#let’s go angsssst

[kissnpunch]

q!tubbo is a good parallel of q!roier being a father.

for q!tubbo is the first time being a father, he’s understanding why everybody feels deeply hurt when something happen to the eggs and the feeling of loving someone so much. he was a lonely boy stuck with his machines and making his own name on the island, then, q!phill introduce him to chay and tallu, sharing that company and sweetness before they were gone, q!tubbo started to make more deep relationships with people, the most important one being fred before disappearing.

now, q!roier was like that at the beginning, young, silly and mostly lonely after being betrayed, for that bobby was a light in his dark perception, in the other hand he connected with the eggs like q!tubbo with their grandsons but with leo, tilín, juana and q!cellbit is the perfect example of making deep relationship come true for him.

but he has more time on that territory than q!tubbo, two sons and lost them, alone again after his husband disappeared, is like they share same points of their story but in different sequence.

following their pov is so heart wrenching because i see on q!tubbo what q!roier used to be with bobby, sunny is what q!tubbo need it like bobby for q!roier, sadly, our spiderboy doesn’t want to be like that anymore knowing the reality of being a father for such a fragile creatures.

q!tubbo is the happy part of being father and taking care of the eggs, q!roier is the sad and bad part of that.

that’s why seeing their treat on the new eggs reveals a lot of their own thoughts and feelings after what happen in purgatory and general, for me, sunny and pepito are a comparison of how bad is being a father again and if, at the end, is worthy trying with them.

[ayyyez]

Headcanons on shisui, minato, and Yamato on how they'd react to their s/o (civilian shinobi or otherwise:)) getting attacked and almost dying? 😭 need the agnst in my life rn I love ur work ur iconic uwu

A/N: the angsssst! but it's okay I love angst it's what I do haha but mostly as long as it has a happy ending because we deserve that as a treat as do they. And aw thanks sm!

TAGS: angst, reader attacked/almost dies, sad characters, mini scenarios rather than headcanons, mentions of hospitals, mentions of wounds, mentions of being impaled, no graphic injuries, characters blaming themselves, long post under cut

CHARACTERS: Shisui Uchiha, Minato Namikaze, Yamato

SHISUI UCHIHA

Shisui is usually the calm and collected one no matter the situation. He can take out any enemy. Always has a plan and can lighten any situation with a lighthearted quip should it call for it.

But this, oh god nothing can prepare him for this.

You're not supposed to be able to get hit. Your entire jutsu is supposed to be impenetrable. More so than that, he's supposed to be your eyes in case things go wrong, your back up.

The enemy found a weak spot though—pulled a thread in the seam everything falls apart right in front of him.

Shisui feels so powerless as he calls your name.

'I've got you.' He says, catching you just before you hit the ground.

He ducks for cover as kunai come at him from all sides. The rest of the squad focus on the guy who got you. Taking down the rest of the enemies is a sinch in comparison. He can't even think about anything else except getting you out and alive.

When he makes it through the thick of the trees he feels you tremble in his arms.

'Shisui.' You call his name, same as you have a thousand times before but this time it's so quiet, almost ghostly.

Shisui is terried to look down but he has to. He can't let you down by betraying his fears. He needs to make you feel safe.

'H-hey.' He doesn't mean to let his voice slip and tremble as he sees how you don't look so good. 'It's going to be alright. We're almost there.'

You manage a nod.

By the time he makes it to the medics you begin to fade and he panics. They take you off his hands and into the tent to tend to your wounds.

Shisui spends the whole time pacing outside pale as a ghost.

He can't sit or stand still. He's a jolting mess. He can barely accept the water or food offered to him by his comrades.

It's the longest wait of his life waiting for you to wake up.

'Shisui.' Is the first thing you say as you come to.

He cries he's so overcome with emotion. Takes your hand and drops his face against it. Poor Shisui is so exhausted and has been so scared he just loves you so much.

MINATO NAMIKAZE

Guilt overwhelms Minato as he sits in the hospital room waiting for you to wake up.

He wasn't there when you had been injured because he held so much faith in your ability to hold your own and now he can't help but blame himself for being so carless. He should have been there. He should have been with you.

It's not that now he believes you can't handle yourself, it's that he should have been there anyway. Anyone can slip up. Anything can happen. This is proof of that and he knows that now.

If he could go back and do things differently— 

No it's too late for that. He would do right and better by you now.

He stays by your side each day waiting for you to wake up. He speaks to you, tells you little things about each day that are trivial but also deep things like how much he cares for you.

'I'm sorry.' He whispers, stroking your hand. 'I love you, I'll be here when you wake up.'

He lets go of your hand and walks over to the window to look out onto the village below.

Everything seems smaller, holds less meaning without you here awake beside him. It's like something is missing. He's no longer quite whole.

There's a stiring behind him and Minato turns wide eyed to find you coming to.

He can't quite believe it when your eyes flutter open.

'Mmm.' You groan. 'Damn that hurts.'

A soft chuckle escapes him and then a few tears too. Just a flood of relief hits at the signs of you being there.

Then you turn to him, a little more awake.

'Hey.' You say. 'What are you doing all the way over there, huh?'

And that's all it takes for him to just crowd you in the tightest (but also careful) hug.

'I'm so glad you're awake.' He whispers. 'I'm so sorry.'

'Don't be sorry.' You assure him. 'I'm glad you're here though.'

He pulls away and looks you deep in the eyes. 'I love you.'

It's enough to take your breath away. 'I love you, too.'

YAMATO

The image of you jumping in front of him to protect him is something Yamato will never forget. He's not sure he can forgive you for it either if you don't wake up.

He knows neither of you had a choice but— 

Seeing you there impaled is just not something he can ever forgive.

You should have let it hit him. Village be damned he'd rather—okay he would not rather hundreds of other people die instead of you getting injured but that's besides the point! He should never of had to see you that way. If you didn't worm your way into his life and make him care then— 

Oh who is he kidding.

Yamato could never be mad at you.

He's mad at himself. He should never have agreed to put you in this situation in the first place. There should have been a better strategy. He should have thought up a better strategy.

'It was an impossible situation, stop beating yourself up over it and just be there instead.'

Yamato lifts his head.

'Kakashi.' He balls his fists against his pants then sighs unfurling them. 'I know it's just—'

'Just that you think you could have strategised yourself out of an impossible situation now that it's over.'

'This is different.'

'It's always different with the people we care about.' He gives him a knowing expression. 'With the people we love.'

'I don't need a pep talk right now.'

'No but you also don't need to sit here waiting for someone to scold you like you've done something wrong.'

Yamato gives him a doubtful look.

'You both did your duty and what you wanted to do so now you ought to both be together for the waking up part.' Kakashi sighs. 'Neither of you are dying today.'

Yamato takes a deep breath letting it settle in his lungs before he exhales again. Kakashi was right. He needs to be by your side.

'Okay.' Is all he says before he stands and heads to your room, leaving his senpai behind.

The tension is palpable as he enters your room. The machines beeping and your assisted breathing fill his ears. He sits beside you timid as he shifts closer.

'Sorry, I took so long.' Is all he whispers as he wakes for you to wake.

Your eyes flicker open a few moments later as if to let him know it's alright. He's not mad anymore, only relieved. Loved.

[lamemaster]

Songs of Heart- Winter

Pairing: Turgon x Reader x Fingon (hehe)

Genre: Dramamamama and Angsssst

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Had you known better, you would have never looked his way. You would have shielded your eyes from his. Yet, despite the lament, you are certain that you would have done it. You would have betrayed yourself even with the foreknowledge of your destruction.

Fall | Winter | Spring | Summer | Epilogue

Turukano

Before the ice even groaned and fractured, his hand finds yours…It happens faster than anything. Instinct. He has to hold on to the one his heart can't let go.

He watches your eyes widen as his fingers interlace with yours, pulling you back from the freezing depths that gaped open beneath your feet. A common peril in treacherous Helcaraxe.

No fate has managed to sever the affection he holds for you. It simmers under the veil you both wear. His marriage to Elenwe, yours to Findekano, fails to mask what thrums like a forgotten spring amidst the winter's despair.

 The warmth of holding your hand, a forgotten comfort, momentarily pushes back the despair of Helcaraxe.

He held this hand once, free of guilt, fear of rejection, or the shackles of forbidden bonds. Turukano fears your resentment. He has evaded your eyes for too long, the one who lets go first. He leaves you to find solace with your family.

Just as he steadies your steps, another crack echoes through the air. Behind him, a band of elves vanishes into the unforgiving water. Grief for the lost echoes in his heart, but his world narrows to you. You are safe. You are here. Away from his brother, a dark voice whispers in his mind.

But this is a comfort he allows himself. Just a sliver of the past that he has hidden from all.

It takes Turukano a precious minute to decipher the panicked look in your eyes and understand the choked scream that tears from your lips as you lunge for the water.

 Instinctively, he holds you back. His brow furrows at your actions. He has to save you. Everything else will fall into place.

"-we"

"Sa-e-nwe"

Your words barely reach him before he sees the last fading glimpse of golden hair disappear beneath the churning water.

 "Elenwe!" Your scream fills his ears, and a horrifying realization crashes down on him.

Findekano

Love blooms in Findekano's heart the moment he hears your laughter. All his reservations about marrying for political gain or the resentment of becoming the bait for his father’s elaborate plans of bringing family along shatter the minute he hears the trills of your laughter.

It is a beautifully delicate thing. In the early days of your courtship, he seeks to gain your favor. He treasures it. Your mirth is the truth of how well you fit with him, how his humor sparks your laughter.

His fondness for you only grows since the bond of your marriage unites you for eternity. How radiant you were beneath him, your hair spread out, your cheeks rosy with passion, your hands pulling him closer.

The next day, you seamlessly integrate with his family. You organize tea parties for his mother, bake Arakáno's favorite snacks, and take Irissë and Ektelion on outings together. You sing songs and poems to Turukano's daughter, even taking night shifts to care for her and give Elenwe a rest. Even Nolofinwe, the frowning stern father-in-law, is not spared from the warmth of the knitted socks you leave in his office. Your every action is for him and his people. You become an inseparable part of him.

You brighten Findekano's life.

When peril looms, you stand by him, packing your belongings while helping him cradle his entire life for the flight led by his uncle.

You follow him, even in tears as you bid your parents a farewell for what seems like forever. That day, for the first time, Findekano becomes the reason for your tears. That day, he pledges to return to you what he takes from you.

Deep into the march towards Alqualonde, his eyes find themselves drawn back to where you stand next to your cousin Findarato and Ektelion. He forces his mind to ease, though it doesn't quite listen. Turukano is there, so you must be safe. He has to allow you this moment of comfort, and for once, he cannot be the one to give it.

So Findekano rushes to keep up with his father. He trusts you with his ever-reliable brother by your side. 

You both always find your way back to each other. So it will be again.

The next time he meets your gaze, his cheek stings from your stinging slap. Your eyes are red-rimmed with unshed tears. Your hair is disarrayed, at the mercy of the agitated sea breeze. And Findekano finds his eyes evading yours as the madness leaves him gasping on the bloodied shore of Alqualonde.

Surrounded by the bodies of your kin, Findekano witnesses your hatred for the first time. Your words blur into receding rage before he catches the ends of your sentence:

"-never show me this wretched face of yours." The words carve themselves into the bond

He watches you turn and crouch beside a wailing Earwen. In that fleeting moment, a terrifying realization dawns on him: your abandonment. He fears you abandoning him more than the piled-up bodies around him. Yet, it settles like an inevitable truth.

Hours ago, he had no doubt of his place by your side, or the fate that brought you together. But now, a chasm lies where once there was hope.

Your hatred feels more tangible than the love he once believed in. As if all that was once truth had been nothing but his hopeful desire.

Huddled with your sobbing aunt and cousins, you seem further away than ever before. Your bond, which he once considered his truth, shatters into pieces – so brittle, as if it had been a dream all along.

His eyes wander to where you are. Even in his heartbreak, Findekano remains tethered to you. He drops the sword his failing arms can't hold and instructs a guard to hand you his water flask. You would accept it from him, so he'll find another way.

Reader

You stood next to Findarato. That's all it amounted to. That was the only reason you let Findekano lead the troop ahead while you stayed behind. And if Turukano happened to be in the same place, it was merely a coincidence.

You walked beside your brother Ektelion, who had earlier in the march sworn loyalty to Turukano. It was easy to forget your title as the eldest daughter-in-law of the House of Nolofinwe when surrounded by the memories of your childhood.

 Even in the dark and gloom of loss, your heart found a strange peace in the oblivion of the responsibilities that had thrust themselves upon you.

That was before you held your sobbing aunt in an embrace. Or witnessed the bloodshed of your kin. So much blood. The sight that greeted you was as if a vicious stroke of a painter's carelessness had smudged everything in red.

But your world had shrunk to your kin. Your cousins, Findarato, Artanis, Angaráto, and Aikanáro, huddled next to your aunt. It had been a mercy of Illuvatar to spare your father of this sight.

You didn't know how you would ever face him again. How would you ever tell him about your inaction while your kin were slain? How could you confess that you stood frozen, watching your husband slaughter your uncles and aunts?

Lost in these thoughts, you joined the returning party with the new High King, Arafinwe. The decision was clear. You wouldn't follow those who stained their hands with your kin's blood.

That was what you thought before your eyes landed on Ektelion. In your mind, he too was to return with you. You both would return with Findarato and the others, beg for the Valar's and the Teleri's forgiveness.

 There had to be some way to make amends. Your presence and Ektelion's would be needed at Alqualonde. You could help rebuild…your father would need you by his side. Findarato could aid at Lorien. Yes, this would mend things for the best. Supporting your aunt, you planned everything, ready to bring it up to your uncle.

Yet, your brother was nowhere to be found near Aunty Earwen or the retreating faction of the Noldor. You searched for him, a sudden dread gripping your heart. He had been safe before, his sword unmarked by the violence on the shores.

And when your eyes found him, it wasn't your brother you saw, but a soldier. Standing next to the looming figure of Turukano was Ektelion, not by your side, but by his lord. Duty had proven stronger than the bond of your marriage to Findekano.

So it was with Findarato, Artanis, Angaráto, and Aikanáro. Your cousins, your brother, and the love of your life stood opposite the retreating party you had joined. A declaration that rang loud to your dismayed aunt, the grieving Teleri, and the new High King. The Noldor were no longer a united front.

The shores of Alqualonde became a chasm, splitting them into those under Arafinwe's leadership on one end and Curufinwe's on the other. 

Ages later, the question would still haunt you: what if you had walked the path back home? It would have saved many, the misery of your wretched fate.

