#i just like putting tiny little easter eggs into my writing

[andiwriteordie]

feels like enough time has passed that i can tell you that this part of i keep my distance (but you still catch my eye) was meant to be a little foreshadowing/nod to the s5 theory of mike getting dragged into the upside down and will following him

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

I AM BEGGING YOU TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR GABRIEL (one of Rory’s characters) PLEASEEEE😭😭😭

It is my pleasure, anonnie 🖤🫶🏻

Crybaby

Summary: Gabriel throws up his meds…again! At first, you think that he’s just sick of them but there’s more to it…

Pairing: virgin!Gabriel x nurse!fem!Reader

Word Count: - 2.8k

Content Warnings: Psych Ward Smut 18+!, Kinda Angsty On Gabe’s Part, Gabe Being A Manipulative Little Shit But He Doesn’t Mean Any Harm He’s Just Delulu, Throwing Up, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions Of Medication, Mentions Of Gabe’s Shitty Shitty Family, Pet Names, Reader Absolutely Babying Gabe, A Bit Of Hair Pulling, It’s Giving Mommy Vibes Just Saying, An Attempted Handjob, I Put In A Tiny Easter Egg For All My Fellow New Amsterdam Watchers <3

A/N: A massive Thank You! to @spookyorchid for putting the thoughts about virgin Gabe into my head!

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @r0ttenmess @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess

You're all on your own and

You lost all your friends

You told yourself that

It's not you, it's them

You're one of a kind

And no one understands

But those cry baby tears

Keep coming back again

- Crybaby By Melanie Martinez

Friday, the clock gradually ticked towards 10 P.M.

Nightshift, as per usual. Bleak, cold light against equally pale, white walls. The occasional splatter of random color in the form of a rather contemporary piece of art didn’t exactly help with the eerie atmosphere creeping through Ward 4 like every night after sundown.

With your head looming over an array of documents that were messily scattered across a white-painted desk, you felt your body getting swept by the third Red Bull you’d hammered down about 10 minutes ago, nerve endings buzzing and a stomach twitching in the need to do something, anything but sitting at this damned desk, filling out forms for the dayshift staff. The ballpoint pen between your fingers drew slightly shaky lines as you ticked the boxes for the taken medications after dinner, scribbling down names of substances you could hardly spell out properly even after two years of working here.

The harsh ticking of the clock right behind you, hanging high above locked drawers full of files and pill bottles, echoed in your perked ears, all senses heightened treacherously by the unquestionably unhealthy amount of caffeine rushing through your bloodstream.

You scrunched your nose ever so slightly as the tip of the pen chaffed over the paper, leaving the outlines of the box in a sudden, involuntary jerk of your hand. Footsteps, dull and muffled, nevertheless, still very much audible in your little, open-doored and window-framed bureau.

"My goodness, Gabriel…" You sighed, leaning back and straightening out the wrinkles in your mint-green scrubs before heading out, sliding the ballpoint pen into a little pocket on your chest.

Just like every Friday, Gabe was the only patient left on Ward 4 of the clinic. Everybody else had left for home or wherever after the post-dinner distribution of meds for the residents who needed them. Everybody but poor Gabriel. His family had stopped coming by or god forbid picking him up for the weekends at least 6 months ago. His older brother, Matthew, had stuck to it a little longer than their mother but he, too, eventually had stopped showing his face around here.

Needless to say that it had left Gabriel in absolute shambles. For a long time, it had been nothing but heartbreaking to see how he had gotten his hopes up every Friday after dinner, his bright blue eyes transfixed on the entrance doors, waiting for his brother to waltz in and pick him up to go home, even if it was just for the weekend. However, no one came and with every weekend passing by, Gabe had grown more and more apathetic towards everything and anything surrounding him. You couldn't even blame him…not that you tried to, to begin with, no, you felt wholeheartedly sorry for him. Left behind by his own family just like that. The medical bills were paid and with that, Gabriel was out of their sight and presumably out of their mind, too.

For the first few weeks, Gabe had been acting out on every next-best occasion; food had been thrown, cigarettes flicked into other residents' and staff members' faces until finally, it had calmed down. Now his tantrums were rare and tame compared to the whole storm he used to bring with him. Maybe he'd simply given up on it or therapy was finally doing something for him instead of against him in his already severely fragile state of mind.

Walking along the dimly lit corridor, the nearly sterile clean, unwelcoming linoleum floor squeaking under your trainers, you taunted yourself not to think about it too much because it would only render you sad and sorry for him. Eventually, those thoughts would dig up the pressing need to see Gabe happy for once and those were emotions and wishes you simply had to throw right out of the window whilst working here. You had absolutely no business entertaining personal relations with the residents in here but you sensed an inkling that a part of you was way beyond that already in regards to poor Gabe.

“Hey…Gabe? Are you okay?” You asked through the door before turning the knob to the side to enter.

“Leave me alone!” His sore voice croaked back from the bathroom, the door to it wide open and light emitting from it flooding the rest of the room.

“That’s not exactly what my job requires me to do, Gabe, you know that.” You tried to sound a little humorous about it to take the tension out of the situation.

You knew very well what had happened even before you turned the corner to pass through the doorframe, exhaling a low sigh as you saw Gabe crouching down in front of the toilet bowl.

“Again?” You asked, giving your best to draw any judgment from your tone.

“Hate ‘em.” It blubbered from Gabe’s lips in a choked-back whine.

“I know…I know you don’t like the meds.” In a soothing manner, you sat down next to him on the bathroom tiles, your back leaning against the wall and arms slumped between your slightly parted knees.

“Make me feel drowsy and tired all the time…” Gabe sniffled, wiping his mouth with a scrunched-up ball of toilet paper before tossing it in the bowl.

“I know…” You sighed, turning your face towards him, “But it won’t get any better when you throw them up all the time, no? It’s not good for your throat, your teeth and you're not doing your body any favor with it, angel face.”

Gabriel whirled his head around at the mention of his very own, little pet name you gave him a while ago. It never failed to draw his fickle attention towards you.

“But I hate them…” He groaned, repeating his obvious dislike towards the pills he had to swallow daily.

“Maybe you wouldn’t hate them so much if you gave your body some time to adjust to them, huh? I know they suck, make you tired and give you a bit of a tummy ache from time to time but, you know, I think that maybe your body just needs a while to get used to the medication.” You arched your brows a little, tilting your head to the side with a faint smile ghosting around your mouth.

“Hmm…”, Gabriel pouted at you, his bright blue eyes covered with a watery sheen, indicating that he wasn’t far from spilling tears, “‘m not gonna take them, no, nuh-uh, never.”

“C’mon now, I know you can be a good boy tomorrow, no? Just try it. Two weeks tops and you’ll feel better.” Trying to convince him would take a good while but it wasn’t entirely impossible.

“No.” He stated bluntly, his chin lowering towards his chest as the first droplets gushed over his lower lashline.

“It’s okay, Gabe, it’s okay…come here.” Against all rules and guidelines, you raised your arm and offered Gabriel to crawl into a tender embrace.

He sobbed quietly as he shoved his face against your chest, a wash of new tears soaking into your scrubs, rendering the mint-green darker.

“I’m sure you can do that, Gabe. I promise to be with you on the weekends like always, yeah?” You tried to soothe him, your arm wrapped around his shaking statue for your fingers to play with the hairs falling down to the nape of his neck.

“You…you’re..”, He tried to catch his jittery breath, “Y-You’re the only one who’s here for me. Everybody else just hates me. I know they do!”

At his words your stomach dropped, twisting and coiling in a surge of painful compassion for the hurt Gabriel was in. You knew it all too well yourself.

“Don’t say that, Gabe. I don’t think anybody here hates you. Just the other day Rose and Henry asked you if you want to play cards with them, remember?” Trying to guide him to do the same, you allowed your body to relax against his, your angled knees stretching out over the bathroom tiles.

“But only because Dr. Frome made them ask me…” Gabe blubbered against your collarbone, taking your new position as an opportunity to sneak himself right onto your lap, his fingers clawing at your sides.

“Gabe, hey…”, You tried to admonish not only him but yourself as well that he was clearly crossing a boundary here, “Angel face, you can’t do that, please.”

“Hmhmmm…”, He whined, slightly pressing his front against your chest, nuzzling his forehead into the crook of your neck, strands of his hair brushing over your skin, “Please, just for a moment. N-nobody here hugs me...ever.”

With a slightly choked-back sigh, you gave in to his plea to be held for a moment. You knew that the two of you were the only ones left on Ward 4 and that wouldn’t change until Monday morning. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to comfort Gabriel in a way he craved while nobody else was watching.

“Only if you are honest with me for a moment, Gabe.” You squinted down at his face, a warm smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you saw that he had his eyes closed, features all relaxed and calm while the last few tears trickled over his slightly blushed cheek.

“Uh-huh…” He hummed quietly.

“I have the feeling there might be another reason for you throwing up your meds, angel face…” You proposed, watching his expression change ever so slightly. Caught.

“What do you mean?” Gabriel tried to act innocent.

“I think you know just fine what I mean, Gabe, don’t you?” To coax the answer out of him, your fingers crept into the thick of his hair from his neck on upwards, tugging a bit more vigorously at a few strands.

“Hmhmm, h-hey…” It fell from his lips as something in between a whine and a bashful moan.

“Oh... “ You actively forgot yourself for a moment and pulled at his hair again to make Gabe squeak out once more.

“Mmmm…wanted your attention.” He confessed eventually, hiding his increasingly blushing face in the curve of your shoulder where the tip of his nose grazed right over your pulse point.

“See? Good boy.” You stopped tugging but left your fingers to brush through his soft hair repeatedly.

“Am I?” His warm breath gingerly blew over your exposed skin, sending a wave of treacherous goosebumps all over your chest, causing your nipples to perk up against the inside of your bra.

“Yes, most of the time you are.”; You led your eyes to wander from his face over his striped shirt down to his checkered shorts, a visible bulge pushing against the fabric, “But you’d be an even better boy for me if you’d take your meds, yeah? Do you think you can do that for me tomorrow, Gabe?”

“Maybe…”, He reluctantly started agreeing, “I can try…”

“That’s a start.”, You cooed into the crown of his head, desperately holding on to your reason to not get horribly side-tracked by Gabe’s openly showing arousal, “And when you want my attention you know where to find me, no? Just come and talk to me next time, yeah?”

One part of you felt terribly sorry for him as an individual whereas the other part pitied him for being a man in his early twenties, stuck in a psych ward with little to no privacy. You knew just all too well that there wasn’t much to do around besides playing cards, smoking an ungodly amount of cigarettes out of boredom, or jerking off given the next best opportunity to and you’d lie if you said that you hadn’t noticed it before…haven’t heard him getting off as you walked through the ward on patrol.

“I don’t mean it like that…” A new flush of red surged into his cheeks.

“Huh?” Before you even had so much as the chance to utter a fully formed question, Gabriel’s lips were on your jaw, softly pressing into your skin in an almost shy peck that sent your senses grasping for better judgment.

He did it again, his soft lips creeping closer towards yours this time.

“Mmmm…w-want your attention like that. Do you like that?” He quipped, his mouth latching on to the corner of your mouth curiously.

“No, Gabe, stop!” You forced yourself to pull your head away from him, looking at him with wide eyes as his glacier-blue stared right back.

“No?” He winced, his voice oozing with emotional hurt.

“Sorry, angel face, I’m so sorry. Yes, yes, I do like that very much but we can’t, do you understand that? I’ll get fired when someone finds out, Gabe.” It rambled out of your mouth, mind and body fighting for the high ground right now.

“Well, nobody has to find out, duh.” His brows furrowed, a dead-pan expression on his face as if your worries were the most unreasonable he’d ever heard.

“Gabe…listen.” He made you shut up by raising one hand to his mouth, imitating the motion of turning a key in a lock before tossing the key.

“ ‘M not gonna say anything, I promise, I’m going to be a good boy.” Hearing him talk to you like that, the pleading and begging in his eyes beaming right at you nearly threatened to kill you on the spot.

“Gabe..” Repeating his name in a weak attempt to pull yourself together did absolutely nothing, instead, the young man sitting all curled up in your lap leaned in to press a daring kiss directly to your lips this time.

“Please…”, He practically moaned into your slightly agape mouth, craving, “Had nobody to do all that with before.”

“No one?” You looked at him, an awkward sense of morally gray compassion mixed into your own arousal.

“Nuh-uh.” Gabriel shook his head softly, his eyes glued to your lips.

For a split second, you pondered, heavy thoughts racing through your mind like bullets until one hit the control panel, causing a collateral shutdown.

“Fuck it, come here.” Your own breath hitched as your hand reached out to cradle his face gently, pulling his head toward yours until you were the one to kiss him.

Gabriel’s little mewls and moans filled your ears whilst your other hand brushed down his chest, across the waistband of his shorts, your palm teasingly brushing over his hard cock that was straining against the fabric heavily.

“Do that again..please…” He whined into the kiss, hips squirming to get another touch of your hand against his hard-on.

“Ask nicely, Gabe.” You instructed him, feeling a certain wetness pooling between your thighs.

“Please touch me there again..”, Gabriel’s voice broke as he tried to stutter a plea, “P-pretty please!”

It nearly knocked the air from your lungs and you felt the intoxication flood your bloodstream as you granted him his wish, now stroking over his clothed cock with the full length of your hand, fingers tracing the silhouette.

“Hmm…feels so fucking good, please don’t stop.” After breaking from the kiss, he nuzzled his face back into the crook of your neck, his shallow breaths hitting your jaw at a desperate, needy pace.

“Didn’t plan to, don’t worry.”, You planted a quick smooch on his temple, feeling like you were about to lose your mind over him, “My goodness, you’re so hard right now, aren’t you, Gabe?”

“Uh-huh, f-feels so good already.” It sounded as if he was about to start crying again, this time out of newly found pleasures.

“Fuck, ah…no. Shit.” The words rambled out of Gabriel’s mouth and felt immediately why.

His hip rocked and quivered against the palm of your hand, his entire body grew tense as he clawed at your scrubs whilst a puddle of wet soaked through his shorts, his cock pulsing and throbbing underneath.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. You’ll last a little longer next time.” You clutched his trembling torso against you, peppering his forehead with quick kisses, your heart hammering against your ribcage as a sense of realization started to dawn on you.

“Next time?” Gabriel hummed, a curious tone in his voice.

“We have the entire weekend now, don’t we?”

[sweetheartturtle2007]

Hi! I stumbled across your head cannons page and was wondering if you would be willing to write ☠️ and 💧 for Bunnymund from Rise of the Guardians?

For sure my dear 🤍 also I wrote female reader since you didn't said what gender you wanted 😅 so I hope it's ok

The sun was shining in the ceiling, giving the warren a beautiful lighting, making the flowers look all gorgeous in all their glory, the golems walking slowly, securing the warren, everything was quiet, the only sounds that could be heard were some birds who passed by, the lil chocolate eggs remain untouched and uncolored in a lil pile.

