#saying i am back to my bullshit would imply that i ever come off my bullshit

[kidrauhlschik]

Let The World Burn. - I.N. 3

In the end, he managed to forget that a king is nothing without his queen.

~

Part 1, 2, & 4 will be linked in the master list above!

Pairings: Jeongin x Reader (and some love triangles among the way.) enemies to lovers, royalty au!

Warnings: ANGST, implied smut, war, aggression, anxiety, depression, death, please let me know if i miss anything... (this was heavily inspired by the song “Let the world burn” by Chris Grey.

Word Count: 2.1K

~

Life went on as normal. Responsibilities, meetings, and building ties in court. It felt like every day was longer than the last.

Felix took some time off due to personal reasons, but now he was back in full service as your advisor and best friend. It felt great, but you couldn't help but feel distanced from the freckled man.

Bang Chan would always be there when you needed him, it's as if he had abandoned Joengin's side to be there for you. Anytime Felix left you at night to get drunk in his chambers, Chan would keep you company. Humanizing Jeongin in his own way. To you, the king was a ruthless ruler and husband, but to Chan, he was a clueless younger sibling. It was odd and incomprehensible.

One day, months after your wedding, much to your surprise, Jeongin was standing in the middle of your chambers. Dressed in his usual attire. A black suit, golden accents and chains. You have never seen him in casual wear outside of your consummation night. He's only ever seen you as a business partner.

"What are you doing here?"

"Is that a way to address your king?" He stands before you, authoritatively.

"This is how I address anyone who comes into my chambers uninvited." You stand tall as well. Not letting Jeongin make you feel small once again.

"Funny thing, you are staying in my soil, my palace. As far as I am concerned, these are my chambers." He says as he extends his arms in a show of bashfulness.

"As far as I know, this is my soil too. I am the queen. Have you forgotten that, your highness?" You say with a chuckle, almost finding his stance comedic. He hasn't talked to you in months. You'd accepted him as an acquaintance. Now he wants to come into your room to interrogate you, it seemed outrageous to you.

"That." He points at you, before he turns towards your window. "You always do that." His hands rest against the window seal, allowing his weight to rest on his shoulders.

"I am sorry my king, but I am afraid that I am not understanding what you are saying."

You frustrate him. He can’t quite put his feelings into words, but you keep him up at night. He pushes himself off the window in desperation.

"I am saying... That I do not understand how you can be so casual about everything. Despite it all, you stand tall, and stubborn. It truly gets under my skin." His voice slowly gets louder with every word. What he doesn’t say is that the way you switch from innocent and precious, to authoritative and ruthless in the blink of an eye astonishes him. It seems fake, it infuriates him.

"I apologize my king, but I am still clueless as to what is your agenda here."

"STOP!" You take a step back, surprised at his tone.

"You are scared! You are unsure! You are mad! You know how I know this? That’s because that’s what I am going through! I am going absolutely mad. Is this deal not breaking you down the same way it's breaking me?" He runs his hands through his hair, eyes wild.

"Jeongin..."

"How can you be so strong despite the circumstances? Why the hell are you always so happy and chirpy? The world is harsh, and I know that you are aware of that. I’ve seen you with your claws out." He grabs a glass from your table and fills it with the pitcher of wine next to it.

"If all hope dies, then why should I continue living?" You tilt your head while looking at him.

"That's what I mean! You are so foolish. The world isn't made of hope. This world is based on strength. Only the strongest survive." He takes the a swig from the glass of wine. “I don’t want to keep hearing your bullshit! You go on your little act of fairy godmother to the people and then you turn around and make commands in court, and if something doesn’t go your way, you throw a damn tantrum until you get your way. It never makes sense.”

"Sometimes the weakest people win from hope, When you have nothing, there is nothing to lose. Do not underestimate that my king. Also, do not make any assumptions on my character based on what you see in court, you do not know me. I am strong for the sake of my people, it is not an act." You say as you try to guide the wine glass down from his hand, but instead he gathers anger and throws the glass to the nearest wall, causing you to jump when it makes impact.

"How?" His eyes search the ground, at a loss, hoping to find some answers in his own brain. Now it made sense, the king had been drinking. You don’t know him enough to realize it at first, but now you can see. His hair out of place, his eyes glassy, and his usual calm and controlled demeanor is nowhere to be seen.

Feeling bold, you approach him, only a couple of inches away from his face. "Maybe I am foolish, but I would much rather be foolish and confident in a world of tyrants that think they know it all. The higher you stand, the bigger the fall. Do not forget that my king." You say as you leave him in your chambers.

~

After seeing Jeongin in your room, you opted for your safe space, the garden.

Just as you were about to reach the doors leading you to the west side of the palace, you encounter one of your ladies, Rose.

You expected to just curtuoly nod at her, but the second she saw you, she stopped in her tracks. "Your highness." Is all she said.

"Rose?" You responded without turning around as you passed her.

"What are your intentions in court?"

"I am sorry?" You've always been kind to those of lower class, treating them as equals. However, as a princess, you learned very quickly when someone undermines you. Their tone is more aggressive, demanding, and authoritative. The only people that you allow to speak with you in such way, are your own parents, but that was when you were still a princess under their rule. As a queen, it would take pure imurdinance for someone to speak to you in such way.

Yet, Rose stands before you, with the imprudienty of no other.

"Stop acting clueless. You came here trying to stir up the diplomacy at court. We have a way of doing things here and you think you have a right to change them?”

You finally turn to her, "I have every right to change what I please. I am your queen.”

Rose lets out a humorless chuckle, "You may be the queen but you are not my queen."

You wondered if she was stupid or just insane.

Taken aback, you respond, "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't play coy, your mind games are getting to the king," that surprises you. "He won't shut up about you. Always ranting over your tantrums and schemes. You make him seem small and weak. A king does not listen to a woman."

"I am not just a woman, should I repeat myself? I am the queen. He has no choice but to listen to me if he means for this alliance to work. Either way, this is none of your concern. You are my lady, what right do you think you have in this manner?" You approach her, standing a foot away from her now. Although you stand tall and straight, she seems to match your energy. Proud and strong.

"I have a right, despite your beliefs. I am the king's mistress." It catches you off guard. Sure, you knew that Jeongin has never loved you, or even liked you, but you thought that he had enough respect for you as a royal to at least be faithful to you.

How foolish.

"Oh." Is all you can say.

"You may be the ruler of the country, but I am the ruler of his heart. your highness. He cares for you out of convenience, if you could even call it that. Just be aware, that I can see through to you. You are a stranger in this court, and once I can get rid of you, you will be gone in the blink of an eye." She says with a smirk.

You raise your hand ready to strike her, but she stops your hand by holding your wrist a mere inches away from her face.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. The king is rather protective over me. Be aware that he has told me that he will choose me before his rights as a first born, tread carefully queen YN." She throws your hand to the side and turns quickly to walk away.

At her words, you take a second to watch her walk away, "You as well, lady Rose."

~

You only told Felix about what happened with Rose. He tried to convince you to tell the king, but you knew he wouldn't be on your side, especially after seeing how bold his mistress was.

The word, mistress, hurt you. You should have expected it, but the glass in your world seemed to crack a bit more.

"YN, I just want you to be happy." The blonde haired man says to you.

"I know Felix, but realistically, can you see me happy here? The more I think about it, I'm going to live a life of misery next to Jeongin."

"You knew this YN." He is sitting on your bed, trying to console you.

"I don't know what I knew Felix. I thought I had something here. I thought I had pride, I thought I had dignity. Turns out, I am nothing. I am a queen by name. The king only agrees to my terms because he needs my troops. Otherwise, my country would be bare to the rest of the world. I truly don't know what to do." You sit next to him on your bed, tears streaming down your face.

"Hey hey," He holds your hand and looks into your eyes. "You are strong, you're a benevolent queen, you are respected, you do not need an immature king to acknowledge you." Felix wipes your tears away with his left hand, as his right hand hold yours. "You know I will always be here for you." In between sobs, you hold eye contact with your best friend.

Has he always been so handsome? So ethereal that his glossy eyes are enough to mesmerize you? His face, is kind, and beautiful, it's bewildering that you've never noticed that before.

If the king can have a lover, the thought of one crosses your mind.

"Felix?" Your face, inches away from his.

"Yes? Your highness?" You smile at his words, always so light hearted.

"Do you love me?" His heart stops before he could collect himself.

"Of course I do my queen." He says with no hesitation.

Your free hand reaches his face with affection, "No Felix. I am not asking you if you love me as a queen, but as a woman. You are loyal and handsome, maybe I am foolish to think that you may like me as anything other than a friend, but maybe I am feeling bold. Do you think we could be-"

Before you can finish your sentence, your chamber doors fly open.

"Where the hell is the new queen?" His voice booms through the room as if it was amplified.

You and Felix jump away from each other, the moment gone before it began.

You look towards the source of disruption, first with concern but the second your eyes lock with his, your harsh demeanor falls.

"Minho!" You shout as you run to the older mans arms, leaving Felix behind.

"Hey princess..." He whispers softly to you, "How's it been?" In response you only hold him tighter.

After collecting himself, Felix stands as well, "Isn't it rude to ignore your comrade?" He says with his arms crossed against his chest, feigning sadness.

Minho let's you go after a bit while rolling his eyes, "Yeah whatever yongbok, I missed you too."

He goes to give a hearty hug to Felix. "Nice to see you man."

"I've missed you."

Minho breaks the hug first, "Damn, it's been less than a year, why are the two of you acting so sad and proper?"

Both you and Felix look at each other before you respond, "It's been a hell of a year Min."

~

AN: Okay only two chapters left unless I make it a really long one. This was supposed to be the long one, but I worked 60+ hours this week - i did my best :/

[mugwot]

the besties! them!

alt barnaby that i didn't have the heart to discard

[n3ptoonz]

'Closer'

Pairing: Smoke/F!Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: SMUT! Explicit!! Msub to Mdom, fluff elements, we use Tomas around these parts (literally and figuratively), implied breeding knk, dirty talk near the end, Tomas is a lover boy with a filthy mind, riding

Word count: 1.8k+

Explicit content under the cut

When he met you, his whole world was flipped upside down in the best way possible. You were strong, physically and emotionally, and tolerated no bullshit. All with grace and beauty. You were almost the opposite of him in personality, which drew him in even further since the day he met you at Madam Bo's. You were one of the customers that stayed behind to help out when the test was going, having you think the Lin Kuei was really trying to take over the restaurant.

You were and still are a fierce fighter. You really almost beat him if he didn't go invisible to take you down. So now, he was absolutely infatuated with everything about you. The day he came back to you, letting you know about the break in Kuai Liang and Bi Han's relationship and Kuai's new clan; how quick you were in agreeing to follow him wherever he goes was just the icing on the cake.

Tomas opened the door for you, a bright smile shining on his face. He finally married the woman of his dreams after so long of you proving you were fit to marry into the clan, which he held dear to his heart.

You kissed his cheek as a thank you, walking further into your suite. You both made your way to the back door, taking in some of the view --that wasn't covered by the fence--of Outworld's biggest city: Edenia.

"Beautiful..." Tomas murmured, "The view too." he chuckled, nudging you playfully.

You playfully rolled her eyes, nudging him back from his cute little joke. You wrapped your hands around his arm, laying your head on his broad shoulder as you two stared at the blue sky that was soon to change colors, sighing in content.

"If this is a dream, don't wake me up." you mumbled, quietly but just loud enough for him to hear what you said. You looked up at him, tracing the muscle lines on his thick biceps. It was one of your favorite physical features about him, his beautifully sculpted arms from the years and years of training in the Lin Kuei.

Tomas felt warmth spreading through his chest as you cuddled against him, and from the sound of your voice filled with pure contentment.

Leaning in, Tomas captured your lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The delicate taste of your lips alone was intoxicating, causing a surge of desire to wash over him. The moment felt surreal and yet undeniably real, like a long-awaited fulfillment of your love.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his breaths coming out in soft, ragged puffs. "My beautiful wife," he murmured your name, his voice filled with devotion. "I am so lucky to finally be able to say you are mine, and I am yours. This honeymoon will be unforgettable, just you wait." he whispered, nuzzling his nose with yours with the giddiness that a newlywed would be expected to have.

You gently ran your fingers through his short silver locks, smiling at his love professions. Your gaze shifting oh so slightly, but he could easily tell what it meant after being with you for so long.

"Why don't show me in the hot springs?" you whispered, slowly pulling away from him and letting your eyes linger on him. You got undressed, wrapped yourself in a towel off the shelf, and headed towards the back door with a sway in your hips, looking back at a blushing Tomas.

"Well?"

Tomas couldn't help but stammer over his words as he stared at you. You've only ever engaged in intimate moments with each other a few times in the 5 years you've been together pre-marriage, but never got to the sexual part. This good old fashioned lover boy was raised on the idea that partners are to be cherished, and there were far more ways to show your love for someone without it always resulting in sexual activity.

However, today, that was about to change.

You both settled into the hot springs after washing up, sighing in relaxation. He stole a glimpse of you looking up at the sky changing from blue to yellow as the sun was setting along the horizon. One small part of him was nervous. Not because he was sitting across from you and your naked figure that was obscured by the water, but because this was your first time together. He hadn't much time to think about this sort of thing due to his new role in the Shirai Ryu and actively protecting Earthrealm. So this moment was very important and special to him.

"The sun's about to set." you said, looking over at him who was nearly frozen in place--his gaze already meeting yours.

"Outworld's skies are always so beautiful at night." you continued, tilting your head to the side and trying to get a read on him.

"I can think of something prettier..." he murmured. The calm waves rippling over his biceps and collarbones made your mouth water. He always found a way to round a statement back to how beautiful he found you, and he meant it every time seldom shame.

"Yeah? What's that?" you asked, slowly standing up out of the water. As soon as it dropped back down, the remaining drops just continued to fall down every inch of your body. The closer you stepped towards him, the more he could see the sun rays bounce off the water reflection sticking to your skin.