Turukano perhaps would have led a life with Elenwe by his side. Itarillë would have grown up with a mother. Findekano would not have died with a heart of stone.

But this was your misery. Your redemption. To mull over the what-ifs. It was the price to be paid for your greed. Your selfish love that drove you to the lands that once doomed your ancestors.

[thefudge]

just letting you know those kind of friends updated... the last chapter

i know!! i saw!! i was on holiday abroad and literally had to rush into a cafe with decent wifi so i could read this chapter and CURSE THE GODS because of the unbearable angsssst. like, it was a great ending and i loved the FP twist and how everything was tied together and veronica's choices make absolute sense, but i'm still so mad that our girl has to go through this pain again. i know it was necessary but :(((

anyway, gabi will heal us in the sequel, which i am waiting for like it's the second coming 🙏

[secretwhumplair]

Oops

1,495 words | Royal arms (sequel to Waiting)

Content | Captivity, conditioning, fear of punishment, implied pet whump, angsssst

Notes | Nelisa and Lint are both so brave in this. The pertinent part is from Lint's POV and he's very busy with himself, so I feel obliged on Nelisa's behalf to point out she started her career as a scullery maid with no prospects and is talking to a literal king.

So much of this entire situation would be improved if Idalis and Arracen would just stop assuming the absolute worst of each other lol. I debated not posting this before Arracen's next part all the better to wallow in angsty ignorance with him, but I have faith in your sympathetic abilities^^

Taglist | @whumpy-writings @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @newbornwhumperfly @nicolepascaline @thegreatwhodini @neverthelass @wolfeyedwitch @onlybadendings @quietshae @whumpcreations @whumpydaydreams @whumpsy-daisy @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @kixngiggles @tears-and-lilies @melancholy-in-the-morning @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whump-cravings

Idalis didn’t think he would ever tire of the sweet taste of victory. The rush of the battle alone was worth it, really, but victory - ah, he could bask in it forever.

This one had only been a matter of time. Endalsgard was a small country, and while Arracen had put up a decently brave fight, he must have known he never really stood a chance.

They were on their way to the capital now, the former king captive and carefully separated from his generals. Now that the excitement of the battle had mostly worn off, Idalis would have felt bad for putting his sword to Arracen’s throat just to see the fear in his eyes, but, he reminded himself, there was no reason to.

He kept a human as a pet.

It was one step up from a weapon, Idalis supposed, but it was not good enough.

The rumours weren’t wholly unequivocal on the matter - some said he had taken the pet from Thobrinos to free him. But Idalis wasn’t naive enough to believe that. Clearly, his people wanted to think the best of Arracen, but soon they would see him for what he was, Idalis would make sure of it.

The next day, the exhilaration of victory had been wholly replaced by sore muscles and the dreary task ahead: rearrange the court and government, accept the loyalty of those who would offer it, decide what to do with those who wouldn’t.

Cassio had a half-smirk on his lips when, after a long day, he accompanied him back up to the King’s suite, where he had made himself comfortable. The rooms would need redecorating, too; Arracen’s taste wasn’t much of anything, even bad, just terribly dull. Maybe he was playing at modesty.

It hadn’t even been a particularly successful day. Arracen’s court wasn’t unreasonable, but they were loyal, and even those who were willing to be pragmatic about this warned that the people loved their former king.

»You hate this part, don’t you?«

»I’m glad for your help,« Idalis growled irritably, unwilling to admit it was just so. This was a part of being a king, being a ruler, and he would not let himself be called a bad one for disliking it.

»There’s one more thing.«

»Ugh.« Idalis was just about ready to drop himself into what had been Arracen’s bed, preferably together with Cassio, and forget all this for a few hours. Instead, he straightened himself. No one could say he wasn’t taking his duties seriously. »What is it?«

»Arracen’s… hm. Lovers. The two he put up in the consort’s rooms. One of them is the pet, I hear.«

»Oh! The pet. Of course.« It was a testament to how worn out he was, Idalis thought, that this had actually slipped his mind. The whole reason he had Arracen dishonourably thrown into the dungeons instead of even considering negotiations.

Compared to most of the day’s proceedings, it was downright invigorating. Surely the poor thing was frightened, with his »master« gone and possibly no one to take care of him.

»Let’s go then.«

»Maybe take a guard?« Cassio proposed in exasperated tones. »We don’t know what they might be capable of.«

Exasperated, but fond - there was no mistaking it. Idalis threw him his smile, and called upon the guards.

The fact that Cassio had spoken of two people only really registered when they already walked into the consort’s quarters.

They were sitting together by the window, holding hands, although the woman immediately got up when they entered, and let the man’s hand slip with the movement. He followed her example, his eyes wide.

There was no doubt which of the two was the pet. There was a practiced elegance to the man’s movements, with an air of submission that was hard to pinpoint, perhaps in the tilt of his head or the hint of a ghostly smile when there was no reason for one.

Deference was only right, of course, when dealing with their new king, but there was something more unsettling underneath it.

And the woman - well, she didn’t show none, she dropped into a brief bow, and she was certainly frightened, but at the same time she seemed to be steeling herself as if for a fight.

»Good evening.« Idalis eyed her curiously - she was reasonably fine-looking, but not something that would have caught a princes’ eye on its own, so he wondered what her hidden qualities must be.

Nonetheless, he was here for the pet, so he would handle her quickly and move on. »You are Arracen’s lover, then?«

She hesitated noticeably before she replied, »Yes, your Majesty.« She had a strong Skalasian accent; she, too, must have been taken from Thobrinos’ when Arracen left there. »My name is Nelisa. This is Lint.«

Lint. As if that were a name. Vicious fury caught in his throat, but for the benefit of the pet, he kept it down. He would have time to deal with the woman later - and with Arracen. »You’re the pet,« he said gently, preparing to present him with the fact it wasn’t so.

After Ainsel, he wasn’t expecting him to believe it at once, but-

* Lint could feel his heart freeze up, could feel muscle memory relax to show none of his discomfort, could feel a smile tug at his lips to protect him.

»No,« he whispered, his hands trembling too hard not to be noticeable - he was being so bad, a voice from the depths of his mind, fought down but never quite vanquished, said - but Arracen - Nelisa too - but given the givens, he especially owed it to Arracen. »No, I’m not a pet.«

He was so, so bad. He would be punished, he knew it, and gruesomely, and that would be right. This would have been one thing to say to Arracen or Nelisa - though even that thought seemed alien right now - but to this stranger, who, moreover, had already told him otherwise? He was lying, he was talking back, he was so bad.

Arracen had stolen him, it wasn’t true, he was a pet and he was being bad, and Arracen had been defeated and wasn’t here to protect him-

»No!«

He almost fliched at Nelisa’s voice. She rarely raised her voice, and right now? She had bowed to this man. Rationality hammering at the borders of his thoughts, he knew they had talked about how scary this all was, and this was the man - king - who was the reason.

Yet she spoke up; even her hastily tacked on »your Majesty,« could not take away from that.

»He is not a pet.«

He was so relieved to hear it from someone else’s mouth. He couldn’t say those things, but Nelisa, being human, was allowed.

He was human too. That was what this was all about. He was human too, and he had to remember it.

»Really?« The new king cocked his head and sized him up. »I heard that Arracen kept a pet, and you seem an awful lot like one.«

»I - I was, your Majesty.« His voice trembled like the way it never should, unless his master - it trembled an awful lot. Still, this was easier to say than the other thing. At least he acknowledged the past. »He brought me here. Arracen, I mean.«

»He took us with him when he left Skalasia.« He was glad Nelisa took over the talking. »He did not want Lint to - continue living like that.« Then she stepped forward, and fell on her knees. »Please don’t undo that, your Majesty. Take me if you must.«

Lint’s heart seemed to stop. »No - Nelisa-«

The king’s eyes flitted between them. He seemed very much like a mere human in that moment. »You’re not a pet.«

Lint shook his head. He couldn’t say it again, even after Nelisa offered herself up to save him, and he did not feel like a very good human, either.

The king spread his hands. »Well, shit.«

The lips of the man next to him - the famous Cassio, Lint presumed - twitched. »How would you like to proceed, my king?«

»Are arrangements such that you are taken care of?« The king seemed genuinely upset, and Lint could not pinpoint why. It wasn’t the sort of upset he would have expected from him being such a bad - no, refusing to be a pet.

He shivered at the thought.

»Yes, your Majesty,« Nelisa answered, sounding as confused as Lint felt.

»Very well. Stay here. You are not to leave the castle until I decide what to do with you.«

»Yes, your Majesty,« Nelisa repeated, but the king had already turned and was storming off, followed by his entourage.

The moment the door closed behind them, Nelisa rushed to Lint and pulled him into her arms.

He melted into her embrace. His heart still raced. A part of him wanted to hear he had done good, but he didn’t need to; he didn’t.

He was not a pet.

[stonedregulus]

Hey! So, I’ve read all the wolfstar fics that you’ve recommended so far and we have the same taste. :) I’m wondering if you have any more? Thanks!

i definitely have more fic recs for you. :)

1) good old fashioned lover boy

@evermoreremus is a fucking genius. professor r j lupin returns. sirius becomes professor black. wolfstar raising teenage harry. i'm over simplifying because i don't want to ruin it for you. I LOVE THIS FIC, I LOVE IT SO MUCH. lots of wolfstar fluff and some angsssst?

(rating: T - status: complete)

2) more than three words

another @lumosinlove piece! sirius cheats on remus. this is honestly just pain and if you're a masochist like me, you'll love it.

(rating: not rated - status: complete)

3) a taste of honey

@biremus combined two of my favorite things: the marauders and the great british bake off (the great british baking show for my fellow americans who are confused). this was so fucking cute and fluffy. there's some angst but its fairly minor(read the tws). i feel like this is a really good one to read if you've just read something that broke you (see fic rec 2) and you need happy back in your life.

(rating: M - status: complete)

4) we were infinite

from @wewereinfinitelywolfstar. this was the first wolfstar fic i ever read. I LOVE IT. its a long ass fic(currently at 107 chapters) slow burn. ANGST, SMUT, and some fluff. its better than atyd (don't fucking come after me okay its my opinion). i've reread this about 50 times now thats how much i love it.

(rating: M - status: incomplete)

5) relic keel

@lumosinlove back at it again with her stellar writing. this is an island au. it kind of has an outer banks feel? but not? i have no idea how to explain this but its fucking good and totally different from any other wolfstar content i've seen so far. lots of angst, you also get some jily, dorlene, and o'kuntzy (which are haz's ocs and I LOVE THEM)

(rating: M - status: incomplete)

6) waves of magic

this is from @xivz. only 3 chapters so a quick read, modern/non-magical au, partial texting fic. reg asks sirius to come home for christmas and remus doesn't let him go alone. agh this is sad and cute and there's smut so there you go.

(rating: E - status: complete)

7) no mum, he really is my boyfriend

fake relationship fic. smut smut smut angst angst angst. also lily is a terrifying pregnant lady and i love that for her.

(rating: E - status: complete)

8) solntse

guess i'm in the mood to hype hazel(@lumosinlove) today, huh? sirius is a russian billionaire. remus is a part time call boy. there is angst and pain and some fluff and smutttttttt. i mean what did you expect when i said remus is a call boy?

(rating: E - status: complete)

9) clandestine

SPY AU?!?! soooo this is not strictly wolfstar... in fact wolfstar is more in the background here however ITS SO GOOD. it's mostly o'kuntzy, i don't feel like you have to have read sweater weather/coast to coast to understand this, and wolfstar is still there i promise okay i'm not totally hijacing this post for this fic, okay maybe i am but just go read it, okay? i binged all 14 chapters in 4 hours today. @heyitssmiller is amazing!

(rating: not rated - status: complete)

(also, if you don’t know, @wolfstarlibrarian has basically a million fic recs for wolfstar. it’s actually a legit operation… unlike me where i just say things like ‘this is fucking good i cried’ and then spam you with random other shit 😅)

bonus round: look, not to suck my own dick or anything, but if you enjoy long fics and slow burns, check out it doesn't change anything. it will cover the marauders time through hogwarts, and the first & second wars with voldemort. (rating: M - status: incomplete)

[obesericewrites]

I want more angsssst, so.

Ok, but ROs reactions to an MC who after the bug bite incident is behaving a little distant and cold towards the ROs cuz the ROs jumping to conclusions hurt MC feelings 😏😏😏

M: In the beginning, M wouldn’t understand why you are being so cold to them. They would try to put things together. Just to come short. M asks you bluntly why you are being so cold to them. When you explain the situation… they’d somewhat understand.

They’d give you a few days before they start trying to kiss up to you.

S: Would return your attitude tenfold. The way S was brought up, they learned to let go of things quickly. Though when someone uses their mistakes against them and is cold to them, S taught themselves to mimic the attitude. Which causes the both of you to grow more distant, despite how much S hates it, they won’t say a word.

It would be up to you to finally talk to their stubborn arse.

B: It would definitely sting. Though they’d understand you completely and give you the space you need. B is the type of person who would let you cool off for a few days, but if you yourself start getting more distant then their comfortable with. They’ll step in and have a sit down talk with you.

If you say you just need time, they have all the time in the world to give you.

[breanime]

*get ready for some angsssst!*

"EZ," Angel shouted, following his younger brother as he stomped away, "EZ, hold up! Ezekiel!"

EZ stopped, his entire body radiating with rage. He didn't turn around, so Angel jogged over to him, standing in front of him. "Hey, hey," Angel said, breathing hard, "EZ, calm down. Talk to me, man. What the hell happened?"

EZ's fists were balled at his sides, his chest heaving. He'd never felt such anger, such hatred before in his life, not even when he first found out that Happy killed his Mom. But now? The hatred swirled in his chest, an inferno intent on burning him up.

And the object of his hate?

His own damn self.

"She was with another man," EZ answered, eyes cloudy, "I was supposed to come three hours ago to pick up my shit, but then the shit with the club, and then Emily stopped by..."

"Jesus," Angel groaned; Emily and the club had both been huge factors in your breakup, and the fact that Emily was still circling around his brother had him rolling his eyes.

"...I used my key," EZ went on, "Her car was out front, I didn't know she had company, she must have taken him home from a bar or some shit," he looked at Angel, his eyes wet, "I walked in, and he was..." His fists flexed at his sides. "...He was on top of her, they were half-dressed... I freaked, started punching him, fuck, Angel, I wanted to kill him."

"Well yeah."

