found the spot that would make her come undone. “Come for me, Swan,” he growled in a commanding tone. He gave one final suck and her body exploded.

Emma knew she was mumbling nonsensical words as Killian continued to lick and pump his fingers more slowly now, bringing her down from her high. Never in all her life, not by her own hand or any other boy’s (because that’s what they all were, boys) had she ever had an orgasm so strong. Emma was vaguely aware that Killian was now kissing back up her body: a small nip to her hip, his tongue licking a stripe up the side of her stomach, his teeth grazing the side of her breast. His hand was still in between her legs easing her down from her intense orgasm.

“Oh my fucking God, Killian!” she panted out, her heart still beating frantically in her chest.

“Sounds like you enjoyed that.” He smirked. That smirk always used to annoy her, but now it was the sexiest thing Emma had ever seen. She grabbed Killian by the hair and crashed her lips onto his. She could taste her essence on his lips and it was intoxicating. Emma never thought she would be turned on by that. She was learning a lot about herself tonight. Like the fact that she was completely nude and Killian was still half dressed.

“Lose the pants, Killian.” She’d found her way to the tip of his pointed ear. Another thing she’d always found annoying about him and now she found hot as fuck.

“As the lady wishes.” He stood up and began to unbutton his pants as Emma started stroking his chest hair. He was wearing a pair of black boxer briefs underneath that did nothing to hide his erection and for the first time, Emma realized that all the sexual innuendos he’d dropped over the years were not because he was compensating for something. He could really back up everything.

“Fuck, Killian!” Emma breathed out as he pulled his boxer briefs down to meet his pants that were at his knees. Emma knelt down to pull them off the rest of the way, Killian watching her intensely, and found herself eye to ….cock. He was so much bigger than Neal, and it was nicer looking, what with the manscaping he’d obviously done. Neal had just been a hairy mess. But Killian, well, Emma never thought she’d describe a man’s penis as beautiful, but that’s what this was. She gently brushed her thumb over the tip, a hiss emanating from Killian’s lips as he sat back on the bed. She wrapped her small hand around it and looked up at him. “Is this okay?” She echoed back his words from before, and just as she had, he nodded, too much in awe that this was actually happening.

Emma pumped him up and down slowly, her thumb grazing the tip each time. His shaft was velvety smooth under her touch. She was gearing herself up to lick him; it was not something she had particularly enjoyed doing for Neal. Killian must have sensed her hesitation because the next thing she knew, he was hauling her up into his lap. She immediately became wetter the moment his cock rubbed against her already damp folds.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, love.” He brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear before kissing her again. “Besides, if you put your mouth on me, I’d probably finish there and I want to feel you around me.” Emma could feel her cheeks redden, but then started rubbing herself against him. The noise Killian made was probably the most amazing noise she’d ever heard and she doubled her efforts rubbing against him just to hear him make it again.

“One moment,” he said, maneuvering himself to grab his pants. He quickly pulled out his wallet and grabbed the foil-wrapped condom from inside, then deposited his wallet back in his pants before dropping them back on the floor. Emma was busy giving sloppy kisses along the column of his neck when she heard the foil rip, and she lifted up slightly so his cock stood in between them looking red and angry. Emma had never seen an erection look so hard. She plucked the condom from his hand and pulled it down herself (and honestly, she never thought putting a condom on could be so damn sexy).

“Ready, Swan?” he asked. Emma didn’t even give a verbal answer. She grabbed his cock, lifted herself over it, and slowly sank down on him, adjusting to his length and girth.

“Fuck!” she moaned when he was finally seated completely within her. Killian kissed her passionately, his tongue plunging into the depth of her mouth and tangling with hers. She tugged on his lower lip with her teeth, and she could swear she felt him get even harder inside her.

“You need to move, Swan,” he bit out. Emma lifted herself up, and slammed back down on him. God, she’d never felt so full in her life. She never wanted this feeling to end. She continued to fuck herself on him, her hands on his shoulders to lift herself up higher, his hands under her ass to do the same. She’d never fucked anyone like this before. Neal had always insisted on missionary style, which Emma was now realizing was probably the only way he could get off. This position felt fucking amazing and she was pissed at herself for never trying it before. But she needed something more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she screamed as his hand moved from her ass to in between them and made contact with her clit. That was exactly what she needed. He continued to rub it as hard as he could. It was too much, yet not enough. She was almost there.