Tomas's next words were caught in his throat. The mere sight of the water dripping from your breasts, to your hips, to your thighs--and how some of the drops fell in between them. You re-settled into his lap and let his hands instinctively grab your hips.

Was this all a dream? A simulation? How did he get such a good-looking individual that could fight her heart out against strangers that were twice her size? Ugh, he felt so lucky and so selfish at the same time. He had you all to himself, and all his dreams were to be fulfilled.

"I...You-"

You slowly sank down into his lap, drinking in his moans with a kiss. His body tensed underneath you as you took all of him. You briefly broke the kiss for a second to gasp at how much he filled you up.

"Tomas..." you breathed out, sitting still for a moment while you adjusted and gripping his shoulders.

He shuddered at the sound of his name escaping from your lips, letting his soft hands feel you up as much as he pleased.

"Take it, baby...it's all yours..." he whispered against your lips and smiled, pecking the corner of your mouth. "Take your time, we've got all night long."

This was your first time together and in general. All those times of sneaking off just for a few kisses and hugs were absolutely nothing in comparison to this.

Every movement of your hips felt like pure bliss for both ends. It's like your body was made for him and vice versa. The water making the flow smoother added a perfect touch too.

You could feel Tomas gripping your sides, panting like he just ran a mile.

"Shit-" he said, pulling you closer and letting himself loose. You softly gasped at the feeling of warm liquid pumping inside you, and it definitely wasn't the water from the hot springs.

His breaths were shaky and his body trembled beneath you. His face was bright pink from embarrassment since he didn't expect to cum so quickly.

You cupped his cheeks in yours hands and just looked at him with adoration.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, I'm actually flattered," you said, whispering the last part, "But we aren't done just yet."

-

The loud sounds of skin smacking together mixed with heavy breaths and moans filled the room like there was no tomorrow. You two managed to make your way back to the hotel room and get to work, but Tomas's attitude did a complete flip.

Underneath that lover boy, sweetheart exterior, tonight his main goal was to spread you wide and take you like you were his. because you are his, and he's yours, forever. Tomas was always the kind of man who made sure you were top priority. Nothing was changing tonight. In fact, it's being put into more practice tonight.

He had you on your side and holding your thigh in one hand while his free arm was wrapped comfortably around your neck. He couldn't help but feel obligated to give you the best time of your life after cumming so prematurely, and he knew that his bicep being so close to your face would send you into overdrive.

You were speechless. The words he uttered into your ear while he fucked into you had you stuttering and gasping. You grabbed and clawed at his arm, tears forming in the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you received, pleading he doesn't stop.

As you neared your climax, he was getting closer too, as it was all going to his head in the hottest way possible. You had never seen such a side of him even though you knew he had it in him whenever you saw him fight. But this? Oh, this was different. This was sexually frustrated, passionate Tomas, who wanted to give you everything he had.

"I'm gonna cum inside you one more time, and you'll be having twins." he said, his voice getting raspier as he gripped your thigh a little tighter. You whined and clenched around him, still unable to form words and nearly drooling from the side of your mouth.

You came first, trembling under his touch and slightly bucking once his final thrust hit your sweet spot. You were simply a mess by the time he was finished with you, and you couldn't be happier.

He, in fact, came inside you one more time. That twins line surely did a number on you. You wondered just where the hell he had been hiding this side for as long as you knew him.

You both cleaned up and finally rested, tangled in each other's arms and lovingly looking into each other's eyes.

"Where'd you learn to talk like that?" you asked in half jest, playing with his hair.

"Honestly? I was surprised myself...But I was dedicated to taking care of you on this special night. And I hope I didn't freak you out with that whole twins thing..."

You raised your eyebrow, shaking your head to reassure him. "Please, I'd have your triplets."

"Deal." he responded rather quickly, earning a playful roll of the eyes and shared laugh between you two.

----

a/n: hii if you made it to the end, just know since bi han won in the poll i posted a few days ago he will be next so stay tuned! <3 also my asks are now open i finally figured it out

[iwoszareba]

truthbound

Knave/Socothbenoth

cw: questionable use of trickster powers of mind altering variety. (if i'm allowed VtM terms something like incomplete blood bond level of problematic.) also this is love-hate, awful, evil people ship

Socothbenoth's first dialogue was taken directly from the game

_ _ _

'Satisfaction' could not begin to describe how Socothbenoth felt. How can you properly put into words the pure euphoria of seeing your plans, that were years in the making, finally come to fruition?

The look of defeat on Nocticula's face will warm his heart for decades to come. To think that all it took was the right person at the right time for everything to fall into place. That and his invaluable guidance, of course. Helping to make the Crusade a spectacle of madness was an enjoyable diversion but there was nothing more he could gain from it.

"Well, now that everything is decided... I will bid you farewell, Knave. It is time for me to look for a new frien... I mean, someone new and exciting... Someone I can lead astray. I will convince them to join the glorious ranks of fools, jesters, and lovers of funny and vulgar stories! It's been a pleasure! I know you'll miss me!"

That's what he needed: a fresh start. But for now he could just kick back and bask in the afterglow of his accomplishments until it's time to set more goals or readjust the old ones.

"Don't you want to ask if I have a parting gift for you?"

He was already reaching for the door handle but that question stopped him in his tracks. He could just leave. He should just leave. But after all the crazy things this Knave-Commander pulled off… he couldn't deny curiosity. He turned around.

"You got me something? Darling, you shouldn't have. Getting to see you grow from a confused, bloodthirsty puppy, into a distinguished creature of chaos was a gift enough."

He expected to see him as usual: all smiles, craving any scrap of his attention, practically begging. Instead Knave looked at him with an unreadable expression, head slightly tilted as if considering. Somehow that was more concerning than any of his touch too wide grins. Curiosity wasn't worth this.

"Really it's fine… just send whatever it is via messenger, maybe that mangy thief of yours can drop it off at my place when he comes to the Abyss."

He grabbed the handle and pushed but his relief was disturbed by the sharp, electric sound of magic. As he took one step through the doors, a portal brought him face to face with the Commander once again.

"I can't believe you thought you could just leave without my say-so. I would take offence at the rudeness if it wasn't so adorable."

This was not how Socothbenoth imagined this goodbye. Maybe he miscalculated, maybe he shouldn't have implied earlier that they probably will never meet again. He often forgot that some people can get attached so easily. No matter, he can play along for a while more.

"Can you blame me? I am a busy man. Especially now, when you helped to create so many new opportunities for me. Something I'll always be grateful for."

"Tsk tsk, tsk. Liar, liar pants on fire. Do you ever get tired of your own bullshit?"

Socothbenoth opened his mouth but before he could find words to rebuke such insolence Knave continued his little tirade.

"I wonder if there is a single person you have ever been truly loyal to? I doubt you see anyone in your congregation as worthy enough, your lovers are tools to be kept or discarded, the Council was always a sham… you couldn't even keep a semi-decent relation with your own sister."

Mentioning Nocticula in such fashion was a step too far and even now it made Socothbenoth wince. He gritted his teeth and tried not to snarl his next words, but they still came out as an angry hiss.

"Is there a point to this?"

There was a level of smugness to Knave that only people who delight in hitting a nerve can display. Normally an attractive trait, not so much right now.

"I know such things are not in your nature and I don't blame you for that but… I admit it does make me curious. What would happen if I took all the honeyed words you fed me and made them true? Wouldn't that be refreshing? The sense that you said something and actually meant it."

Was that something he could do? Of course Socothbenoth heard the stories of Knave's exploits in Alushinyrra. Changing someone's form was not far from fleshwarping the demon lord would perform himself or teach to his faithful, but while similar in effect, Commander's powers seemed to work under a completely different paradigm. And physical matter still was nothing compared to something as intangible as 'the truth'.

"We can just talk about thi-"

Something deep inside him hummed, as if his very essence started to slightly vibrate awaiting what is going to happen to it next.

"You already talked plenty enough. Mmm what lies have you uttered... Maybe when you said you've been looking for someone exactly like me all these years?"

He was standing still but the sensation escalated to scraping at the back of his skull and squirming inside his chest. Impatient search for remembrance followed by a swift judgement.

"That was the truth! It's not my fault the meaning wasn't quite what you desired."

Knave nodded despite not looking convinced.

"I see, then what about those times you called me special… captivating… irreplaceable?"

The last word was the one that fully did the trick and started to ring at Socothbenoth's core with near-painful veracity. He felt feverish, as if his body was fighting to reject this foreign element, something so at odds with his demonic nature. But it was too late, this… connection has already taken root, strong and true, but twisted by the environment it found itself in. Addictive in its cravings and covetous in its devotion. Socothbenoth started to laugh hard enough that tar-like tears formed in the corners of his black eyes.

"What's so funny to you?"

The look of smug satisfaction on Knave's face was first replaced by confusion and then visible distress. He grabbed his chest as if to check the sensations there. Despite everything Socothbenoth couldn't help but delight in having the upper hand again.

"Oh, I just remembered something else I've said: we were made for each other, you were made for me."

Knave blinked in surprise.

"What? I don't recall anything like that."

Socothbenoth smiled lecherously, closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Knave's waist bringing their bodies together.

"At the time I had you so deep in the throes of passion, no wonder you were a little… distracted."

"...You are lying."

It sounded as half-hearted bargaining of someone not ready to accept the reality.

"Does it feel like a lie?"

Knave was biting his bottom lip in frustration, quite a tantalising sight.

"No. I guess I made sure of that."

It was easy to expect this sentence to be punctuated with an angry groan but what followed instead was a soft rumble of laughter. Knave's next words were barely a whisper.

"It is kind of funny, when you start to think about it."

That was not really the word Socothbenoth would use to describe their situation, but if comedy is in the unexpected… he had to admit that in his long life as a demon lord he has never felt… this, whatever it was. They stood for a while in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, still wrapped in an embrace. Neither seemed willing to release the other but Knave was first to break the strange tranquillity of the moment.

"I still hate you, you know." 

Demon lord faux gasped.

"Shouldn't it be 'I love you more than anything else in this world'?" 

There was a pause for struggle between admission and denial.

"The two aren't mutually exclusive."

The amount of vitriol in his voice was delightful. The Commander was way more exciting like this compared to when he was acting all star-struck.

"I just thought you would be all pliant now."

He purred trying to rile him up more but instead Knave furrowed his eyebrows in consideration.

"I don't… fully understand what I did but I'm fairly sure it's not a compulsion nor geas. I don't have to do anything. And neither do you. If you wish, you are free to leave."

He waved his hand around in a specific but messy gesture and Socothbenoth could tell that the portal in the doors behind them deactivated. Which was a sweet sentiment but he was no longer in a hurry.

"I am a busy man but I may have another moment to spare. Other jesters and madmen will have to wait another day…"

He pulled Knave into a kiss that felt hungry to the point where it made him consider a crazy notion, that perhaps the two of them exchanged a fraction of their souls and would have to tear each other open if they wanted to get them back.

[nefkyo]

This is a wip of a personal project. Please note the tags before reading:

dream smp lore, post Doomsday era, implied character death, implied suicide, necromancy, crimeboys mope around in Limbo, mild description of a panic attack, mild description of body horror, miscommunication, tntduo is real, tntduo family who cheered, avian Quackity, ram Tubbo, Quackity is trans because I believe he can do anything

this is for @werenotacoupleyesyouare.

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

Faint footsteps echo towards him. He's back from his light jog in the tunnel that loops into itself. He heard him get frustrated fifteen minutes ago but didn't say anything. "Hi again" he says. Even in Limbo, Tommy comes back after arguing with him, sits down next to him and gives him the silent treatment. But at least he's sat down. Does nothing he says ever sting enough? No, never enough. Nothing is ever enough to drive him away, far away enough. Not even a kind invitation to never return. "I have to tell you something about the Overworld, Will." Tommy starts, only to be cut off as usual. "I've already told you, I don't want to know whatever you have to say when you start off like that." "It's really big." Tommy looks up at him, or at least in his general direction, and for a brief moment he sees a sort of pity gloss over those blank orbs. It irks him. "I *really* don't want to know, then." he groans.

"But- How are you not even a little bit curious?"

"With the way you're looking at me, I'd rather keep whatever dignity I have left through ignorant bliss."

"H- That's nothing like you."

"Yeah, well, maybe I've changed."

"You have."

He quickly diverts his eyes back towards the train tracks. Still, cold, unforgivingly grey and dirty. "Will you tell me anyway if I say no?" Wilbur asks, he has before, and he shakes his head, he has before. "Good. Because you told me that it's a secret you were told to take to the grave." he continues. Tommy perks up then, "See?" he says, a knowing smile "That's why I should be able to tell someone else that secret now, especially you!" "You know that's not how the saying is supposed to be interpreted. It doesn't matter how important it could be, Toms," he mumbles into the pitch black horizon, "once you tell me, what would I be left to do about it? I'm dead, we're dead. I'd just spend eternity asking you why you didn't keep your mouth shut." "Yeah, but--" "Just forget about it." Tommy makes a series of noises out of frustration and then stands up, arms crossed, as he starts wandering around again. Wilbur is starting to get tired of watching him do this every time, especially with the way he phases through the shadows of the platform like nothing. "That's such bullshit! How am I supposed to forget?" "By talking about something else?" "No! It's- If anything, it's the evil shit you've been saying lately that makes it harder to choose!" "I haven't said anything necessarily "evil" lately." Wilbur shrugs, angering the blond again. It doesn't take much. "You're constantly praising Dream!" he exclaims, "you praise him, the bastard who took our lands and killed me when I tried to avenge you!" "You weren't avenging me Tommy, we both know you were in Pandora's Box to mock him and avenge yourself." Wilbur corrects him as if he'd seen the whole scene himself. He hasn't, but he got the crude details narrowed down. "Besides, if he's got this necromancy thing down, you have to give him some credit." "Well he probably fucking doesn't, it's been three months! I feel it on my skin!" "Yeah, I know." "And he has not revived me, the green bitch, so my point still stands! A-And you wouldn't feel the same about him if I told you The Thing!" Tommy defends, but once again, Wilbur refuses to hear whatever The Thing. "I'm just saying, if Dream has all this arcane power at his fingertips, then I see him in a new light. I'd be honored to pick his brain at this time." "You would NOT." Tommy groans, but he sits back down.