"No," EZ looked over at his brother, "You don't get it--this wasn't his fault. It was mine. I pushed her away, I lied to her, I kept her out of the loop. This pain, this fucking heart ache I feel right now, Angel--this shit I've earned," he pulled at his kutte, "I chose to patch in, I chose to help Em, chose to lie to Y/N," he shook his head, disgusted with himself, "I had no fucking right to barge in like that, to beat that guy up--but Angel, when I did it... It felt good. Felt right," he scoffed, "I'm a fucking animal, man. And she's deserves better than that."

Angel had nothing to say; he hated seeing EZ like this, and even more--he hated the fact that he was right.

"All this time, I've been running from this rage," EZ went on, "Since I was a kid, before Mom died, I had this in me, and I tried to run from it, tried to push it down, but I see now that it was pointless. This is who I am. I never deserved Y/N, and I never will. This is who I am. I'm an animal and a killer. And I need to just let her go." He stopped, taking one last look at your place. He could see you through the window, pressing an ice pack to your lover's bruised and bloody face. He nodded, letting that bubble of rage and self-hatred burst inside of his chest. "Come on, Angel...

...let's get back to work."

[limelocked]

yall out here doing techno dirty during the festival making him a stone faced killer and going “but its the angsssst” you FOOL you absolute BAFOON

imagine instead the following; techno staring tubbo in the eye saying “you want to leave” while stalling for time with the dumbest bit and tubbo just blankly stares back, techno is nervous and hasnt gotten any information about the plan, its unsure if he even knows that the place is going to get blown up, he is shaking, he didnt want to go up on stage for a speech let alone a murder

schlatt makes the intentions clear, that techno needs to kill tubbo and behind him a panning shot upwards of the crowd of people He Has Not Trusted from the beginning, he has ran from eret and bad even though they have express intent to help him and now behind him stands a dozen people ready to gang up on him not to mention quackity to his right

techno is good at killing yes but he is not that good, he doesnt know what else to do, and so with a shacking breath he says sorry to tubbo and tries to make the death quick

he thinks he’s done the right thing, manburg didnt blow up and a lot of people are dead, if he knows about the plan this is the best that wilbur will get and if he doesnt then this is mania, he comes back and when wilbur is putting himself in danger he protects him as best as he can, he stays behind when everything goes down and shows just the mess that would happen if he hadnt killed tubbo in the first place

then he comes back to pogtopia proud of his work of protecting wil and killing the enemy only to be accused and realize that this wasnt what he shouldve done, the peer preasure turns into cramping walls of anxiety over his mistakes and to his surprise, wilbur welcomes him in still, his friend doesnt abandon him, and tubbo argues in his favour because both of them were on the stage and both of them understand

and still he’s made to fight in the pit and in tommys story he becomes the villain because even if tubbo understands and forgives his actions, tommy wont, and if you’re thinking in terms of sbi being actual brothers well

im just saying theres a lot of angst unused in the technoblade side of things

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 4,705 Dean x Reader Summary: Bobby hatches a plan to try to get you and Dean to reconcile after months apart. Warnings: None! A/N: Angsssst and then a happy ending. What more could one ask for?

Your name: submit What is this?

Dean turned when he heard a car door slamming across the yard and he immediately recognized the vehicle. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin and glared at Bobby, who was clearly pretending he hadn’t noticed your arrival and was making himself busy flipping the burgers on the grill.

“Bobby? Are you kidding me?”

Bobby glanced over at Dean carelessly. “What?”

“You called her? Really?” You were making your way up to the house and Dean thought your posture looked stiff.

“Oh, calm down, son. Not everything revolves around you. I lent her some gear and she’s just bringing it back.”

Dean chewed his bottom lip and glared at the back of Bobby’s head. “Uh huh. Uh huh, she just happens to be bringing it back the day I show up here with Sam.”

Bobby smirked to himself. “I don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist but it seems like maybe you have some unresolved issues to deal with…”

“Bobby,” Dean growled.

He finally turned and vehemently pointed at Dean with the spatula. “No. Now you listen to me. You two idjits belong together and everyone knows it. Figure it out!” he spat, before casually turning back around to the grill.

Your boot scuffing on the gravel finally forced him and Bobby to turn. You had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to crash the barbeque. You didn’t tell me you had company,” you said pointedly to Bobby. Dean thought he saw you swallow hard and you looked about as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Must have slipped my mind,” Bobby said, giving you a tight smile.

“Mhmm… I’m sure,” you said. You dropped the duffel bag with a heavy thud onto the porch and couldn’t keep your eyes from landing on him any longer—Dean was standing there with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and although it had been quite a long time since you had seen him, the expression on his face was one you still could readily decode. He was supremely uncomfortable. Bobby was looking back and forth between the two of you but finally turned back to the grill. You were about to open your mouth to say something when the front door swung open and Sam wandered out. He had a novel in one hand and an apple in the other and the slam of the screen door matched perfectly with the struck expression of surprise on his face to see you standing there so unexpectedly. The next moment he was grinning at you and before you could say anything he had you wrapped in a big bear hug, squeezing you tight enough that a little exhaled “Oof!” escaped your lips.

“Y/N! I didn’t—Bobby didn’t tell us—it’s so great to see you!” he said drawing back and taking you in, looking you over. His expression was so open and earnest and warm, just as you remembered, that you couldn’t help smiling back at him despite your annoyance at Bobby’s obvious scheming and the residual anger you felt toward Dean, with a heaping side of discomfort.

“Yeah, well Bobby forgot to mention you’d be here, too,” you said. Sam could hear the edge of tension in your voice and the swell of happiness he had on seeing you began to sink as he glanced over at Dean, trying to read his older brother’s mood. Dean was avoiding looking at you, mainly staring down at his boots.

An uncomfortable silence settled until you cleared your throat awkwardly and picked up the duffel bag again. “Well, I guess I’ll just go dump your gear in the house, Bobby, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“What? No! Y/N, you can’t leave. We haven’t seen you in forever,” Sam pleaded.

Bobby was pulling the last burger off the grill and he looked over at you with an obnoxious little uptick at one corner of his mouth. “I already counted you in for dinner so you have to stay or it’ll go to waste.”

You gave him a knowing look. “Go to waste? You’ve got a fridge. And two giant men visiting. It’ll get eaten or keep just fine…”

“Y/N, you can’t leave,” Sam said again. You made the mistake of meeting his eyes and goddammit, you didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose but those fucking puppy eyes. You couldn’t say no to that expression.

You sighed heavily and passed a hand over your brow, shaking your head a little at yourself for what you were about to agree to. “Alright… I’ll stay for dinner, but that’s it!” you said, vehemently pointing at Sam, who grinned triumphantly.

“Good. Now get on in the house. Sam’s already got the table ready, so we’ll just set an extra place. Dean—” Bobby held the laden burger plate out to him. “Take this in. I’ll be there in a minute. I’m just gonna clean off the grill.”

“Uhh… alright,” Dean said begrudgingly. He followed you and Sam into the house, his apprehension growing. He wanted more than anything to let his eyes wander over you there in front of him, in the flesh, not just some image conjured in his mind late at night when he couldn’t quite drown out his regrets with whiskey or blaring rock music.

“Beer?” Sam asked, opening the fridge.

You heard footsteps behind you and turned, meeting Dean’s striking green eyes for the first time and awkwardly sidestepping out of his way so he could get to the table. He tore his eyes from yours quickly and you felt that familiar twist in your stomach. “Umm, got anything stronger?” you asked, with a wry laugh.

“Stronger?” Sam repeated. “This is Bobby’s house,” he said, walking across the kitchen and opening up a cabinet which was stocked with liquor. “What can I get you?” Sam asked.

“Rye whiskey, neat.” You and Dean had both said it at the same time and your mouth fell slightly open in surprise. He was straightening up from setting down the tray of burgers and this time when he met your eyes he didn’t pull them away.

He smoothed a hand down his shirt and you thought you saw the muscle in his jaw tense. “Sorry,” he murmured.

You just vaguely shook your head. It was the first time he’d really spoken since you had arrived and it was to recite your drink choice as if he had been sitting next to you sipping them in the evening in front of a log fire just the day before. In reality it had been months and months and months since you had even spoken to each other.

Sam watched the extended gaze between the two of you, the air in the room feeling thicker by the second and he thought about making some excuse to leave, but Bobby was expected in at any moment anyway so he cleared his throat and busied himself with a glass and the whiskey. “Comin’ right up.”

“Umm—” Your eyes were still connected with Dean’s and he was finding it hard to look anywhere else now that he had started studying you. “I’m just gonna—jacket…” Dean said, starting to take off his coat and heading out of the kitchen toward the front room. You didn’t want to admit it but just the sound of his voice, deep and somewhat gruff, was threatening to make you weak at the knees. It conjured images in your mind of lost times that were both precious but also now profoundly painful now that they had passed.

When Sam next looked up, you were standing stock straight in the middle of the room, staring in the direction Dean had gone with a queer expression on your face. It was questioning and a bit sad, but Sam noted that there was no hostility. “Here you go,” he said, breaking the spell you seemed to be under and handing you a small tumbler with your drink.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, accepting it gratefully from him and immediately taking a big gulp.

Sam’s brow furrowed slightly. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” you asked in surprise. You constructed the most casual expression you could and shrugged. “Yeah. Fine. Just… I don’t know what the hell Bobby was thinking—”

“Well, you could ask me yourself,” he said, rushing into the kitchen.

“Good. Fine. What the hell do you think this is going to accomplish?” you asked him in a hurried undertone.

“What? Dinner? Well, I think we’ll all be a bit less hungry at the end of it,” he said, clearly snarky on purpose.

You shut your eyes and gritted your teeth against the wave of annoyance. “You know that isn’t what I mean.”

Bobby sank into the chair at the head of the table. “Dean! Get your hide in here! Time to eat!” He turned his eyes to you again. “Y/N, are you going to join us or are you just—going to run away? Again.” He knew what he was saying. He knew that would get you fired up. And it did. You opened your mouth to argue, feeling another swell of exasperation rising up inside you but Dean was breezing into the kitchen again and taking a seat at the table, leaving the only empty chair the one right between him and Bobby. You felt like the wind just went out of your sails and Bobby smirked at you from his seat.

You bit your tongue and sank into the empty chair.

Dinner was composed almost entirely of Sam and Bobby asking questions of you and you and Dean avoiding looking at each other. You answered the queries as succinctly as you could until Sam finally found something to crack open the hard shell you were holding around yourself.

“Y/N, what happened here?” he asked, pointing to his own forehead above his right eyebrow with a vertical slashing motion. “You didn’t have that scar before, did you?”

Dean’s eyes shot over to your face immediately and you actually froze with your glass halfway to your lips, the next moment setting it back down without any thought of a sip. You cleared your throat and pressed your napkin to your lips briefly, almost as an excuse to hide part of your face for a moment as you steeled yourself against the involuntary torrent of residual fear. “No. No, that one is new.” You had sincerely hoped that Sam would allow you to leave it at that but, of course, he didn’t. And you could feel Dean’s eyes drifting over your face and sense his… apprehension? Concern?

“What happened?” Sam asked, his eyes now narrowed a little in genuine concern too.

“Just a hunting souvenir,” you said, trying to manage your tone so it sounded casual. You avoided everyone’s eyes.

Bobby was considering your body language carefully. He was debating about pressing you further. He could see that there was real fear surrounding that memory. Not only did he now want to know what had happened, but he knew this would break down both you and Dean’s constructed walls. What would be better at getting the dialogue going than vulnerability? “What was the monster?” Bobby asked.

You couldn’t avoid such a direct question without it being blatantly obvious. “Vamp nest,” you said, staring down at your plate. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. The familiar tunneling at the edge of your vision warned of a panic attack and you stood up abruptly, the movement emphasized by the groaning of your wooden chair on the floor. “I need some air.” You practically ran out the front door and onto the porch, leaning heavily on the railing and trying to force your heart and lungs to slow. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re fine. Just bad memories.

Inside, Dean was staring down the hallway where you disappeared and Sam and Bobby exchanged a concerned look, both now feeling a little guilty for pressing you. Something had happened on that hunt, more than the usual bumps and bruises.

Dean felt a familiar tightness in the center of his chest and even reached a hand up to absently rub at it to no effect. “Someone should go make sure she’s okay,” he said, turning back around to look at his little brother.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” Sam agreed, but he made no move to get up. Dean’s eyes next landed on Bobby.

“I agree with Sam,” he said pointedly, also stubbornly leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean’s jaw tense and the muscle twitched. “Oh, come on. I can’t—I’m probably the last person she wants to talk to right now,” he growled.

“Well, then I guess we’ll just leave her out there alone,” Bobby said, reaching for his beer. “She’s a grown up. She’s tough. She’ll be fine.” Dean was stubborn, but so was Robert Singer.

Sam was almost ready to cave and go check on you when Dean stood up abruptly, the same groan from his chair mimicking the one yours had made, swearing under his breath. You heard footsteps coming up the hall and the familiar sound of the squeaky screen door and straightened up. You were surprised to see Dean when you turned.

“Oh—” The noise of surprise escaped your lips involuntarily and Dean shrugged in response.

“Yep. It’s me. …sorry,” he said.

Your heart had slowed mostly back to its usual steady pace and you just stared at the older Winchester for a long moment. The silence was awkward, tense, and you found yourself wondering how long it was going to go on.

Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and stole fleeting glances at your expression. He had to clear his throat. Why did it feel so suddenly constricted. “Umm—are you okay? You left kind of suddenly in there?”

“I’m fine.”

He nodded, his lips pressing together in a thin line, the corners turning downward. “Good. …okay.”

You expected him to leave, having done the bare minimum to check on you, but he just went on standing there. So, you just went on waiting… for what felt like an eternity. You had a feeling that he was teetering on the edge of saying something and you gave him an inquisitive look, one of your eyebrows lifting of its own accord.

Finally, his green eyes rose from staring at his boots and landed on your face. He seemed to decide something in that moment. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“… ‘it’?”

“The hunt. How you got that fresh scar?” he asked, inclining his chin and his eyes flashing toward what had obviously been a good gash on your forehead.

You turned away from him again, trying hard to suppress the flash of fear you felt from changing your expression, and leaned on the railing again, looking out over the junkyard. “Not really,” you murmured.

“Not really or just not to me?” he asked. You were a little surprised at his bluntness and turned to look at him again, but you didn’t say anything. You straightened up again and after giving him one last, long look you sighed.

“I, uhh… I think I’m just gonna head out,” you said. “This was—whatever Bobby was thinking, I just—I’m gonna go.”

You could see Dean chewing the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly, his lips pressed together again. When he spoke there was an edge to his voice. “Sure. Go. I guess the good thing is I’m not surprised this time,” he said.