“Let go, Emma. I promise I’ll catch you.” And that was all it took. Emma lifted up off him completely and had the most fucking intense orgasm she’d ever had in her life. Even more powerful than the one he’d brought her to before. Everything seemed to go black and then next thing she knew, Killian had turned them over so she was on her back and he thrust himself back inside her.

Emma didn’t even get to contemplate how fast he’d changed their position when another orgasm rocked her due to the angle of his cock inside her and a well placed thumb on her already swollen clit. “Killian!” she screamed, her voice starting to feel hoarse from all the screaming she’d been doing. He rode her out until she finally felt him still and he grunted, emptying himself into the condom.

Killian collapsed on top of her. He was heavy, but Emma decided she didn’t really mind. She liked the way he felt. With Neal, she’d just wanted him off of her right away, mainly because he’d fall asleep almost instantaneously and then she’d be trapped beneath him. Almost as if he was reading her mind, Killian rolled off of her. Emma immediately missed the warmth of him, but he quickly took off the condom, wrapped it in some tissues from the box on the nightstand, and threw it away in the garbage can. Then he pulled her into him so their foreheads were touching, and Emma thought it was the sweetest thing anyone had done for her after sex. She kissed him, a short and sweet kiss, just to let him know that this wasn’t just sex. She hoped that it conveyed what she was too afraid to say. But then, she decided to say it anyway.

“Killian,” she began, “would you like to go out on a date...or something?” she mumbled, her confidence waning after she mentioned the word date.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you out?” Killian teased as a wide smile graced his handsome face. She blushed. After everything they’d just done and she blushed when he teased her. She had it bad. “Yes, Emma, I would be honored to go out with you. But please let me plan the date,” he said earnestly. How could she resist when he had the puppy dog face going. She kissed him in agreement.

“And now, love,” he said hesitantly, “I think you and I should get out of this bed, considering it doesn’t belong to either of us. And who knows how many other people have used this bed for this exact same purpose.” That made Emma jump up almost immediately. God, she hoped whoever's house this was they washed the sheets before they’d made the bed.

They quickly got their clothes back on (and Emma didn’t even want to think about the mess her hair probably was), and Emma pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans that had been discarded, noticing there were a few text messages from Ruby.

“Shit! Ruby’s been trying to get a hold of me. She wanted to leave half an hour ago.” She frantically started texting Ruby to tell her where she was, but Killian took the phone from her hand and deleted the text.

“Tell her you’ve gone home with someone and you’ll see her in the morning.” Emma looked at him quizzically.

“Am I going home with someone?” Killian’s cheeks went red all the way to the tips of his elfin ears and his hand went to the back of his neck.

“Only if the lady would like to.”

Emma debated making him even more nervous, but couldn’t contain herself. “The lady would like to, Killian,” she said, giving a small smile. He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the knuckles and Emma thought she might melt on the spot. How could she have ever hated him? Oh right, her jerk ex. She quickly sent a text off to Ruby.

He unlocked the door and they stepped out into the, thankfully, empty hallway. They could still hear the party going on downstairs, and lots of moaning coming from the other rooms in the hall. They both gave each other slightly embarrassed grins.

“Come, love, let’s take this somewhere more private,” Killian said smugly; Emma nodded in agreement and they headed down the stairs… and ran smack into Neal.

He looked, if Emma was being honest, like crap. His hair was disheveled, and not in the way Killian’s was looking because of her pulling on it during sex, and there were bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping.

“Emma!” Neal said, his face lighting up. “Boy, am I ever glad to see you.”

“Can’t say the feeling’s mutual,” Emma snapped. The euphoria she had just experienced with Killian was quickly fading into revulsion. She gave Killian’s fingers a quick squeeze so he knew she was not going to let Neal ruin their night. He gave her a squeeze back in understanding.

“Oh, come on Ems, don’t be like that,” he said, flashing that grin that always used to make her weak in the knees. Now it just made her want to vomit. What the hell did she ever see in him? Had she really been that desperate to be loved? Neal reached out to grab her hand and Emma could see the confusion when he realized one hand was occupied, and then the look of realization when he finally noticed Killian standing beside her.