"...Is The Thing going to make me angry?" he asks suddenly. Tommy nods, his eyes would light up with surprise if there was any life behind them. "Probably." "Is it going to make me hate Dream like before?" "Maybe. Not directly, at least." Wilbur thinks about it for a hard, long minute before he answers. "Fine, tell me." he sighs. Tommy seems to make some mental gymnastics beforehand, then, when he feels ready, he speaks. "I know you and Quackity were dating during Pogtopia, he told me. And... He laid an egg a few days after you died."

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

Wilbur is stunned into silence, frozen in place as the information makes its way to his brain. Not the first part of the information, of course, who cares about that. "Are you..." he stammers, "...Are you serious?" "Yeah, uh... Yours, obviously. The egg." Tommy shrugs, but this is not a casual matter at all. "I promised Big Q I wouldn't tell anyone you were the father, but you should know. She was doing ok the last time I saw her, she looks like you." "She? I-It hatched, the egg hatched?" "Yeah." "Is she healthy?" he asks, his voice constricts in his throat, and Tommy just nods quietly. It takes him a long time to accept that information. He repeats it under his breath, over and over. "A daughter. I have a daughter." he whispers, and Tommy just stares ahead as usual. Tommy touches the back of his head uncomfortably, where the gash that killed him sits in its crimson glory. "Quackity told her about you, showed her pictures of L'Manberg and everything, but... Y'know, more in a symbolic way, she probably doesn't actually know anything." "So..." he hesitates. It's like someone just tossed his brain onto the train tracks. "...So that whole story you told me about Quackity starting that project, the casino, that was a lie then?" "Oh no, I didn't lie about that. He really was building a casino last I saw him." Tommy says. "He called it Las Nevadas." "Yeah, he.. He told me that's what he would've called it." his voice dies out. Wilbur thinks about Quackity, what he could look like now. Their daughter, their daughter must be a little lady now. Does he make her play in the casino? Does she deal cards with him? "When *did* you guys start dating anyway? Like, before the elections or during Pogtopia?" Tommy breaks his thought patterns suddenly. "Because I'll remind you, *you* were the one saying not to fraternize with other candidates at the votes and I will never let you live it down." "Shut up," Wilbur sighs in response, and he knows he would usually smile at this kind of tease, but he doesn't. Even if the images of those times still make something bloom in him. "We started dating *during* Pogtopia, after the festival fiasco. We'd watch over Tubbo together, console each other, as usual. It just felt different that time around." he mutters.

"Dude, ew. Tubbo was unconscious and you were kissing in there?!"

"No- No no no, what? We didn't kiss in his room, we just- we talked about it, our feelings. *Then*, after he recovered, we kissed. Completely separate occasion."

"Right. I'm gonna believe that for the sake of my sanity."

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

So Tommy is now stuck answering whatever Wilbur may ask about her, about this kid nobody has ever seen more than once or twice. But when he's voluntarily about to tell him her name, Wilbur orders him not to. "Are you sure?" Tommy says, but he's already moved on to other questions.

"Does she have brown eyes?"

"I don't know, I only saw her while she was sleeping."

"So how could you tell if she was healthy if she wasn't awake?"

"Well, Quackity would've probably said if she was sick with something."

"Did she ever chirp like a duckling?"

"She did a few times."

His baby girl, nuzzled in the arms of her father, chirping in her sleep. He can't picture her, but he wants to. "Does he miss me?" he asks suddenly. "Quackity. Does he miss me?" "Well... I think he did. He was skittish of other people, he didn't really want to talk about you much. He didn't even want Phil seeing her." "Phil doesn't know about her?" Wilbur jumps up a little, and Tommy tilts his head slightly. "I think he's seen her at least once. He doesn't know that she's yours, Quackity didn't tell him." "Why?" Wilbur asks, but then he stops and thinks about it. Of course.

There's another stretch of silence. Wilbur sighs heavily and thinks on how everyone knows about a child that he can't even picture. "Do you... Do you think that I could've been a good father?" he asks with wishful thinking on his tongue. "Yeah, you wish! You couldn't even keep yourself alive, man." Tommy chimes with another tease. But after staring out into the dark for another long few minutes, he shrugs. "Maybe. Maybe you could've been." "Ouch." Wilbur smirks briefly then, only then. They're both contemplating a thousand different thoughts a minute.

"Would I have gotten to see her if I'd lived?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Did he hate me when I...?"

"Oh yeah, a lot." he nods. "He screamed a lot, then he went quiet and didn't say anything about you again." he actually turns to look at him - in his general direction at least - and with a voice below a whisper, with that same, angering pity in his eyes all over again, "Why didn't you tell him?" he asks. "I get that you didn't tell me what you were going to do, but him? Why didn't you tell him if you loved him so much?" he feels the faint taste of bile, just for a split second, before he replies with a very weak excuse. "Because I knew that if I did..." He sighs. Now he sees why he and Tommy keep secrets from each other, why they don't want to hurt each other with the truth. "...I knew that he'd never let me die. He would've done anything to keep me alive, and my brain was so set on it, so sure that I *needed* to die. He would've gotten in my way, just like you always did. And I couldn't do that to him, to you, to anyone else."

He remembers it. The night he had a breakdown so violent he almost told him his plans, thinking he was about to die from rabies anyway. In the dark, damp tunnels, pain stinging in his trembling arm, bite marks and blood and a sensory overload. Quackity held him up and looked at him with eyes of horror and repressed despair and kept telling him "It's ok, it's gonna be ok, it was just a wolf," while disinfecting the wound, pressing hard on the gauze. He looked at him and said "Q, I'm so sorry, I--" but before he could find the word that came after that "I", he froze. He couldn't tell him. So he said "I'm scared", which wasn't really a lie, and Quackity held him through that too.

Wilbur sighs as he snaps himself out of it. "Could you tell him that I'm sorry?" he mumbles. "If Dream finally decides to stop playing games and bring me back to life?" Tommy asks "Sure. But how would I let you know what he said?" "I don't need to know." Wilbur replies quickly, then, after a pause, his brother nods. "Ok."

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

A week, maybe a month, maybe an hour later, a train came to the station and actually stopped. Wilbur was sleeping on the floor as usual when the screech of gears and wheels halting startled him awake. He looked up, at the opening doors, at the bright lights inside the car, and he felt this faint rise in his stomach, this feeling that told him exactly where the train was headed. And he must admit, he got excited. A tall, long figure stepped out, a blank face in a dark green cloak walked past him and grabbed Tommy, whose blind eyes darted around in confusion. "Wilbur?" he said, he spoke and Wilbur said "Toms?" with the same tone. "Wilbur, I think he's taking me back!" he exclaims, but he doesn't sound happy at all. "That's ok, I'm right behin--" he tries to stand up as he says it, but a force he can't explain, a pull keeps him seated. He can't go, of course he can't go. He doesn't deserve to go. So he starts again, trying to use that same voice of enthusiasm. "That's great Tommy, that's great! Be careful out there, don't come back here too soon!" he tries to joke, but Tommy doesn't seem glad to hear his voice so far away, to not *see* him when they're just a step from each other. The tall figure keeps a thin hand on the back of Tommy's head. "Will, I'll find a way to make you come back too!" "Don't do that, Tommy, don't try that!" he warns, but Tommy doesn't seem to be listening anymore already. The train doors start closing, one by one, now Tommy isn't even looking around anymore, he's frozen, catatonic. That's when Wilbur realizes, "TOMMY! You didn't tell me her name! Tommy! Tell me her name!" he screams, his voice rasps and the figure, the long, tall, white face in a dark green cloak puts a finger to his mouth to shush him, though it has no lips of its own. "TOMMY, HER NAME!" he begs, he feels as heavy as the day he died. Tommy mouths something, his lips quiver and make a word but the shrill of the metal doors makes it unintelligible. Then, the train departs. Wilbur feels a gust of wind, of life, trailing behind those giant tin cans that just took his brother back to the land of the living. And then it's gone.

All that's left is an empty train station. Nothing but dust on the track, and the echo of the train's wheels as it leaves the tunnel. Wilbur is alone again. That's what makes it hurt the most, really—he was right there! He had a chance, even the smallest, slimiest chance in hell, that he could've seen his own kid. That he could've kept Tommy safe with him too. Now it's gone. All that he has left is to wait, once again, for the wheels that will bring them all back together. Time is never kind to souls that refuse to move on. Wilbur has lost track, how long has he been here? That's another thing he should've asked him, isn't it ? He can think about a moment in time, remember something about himself on the surface and use it as a measurement, but those memories are all slowly fading away. Maybe that's for the best, he can't keep thinking about the people he knows, can't look back if he wants to move forward, so he waits. He waits, he waits, he waits. One day is another, and another, and another.

The train comes again. This time he's not weighed down by anything, by anyone, but he doesn't want to get on. The long, tall figure with a blank face in dark green cloak walks out, dragging from the scruff a pathetic, limp soul. He throws him out onto the pavement, a ghost that looks exactly like him. They stare at each other and they feel so terrified of the other. They can't tell who is more person, but now there's this twisted realization in both of them, that they're not the original. He tries to say anything to him, but he can't, and he doesn't either. And once they're done stalling, trading places, the figure begins to drag him in. "Wait, wait! H-he's part of me, let me get him!" he protests, but the figure doesn't let him. Some things must be sacrificed. The ghost sits in his place and looks at him with neon blue tears brimming in his eyes. As the doors close, he knows he has the other's mission now, just not what it is. He stares into the mirror image of himself, his face hollowed out from burn scars along his cheeks. It's the same in everything other than that. The way he sits, the way he slumps. He frowns, but he's not mad, really. It's just a part of him that will carry out this burden. It'll have to, whether he likes it or not. The train rumbles to a start again, he waves at himself, he waves back faintly but starts sobbing loudly soon after, almost louder than the train's screams. There's this understanding between them that they are not the same person, they could never have been, and this switch was bound to happen, whether the other thought he'd done enough up there or not. So, cheers to the other guy. Everything goes dark as they enter the tunnel, darker than death has been so far. The figure puts a thin hand on his back and he hates it, he hates it so much.

Time passes incredibly fast, all at once, faster than Limbo, faster than life. He feels vertigo pull his body in all directions, pulling his neck backwards, his chest forward, his back up, his legs down. For the first time in such a very long time, pressure enters his body. His body has depth. He sees a light, ironic, oh so ironic that he wants to go towards it but instead feels himself being pulled away from it. He fights the current, the figure stares, unaffected. He pushes through the barrier, the train shakes and rattles and screeches. He doesn't dare look.

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

The cold, dewy air of an April's early morning fills his lungs. Lungs, he has those. He has to get used to that feeling again before he opens his eyes. His head spins, his whole body hurts like hell. Air shudders out of him violently, like a spring has just jumpstarted the valves in his system and now he's feeling the reebot. He tries to move his arms and legs, and he succeeds, but the pain that shoots through his body makes it hard to enjoy the discovery. Every joint and bone screams at him, every suture. Suture? He lifts his hand, tentatively, carefully to his eye. Stitches. Along his wrists, the creases of his fingers, his legs, his ankles. He's been pieced back together into a single string of flesh. By who? He knows who. He doesn't care, for now. For now he's alive. He groans, and for the first time in over a decade he hears his voice without echo, he can feel heat around him, his nerves are full of blood. His body aches in places that he didn't even know could hurt, but maybe he's never been more glad. And he's laying in front of a small altar, a memorial to his name, literally. Strangely enough he can still read, and his name is written at the bottom of the marble. There are drapes of the old L'Manberg flag hanging unceremoniously over his date of birth, flowers - mostly wilted - have been left beside pictures of him. And a single, still lit lantern sits near his boots. His boots? It's strange, but he's almost certain this isn't how he was dressed when he died. He uses the flat marble surface to hoist himself up again, the weight of his own body might make him throw up if he thinks about it too hard. He glances all around. Everything is empty, quiet—like a museum. Except it's not, this looks more like a rocky pit overgrown with nature. He groans aloud, the pain is excruciating but he tries to focus on the sights around him. His body wants to shut down once more, but despite the overwhelming weight of the world that's bearing down on him, he can't let his mind slip away again. He must keep going. He stands up, head bobbing slightly. This doesn't feel like any afterlife or secondary plane, it feels like the Overworld. It just *feels* like it. He stares up, he looks as far as he can squint, at the hills of exposed rock covered in dew and moss. These are ruins alright. He wants to laugh, but he just sneers. Someone built him a memorial over the ruins of what he destroyed, it's like making a plaque for the potted plant that fell on the pavement and made a crack, except the potted plant was him, and the crack was more of an abysmal crater. He squints at the ruins in front of him, everything is still and silent. Not one sound but the wind. Not one person but himself. It's all here in front of him, in this broken down splinter of what used to be L'Manberg. There's a sense of finality in the air, but it's not sad, it feels like an ending. He feels the air chill his breath and the cold ground underneath his feet. But it's a different feeling from what he was experiencing when he was dead.

Not anymore, apparently.