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut and the air rushed out of your lungs like it had been forced. “What?”

“That’s what you do, isn’t it? You run. When things get hard, you leave. How many other people have you left in your wake in the past six months, hmm? And here I am, fucking stupid enough to somehow experience it twice. Well, at least this one is mostly on Bobby.”

You were breathing fast and hard now, anger and hurt boiling in your chest. “I ran? That’s what you think happened? I just—I just up and ran? Dean Winchester is the sole victim.”

“No, I—”

“It couldn’t have had anything to do with the person I cared about more than anything else in this world lying to me, for months, and betraying my trust over and over again. No, that wasn’t it!” Your tone was dangerous and rising in volume along with your anger.

“I never said that I didn’t fuck up!” Dean roared back. “But you didn’t stick around long enough to even try to fix it—so I obviously,” his jaw clenched, “we obviously didn’t mean that much to you if you were able to just go tearing off like you did!”

You stared at him, incensed at his accusation. Your fists were clenched so tight your fingernails were digging into your palms, and you didn’t give a shit that Sam and Bobby could probably hear every single word.

“I couldn’t even get you on the goddamn phone,” Dean said. “You were just gone! Do you know what Sam and I thought? For months, we thought you were going to go barreling into something and get yourself killed, which is what started this whole thing in the first place! And now you show up here with that new scar on your forehead—what the hell have you been doing? A vamp nest? Jesus, Y/N, do you think you’re fucking invincible? You need back up!”

You broke your dangerous silence violently. “I had fucking back up! I had back up!” you yelled, sounding almost desperate. Dean’s anger broke at that exact moment and he watched you turn away from him again, slumping your weight down onto the railing. “I had fucking back up…” you said quietly.

Dean’s mind was whirring and he had a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

You were staring down at your clasped hands. “You really think all I do is run? That’s what you think of me? Well, guess what? I didn’t. My hunter partner, one of my oldest friends, got caught and he tried to tell me to get out and I didn’t. I stayed. And you know what happened? They killed him in front of me and they turned me. I woke up with my head split open and the worst—I somehow managed to fight the bloodlust, murder those sons of bitches, and give myself the cure.” You sighed heavily, hanging your head and shutting your eyes, before straightening up again and looking at Dean. He thought he saw tears starting glisten in your eyes. “So, running or staying, I guess I can’t win.”

Dean was at a loss… He had said so much in hurt, in anger. He felt like a complete jackass. “Y/N, I—”

But you interrupted him and held up a hand. “Just don’t, okay? I don’t want to fight with you, Dean. I’m just… I’m just frickin’ tired. From all of it.” You stepped past him and grasped the screen door handle when he interrupted you again.

“No,” he said suddenly, forcefully. “No. This time I’m not just gonna let you go.” There was a fire suddenly blazing in his green eyes, making it look like the hues in his irises were dancing.

“Let me?”

“That was maybe the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life,” he said. “And I don’t care if you don’t want to fight with me, I want to fight with you. Because I can’t go on like this, pretending that I’ve just moved on and that I’m fine with you not being in my life anymore because I’m not. I have to try. So, let’s fight. And, if at the end of it, you still don’t want anything to do with me, I can—I can try and live with that, because at least I’ll know I tried.”

You peered at him in bewilderment, your hand still on the screen door, but slowly your fingers slipped from it and the glassiness in your eyes returned as you looked at him. “You hurt me so badly—”

“I know. And you’re right about everything you said. I betrayed your trust. I lied to you for months, and the whole time Sam was telling me I was being a fucking idiot, and, God, I hate it when he’s right…” Dean gulped and stepped a little closer to you. He wanted so much to break that space barrier between you, just to touch your arm… just to hold your hand. “And if I could go back and do it over again, I wouldn’t be so insecure and so—so terrified. I would do it all differently. But at least allow me to explain to you—” he sighed in frustration. All his words were trying to come out at once. “I thought that because I was trying to protect you that it was justified. I didn’t—I didn’t—” he let out a frustrated growl at himself, that he couldn’t find the words. “Relationships are a partnership. We were a team. And I went completely against that and I made decisions for me and for you without including you. I see that now. And I’m so, so sorry. But then you just left… you just—” Dean felt like his voice was about to break and stopped. “And that hurt me more than I even allowed myself to realize at the time.”

Your face softened as you looked at him, the evening now wearing on and the diminishing light making his eyes look deeply emerald. Dean watched your lips part a little in a soft frown, saw your shoulders fall a little.

“Everyone leaves,” he said, and in that moment you saw the little kid in him, simply afraid of losing again and again and again. “One way or another everyone leaves and I just—I never thought that it would be you.”

That stung like a hot knife between your lungs and you felt off balance. The silence stretched for a long moment before you broke it with a heavy sigh. “To be fair, neither did I,” you said. You squeezed your eyes shut along with one of your fists. “I was just so angry and so—it was my fight! And you took that away from me. And I can’t get that back. Can you imagine if I had done that to you? What if I had gone off and killed the thing that killed your mom or your dad without you? And had lied about it to you for months?”

“I know,” Dean said, and took a step toward you. “And I’m so sorry.”

You sighed again, feeling like the last of your walls had just come tumbling down, like Dean had pulled one brick out from the bottom and the whole structure collapsed. “Me too.” You realized that, in a way, by leaving as you did you had betrayed his trust in turn.

“Y/N, you have to know that you’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. Every day. Still. Always.”

You felt yourself, your resolve, crumbling further. Dean took another step toward you. “If you don’t feel anything for me anymore, then—please, just tell me right now and I swear I won’t—I won’t bother you again. And I’ll tell Bobby where he can shove his meddling."

You could only gulp nervously and go on looking back at him, the eye contact between the two of you magnetic. You wondered at how earlier in the evening you could barely look at each other and now you couldn’t stop. You felt tears stinging your eyes again and let out a wry laugh, blinking them away. “You’re an idiot,” you said through a teary smile.

Dean stepped a bit closer, his eyes not leaving your face. “I know.”

“This isn’t all just magically fixed—”

“I know,” he said again, his voice now a bit breathy. He was so close you swore you could almost feel the deep timbre in your chest, feel the heat of him, the weight of him.

You stared at him and only had one more second of indecision before you gave in. “Well… kiss me, you idiot.”

Dean didn’t need telling twice. You collided as if you hadn’t spent any time apart. Dean’s arm wrapped around your lower back and his other hand tangled in your hair. The kiss was fierce, insistent and you felt like you were clay softening in a sculptor’s hands. It was blissful to be melting into him again. It felt like you had been underwater for months and were finally able to come up for air. Dean was your air and you drew in deep lungfuls. He deepened the kiss and his hand pressed harder on your lower back, pushing you into him, your body arching against his. He clasped your face and kissed you desperately. Slowly his lips softened on yours and became pleading, gentle, and finally he pulled away slightly and heaved in a deep breath, leaning his forehead against yours, both of you breathless with your eyes closed. Your fingers trailing lightly down his back were familiar and felt like home. Your arm around his neck was comforting, safe. He pulled back so he could look into your eyes and your heart leaped at being able to study his eyes and count the freckles on his nose and cheeks.

“God, I missed you,” he said softly.

You smiled a little at him, still a little overwhelmed. “I missed you.”

His face turned suddenly serious again and he placed a kiss gently on the new scar on your forehead before meeting your eyes again. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that—and I’m—I’m really sorry about your friend.”

Your eyes fell. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Dean’s hands were resting gently on your hips now and you took in another deep breath, just thinking of how much time you had wasted when you should have been right there with him… True, there was work to be done, trust to be repaired, but this felt like someone had just turned on the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Suddenly, hushed voices just inside drew both of your attention and you caught a glimpse of Bobby shouldering Sam out of the way and both of them trying to sneak back up the hallway, rather unsuccessfully.

You laughed and pressed a hand to your forehead. “Oh no…”

Dean gave you a comical look. “This is going to go right to Bobby’s head.”

“He’s going to go on a total power trip,” you agreed.

“Ehh… honestly, I think given the consequences of his actions I’m kind of okay with it.”

You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Dean pulled you in for another kiss before you could set your heels back down…

[too-many-baes]

To Hell and Back

Pairing: fem!reader x Dean Winchester

Warning(s): Injury, death, going to hell, angsssst (but some fluff to make up for it), slight AU, S03-S06

Word Count: 5.2K

Request: Hi! Love your writing! Could you do a dean x fem!reader where she’s Bobby’s daughter, they’ve been dating forever and she went to hell to save the boys. It was a surprise to the boys but she saw it coming so she wrote a note to Dean that he should not try to get her back and go have a normal life with Lisa. Eventually she gets back (somehow - maybe Bobby or Sam or Cas figure something out) and Dean really is with Lisa. You can choose the end - I’d love some fluff. I hope it’s not too specific. - by Anon

A/N: So I played with the timelines here a bit so it may not be exactly what you had envisioned but I hope you enjoy it none-the-less! Thank you for sending in a request!! Masterlist in my bio and requests are open

gif is not mine, credit to [@ jamiedornaniseverything ]

                                                       *********

You sit at the tired old table in your house of Singer’s Auto, you and the Winchesters. None of you make a sound, your collective focus makes speaking unnecessary.

Words begin to bleed into an incoherent mess so you rub your tired eyes in an attempt to revive your vision. Bobby has long since retired for the night, you and the boys persisting.

This has been your position for several weeks. Day in and day out, you can feel your blood cells slowly turning into caffeine in your attempts to keep yourself alert, the rest of the household living in the same coffee induced delirium. None of you felt you could rest until you found the solution you were so desperately searching for, an answer to your prayers.

One single week is all that's left between Dean and hell hounds claiming his soul. You've seen it happen before, the tearing of flesh and anguished cries are not something you'd wish upon anyone, making you all the more desperate to save your boyfriend from that wretched fate. Here you are and here you'll stay until you figure out how to save him. You know if you don't fix this soon it will lead to Sam doing something drastic, and that's not something you can stand for either.

You've known the boys since you were young. Being Bobby Singer's daughter meant if someone was a hunter then your paths had definitely crossed, with the Winchesters your house had always been a revolving door. You were indifferent to the boys when you were young, it wasn't until you were a teenager that you took notice of Dean, much to your father’s initial disappointment. He loved the Winchesters as if they were his own sons but that didn't change the fact he didn't think anyone was good enough for you. Not even the charming, well-meaning Dean Winchester.

The shock of finding out you were dating the eldest of the boys passed eventually and after strict words from your dad you’ve been inseparable since. You've been through thick and thin together, you know everything there is to know about him. This means you know how much the brothers mean to each other and just how far they'll go to ensure the others safety.

You can't see them die for each other, you don't care how many sleepless nights it'll take.

You have successfully claimed Sam's usual role, being the first one to rise and the last to bed. You hadn't even noticed they'd gone to bed when a tapping on your shoulder pulled you out of your trance.

“It’s 2am babe, it'll still be there in the morning.” You look up at Dean's face. His usually bright eyes have lost their signature shine, the lines underneath mountainous, his hair mussed from the few hours of sleep he'd already managed to get.

“I'll be there in a minute.” You answer him with a quick dismissive smile. Dean has other ideas, reaching over and forcibly closing the book cover you couldn’t remove yourself from.

“You need your sleep.” You could have argued, but what would be the point? In a few minutes you would’ve ended up asleep on the pages anyway. You allow Dean to lead you by the hand down the hallway to your room, where you clumsily change before crawling in beside his almost already sleeping form. In his half there state he instinctually reaches out to circle his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

Typically you and Dean weren't really cuddler's, but after finding out your days together could be numbered that changed. Now every night you sleep something like this, as close as possible, not wanting to waste your precious moments alone. He mumbles a barely audible ‘I love you’ before his faint snores rumble on your neck.

“I love you too.” You say it to yourself, knowing he was past hearing. You love him more than you thought you'd ever love a man, it was because of that the seed of an idea you'd read weeks ago had been sprouting ever since. You know what has to be done to save him and his brother, despite how much they won’t like it.

***

“They’re coming!” Sam’s frantic yells sound from the front door where he makes his best attempt at holding it closed from the ferocious hounds that claw and leap at its weakening wood.

“Everyone get in the living room!” The three of you run into the salt barricaded room, swiftly followed by Sam. No sooner had he left his post than the doors were flown off their hinges and angry growls could be heard by everyone in the room.

“Can you see ‘em?” Bobby's unusually tentative voice questions, a curt nod from Dean swiftly answers his question.

“There's two of them. There.” He raises his arm to point at the seemingly empty space before them, fear causing his arm to shake and his voice to lose volume.

You take in a grounding breath, assured within yourself you were making the right decision. You spin around to face your father, doing your best to not succumb to the overwhelming emotions pounding in your chest. “I love you dad.” It was rare for you and your father to exchange verbal ‘I love you's’, your love for one another going unspoken usually.

“What are you doing?” His question is gruff and urgent, immediately knowing something was wrong.

“Dean”, you ignore your father and grab the aforementioned by the shoulders, forcing his frantic eyes onto your face, “I love you. Never forget that.”

“Y/N what-" He had no time to finish his sentence, the salt guarding the door blowing away as the sound of growling creeps closer. You push your sleeve up revealing a series of symbols drawn on your skin.

Before the men in the room can process your actions you've unsheathed a knife and cut a long slash along your palm, pressing it against your forearm. The growling ceases momentarily, a false sense of hope for your companions.

“They're gone. I can't see them any more.” The hope that had crept into Dean's eyes vanished when once again snarling growls filled the room.

“What's happening, I thought you said you couldn't see them Dean?” Sam yells in dismay.

“I can”, you manage to croak out as you stare at two creatures more gnarled than anything your nightmares could conjure. If you weren't positive that you'd already earnt yourself a way one ticket downstairs then the black magic you'd found to redirect the hell hounds had solidified your fate.

The men were now frenzied, yelling and screaming for you to run as they scrambled for weapons they knew would do no good. For once you did as instructed. You turned away from the hounds and bolted out of the front door. As you'd planned the beasts were on your heels, they'd have you in their clutches within minutes. As the adrenaline courses through your veins you push yourself to go faster, to get far enough down the road that your demise would be away from the eyes of a room full of people you love.

A series of claws slash across you calf sending you crashing unceremoniously onto the dirt road beneath you. You turn to face your death head on, all teeth, drool, and crimson eyes.

“Y/N!” No. No, you don't want them to see this.

“Leave, please!” Your sentence ends with an agonising howl as claws and teeth set upon you. The pain is unbelievable, hot and searing, making the deafening chorus of cries and pleads from the witnesses to your chosen fate obsolete. Death didn't last as long as you had thought and the life in your eyes had faded as the three voices continue to call out for you.