“What the hell is this?” Neal asked angrily, like he had any reason to be angry. “You making a move on my girl, man? I thought we were friends!” Emma actually burst out laughing at that remark. Both Neal and Killian looked at her bewildered.

“First off, Neal,” she said, giving him a fierce push against his chest, her laughter giving way to irritation, “I’m no longer your girl. I haven’t been your girl in six months. And,” she gave him another push, “you were cheating on me for half of our relationship, so I really haven’t been your girl in a long time.”

“Ems, I can explain…”

“No, you can’t explain, Neal. And even if you could, I don’t want to hear it. And as for Killian being your friend,” she gave a glance to Killian and gave him a huge smile before returning her look toward Neal, “friends don’t steal the girl their other friend is interested in and then lie to both of them about it for years.” Another push. Neal’s face went practically white. “Yeah, we figured some things out tonight about the night we met.” She scowled at him to let him know that she meant business.

“I..” But Emma was done with this.

“I don’t want to hear it, Neal.” And with that, she walked past Neal, her hand in Killian’s to really make her point that she was no longer his.

“Your loss, mate,” Killian said with a smirk and gave a salute as Emma pulled him along. They ran out the front door into the cool spring air. When they made it to Killian’s car (a Chevelle that Emma remembered he rebuilt himself) they stopped to catch their breath. Emma could feel Killian’s eyes on her, silently watching her to see her reaction.

“Emma, I’d understand if we’ve moved too fast and you want to slow things down,” Killian said quickly. It’s as if he’s afraid that if he doesn’t say it fast enough, she’ll say something to end what has barely begun between them. Emma gets it. She walked over to him. He’s busily looking anywhere but at her, while scratching that spot behind his ear. It’s utterly adorable.

“Killian?” She’s standing directly in front of him and the surprise look on his face when he finally does look at her is priceless. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing. And I definitely don’t want to slow things down.” And with that declaration, she grabbed his face, pulled his lips to hers, and kissed him with everything she had in her. It took Killian a moment to catch up with her, his lips finally kissing hers back after a slight gasp of surprise into her mouth that made her smile, almost giggle even.

They finally separated and got into Killian’s car, both of them quietly contemplating, with anticipation, what the future held for them as they drove silently back to his apartment.

In the morning, Emma expected to feel the urge to run, to feel they moved too fast. But she doesn’t feel any of that. He pulled her in tight in his half asleep state, making her feel safe as she cuddled into his chest, and Emma wondered how she ever could have hated him the way she thought she did.

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @qualitycoffeethings @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @klynn-stormz @tiganasummertree @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @deckerstarblanche @onceratheart18 @the-darkdragonfly @wefoundloveunderthelight @earanemith

#happy birthday mariakov81 #csau #cs college au #cs au #past swanfire #enemies to lovers

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hange-zone · 3 years

Note

May I please have some Eremin Hades/Persephone au? With Eren as dread Persephone and Armin as the overworked king of the underworld?

SIX MONTHS IN THE GARDEN OF HADES

In a strange twist of fate, the lord of the underworld was five foot five and had a shock of blond hair.

“You kidnapped me!” Eren sounded incredulous. He scowled at the person - barely older than a boy - whose office (realm?) he had just been thrown into. The blond boy, seated at the ornate desk, looked up from his paperwork with a bored expression on his face. Eren stood up, brushing the dirt off his clothes and collected himself, managing to sound incredibly composed despite having just fallen through a crack in the earth and tumbled right down to hades. “That’s so wrong. Wait till my sister finds out - you’ll be dead.”

That sounded like a threat, but it struck Armin as terribly ironic. He laughed. “I’ll look forward to it.”

If looks could kill he guessed that the glare that the other boy had shot him might have actually struck him dead, but he was the god of the underworld and of the dead and honestly? Trifle things like that didn’t matter.

So he dismissed the glowering boy with a flick of his wrist and went back to poring over his spreadsheets.

ii.

When they next meet Eren’s hands were sticky and he wished very hard that he could cough out his last meal.

Armin glanced up at him, then back to his work. “I’m guessing you had some of the fruits from my garden?”