Suddenly one of them got out of the pile, and started running around, even do it didn't have eyes, it could still see everything around him. He searched for him, the one takes care of them, the one who paints them,the one...who's supposed to deliver them every spring...but he was nowhere to be found. The golems tried to make the lil guy go back to his slumber, at least until the one in charge came back but the tiny eggs didn't listen, he moved between the big rock golems and run into the hole that lead to the place where the "one in charge" sleeps. The deeper he went, the more he could hear some...cries...cries that weren't supposed to be there...in such a colorful and calming place as the warren. The lil guys stopped his running and slowly aproched the room.

There he was, the fuzzy and fluffy Easter bunny, he was the "one in charge", the one who was supposed to paint them and prepare them for every spring. But..he wasn't moving, he wasn't jumping around like he always did every single day, he was...still..not moving an inch, he was just sitting in his bed with his head down, looking into something in his hands.

The little eggs walked into the room, made a jump with the enough strength to make him fall onto the bunny's bed. He slowly aproched him, going by one of his sides, he passed by the bunny's arm and rested itself onto the bunny's lap. He was finally able to see the bunny's expression.

Tears. Tears submerged his red puffy eyes,the fur on his face was soaked in tears, there was no life in his face, no expressions no anything. The lil eggs turned his gaze into the bunny's hands, in them, there was a photo.

An elegant looking lady was in it, her beautiful features were perfectly illuminated by the sun in the photo, her smile was the most attractive thing in the photo. She was holding a basket full of his colored egg partners, behind her was a sing hanging by the trees that read "Easter's egg hunting".

Meanwhile, bunny was lost in his own thoughts, horrific thoughts, memories from that tragic event that happens just a week ago.

A week ago his life seemed like the happiest one, greatest news were thrown into him, those news make him feel alive, happy, lucky, with his partner by his side, everything was perfect. He loved his other half with all his heart, he promised her that he'll never let her go. He wanted to keep that promise at all cost.

Everything was going so well, they were throwing a party to celebrate the big news, all his friends were there, everyone was having fun, but then... everything went down.

In one moment he was holding his wife, looking into hey beautiful eyes, her bright beautiful smile and then at the next one, he was looking for her through the smoke maze that was covering his view, pitch attacked the party along with his shadows, everything was chaos, the decorations were torn apart, the tables were destroyed or upside down, the food was all over the floor. His friends were fighting against pitch. He didn't care about him, he wanted to find his wife, put her in safety and then he'll fight, but his family was first.

Then he spotted her, she was dragging herself through the floor behind pitch, he started running towards her, he saw her get up with difficulty and took one of her arrows and prepared herself to release the shot towards pitch. What she didn't know was that pitch already know about her presence behind him.

"Nice try lil birdie, but I'm the only one winning here today!"

suddenly a shadow stuck in her back making her scream in pain, bunny tried to reach her breaking past the other shadows.

Once he was able to get closer, he dropped to the floor and took her in his arms, the nightmare sand was covering her body, bunny was panicking, he didn't know what to do.

"Darling! Hang in there, I'm gonna help you I promise!" His vision was getting blocked by the tears in his eyes.

"¡bunny!, ¡Take her and go with north! We'll take care of these shadows!" Jack said.

Bunny run to North's sled, he was in it in seconds, north took the rails and started flying away from the scene.

"You're gonna be okay darling! Just hang in there"

He was holding her hand as HIS own life was in danger, the black sand keep covering her body, bunny wanted to stop it but he wasn't able to.

In that moment his wife took his face in her hands and kissed his tears away.

"I'm so sorry....I wasn't able to protect you... " He said between hiccups....his hearts was breaking into million pieces, ¡This wasn't supposed to happen!

"it's okay bunny, don't worry...you'll always be my hero..."

And just like that, those were the last words his wife said before the black sand cover her full...making disappear.

...

In the present, the lil eggs felt something feel upon him, he turned his gaze to bunny, who's tears were already coming back to submerge his eyes in full sadness.

He held the picture of his wife tightly against his face, crying disconsolately.

The egg wasn't able to do anything more for him...he just turned his gaze to the front.

There was a beautifully decorated baby crib, with plushies and beautiful paintings. Those were the big news they were celebrating that tragic day,those were the plans that he had with her...his wife was pregnant.

He just didn't loose the most important person in his life...he also loose the new one that was coming.

OOOOO HELLO WORLD, SORRY I'VE BEEN GONE FOR SO LONG, I MISSED YOU ALL, FEEL FREE TO SEND REQUEST IF YOU WANT (please read rules.)

[clochanam]

i wanna share one of the few techniques i have for like. not necessarily erasing writer's block but like, it helps me to think about things from a different perspective? so basically on yout.ube there's this content creator channel called cinemawins. and he's honestly one of my favorite creators because he just talks about the great stuff that exists in movies! and it could be technical stuff or writing or acting or costumes or setting, ANYTHING! anyway, i'm watching one at the minute where he talks about chronicle, and it occurred to me that actually the reason i love to watch his videos and feel a lot more motivated to write afterwards is because he really genuinely does love everything and pays attention to every feature in the movie. he's so invested in the details and it's something that just makes me so eager to put in little easter eggs and little elements of things in my writing, because it always will get noticed by SOMEBODY, yk? and i mean that this guy literally took a tiny blind-and-miss-it detail where the main character doesn't show his face until his confidence is elevated and his powers are active, and he analyzed it so beautifully, and it just really gets you thinking about these things and how they echo and pay off in the long run.

[superblysubpar]

My friend

One of my fav things about WCIL is that they each had this journey of not being true to themselves. She was punishing herself - a self imposed thing forcing herself to believe that good things can't happen because they'll all end and he was punishing himself because... Well the pervasive Rich Dick dad card. Living your life for someone else vs not living your life for anything. Both of these paths are honestly so relatable. And I think it just goes to show that fighting things to meet expectations you put on yourself or others put on you just ... Don't work. Punishing yourself because of what others want from you or you think you deserve....totally whack....but WE do it ALL the time. Sell ourselves short. Think *this is the best I'm gonna get so this is how it is* Even if it's not love... Reader didn't owe her life and love in exchange for her parents and neither did Steve. Their respective "debt" to their parents needed to be kicked to the curb to do what they need to do for themselves.

Also, I don't think I blabbed about this part but one of my absolute favorite character traits about Steve is how observant he is. He is so smart because he pays attention. And I think it's probably a trauma response from his childhood or a result of boredom growing up being toted around ... Like what else was he gonna do? He knew all the old rich person gossip I just know it. And he probably was so observant because he tried so hard to find things to get his parents approval - like maybe if I do this thing that I noticed my mom likes she's love me more. Maybe if I do that thing I noticed they liked they'll stay home with me this summer. That's why he's "charismatic" because he is adaptive and knows what people are looking for from him. I think that helps him in the ST story and his problem solving and seeing patterns (S3 and the carousel music, etc). He notices the small things and they're so small most people write him off quickly about it. So I think that any AU that really puts that into his character is just beautiful. Because i can imagine the way his heart would swell when he realizes he can store that tiny piece of information away, or when he immediately had an idea because someone said something and it will pay off. Because I bet so much of that observant nature in his life was never appreciated by anyone. His HS friends took advantage, his parents didn't care...it never really made a difference. But when they DO make a difference to someone oh my god. And they made such sweet moments in your story that are subtle (the food orders, pickles, the well timed balcony sex, the Christmas dish, grilled cheese, I mean... So many things you hid in there) and yeah they're all cute Easter eggs for your story that really took a lot of thought and intention as you wrote those callbacks later but... It's also such a perfect ode to Steve as a character. That's how he IS. So I love that for you and your story as a writer because that brings me so much joy as a reader to recognize those little treats, but also so much joy as a Steve lover because its so *him*

I also love love the arcade chapter. Just running into him in that hat having the sweetest day/not date. Like they both really needed that moment together because they were in their feels respectively just... quietly. And god were they misunderstanding each other in such a real way. Id give my left tit to know what was going on his his brain that day. He was probably SO angsty knowing what we know now was going on for him at that point.

Ok I'm done. Bye. 📣

I don't even know how to respond to this...I am SO emotional...I read this hours ago and I literally just started sobbing. I was literally, in the middle of something semi-big involving WCIL (an announcement for future taylor to share on Tumblr MAYBE) and then, I went into my kitchen, started cooking dinner and put on When Harry Met Sally. And as I was drinking a glass of white wine and thinking about how I desperately want to write a movie or a book or a show that someone loves so much that one day they're in their kitchen, drinking wine, cooking dinner and playing it or thinking about it...I opened Tumblr and saw this.

Now, I can't even begin to tell you how much an analysis like this means to me. How much you sharing this with me will literally be a moment I remember for the rest of my life. I wish I could say thank you and address key things more eloquently and dive into the insanely amazing things you pointed out and sent but I'm truly at a loss for words. I can't believe you felt and got all of this out of the story and I'm just incredibly touched.

Thank you for sending this, and thank you again to anyone who's sent anything about WCIL the past few days when I asked. You've made a sad girl who's been Going Through It ™️ be able to say "It's okay. You're doing this and it's scary and it's gonna be okay."

I can't say thank you enough 💛

P. S: I am *literally* demanding we meet one day so I can kiss you and also give you a handmade mix tape which feels far too small of a way to say thank you but it is our shared love language and I'll tape it to a bottle of champagne 💛

[commando-rogers]

I was writing abt this in the tags of a post from @neil-gaiman but I’m having too many thoughts I need to put them in a post because mister Gaiman sir this is absolutely brilliant and I love it.

Aziraphale is reading a tale of two cities!! and my immediate thought was “ok what does this mean” because I love the little Easter eggs and symbolism artists put in. first thought was of course two cities = heaven and hell which is just objectively fucking hilarious thank you Mr Gaiman. It was the best of times it was the worst of times it was the end times?????

I’m not the most familiar with the novel but I know it deals in part with the French Revolution/the bastille which is also very funny re: the episode 3 cold open. Again not super familiar though so anyone is welcome to shed more light on this and if there’s more there than my sensible chuckle (as I’m sure there is)

BUT I looked up the entire first paragraph/sentence to see the rest of it and oh my god.

“…it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness…”

“…we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way…”

“…in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”

Charles Dickens does Good Omens. I’m losing my mind this is so hilariously spot on to the themes of Good Omens, of COURSE the poster features Aziraphale reading it. I LOVE this. He even seems to be near the very beginning, with a page near the very beginning marked???

I love tiny little details like this that are so easily missed but clearly had so much thought put into them by the creator. Kudos to Neil Gaiman and anyone involved with creating the poster who added this lovely little detail. I’m sure I’m not the first to catch onto this but just noticed it and it made me incredibly happy!!!! Of course I’ll have to go back and scour the rest of the poster later for more I can’t wait- already seeing Catch-22 on the bookshelf too oh my GOD I can’t even dive into picking apart all that means right now. Treasure island and pride and prejudice- oh my GOD pride and prejudice!!! If that isn’t Aziraphale and Crowley to a T!!!!! (not familiar w treasure island someone please feel free to take that and run with it.) Also why is there a camera what’s that saying hm. And are all 3 hands (hour minute second) on the clock pointing to 6 because that’s fucking HILARIOUS

@neil-gaiman if you happen upon this post just know you and any other artists involved made my symbolism-loving heart very happy with this poster!! brb gotta go ponder all of the Aziraphale/Crowley-Elizabeth Bennet/Mr. Darcy parallels

[domini-porter]

Hello, as someone who is no writer but an avit reader of your stories I kind of have a question.

Have you got the plot all drafted out in your head before you start writing or does it come as you go? Cause to me it feels like extremely difficult to write towards something you don't know the ending of. But again not a writer but very curious how your mind works and comes up with these brilliant stories.

Hi hello!!!! Thank you for asking!!!

Short answer: it’s both!

Usually I have one strong image or scene or concept and go from there (Maura doing taxidermy in a fancy dress kicked off the whole thing, for example, or knowing I wanted to do something partly set in an asylum). As for the plots—my approach to how I write the books is kind of changing as I write more of them. The first couple were really me discovering what was happening in real time—sometimes it’s literally like I’m experiencing the story as a reader too, except in order to keep reading I have to type the words first, which probably doesn’t make sense. But it’s super-exciting!

Sometimes I’ll be cruising along and then a character will say something totally unexpected (to me) which sends things in new or different directions, or sets up a whole big story beat I really didn’t see coming. This happens to a lot of writers—it’s incredibly fun! An analogy (from a life-long West Coaster) might be surfing—you’re the one sort of controlling what you’re doing, but mainly you’re just trying to hang on while the ocean (ie, the world of the story that exists only in my head) determines exactly where you go and how fast.

I’m not a disciplined writer, in that I don’t keep notes or outlines or anything. I am disciplined in that the cohesion of each part of the (inevitably super-complex) story is the most important thing, so I constantly (constantly) re-read; by the time I’ve finished a chapter I’ve usually re-read everything up to that point at least once or twice, and the chapter itself way more than that (I write in the notes app so there’s probably more scrolling back up and re-reading than there is, like, writing).

I’m fortunate in that my brain simply maintains this entire universe at all times, like a movie playing in my head, so it’s more like transcription a lot of the time; also that I am both a (literally) compulsive writer and have a lot of time and space and support to do it. So I’m just allowed to spend 10-14 hours a day daydreaming or typing or staring blankly while I try to remember that word I like. I know how lucky I am for sure, but also that these books would be way way way harder to write, and probably less densely detailed and complex, if I wasn’t able to devote so much time to thinking about tiny little intricacies of the plot, or history, or characters.

But back to plots! Like I said a bunch of filler words ago—I don’t usually plan them out in great detail; they sort of just fall together, after I’ve set up enough little twists and Easter eggs. Or (more often) when I’ve laid out a bunch of things that sounded cool to me, and now they all have to make larger sense, because that’s how plots work. There have absolutely been times when I’ve inadvertently written myself into a corner, and it takes me a while to write myself out again. But I guess that’s part of the fun—it’s like putting together a puzzle, even if it’s one I cut myself.

All that said! For this latest one I actually sat down with my best friend/research assistant and talked through the entire plot, which I’ve never done before. I’m not sure if I like now being obliged to write a book where I already know the ending, but what good writerly discipline, I guess.

Ugh I dunno I feel like I did not answer this adequately. But I hope sort of? I mean the other part of it, the part that feels kind of shitty and secret, is I just . . . can do these things, and I really don’t think too much about how or why. But of course a lot of the how and the why is practice practice practice; it feels like these things come naturally because I’ve gravitated to writing and storytelling my whole life, and have been practicing for decades. I guess that’s the short, annoying answer that feels cheap but turns out is frustratingly correct: a brain that loves puzzles, and practice.

Anyway. Sorry for another wall of text that probably doesn’t even get there, but thank you again, sincerely, for asking! And for reading!!!