He hears those footsteps behind him, hurrying, running on stone and wood. Two, no, three people, and at least one other creature. He turns around in time to find himself smiling at a horrified Tommy, a very drained, jittery Tommy, with a blue sheep on a leash, and then Tubbo and... An Enderman in a suit. Tommy walks towards him carefully, maybe a little cathartically, like one walks up to a heaving rabbit they just shot with an arrow. "Oh, you fuck." "Hello again." he says, and he can't help laugh at his little audience. Tommy is looking *at* him, and he's cussing him out, it's just like the old times. Nothing's changed! Well, besides everything else. "Hi Wilbur!" Tubbo waves from the back of this posse - when did he get so tall?! "Is... is this real?" he asks, breaking the teethering tension. "Yeah. Where's Ghostbur?" Tommy asks back, and he can't answer that. He was expecting anything, a 'Welcome back', a clear indicator that he was anywhere near missed, but instead he's asked where the other guy is. The better version, he imagines. "Oh, he's... He took my place in Limbo." the words just sort of slip out of him. "He WHAT?? How do we get him back??" "I-I don't know, I just got here! I'm back." he shrugs as he speaks, like this was supposed to be obvious. He's still taking everything in, glancing at the blue sheep and the enderman, still mostly paying attention to the sound of his breathing and the feeling of the solid ground underneath his feet. So *real.* "You're supposed to act at least a little bit happy to see me." he mutters. "W-We are." Tommy forces out, but he doesn't want to move towards him any further. "So why aren't you coming here? Hey, it's me! It's me, man!" "I-I didn't think you'd-- trade places with him. I thought you'd be all in one piece together. I didn't even have a ghost, why'd you split?!" "I-I don't know." and Wilbur really doesn't know, but it feels weird not to lie anymore. "Tommy, we just got him back, can you guys not complain about each other already?" Tubbo chimes in, sliding past Tommy to walk over and hug Wilbur. It's an instant regret. It feels strange, uncomfortable, irritating like a stubble rash. But Tubbo's heart is in the right place, so he lets him. He instigated it anyway. Then the sheep tries to sniff his leg. "Oh god don't tell me I have to hug the sheep as well" was not a thought, or sentence in general, that Wilbur ever thought he'd hear himself saying, but thankfully he doesn't have to. "That's Friend," Tubbo says as he steps back "Ghostbur befriended it and we- we thought he'd be here, so we were gonna take it to him." he hears a faint and shy "and I'm Ranboo..." from behind Tommy. "Yeah that's Ranboo. They're here too." Tubbo nods, taking Friend's leash to hand it over to the creature. "...Charmed." Wilbur says, a little too focused on the other matters at hand and, quite frankly, a little unsure whether he can look them in the eyes or not.

"Y'know, you look like you haven't aged." he tells Tubbo as they accompany his out of the caved in rock. "Really? I reckon I actually look different, like, my horns came in, fuckin' finally. Didn't you notice?" he asks when he puts his head down to show him. A set of horns, already scratched in. "I mean, yeah, I did. Looking good." "Thanks bossman." "It's just... I thought you'd be... Older, older than... This." Tommy and Tubbo share a glance, then look back at him. "How long have I been dead?" he has to ask the two. He has to ask before he starts moving his legs in any direction and he doesn't stop, it's getting hard to sit still. "About a year and a half." Tommy says something finally. "A year?! A year and a half??" he spits out. "A fuckin' lot's happened, Will, and I need you to promise that you're not gonna say some weird shit about Dream being cool or--" but Wilbur is too busy laughing incredulously at how little time has passed since he died. "A year and a half, are you kidding?? I was dead for thirteen and a half years, Tommy!" "I- No, Will. You weren't dead that long, it's just a Limbo thing."

He stares at them both, his smile evaporating, his breath catching. "No, there's no way. I feel so... I feel jaded, jaded and stuffy, Tommy!" There's no way he was only gone for so little time, it's impossible. He could swear on his life that he was alone for so much longer, there's no way his own memory could deceive him like this. But Tommy looks almost the same as when they last saw each other in Limbo, Tubbo's just a little taller than before. It's the landscape, that's what really changed. He can feel the rushing of wind from nearby cracks in the stone, he can feel the need to look through them. "I mean, no offense, you look older than you're supposed to be..." Tubbo says, cocking his head slightly. "Did you know you've got white hair?" "I got white hair too, after I was revived." Tommy points out. Wilbur hasn't even had the chance to think about a mirror, he's just wandering off, staring out into the sky, the blooming dawn. If he's not thirteen years older, then his daughter, who's out there somewhere, isn't a teenager. She might still need him. Quackity might still need him. His soles find a step and he stares down at a sea of glass. If regret needed a preview, it would look like what's underneath it. "Is this L'Manberg?"

[dusteebowl]

When the party's over

pairing: Baptiste x Mauga

warnings: slightly spicy. nothing explicit, but its implied that they did the horizontal tango before the start of the fic, unrequited love, hurt but no comfort

rating: T

a/n: I wrote this in like 30 minutes, do not judge me. also i have no idea what the interactions between mauga and bap are like in game yet but we can all agree there was some kind of situationship going on, right? also, if you find yourself in Baptiste's position, run girl. you're too good for him

“Don’t you know I’m no good for you?”

Baptiste looked up at Mauga who was lying next to him, both of them naked as the day they were born. He hadn’t meant for it to go this far again, but when his friend had sent him a text asking him to come to the Talon Med Bay at 1 am, what was left of his judgement had gone out the window.

The audacity wasn’t lost on him, however. Mauga was the one that had sent the message, and now he dared to tell him he wasn’t good enough for him.

“Why do you keep contacting me outside of work then?” Baptiste pointed out now.

The tank chuckled. It was the one that Baptiste could barely resist, and he had to force himself not to feel the butterflies in his stomach from it.

“I mean to say,” his companion said, “that you don’t come here expecting there to be feelings and sentiment and that bullshit, right?”

I learned to leave you, can’t afford to.

“Of course not,” Baptiste said. “I’m an adult, Mauga.”

It was a lie, though. Not that he didn’t know there weren’t feelings on Mauga’s part. But that some part of Baptiste, however small it was, really wanted to believe that eventually maybe there could. “But you nearly gave me a heart attack when you told me you got hurt on your latest mission. There are other medics in Talon, you know.”

Mauga smirked. “I know, but none of their bedside manner’s as great as yours. Neither is their, well, should I say post-op care?”

Baptiste snorted despite himself. “I’d hardly call wrapping a few bandages around your wounds an operation. You’re lucky I’d been in the Talon dorms when you texted at all.”

He wasn’t.

Tore my shirt to stop the bleeding

Another smirk, and before he knew it Mauga’s lips were on his own leaving the medic absolutely breathless. It dizzied him and made him see stars. They fit so well together and were always so soft, no matter where he placed them. How could he make him so thoroughly drunk on his scent every time? So absolutely intoxicated with his touch? It was addictive.

 The medic placed his hand on Mauga’s cheek to pull him closer. He wanted to be utterly lost in him, but before it could go any further, the larger man pulled away from the kiss he himself initiated.

“What can I say? You’re my lucky charm.”

He said it so easily, like he hadn’t given Baptiste the kiss of his life. Meanwhile Baptiste fought to keep his breathing under control.

Before he could even get his bearings right after that mind-blowing kiss, he felt rather than saw the bed shift next to him and heard Mauga grunting as he put his clothes back on. The tank must have seen the look on his face because he quirked up one of his eyebrows. “What? Don’t tell me you were expecting me to stay?”

Yes. “No, of course not.”

But nothing ever stops you leaving

Mauga chuckled again. “Thought you’d gone all soft on me, Bap.”

“Never.”

Without so much as a look back, Mauga bid farewell and left the room, taking his warmth with him.

Quiet when I’m coming home, and I’m on my own.

It could’ve been 15 minutes that Baptiste stared at that door. He didn’t know. He hadn’t expected that last kiss. The two of them hardly kissed after. There was never any cuddling, either. A part of him hoped that maybe this was the time he would come back, that he would rush through the door, sweep him off his feet and—

“Jesus, I’m acting like a child,” he muttered to himself. “Really Baptiste? One kiss is all it takes to send you spiraling?”

Yes. Yes, it was.

No, it was better that the arrangement stayed the way it was. For the both of them. The world was a dangerous place, and they couldn’t afford to be distracted. Out there on the field when there were enemies everywhere, even one moment of hesitation could be life and death.

It was better like this. Definitely.

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

[mxltifxnd0m]

𝗠𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

Summary: He still loves you, but you’ve already moved on without him.

Pairings: past!Tom Holland x fem!Reader (implied famous reader)

Word count: 2K+

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

Warnings: a smidge of fluff, angst, some cursing, a sad ending

Flashbacks will be in italics

A/N: I’m back for now, due to Conan’s new album releasing, which has sparked some inspiration and motivation for me to write this angsty one-shot. Also, if you guys guessed who her new boyfriend was since I dropped a couple of hints, you get a gold star! (i might start writing for him but I’m still on the fence about it lol) 

Also. thank you to the love of my life @songofpatrochilless for beta reading for me and i love you a lot <3

𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

Lyrics used: “I can't be your friend, can't be your lover

Can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love

With somebody other than me”

“I wish that you would stay in my memories”

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

He shouldn’t be here. He knows that, but here he is on your doorstep, hesitating to knock on the door. The only reason he hasn’t knocked on your door is that his mind is drowning in memories of the two of you together, and of the last time, he saw you standing at this same doorway. 

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

11 months ago

“I can’t keep doing this anymore.” You tell Tom wearily. 

“Doing what?” He asks you exasperatedly. You gesture between the two of you, standing across from him, chest heaving from the screaming match that just occurred.

“This, Tom! The constant arguments we’ve been having lately, you going out more and more, not telling me where or who you’re going out with, and not coming back until 3 am,” you sigh tiredly, massaging your temples to try to relieve some of the stress and frustration you feel, “I feel more like a roommate that you sleep with than an actual girlfriend.” 

“You are my girlfriend,” Tom says weakly. “ Well, it sure doesn’t feel that way, Thomas.” Tom winces at the mention of his full name, only ever used in anger, just like now. 

“Why can’t you tell me what’s going on with you Tom, something is going on, and you won’t let me in.” Tom clenches his jaw and looks away from your eyes. How is he supposed to tell you that he cheated on you? He does love you, he loves you with all of his heart, but god he couldn’t resist her. 

“I’m fine.” He grits out. 

“See now that’s just bullshit!” You exclaim, fed up with him being so closed off when all you want him to do is open up and just talk to you. 

“All I want for you to do is just talk to me, Tom.” The words end in a whisper, the frustration seeping out and turning into heartbroken desperation.

Your voice softer than earlier. 

Tom just stares at you, debating whether or not he should tell you the truth or not. You stare right back at him, you can almost see the gears working in his head, and there’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite decipher. 

Guilt?

What was he guilty about?

What did he do?

After a few moments of silence, Tom clears his throat, and you look at him expectantly.

“I umm, I fucked up and I-. shit, I cheated on you.” Tom blurts out. He winces at how blunt his response was and studies your face at you for any changes in emotion. 

You just stood there, your face not showing any emotions you may be feeling right now, but you felt your heart crack and shatter. Tom can see your eyes start to water and he instinctively reaches out to you to try to comfort you. You step back and he falters. You rub your face in hopes you don’t start crying and wrap your arms around yourself as a form of comfort. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, “Oh.” You look down at your feet, suddenly interested in the rug you’re standing on.

“That’s all you’re going to say, ‘Oh?’ Tom asks you. “Well, what do you want me to say when your boyfriend tells you that they cheated on you!” You raise your voice as you finish your sentence. 

Tom just stays silent, looking around the apartment, avoiding your eyes. You say something so quietly that Tom barely heard it. 

“What did you just say?” 

“I’m done.” You say louder. 

“You’re done? With what?” Tom asks stupidly. 

“I’m done with you, the fighting, and this relationship.”

“Wait no, babe, let's talk about this.” Tom starts to sputter out excuses but you just raise your hand to cut him off. 

“No Tom, I thought we could work this out, the arguments, and whatnot. I trusted you fully and even confided in you that in the past this has happened to me before. The funny thing is that you promised me that you weren’t like the others I dated, but I guess we were both wrong.” You were so close to breaking down in front of Tom but you wanted to wait until he left.

Before he could get a word out, you interrupt him, “I hope she was worth our relationship Tom. But get out and stay out.” 

And he did. 

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

You hear faint knocks on your door. You don’t think anything of it and snuggle more into the warm body that’s right next to you. Then you hear the knocks become louder, and you look at your alarm clock on your nightstand to see that it was 2:45 am and groan softly. 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” You grumble. Now the hard part was getting out of your boyfriend's grip. You try to ease out of his arms as best you can but you’re unsuccessful and he wakes up. 

“Why are you up m’love?” He asks you while tightening his arms around you. 

“Someone’s knocking on the door and I know you have an early morning so I was going to get it.” You tell Harry. 

He lets go of you, “Come back quick, need your cuddles to keep warm.” You just smile at him and kiss his forehead before going to answer the door. 

At this point, the knocking has become incessant and without checking the peephole, you whip open the door to see the last person you wanted to see at 2:45 in the morning.

There stands Tom Holland, soaking wet from the rain, his brown eyes bloodshot, and you can smell alcohol coming from him. He trails his eyes up and down your body, he sees you’re wearing fluffy socks, some shorts that get hidden by the oversized hoodie you’re wearing, and “pleasing” is written across the hoodie, which sounds familiar to Tom.

Shocked, you ask him why he’s at your doorstep. 

“I don’t know.” He slurs out. 

Sighing, you gesture for him to come inside and close the door behind you. You rest your forehead on the door, the cool temperature calming you down for the shitshow that is about to happen. 

“I’m going to ask you again, why are you here at 3 in the morning?” 

He just shrugs and heads to the kitchen in a drunken stupor. Confused, you follow him to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. 

Tom does know why he’s here, he’s missed you a lot. But he wouldn’t admit that to anyone, so he buried himself in his work and went to parties every other night to avoid his feelings about you. The reason he had set off tonight and drank more than he usually does was an article. He read the headline, “Y/N L/N has a new beau?” and saw a picture of you with sunglasses, a hat, and a mask holding a tattooed arm while turning the corner. They hadn’t managed to take a picture of the person you were with, but the fans were able to identify the tattoos belonging to a certain celebrity. 

You realize that Tom isn’t going to say anything, so you debate about throwing him out but you aren’t that cruel, so you just pull a water bottle from the fridge and hand it to him. He accepts it and starts to drink it. 