“I was hungry,” Eren protested. “You don’t even have -”

“Six months.” Armin interrupted. He didn’t look up, still scribbling as his eyes scanned over the reports and administrative data. Why do people keep dying? he wondered, briefly, before turning his attention back to the boy before him. “You don’t even need food. But you’ve eaten them, you do the time, that’s just how it works, et cetera. Besides, didn’t anyone ever warn you?”

“Fuck you,” Eren replied.

iii.

Wandering around the palace grounds, which were not entirely to his liking, being all dark marble and jagged rock - as well as gaudy displays of gemstones and glittering metal that made his eyes hurt - Eren found himself settling by the shallow pool and watching his reflection in the black water.

It seems like a cruel trick, to make the earth open up and take him here and then just...leave him alone? What was Hades even thinking? And why was he a lanky teenage boy? That was possibly more confusing.

Suddenly, a mop of blond hair appeared behind him. He jumped. “You scared the shit out of me,” he said accusatorially to the figure, frowning.

“Sorry,” Armin offered. Up close he looked far less intimidating - beneath the grand robes his shoulders were rounded and he was skinny and rather small. His clothes seemed to overwhelm him. His wide blue eyes were deep-set and there were tired, dark circles against the pale flesh of his face. He drew in a long breath and sighed. Eren noticed that he was biting his dry lips nervously.

“Walk with me?” the lord of the underworld asked. Despite himself, Eren obliged, nodding slowly and letting the boy help him to his feet.

They made their way through the sprawling grounds in silence, trodding through the soft earth. They walked past abandoned gazebos with doric columns, round a winding path with dead and rotting trees and grey leaves which crunched underfoot, away from the black obsidian building which loomed across everything in the landscape. The dead fluttered around them.

Eventually they came to a pier. Armin leant against the railings, gaze fixed on the river. The water was dark as it rushed and churned underneath them. Eren watched him for a second then looked away. Off in the distance he could see the glowing lights of Elysium.

Slowly, haltingly, the other boy began to speak.

“Sorry about…” Armin trailed off. “It was stupid. I should have just asked - we could be friends properly. But now - it’s the seeds, you see. Six of them, six months. We're bound by precedent, unfortunately.”

Ah, there it was again. Who knew the god of the dead was such a stickler for rules?

And then he was off again, turning away and moving through his realm. Eren followed, and they walked on in silence. Eren looked upon the craggy rock and trampled flowerbeds and the overgrown hedges on the edges of the estate, and frowned.

“Your palace sucks,” he blurted out, characteristically blunt.

It was Armin’s turn to be startled. In fact, he looked positively scandalised. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve got like, all the gold and precious metals and stuff but it’s just too much,” Eren supplied.

A pause.

“Also the palace looks evil and the gardens are dead,” he added.

Armin opened his mouth to object but closed it again.

Eren, ever the opportunist, quickly followed up: “I’ll forgive you - and your terrible taste - if you let me just have the garden,” he said, gesturing around meaningfully. “By the time summer comes I’ll have it all fixed up.”

Armin dithered, but picked up the pace, widening his strides.

“You owe me,” Eren pressed breathlessly, running to catch up. “You were the one who started it.”

Armin seemed suitably chastened. “Fine,” he huffed out.

Eren couldn’t help but smile to himself, even as he was careful not to let the boy see.

It was getting late - a mist had descended upon the land and it was beginning to get cold. Eren found himself shivering in his thin clothes, goosebumps creeping across the length of his arms. Armin must have noticed, because he pretended to stifle a yawn and said, “We should get back.”

And then, before he could protest, the lord of the underworld - Hades himself - draped his thick coat across his shoulders, and was already ahead of him, bare shoulders stark against the night as he turned on his heel and moved briskly in the direction of the ugly, evil palace. Eren clutched at the velvet that clung to him. It was surprisingly warm against his skin.

It became a routine of sorts, walks in the morning and at night, bookending their days. On one nighttime walk, when the precious stones embedded in the cave’s ceiling had glinted like stars, he’d strayed too close to the blond boy and the backs of their hands had brushed. His heart had skipped a beat, but the other boy didn’t seem to notice, or even if he did, he didn’t say anything. And anyway, they’d gone back to their separate chambers as usual - Eren right to bed and Armin back to his office.

iv.