[madrabit]

🥚🎨👀

🥚 Any easter eggs you put in a fic that you hoped people would notice?

If I'm being honest, I can't remember a lot of the easter eggs I put in. I know I do spent a lot of time researching a bunch of stuff, for example Jan's favorite cookies that Bojan is buying for him in the fourth chapter of Intertwined have send me down a spiral of scrolling through the sweets section of a Slovenian Supermarket, as well as its location in relation to where Bojan could be running around when he's meeting Nace. I also looked at so many different cafés and bakeries around Ljubljana and the proximity of certain parks close to the campus.

And ohh, the only real easter egg I can remember right now is in one of the kiss prompts I wrote. It's the "calculate your pets age" poster in the Bo(Jan)² vet fic (tumblr | ao3), cause by god, he really needs that when he doesn't know how old his own cat is 😂 (it's okay tho, sometimes ppl can't know)

🎨 Show us a sneak peek from a WIP!

Have a little sneak peak from the next chapter of Intertwined, which I plan to finish this week:

Lost in thought, he went through the motions, turning on the kettle and deciding on a blend he really liked. And in less than a few minutes he had his steaming cup in hand, warming his still slightly cold fingers and carefully, he took the few steps from the kitchen back through the hallway and into the living room. His eyes immediately caught on the black and white furball rolled up on the sofa.

"There you are, I was looking for you", he chuckled, setting the cup on the small coffee table and plopped down on the sofa. He reached over, one hand sneaking between Igor's front paws as the cat rolled onto his back to let his human scratch his chest. The loud purring Jan was used to set in almost instantly, making a small, genuine smile spread over his face as he felt the soft fur under his fingertips.

👀 What’s an idea you had for a fic that you never did anything with?

Ohh, I do have a lot of ideas, but there is one with Hellhound!Bojan and Dark Magician!Jan that has been spooking around in my mind for a while now, but I'm not really sure when or if I'll get along to writing it. It would basically be Jan wanting to summon a hellhound to have him get rid of someone for him and instead of having it being a scary, ginormous creature it's just... a tiny guy who doesn't even look like he would want to beat someone up 😂

I also don't know yet what the story would be exactly, just that the vibe should be moody and dark. But yeah, we'll see if I'll ever do sth with it 🤷🏽‍♀️

Send me a question about my fics :3

[freeuselandonorris]

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback? & 💞what's the most important part of a story for you?

(for the writer asks here!)

💫 what is your favourite kind of comment/feedback?

I MEAN look, I am continually delighted that anyone leaves me any feedback at all. not in a ‘aw-shucks my writing is so bad’ way because I know I’m a decent writer! but I am as guilty as anyone for leaving tabs open like ‘I’ll make time to write a comment on this fic soon!’ for six weeks. people are busy! there’s a lot of shit demanding our attention and engagement!

that said, when people pull out particular lines or little character details that they loved, it really makes my day. one of my favourite parts of writing — and fic-writing especially, because we’re all getting to play about in an established universe full of shared reference points — is adding in those tiny details, like little Easter eggs. it makes me really happy when people pick up on them.

also I really like it when people are simultaneously disgusted and turned on by my nasty kink fics 😌

💞 what’s the most important part of a story for you?

ooh. this is an interesting one.

continuing from my point above, for me, writing is an excuse to prod at people. this applies whether I’m writing fic, original fiction, poetry, whatever. I’ve never been great with plots — I understand how they’re constructed and what makes them work, but they’re mostly a necessary evil.

with fic in particular, when I’m writing a particular pairing or fandom, it’s because I want to put myself in the shoes of someone I find fascinating, figure out how they speak and what makes their mannerisms engaging, who they might fall in love with or which particular ways they might want to fuck nasty. obviously a lot of what I write is RPF so that comes with the caveat that I’m very aware that I don’t actually know these real people, nor am I claiming to/want to — I’m just borrowing the shapes. it’s like people-watching cranked up to maximum volume.

all that to say that for me, character analysis is the reason I write 99% of the time, and particularly how certain characters relate to each other. this is partly why I write SO many fics with uneven power dynamics, either inherent (e.g. team principal/driver) or manufactured (kinky shit). it’s such a great framework to explore how two (or more!) characters relate to each other, and I have so much fun loading the scales in one direction or another. for me, if a story (and especially a fic) has strong characterisation and makes its protagonists feel real and vivid and engaging, I can forgive a lot of other issues.

thank you for asking! 🤍

[rhetoricandlogic]

Yumi and The Nightmare Painter - Brandon Sanderson

So, the third Sanderson book. Book 1 was a dud, Book 2 was so-so. How would I find Book 3?

I found Book 3 VERY much an improvement and my favorite of the three books released so far. You thought the romance angle in Tress was good? Compare that book to this and you'll laugh. Brandon apparently was told by his wife that his books need more romance. And, as an author who doesn't really dabble in it - it DOES show. However, he is leaps and bounds better at it here than in Tress.

For people who liked Tress you might not like this. Since it is a different type of romance. Sanderson references a story he read in college about two passangers on a train who share he same room but at different times and they fall in love with one another without really spending time with on another. It's funny, it reminded me of the screenplay Betty Schaefer and Joe Gillis are writing about in Sunset Boulevard - two people who share the same room, sleep in the same bed during different times - he works nights, she works mornings, and they fall in love.

Brandon was also inspired by anime, manga, and Final Fantasy. Which clearly shows in this book. The setting of the world and the characters in it are poc inspired (Korean/Japanese/Chinese), there is reference to noodles / chopsticks, tabook, painting that has a non-western aspect, and other things here and there. But I felt that it was handled nicely - but non white readers can go into that more.

The plot is basically two people seemingly from different worlds are linked and must solve their issues by working together under duress. [ Body swap stories are a thing I've been picking up in Chinese and Korean dramas. They're usually done for humor aspect, but it always ends up with the characters learning to respect one another which leads to them falling in love. That was like this book, the character would get tired and the male became the female while her spirit / essence could be seen by the female and everyone who looked at the male saw the female character, except the female character who saw the male. The female became the male literally and it was explained that she was legit changing his body type every time it happened. (hide spoiler)]

While Hoid is the narrator of this book, I found him not as annoying. He popped up here and there and his storytelling was a lot more muted than it was in Tress. In Tress I felt that Brandon was trying to hard to emulate the Grandfather in The Princess Bride by giving him side commentary / witty remarks. The remarks weren't as plentiful and they didn't detract from the story, so I felt I was really reading the Hoid from the Cosmere novels. There is also the presence of another character who we met at one point in the Stormlight books but I won't spoil it. I had to smile when they showed up! There are also tiny references to the Stormlight books but it is not important to read them to get them, just little easter eggs.

The reason I rate it down a star is the friends / associates of Painter's. I felt them to be weak or didn't really add to the story. And the end when they were needed they were just THERE are a plot device and not much else. It could have used more depth. I could also say the romance could be a tad bit more blatant, but what I got - again - was better than Tress. The theme of the book were two people learning to love themselves before the learned to love others and appreciate who they were and what they could give. There was a lot of healing and good discussions / inner monologues regarding grief, hurt, rejection, purpose, and love.

I'm really excited on getting the physical kickstarter copy of the book due to the gorgeous art / pictures done. I loved them and felt they brought the book to life. And even better the artist was Aliya Chen - go check her work out if you haven't seen it yet. Aliya Chen. I sadly don't think that non kickstarter fans who didn't subscribe / put down cash will get them in the mass market paperback, but maybe they'll get her work on the cover?

To be honest, Brandon did say that this book and the last were two Cosmere heavy books and I believe that will be why I'll enjoy them more. But we shall see. All in all, I really enjoyed this book and I can't wait for my box to arrive!

[heyhihellowhatsup0]

Hooked On Your Feelings - Chapter Two (FWB! Tom Holland x Reader)

SERIES MASTERLIST

Warnings: Some angst, language, eventual smut in future chapters, fluff

Word Count: 5255

Summary: After a bad breakup, making an agreement with your womanizing neighbor, Tom to be friends with added benefits and no strings attached seemed like the perfect idea. Until things become messy, emotions caused your agreement to crumble.

A/N:  I am HYPE to post this new chapter! Omg I just love writing this series so much its so fun writing Tom like this lol. Also low key...this chapter has an easter egg to a pervious series of mine and I’m v curious if anyone catches it but probably not because its superrr tiny but either way I hope you guys like this one! Obviously, smut is in this chapter! DM me to be tagged and I cannot wait to hear everyone’s thoughts! (Also .gif is not mine. DM me for credit please, I found on google!) Thank you xx -N

“What happened to that girl you took home the other night from The Lace Rabbit?” Harrison asked as he ordered his lunch before he took a seat at the table with Tom. It was typical for them to meet up during the week on their lunch breaks and catch up when they were not busy being wingmen for the other while bar hopping on the weekends. 

Tom shrugged off Harrison’s question as he took a bite of his sandwich, “She got a little clingy so I had Y/N help me get rid of her,” he smiled as he said your name out loud. His friends knew of you as the hot girl who lived next door who bailed him out of sticky situations. Always teasing Tom how he could never actually get you. The irony made it all too funny for him, “How’d it go with that blonde girl?” he asked to change the subject off of him.

He didn’t know if he should bring up the two of you sleeping together with Harrison. Harrison was his best friend and wouldn’t judge but he knew he’d give Tom shit for it. He’d want to know details of your arrangement or how it came about, if you were really that good and Tom didn’t feel comfortable answering that. Not if it was about you. He didn’t want his other friends knowing about you in the way he did. That was personal between you both and he wanted to show you he respected you.

“It didn’t,” Harrison admitted while taking a sip of his water. He let out a chuckle as he felt himself blushing, “Forgot her name and she spilt her drink on me. Can’t say I didn’t deserve that one,” he at least knew when he was in the wrong.

Tom cringed into his sandwich as he let out a cackle, “You definitely deserved it, mate,” he laughed with another bite. His phone vibrated in his pocket but he chose to ignore it, knowing like clock work what it probably was. It was going to ruin the rest of his day and he at least wanted to enjoy lunch with his friend before getting pissed off for the day.

“She’d probably love you,” Harrison teased. 

“Fuck off,” Tom rolled his eyes with a laugh. “I’m not taking your angry seconds.”

“Don’t knock angry sex til you try it,” Harrison smirked knowingly. 

Tom shook his head as he once again ignored the phone ringing, “I think I’m good, thanks,” he brushed it off with another eyeroll. 

He didn’t know why he suddenly felt weird talking about their last venture out at the club. Maybe it was because Tom knew where he ended up after that girl had left and he knew what that meant for the both of you. But Tom wasn’t done with his bachelor days, and even you knew that. Hell, you practically insisted since this was a no strings attached deal.

It just felt strange not telling Harrison about you. Like it was a weird secret. But at the same time, he felt oddly protective of you. Not wanting his friends to see you as some girl he was getting laid with. Or worse, a potential love interest. He knew it wasn’t going to happen. Hell would be freezing over before Tom decided on any sort of long term obligation. But he knew his friends and he knew they wouldn’t see this is a simple agreement between two friends. And he didn’t want to deal with that conversation.

Staying quiet was the better option. For his own sanity. And...well, would you care if he told anyone about this? Tom figured that was another rule he’d have to ask about. He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries and he knew you had a list of rules as well that he was happy to follow. As long as that meant one thing and one thing only: non-exclusive.

Harrison noticed Tom’s phone buzzing for the third time. And Tom ignored it for the third time. He checked the message with a huff of his breath before turning the screen face down on the table, going back to his lunch before he had to get back to work.

“Clingy girl?” Harrison nodded towards Tom’s phone. 

Tom shook his head, “My mother was supposed to visit this weekend but you know the routine,” he mumbled into his food, not even wanting to respond to her.

“Let me guess,” Harrison began, knowing exactly where this was going since he knew Tom’s whole story inside and out. Including the bits he hated to discuss which was mainly his family, “Going skiing with Clint in Veil instead?” he questioned knowingly.

Tom scoffed out a laugh at his guess, “Surfing with Clint in Malibu but same shit,” he corrected as he tried not to let it get to him. But even Harrison could tell he was getting bothered by it once again and who could honestly blame him.

 Always the same story every time no matter what and Tom grew tired of her antics. He couldn’t even blame Clint for it anymore considering she’d been this way since he was a kid before he was even in the picture. Only now she would just use him as the perfect excuse to get out of coming to visit.

He knew he shouldn’t care anymore but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t something easy for him to simply let go of. It was his mother. And no matter how many times he’d try she would always give him back the bare minimum and it always made him upset. She was his one final connection to him and she could care less about any of it, so why did Tom? It always got under his skin and he loathed that it did.

But he would still invite her. No matter how miserable it made him.

“Well at least now you’re free this weekend,” Harrison broke his thought while he gathered their garbage before they headed back to work, “The usual at The Lace Rabbit this Saturday then?” he suggested with a knowing smile to try and get Tom out of his mood.

Grabbing his phone, Tom clutched it tightly as he inhaled sharply. Knowing his change of plans meant doing his normal routine even though he was looking forward to the slight change this weekend, which now just seemed bleak to him

.

“Yeah,” Tom agreed as he tapped your name on his phone but hesitated when he saw his mother trying to call for a fourth time, “The usual this weekend.”

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

Your chest tensed as you got into your car after your extremely long day in the office. Everything around you felt heavy and you couldn’t wait to get home as soon as you could but you found yourself still frozen in your car. Unable to move as the moments from earlier this afternoon invaded your thoughts once again while you tried your best to move in. Even though you knew you were completely grief stricken and didn’t know what the hell to do.

The promotion was yours, at least you had thought it was by the way your boss would constantly hint at it. You knew it was never a definite thing, but you were confident in the hard work you had put into your job and knew you were a top contender for the spot. You worked longer hours, took on extra tasks, you even worked on the occasional weekend to get your work done. Taking every precaution necessary to prove that you were the best fit for the role.

Everything felt like it was lining up for you. Co-workers were giving you a pat on the back for your work accomplishments, your boss was taking note of everything you were doing, and you overall felt really good about where you stood for the potential position. So imagine your surprise when you attended the big luncheon and your boss announced his undeserving son was getting the spot instead of you.

It was both nepotism and misogyny rolled into one and it made your stomach turn the longer you had thought about it. None of it made any sense and it was far from fair. You knew you were the one more deserving of the position, the whole office knew it. Even your damn boss knew but he chose his damn son over you and it felt like a stab right to your gut.

You felt so betrayed and beside yourself as you finally decided to head home. Tears streamed down your cheeks while you tried to focus on the road but you just couldn’t ignore the facts. How were you going to be able to show up and take orders now from your boss’ son? You knew the job more than he did and it felt like a huge screw you.