“I missed you,” Tom says breaking the silence that had settled between the two of you. You don’t say anything which prompts Tom to continue. 

“After we separated, I was a mess and I am still a mess. I buried myself with alcohol and parties to distract from the emptiness that was there and tonight I wasn’t planning on going out but then I saw that article about you and something in me snapped. One thing led to another and I somehow ended up here.” 

You stay silent after his drunken rant, processing his words and letting out a heavy sigh. 

“Are you going to say something, anything?” Tom pleads.

“What do you want me to say, Tom?” 

“I don’t know,” He admits, “I thought it would have taken longer to move on from you.” 

“So you just showed up at 3 in the morning to confess that you still miss me?” You scoff. 

“No, you don’t get to do that, Tom. I didn’t show up drunk at your apartment every time I saw you out with the person you cheated on me with.” You shake your head in disbelief at Tom.

 “It took me months for me to get over you and trust someone to get into a relationship with.”

“And now you’re here half-drunk in my kitchen just because you were jealous at the fact I had finally moved on. God, I wish that you would stay in my memories.” You seethe out at Tom and he recoils at your words. 

“No, it isn’t like that.” Tom slightly raises his voice. 

“No? Then please explain, Tom. Explain why you thought it was a good idea to cheat on me first and then get jealous when I’m finally happy with someone else other than you!” You yelled, frustration lacing every word.  

“Because I still love you !” Tom shouts. 

You both fall silent at his admission, the only sounds are the labored breathing coming from both you and Tom, and the rain pattering on the windows. You hear a creak in the floorboard and you whip around to see your boyfriend out of bed rubbing his eyes.

“What’s happenin’ here?” He asks tiredly. Tom’s body tenses at the sight of your new boyfriend and his jaw clenched before looking down at his water bottle.

“Shit babe, I forgot you were asleep still.”

“S’fine lovie. Why is he here.” He gestures to Tom with a nod of his head. 

“He decided to pick up the stuff he left here.”

“At 3 am?” Harry questions.

You leave the kitchen and pull your boyfriend into the hallway leading to your shared bedroom. You explained the situation to him. 

“And he just confessed to still loving me and that’s when you came in.” You rubbed your forehead in frustration and Harry grabs your hand from your face, presses a few kisses to it, and rubs circles into it.

“Do you want me to handle it?” He asks you. 

“No, I can do it, just go back to bed and I’ll be there shortly.” 

Harry nods and kisses your forehead, making you slightly melt, and heads back to the bedroom. Tom watches the entire interaction with his jaw tight, squeezing the life out of the water bottle, and filled with jealousy. Turning back into the kitchen you grab the bag that is filled with Tom’s stuff you packed a couple of months ago, and you hand it to him once you reach the kitchen. 

“Look, Tom, you just can’t spring up the fact that you still love me since I don’t feel that way anymore, I can't be your friend, can't be your lover, can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love with somebody other than me.”

Tom is hurt but he just nods in understanding, taking the bag filled with his stuff, you both head to the door. Before he leaves he says something. 

“Can I- umm, could I get one last hug?” He asks you shyly, almost embarrassed.

You soften at his words and wordlessly say yes by opening your arms and wrapping your arms around him. He shoves his face into your neck, breathing it in like he’s trying to commit it to memory. You felt some wetness on your neck but didn’t say anything and let him hug you. After a while, he lets go and sniffles a bit but smiles at you.

“Do you have a ride?” You ask him while opening the door for him. 

“No but I think I’ll be fine, the rain will help me sober up a bit more.” He tells you as he steps out of the apartment 

You just raise an eyebrow at him but nod anyway. Before you close your door, Tom whispers, “Goodbye.” 

“Bye Tom, I wish you well.” You tell him softly before shutting the door completely. 

You rest your head on the door before returning to bed with your boyfriend. 

[coulsonlives]

That person's attempt to smear the roleplayer's rules is astonishing, sheesh. I wanted to thank you for dispelling it, and say I agree with your reply! Because I had similar rules once upon a time.

Basically, I did collaborative writing for over 15 years. In the end, I had a rules page that was fairly no-nonsense too. Mainly because over that time, I met hundreds of people with various quirks. Some partners were very incompatible with me, and I quickly learned the reasons why, but others stuck around and we hit it off really well, and I learned the reasons for that, too. Over time, those bits and pieces of knowledge made it into my rules. Specifically... I block people if they expose me to dumb drama. I don't do public url shaming because of the dirty laundry aspect. And I don't do purity culture bullshit. I avoid people with DNI lists in general, because those lists are usually just performative bullshit. And I only write with people who tend to be descriptive, because I love description and hate one-liners; it doesn't feed my imagination or fulfill me as a writer or reader. It's also pretty soul-sucking if I write 3,000 words and someone gives me a single line that isn't even 10 words back, haha. I also tried to write with multiple partners who'd only ever written one-liners and tiny paras, and they expected me to teach them how to write novellas on the fly. I was like, how on earth would I have the time or energy for that?! Am I getting paid?! I just want to write, without also feeling like I had to keep tabs on someone else's writing, too. It wasn't long before that became a rule - I couldn't teach people how to write longform stuff. I just didn't have the capacity. And that's just how these rules are born. It's not malicious, it just happens with experience and knowing your own limits, and being responsible enough to articulate them for others.

Anyways, informing a possible roleplay partner about these things is not a fucking "friendship contract" like OP implied. It's a courtesy. A heads-up along the lines of, "we're doing collaborative writing, and investing a lot of time into this. The least we can do is ensure things go smoothly, and ensure we're on the same page about our preferences, our overall sensibilities, and what we want to achieve with our characters and our writing." Because some of these collabs last years. OP wants to talk about something being a contract? I've seen rules that were super nasty, demanding, and micromanaging to the point of making you wonder how the person even functioned. The OOP doesn't come close to that. I've even seen a rules page that was 15,000 words, and it took me a whole damn evening to read through it. But even that wasn't a contract, or nasty. The person had memory issues due to a disability, and most of the page was explaining their complex tagging system, and telling people what to expect when they were writing together. Could they have chopped it in half? Maybe. But it, like OOP, isn't worthy of ridicule.

My own rules page never became overbearing, but it did become more informative for possible partners, and that was helpful for everyone in the end. It saved us so much time, and it helped me find so many amazing partners - people who had very similar mindsets to my own! Knowing that, the person in the screen cap is definitely not alone; I could pull up ten names who have the same kind of rules page right now, and who made it that way for precisely the same reasons I did. And I'm sure I could find ten more within minutes, because any roleplayer who's been around for long enough will have boundaries like the above ones, or more. Of course, sometimes even other roleplayers (usually ones who are very green to the scene) will balk at these rules, but it's essentially because they're uninformed (like OP and the other commenters in that post), and they haven't experienced what the more seasoned roleplayers have. They act like it's overkill but as time goes on, most of them will ultimately adopt the same stuff, lol. I've seen it happen.

As for the other stuff, yeah, it's all just basic blog and follower maintenance. Most roleplayers dislike having mutuals they don't actively interact and roleplay with, because it's inefficient, and they especially don't like following someone who isn't even following them back, because most of the time, it means they won't be able to write with that person.

Of course, I don't roleplay any more because of all the anti bullshit, but yeah. People like OP submitter can meet me in the damn pit, I'm old and I have zero fucks to give when it comes to defending sensible communication in the RPC. Which is all OOP is doing. There should be more of that.

Anyways, cheers. And sorry for the long-ass ask.

Legend! All of this tbh. 🙌 Also didn't fail to notice that most of the rules you mentioned were just common sense courtesy, "be a good human being" things that nobody should actually have a problem with reading in the first place.

[ishouldreallygetofftheinternet]

What if I just had a breakdown here because it's the only fucking social media that won't end my fucking career, not that I have one, if I say how I'm actually feeling. I don't want 12.4k people over on Instagram to know that I'm a self-hating, self-harming, self-serving piece of shit with extremely treatment resistant depression, that I know will never, ever even get a tiny bit better but I wish to god I could delude myself into believing that it would to give any one of the six different meds I'm on, or the TMS a fighting chance.

And don't anyone dare come at me with a *hugs, or a *pat, or a "none of that is true!" because it is. Even implied digital physical contact makes me squick. I have heard it all a million fucking times and I don't want to fucking hear it ever again. Even in this state, I know that's going to hurt some people to hear. But it's how I've felt this entire goddamn time and I only haven't said anything because my fucking feelings don't matter. I have to be as small and as palatable for my chosen people as I possibly can be and if I dare hurt their feelings I should slit my fucking wrists, claw my insides outside until I'm covered in my own vile blood, kill myself in as painful and as grisly a way as possible.

And I have these thoughts and visions constantly. They never go away and they never will and I wish so fucking desperately that I could make them a reality. That I wasn't a fucking coward and I had the guts to kill myself, and actually fucking succeed for once in my pathetic life. And I know I've used this turn of phrase already, but this is my fucking breakdown and if I don't give a fuck then no one else gets to: don't you dare come at me with the "it's actually braver to go on living uwu", "you're so strong for keeping on going" because it's bullshit and if you actually believe that horseshit, then you're deluding yourself and/or you've never fucking been through this and have no idea what you're talking about. And I don't even want people who HAVE come out the other side of this going "I felt the same... etc etc" because great. I am actually genuinely happy that you found a way out. I love for you that this too really did pass, and all the other bullshit they say. Idk how in this venom filled rant to make it clear that the sentiment is genuine, but it is. But it does not change the fact that I don't want you dropping into my reblogs or replies or inbox or whatever because I KNOW that yours is the majority experience. Or at least it's the one they advertise. Majority is not all. I've spent my whole life going there's no way I could be part of the exception, that I could be the worst kind of special, because I don't matter, I'm not worth shit. Well I guess I believe I have some value because I am in the minority. I am the exception. I am the experience that they will never tell you about on the official websites, somewhere between life and death, and you have to track it down in random anecdotal Reddit threads because it's one of the few places on the internet that hasn't been sanitised beyond usefulness. But you already know all that internet bullshit and, for once in my fucking life, this is about me.

Oh Emily but you post about yourself all the time on Instagram! First of all: fuck off. You are smarter than to fail to recognise that anything anyone posts on IG is the most sanitised, best, most productive facsimile of themselves. That is not me. That is a character I play. I play her every fucking day because I don't want the pity, or the disgust, or the contempt, or the hatred that I know is inevitable if I were to put her away for even one moment. If I were to show this side of myself that I hide from everyone but I am locked inside my own head with day in day out.

And I'm also aware that, probably a few paragraphs back, you were thinking about how best to alert the authorities, friends who actually live in the same town as me. To which I say really? You're going to get me locked up in a useless psych ward and for what? I'm not a danger to myself. We've been through this I'm too pathetic. The worst that'll happen is I'll have a few more cuts on my thigh that will be healed by the time I go home, if you let me, not even scabs. That is all I am capable of "oh but Emily, what about your previous overdoses!?" What about them? Did any of them ANY OF THEM do a single long term thing to me? No, so sit down and shut up. Psych services are less than useless to me - all they serve to do is to remind me that I am a problem. That I am difficult. That I am a complex case. I fucking know. How DARE you assume that I am not fully aware of my reality. That I haven't been in this fucking swamp long enough to know what everyone's next move is, what they think about me, what they want for me. Misplaced hope. After a decade I have seen it all before. There is nothing you can throw at me that I cannot anticipate, that I haven't thought through on my own, that I haven't tried yet. If I told you that I hadn't tried something you suggest in the last five or so years, I was lying to make you feel better. Maybe I'll be proven wrong about this, I fucking hope so. I'm a scientist - we fucking love to be proven wrong (or at least those of us who aren't a particular flavour of arsehole do)

And I can feel myself calming down. So there's even less reason for anyone to act. Just let me lie in my bed and cry myself to sleep as usual without the cops or the paramedics or whoever the fuck busting down my door. I'm autistic. Do you know how much fucking extra stress with literally no positives that puts me under? If you actually care, if you actually want to help first, I'm sorry that I've tricked you (and yes, I'm fully aware that that is the bad thoughts talking. We've been through this: in this moment I don't care) then do something practical. Do my taxes, fill out forms for me, clean my flat, make me actually nutritious food and then force me not to snack because no matter what it is, I'll want to eat within an hour, take me to go exercise, respond to the 27 men in my socials inboxes at any one time, make my appointments, manage my money, secure specimens and collections visits and collaborators, manage the multiple emails I get a month asking for my advice or expertise or to communicate my science and everything else, explain to the people I love who I desperately desperately want to be happy and unbothered and flourishing, explain to them why I am a constant disappointment. I know those people are reading. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that you had to see the ugly creature behind the curtain. If this rant ends up as a copypasta, or in some video so be it, exploit my pain as you do dozens of others for your own gain, be that monetary, fame, or just sick satisfaction and delight. I want to actually post one of these rants. Know that I will not answer the door to the authorities and for once in my life I will not be the placid little lamb who follows their every order even though I am dying inside even more than I was. I will kick and scream and run and fight. If you bring that upon me, you will actively ruin my life, so have fun living with that for the rest of yours. I will have my visa taken away, I will be barred from working in any country other than my own, I will be forced back into the NHS system that I am actively working through the trauma of to this day. But if you've decided you're going to do that then there's nothing I can say that will change your mind because in this moment I am not human I don't have rights and I need to be detained for my own safety. So fuck it post tweet

[yanban-san]

"Honestly this idea probably deserves a drabble at some point- I am loving the idea of the servitor depot agents having panic attacks over Darling liking them a little too much-"

That would be fucking amazing! That poor agent. If reader is devious than they might've brought the agent to one of those restaurants that has low lighting and enclosed booths for privacy before springing the one night stand offer on them. Or even waited until the end of the night and ask the depot agent to walk them home and then spring on them there. I can see it now, the reader leaning on them with a giggle after making their offer, waiting for their answer. The poor agent has broken out into a cold sweat and is staring in fright at the wall behind the reader at the mass of white feathers writing and struggling to exit the wall, held back by a single black tentacle. The feeling on inpending doom if he doesn't start talking fast and find a way to redirect the reader. The agent is praying for someone, anyone to him! Then someone calls out a greeting to the reader, drawing her attention away from the agent. Elesa had coincidently stopped by the restaurant to share a meal with Skyla and had spotted the danger on her way back from the bathroom. Somehow they manage to redirect the reader into gushing about the twins and their work (Elesa and Skyla moved to their table) and the agent is near crying from happiness from being saved. They manage to get the reader on their way home safely, before turning to each other and exchanging numbers to bond later over the stress of having to deal with the twins. Elesa and the agent deserve to have a friend who understands what they're going through. I imagine it probably goes something like this.