They’d just finished their morning walk, which had led back to the mess of the office, when another one of the servants had unceremoniously dumped yet another pile of papers on Armin’s desk. Eren could see the veins starting to stand out on his forehead, the thick pulsing blue under his pale, luminous skin, before he buried his face in his hands and sighed loudly.

“It’s clearly stressing you out,” Eren said, perched on the corner of the desk. “Here, let me,” he reached for the sheet right on top, marked ‘URGENT’, and for once Armin didn’t try to stop him.

“It’s the review cases,” Armin groaned into his palms. His voice was muffled but indignant. “I’m really not convinced we should change their sentences every thousand years, but since they’ve developed the constitution and instituted rights there’s apparently no such thing as eternal fate anymore.”

“This one?” Eren pulled open a scroll, scanning it. “Another king. Oh - this guy’s seriously fucked up. Cooking his kids?”

“Yeah - which is why I thought it’d be poetic justice to have the whole ‘water he cannot drink’, ‘food he cannot touch’ schtick. But apparently he’s shown some potential for reformation so that’s now out of the window. As are cruel and unusual punishments.” Armin groaned again and let his head flop to the side, blond strands shifting about the jet black table. His cheeks were pressed onto the countertop and it was almost comical, Eren thought - and in fact, deeply humanising, watching Hades moan about his job and suffer from overwork. He felt a pang of feeling - something - for the small blond boy, caught up with the entire mess of processing souls in the afterlife.

And so it might have out of a fit of compassion that he dropped Tantalus’ file, letting it flutter to the floor, and came up behind Armin to rest his hands on his tense shoulders. And it was probably out of a swell of sympathy then that he let himself press his thumbs firmly right into the space between Armin’s shoulder blades, fingers splayed out across his narrow back and warm neck. Working at the tense knots, until he felt the other boy relax into him.

It was the tail end of winter, while a blizzard tore across the surface of the earth and frost marked the ground, when Armin had summoned him for dinner. This was something new; he had made no mention of food - much less a meal - before, except for the second encounter where he’d pronounced Eren’s fate. Besides, he was right: they didn’t exactly need to eat, though Eren supposed he’d appreciate a good dinner if it were offered to him. And Armin had explained that the rest of the food wasn’t binding, so he also supposed it wouldn’t hurt to see what fruits of the earth the underworld could offer.

As the door to the dining hall swung open he was greeted with an opulent sight. His let his eyes scan over the candlelit room with its long table piled high with more food than he’d seen in his life. There was a literal cornucopia as the centrepiece. Armin was at one end, waiting expectantly. His head was resting casually against his fist, blond locks soft against his features. For once he was without paperwork, the entirety of his attention focused on the boy who had entered the room.

“Is this a date,” Eren said, voice rising, but not quite a question.

Armin shrugged noncommittally. “Your time here’s nearly done. It’s been five months - I thought we should commemorate it.” His voice was even, but in the dimly-lit room it would have been impossible to tell if he were blushing anyway.

“Soppy,” Eren said, under his breath, but he let the servants offer him a chair and settled into it, hands already curling around the outermost set of cutlery before him.

After a full dinner of winter vegetables and hearty stews - plus much, much dessert - they retired to the drawing-room, warming themselves by the glow of the crackling fireplace. Eren had shifted himself to the floor and was slumped against the legs of his chair, while Armin sat in a big armchair, leaning right into the cushions. Cerberus lay between them, heads resting on Eren’s lap and tail wagging lazily across the carpeted floor. He let his hands brush over the dog’s smooth coat and scratched him behind his many ears. He looked up and realised Armin was watching him quietly. The soft light danced across his features and his blond hair was like a golden halo. He looked the furthest thing from an imposing god, the lord of the dead. In the orange light he just was: a slender boy, almost-man, with bony knees and silky hair, large eyes heavy-lidded and half-closed. Body relaxing into his seat, basking in the warmth of the fire and filled with a good meal, enjoying the moment and the presence of someone else.

Armin caught his gaze. “Thank you for today, Eren,” he said softly.

Eren scoffed. “Sentimental bastard,” he whispered, and by the firelight, he swore Armin’s blue eyes had crinkled at the corners and his round mouth had curled into a slow, soft smile.

vi.