On your drive home, you tried to make yourself feel better by putting on some music to distract yourself but nothing helped. You felt beyond defeated and frustrated right now you didn’t know what was going to make you feel better at the moment. It felt like the world was against you. Between finding Justin with another woman and your job, you were really batting one thousand lately and you weren’t sure when you would catch a break.

Things were not going how you planned at all. The thought of just quitting your job and starting all over again crossed your mind but the fear of the unknown kept haunting you. You didn’t know which direction to go in or who to turn to for advice anymore. You were slowly drowning and you needed someone to throw you a goddamn life jacket already.

You were relieved to finally be home. Maybe some peace and quiet would make you feel a little better, you thought to yourself while you kicked your shoes off and turned some music on for yourself. Trying to put the day behind you and focus on the present moment while you got changed into more comfortable clothes to unwind.

You jumped out of your skin when you heard a knock at your door, not expecting anybody to come by right now. Pulling your hair up into a bun, you headed back towards the door and looked through the peephole. To your surprise, you weren’t really surprised at all. You were actually sort of relieved when you opened the door and saw Tom standing there holding a pizza box.

“That better have extra cheese,” you asked with a narrowed expression while you invited him inside with the pizza that he would always bring you even in normal times. 

Placing the box on the kitchen table, Tom opened it with a grin as he showed you the pizza pie with cheese practically oozing from the crusts, “Figured it was an extra toppings sort of day,” he admitted, knowing he really needed the escape from reality. Even if it was just a pizza.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed as you grabbed a piece closest to you as Tom handed you a paper plate. You headed over towards your refrigerator to grab you both a few beers while Tom leaned up against your kitchen counter as he devoured his slice, “I’m guessing you had a bad day judging by your pizza presentation?” knowing there wasn’t really any particular reason he’d be coming over with it today. Unless if he wanted something?

You slowed your pace back from the fridge wondering if he was going to pick up on how you were feeling. You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted him to notice. Whenever you and Tom had a pizza night it was merely to gossip about your lunatic neighbors or watch a game together. You talked about casual things but never really gone into depth or prying into each other’s lives. Why did it feel like suddenly you wanted something different? Would sex change that much in your friendship?

“We can just ignore that...we don’t have to talk about unimportant stuff,” you waved it off. Tom didn’t need to hear about your miserable day. And you didn’t want to pry into his. 

He swallowed the last bite of his slice, “If something makes you upset, it’s not unimportant,” he noted. But when he noticed you just looking at him, he raised his hands in surrender. “Ignore my philosophical ass. But I’d like to hear about your day, you know,” he laughed it off. 

What the hell was he doing? He thought to himself. Don’t let personal shit ruin this. Enjoy her company. That’s it. 

“I didn’t get the promotion,” you told him. You had mentioned to Tom a while ago that your boss was hinting at it but you never went into detail with him about it. You weren’t used to Tom actually wanting to be open or the other way around. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly surprised Tom even gave a crap about stuff like this. 

Tom frowned at your answer and he felt his heart sink a bit when you told him the truth about your bad day. He didn’t know much about your job but he was sure you were a hard worker. He saw how much you loved your job and how passionate you were about it when it would come up. You would share upcoming projects with him from time to time and he would see the look on your face whenever you explained them to him. So hearing that you were passed by for a promotion was upsetting to him.

“I...shit, Y/N,” he put his pizza down as he walked over towards to give you a hug. Sliding his hands around your waist he pulled you into him as he felt you relax against his chest, “You didn’t deserve that,” he added softly.

You allowed Tom to embrace you, his warmness comforting you a bit before you pulled away and started crying when telling him about your boss’ son getting the job instead of you. Making you laugh by calling him every name in the book, you and Tom finally found a common ground as you kept venting to him.

Tom pulled away slowly, his hand resting at your chin while he licked his lips, “You’re boss sounds like a fucking prick, I hope you know that,” he told you reassuringly. The small smile you formed when he spoke made him want to keep making you feel better, “I’m glad you’re smiling,” he blushed at his confession.

Stretching your mouth wider, you flashed Tom a playful yet overly wide grin to deflect the attention he gave to you. The two of you laughed as Tom pulled away with a loud chuckle, shaking his head at your sudden silliness, “That has to be the most hideous smile. But we’ll work on it,” he told you through his laughter.

You rolled your eyes before going back to your pizza, giving Tom a look as you nudged him, “Not gonna tell me about what happened to you?” you finally asked.

Tom tensed as he tried to brush it off with a simple shrug into his pizza. The thought of his mother’s texts and ridiculous apologies and excuses continued to drive him crazy as he mumbled into his bite, “It’s stupid shit,” he told you as he swallowed the crust he was chewing, “Mom stuff, not important,” he added bluntly.

You could see the look on his face and could tell it was important to him but you didn’t want to force him to talk about it. Tom was never one to bring up his family ever to you and that was the first time you had ever heard him even mention his mother. He never spoke of his father, at least to you, so you just assumed both were out of his life for whatever reason and it was none of your business to ask.

 And Tom refused to admit it but he wanted you to ask about him. Spending hours upon hours at bars, turning his focus always onto the girl; because he knew no girl would ever want to go home with a self righteous, egotistical guy. It was never something Tom minded to do, especially with complete strangers who he would never open up to in a million years. It might have been the recent development he had with you but there was something refreshing he felt around you and as much as it freaked him out, he didn’t seem to mind.

But diving into his mommy issues with you now seemed too much to deal with right now. You were dealing with more than enough problems with your job and your miserable ex-boyfriend, he figured you didn’t need to hear his bitching right now anyway. He came here to get away from those shitty thoughts, not open those wounds further. 

Tom came here for a distraction.

Licking his lips, Tom perked up as he looked at you fervidly, “Wanna have sex?” he asked matter of factly. He figured he didn’t need to beat around the bush since you had your arrangement but maybe he was a bit too direct with his request. Tom cleared his throat as he tried to save the night, “I-I mean, I just figured since we both had shitty days that maybe we could uhm-”

“Thought you’d never ask,” you cut him off with a smirk and you perked up as well, nodding as you smoothed out your hair. Standing back up as you turned your back towards him, removing your shirt in the process, “Let’s go,” you called over your shoulder as you headed towards your room.

“Oh, we’re jumping right in,” Tom mumbled to himself as he practically fell off his chair to follow you into your room, tossing his shirt beside yours as he practically froze already seeing you completely undressed, “Christ…” he breathed out while taking you in. 

You rolled your eyes as you walked over to him, bringing your lips to his now bare shoulder, “You’re really acting like you haven’t seen me like this the other day?” You laughed against his skin while you began to suck a bruise against him, hearing him let out a gasp while your hand snaked into his pants sneakily, “Beginning to really like this whole friends with benefits thing we have,” you laughed as you found Tom’s lips.

Practically growling into your kiss, Tom lifted you up and lowered you onto your back on your bed. His lips traveled from yours, to your stomach, dipping his tongue into your belly button as you moaned quietly before he brought himself down between your thighs. His lips peppering your inner thigh before he got straight to the point because this whole arrangement meant no foreplay. Another plus for Tom.

“Darling, I think you may be the best friend I’ve ever had,” Tom breathed out a laugh as he pressed his tongue flatly against your clit. Sliding two of his fingers into your core while he slowly pumped in and out of you, “This is what got me through my day today,” he told you before he brought his mouth back to your core.

You arched your back while your fingers went towards Tom’s curls. His name began to fall from your lips while he lapped his tongue carefully, letting it slip inside of you as he continued to tease you with his mouth. His fingers sliding into you again, adding a third as he moaned against your center; allowing the vibrations to roll throughout your entire body.

“Mmm, oh, fuck...!” you cried out, yanking gently against Tom’s hair as you felt the coil beginning to burn from inside of you. Biting your lip to stifle another moan, “Fuck...yo-you’re really good at that,” you breathed out with a small laugh which turned into a whimper.

With his head peering up at you, Tom flashed you a cocky smile with a playful wink as he licked your folds teasingly, “Did you seriously doubt my abilities to make you cum with my mouth, Y/N?” he raised his eyebrow while pumping his fingers now tantalizingly slow, “You’re gonna pay for that comment,” he said to you.

“Just...shut up and make me cum, Tom,” you told him through another gasp as you felt his teeth drag teasingly against your already throbbing bud. His lips wrapped around it as he sucked more harshly, doing exactly as you had asked him to do, “Ungh...oh god, okay. Yeah, keep doing that,” you instructed as you began to grind your hips against his mouth.

Tom took it as a challenge and picked up his pace, beginning to flick your clit faster while he continuously sucked on it. His three fingers now entirely coated in your warmth as he felt you clenching around them. His pants feeling tighter from his hard on while he knelt at the end of your bed trying to bring you to where he wanted.

His free hand splayed against your stomach, holding you in place while he felt you trying to squirm around from the way he was making you feel. Rubbing your clit in between his breaths, Tom looked up at you as he licked a solid stripe down your center, “Let out how you’re feeling from today and cum for me, Y/N,” Tom commanded. 

Your eyes shut as you did exactly what Tom had suggested. Completely coming undone from beneath him while you released as much of the tension from earlier as you possibly could but in the most amazing way. Your eyes rolled back into your head while your back arched as Tom’s tongue continued to work you up while you were at your highest point.

Letting out a breathy laugh as you started to come down from it, feeling Tom begin to kiss his way back up your stomach with a smug look, “Don’t give me that look,” you rolled your eyes at his cockiness as his tongue traced along your neck, “I could do what you just did to myself, you know,” you tried to knock him off his high horse a bit while he pretended to be wounded from your words.

“Ah, but you didn’t. Did you?” Tom reminded you as his lips found yours. His hands still in between your thighs as he brought them between you both, showing you his coated fingers while he tasted you off of them, “Tastes like I made you cum because you wanted me to,” his smugness only elevated as he pushed himself off of you as he laid on his back on your bed.

“Need I remind you that you came to my place like a porno with a pizza looking to get laid,” you retaliated as you shifted so you were now hovering over him. Your hands guiding towards his belt buckle to get him out of his restraintive pants. The pleading look on his face made you just as smug, “Sounds like you want me to do just about the same thing, am I right or am I right?” you sang in his ear.

Tom helped you get the rest of his pants and boxers off, feeling himself spring out as he stared back at you with uncertainty, “Did you...just call me a porn star?” he questioned as the two of you let out a laugh.

“You wish, Tommy,” you teased as you ran your tongue down his abs, placing small and open kisses against his stomach as you made your way down to his legs while your hand carefully gripped his hardened length, your thumb running the pre-cum around his tip while you already heard him gasping for you.

Gripping your bedsheets with one hand, Tom reached around to create a makeshift ponytail to hold your hair. Cussing under his breath as he watched your mouth wrap around his tip, swirling your tongue around it while your eyes searched for his. He was really trying to hold it together but you were already driving him crazy.

“Let’s see what you got, Y/N,” Tom challenged you with a heavy breath as he tightened his grip around your hair, “Sometimes, girls think they know exactly what to do but-OH FUCK!” 

His words were lost as soon as your mouth went straight down to his base. Suctioning as hard as you could before coming back up his cock painfully slow. Moaning your name as his chest began to heave, Tom felt his thighs start to quiver from under you. Even just watching the way you were working on him was enough to make him whimper right now.

“Fuck...okay, yeah I take that back,” Tom gasped as his nose crinkled up while his other hand white knuckled the sheets, “God, your mouth is fucking perfect. Why haven’t we done any of this shit before?” he was in such a fucked out haze, he wasn’t even sure if anything he was saying made any sense at all. But he felt his stress from earlier going away finally. Even if this was just a short state of bliss, he was grateful for it anyway.

“You really want me to answer that or would you just prefer me to keep sucking your dick?” you sassed while you kitten licked his tip. You watched from the end of the bed as Tom bucked his hips into your mouth to try and get more contact from your lips but you pulled away from him and just kept licking his tip.

God, you were good, Tom thought to himself.

‘K-keep going,” Tom finally breathed out, flinging his head against the pillow to brace for the impact.

Hollowing your cheeks, you pushed yourself all the way down his cock. Your tongue flicking the base in between as you began to feel him throb inside of your mouth. You could tell he was close so you moaned softly into his cock, watching as Tom shuddered from the sensation you just sent through him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tom cried out, moaning your name as he rutted his hips into your mouth. His pupils blacked as he felt the heat rising in his body, “Shit...I’m gonna cum, Y/N,” he warned as you pulled away, running your hand down his shaft as he began to come undone for you.

His warmth spilled out into your hand and down his cock while he let go finally. The stress somewhat leaving his body as it did yours while the euphoric high peaked for him. Your lips crashed against his while his tongue parted your lips to find yours, tangling them together as he moaned against your mouth while riding out his high finally.

You waited for Tom to catch his breath before you smiled against his lips, placing a small peck against them as you pulled away with an even bigger grin, “Yeah, you’re welcome,” you gave him the same arrogant tone he gave to you moments earlier before you pecked his lips again.

After taking some time to get yourselves together mixed with the continuous fooling around underneath the sheets, you and Tom finally decided to get up and end the night. Even though he didn’t want to leave, he knew he probably shouldn’t overstay. Primarily, Tom was adamant about never spending the night at a girl’s place that he slept with. That made things complicated and he didn’t want complicated. But since you and him had rules to not make things messy, he wasn’t sure if that applied to you. For now, he wanted to play it safe so he got himself dressed again.

You pulled on an oversized t-shirt, realizing both of your hair looked a mess. Luckily you were already home and Tom was down the hall so it didn’t really matter. You wanted to say something to Tom, that you were thankful he came by tonight. You were thankful even before sex was on the table. It felt nice to have him as an ally to swing by with a pizza when he didn’t even know you needed that.

“...is it weird to say I’m glad you came by?” you gestured towards your bedroom while you walked with him out into the kitchen where the half eaten pizza was left, “I know we haven’t really made too many rules about it but…” you trailed off with a nervous laugh as you smiled at him awkwardly.

“Like we said, zero weirdness,” Tom reminded you as he padded his way over to you. He grabbed a leftover crust from the box and shoved it in his mouth, clearly starving already from the workout you had just given him. He smiled while he chewed lazily, his mouth still filled with pizza crumbs, “But I’m happy to come by when we have shit days...and make you cum as well,” he smirked deviously. 

The door opened as you smiled back, “Doesn’t have to be just bad days, you know. We could...screw whenever we feel like it,” you told him, hoping that it wasn’t too much.

“Did you just say screw?” he whipped his head towards you with a loud laugh.

“Alright then, I guess I’ll just leave you to the girls who leave you unsatisfied then,” you fought back.

Tom leaned against the door with his mouth gaped open, “They do not...leave me...unsatisfied?” he questioned himself, knowing that that was true, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Then why are you here?” you placed a hand on your hip, feeling the smile pulling at your lips while you messed around with him. You certainly weren’t in this mood earlier before Tom came around.