✨️: Bestie, you would not beLIEVE the bullshit they just pulled.

🦇: 👀 What did they do now???

✨️: Do you remember the ice cream parlor up on the corner of Rhydon and Sticks?

🦇: Kind of???

🦇: Oh. Oh no.

✨️: I was walking home with y/n last night and she pointed it out and joked that the new Cherri Pistachio flavor was 'an insult to humanity and the whole place needed to be erased from existence for its sins'

🦇: Isn't that the only parlor in the city that carried you and y/n's favorite kind of ice cream???

✨️: YESSSSSSSSSS 😢😭😭😭

🦇: hopefully it doesn't take them a week to remember that fact like last time

(Sorry if the text exchange seems weird. I am not a good writer, what so ever. I did want to get my ideas off of my chest though, hopefully it got a laugh)

sahgahkag Don't worry Tiny I fuckin LOVE this it's hilarious (btw apologies for taking a good long while to answer this ^^”)

I imagine Elesa would have quite a shocked reaction once she learns that the Depot Workers themselves are magical servants made by the twins to be the ideal crew for managing a magical subway system- At first wary, but then realizes... the Depot Agents are strangely better at acting human than the twins are; probably due to the lack of overwhelming eldritch power and arcane knowledge they possess.

Anyway, on to the drabble- That actually ended up tying into what I’m doing with Recordatio and Communion(ication)

Also made reader a lil on the insecure side for this as well.

Tags: NSFW Mentions, Poly, Demon/Monster AU, AFAB reader

Under Cut for the NSFW-ness and the fact it is long

Word Ct: 3.5k

—— Darling shoots their shot with their coworker, Depot Agent Jackie- saying they've always thought them to be... rather handsome, pretty attractive; and uh, well, Agent Jackie has always seemed to be rather amiable to you, and if it’s not too much, would- Would he be interested at all in… coming back to your place for an evening together? To put it as delicately as you could.

And Agent Jackie immediately recognizes exactly what you’re implying. He’s- well, first of all, flattered- And how could he not be? You’re the chosen soulmate of his creators. He has you and your whims to thank for existing in the first place, technically- Although he doesn’t feel any sort of romantic affections for you at all. To him, if not for the fact that his masters- his Gods- adored you, obsessing over you with such intensity that they’d move the very divine spheres of creation to bring about their opportunity to meet you in this world- You would just be a regular human, no different than any of the thousands of passengers on the trains he helped to run day by day.

But now, you were asking him- to- come back- to your place? That implied you liked him.

That you liked him more than the Station Masters.

Oh Sinnoh Above.

And thus, secondly, Jackie felt pure, abject terror. He respected and revered his masters- But he knew just how utterly terrifying they really could be, especially to anyone or anything that dared to interfere with their plans; Their wrath brought down Gods- and countless hoards of their own kind. It could reduce Unova to ashes in mere seconds, if they were feeling merciful. What was he to them? Nothing but a useful puppet, he assumed- Something that assisted in their plans. They could- And would- discard of him at the drop of their hats if he became bothersome.

To say they adored you was putting it lightly; They were utterly obsessed with you. You were so innocently unaware of the power you wielded, having two Eldritch Demons for soulmates; And the danger you were in as a result, as well.

And now, you were also unaware of the danger you’d brought down on Jackie’s head, as well.

But no matter! He was an expert Depot Agent- A master in managing uncomfortable situations through hundreds of interactions with inappropriate, rude, aggressive passengers, fielding awkward inquiries from journalists and reporters who wouldn’t leave him and the other agents alone- A master at conversation, deflection, and diffusion.

Why could he not redirect your interest in him to his masters? They’d probably thank him too!

You fiddled with the straw of your drink- Some sort of margarita you’d ordered. Coconut. Lime. Freezing cold. With an extra shot of tequila. Not much a drinker, but trying to get a little tipsy to work up the courage to ask this of your coworker. You felt guilty yourself- You weren’t even asking this of Jackie because you liked him specifically, but because…

No. Admitting that to yourself was way too difficult.

You looked up at Jackie; A warm, almost mischievous smile across your face. He was certainly very handsome, you noted. His black hair was beautiful, and his side burns clung to his cheeks, curling and frizzy- amid the cute tousled locks on his head. You were honestly amazed at how pretty and handsome so many of your coworkers looked. It almost felt like it was a requirement to be unnaturally beautiful to be hired at Gear Station, you had kidded to yourself. Jackie was certainly no exception to the rule, and you did have to admit- He really was quite cute.

Especially with those sideburns- and when he frowned or smiled especially hard. And his silver eyes…

You couldn’t have the Subway Bosses, you knew. You were a simple Depot Agent, working for them. And even if Ingo or Emmet wanted to date someone working for them- Well, you’d seen your coworkers. Some of the women working at Gear Station made you turn your head more than once- And you were only slightly bitter over the idea- The twins would probably- No, they absolutely would- pick your coworkers over you ten out of ten times. You just couldn’t compete. And even if it wasn’t in comparison to your appearance, still no. The Subway Bosses were Legendary trainers. World-Renowned, in a way. Champions- League Champions, World Champions, Regional Champions- Sometimes came through Gear Station only to be absolutely humiliated in battle against the twins. It was bad enough facing off against one of them- But both? You’d seen them. Ruthless. They had a clean sweep of Champion Alder’s team, even- And of the entire Elite Four, without resting or healing up in between battles.They were both handsome to boot, smart, clever- funny, efficient, hardworking, beautiful…

There was no way they’d look at you. Ever. Sure, you’d been having so much good luck lately- Even landing your job at Gear Station was lucky, you knew. But to catch the eyes of one of the Subway Bosses? No. Not with all the luck in the world- It would take a divine miracle to make them even acknowledge you as anything other than one of their employees.

But still, those facts didn’t stop them from stealing your heart and making you quietly and desperately pine after the pair.

And then being around them was Hell. Every day it seemed to take more and more willpower not to just turn to one or the other or both of them and ask- no, beg them to consider taking you on a date, even if it cost you your dignity and/or your job. Ingo’s voice perpetually echoed in your ear. A low tenor- A sonorous murmur- Asking if you were alright… If there was anything he could get you- And how he was always happy to assist you. The words took on other meanings to you, and you’d forget whatever he’d been talking about- Oh to hear that pretty voice talking to you intimately- You’d have dropped to your knees in an instant if he’d even just whispered for you to do so. How you wanted to see his pretty face upturned to your own, leaning up to kiss you affectionately- He’d called you Dear- And your own name on his lips made your heart flutter madly.

You thought of the way Emmet liked to grab you. In the heat of the moment you always “forgot” to tell your boss that it made you uncomfortable; Unable to find a otherwise polite way of saying you were going to go change undergarments in a minute because you were a fucking mess between your legs. His hand on your shoulder was enough to make you feel flushed and hot, not to mention the absolutely adorably innocent way he’d ask several times if you were feeling okay. You knew you were a blushing mess, and every single time every thought in your head went away and got replaced by blank static while you muttered out that sure, you were fine-

It didn’t matter which one it was, both of them made you horribly aroused and wet just by being in their presence- And for some Sinnoh-damned reason, no matter what you did…

You couldn’t even masturbate about it either. Your favorite erotica just didn’t do it anymore- And your internet was so slow and horrible that you couldn’t get a single video to play either! Although, to be fair, it wasn’t like train conductor porn was a common tag to find on any XXX video site, or even… written erotica. The few times you had, the comments were full of rail maniacs pointing out inaccuracies and nothing else, and you’d been unable to focus on the actual porn.

Nothing worked.

And you were growing desperate.

You could not have the Subway Bosses. They were your bosses, first and foremost- And they were so far above you in every category, of course they’d never look at you as a potential love interest!

So what to do? You couldn’t satisfy yourself. And you couldn’t get to the source of your pain, either.

So you turned to the next best thing.

Looking for someone who… resembled them. Just for a fling, of course!

Not that you wanted to admit to Jackie that the whole reason you’d picked him was because he resembled the Subway Bosses. He had similar sideburn things. His eyes were a dusty silver-gray. His smile and frown could make him look like Ingo or Emmet- And he could do a mean impression of the twin’s demeanor. He was a similar height. Similar build.

He would do.

“So, uh- What do you say, Jackie?” You asked coyly. You smiled up at him, face tinged with blush. “It’s not, uh- I don’t want anything permanent, of course- It’d just be a night together, right?”

And Jackie blushed fiercely- His eyes wide, and he almost looked- frightened? No, definitely surprised, you decided. He smiled weakly, letting out a soft laugh.

“Oh dear…” He trailed off, coughing into his fist- His eyes were looking everywhere but your own. Oh no. Please don’t-, you thought-

“I’m- I’m quite flattered, I really am, Miss- But uh, I just couldn’t. I simple can’t. You’re a very attractive young woman, yes- But- I have a strict policy against dating anyone from work,” He added. “And uh, I don’t do… er, flings- Not that I have anything against those who do, or anything!”

Gods this was an awkward conversation- At least, Jackie thought, his masters weren’t here to-

Oh no.

While his eyes darted everywhere else but yours, he locked onto a pair of silver eyes- Glowing with malice.

Lord Kudari, who had turned around in his seat to glare at Jackie- And also you. His smile was clearly strained, and Jackie knew exactly what his master was thinking.

Go on, Little Agent. See what happens if you don’t somehow turn this around immediately.

Jackie’s expression fell, and all the color drained from his face as his adrenaline shot through the roof. He was sixty seconds from being killed- And his face fell even more when Lord Nobori ominously leaned over from his seat as well, looking even less amused than his brother.

“Please, Jackie-” You continued- Sinnoh above you sounded pathetic- “Are you sure you wouldn’t reconsider? You said it yourself- I’m attractive, aren’t I?”

“Y-Yes, of course Miss!” He added, beginning to panic. “But- Really, I don’t do one-offs, ever! Please- er, respect that.”

You sighed heavily, embarrassed. “All right, I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable- I shouldn’t have pressed you like that, Jackie.” You took another sip of the margarita. “Could you forget this conversation ever happened between us?”

“Of course, Miss! Water under the bridges, and all that.” He smiled brightly. “Though I have to ask- Why me? Especially- Well, you didn’t strike me as the type to like… flings, exactly.”

“I’m… Well, I’m not,” You admitted. “It’s just- Arceus above, I’ve been so frustrated lately. And- Well, you’re exactly my type! I’ve never done something like this before, and- Well, I would prefer a long-term relationship, but not right now.”

Jackie felt a new rush of fear- And felt something grip his leg tightly. “You- You think I’m your type, you say? And why don’t you want a relationship right now?”

You weren’t about to admit to Jackie that it was because you were desperately trying to get over your infatuation with the Station Masters- You absolutely couldn’t ask anyone out on an actual date with the way you were towards your bosses right now.

“Well- yes- You have a really cute face. And uh, I’m avoiding relationships right now for uh, personal reasons.”

“That’s uh, interesting- I thought- I would’ve thought the Station Masters would be more your type, haha!”

“Oh, those two? Psht, Not in a million years!” You kidded- They wouldn’t take you in a million years, of course- You would’ve taken them at the drop of a hat.

Unfortunately, that was not the way Jackie interpreted that line.

And not the way the two Station Masters who were listening in with rapt attention interpreted it either. Ingo’s claws scraped at the edge of the table they were sitting at- And Emmet snapped the metal fork he was holding, bending and twisting it- Not in a million years would you take them, you said? You preferred that little Depot Agent to them so much? How dare you. Jackie was panicking even worse now. How- What was he supposed to do now?

Well, at least he’d had a pretty good run at this whole “being alive” thing. He was certainly going to miss Gear Station. He silently prayed- Not exactly to Arceus, but to any God- Heck even his own masters- He didn’t want for this to happen either!

“Agent Jackie!” A familiar voice called out to him.

ELESA! Jackie waved her over enthusiastically. Maybe Arceus didn’t hate him as much as he’d thought! “Miss Elesa! Fancy seeing you here!” He shouted through gritted teeth. Elesa came over to say hi- And he turned to you to continue your conversation.

“I find that remark rather strange, though Miss- Why on Earth wouldn’t you want to date the Station Masters? They’re respectable and, well, a lot of the ladies tend to find them pretty attractive.”

Elesa, meanwhile, had alarm bells ringing in her head- She saw Emmet and Ingo seated at a table together- Staring over at your table like a flock of starving Wingulls over a beached Finneon. Emmet was twisting a metal fork in his hand like it was limp noodle of spaghetti, and the dark look on Ingo’s face was borderline murderous.

And now this. Your coworker was desperately trying to catch her up to speed on the most important bit of whatever trainwreck of a conversation you’d been having earlier-

“Whatcha talkin’ about?” Another cheery voice asked, popping up behind Elesa.

Skyla. A very good friend of Elesa’s. Evidently out for a girl’s night? Date? Who knew? Elesa did.

“Oh, uh- Skyla! These are two of my friends from Gear Station.” She introduced you to the Mistralton Gym Leader- And Jackie, as well.

“Pleasure to meet ya!” Skyla remarked, smiling brightly.