The plants that Eren had carefully, lovingly sown were coming to fruit, putting out rosy apples and dark velvet figs. They hung low on bended branches like teardrops and had to be harvested quickly before they turned soft and overripe. Eren was spending longer days in the garden which he’d carved out for himself, tending to his crops and reaping the bountiful harvest which he piled around him: lush and speckled gourds, bright fuchsia pomegranates, waxy yellow lemons, tender red berries and grapes in frosted hues, which all lay languidly in wooden crates waiting to be savoured. His favourite were the peaches, which were round and ripe in his hands and whose blush matched the pink in his cheeks as he worked tirelessly at the land. And of course he had a soft spot for the grain in its multitude of forms. The long stalks tickled his face and he brushed them away absentmindedly, even as his hands worked to pick the tiny seeds from their dried heads and shuck the full ears of corn that filled the rustling fields around the obsidian castle.

He was digging up the jewel-toned carrots when Armin found him. He had rested a foot on his worn shovel, pressing it into the soft earth, and had paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. From the corner of his eye he spotted a blond figure approaching the edge of the plot, black robes rustling against the freshly tilled dirt.

Armin slowly made his way up to him. He’d grown, somewhat, in their time together, but he was still small and lithe and he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as he spoke:

“Um. Today’s the day. You can leave if you want. I mean…it’s been half a year, hasn’t it?”

Eren watched as he shifted his weight from left to right, and then back again. He’d been thinking about this a lot. They both had. And he had decided. So he merely laughed, turning slowly to wipe his hands on his slacks. He reached for the fruit piled high around them. The ripe pomegranate bruised easily under his fingers as he twisted it open.

And its juice was warm and sweet, trickling down his mouth and lips, as he bit into the soft flesh of its ruby red insides and swallowed its seeds.

here you go, anon! you've asked and i've tried my best to deliver. this was tremendously fun to do so thanks for it:") i’ve put it on ao3 where i might tinker a bit more with it...so watch that space.

and please feel free to ask more :”)

#Eren Jaeger #eremin #armin #armin arlet #eren #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #greek myth retellings #hades and persephone #fruit & homoerotic undertones lol #askbox prompts

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giftwrappingpaper · 3 years

Text

wangxian bakery au

prompt: "I'd love to enable a creator to write/draw that self-indulgent niche workplace AU they've always wanted to make."

Lan Zhan finds Wei Ying baking bread in the kitchen of a hole-in-the-wall bakery in Yiling.

-----

A low, all too familiar voice hesitantly calls his name. "Wei Ying?"

No fucking way. Wei Ying looks up, raised eyebrows wrinkling his flour-dusted forehead. Yep, that’s Lan Zhan alright; no matter how many years pass, Wei Ying could recognize that face anywhere. His sharp, meticulously perfect appearance makes him look like a high-fashion magazine model cutout slapped on a stock photo of yellowed plaster and secondhand baking equipment.

“No customers in the back,” Wei Ying advises before returning his attention to the dough in his hands. A picture of informality, with a small smirk playing on his lips — a half-hearted attempt to conceal the shock and surmounting panic bubbling in his gut.

How the hell did he find me? one side of his brain despairs, while the other side reassures that at least it isn’t Jiang Cheng.

Lan Zhan continues his stalwart breach of Burial Bakery’s kitchen. What a rebel. “Wei Ying,” he says again.

“That’s me.”

“You’re here.”

“Uh, yeah?”

“You’re in a...bakery. Baking.”

Wei Ying breathed in the calming smell of fresh sourdough and tangy levain. Thank the heavens he had been able to convince Wen Ning to take a lunch break, leaving Wei Ying to man the kitchen alone. This isn’t going to be pretty.

“That’s kinda what we do here, yeah,” he says, eyes trained on his workbench, crowded with floured bannetons and formless lumps of dough. “A helping hand would be nice. I’d appreciate that much more than the gawking.”

Lan Zhan blinks, jawing clenching and ears flushing. Wei Ying’s smirk lifts into something softer. Even after all this time, it’s still so easy to rile him up.

“How’d you even find me, anyway?” he wonders, stretching his dough flat against the workbench, stopping right when it’s about to rip. Gently, of course. Wouldn’t want to pop the gas built up after hours of proofing.