Pressing his lips together, Tom rolled his eye at you, “Fine...we can screw...whenever,” he leaned in closer to you with his eyes big as he mimicked your voice when you said it, “As long as we keep this thing strictly what we intended, you can use me whenever you need, Y/N,” and he meant it.

You didn’t back away when he sealed his words with a soft kiss, paired with his trademark grin. Tom pulled away slowly, taking in the moment as he wished you a goodnight quietly before kissing you against the cheek, “Like I said, best friend I ever had,” he said softly once again.

“Am I interrupting something?” A voice broke from behind the two of you. Both of your eyes widened towards each other as you both simultaneously pivoted your heads towards the staircase where the voice was coming from.

Tom closed his eyes with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore Harrison staring at the two of you with a crooked grin. Making it known to Tom that explaining this was going to be a lot tougher than he had imagined.

Taglist: @osterfield-holland-andcompany @giuls-394 @missmulti @hazmyheart @lauras-collection @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @detroitbydark @mcuassemble @blahhhhhhhaaa @lonikje @beiroviski @ruefulposts @desir-ae @kayla-m1996 @unicorn-princess-1999 @asmilinghopelessromantic @itsjusttor @whatareyouhidingpeter @when-marvellous-things-happen @mannien @lilostif16 @u-rrose @ninjalex1d  @baby-unidorn @astoldbydanid @honey-sea @fallingforfics @lulueliott24 @mikalakat @babebenhardy @coni-martina @captainemrys @mktravelbuggie @underoosmarvel @pluckypete @hollandfanficlove @lookalivefrosty @lightmelikeacigarette @msmarvel-19  @u-rrose @parker-holland-osterfield @thwip-it-real-good @shirukitsune @justanotherusername80 @dangerdolns @jwolfesblog @jjayyc  @ifilosemyselfagain @axisnpalma @londonspidey @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @bookgirlunicorn @kfcyum @thenoddingbunny-blog @buzzbuzzitsmeagainbitch @herondale-snow-carstairs @marvelobsessedteenager @unlimitedd @dramaholic18 @softholand @panicattheeverywherekid @emotionally-unstable23 @quackeroos @unbelievableholland  @holyhumorliteraturelight  @spideyyeet @katiekinzs  @fanficparker @ifntelyinspirit @rubberducky-jrr @xguardgirlx   @selfcarecap @localfangirlx @xxpeachyxo @hazardosterfield @xstarbae @justanotherusername80  @photoshopart15 @spiderbibby @the-fandom-life-forever @jannine00742 @spideysimpossiblegirl @parachutepantswedgie-blog @decadentwastelandtrash @anythingthaticareabout @outshineallthestars @captainamirica @thehauntingofmymind @watermelonsponge @sinisterspidey @adayasgeorgia @obliviatevamps @damnrancidchicken @lolooo22 @cocoamoonmalfoy @spideyspeaches @hollandprkr @peachitofu @quacksonholland @itscaminow @ohtobelovedbyyou @diffind0 @tomhollandsslut @chipot-lol s @marvelouspouges @agustdowney @305weasley @youvebeenlizzed   @spidey-sophie​ @azaraspirit​

[steelycunt]

Oh god, young mungo.

Firstly, I checked it out of my local library for ✨free✨ so that was nice, you should deff look into doing that because yes, it’s so expensive.

The author is Scottish and wrote all the dialogue in a Glaswegian dialect and my puny American brain was going “😵‍💫 what are they saying” lol but I got the hang of it quickly. I like his writing style, I haven’t read his first book Shuggie Bain but I hear lots of good things about it.

But Mungo as a character is like so precious and so innocent and I just want to protect him from everyone and everything. It’s truly just hard to see him kinda lose some of that and toughen up- but like he needs that living where he’s living to protect himself.

I would check the trigger warnings too before reading because I went into it blind basically, not knowing anything and there’s a r*pe scene and it’s pretty jarring, especially if you’re not expecting it ya know? But I hope that doesn’t put you off lol

Also, I think in one of your fics Remus is reading Giovanni’s Room and I’d never heard of that book, but I’ve checked it out now so thanks for the rec lol I’m excited to read

ahh hi hello!! i'm so pleased you liked it, i'm really looking forward to reading it myself :-) and also the fact that it was in your local library!! i might have to go and have a look in mine...mine's really tiny so usually i rely on it for things like classics mostly but i'll have to have a look :-) i am an absolute hardcover HATER to be honest, even without the fact that they're double the price they just do not have the charm of paperbacks they'll never have the charm of paperbacks :-/ also thank you for the heads up on trigger warnings btw! i'd heard its a bit hard going at times but i didn't know anything more specific than that, so i will probably check those first.

i hope you like giovanni's room omg!! let me know what you think!! essentially in that scene i decided he was going to be reading a book. and then i decided he was going to be reading the book i was reading as a little treat to myself because why not, and actually i think gr ended up being a surprisingly fitting pick xx same with any albums or songs that ever turn up in my stuff...every time i get to mention something like that i spend sooo long deciding which of MY favourite albums i'm going to give a little shoutout to (provided they aren't anachronisms in whichever year i'm setting it) xx little easter egg for myself xx

[the-bee-graveyard]

hiii rory

have some tasty fanfic asks:

any new fics to start next year

events you participated in this year

a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

a fic you didn’t expect to write

most popular fic this year

favorite line/scene you wrote this year

Next year I would like to continue my Brendresa fic Why Does Everybody Love You? Because I’m sad that it’s on hiatus even though I’m the person who put it on hiatus. I’ve also got a long list of things to write, including Newtmas, Byler, Kitty, a few might come out by the end of the year but I can’t promise anything.

I haven’t participated in many actual events, but I have done a few prompts for Jerejean Week 2021. I hope next year to do a few more, but I’ve had sort of a rough year so I’ve just been doing what I can.

Anything by @thechangeling. They characterize all the characters so well and I love their writing style and their OC’s are just perfect.

You Can Think That You’re In Love When You’re Really Just In Pain. I honestly did not expect to ever be writing anything Stranger Things, then I wrote a Byler fic in the middle of the night and this was said byler fic.

You’re Not Him and honestly it’s one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written so I can see why.

“Jeremy doused Jean's heart in gasoline, but tonight, tonight he set it on fire.” From And That’s Not Fake because it’s a tiny little Easter egg no ones picked up on yet and I love it.

[pbandjesse]

So I'm writing this from a hospital bed! First time I've ever said that before. I am waiting to get a rabies shot. Cool cool cool. I am mostly terrified but using humor to cope with it. 

Today was a sleepy and lazy day. I had a horrible time waking up. But I forced myself out of bed at 10. I had a tiny breakfast. And got to work on putting things away in my studio. I was to hot but I was pretty productive. 

I played a little Stardew valley. And played with Sweetp. But I wanted to do more art. 

I would catch up on all my knitting and finally get to start working on the layouts for the Aesop's book. 

James brought me the prints yesterday and I spent some time cutting them down and setting up the pages. I would get four prints done towards the end of the afternoon. But it took a surpringly long time to piece everything together and I didn't want to rush because I was tired. So instead I just took breaks. 

I would lay around. Eat a leftover taco. Try to wake up. But I couldn't. I just felt so tired and it was hard to do much of anything at all. 

It really was just to hot and I was still dealing with my feelings from last night. Sleep did help. But I was emotionally tired. 

James would come home while I was finishing the printing I was doing.  They brought me donuts and I was just happy to have them home. 

We spent the afternoon chilling. We ordered Indian food and it was a little spicier then I wanted but was still very good.  

Eventually I went to lay down. James would make rice pudding that was very good. And I took a bath and used my new hair oil and things were good. 

I was a little restless but that was okay. James would come in our room when their mom called and said there was a stray cat lose in their house. And wanted James to come home. 

I offered to come too. I'm good at catching animals. I'd done this before. So we both got back into clothes from our pajamas and headed to the fulwiler house. 

Honesyly at first things were fine. Cat was under the bed. I got it by the neck and pulled it out no problem. But James wasn't ready with the towel and I lost grip and it went south from there. 

In grabbing it a second time under the dresser it got me three times. On both hands. And the one hurt very very bad and made a sound. I had put a sweatshirt on at this point to protect from scratching but I wasn't ready for such strong bites. 

But I got it and James wrapped.it up and ran it outside. 

My hands had blood on them and I felt a little bit in a daze. I went to the kitchen to wash them off and no one seemed to get how much pain I was in. I was very worried. My brain went to rabies. To infections. This was a deep puncture. 

I ran my hands under cool water. And James got the first aid kit and cleaned me up and bandages but I was still shaken up. 

We said goodbye, they thanked us. And we headed out. But I was freaking out a bit. I was googling what to do and everything said if it's a stray to go to the er. 

I am still unsure if I have insurance. The whole thing got messed up and so I was panicking about that. But I also was very worried about rabies. 

So we went to the ER. And thankfully didn't have to wait to long. And this hospital is apparently known for their hand unit?? Wild. Everyone was very nice and I only cried a little because I was scared. 

I got an x-ray. And got to see my bones which was neat. I got two very burnt shots in my legs and one in my left arm. Then I had to soak my hands in iodine and saline for a half hour which made me feel like an Easter egg. 

Me and James were mostly joking because I don't know how else to deal with fear. But I was, and am, scared. The x-ray was scary. The bending and prodding of my very swollen fingers was scary. The needles were scary. 

But we handled it. And there was some waiting. But we were there less then 3 hours total. We are both tired and stressed. I don't know what happens with work tomorrow. I texted Alexi. I think I'll still make it for my afternoon programs. But I have to go figure out a prescription in the morning. Which is very scary for me. I don't even want to think about how much everything is going to cost. I just feel so dumb. And I'm hurting. 

We just got discharged and we're almost home. I'm going to ice my on hand and go to sleep. I hope the swelling goes down because my right hand feels so bad right now.  

I hope tomorrow is better. This last week has been a lot of my shoulders and now this. Sucks. 

Goodnight everyone. 

[skimblyshanks]

♡ for tuggcetera 👉👈

SEND ME ♡ + A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU…

Who is the most affectionate?

hmmmm...starting with a hard one 😂😂 I think...Etcetera gets in her own head about making the move for affection, so, in practice, it's Tugger.

Who initiates the handholding?

Ok so I know I just said Etcetera is the one who gets in her own head more BUT that's not with handholding it's with like. Hugs and kisses and nuzzles and things. With handholding it's absolutely Etcetera.

Who worries more for the other?

Uhhhh Tugger. He worries abt Cettie like. Safety-wise, bc trained or otherwise she is tiny and protectoring is dangerous, but also my repeated thing about Cettie getting into her own head? He worries about that too. Also I think even with Etcetera's view and understanding of Tugger maturing with time, she still has him on a little bit of a pedestal, so like. She doesn't feel like there's a reason to worry for Tugger.

Who is more likely to ask for help?

I promise I'm not trying to just answer in alternating order but Etcetera ailsdufhaisdf She's a Protector, and she takes that seriously and wants to do her job well. Doing that job well means accepting when she needs help.

Who is the one always losing the keys?

Both of them. All the time. They have to start wearing their keys on collar rings if they want to get back inside after a long day's work.

Who leaves little love notes for the other?

Etcetera will write little notes in her down time to have something to do. She will then scatter them like Easter eggs

Who can’t sleep unless the other is there?

Etcetera! She will get up, out of bed, and back in repeatedly for hours without Tugger effectively holding her in place with his arm.

Who is more likely to propose to the other?

mmm....Tugger would be most likely to do it bc 1.) see the reason about him being more affectionate, and 2.) This is already working with the thought that cats would value marriage and its symbols so i will go out on a limb and say Tugger proposing to Etcetera would mean so much to her like come on this would 100% be one of those dreams-come-true that you always thought would just be a fantasy.

Who introduced the other to their family first?

I think Introducing to the family would, again, be something more for Etcetera, so, Etcetera! It was definitely just a formality though; I don't think you could miss these two being together 😂

Who is more likely to play with the other’s hair?

mmboth, but, Etcetera does it more often

Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated?

Tuggerrr

Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other?

Yes 🥰

Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other?

Etcetera tries. Goodness she tries, but she almost always ends up giving it away.

Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things?

Tugger; it usually coincides with having Etcetera also pinky promise to eat and stay hydrated

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch?

Tugger 🥺

[yourfinalbow]

Ack anon I'm sorry. Tumblr ate your ask and I'm 🔪 But I saved your ask to put on the Google Doc so don't fret! I have it!

“Hi Ghastie Ghast, I wanted to share a prompt with you lol. I decided to go more holiday theme’d because it’s never too early to get into the holiday spirit.

“Your favorite winter drink was back on the menu, so I decided to surprise you with it.”

Please enjoy this prompt lmao”

The nickname made me -_- but hi Little Gray Circle Dude With Sunglasses! Thank you for sending me this! I had fun writing it. I'm assuming you wanted a Destiel fic, so that's what I wrote! (Also bonus points for Saileen as a background ship?) I sort of strayed a little from the prompt and the tone gets heavier as it goes on… 👀 I also accidentally wrote more than intended, so you can read it on Ao3 if that's easier. (And maybe give it a kudos because you’re the best?)

Title: Black Coffee Derangement Syndrome

Ship(s): Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy.

(Basic) Tags: Fluff, Slight Angst, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker, Established Dean/Cas, Established Sam/Eileen, Using black coffee as a metaphor for hypermasculinity, With a whip cream style topping of internalized homophobia. *Finger guns.*

Warnings: Coffee gatekeeping and small sections of fluff that are as sweet as Cas’s Starbucks order. Also I’ve been to Starbucks once. Maybe twice? (Also a single mention of a drug that's commonly found as white powder, the non-descriptive comparison of Sam’s stupid health stuff with emesis, and use of the name that the figurehead for Germany in WW2 bore, just to be safe.)

Rating: T? Maybe? For language?

Word Count: 9k+

Quick thanks to my awesome beta @walksinstarllight! They are a poet and a writing sorcerer (wizard without a hat), and the only reason this fic even makes sense so please go shower them in kudos. (You can find their work here.)

Another thanks to @internetintroverts, who described a peppermint mocha to me in like 300 words because I drink black coffee and know nothing of anything ever. You can find their work here! (There's an Easter egg of one of their fics in this one hehe.)

The first thing Dean did when Cas got back from the Empty was give him coffee.

Okay no.

The first thing he did was fall into Cas’s arms and grip that stupid trenchcoat until his knuckles turned white. Shaking and laughing with hot tears streaming out of his eyes, he told him he was an asshole for leaving him like that. And to never, ever do it again. With blurry eyes and all other thoughts hazy, he told Cas he could have it, he could have what he wanted. Whatever he wanted. He told Cas he loved him too.

But then the next thing was coffee.

Caffeine is a hunter’s number one best friend, and since Cas was human again, Dean knew Sam was going to come at him with his stupid green health drinks and herbal tea. As Cas’s knight in shining armour, (a title used by Dean and Dean only), it was his duty to protect him from the disgustingly liquified rabbit food.