“But anyway, what was that about not liking the Station Masters? I thought you liked them!” Elesa remarked. Please be them misunderstanding whatever you, just said Please be them misunderstanding whatever you just said-

You were rather flustered- Why was Agent Jackie and now Gym Leader Elesa demanding to know your thoughts on your bosses with the Mistralton Gym Leader hovering over you-

“W-Well, it’s not like I don’t think they’re handsome- Or anything like that,” You added bashfully. You were certainly not going to be divulging the depth of your… desires for your bosses to your coworker and two famous Gym Leaders, one of whom you’d literally just met. “It’s just-”

“They are pretty handsome, aren’t they?!” Elesa agreed excitedly- And Skyla stared at her friend with an expression somewhere between horrified and utter confusion. Handsome? Those two creepy muppet men, with their bizarre frog mouths- who talked in sync, walked in sync, seemingly having appeared out of nowhere one day- looking like menacing, train-themed clowns? Handsome?!

“Yea.” You agreed, a slight blush settling on your face. Jackie interjected. “What was that you were about to say?” You looked up again. “O-Oh, it was just- Well, You know how they’re such good pokemon trainers, you know? They’re famous, they’re powerful trainers, hardworking, cool… I doubt either of them would- Er, I mean, I just couldn’t. They’re out of my league.”

Elesa was only mildly dumbstruck; Jackie, on the other hand, was utterly dumbfounded.

You couldn’t be that oblivious, could you?

Your attention was on Miss Elesa and Skyla- Jackie was desperately gesticulating to his two masters in the corner whose expressions had changed from what had looked like We-Are-Actively-Plotting-Your-Murder to what now looked something in between blushing from the compliments their beloved had given to them, and intense confusion- You didn’t like powerful, hardworking, handsome, cool guys…?

But that went against everything they’d learned about your preferences. And they knew now you at least admired them- So why did that make it not okay for you to ask them out??

They would have to ask Miss Elesa about this later, they decided- But before they could move again, Elesa had turned to them- Jackie distracting you- and motioned for them to leave, a strange, stressed out look on the model’s face.

The absolute audacity of this mere mortal, Emmet thought- He would leave when he wanted to- Ingo turned his attention to his brother. “I actually agree with Miss Elesa, brother.” He whispered. Emmet turned to face his twin. “But Darling-” “Miss Elesa has it… dealt with, I believe. Though we shall intervene if necessary.”

And they disappeared as quickly as they’d materialized.

---

Eventually you all said your farewells- Agent Jackie left, texting a quick and heartfelt

[THANK YOU T vT]

to Miss Elesa; And you went home, alone again for the evening.

Elesa smiled at the text as she finally sat down with Skyla, and then put away her XTransceiver.

“So, Skyla- Why’d you want to meet up so urgently?”

Skyla dryly smirked back at her old friend.

She knew Elesa quite well- The two were as close as sisters, in some respects. She held up a piece of paper. Small, square- and evidently with something on the other side.

“I had nooo idea you thought the Subway Bosses were attractive, Elesa.” Elesa looked confused; No, no she did not- Especially since she knew what they really were- “Oh, you’ve got it wrong! I’m trying to help my friend- confess to one of them, She’s awfully shy, isn’t she?” Skyla’s smile disappeared. She knew Elesa very well. The two were as close as sisters. In many ways. And she could tell when Elesa was hiding something. She slammed the square on the table.

And Elesa looked down, the color draining from her face. After all the stupidity she’d dealt with from the twins- No, no no- not again- A photo. Of a four-armed blur that resembled the Station Master Emmet- with strange lights and stranger shapes around him- “Something strange is happening at Gear Station,” Skyla repeated. Oh no. “Don’t let this photo get deleted, no matter what.”

Elesa felt a bead of sweat run down her face. Skyla leaned back, watching her friend closely. “Oh, that photo? It’s- I’d forgotten all about that! It was just a bad photoshop prank, Skyla- I’m- I’m sorry for making you worry, but that was nothing!” Skyla looked at Elesa, studying her face. Oh, Elesa. The two of them were as close as sisters. And Elesa knew- And Skyla knew- Skyla could tell when Elesa was lying. And Elesa knew- that Skyla knew.

That she was telling an incredibly dumb lie.

There really wasn’t an end to this nonsense, was there?

------

On a side note, of course Elesa makes friends with the Depot Agents! They’re infinitely friendlier and far nicer than Ingo and Emmet are, and they’re like wizards- Warlocks? Clerics? Who get cool magical powers from their masters as well, and once they learn that Elesa knows the secrets of Gear Station are absolutely 100% showing off the cool magical powers they were given for the explicit purpose of keeping the Station safe and secure from any threats- After all, Miss Elesa is a regular ol’ human being and she’s suuuper cool!

And you think they’d erase the entire ice cream parlor??? The one that had YOUR favorite flavor of ice cream? No, of course not! However, you notice that awful weird flavor you hated is gone from the menu-

Yet you fail to notice that the person who made it in the first place seems to be... absent as well.

We’re gonna need some Depot Agents Gossip now... I love the ice cream parlor story asdjh

[tobiasdrake]

Back into the Underworld, the worst place on Mesa Island. Then we have unfinished business with the Demon King.

Hahaha, I know, right!? Prophet's poker face would be amazing if he didn't keep whispering to himself about his cards at a volume that can be heard from space.

Anyways, I should probably get out there. No more putting this off. As much as I desperately want to. You probably don't know this but I had a bad experience down there and....

...actually, you probably do. You're the one who sends Quarble to me every time, after all. We've been in this together from the start, in a way I never really understood before.

I'm sorry I got offended when you wanted to wear a cool hat too.

Anyway... I guess we should get to work. Partner.

So this is what the Underworld of 500 years ago looks like. Mostly the same.

I suppose that makes sense. This place seems the least likely to change out of anywhere. Oh, shit, and Burning Tirade is probably still around.

Huh. Well, that was relatively straightforward. Jump jump get stabbed Musical Note.

That kind of implies that this manifested essence of crystallized physics is the only thing holding back the Underworld from spreading across Mesa Island.

Are we sure it's okay for me to just. Like. Take it? I'm just saying, if the Underworld starts growing out of control, I'm giving all-a y'all an I Told You So.

You guys built a suspension bridge!? I was just expecting, like, a bunch of planks across rope.

This is incredible. Great work!

In any case, onward to the Forlorn Temple. This is, allegedly, where the Demon King lives. I imagine we won't be able to break the curse without--

FUCK YES ROCKET SILO WOOHOO

This is exactly the kind of funhouse shit I'd fill my evil palace with!

--jamming a kunai in the eyes of each of those four grotesque heads of his. Without a question, we're here to kill the fucker responsible for this cycle.

I have a good feeling about this. Demon King summoned Bugle Thyroid to keep an eye on me when it was my turn at bat. But after I killed him, he didn't come back for Soldier's turn. This implies that stabbing a fucker between his goddamn eyes does have a lasting impact on the cycles.

The way I see it, if we cut off the invasion's quadri-heads, it might not even matter anymore that we're trapped in a time loop.

Probably won't be that simple. Time bullshit never is. But there's no downside to decapitating a warmongering bastard so it's worth a go all the same.

...uh....

I think a king died here. Sucks to be him, I guess.

I am hyped and ready to go. Ready as I'll ever be, in fact.

I've always relied on your advice, Shopkeep. You got anything for me with this one?

Helpful. Thanks.

I suppose that makes sense. We all know what he is and it's not like anyone's ever beaten one of him before. So.

I guess we're going to wing it.

Is this all you do? Sit here and wait for the promised day when you get to go out and harass the last vestiges of civilization?

And I do mean harass. The cycle requires you to fail at exterminating us so we can grow a new society and spawn a new Messenger when you hit that one. We even prop it up in the same place every time so it's not like it's hard to find.

Is this all your immortal existence amounts to? Sit sit sit sit fireball sit sit sit sit sit? You look so bored. Do you not have card games or something you can play with your demon minions?

Seeing you here, I... almost feel bad for you. Please understand that I mean this in the meanest way possible - like, full-throated hate here - but you need to get a fucking life. Besides the four brambleboned dipshits that had their skulls hot-glued to a flesh horror, I mean.

Oh, yeah, no. He's not coming. You'd be surprised how easy it is to perforate someone's internal organs when they're eagerly throwing themselves on your sword.

I know you guys were, like, designated besties from the moment of your demonic rebirth in whatever fucked-up lab Aephorul used to transform you. But he's done. Wasted him like bread crust. You want to fight about it?

Buddy, I've got enough Time Shards to buy way more insolence than this. You want to start running a tab?

This can't be all you've got. The Dweller of Strife was the most powerful Dweller ever to exist. It took a legion of Solstice Warriors during the Eclipse to bring it down.

Did you chucklefucks actually make it weaker when you were bonded to it? This poor bloated mass of flesh is so pitiful now, it can't even do anything more than vomit fireballs and hope no one notices how pathetic it is.

I thought it was just Bowling Tapir having that problem. But no. This is a huge downgrade too. Everything Aephorul tries to improve gets fucked up beyond recognition.

It's a good thing you can fly away to safety whenever Messengers show up to the cyclical battle. Otherwise, we would have slaughtered you long ago.

Lining up the shot. I've got eyes on target and I'm coming in hot. Locking on and here... we... GOOOOOOO!

AAAAAAND Straight up the asshole! I can't believe this is all you've got. I spent my whole mission afraid of you.

It's done, Luana. This went in a completely different direction than I was anticipating. It's been a very weird day. But your unfinished business is complete; I have sodomized the Dweller of Strife.

I don't know if you'd be proud of me; You're kind of a shithead. But I'm proud of me. And that's what matter-- Wait, what's it doing? That doesn't look like dying in agony.

Oh cool, new form. Yeah, that looks way more Dweller of Strife-y than the previous. I think I killed the Acolytes so now it's free from their crippling handicap.

...wait. Shit. That's bad for me.

It looks angry. Hey, are you mad? You look mad.

OH FUCK LASERS

I THINK IT'S MAD

NO NO NO NO NO GO AWAY PLEASE I AM TRYING TO WET MYSELF AND RUN FROM YOU

I think it actually got angrier when I jumped on a rocket! Why!? WHY ARE YOU SO MAD ABOUT ROCKETS!? LUANA I THINK I MADE MISTAKE--

Oh, look. The ceiling. ...OH FUCK THE CEILING

ABORT ABORT ABORT ABORT ABORT ABORT ABORT Hi Strifey how was your day ABORT ABORT ABORT ABORT

Oh wow. So that's what the unyielding fury of eclipse magic burning like a thousand moons looks like. I've always wondered. No matter how many times you read about it, you're never prepared to see it in person.

Don't you agree, Strife?

Yeah, you agree. If I had to guess, I'd say your mistake was chasing me.

Guess this W belongs to you guys, Luana and Solen. But I'm proud to have done my part.

In the butt.

Look at it. Can't wait to show this to Shopkeeper. She's been watching me so she's probably already facepalming as we speak. This is a story I'm going to be weirding people out with at parties for the rest of my life.

Holy shit, are you the Fleshmancer? Wow. What a privilege to meet you! Is it true you once got your ass kicked by an irate cook wielding a frying pan?

In any case, I disagree. Gonna be pretty hard for you to keep burning down our village without your glorified matchbook here. Meanwhile, I've got all the time in the world.

See you around.

Assclown.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Hello again! I'm the pimple anon (which is a strange name! But hey, I've embraced my insecurities!)

And, right off the bat, wanna say that I think all the points you made are completely valid and I am thankful, that you took time out of your day to respond.

Now honestly, I didn't at all allude that the reason BTS might disband (if ever or if they did or had done) would be because of their interpersonal reasons of affection or romance or anything like that, implying some sort of a "love triangle", or weird "jealousy" or whatever between the members. If my writing gave off that vibe, that was completely unintentional.

And like I wrote I enjoy ALL the ships in BTS even the polyamorous ones LOL because they are all so much fun. But I'm pretty conscious that these imaginations don't bleed into the reality of things, because 1. I'm not privy to their personal life. 2. They share only what they want or are required to. 3. They are humans and not made-up characters in someone's fantasy. 4. Unless it directly is from them, almost everything is speculation.

With that being said, I have followed BTS from the very beginning to now and really looked at them through almost neutral lenses, in a way that my bias is all 7 of them. So really everything that I wrote, was just an observation and not really a "story" I weave to feed or soothe myself!!

And like you wrote Jimin is highly emotionally intelligent, and I, 100% believe that too. But watching BTS from the earlier days to recent times, there does seem to be something unfathomable between him and Yoongi. And I'm not saying it's romantic per se, because chances are most likely it's not, however even just looking at them interact on TV it's unmistakable. It's undoubtedly subdued to the extent, I see some "people" completely call BS on it because they just can't "see" it. I disagree though, and again this is not to ship Yoongi and Jimin, but from my point of view their interactions are always so subtly different from how they interact with the other members, it's very intriguing.

Jimin and Jungkook, on the other hand just seem to click. Like two pieces of a puzzle. And watching them throughout the years realize this themselves has been almost cathartic. It might be platonic too between them, but it seems to tither on the edge of romantic! And it's not subtle at all. Their interactions are loud, in our faces, for the world to see and try to recognize for what it is.

Ahh, forgive me, again, I've written an essay!! It's just that, none of Jimin's interactions with Namjoon, Seokjin, Taehyung, or Hoseok carries this sort of visible chemistry (for the lack of a better word) as he shares with Yoongi and Jungkook.