“The back door is open,” Lan Zhan answers faintly. His expression mirrors the face of a guy after finding a years-long missing sock long since chalked off as having been eaten by the dryer. “I saw you from the counter.”

A quick glance to the entrance confirms this. Wen Ning must’ve forgotten to close the door when he left. Damn, that’s no good. Can’t let the cold air flow in. Might mess with the dough proofing in the walk-in.

“Could you close that for me?” Wei Ying asks, briefly letting go of the dough to rub the back of his neck. When Lan Zhan continues to stand there, motionless like a beautiful, bewildered statue, Wei Ying tsks and says, “I’m not going anywhere, Lan Zhan. Gotta get yesterday's proofed loaves in the oven by the hour.”

Miraculously, Lan Zhan obeys. Wei Ying half expected him not to. He and Lan Zhan have never been the closest of friends; Wei Ying was an annoying student, and Lan Zhan has a zero tolerance for annoying classmates. But people can change, he supposes. It’s been over four years, and neither of them are the same people they were before Wei Ying packed up his things and gave up his cushioned life in the Jiang estate and his scholarship to one of the most prestigious universities in the country to start slumming it with the Wen siblings and A-Yuan in their closet of an apartment.

“Aw, thanks,” Wei Ying says when Lan Zhan returns. He belatedly realizes that he should’ve asked Lan Zhan to close the door behind him as he leaves the kitchen that he, as a non-employee, isn’t supposed to be in. Oh well; Wen Qing can chew him out for all the health codes he’s violating later. Isn’t she supposed to be manning the front? Lan Zhan must have snuck past her to get here, so she’s just as guilty.

“So you’ve been here the whole time?” Lan Zhan says, watching Wei Ying shape the dough. “Since you — left?”

“Basically.” Stitch the dough into itself. Then fold and tuck. Push the dough underneath itself with the palm of your hands to create surface tension, giving the newly formed loaf that tight, professional finish. Took Wei Ying ages to get the method down pat enough to be consistent. “Wanted to get out of the Jiangs’ hair, so I left soon after dropping out of uni.”

Dust the loaf with rice flour. Place it into a banneton, seam side up. Into the rack, then repeat. “A friend of mine had just inherited their family bakery. I volunteered to help out, and it eventually ended up becoming a full-time thing.”

Lan Zhan stands there without a word — not that Wei Ying minds. He hadn’t let himself dream they’d see each other again, hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up that he'd be lucky enough to see a familiar face again after all this time. Damn, he thinks, sneaking glance after glance between the loaves he’s shaping, he’s more handsome now than ever. Who knew the gorgeous teenager he’d harassed throughout two years of university would turn out to become a gorgeous adult who somehow stumbles into Wei Ying’s bakery? Even the unflattering cast of the yellow, flickering overhead light Wen Qing had been meaning to replace can’t wash out how black Lan Zhan’s hair is, how his skin is as smooth as a baby’s. How golden his eyes are, peering at Wei Ying as if he’s the sunrise after a long, cloudy night.

Bah. Where the hell did that come from? Maybe Wei Ying really is as self-centered as Aunt Yu claimed him to be.

“I wasn’t aware of your...baking aspirations,” Lan Zhan says, causing Wei Ying to choke out a laugh. He’d forgotten how funny Lan Zhan could be.

“Me neither,” Wei Ying admits. He sidesteps the kitchen mixer he’d spent the last year fixing up — he’d bought it in a sorry state, but Hobart engines are built to last a lifetime, and he couldn’t pass up the deal he paid for — to place another filled banneton into the rack. “But I’m not too mad at where I’ve ended up. Speaking of. How did you end up here?”

Lan Zhan's shoulders hunch suspiciously, and Wei Ying's eyebrows arch into fucking parabolas. “I wanted bread,” Lan Zhan replies defensively. “So I went to a bakery.”

Wei Ying scoffs, unimpressed. “A bakery all the way in Yiling?”

Lan Zhan glances away. “I travel a lot for work.”

Fine — he’ll let it go for now. “Well, as long as you don’t tell anyone back home about this, I guess it’s fine.” Wei Ying pauses. “You’re not gonna rat me out, are you?”