Now he expected Cas to like black coffee, you know, like a normal person.

But no, oh no. Apparently, he was dating a heathen.

Dean had to actually rub his eyes the first time he watched Cas fix his own coffee. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, mouth agape.

Cas was leaning on the counter, humming some song that Dean could neither recognize, nor would he approve of, thank-you-very-much.

(Ok it was Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift and it's entirely possible he's listened to it once or twice but he still doesn't approve of it, thank-you-very-much.)

He held his yellow and black striped, bee-themed ceramic mug Eileen had bought him in one hand, and the entire five-pound bag of cane sugar in the other. And there he stood, happy as can be, pouring it directly into his mug.

Dean rubbed his eyes again.

And not even like, a normal amount either.

He just kept pouring, and pouring, and Oh my god he’s still pouring. Dean thought. It would honestly be more believable if it wasn’t sugar at all, and instead was in fact Cas’s secret stash of cocaine.

Dean might actually have to put sugar on the grocery list after he was finished.

His thoughts traveled back to Ishim doing the same thing with his coffee, in the tiny little diner Cas had set up as a meeting place. Dean had barged in that day, not thinking of his brother mocking him, or the possibility of danger inside. His vision was as tunneled as his thoughts  focused only on Cas, not caring about anything else.

By that time the following day, Dean thought they were both going to die. The bloody and uneven sigil on the wall, Cas no more than ten feet away. Not quite within a comforting reach. The room was spinning from the blow to his head, and he could barely make out the words being spat from Ishim’s mouth.

“You blast me away, you’ll blast away every angel in the room. I’ll survive. Castiel, on the other hand, he’s hurt. He might live, or he might just end up a bloody smear on the wall.”

He almost lost Cas that day.

The blood rushed to his ears as his instincts sought out the mark on the wall. Ishim had told him to roll the dice, but in his head he couldn’t look past the chance of rolling a one. Watching the acrylic cube bounce until it decided Cas’s fate. There was no dilemma, there wasn’t even a decision to be made. He would always choose Cas over himself. Silent acts of care he could never vocalize.

An inability to speak formed from fear and cowardice. Like a lion in his stomach scratching at the words until they fell back down his throat.

And it was that inability to speak that led Cas to think he was nothing more than a tool for the Winchester’s to use.

He almost let Cas believe he meant nothing to him.

Dean cleared his throat. “Mornin’ Sunshine.”

Cas set down the bag of sugar and picked up the pot, the glass making a small clink as it hit the top of the coffee maker. “Goodmorning Dean. Would you like any coffee?” He greeted cheerfully, turning around like he hadn't just put enough sugar to make a pound cake in his coffee.

“Uh.” Dean was still caught off-guard by Willie Wonka over there. “Sure Cas.” He took the coffee pot from his hand and muttered a thank you.

“So,” Cas started while Dean reached into the cabinet for his own mug. “What ingredient do you suggest I put in my coffee this morning?”

“Uh...I don't know man. I drink my coffee black.”

“Yes I know you’re boring Dean, but you can still help me not be.”

“Black coffee isn't boring it's-”

“Dean, if you say ‘manly,’ I will sit you down and make you eat only spinach and kale for a week.” Sam said, walking into the kitchen, hair still spiked up from sleep. He used one hand to sign the words, his other one occupied by Eileen, who was sleepily shuffling closely behind.

Dean looked aghast. “I would starve.” He attempted to sign his indignant response, hands moving sloppily while holding both his mug and the coffee pot.

“I think that's the point.” Eileen said, laughing. She looked at Cas. “Is Dean gatekeeping your coffee aspirations again?”

“Yes.” He answered, ignoring Sam’s laugh and Dean’s huff of exaggerated outrage.

“Have you tried cinnamon?” Sam suggested. “You like Dean’s apple pie, and that has cinnamon in it.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Sam. Dean told me not to ever take cooking advice from you.“

“And I stand by that.” Dean interjected suddenly.

“I can cook!”

“Ehhh…” Eileen’s comment bought her a look of betrayal. “Though Sam may be right on this one, you might like it.” She shrugged.

“See.”

Cas pondered the thought for a moment. “Perhaps I will then.”

“Do we have nutmeg?” Eileen said, breaking away from Sam’s grip to check one of the cabinets. He walked to the other side of the kitchen, intending to look through the spice rack, knowing exactly what his girlfriend was getting at.

“You better not mess up my damn kitchen.” He said quickly. “Or you're organising them all next time.”

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing full well Dean would never let him organise the kitchen. Eileen looked through them, carefully turning the bottles around until the labels faced her. She pulled out the cinnamon and clove while she was looking for the nutmeg.

“Found it.” Sam called from the other side of the kitchen, walking over and putting a hand on Eileen’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” She said with a smile, grabbing the plastic spice jars.

She individually tossed each one to Cas. “Use these, it will taste like a pumpkin spice latte.”

“And don't forget the milk.” Sam added.

Cas scrambled to catch the spices, successfully grabbing two of them out of the air, the third one intercepted by Dean.

“What’s a pumpkin spice latte?” He looked at Eileen before snatching the bottle of cinnamon from Dean.

“It's a famous drink you can get at Starbucks.” Sam answered.

Cas tilted his head to the side and squinted at him. “What's a Starbucks?”

“You know, the coffee shop Alex and Patience drag Jody to all the time.” Dean said.

“I’m pretty sure Donna drags her there too.” Sam added. “Something about girl’s date night out.”

“The one Claire says is for ‘basic bitches’?” He lifted his hands, forming air quotes as he spoke.

“Yeah.” Dean answered, quietly laughing. “That's the one. She’s probably right, too.”

Cas carefully put the different spices in his coffee, eyeing the mug warily. His light brown coffee now had specs of...stuff in it.

(And unbeknownst to him, there was also a small pile of sugar at the bottom, the coffee so saturated it wouldn't dissolve any more.)

Eileen laughed at the look on his face. “It's good, I promise.”

Sam turned to look at her. “How would you know? Most of the time you get hot chocolate and spike it with bourbon.”

“You’re the one who gets a Pink Drink.”

Dean choked on his coffee. “What?”

“It's strawberry and coconut milk, and it's delicious.”

“Sure it is Sam.” Eileen jabbed.

“So what I'm getting here is that not only have you two been to Starbucks often enough to have a regular order, but Sam gets something called a ‘Pink Drink’?”

“No…” Sam started, trying to find a way to defend them. “Sometimes we…”

“...Make our own drinks.” Eileen snapped her fingers as she finished for him, attempting to save them from the endless stream of good-natured insults Dean would throw at them otherwise.

“Well you two are a real Martha Stewart, aren't you?”

“Yeah, except she's a convicted criminal.” Sam attempted to snark back.

“So are you!”

Before either of them could respond, Cas shoved his mug into Dean's face. “You have to try this, Dean. It tastes like pumpkin pie.”

Dean carefully grabbed the hot mug from Cas and took a sip. He was right, it did taste kinda like pumpkin pie. He took another sip, letting the pleasant flavor sit on his tongue. The different spices mixed perfectly together.

“I mean it's… okay.” He lied.

Dean contemplated his pumpkin themed food options. “Though I would rather just have pumpkin pie.”

Cas took his mug back. “Fine. More for me.” He said with a smirk, mimicking the look Dean gives him every time Cas says he doesn't want anymore bacon, before taking another sip of the makeshift pumpkin spice coffee.

Dean smiled at him, setting his own mug down and moving Cas’s out of the way to pull him into a kiss. He could smell the nutmeg almost as much as he could taste the cinnamon on his lips.

“Mmm we should bake pumpkin pie tonight.” He said, pulling away just enough so he could talk.

“I would like that.” Cas answered. “All four of us could make pie. According to the 'mom blogs', as you call them, it would be a good family bonding exercise.”

“That’s right. And if they want any pie, they gotta help make it. That means more for us if they refuse.” He grinned.

“A win-win situation, really.” Cas smiled before tugging Dean close so their lips met again.

“I love you.” Dean muttered.

“I love you too.” Cas said softly.

Behind their backs Sam and Eileen were fake-gagging at their sickly sweet interaction, but secretly just glad the two of them had finally gotten over their stubborn (and oblivious) selves.

Sam was honestly overjoyed to see his brother finally happy. He would even go as far as saying finally willing to be himself, too. (Not that he would ever say this outloud. Sam can practically see Dean’s eyes roll farther back into his head than should be possible at the words.) All four of them had gone through more shit in the last few months than any normal person would in their entire life. They were all just lucky to be alive, and with that, learning how to savour the little moments of overly sweet normalcy.

(And the pumpkin spice-life Dean had secretly been longing for since they were little kids.)

So of course they were going to help bake pie.

---

“I want to try Starbucks.” Cas said the next morning, both of them still in bed.

Dean groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Can I ask why, or is this one of those, 'I'll tell you later’ disasters like with the slime ingredients?”

“I want to try all the human things that I didn't get to try last time.” He said offhandedly.

Dean pictured Cas’s hurt face when he had told him he couldn’t stay, smile broken as Dean’s own heart shattered from the look the newly-human angel was giving him.

He wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, that Cas himself wasn’t the reason, but the lion in his stomach clawed the words down faster than even the thought of ruining Sam’s chances at survival could.

With a pang of guilt from the memory, Dean pulled himself closer to Cas and rested his head on the other man’s chest. He wrapped his arms around him, trying to preserve as much warmth and comfort as he could until they had to inevitably get out of bed. “Only if you let me sleep like this for thirty more minutes.”

Cas smiled. “Oh, are we making deals now?”

“I’d sell my soul for you.” Dean said cheekily, which earned a glare from Cas. “Believe me, I know.”

After a beat he went on. “Fine, you have a deal.” Before Dean could celebrate by tugging the covers over their bodies, Cas added another clause to their agreement. “But... in true Crowley fashion, you have to seal the deal with a kiss.”

Dean lazily threw his arms into the air. “Victory.”

He turned over, pulling himself upwards until he was just inches from Cas. Cradling the angel-turned-Winchester’s head in his hands, Dean placed his lips on Cas’s, melting into the touch as he felt the other man’s arms wrap around his torso.

When he broke away from the kiss, Dean found himself face to face with the most beautiful smile he had ever laid eyes on, one born from adoration and love. Cas’s eyebrows were slightly scrunched up, but for once it wasn’t a sign of confusion when met with some obscure eighties rock reference. It was a tiny expression of care, and it was one that was truly Cas. Not Jimmy’s, not even one Cas had picked up from him or Sam. It was completely and wholly Cas, and a completely and wholly human thing to do.

He realized Cas had been doing that long before the Empty stole his grace.

Dean smiled back at him, relaxed. Like taking in a deep breath after being under murky water for forty years. He brushed a loose strand of soft, brown hair into its place, before falling back into his spot and closing his eyes. “Crowley would be proud.” He whispered with a soft laugh, smile deepening as Cas joined him.

When their quiet laughter died out, there was a pause, air stagnant and in its own sleepy haze

“Oh and Dean?”

“Hm?” Dean turned his head to look at him, eyes not failing to glow with their unusually bright, green pigment. He took a deep breath, the lids of his eyes already started to slowly fall back down again.

“The slime wasn't a disaster. You enjoyed it.”

“I did.” He muttered sleepily, a loose smile forming on his lips as he drifted off to sleep. Cas laid there, running his fingers through the other man’s hair, contentment and admiration showing itself in every feature on his face.

This was more than he could have ever wanted.

---

“Dean. Dean wake up.” Cas was excitedly whisper-shouting in his ear like a kid on Christmas morning. It was exactly thirty minutes later, (he had counted), and Cas was ready to get moving.

“No.” He answered back, mimicking Cas’s tone.

“But you’re like a cat.” He teased. “You're on me and I can't get up.”

Dean sighed. “I can't believe I let you talk me into this.”

“It didn't take much convincing.”

Dean rolled over to give Cas a playful glare, but was met with the saddest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen, completely throwing him off his guard.

“I'm going to kill Sam for teaching you that.”

Cas just continued to give him that look.

“Fine.” Dean relented, sitting up with a yawn and thinking about how he will now never be able to win another argument.

“Get dressed.” Cas said excitedly. “We're going to Starbucks.”

“Hooray.” He gave a sarcastic laugh, but a smile creeped on his lips.

They walked out of their room together, heading towards the bunker’s library. Dean slid in one of the chairs, turning Sam’s still-open laptop around and waking it up.

Cas, meanwhile, turned to a random page of the lore book resting on the table and started reading in an attempt to pass the time.

The sound of Dean typing filled the air. “So, I just looked it up, and do we have to go to Starbucks?”

“Yes.” Cas said simply, not looking up from the book.

Dean groaned. “Cas there isn't one in the county, let alone Lebanon. That's probably why Sam and Eileen make their own.”

“Where's the closest one?” Cas asked, his blinding, blue eyes glaring at the back of Sam’s computer like he was trying to will the coffee shop to be near.

“I thought it was across state lines and in Nebraska at first, but it looks like there's a small one in a town called Washington. It's about 80 miles from here.”

“Let's go!” Cas excitedly straightened his trenchcoat and headed towards the door.

“Or, we could leave Starbucks to the fourteen year old girls.”

Cas turned back around and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure their entire demographic is fourteen year old girls, staff included.”

Alright, smartass. Dean thought, struggling to hide a smile.

Cas walked out the door, expecting Dean to follow.

“It takes an hour to get there, our coffee’s going to be cold by the time we get home, and it's freezing outside.” Dean muttered under his breath, but he grabbed his keys off the table and stood up, willing to follow Cas to the ends of the earth if it meant he would stay with him.

Not that he was going to enjoy this trip. In fact, he was currently doing the opposite of enjoying, and they hadn’t even gotten into the car yet. Starbucks. Starbucks. Really, Cas? Of all the places he wanted to go, it had to be Starbucks. He couldn’t want to explore humanity through Target or something?

Even Claire wouldn’t be caught dead in that place, with all the frou-frou toppings, elaborate drink mixes, and colourful, drizzled syrup. The people who go to Starbucks are the kind of people who like coffee that doesn’t taste like coffee. Teenage girls who might as well just be drinking whip cream, and that was without considering the seasonal drinks they fawn over.

Seasonal drinks that shouldn’t legally be allowed to be referred to as coffee.

Dean couldn’t believe he ever agreed to this, but still, he begrudgingly followed.

---

Using the GPS on Cas’s phone, (Dean said his insane directional skills helped out too), they found the Starbucks relatively easily once they were in the little town.

They parked the Impala, and Dean looked at the modern building. The green lettering contrasted with the tan plaster walls, spelling “Starbucks.”

He heard Cas get out, his feet making a crunching noise as they hit the gravel, and watched from across the top of the car as he started towards the coffee shop. Dean looked at the building warily, reluctance painted on his face.

Cas was telling him some random fact about a bird he saw, but Dean could only think about his reputation that was about to shatter like a vase dropping on tile floor.