Bobby is the first one to reach your now lifeless body. He shakes your shoulders, lightly at first, then harder with every time his saying your name goes unanswered. Dean falls to his knees on your unoccupied side, grabbing your limp hand and desperately clinging it in his own as tears fall down his face. Sam stays standing, but barely. None of the men speak, the cruel turn of fate that took you from them stealing away their words.

Dean opens his bedroom door, the emptiness without you there consuming his thoughts. As the usually terse man fights back yet more tears an envelope on his otherwise empty nightstand caught his eye. He hurriedly tears it open when he recognises his name in your handwriting.

Dean,

This is going to be short and sweet, just ‘cause I'm gone doesn't mean I'm about to get sappy.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my plan, you would've stopped me if I had. This was the only option, in time you'll come to see that.

I know you had no time to prepare yourself but I have to ask something of you, my dying wish if you will.

Be happy. That girl Lisa, from Indiana? Go to her. She needs someone, so do you. I reckon that makes you perfect for each other.

Don’t waste your second chance pining over me, I'm gone and I intend to stay that way. Don’t try to bring me back.

I died happy so you could live happy.

Don't let me down Cherry Pie.

Forever yours,

Y/N Singer

As soon as he saw his name on that first line the tears begun to stream down his face. By the end of the letter he was inconsolable, his hands shaking and drops from his eyes blurring some of the words on the page. He quickly dabs away the dots from the page, not wanting to permanently lose any letter from the last token you’d left behind for him.

You had written you’d wanted him to move on, he would do his best. Not tonight, hell not any of the coming nights. They would be reserved for you and only you. Dean was going to drink so much he cried whiskey. He was going to spend every waking hour thinking of you and nothing but. Then, when his eyes finally dried and he could muster the courage to step foot out of the house, that’s when he’d follow your wishes.

***

Flesh burning. Skin cutting. Teeth being removed and hair being torn from your scalp. It’s all you knew, all you thought you’d be resigned to know. Then all of a sudden it was gone, you were there one minute and it was black the next.

You lurch forward, clutching your chest and furiously sucking in as much air as your lungs could handle. You look around, seeing that you have no idea where you are other than in the middle of a wheat field. You know well enough to know that this isn’t some trick of the devil. No, something, somehow has put you back on earth. The thought crosses your mind Dean could have been the culprit, but you dread what something like this would have costed.

As you stand you feel something burning your side, lifting your shirt to find a raised hand print just below your ribs.

“Y/N.” The unfamiliar, gruff voice behind you causes you to jerk your body around, seeing a man in a trench coat with a blue tie.

“Who are you? What am I doing here?”

“My name is Castiel, I’m a friend of the Winchesters.” He needn’t bother answering your second question, hearing he knew Dean and Sam caused your wild thoughts to snap to his attention.

“Are they okay?” It was the only thing you could think to ask, your frazzled head still processing being above ground.

“They’re okay, here” he holds out his hand to you, making your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “I’ll take you to them.” You can’t see a car anywhere near you and you’re completely unsure how he intends to get you to the men as you, for some inexplicable reason, reach out and grab his hand.

For the second time in your very short time on solid ground you’re left dizzy and breathless as you find you are once again not where you were before. This time though your surroundings are familiar, causing a happy gasp to leave your mouth and your hands to shoot up and cover it.

You’re back at the only place you’ve ever called home, Singer’s Auto.

“Y/N?” Sam’s all too familiar voice sounds from the kitchen, a smile stretching infinitely across your face as the taller Winchester rushes to wrap his arms around you while desperately calling for Bobby to join you in the living room. You exchange happy, disbelieving words as Bobby makes his entrance.

“What are you yelling about idjit, I was busy-Y/N.” His sentence falls short when he sees his presumed dead daughter. Sam has only ever seen Bobby cry once before, that awful night they’d lost you, but now as he races to hold his daughter he thought he’d never see again his tears glisten under the yellow light of the cheap bulb.

“Hey dad.” You’re both laughing and crying at the same time, overjoyed and overwhelmed by this strange turn of events.

“Castiel”, Sam questions as you finally release your father from your grip, “what did you do?”

“Actually just while we’re asking questions, what exactly are you?” No human man could have pulled you from hell and taken you to the auto shop and since you were fairly certain this man was no demon you were stumped.

“I’m an angel of the lord and I got you out of hell.” You look around the room trying to pick whether it was Sam or your father who had made some kind of deal but the lack of guilt and knowing on their faces tells that neither one had plotted to raise you from the fiery pits.

“Neither of you did this?” The shaking of their heads confirms your deductions. “Goddamn it, Dean”, you mutter.

“He played no part, it was just me.” Castiel’s statement shocks you.

“Why? I don’t know you, why would you do that?”

“Dean hasn’t been hunting for years and somethings come up we need his help with. We need Dean’s help and they refused to do anything about it. I knew my presence wouldn’t be enough to get him back and I recalled him speaking of you fondly and thought you would be able to help.”

“How could you Cas?” Sam speaks in irritation with the angel. “Dean got out, he deserves to stay out.”

“He did?” The bickering stops when you speak your hopeful question. “Dean got out?” Sam nods, an almost nostalgic look on his face.

“Yea Y/N, Dean got out.” You smile along with him, your chest lightening at the knowledge that the stubborn man had paid attention to the letter you left. As you think your smile wavers when you register something is Cas’ prior sentence. “Hang on Castiel, did you say he hasn’t hunted in years?” You let out a small humourless laugh, “How long have I been in hell?” The men previously in your life struggle to find words to say, so the angel who you’re learning is rather bad with social cues speaks.

“Three and a half years I believe.” Three and a half years. Time feels endless down in the pit, never-ending but entirely still at the same time. Five minutes or fifty years could have passed and you’d have been none the wiser, but being back now after three years? Dean was out and happy, you didn’t want to jeopardise that.

“How selfish can you be?” You bite at your angel acquaintance.

“Y/N, he was only trying to help.”

“No dad, I don’t care what he was trying to do!” You yell at your well-meaning father, “He doesn’t even know me and he brought me back to get Dean back into the hunting life? You may as well put me back in the ground ‘cause I’m not doing it.”

“That’s enough!” Bobby’s raised voice makes every pair of eyes land on him, his looking directly at you. “He may not have done it for the right reasons but you’re back, and that can only be a good thing, do not argue with me”, he adds as you open your mouth to object, letting it fall back shut at his request. “I never thought I’d see you again, so quit whining.” You can’t help but laugh seeing that the years have done nothing to change your dad’s temperament.

“It’s good to see you too”, you tease, lightening the mood of the room.

***

It’s been a fortnight, a whole two weeks above ground and you’re still getting used to it. You made everyone swear that they would not mention to Dean you were back and instructed Castiel he’d have to find another ploy to get him to help.

You were happy Dean was happy, yet despite the fact you’d made everyone swear to keep your existence a secret you couldn’t help putting that all at risk. You had to see him, to see for yourself the Dean that wasn’t a hunter. You wanted to see that cheeky grin and those entrancing green eyes that used to make your heart skip a beat. You wanted to see him out and happy.

So here you are, inconspicuously parked outside his house for the third morning in a row in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him. So far you had seen Lisa and her son Ben previous mornings, but no sign of Dean.

The front door opens and your mouth dries up with what walks out. It’s Dean in the flesh, still flannel clad and handsome as ever. He walks hand in hand with Lisa as Ben trudges behind them. He pecks her lightly on the lips before she and the kid get in the car, Dean giving them a small wave. No amount of happiness for him could have stopped the pang of jealousy you felt at seeing Dean in his apple pie life that you weren’t fortunate enough to be in.

Yes, he’s living the exact life you’d told him to live, but when you’d written that letter you planned on not being around to see it. You shake your head at your stupidity and selfishness in coming here and you turn the key in the ignition ready to drive off. You’ve indulged yourself more than enough, watching any longer would just cause you unnecessary pain.

You allow yourself one last lingering look at what used to be your man before you pull away to find his eyes surveying your parked car from across the street, your heart leaping into your throat at the danger of getting caught. You tug your baseball cap further down your face before pulling out and speeding away, all notion of stealth lost.

“Shit, shit, shit”, you curse to yourself for your idiocy. Any longer and he may have recognised you, then what? You’d cry, you’d hug, and you’d get back together? You’d ask him to leave the family you asked him to start in the first place? No. You couldn’t put him through that.

Back at the motel you pack your bags, resolute to go back home. You had no idea what you’d do once you were there, you figured you’d start hunting again, help Sammy. After today though you’d leave Dean behind you, once and for all.

A rapping on the door halts your footsteps, freezing your hands from closing your bag.

“Hello?” Shit. That’s Dean, what is he doing outside your room? He repeats himself once more before you hear the distinct sound of him trying to pick your lock. You move fast, thankful for the fact that you’d kept the room’s curtain shut as you desperately search for a way out on the other side. He’s quicker than you though, the door flying open and a gun cocking sounding behind you.

“Hands up, don’t move.” You follow his orders, hands raising above your head. “Turn around.” You don’t want him to see your face, opting to shake your head instead of reveal yourself to him. “I’m the one with a gun pointing at you so if you wanna stay alive I’d turn around.” You know he’s not lying, having seen people call his bluff too many times before. You comply but as slowly as possible, shuffling your feet until you finally face him, keeping your head down in the vain attempt the small action would keep his recollection at bay.

“Y/N?” His question sounds unsure but you know the inevitable has happened, raising your head to meet his eyes.

“Surprise?” You say, turning your hands upwards to gesture shrugging your shoulders. He holsters his gun immediately, never taking his eyes off of your form. You don’t know what to do next as marked by your silence, and his next move you cannot fathom.

“How did you get here?”

“You have your winged pal to thank for that.”

“Castiel?” The stunned tone of his voice shows you he’s as confused as you were by the whole thing.

“How’d you find me here Dean?” You question after a long pause.

“You weren’t exactly subtle at my house this morning.” The normalcy of the conversation you’re having sets you on edge, not wanting to sink into familiar habits of jokes and jabs, afraid of what that could lead to.

“I better go, it was good to see you.” You state abruptly as you awkwardly grab your bag and make to walk past him and out the front door. His strong hand around your forearm prevents you from leaving.

“What just like that you’re going to walk out the door?” You answer his incredulous question with a nod of your head and a perplexed look in your eyes. He shakes his head reaching and grabbing your other forearm so you are locked in front of his frame. “So what, I don’t get to say goodbye and now you won’t let me again?” There’s no malice to be heard, his voice soft and fragile. This does nothing to stop the guilt bubbling in your stomach.

“Dean it wasn’t like that-”

“No Y/N it’s exactly like that.” He lets the silence speak for itself before continuing. “I lost you with no notice, now you’re back with no notice. You can’t just up and leave again.” You were trying to be fair to him and stay unnoticed, now that you’ve been caught you know he’s right, you can’t just simply leave him again with no warning. He suggests you get a bite to eat, to which you instead offer going to a bar which he gladly accepts.

He insists you drive together, you suspect he was afraid if you went separately you may have driven off. You get a table at the closest bar which happens to be nearly completely empty, as to be expected midday in the middle of the week. Dean gets you a beer each, placing yours in front of you as he sits on the other side of the table.

What you thought would be a brief awkward catch up was anything but. Beer after beer is consumed as he regales stories of being a father figure, making your sides split when he recounts a particular story of trying to get in the good books of the PTA. You gave a very brief explanation of your time downstairs, leaving out pretty much every significant detail to save Dean from the guilt you know he’d project on himself. The whole time it feels like you never left. Every time your eyes catch it gets harder to look away and the light brushes of his fingers as he passes you another bottle sends shivers running up your spine.

After a particularly boisterous fit of laughter dies down you offer to get another round. Just as you go to stand Dean’s phone ringing on the table with the name ‘Lisa’ on the screen stops you.

“Hey. No sorry ran into an old friend, I won’t be too much longer. Mhmm, you too.” He speaks with large pauses in between and although you couldn’t hear the whole conversation you heard enough to bring reality back into your view.

“I should let you get back Dean.”

“What? C’mon you were just about to get another round”, he light-heartedly argues to which you shake your head.

“I should hit the road now anyway, otherwise it’ll be too dark.” Your numerous late nights on the road together makes your excuse a weak one. He complies with a dejected nod regardless, pulling out his keys. The drive is quiet, the low hum of classic rock filling the car. He reaches your motel and you thank him for the day as you unbuckle your safety belt, your other hand already reaching for the door. He reaches out and grabs your closest hand, bringing your eyes down to the small gesture.

“Don’t go.” He voice is small, weak. Words you would usually never associate with your Dean. You let out a breathy scoff at his request.

“Why not Dean, what would I do? You’re happy here with your family-”

“Hey you told me to do that.” His grip on your hand tightens slightly with the raising of his voice in defence of himself.

“I know”, you say gently to acknowledge his rebuttal, “I know I did and I meant. I’m not going to take that away from you now.” You meet his juniper eyes but do not linger in worry of them weakening your resolve. You click the handle open, lightly pushing the door and letting the now cool breeze drift past your face.

“If you hadn’t been taken from me I wouldn’t have chosen this life.” His tone is imploring, almost pleading with you.

“So enjoy it now you have it.” You release the handle so you can lean in enough to cup his cheek and look into those magnificent eyes. “You’re out. Stay out.” His hand moves to rest upon the one on his cheek, his eyes glassy as they look at you. As one last little goodbye you lean in and delicately place a lingering kiss on his free cheek. “Goodbye Cherry Pie.” With your whispered words you pull away, exiting the car and shutting the door without looking back, for one more glance and you’d have never left.

***

A quiet week has gone by at Singer’s, you’ve spent as much time with your father and Sam as possible, still in dubiety at the fact you get to be around them again rather than meat hooks and flames. You’ve convinced Sam to take you on at Scrabble, telling him not to take it easy on you just because you’re out of practise.

“Quaky? Are you kidding me?”

“Oh and what’s that, is it on a double word tile, I think it is.” You say in mock doubt as you laugh along with your incredulous opponent.

“Three years and you can still kick my ass.” He says in jest as he reluctantly adds to your tally. As the two of you jokingly bicker the sound of an unfamiliar car pulling into the gravel driveway makes your giggles cease and your eyes to peer sceptically out the kitchen window. A door opens and closes followed by rapid footsteps to the door and then Dean is before you once more.

“Dean?” Sam questions, as confused as you at his brothers sudden appearance.