The thought should scare him, but a traitorously large part of him thrills at it instead. The Jiangs' are a key food supplier for the Lans' hotel chain, so Lan Zhan has to have some form of communication with them. Does Jiejie think about him from time to time? And Jiang Cheng...well. They’re still brothers, aren't they? Surely he must, at some small capacity, miss him.

But no brotherly love, whatever left there may be, could erase this: the cold silence that hung over the Jiang family table whenever Wei Ying would show up for dinner. Aunt Yu’s constant disapproval and Jiang Cheng’s wavering willingness to put up with it. The car ride. The screech of metal. The hospital said their Range Rover flipped four times. Wei Ying must have passed out after the first. But he was lucky: only a broken arm and whiplash. He had lied about being too hurt to attend the funeral.

It had been a good decision to leave. It had to be.

The back of his neck stings; a constant reminder. He hangs his head low as he stitches the dough.

“I’m not going to...rat you out,” Lan Zhan denies. He’s closer than he’d been since the last time Wei Ying looked up, his slack-clad hip brushing against the corner of Wei Ying’s workbench. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t. Thanks.” Another banneton in the rack. Slower output than usual. He’s going to have to speed up to reach today’s quota. He gestures to the door. “Now, if you’re not gonna help out…”

Lan Zhan doesn’t take the hint. “You left. Without saying goodbye.”

“Must’ve forgotten to leave a note,” Wei Ying says, nonplussed.

“No one knew where you had gone off to.”

“Kinda preferred it that way.”

“But I didn’t —” Lan Zhan stops. Takes a breath. This is the most emotional Wei Ying has ever seen him, if mildly discomfited could constitute as emotional.

When he meets Wei Ying’s eyes again, his face is in its usual state of aloofness. “I was worried about you,” he tells him. “I wish I had known that you were alright.”

A block of guilt presses on Wei Ying’s shoulders. “Oh,” he says. “Sorry.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.”

“It’s just — with all that happened with the, the accident, and the handling of the estate —”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me you’re not comfortable with.”

“And my relationship with Jiang Cheng was down the fucking gutter —”

“He misses you.”

“I just felt that it everything would’ve been better off if —”

“I understand.”

“— I just left, y’know?”

At this, Lan Zhan frowns. “I fail to see how your sudden disappearance made anything better,” he says.

“Well, you weren’t there.” Wei Ying sighs, and what little fight he had to defend himself from the past drops to the floor. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

Lan Zhan bristles. “I didn’t mean to — that’s not why I’m here.”

Then why are you here? But Wei Ying is done playing this game. “Look, it’s really nice to see you again. But I kind of have a lot on my plate right now, so if you don’t mind.” This time, his gesture to the door is clear. Leave.

Of course Lan Zhan doesn’t leave; he’s always been so damn stubborn. After a beat, he walks over to the empty sink — Wei Ying prefers to wash the dishes as he goes — and washes his hands. Dries them. Rolls up the sleeves of his button up, revealing forearms Wei Ying can’t help but swallow at. Makes his way to Wei Ying’s side, staring down at the lumps of dough like how a runner glares at the bottom of her shoe after stepping on a pile of dogshit.

“Alright,” he says, “how do I do this?”

Wei Ying blinks. “What?” he asks, like an idiot.

Lan Zhan experimentally cups the nearest dough mound with his palms. It sticks to his hands as he lifts them, streaks of the stuff already clinging to his slender fingers.

“Gross,” he says, monotone, pinching two ends to stretch it; an imitation, Wei Ying realizes, of his own technique.

Wei Ying stares. An incredulous smile spreads across his lips. “You’re —” He laughs. “You’re so weird, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan squints at him, confused, hands still making a mess out of the dough. “You asked for my help.”

Perhaps all those years away from home was enough penance for, at the very least, this. “Yeah," he says, soft. "I guess I did.” Wei Ying sways closer to Lan Zhan’s side. He discreetly sniffs the air in a selfish bid to find...ah, there it is, masked between notes of wheat flour and sourdough starter: sandalwood aftershave, brushing past Wei Ying's nose when Lan Zhan turns to him with an expectant glance.

Wei Ying laughs again. “No, not like that. Like this.”

He lays a floured hand over Lan Zhan’s and, together, they get to work.

-----

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