Reputation with who? He didn't know.

Well, he had a vague idea, but chose not to let his thoughts wander that far.

It was okay. This was fine. He could swallow his pride and-

“Ooh. The peppermint mocha looks good.” Cas was reading the limited edition drinks on the drive-thru menu as they traveled across the parking lot.

Dean was going to barf.

They walked into the building, immediately hit with the overwhelming smell of excessive amounts of flavoured syrup indoused coffee. Dean glanced around the well-lit building, taking note of the many different people there.

(He wasn’t about to have any black-eyed minions reporting his Starbucks order to a very judgmental Queen of Hell.)

Cas pushed Dean’s protesting body into the line, looking pleased with the many different options written on the menu overhead.

He enjoyed the small touch of Cas’s hands on his back, moving him forwards to the line, but was grateful Cas was careful not to let them linger there too long.

He was still wary about doing… this, in public.

He knew Cas was patiently waiting for him to be ready, so he didn't know how to tell him that he might never be.

The teenager working the cash register interrupted his train of thought. “What will it be for ya?”

“I would like a peppermint mocha please.”

“Alrighty. And you?”

“I'll take just a black coffee.”

The barista looked unimpressed. “And your names?”

Dean grinned. “John and John.”

“No relation.” Cas added.

The barista just sighed. “How do you want me to differentiate the two of ‘em then?”

“Oh you can put ‘John Bonham’ on mine.” Dean replied.

“Comin’ right up.” Their tone didn't change, still just full of apathy that could only be perfected by the work of a burnt-out teenager.

Dean and Cas walked down to the end of the counter and towards the pickup section. “Now tell me, Castiel.” He stressed his partner’s name. “Who’s John Bonham?”

Cas sighed, but the corner of his mouth upturned in a grin. “John Henry Bohnham, affectionately referred to as ‘Bonzo’, born in 1948 and was most well known for being the drummer of the rock band ‘Led Zeppelin’.”

“Mmm very close, but unfortunately you forgot the word ‘best’ in front of ‘rock band.’” Dean smirked before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

“You should have said I was ‘John Bon Jovi.’” Cas said, smiling.

“Why? Because you’re only good at this sometimes?” Dean closed the gap between them.

As soon as their lips met, Dean pulled away instinctively, realization hitting him like a hunter with a bat as his eyes widened in terror. “I-I'm sorry, I didn’t...” His words faltered as he looked around at the people sitting in the coffee shop, all of which were paying no mind to them.

He felt sick, guilt gnawing at him from a pit in his stomach.

“Hey, it's okay Dean. You know I'm perfectly fine with public displays of affection, and no one else even saw us. There's no need to apologize.”

“Yeah-h.” He said shakily. Before he could figure out who he was apologizing to, a voice from behind the counter called.

“I have an order for a mister ‘John’ and ‘John Bonham’.”

“That's us.” Dean spat the words out quickly, turning around to take them from the barista’s hand. He rushed out of the door, the small tinkling sound of the welcome bell and the blood rushing to his ears drowning out the sound of Cas’s call from behind.

He sat in the front seat of Baby, knowing he was being childish. Dean took a shaky breath and tried not to think about it.

About what the hell he was thinking, kissing Cas out in public like that. The judgemental eyes- black or not- that were watching. He thought about what his father would say, mind instantly going back to a moment in his childhood he has tried to forget since it happened, wondering where he went wrong.

About the time John had caught him and Lee, ignoring the weak excuses Dean was stuttering out. Skipping town faster than they had done in years.

About how the left side of his face had been a yellow-ish purple for weeks following, and the sore spot on his arm from where he caught the pavement as he flew towards it.

About how he had told Sam he just fell on a hunt. “Don't worry kid, you should have seen the vamp when I was done with him.” He swung his fist around in slow motion, pretending to punch an invisible enemy as his little brother giggled in childish bliss.

About how John never looked at him the same. The disgust in his eyes, harsh words on his lips.

About how he vowed to never disappoint his father like that again, and their joint hatred for that part of him. Sometimes it felt like the only thing they could agree on.

About how somewhere, somehow, he had decided Cas was different. That he somehow didn’t count, and that losing him hurt so much, was such an egregious pain, he wanted as much of Cas as he was allowed to have. And how that was something insurmountable stronger than the twisted, sick feeling John had placed in his gut.

He remembered something Cas had told him once: “Hatred isn’t a natural trait, Dean, it’s a learned one. A baby isn’t born with the ability to hate, it’s passed on from one broken soul to another. Love, love however. That’s something different altogether.”

Cas’s hand on his shoulder pulled Dean out of his thoughts. “Hey.” He said softly.

“Hey Cas.”

“I love you.” He got in the passenger's seat, taking his coffee from Dean’s still frozen hand.

“I love you too.” He whispered absentmindedly, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing but thoughts from the past. His mind fighting an internal battle, logic telling him that what he had with Cas wasn’t wrong, and even though everything from fate to God had tried to wedge itself between them, it was still the most right thing he had. And he knew that, but his dad’s drunken, booming voice echoed throughout his head, telling him that he was dirty. Telling him the Winchester men had no place for someone like him.

“You better stop that now, boy. Bad things happen to you when you’re weak.”

At the time he had taken that as a warning, rather than a threat. But now Dean wasn’t so sure.

It’s not even that his Dad was particularly religious. He wasn’t told that it was a sin, or that he was going to Hell. Though it’s not like that particular statement would have been wrong. He thought with a bitter laugh.

While the thoughts in his head were screaming mercilessly, the drive home was in a simple silence. The only noise being Cas’s occasional sip, and the sound of soft fabric rubbing against skin as Cas moved his hand in small, comforting motions against Dean's back.

When they got to the bunker, Cas, who was genuinely impressed that Dean managed to drive them home without crashing into a tree, pulled Dean out of the car and gently shook him out of his self-imposed stupor.

“Your coffee's cold.” Cas said with a laugh.

Dean blinked a couple times, clearing the fog from his mind, before laughing along with him. “And who’s fault is that? You were the one who insisted on traveling across the state to get it.”

“Do you want some of mine?” Cas asked. “There's a little bit left, and I held it next to the heater. It should still be lukewarm.”

“No thanks, Cas. I can go make some in the kitchen.”

“But what if I want you to try it?” Dean glared at him. “Don't make me do Sam’s ‘puppy dog eyes’ again.”

“Okay, okay. You win.” He put his hands up, mimicking a surrender. “I'll try some of your stupid, Christmas cookie, candy-cane flavoured coffee thing or whatever.” They started walking towards the entrance to the bunker.

“Peppermint mocha?”

“That's the one.”

Cas laughed at him.

“Oh just, give it here.” Dean said. He took a long sip from the disposable cup. He could taste a vague hint of whipped cream mixed in with the coffee, its light fluffy texture sticking to the last swallow of smooth liquid in the bottom of the cup. The chocolate and espresso rested on his tongue, and the peppermint was strong and refreshing. He took another sip.

“Does that face mean you like it?”

Dean looked at him guiltily. “No.” He opened the bunker’s door and started walking down the metal stairs.

“Yes you do.”

“No, I don't.”

“You took a second sip.”

Dean reached the bottom of the stairs first, and walked over to the War Room table to set both coffee cups and his keys down.

“So? I was trying to make sure I properly understood the flavour. Since when is that a crime?”

“You wanted to properly understand a flavour you didn't like?” Cas walked up to Dean and pulled the nearest chair out to sit down.

“What are you two arguing about this time?” Eileen asked from the library.

Cas clenched both of his hands into fists, putting the right one on top of the other. He made small, circular, stirring motions with his right hand. “Coffee.” He signed swiftly, movements fluid.

“Ah. That makes sense.” She spoke the words.

“What makes sense?” Sam asked, walking in from one of the hallways, making sure Eileen could see his lips before speaking.

“They're arguing over coffee again.”

Sam glanced at both of them, before his eyes reached the two cups on the War Room table.

“Wait a second… Dean?” He looked at his brother, before turning to face his best friend. “Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?” Cas answered.

“Did you two go to Starbucks?”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Dean grumbled.

“Yes, we did!” Cas sounded way too excited to be referring to coffee. “I got a peppermint mocha, and Dean tried some and liked it.”

“I did not.”

“I don't care what coffee you like, Dean. What I do care about is that you went all the way to Starbucks, and didn't bother to ask if we wanted to come.”

“Not cool Dean.” Eileen walked in, shaking her head and hiding a smile.

“I might have thought about buying you two drinks, but there was no way I was ordering yours with a straight face.” He looked at Sam. “And it's an hour away, they wouldn't have been hot or cold or whatever they're supposed to be by the time we got here.”

“Well then we'll just have to go back, all four of us.” Eileen put simply.

“It's an hour away.”

“We know.” Sam added.

“Let me say that again, in case you weren’t listening. It's an hour away. For coffee. That isn't even that good.”

“I beg to differ, Dean.” Cas said.

“Yeah I'm definitely with Cas on this one.” Eileen agreed while Sam nodded along.

“No. There's no way I'm getting back in Baby to drive all the way to Starbucks again.”

“Fine. We’ll go get our own.”

“With what car?” Dean said, very sure of himself.

Sam snatched Baby’s keys off the war room table, which in hindsight was probably something Dean should have expected.

“Let's hope Sam doesn't have too many shots of espresso.” Eileen said, faking concern. “I would hate for your baby to pay the price.”

“Fine. I'll drive you.” Dean grumbled while Eileen double fist-pumped her win.

Cas looked very pleased with the thought of getting to try more coffee.

---

They left shortly after, the drive over painful for everyone except Dean, who listened to the same four songs on repeat the entire hour.

(It’s their own fault, really.)

---

“Can we please listen to something other than Bob Seger on the trip home?” Sam complained as he slammed shut the door to Baby’s backseat.

“You’re just mad you didn’t get shotgun.” Dean said, closing his own door. “Besides, driver picks the music, everyone else shuts their cakehole.” Sam mouthed the words along with Dean, having heard the speech a million times before.

Eileen and Cas got out, neither one of them had any desire to input on their squabble, and were instead engaged in their own, quieter discussion.

Both brothers continued to argue until they walked into the Starbucks.

“Ah. There's the scent of overpriced coffee I missed.” Eileen joked as she took her first breath inside the building, using her hand to waft the smell towards her.

“What are you getting?” Cas asked Sam.

“I want my usual, and Eileen, what are you having?”

“Hot chocolate with espresso shots please. This place doesn't sell liquor.” She shook her head sadly and Sam laughed. “Good thing I brought my own.” She winked at them, opening her jacket just enough so they could see the inside pocket and showing off her flask.

“Oh, now that would be a Starbucks I would go to.” Dean said.

“You two wait in line.” Sam pointed to Cas and Dean. “We’ll save a table.”

Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but they walked away before he had the chance. Cas leaned over towards him. “Don't worry. I'll order Sam’s.” He very conspicuously winked.

Dean smiled at his attempts of regular human interaction, before over-the-top winking himself.

“Can you order for us? I need to talk to Sam about something.”

“Sure thing…” Cas had to think before finishing his sentence. “...buckaroo.”

Dean outwardly cringed. “Keep trying, you'll get there eventually.” He patted Cas on the back, which was slightly moving in a chuckle.

It was good to see Cas filled with so much simple joy. Face creased from laughter rather than stress, he seemed so much lighter. Happier. It was only a small sliver of what he deserved, but it was something. Maybe he could live with driving an hour to get what he assumed was half-decent coffee.

“What would you like?” Cas asked him, eyes still filled with a sparkle that only comes from gaining something you thought you lost.

“Uh.” He thought about it for a moment, almost considering branching out into the unexplored terrain that was the dark green menu with small, white text, before shuddering at the thought.

“I think I'll take that expensive black coffee I didn't get earlier.”

Dean was not going to turn into one of those people, if he had any say about it.

Cas walked into the line, leaving Dean to scan the room, furiously waving Sam over when his eyes found their booth.

“Sam.” He sounded like he was trying to whisper, but his volume raised far higher than that. The patron closest to Dean gave him a look before turning back to their work.

“Sam, come here, it's urgent.” His brother turned to look at him, rolling his eyes before getting out of the booth.

“What do you want?” He said once he reached Dean.

“Sam. Help. What do I do?”

“About what?”

“About what kind of coffee Cas is having.”

“Oh god, Dean let it go. He's not going to only ever drink black coffee. Contrary to popular belief, former angels do actually have souls.”

Dean ignored the implications that he didn't have a soul, too distracted by Cas. “But look.” He motioned his head towards where Cas was standing, next in line to order. “He’s eyeing the weird fruity drinks.”

“Dean. It's Cas. The man’s favorite food is PB&J. What did you expect him to have, taste?”

“Alright that's rich coming from mister Pinkity Drinkity or whatever the fuck.”

“You walked into a Starbucks and ordered black coffee, I don't think I'm the wrong one here.”

“Wait, wait. Shut up. Quiet.” He hit Sam on the shoulder in a childish attempt at getting him to stop talking so he could listen.

“Ow. That hurt.” Sam muttered, before turning to watch Cas, which Dean was already doing.

“I would like to try a…” Cas methodically scanned the menu again. “A ‘Passion Tango Iced Tea,’ please.” The barista took no mind to the excessive air quotes.

“It's not even coffee.” Dean said to Sam, clearly distraught. He turned to look back at Cas.

“And your name sir?”

“Lizzo.”

Dean threw his arms up into the air. “I can't believe this is the man I love.” His voice cracked like he was holding in tears of anguish from listening to Cas order.

Sam just rolled his eyes at the theatrics. Right, and he’s the dramatic one.

“Aw. You're in love.” Sam held his hands up, forming a heart and mocking his brother.

“Oh shut up. What are you, seven?”

“Is Cas your gay thing?”

“You shut your mo-”

“What are we gossiping about?” Eileen whispered, cutting Dean off and causing them both to jump.

“We're not gossiping.” Sam said indignantly.

“Sam started it.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“This is where I call you two ‘asshats’, right?”

“It's ‘assbutt.’” Cas said, walking up to them and catching the tail end of their conversation. “And that's my line.”

Cas handed them each their drinks, before excitedly trying his own. He put the plastic cup up to his mouth, almost missing the straw. When he swallowed the cranberry-colored liquid, his face relaxed in pleasure.

“I know this one isn't coffee, but it's really good.”

“We didn't get coffee either.” Eileen said. “So don't worry, Dean's the odd man out here.”

Dean glared at her before trying his own coffee, and well, it was coffee. The point of buying expensive caffeine still went straight over his head.

The four of them went over to their thankfully-still-available booth and sat down. Dean and Cas sat on one side, both instinctively choosing the side that faced the door, with Sam and Eileen sliding into the seats directly across from them. They sat there, talking about nothing in particular, and certainly nothing of importance, before falling into the natural art of storytelling.