“Heya Sammy.” He greets briefly before his eyes snap to you, “Y/N we need to talk.” His urgency leaves no room for debate. You shoot Sam a look before you rise and follow Dean as he leads the way to what used to be your shared room, now occupied solely by you.

“Is everything okay?” You tentatively ask as he shuts the door behind him.

“I left Lisa”, he blurts out.

“You- what? No, why would you do that?” You can hardly keep the disappointment from your voice despite how much your heart is now bouncing excitedly in your ribcage.

“I couldn’t stay there, not after seeing you.” Your excited heart quells, replaced by the overpowering guilt that your selfishness has caused Dean to leave everything you wished for him behind. You shake your head, not allowing yourself to believe you could be the cause of Dean abandoning all you ever wanted for him.

“You’ve got to back. Beg her to take you back, say you hit your head and you had a concussion, anything.” You walk to him as you speak to show your intent.

“Do you know why I can’t go back?” He answers his own question by reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet, from whence he pulls a folded up, dirty looking piece of paper that he places in your hand. Your suspicions at the content are confirmed when you unfold it to see your own handwriting staring back at you.

“I kept that on me every day. Every time I doubted myself I would pull it out and read it, you wanna know why? Your words were the reason I stayed. I care for Lisa, but you’re back. I don’t want that life if you’re here.” Tears spring into your eyes, some falling down and blurring some words you noticed are already muddied. He abruptly pulls the piece of paper from your grasp, crumpling it up and throwing it aside without a care where it lands.

He removes the insignificant space between you, encircling his steadfast arms around your waist and pulling you into the embrace he could tell you desperately needed. Out of instinct your arms join behind his neck, gripping like if you let go he’d disappear.

“What about Lisa? It’s not fair for her.” You chide regretfully in his ear.

“What about what’s fair for you?” He asserts. “You spent three years in hell so I didn’t have to, you don’t have to think about what’s fair for anyone but yourself right now.”

You pull your face out of the crook of his neck and collide your lips on his, melting into the long lost but not forgotten feeling of his tender lips gliding against yours. You pull away, breathless at obtaining the sensation you’d been craving since setting eyes upon him again. You smile up at him, a smile eager and happy like a child in a candy shop.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” You respond to his poking question by latching your lips to his once more as you jump and encircle your legs around his waist.

You head down and help Dean unpack his car, every time you pass him his hand would pinch at your side or cheekily tap your ass. You could barely contain your excitement at putting his belongings back into their respective places, completely eradicating the empty feeling that was in the room before. The blame you feel about Lisa still niggled at the back of your mind but Dean’s words from earlier assure your guilty conscience.

You’ve paid your dues, and the Winchester with the jade eyes and wicked grin was your reward.

                                                     *************

Taglist:

@hobby27 @musiclovinchic93​

[dreamlikeafangirl]

The Last Skywalker

Summary: Fighting the knights of Ren on Exegol, Ben is too late to save Rey from making a fatal mistake.

Pairing: can, but does not have to be read as Ben Solo x Rey; Ben-centric!

Warnings: TROS spoilers, dark!Rey, violence, a whole lot of angsssst, ending is open for interpretation

Words: 1,4k

A/N: This takes place towards the end of tros, SPOILERS!, This isn’t really a fix-it fic … but it also kind of is? I would have liked an ending like this one.

Ben groaned with pain as his body repeatedly hit the stone floor. Something had successfully hit him in the chest, a scythe, probably. His breath was shaking with anguish. The knights of Ren were rigid and merciless fighters. Sometimes they attacked him one-on-one, sometimes they came at him from multiple sides. With nothing but the force as his last and only weapon, he struggled to retain the upper hand. Ironically, underneath all the fear, uncertainty and pain, Ben felt hint of pride. Even though he had never even bothered to learn their names, he had trained the knights well. So well he now feared they would actually kill him. Him, their former Commander.

Not that it mattered anymore. Ben had returned to Exegol a changed man. He wasn’t Kylo Ren anymore. He wasn’t the Supreme Leader of the First Order. He was only Ben Solo, the last Skywalker. Nothing more.

The next blow followed immediately. Ben twisted himself to the side and a Mandalorian ax pierced the ground right next to his head. Without missing a beat, the knight pulled his weapon back out of the stone like it was soft snow and struck again. But Ben was better prepared this time. He pushed himself off the ground with one hand, right towards the ax that was certain to split his skull in half, then used his free forearm to forcefully shove the weapon out the way mid-air by its blunt side. It stung quite a bit, after all, he wasn’t wearing any armor. The knight stumbled to the side, the spire of his weapon hitting the ground with a metallic high-pitched clang. Thereby, of course, he only made way for the next attacker.

Ben forced himself up on his feet again. The next knight swung his club at his chest, then his neck, then his legs. Panting, Ben dodged each blow. Blaster bolts were flying towards him from two sides; with the help of the Force he redirected them towards their originators. From the corner of his eye, he saw one of the knights collapsing to the ground. He felt the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. A small victory. With a thrust of the Force, he hurled the knight with the club into the air. He crashed into a nearby cliff and fell to the ground, dazed. At least temporarily.

The knight with the ax had decided to attack again. Breathing heavily, Ben got ready to avoid his blade by rolling underneath it. When his opponent lunged out, he prepared to lower himself to the ground. He closed his eyes as he felt the weapon charge towards him. He practically saw it, the Force clearing his vision. He knew exactly what to do to. A simple roll. The knight would not be able to hit him, and then –

The feeling was sudden, like an explosion. An unfamiliar coldness spread in Ben’s chest, making him open his eyes, gasping with confusion. For a second, he lost his concentration and his balance. His feet, unwilling to carry him anymore, indulged and he tilted to the side. The axe missed him, but Ben didn’t even realize it. He managed to catch himself on his elbow, pain shooting up his arm. He was feeling sick to his stomach. Sick and … alone. For the first time in what was feeling like forever, alone. A word fell from his lips. Not even a real word, a gasp, a breath.

“Rey.”

She was gone. The Force bond was broken. Ben was certain of it. A terrible emptiness suddenly burned inside of him. What – ?

He wasn’t able to finish the thought. A blade hit his torso, slicing through skin and flesh. He cried out in pain as black as red spots began to dance in front of his eyes. His head hit the ground. His arms and legs began to numb. Ben gripped the rough stones underneath him in an attempt to regain full consciousness. Every time he took a breath, it felt like another blade being rammed in between his rips. He winced. No. What had happened to Rey? Was she … ? No. She couldn’t.

Meanwhile, the knights of Ren had gathered around Ben, looking down on him through their grim masks. The one with the axe, who had delivered the last blow, was nearest to him. The weapon was hovering mere centimeters above his neck. Ben couldn’t for the life of him remember the knight’s name, yet he still spoke to him.

“You – don’t – need to – do this.” He gasped and coughed after ever other word.

The knight scoffed and lowered his ax until the cold metal brushed Ben’s skin. “Are you begging for your life?” He asked, his voice sounding hollow and lifeless behind the mask.

Ben felt his lips trembling. Even if he’d chosen to pursue that strategy, it wouldn’t work on the knights. Of course not. He had taught them. But the second he was dead, they would start going after Rey. And he could not let that happen. If she was still alive, he had to buy her as much time as possible. That was the least thing he could do for her now.

“Don’t – do – this.” He managed.

“We don’t take orders from you anymore.” The knight said, his voice oozing with venom.  

At that moment, a sharp female voice resounded from the end of the room. “If you kill him, you are just as much of a traitor as he is. All of you are.”  

The knights turned around, Ben blinked. With the ax still being pressed to his neck, he wasn’t able to lift his head. But he felt it nevertheless, a foreign presence in the Force. Dark. Incredibly powerful. And somehow still familiar. Rey? Ben closed his eyes. No. No. This couldn’t be true.

She came closer. Every step of hers, echoing in Ben’s ears through the Force, seemed to suck more and more air out of his lungs. Tears filled his eyes.

“Step away from him. Now.” She ordered the knights.

The weapon vanished. The knights disappeared into the darkness. And Ben lay there, not knowing if he’d find ever the strength or courage to open his eyes.

“Kylo Ren. Look at you.” Rey spoke. “You abandoned the Dark side, and the Light side seems to have abandoned you.”

When he felt a lightsaber pointed at him, Ben’s instincts got the better of him and his eyes shot open as he started to drag himself backwards, ignoring the pain in his chest.

Bathed in the blue light of Luke Skywalker’s old saber, Rey looked like a ghost standing above him; pale, distant, her eyes blank and emotionless. A black coat was draped over her shoulders, half covering her white clothes.

“Rey.” Ben choked out. “What – happened to you?”

“You wanted to save me, I know. But you were too late.” She answered. “I killed the Emperor. I accepted my heritage. A thousand generations of Sith live in me now.”

Each sentence felt like another ax being thrusted into Ben’s chest. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered.

Rey smiled. A cold, joyless smile. “No need. Today is a day of glory for the galaxy.”

She was still pointing a lightsaber at him. But not an active one, not Luke’s. The weapon she held towards him, almost invitingly, was switched off. Ben had never seen it before, but felt its spirit like a warm kiss on his forehead. The saber … it belonged to his mother.

“Join me, Kylo Ren.” Rey continued, while Ben slowly reached out towards the saber. “And all will be forgiven. You will have your place as a leader back. You will have your power, and your honor back.”

Ben carefully gripped the lightsaber and pulled it towards him. Rey didn’t even seem to care. Instead, she further extended her now empty hand towards him. “Join me. Be by my side. Be who you are meant to be. Live out your legacy. Kylo Ren.”

“My name – is Ben Solo.” He struggled. “My legacy – is the light.” The saber in his hand seemed to emit warmth to his arm.

Rey shook her head slowly from one side to the other, laughing quietly under her breath.

“Do you think – this is – who you are meant to be?” Ben coughed, slowly pushing himself off the ground. New strength had awakened inside of him. “It’s not.”

“You are weak.” Rey answered. “You will never overpower the Dark side.”

“Your name – is Rey. You’re not – a Sith. You’re a resistance fighter. A pilot. A Jedi.”

“And you are Ben Solo.” She said sneering. “You’re an orphan. Both your parents are dead at your hands. The last Skywalker.”

Nothing more. Ben took a deep breath before activating Leia’s lightsaber. “I will not be the last Skywalker.”

[jeni182]

3, 32 and 34 for andreil from the angst/fluff prompt list? im in the mood for some intense angst (with happy ending bc im a wimp) and i love your writing so damn much

Oh I see, anon. You tryin me today. Let’s see what I can do with the ANGSSSST. And THANK YOU for the sweet compliment!

Neil was watching Andrew throw clothes into a bag, torn between ignoring him completely and risking his life by grabbing him by the shoulders and attempting to shake some sense into him.

“Why are you doing this?” he settled for. Trying to sound as calm as possible. None of this made sense. Things were going so well. They were so good. They were living together, they had a routine, they had cats for fuck’s sake. Why now?

“I told you why,” Andrew replied, face blank and voice stony. He wouldn’t look at Neil. 

“Look me in the fucking face Andrew. ‘It’s just not working’ is not a reason why and you know it. What isn’t working? Which part? The part where we’re happy? The part where we take turns making dinner every night? The part where I go to three different grocery stores until I find the flavor of ice cream I know you love? Which is it, then?”

“Yes, that. All of it. Take your pick. It’s just not and it won’t and I can’t. I’ll keep paying my half of rent so you don’t have to move.” Andrew picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. 

“Please don’t do this,” Neil begged.

“All these years and still using the word please. Thank you for making my point for me,” Andrew said turning to make his way out of the bedroom door and through the apartment. 

“You’re fucking right, Andrew. I’ll do anything right now to get your attention. To make you feel something, you asshole. Please don’t walk out of that door. I can’t do this without you.”

Andrew snorted and sneered at Neil. “Can’t do what?”

“Life”

Neil saw it then. A tiny crack in the armor. Andrew’s face softened just a little. His shoulders dropped. Neil swooped in.

He stepped closer to Andrew slowly. He was in his bare feet and Andrew was wearing boots, so they were of a height for once. 

“Tell me why,” he said softly. “I’ll let you go, just tell me why. It just doesn’t make any sense. We’re so good, you and me. All our pieces fit. They always have.”

Andrew let his bag fall from his shoulder as he looked at Neil.

“Because,” Andrew said, almost a whisper. “I won’t get to keep you.”

Neil took a step back, like he’d been struck. “What? Why would you say that? I’m right here Andrew. I’m not going anywhere.”

“They always leave. Always. I’ve never had anything good and when I get something good, I strangle it to death,” Andrew was getting louder now, and Neil could see his pulse beating rapidly in his neck. “I did it with Cass. I couldn’t keep her. I even did it with Aaron and Nicky. They couldn’t wait to get away from me. And I’m going to do it with you because I am good for nothing but chaos and ruin, Neil. So I’m going now before shit blows up. Before I can ruin you like I ruin everything.”

He stooped down to grab his bag again, but Neil caught his arm. 

“Hey,” he said, forcing Andrew to straighten again. “Don’t do that. Don’t project that onto me. That’s not fair.”

Andrew shook his head and looked away from Neil. His eyes were suspiciously shiny. Neil started to panic. This was not Andrew.

“Look at me,” Neil demanded, and Andrew did. 

Slowly and cautiously, Neil ran his hands up Andrew’s arms. He squeezed the biceps he loved so much for just a moment before continuing the journey up. His hands made their way up Andrew’s neck and finally to cup his jaw. He leaned in, and kissed his partner slowly. 

It started chaste. Neil was trying to put everything he could into this kiss. He was trying to say ‘stop. don’t. i love you.’ in a way Andrew could feel instead of hear. He ran his tongue along Andrew’s lower lip and felt his mouth open. The kiss deepened. Neil moved his hands to Andrew’s hair and tugged.

‘Feel this. Feel this god damnit.’

It started chaste. It ended with Neil pressed against the wall and his legs wrapped around Andrew’s waist. 

Neil finally pulled away for air and laid his forehead on Andrew’s shoulder.

“I love you,” he said.

Andrew squeezed Neil’s hips where he was holding on to them.

“I love you, too.”

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Big Secrets (Sam Winchester X Witch!Reader)

Characters: Sam Winchester x Witch!Reader

Universe: Supernatural

Warnings: Swearing, violence/torture and death

Request: Supernatural request. Reader&Sam are dating and shes a kind and soft woman. He finds symbols under his bed, on his shoes ect. and they figure out shes a witch. But they're actually protective spells but they don't know (angsssst) and when one of them nearly dies she uses her magic to give him life energy so he survives and so the misunderstanding hets cleared and fluff

“You still seeing that girl, Sammy?” Dean inquired, seeing his younger brother checking his phone for the umpteenth time that day. Sam grinned, knowing it was Dean messing with him. “What’s it been, two months?”