Aside from killing monsters, that’s what hunters did best. Sitting around and sharing stories. As tiring and dangerous as their lives were, some hunts were worth sharing exaggerated and hyperbolic versions of, especially over drinks.

Sam’s favourite story to tell changed every time, and one would almost be inclined to believe that most of it wasn't real, but the wildest parts also caused the most merriment. (Dean pretended he hadn’t witnessed the whole thing, sparing Sam by not telling the other two how it actually went down.)

Eileen shared of her time in Ireland. “Foreign country, foreign monsters.” She said with a wink, telling of creatures neither Sam nor Dean had even read about.

Dean’s favourite story to tell, aside from the fact that he killed Hitler, was the time he got to solve a mystery with everyone’s favorite talking dog. And yeah, all three of the people that sat at the table had heard both many times before, but that didn't matter, it was still enrapturing to hear them again.

Cas had millenniums to choose from, but always found the most interesting hunts to be the ones with the Winchesters. He also had many hilarious stories about his adventures with Crowley, but he was less fond of those.

“I remember once, Dean went on a hunt with Dad.” Sam started. “Nasty vampire, it got a hit or two on Dean. I think you guys went with another hunter. Young. About your age, actually. Uh…”

He snapped his fingers, trying to recall the name. “Lee. That's it.” Dean looked up from the coffee right as Sam said it. “Do you remember him?”

Something flashed in Dean’s eyes, but his brother didn't seem to notice.

Cas, who was used to admiring every minute detail of Dean's expression and posture, didn't miss the ever so slight, yet sharp, inhale. Or the way he swallowed before speaking, trying to clear the small lump from his throat.

Dean noticed too, internally rolling his eyes at his own reaction.

“Yeah it's been a while, but I remember him.” Dean was blatantly ignoring Cas’s burning stare from beside him, and the fact that he had stabbed Lee through the chest just last year.

Cas made sure no one was watching before gently placing a hand on Dean’s thigh. Knowing it would comfort him from both intuition and experience. Dean stiffened under the touch, but after realizing no one could see where Cas’s hand was, he visibly relaxed.

“What happened to him?” Eileen asked innocently.

“Oh uh, a hunt I think. Most of us go that way, I assume he was no different.” Technically Dean dealt the final blow, but it was the entrancing call of the monster, greed, and the life Lee and Dean had both secretly wanted, that caused his former-friend’s downfall in the end.

“Yeah.” Sam said solemnly, suddenly lost in his own thoughts, most of which were riddled with grief.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the weight of their many losses wash over them like a tidal wave.

One made of espresso and milk rather than the rough waters of the sea.

---

The ride back was more manageable, Dean allowing them one song choice each, complete with a warning to pick wisely.

(They all very cheekily chose the songs they knew would bother Dean the most.)

---

Full on coffee, cookies Dean bought for them at Starbucks, and brimming with contentment, (as well as the fact that they spent half the day in the car), Cas suggested to Dean that they “hit the hay” as they stepped back into the bunker.

They laid there in silence, breathing in scents of comfort, coffee, and each other, until Cas eventually drifted off to sleep.

Dean, however, continued to lay there. Thinking.

He remembered the first solo case John sent him on.

Something curled inside his gut.

They had been two nuns, their fate a product of hate crime. Put to death for simply being themselves.

Dean didn't blame them for coming back as ghosts.

He remembered the words - ones he would soon learn were slurs - that John would spit out like acid.

Or offhandedly toss like they didn't bear enough weight to shatter the window of a person's self-image.

It had taken him almost forty years to realize that very same window inside of him was in sharp, jagged pieces. Cutting anyone and everyone who came near.

It had taken Cas dying to start picking them up again.

He turned to look at the man next to him, relaxed and blissfully sleeping. His chest moved up and down rhythmically, and Dean slowed his breath to match until he fell into a surprisingly peaceful slumber.

---

When Dean woke up, the other side of his bed was cold.

He didn't panic, knowing full well that Cas probably ran to the bathroom, or was pouring another mountain of sugar in his coffee.

Losing Cas again to the Empty had ripped him apart, but months of spending every night with his partner left him with less nightmares and waking in cold sweats then he had since before Hell.

Dean also learned that his own presence was enough to fight off the demons of solid, black goo that plagued Cas’s head at night.

He was finally starting to understand why life seemed to lose all meaning when Cas was gone, and from there he could slowly start to rebuild both of them.

Dean heard soft padding noises as socked feet walked down the hall, and there was a knock on the bedroom door. "S'your room too, Cas. You don't have to knock." He laughed, words slightly slurred from just waking up

Cas walked in, wielding two mugs of coffee and a proud look shining in his eyes. “I made us coffee.” He said triumphantly, handing one of the mugs to Dean.

“I put chocolate and peppermint in your coffee.”

Dean fake-gasped. “You monster. Ruining the integrity of my drink like that.”

“I'm a human, you ass.” Cas responded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, I know you liked mine yesterday.”

“I did not.” He said, discontentedly crossing his arms. “I only drink coffee that's as black as my soul. Darker than the night sky. Hotter than the bunker’s computer when it overheats. As manly as-”

“Oh, just drink your damn coffee.”

“Fine.” He groused. “But I'm not enjoying it.”

Cas raised an eyebrow at him, before setting his mug on the bedside table and sitting down behind Dean. The bed creaked underneath him as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist. “Is this why you and Sam never use umbrellas?” He joked.

Dean laughed.

Cas rested his head on the crook of Dean’s neck and whispered. “You know you don't have to pretend.”

“Pretend what?” Dean asked softly.

“You know.”

“That I don’t like flavoured coffee?” He said with a snort.

“Sort of.” Cas hugged him tighter. “No one’s going to think any less of you Dean. You’re allowed to like the things you like.”

“I know.” He resigned.

“John isn't here anymore.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” The words barely came out as a whisper, hot tears betraying Dean’s eyes as they silently leaked out and ran down his cheeks.

He tried to wipe the tears away, hearing his Dad’s voice in his head and knowing he was being stupid.

Dean couldn't help but think of himself as a small, living-room window, from an old, dilapidated house. Stained yellow with age. Cracking from wear.

He let the drumming of his Dad’s words in his head be drowned out by Cas’s voice.

He couldn't unwrap the fuzz from around him, so he didn't know what Cas was saying, ears seemingly filled with cotton. It was just the knowledge alone that he was there. That he was holding him and whispering comforting words into his ear. That even as a human he could heal Dean at his lowest points, and still see him as the brightest, strongest, soul.

You don't really know what a picture is going to be until it's done.

Maybe that window is a beautiful stained-glass portrait.

“Uh.” Dean cleared his throat. “What-what do you have?” He indicated Cas’s coffee by angling his head towards where it sat on the nightstand.

“I made iced coffee.”

Dean just looked at him, astounded, eyes widening. “You mean it’s not hot?”

“Yes, that's where the ‘iced’ in ‘iced coffee’ comes from.” He said very seriously.

They both sat in silence for the next hour, peacefully drinking their coffee and enjoying the presence of one another.

---

When they got out of bed and ventured into the rest of the bunker, they found Sam and Eileen in the library.

They were sitting in adjacent chairs, with Eileen laying her head on Sam’s shoulder and reaching for her water bottle on the table. They were reading a book together, but Eileen shook Sam indicating she had seen them walk in.

“Goodmorning.” She greeted cheerfully.

“Mornin’.” Dean pulled up a chair across from them, and watched as Cas did the same.

“What are you two reading?” Cas asked.

“The Men of Letters’s Bestiary.” Sam said.

Dean snorted. “Ah. Doing a little light reading are we?”

“We're thinking about filling in some of the pages.” Eileen added.

“Yeah, for all of the stuff they have here, it's surprisingly empty.” Sam continued flipping through some of the pages, most of which were blank.

“Heh. I should put you in that thing, Cas.”

Cas let out a laugh. “Right. Because I’m a good example of an angel.” The sarcasm was masking something else in his voice.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’ve always been my favourite angel.” Dean only realised how sappy he sounded after it came out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rest of them are dicks.” Eileen added.

Cas smiled at that, seemingly back to normal.

“Right, well you three can do that, I'm off to the Dean Cave.”

“Or…” Sam started.

“We could go back to Starbucks.” Cas finished, nodding his head enthusiastically.

“Yeah... that's not where I was going with that, but I like where your head’s at, Cas. We should definitely go back.”

“Eileen?” He asked.

“Hell yeah.”

“Dean?”

Dean pressed his mouth into a thin line and glared at him. “Yes, sure, fine. But we're not making this a daily thing.”

“That's fair.” Cas agreed. “It's probably not very healthy.”

He went to grab his wallet and keys before Sam could start his speech on the nutritional value of green things, and Eileen snatched her water bottle off the library table as they all got up to leave.

---

Dean gave up on letting them choose the music after snickering and requesting “Friday” by Rebecca Black for the third time in a row.

(It wasn't even Friday?)

---

Dean stepped out and closed Baby’s door in the parking lot of Starbucks an hour later, kicking the loose pieces of gravel on the asphalt for the third time in two days.

“We might as well just live here.” He said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I wouldn't make that offer if I were you, Cas looks like he’d be totally on board.” Sam laughed.

Cas went and stood beside Dean as they started walking towards the building, smiling.

“What?” Dean asked, question genuine and free of all malice.

“Nothing.” Cas answered, smile not faltering.

His eyes revealed nothing but pure devotion for the man he was staring at. A silent promise, one without pressure, that he would be standing there, and Dean could take the leap anytime he wanted.

Dean was slowly inching towards the end of the diving board.

---

“I think I'll just drink my water.”

“Oh that's exciting.” Sam joked. “If I got you a lemon to go with it, would you be able to handle that?”

“Don't talk to me about my drink, when yours is a vivid green puke colour.”

“Hey, at least it actually has a colour. And a flavour at that.”

Dean couldn’t believe those words were coming from the same man who drinks exactly a hundred and one ounces of water a day. (Which, according to Sam, is the recommended amount for males, as stated by the Institute of Medicine.)

(Dean didn’t care.)

“Fine then.” She turned to look at Dean. “Get me the strongest thing on the menu.”

Dean laughed before turning to Cas. “Let's just go get in line before we suffer at the hands of the Leahy like Sam.”

Sam and Eileen went to look for a place where they could all sit again, playfully bickering the entire way.

While he was standing in line with Cas, Dean looked over at his brother, and found him and Eileen sitting at a small table in the corner.

Cas was still helping him learn ASL, so he caught parts of their conversation.

“If Jack is in every drop of rain, do you think he's in your water?” Sam signed, trying to contain his laughter.

Eileen pushed her water away with a look of disgust. “You’re lucky I love you.” She answered back.

“I know I am.”

He watched her silently laugh before turning back to look at Cas.

They really did have it good, didn't they?

“What are you ordering, Dean?”

Dean stood there silently, contemplating. He internally weighed his pros and cons, mind leaving the menu entirely. While there was still a lot of shit he had to work through, (shit he had been actively not working out his entire life), there wasn’t much of a decision to be made.

He would always choose Cas.

“You know what?” He reached out and grasped Cas’s hand firmly. “I was thinking about being less boring. What ingredients do you suggest I try?”

Cas smiled warmly, reaching the crinkled corners of his eyes. “They have a cinnamon flavoured one. That’ll be almost like apple pie.”

“Will it really?” Dean’s tone was dismissive, but there was a smile on his face.

“Yes, Sam told me.“

“Not that I trust Sam’s judgment, but okay, I think I’ll take one of those.”

“I'm going to have a real pumpkin spice latte this time.” Cas seemed very pleased with the aspect of buying something they could make it home, but Dean wasn't going to fault him for it.

The patron in front of them finished ordering, clearing the way for Cas and Dean. The barista from the first time they went caught sight of them and made a face. “Wait a minute. I think I know you two.”

“Yes, we came here yesterday.” Cas helped. “Well, we actually visited twice, but you weren't working the second time.”

“Right... John and John, how could I forget?”

“This time we're ordering for four though.”

“I would like a…” Dean squinted at the menu, looking for the cinnamon flavoured coffee. “‘Cinnamon Dolce Latte.’ And my devilishly handsome friend here will take the pumpkin spice version.”

“And what are the other two drinks and names?”

Dean whispered something in Cas’s ear. “I'll drink the coffee, but I won't budge on this one.”

“That's okay Dean, you’ll get there eventually.” He whispered back.

The barista looked unimpressed with them. Again.

Dean cleared his throat. “Ahem, sorry. The tall one with the stupidly long hair,” he pointed towards Sam, “is getting…” he trailed off before looking to Cas for help.

“I don't know, man. It was something sickly looking. Cold? Green? Possibly tea?”

“And Iced Green Tea Latte?” The barista suggested.

“That's the one. His name is Jimmy.”

“And the lovely lady sitting next to him would like the strongest drink you have. Her name is Robert.”

“Her name is Robert…?” He slowly pointed towards Eileen, sounding unsure of himself.

Or them.

“Yup.” Cas said.

Eileen gave a little wave from across the room.

He gritted his teeth in a very clearly fake smile. “Coming right up.”

They paid for their coffee and picked it up, taking the travel cups across the room and towards Sam and Eileen.

Cas took a sip from his pumpkin spice latte, gleefully smiling. “As much as I like trying different drinks, I think I might start just getting this one. It's my favourite.”

Sam leaned over to Dean, neither one taking their eyes off of Cas. “Should we tell him the drink is seasonal?” He glanced at Sam, before staring back at his partner, whose face was beaming like a literal ray of sunshine.

Dean’s face softened. “Nah. Let’s not ruin his moment.” He took a sip of his cinnamon coffee and damn, it was delicious.

Nothing at all like apple pie, but still delicious.

Cas walked over to him, making eye contact in a silent question. Dean nodded with a small smile, and Cas took his hand.

“I love you.” Cas whispered.

“I love you too.” He whispered back.

They didn’t whisper to hide, and it wasn't because he was ashamed. It was because that exchange was just for them.

Dean leaned in and softly kissed Cas.

Now that was to tell everyone in the shop that his devilishly handsome friend was spoken for.

Slowly, the sun would come out and shine through the stained-glass window, shadow portraying the picture of an angel.

And alright, fine, Dean could admit that he enjoyed the peppermint mocha.

He thought about it for a moment, before giving a light chuckle, realising something.

“What?” Cas asked, turning to look at him with a soft smile resting on his face.

“Nothing.” Dean whispered, squeezing Cas’s hand in his. He took a sip from his coffee, relishing in the warm and cozy flavour enrapturing his tongue.

He was only thinking that maybe, just maybe,

Cas had changed him too.

---

Bonus Epilogue:

Dean held the glass door open for the other three, and they all walked out onto the asphalt, laughing, and making their way towards Baby.

The street lamp overhead flickered, and all four of them froze.

“Did anyone happen to get the salted caramel macchiato?” Dean whispered.

---

-This fic on Ao3 (Kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated.)

-Writing Tag

-Ao3

-Request fics/drabbles/ficlets. (Please)