“Two years, Dean. She’s not going anywhere.” Sam chuckled. Dean smiled back. While in the past any love interest for either of them ended in blood and tears, you were... different. When Sam had told you about his job, while you were a little startled, you adjusted quickly and took it in your stride. At this point you knew how to protect yourself when the boys weren’t there and you knew the warning signs of something supernatural. You took to it quickly, and were yet to get hurt.

“Where is Y/N anyway?” Dean asked, and Sam checked his phone again to reread your messages.

“She’s gonna be late home because of work... I might go tidy up some stuff to cheer her up a little bit.” He mentioned, heading to your shared bedroom in the bunker. He knew that coming home to a readymade bed and things put away will ease your tension a little bit, and Sam was happy enough to do it. You had been doing it since you moved in, anyway. It was only fair he did it at least once.

He got the fresh sheets, sitting them on top of the drawers, and started removing the bedding. It wasn’t hard for him, and soon he was down to the bed cover, and easily pulled it off, but stopped when he saw what looked like ink smears on the edges that would have been under the bed.  He creased his eyebrows, before lifting up the mattress, and he saw it.

The wooden bed frame had symbols painted on them. There was several, some repeating, some small and detailed, but all were on his side of the bed. While he didn’t know exactly what they meant, he knew that they meant something that there was no doubt you’d done it. He stood there for a few seconds, realising what you were.

You were in your car, driving home when your phone rang. Seeing it was Sam, you picked up, smiling and holding it to your ear. “Hey baby. I’m nearly home, I’ll be there in half an hour, want me to pick something up for Dinner? Does Dean want anything.”

“I don’t think you should come back.” His voice was low. Monotone. You tensed a little, not sure what was going on. You wondered if something bad had happened. Had someone died? Was there a body there or was someone you knew dead? Was someone there?

“What- why? Sam what’s wrong?” You asked.

“I know.” He answered, worrying you further. “I know. I found the sigils. Under the bed. You’re a witch, aren’t you?” He asked, a growl in his voice, and you tensed. You were silent, and Sam sighed. “I thought I could trust you.”

“S-Sam, you can, I promise! Those sigils aren’t bad, I can tell you what each means- they’re-“

“No! You’re a witch Y/N, and we don’t trust witches... I love you Y/N... But if you come through those doors, Cas and Dean are waiting.” He warned and hung up. You had to pull over, letting it settle in before the tears started to flow.

Sam was devastated, and he had been trying to busy himself to take his mind off the fact that the woman he loved had betrayed him. Soon he found what seemed like a demon in a neighbouring town and headed off with his brother. Dean was upset as well, knowing how happy Sam was with you. You were this sweet girl who offered the softness that Sam needed in his life. It was a shame. He wanted to help his brother, and didn’t much digging past what Sam already knew.

This led them to where they were now. Pinned to the floor by an invisible force as a woman- who they now knew wasn’t a demon, but was in fact a witch. Just like you. Despite the situation, Sam felt almost numb. The witch was laughing, watching Sam glare at her and Dean trying to fight back.

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Sam Winchester. I can’t believe that Y/N left my group just to be with you.” She commented. Sam flinched at the mention of his now ex girlfriend, and his heart stopped knowing that you were involved with this witch at one point.  “She was always too soft. I was planning on killing her for a ritual at some point anyway. You kind of saved her then, even without knowing it. But now you’re gonna be the thing that gets her killed. Because in the many, many years she was with us, she could never have it in her to kill. You can bet I’ll use that against her.” The witch smirked, seeing Sam’s conflict in his eyes shifting into frustration.

“You leave her alone!” He snapped, but the witch only chuckled.

“She’s nothing but a weak, pathetic bitch. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Surely you knew that. Well, if you didn’t know that, then you’re about to.” She grinned, taking immense pleasure in watching Sam’s tough facade shatter with only words.

Her grin was wiped off her face when she looked past Sam, down the hall. Sam and Dean looked back, shocked to see you standing there. Your usual sweet smile and kind eyes were gone, a wicked glare set on the witch in front of you. “Y/N, run!” Dean called out. You didn’t respond to him.

“I think you should listen to him Y/N, we both know you’re not capable-“ She didn’t finish her sentence as the air was knocked out of her as her body was thrown against the wall. There was a stunned silence as you walked closer, standing beside your former boyfriend and his brother. Both felt the weight on them disappearing, and they pulled themselves up. However, when they tried to step forward, they felt a sort of wall stop them.

The witch let out a raspy laugh. “You definitely surprised, but you’re not going to-“

“Make that final blow? Nah. Not yet anyway... You hurt them. You hurt Sam. You’re an idiot for trying to hurt the man I swore to protect with all my power. Now you’re going to face the consequences.” You told her. Sam listened, and his heart stopped, his mind clicking back to the sigils under the bed, it all clicking that those were all sigils for some form of protection. To protect him. It made sense the more he thought about it. Since you moved in the hunts had been going better and accidents were so rare, and injuries seemed to heal quicker than usual. Knowing that now, his heart sunk, realising that he left you for wanting to keep him safe. He snapped out of his thoughts at the witch groaning in pain, and hearing you mumbling in Latin under your breath as boils appeared on her skin, popping and then forming new ones, scaring and bleeding till she was totally disfigured and her groans turned into screams.

“Y/N.” Sam reached out, grabbing your hand, and the witch stopped making noises, though you didn’t turn to face him. “That’s enough, okay? You can stop now, you can go. We’ll deal with it from here.” He whispered to you, putting his other hand on your opposing shoulder to try and assure you, but you were tense.

“This is personal. She’ll come back if I don’t, and I’m not having that.” You said, raising your free hand and snapping your fingers, and a sick snap clicked through the hair as the witch went numb, before you relaxed and her body dropped to the floor, lifeless. Sam heard you sigh, before you took a step back, and you sniffed.

“...You two go outside; I’ll clean this up for ya.” Dean offered, and Sam had no trouble in ushering you outside the house, knowing you too needed to speak.

You ended up on the steps beside each other. While back there you had all the control, right now it was clear it had shook you up. “I’m sorry, Sam.” You whispered loud enough for him to hear, making him look over at you. “I should have told you... I was honestly planning on dropping it all. The spells and everything. But then you told me you were a Hunter, and while I knew it would be best to drop the witchcraft then and there, I remembered what I took it up for. To protect those I care about. She was right you know. Never hurt a damn fly. I just wanted to help people, and... Now I’ve seen what I’m actually capable of. I killed her. I knew her for years... I tortured her...” You flinched, feeling Sam’s arm wrap around you, before you relaxed a little.

“If I had known those sigils were for protection... God. None of this wouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have just dropped you like that. I should have trusted my gut into letting you at least explain. I should be the one apologising.”

“No. She would have attacked you guys anyway to get to me.”

“But I should have trusted you more.”

“Will you two just shut up and make up?” Dean called from inside the house, causing a second of you two looking at each other before cracking up.

“Are you willing to give me a second chance?” You asked, getting back on track. Sam smiled, leaning forward and giving you a kiss.

“Definitely.”

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

TAGS: None

[kylosrehn]

oh. oh. so that's how we're doing this? fine then. (I kid I love the excuse to send you LOTS) favorite character to write about this year? any new fics to start next year? events you participated in this year? fics you wanted to write but didn’t? a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read?

spamming me is actually the way to my heart, this is facts

•  favorite character to write about this year: 

honestly i’m torn between ophelia and leopold (as in, framework fitz.) i loved exploring ophelia, giving her a backstory and developing her character (because ahem, canon failed to do so), putting her in different scenario/aus and just having fun with her in general. i tried to stick to the (brief) canonic characterisation of her in like, the first half of 4x21, before everything went to shit, and obviously the madame hydra characterisation as much as i could, but admittedly a lot of it was my own personal input/shared headcanons and i guess that’s what made it so fun. that’s not to say she’s a blank canvas, but because canon didn’t really expand on her character (she was human for like, what, less than a day?) a lot of it was down to personal interpretation to fill in the blanks. !always human ophelia, for example, would obviously be totally different to the canon enhanced/inhuman/freshly 3d printed version of her and so on. basically it was really fun to try and figure out what she’d be like had canon not done her so dirty.

and, of course, leopold. it’s true that watching/writing/reading about villains is often more fascinating than focusing on the protagonist. i stand by what i’ve said before - he is my favourite aos character. yeah, he was in four episodes, and yeah he’s technically not a separate character at all - but it feels like he is and that’s basically the interpretation i ran with most of the time, treating the framework as an alternate, separate universe as opposed to a virtual reality. hell, even within that virtual reality, he’s just so vastly different, so deliciously depraved that it makes it super fun to explore his character further. there’s just so much more to him than meets the eye and i fondly remember all the days i spent over the summer just coming up with and discussing headcanons about his upbringing, his father and mother, his academy years and rise to power at hydra. that’s the great thing about the framework - the parts it gives you are fantastic, but the parts it doesn’t give you are even better. so a lot of it was exploring his past and his future (babiesssss. !dad leopold might just be my favourite thing, like, ever. the mad, scary doctor caring for a baby. it kills me. him worrying that he’s going to let his child down and become just like his father. the angsssst). he’s so complex and so evidently deeply troubled and absolutely tragic and i love it. he’s not a black and white, “he’s evil and that’s it” kind of character. he’s passionate and determined; he wants to love and be loved, but because of the constant pressure via his father and the absence of his mother, he’s not quite sure how to go about showing it. it’s so fun to explore his voice because he’s canonically savage and just so… like, there’s something so chilling about his stoic demeanor (notice how he only has angry outbursts in private.) i can’t begin to explain how fun it is to poke around his head and explore why he does what he does - he’s convinced he’s saving people, okay, he literally believes that - and how he deals with the complications that arise (inhuman baby, that will be all.) 

tl;dr: leopold “the doctor” fitz is fucked up and i absolutely love it.

any new fics to start next year? 

not entirely sure if this is a fic rec or a wip question tbh, so i’m basically gonna give a brief run-down of my fic to-do-list: okay, so i have like three fitz/skye fics i still need to write (as in, plot bunnies that will literally keep driving me insane until i finally get my shit together and get them down on virtual paper). the first one is a (late) christmas-based fic where they’re both working at hydra and he’s her scrouge-like boss who, outwardly, hates joy and love and christmas. one day, after a phone call from his mother, he tells skye he’s got a proposal for her (literally and figuratively speaking). cue a fake-dating trope fic with christmas fluff and a scottish backdrop. basically “the proposal” but with less deportation and more christmas. 

the second one is the framework fitz/skye post-revolution prison au (totally inspired by your three sentence prompt fill, which i love.) listen, i love torturing him and the entire prison sequence from 5x05 stole my heart, depression prison beard and all. so, it’s more of that, plus a lot of healing in a motel room. 

and the third one, which is less of a solid idea and more of a vague outline in my head: a lowkey star wars au. well. a part of it. soulbond i guess? whatever you want to call it. basically i can’t stop thinking about the two of them being psychically linked and appearing to each other at the most inconvenient of times and falling in love like idiots despite the fact that he’s the literal actual head of hydra and she’s a newly-turned-inhuman and, you know, a devoted resistance member. basically, she’s his redemption arc.

also i’m gonna try and finally fill the prompts in my inbox, because i’m always yelling for more and then they just sit there and i end up hoarding. 

events you participated in this year?

i really started writing proper aos fic in the second half of the year, so i didn’t get a chance to join all that many, but hopefully i’ll join more of these in 2018.

• fitzsimmonsnetwork secret santa 2017• aospositivitynet secret santa 2017• skyeward big bang(because i like to mix it up a little. also because like no aos fic writing event accounts for my fav aos ship, rip)

fics you wanted to write but didn’t?

SO. MANY. too many arguably. like, i’m so bad. i’ll probably update this post if/when i upload an actual unfinished fic dump 2017 part II, because tbh i’ve been toying with the idea for a while. 

okay, so there’s: 

1. the literal very first aos fic i started writing, a direct result of all my pent-up anger and frustration at that lame-ass finale. i decided a fix-it fic was in order, where it basically diverges from canon around halfway through 4x21 (before that scene) and ophelia’s pardoned and allowed to stay, albeit under close surveillance and basically locked up in the containment module and the team has to learn to deal with it and accept her while fitz helps her come to terms with what it really means to be human. also, feelings don’t just get thrown away instead of being properly addressed because that’s lazy writing and you can love more than one person at a time, god fucking damn it). while this is still unfinished, it admittedly later evolved into a broader collab verse known as “team au.”

2. fitz/ophelia ‘we kind of broke up because you chose jemma and now we’re meeting again years later in new york and i never realised how much i missed you until you started chasing me down the street’ au.

3. this one canon-divergence (though canon can’t prove me wrong, so technically…) au where the framework is still the framework and everything is pretty much the same except ophelia’s pregnant (look, in 4x16 when he’s getting all worked up about “i have to protect you, i have to…” and she grabs his hand i literally thought for a moment that she was going to place it against her stomach and they’d do an oh-my-god-baby reveal, but they’re not ballsy enough to go there, so it’s mostly just wishful thinking BUT STILL) so when daisy quakes her out the window, well. in other words: ANGST. 

4. this one fic where fitz and ophelia went to high school together but never really interacted until one party during the summer of their freshman year of college, realise they have feelings for each other and sleep together literally under the stars before he moves across the country because of college and a prestigious internship. shortly after term starts, ophelia realises she’s pregnant. cue long-distance internet pining, several failed attempts to confess/meet up in person, and and lots of hurt/comfort as ophelia slowly learns to accept her situation and make the best of it. plus some father-daughter bonding. it sounds really lame now i guess, but it’s really an idea that’s been with me for a long time and i’ve plotted and planned it and thought about it a lot so i would really love to push myself to just sit down and word vomit it out at some point. i promised myself i’d do in december/over christmas, but of course that didn’t happen, so hopefully sometime in january. it’s kind of a pet project of mine so i’ll be really disappointed in myself if i just let it go, even though the fitz/ophelia ship is as good as dead by now and i’d probably just be writing it for myself more so than for any real kind of audience. (yeah, i still have a soft spot for this ship, mostly because of the chest-tightening nostalgia i get whenever i think about it and the literal hours i’d spent being so completely invested in it over the summer. will i ever get over it? probably not.)

there’s a bunch of other stuff i always wanted to explore (leopold backstory, framework-canon hydra uprising, framework post-canon revolution, etc.) but never really got far enough in any other stuff to go into detail about them here (i really have to properly sift through my docs at some point, it’s literally a fic dump of headcanons/ideas from like, three months of hardcore obsessing all summer) but i guess one simple conclusion can be drawn from all this: i have a thing for angst, redemption arcs and pregnancy/baby fic, not necessarily in that order. 

a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read?

this is such a hard question because 1. i’ve read a lot of stuff from like, a weird mix of different fandoms, 2. with my ‘unfortunate/problematic’ choice of ships/favourite characters it’s hard to pick something everyone would enjoy. however:

for this empire, after night  - i know the kylo ren/rey pairing isn’t for everyone (see above), but in my defense this isn’t really a shippy fic at all. it may, however, be one of the damn most beautiful things i’ve read in a long, long time. the descriptions, the imagery. it’s breathtaking (and really puts my own miserable scribbling into perspective)

[whispersandwhiskerburn]

When She’s Gone

Summary: Dean is lost when the Reader leaves him. She never stays, and he doesn't know how to make her do so. Pairing: Dean x Reader. Reader is absent though (see the title)--most of this is in Dean’s head with Sam coming in at the end for a conversation. Word Count: 2,782 Warnings: Angsssst! Insecure Dean is trying/failing to deal with abandonment issues—and he's borderline depressed because of it. Canon style. Author's Note: This was written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing‘s  SPN Anti-Valentine's Challenge for the song “Ain't No Sunshine” by Bill Withers. This was done in Dean's POV which I have only tried a few times, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I started with inspiration from a blurb I had previously written and went from there. There's a lot of build up till the reader comes in, canonically correct flashbacks in Dean's memory. Be patient. The Dean x Reader part will show up. Tags: My forevers are below the read more, but the following fabulous friends voted for this fic in particular in my Pick the Fic post, so here you go! @feelmyroarrrr, @beckawinchester, @wi-deangirl77, @avasmommy224, @xtina2191, @ruprecht0420, @death2thevirgin, @autopistaaningunaparte, @dancingalone21, @rissbennett, @salvachester, @lipstickandwhiskey, @paintrider13-blog, @mamaredd123, @spn-and-daddy-issues, @deanwinchesterforpromqueen, @wevegotworktodo, @angelofwinchester17,  @wildfirewinchester, and @fandommaniacx.

Dean had experience with being left behind.

He had been four years old when Mom had burned. He had been old enough to understand, sitting on the trunk of the impala, watching his home burn and Dad cry while holding Sammy. He didn't know why or how, but he knew Mom had left and wouldn't be coming back.

Dad used to leave sometimes—even before...that night. But he always came back. And mom was always there.

But that night, Dad was crying, and Mom wasn't there—and Dean, even at four years old, knew she never would be again.

His Mom had left him.

Then his voice left him. He knew what was happening, saw his Dad trying to cope, but mostly drinking, stumbling from place to place. He tried to take care of Sammy, but Dean didn't want to talk. Not to Dad, not to anyone.

Then, when he got older and started talking again, started really paying attention to his Dad, the only parent he had left, Dad started leaving more often.

He'd be gone, sometimes for a day, sometimes for a week, and he'd come back  bruised, or bloody, or drunk. He'd write in his journal, drink, check on him and Sammy, then pass out before leaving again.

Dean figured out about hunting soon enough—Dad had started to become paranoid as he learned more and more of what was out there, so he started training Dean. Sammy was getting old enough to start training too, but Dean tried to keep him out of it. He didn't want Sammy to know how to make a silver bullet, how to shoot someone in the head, or why there was always salt spread at the doors of the hotel rooms.

He just wanted Sammy to be a kid.

Sometimes he fought with Dad over it—but never for long. Dad might never have stuck around much, but even he could see that this type of darkness was changing his family, and he didn't want to do that to Sammy either.

Then Sammy found out. He was old enough now that Dean was having to fight both Dad and Sam to try and keep Sam out of training. He considered it a win when he got Sam stuck on researching duty. The kid was good at it, and he wanted to help so bad...but most importantly, it kept him safe. It kept him out. When Dean had to leave with Dad to help with a hunt, he wanted to make sure that Sam would be there when he came back.

And no matter how scared Dean got when he left to hunt some monster or ghost when he was a teenager, he always knew he had to get back. He was never going to leave Sammy.

No one deserved to get left behind.

One time, Sam ran away. It was one of the worst times in Dean's life—not knowing what had happened, how he had lost him. Dean looked everywhere, frantic, terrified of what could have happened.

When Dad got home and heard what had happened, it was...it was like he dropped the role of Dad. He was nothing but a hunter in that moment—cold, purposeful, ruthless.

It had scared Dean. But not as much as having Sam leave him.

They found him again, but Dean had a hard time trusting him to stay after that. Dad had come back that time, but not Sam. There was a distance between them after that. Dean stopped worrying about keeping Sam out of the business, and started throwing himself into the business more.

Maybe that's why he hadn't seen the Stanford acceptance coming.

He hadn't even known Sam had applied—his own brother hadn't even told him that.

The argument that night, Sam screaming that he wanted to leave, that he wanted out of this life, Dad calling him a traitor, running out on his family, telling him that if he did, he should never come back.

Dean hadn't known what to do. He didn't want Sam to go, but he didn't think Dad was right either.

Why couldn't they just stay together? Why did they always have to fight? What was wrong with his family—with him, that no one ever wanted to stay with him?

Sam left.

Dean and John hunted together for the years he was gone, and every time they had a case in California, they'd stop by and check on him. He was fine—safe, out of the life, doing well in school.

They never let on that they were there. Sam never called or looked for them.

He never seemed to miss Dean at all.

Dean tried to take comfort in the fact that Sam was out and safe, but it was just another abandonment—and this one hurt more than any other had. He had raised Sammy, and to have him walk out and never look back....

But then Dad went silent on a hunt.

No calls. No check ins. No message, no sign, no nothing.

Dean had been a hunter long enough to know that this was something different than the usual silence, to know that something was really wrong. He couldn't face this alone—he didn't want to face this alone.

He went to Sam. Dad had been in California, but there was no sign of him around Stanford. If Dad was missing, Sam should help Dean find him. He was still a Winchester, even if he wasn't a hunter anymore.

Then Jess.

And Dean was left with a broken, tortured Sam. He tried to help, tried to guide, but how do you help someone who just watched the person they love burn to death on a ceiling? He hadn't been able to heal his father of that wound in the last 22 years, and now Sam was going through the same thing, and Dad wasn't there, and Dean didn't know what to do.

Except look for Dad.

So that's what they did.

The found him. And for just one brief moment—a scary, tragic, but shining moment, Dean had both his brother and his father back in his life.

And then his Dad abandoned him again.

This time, he left for him—did a deal with a demon to bring Dean back. But how was Dean supposed to deal with that? His father had gone to Hell, left him forever with the knowledge that the only reason he was walking around on the Earth was because his father was burning down below.

He tail-spun after that.

Sammy got him back.

The two of them worked together after that. Hunt after hunt, trying to save the world, trying to make it a better place, the way Dad would have wanted.

But then Sam died in Dean's arms, stabbed in the back.

And Dean...he couldn't. He just couldn't.

It was worse than Mom...worse than Stanford...worse than Dad.

Dad had made a deal to bring Dean back. Dean did the same for Sam.

When he died bloody beneath that Hell Hound—when he left Sam for good, or so he thought, Dean didn't regret making the deal.

As he suffered in Hell, he was thankful that Sam wasn't the one beneath the blade.

When he started torturing souls, he was glad that Sam wasn't there to see it.

And then he was back. Sam was different, and the world was crazy—the apocalypse was happening and angels were real, and one of them had dragged him out of Hell.

It took Dean a while after he was back, in the midst of the craziness, to realize that Sam really was different. Colder, darker...and finally it connected. It was like John had been when Sam had run away that time.

It scared Dean.

He lashed out, blaming Sam, blaming that bitch Ruby for poisoning him.

But it was too late.

Sam had left him for a demon, for his powers, and Lucifer rose.

That was a dark time. Dean didn't know whether or not he could trust Sam, could trust the angels, even Castiel who had saved him—so many people died. Jo and Ellen, their brother Adam...he almost gave up at one point.

He just couldn't take anyone else letting him down.

And what stopped him? The idea that he would be letting Sam down. That he would be abandoning him. Dean just couldn't do it.

So they fought. And they fought. And they saved the world—at a price.

Sam leapt into Hell with Lucifer inside him. Cass rebelled from Heaven for them and saved them all, brought Bobby back, and the world kept on spinning,  just the way it was supposed to.

But Dean was empty inside. He went to Lisa, because he had promised Sam he would. He did his best, smiling where he could, trying to raise Ben and make a life that was worth the sacrifice his brother had given.

But Sam had chosen to leave.

And it was like Dad all over again.

And there were moments, brief moments when the sun would peek out from behind the clouds, when he thought he could actually have a normal life. A home.

It didn't last though.

Sam came back—most of him. The life was right there waiting, with extended family members ready to betray him because he hadn't had enough of that in his life. Dean risked a conversation with Death to get Sam his soul back and it worked great—until Cass left them for Crowley.

He was such a child—he refused to listen to Dean. Dean could see the pattern all over again; it was Sam partnering with Ruby to stop Lilith—except this time it was Castiel partnering with Crowley to stop Raphael. He wouldn't listen and the same thing happened all over again—the fallout result was worse than what they were trying to destroy.

Lisa and Ben had to have their memories wiped.

Sam's mind broke, and he remembered his time in Lucifer's cage.

Castiel was dead and Leviathans walked the earth.

The ultimate monsters, and it was his best friend who was responsible. And Dean was left to clean up the mess because Castiel had done it all.

They lost Bobby.

Everyone dies or leaves and nothing Dean could do could stop it.

Kevin. Benny. Charlie. Garth. Rufus.

Sam abandoned him in Purgatory—never even looked for him.

God showed up and then left again.

Mom came back...and only stayed for about a week.

That one had nearly killed Dean. She had been the one person Dean had needed most. He had lost so many—some by their choice and others before their time, but his mom? He had built his whole life on the fact that his mother had been stolen from him, but in the end...she chose to leave too.

Even if he understood why, Dean couldn't help feeling like there just wasn't anything inside him that made the people he loved want to stay.

And then he met you.

It had been a hunt—a surprisingly small one compared to the end-of-the-world things that had been happening regularly over the last few years. Just a vengeful spirit in an old house that needed to be salted and burned and put to rest.

But it had rocked Dean to the core.

You had been there, at the grave site before Dean could get there. Sam was at the house, ready to move in in case there was any sign of danger for the family that lived there, and Dean had been surprised as hell to find you up to your calves in the grave he was supposed to be digging up.

It surprised him even more when you looked up at him, studied him and his shovel for a moment and simply asked, “hunter?”

“Winchester.”

You had nodded, then slid over for him to jump in and dig beside you.

“I'm Y/N. We'll do the rest of the pleasantries after Casper here is crispy, deal?”

Dean had jumped in and dug his shovel in. “Fair enough.”

Afterwards, you had gone out to eat with them. After the brothers were convinced you were who you said you were, they had invited you back to the bunker to crash. It was an hour away, but better than a skeezy motel room.

You had agreed.

Dean had been fascinated with you. He hadn't smiled much since Mom had left, but he laughed with you. It was like...well, sunshine.

But you didn't stay either.

You didn't have any real ties to them. Every month or so you would call, or Dean would, about a case and you'd team up and work together. After a few times, you ended up in Dean's bed and, while the sex was fantastic, Dean found himself wanting more.

But you never gave a sign that you did. In fact, you had left again the morning after before Dean was even out of bed.

You didn't shut off communication—you and Dean had even hooked up a few more times. You still laughed together, sang along to the same songs, and fought over who was the best shot on the firing range.

But when you were gone.

Dean moped. He drank. And he missed you.

Of course, he was used to being left behind.

He was sitting at the small table in the kitchen, drinking a beer and lost in thoughts of you when Sam pulled out the chair across from him and plopped into it.

Dean looked up with a glare. Sam had been annoyingly cheerful all day, and Dean had thought that he had made it clear that he didn't want company right now.

“Unless this is about a case, Lucifer, Castiel, or Mom, beat it.”

“None of the above.” Sam's voice was matter-of-fact and almost smug. Dean took another swig of his beer, wondering if he should just switch to something stronger.

“I've been wondering what has been making you act so weird, and I think I've figured it out.”

“Really. Enlighten me, please, Dr. Phil.” Dean's voice should have been enough warning for Sam to back off, but his little brother pressed on anyway. Pain in the ass.

“I thought it was about Mom, but it's not. You're upset about Y/N walking out.”

Dean schooled his face, pulling on his many hours of hustling poker to keep from ruining his bluff.

“And what makes you think that, Obi Wan?”

Sam raised an eyebrow then smiled a bit, “search your feelings, De--”

“Dude!” Dean protested, but Sam pointed a finger at him, saying, “you started the Star Wars reference, man.”

Dean grumbled a bit and took another drink, sad to find that he was almost empty.

“Seriously man, every time she leaves, you go into this weird depressed funk for days. You don't eat right, you drink even more than usual, and you're grumpy for no reason.”

Dean didn't meet his brother's eyes, trying desperately to avoid the truth.

“C'mon. Spill.”

Damn chick flick was what this was turning into.

“Fine, I miss her, okay? I've got feelings for her, but I don't think she does...and let's face it, I don't have the track record to press my luck.”

Sam nodded at that, a frown appearing on his face.

“There ain't no sunshine when she's gone, Sam, and she's always gone too long anytime she goes away.”

“She's a hunter, Dean. She leaves. But she comes back. She keeps coming back. I think that should tell you something.”

“I know, I know, I know....” Dean couldn't help how he felt, even if it wasn't logical. He knew she cared for him, but apparently it wasn't enough to make her stay.

“I just get tired of people leaving.” Dean sighed, “I mean, either they die or they walk out. Don't you ever wonder why everyone leaves, Sam? And with Y/N, it's worse than ever. Every time I wake up, she's left again, and I wonder this time where she's gone, wonder if she's gone to stay.”

“Dean, have you ever asked her to stay? Have you ever given her any reason to think that she's more than a friend with benefits thing?”

Dean glared at his brother again. He was officially done with this conversation.

Dean stood up, threw his bottle in the trash can and walked out of the kitchen, heading for his room, even though he knew that would only make it worse. Her scent was there, her memory was strongest in his room, his bed.

As he walked down the hallway, he couldn't help but to sing slightly under his breath, “this house just ain't no home anytime that she goes away.”

But Dean had experience with getting left behind.

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