But to finish off, I do immensely enjoy differing points of view, except when it gets too territorial and overtly antagonistic, I run away in that case!! Thank you again for responding and sharing your point of view. Hope you have a lovely day :)

Omg, you're calling yourself pimple anon! That's funny. And cute. Embracing it is the best thing to do, way to go 💪

Thanks for coming back and adding to some of your initial thoughts. The thing is, I know you personally weren't implying anything about love triangles and disbandment reasons. It's just that I usually start from one topic or a smaller issue and then I make a general point from it and it may go into a slightly different direction. So it was not because I didn't understand you or anything, I just wanted to expand on a larger issue and a phenomenon partaining to shipping, that's all. And anon, when I said story, I didn't mean it in a bad way. I wasn't mocking or not taking you seriously. Agh, tone is hard to express in a written form. So sorry about that. If I would have thought you were writing some bullshit or anything, I wouldn't have offered that type of response. So, we're good here, I hope 😊

And about the specific topic, you used the perfect word in this ask and now I understand more what you were trying to say. Chemistry! Yep, that's it. And I totally agree with you. But my opinion also comes from a biased perspective because I do enjoy more watching Jimin and Yoongi and Jimin with JK. I've said this before, if shipping two people would be up to my choice, it would be JM and Yoongi. Because of that chemistry. Because there is the je ne sais quoi lingering all the time. I find that with JM and JK as well. I know others will disagree completely, which is why it will always be a matter of personal preference.

P.S. I don't mind long asks. I really don't. There's nothing to forgive. If you come back in my inbox for other occasions, you can sign yourself as pimple anon, I'll remember you 😄Have a lovely day as well!

[pesterloglog]

Jane Crocker, Dirk Strider

Meat, page 29

JANE: Oh my goodness.

JANE: It’s NOT problematic!

JANE: I have endured this argument for years, and I honestly cannot see a single thing about it that could be even thinly construed as problematic.

JANE: Furthermore, despite the fact that I emphatically do not find it to be problematic, I have in the past politely refrained from indulging in the profane pleasures of the Trickster Lollipop out of respect for those who do find offense with it.

JANE: However, citizens of the Human Kingdom delight in my Tricksy antics, and what kind of politician would I be if I were to deny my core voting demographic that sort of red meat?

JANE: Or... candy, I suppose.

JANE: To imply that I am superciliously and recklessly stoking potentially dangerous cultural fires is honestly an insult.

JANE: I am guilty of only one crime: energizing my base!

JANE: Wait, who am I talking to?

JANE: Yes?

DIRK: Yo, don’t spend too much time in Trickster Mode.

JANE: Is that all you have to say?

DIRK: In general? Not by a long shot.

DIRK: But pertaining to this specific issue, yeah, because you should know better.

DIRK: At this rate you’re going you’ll burn yourself out before we even go to the ballots.

DIRK: Can you just trust me on this, for once? I’m a bit too preoccupied at this exact moment to turn my chair backwards and rap at you about the dangers of dope.

JANE: I know what I’m doing, Dirk.

JANE: Do I need to remind you that all of this was initially my idea?

DIRK: In that case, how about we tap into some of that outrageous political acumen of yours, dial back on the manic pixie dream candidate bullshit, and focus a little more on substantive policy speeches.

JANE: Oh come on, Dirk. Both you and I know that isn’t how politics works.

DIRK: Yeah, you’re right. I can’t believe I actually said that with a straight face.

JANE: You say everything with a straight face.

DIRK: Another fair point.

DIRK: See, Jane? This is why you’re going to clean his fucking clock in the debates.

DIRK: All I’m saying is, there are better ways to go about unscrupulously manipulating the electorate than burning through your entire lifetime’s supply of dopamine.

JANE: Like, perhaps, gaining the ever-vaunted endorsement of one Jake English?

DIRK: Exactly.

JANE: You know, the last time we spoke about this issue I could have sworn you asked me to let you handle Jake.

DIRK: Hmm.

DIRK: I guess I did say that.

JANE: ...

JANE: Dirk, are you doing quite okay?

JANE: It’s very unlike you to forget details like that.

DIRK: I’m fine, Jane.

DIRK: Oh, fuck off. I’m nothing like that guy.

JANE: Huh?

JANE: What guy?

DIRK: Uh.

DIRK: Forget it. I was talking to someone else.

JANE: Who?

JANE: Is someone else there with you?

DIRK: I... no. It’s nobody. Let’s just drop it, ok?

DIRK: (Christ.)

DIRK: So, on the Jake issue,

DIRK: Unfortunately, my influence is a little...

DIRK: “Limited” at the moment.

JANE: What does that mean?

DIRK: A whole lot of bullshit that I don’t have the time or patience to explain right now.

DIRK: All you need to know is that I’m working on a solution. To both my problem and yours.

DIRK: Until then, you should figure out how to get Jake to, at the very least, avoid taking a side.

JANE: Actually, I have been thinking...

JANE: Perhaps this attempt to get Jake on our side is the wrong angle from which to approach this vexing problem.

JANE: Wouldn’t it be much easier to discredit or blackmail him?

JANE: He is much beloved in the Troll Kingdom for his carefully cultivated posterior, true.

JANE: But we both know that his bottom is not the only intimate attribute for which he is famed amongst Trollish citizens.

JANE: It would take almost nothing to expose his many dalliances through the human media.

DIRK: Hoo boy.

JANE: I know! Not to be judgmental, but his zipper is as loose as his pants are tight.

DIRK: That’s not what I meant by hoo boy.

JANE: You don’t think it would work?

DIRK: Oh, it could work.

DIRK: A certain illusion of boyish innocence is an important part of his brand.

DIRK: You contrast that innocence with the gyrating of his sinewy thighs, beaming raw, sweaty sexuality right into the camera on live TV five nights a week...

DIRK: That’s what makes Jake English work as a marketable commodity. The tension between the two, the inherent friction there.

DIRK: He’s gotta look coy as all get-out. Like he has no idea how sexy he is. Like if you actually got him into bed, he’d completely disintegrate into a blushing mess of hesitation and sexless uncertainty.

JANE: Wow.

JANE: I’ve never heard anything more preposterous in my life.

DIRK: Yeah. Well, his fans get off on it.

JANE: So what’s the problem?

DIRK: The part of your plan that involves exposing his promiscuity with trolls in order to hurt his chances with the human vote.

DIRK: And thereby framing interspecies sex as an inherently scandalous thing.

DIRK: I dunno, Jane. That sounds pretty fucking xenophobic.

JANE: Auuugh!

JANE: Not again!

JANE: What ISN’T xenophobic?

DIRK: Well, for one thing, what you just said there?

DIRK: Probably also xenophobic.

JANE: WHAT?

DIRK: Sorry, that’s just how it is.

DIRK: You either gotta roll with the woke shit, or decide to commit laborious, symbolic, melodramatic suicide in the process of utterly giving up.

JANE: ??????????

DIRK: Yes.

DIRK: It is confusing.

DIRK: But that’s why you’re lucky to have me as your top advisor and strategist.

JANE: Sigh.

JANE: Dirk... do you want me to deal with Jake or not? You’ve offered nothing helpful yet, but you’ve shot down all my ideas.

DIRK: That’s because lately, all your ideas have been fucking terrible, Jane.

DIRK: Seriously. You’ve got to quit the tricksterpop. It’s rotting your brain.

JANE: Then what do you want me to DO?

DIRK: Play defense for a while. Like I said, I’ve got some cakes in the oven so to speak.

DIRK: But we can’t set them on the cooling plate just yet, so go make some fondant in the meantime.

DIRK: Your ass is mine, Jake English.

DIRK: I fucking said, your ass is mine, Jake English.

[ghoullguy]

(ED) so i was reading this one yoi fanfic and i have some complaints bc im a bitch like that

so in this fanfic, which im not gonna name bc god forbid the author sees this and shit starts, yuuri quit skating bc of an ed

now, i have an ed. ive had several actually, since i was 11. first it was bed, which led to ana, which i'd gone into recovery for by 16, after losing a shit ton of weight and muscle, which as a figure skater, affected my skating. i relied on muscle to power me through jumps, and once i lost all the weight and my muscle, it made it difficult for me. so, i recovered. then, at 17, i injured my hip and couldnt skate for a while. this completely ruined me. i was convinced that because i had to take off time to heal, i could never compete again. i was too old, and eventually, too fat to ever be anything in the skating world. i relapsed, and the past year and a half has been a constant cycle of starving, then binging and purging. eventually, it became full on bulimia. i had a month or so back in december where i ate normally and felt normally about it, but then it came back, starving instead of purging this time. needless to say, i am experienced with eating disorders and recovery from them.

this fanfiction portrays ana as a fear of food. that is absolute bullshit. talk to any anorexic, and you'll see that people w eds fucking LOVE food. its what drives us, its all we think about. its not the food itself we're "scared" of, its the weight and what that implies about us. for me, having done ballet and skating for my entire childhood, i felt pressure to be thin so i could deserve to be a skater and a danseur. if i wasnt thin, i felt like someone pretending to be those things. that, and i have to push myself to exhaustion to feel like i deserve to eat. it is NOT a fear of food. repeatedly throughout this fic, yuuri is shown being legitimately afraid of food, even crying while eating. that is the most cliche, unrealistic portrayal of eds, and it makes the fic much worse bc of it. its a little infuriating actually, bc it shows that whoever wrote this doesnt understand the experience of actual anorexics. and before you shit talk me, saying everyone has different experiences, i have several friends, both irl and online, who also have eds. none of us have ever acted like that. ever. go on any ed forum, and no one will say thats what having ana is like. its the way the media portrays eds, not the actual reality of having an ed.

then comes the recovery arc, though arc is a kind word for it. basically, phichit and yuuri have a talk, he eats three meals that same day, and the only struggles hes shown having is gaining three pounds. now, when you have an ed, three pounds feels like thirty. i can understand that part. however, yuuri just decides to recover, and never goes back on that decision, never is shown having anxiety abt recovering. he just... starts eating. that is absolutely NOT how recovery is. then, in a later scene, he and viktor are abt to have sex. despite his prior insecurity about gaining three lbs, he shows no hesitation in showing his body to viktor. then, the morning after, he (unprompted) starts talking abt wanting pancakes. do i even have to say that this is unrealistic??? does this author not realize that the first person someone w an ed worries abt after gaining weight is their partner??? especially asking for and talking abt such calorie dense food, anyone w an ed would be worried that their partner would see them as fat, or worse, assume they were faking their ed. so yuuri, who just entered recovery, just being fine w viktor seeing him with new weight, fine w him seeing him eat food that makes you fat is just so so so wrong. it feels like this author watched to the bone once and decided they knew everything abt eds.

so, in conclusion, if ur going to write a fic w eds as a prominent plot point/character feature, make it realistic. or, better yet, DONT FUCKING DO IT IF YOU DONT HAVE AN ED. DONT WRITE ABT AN ED YOU DONT HAVE. bc u will never understand the experience of living with it and through it. if you want to read my own fanfiction abt eds, my ao3 is linked in my bio and the work is for bungou stray dogs, its called None of Your Concern.

last but not least, if u feel the need to argue w me or be mean, the block button is a couple of clicks away. if you dont use it, i will <3

[storiesforallfandoms]

safe space ~ corpse husband

word count: 1296

request?: yes!

“Ok I just had this random imagine idea for corspe husband pop into my head. Its kinda long but I think it would be cute. The reader gets panic/anxiety attacks too but the reader had never been able to calm down or have a safe space when they have them. One time they were on the verge of having one and corspe just held them and they calmed down and they were surprised. It happens like that a few times and the reader realizes he's their safe space. One time they were about to have one and corspe was in his room editing (not streaming or recording) and the reader goes to him and plops on his lap and he's confused and the reader mumbles something like safe space and he's just shocked and happy. Idk I think its cause I just had one that I thoguht of this. I know its long. I just want some long cute corspe fluff. 🖤”

description: in which she finds out that her safe space is in his arms

pairing: corpse x female!reader

warnings: swearing, anxiety attacks

masterlist

The first time we realized that Corpse was my safe space was during an Among Us stream. I was in Corpse’s room playing so that we didn’t accidentally cheat off of one another. The round had ended with me throwing and voting for Leslie instead of Felix, causing the imposters to win, which resulted in everyone immediately yelling when they could all unmute their mics again.

I knew they weren’t actually mad, but I felt myself becoming overwhelmed with all the yelling. My breathing was becoming quicker and more shallow, and everything I could possibly say caught in my throat. Tears were forming in my eyes and my hands were shaking so bad I could barley even try to type anything in the chat. No one noticed my silence over all the shouting, except for Corpse, who knew me all too well.

The door to his YouTube room opened and the next thing I knew, his arms were around me, holding me tightly.

“They’re not actually mad,” he whispered, soothingly, in my ear. “It’s okay baby, you’re okay.”

Although it was still a long process of coming down from my attack, I felt myself relax in his arms quicker than I normally did. I cuddled my head into his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat until I felt myself feeling better. Corpse ended his stream and both of us left the game to spend the rest of the night just cuddling in bed together.

After that, Corpse became my safe place. Whenever he was around for an anxiety attack, he’d take me in his arms and would hold me as long as I needed him to. When he was busy, I’d put on one of his hoodies that smelled like him, which did the trick well enough but not as much as actually feeling his arms around me.

One day, I was hunched over my laptop, trying to make sense of the assignment I had been given for one of my classes. The wording of the assignment made absolutely no sense, and what was expected was extremely confusing. I didn’t know anyone in my class well enough to reach out and ask for help, so I felt stuck. And, of course, the stupid thing was due in a week’s time and I didn’t even know where to start for it.

My mind began to fill with anxious thoughts. I was convinced that this one assignment was going to lead to my ultimate failure of the entire class, and I was sure that that’s what I deserved.

You should’ve started earlier, a voice in my mind was saying. If you fail you deserve it. You have no one to blame but yourself, you lazy piece of shit.

Corpse was in his YouTube room, luckily just editing a video and not actually recording or streaming. As I felt my anxiety attack coming on, I debated on walking in without warning. I needed him more than anything right now, but I didn’t want to interrupt him when he was technically working. However, my vision was already becoming blurred from a combination of tears and how bad I was shaking, so I knew this would be a bad one that I couldn’t ride out on my own.

Corpse looked up at me as I walked into the room without knocking. He looked confused, but pushed his chair out anyways to give me room to curl up on his lap.

“What are you doing?” he asked, a mixture of confused and amused.

“Safe space,” I mumbled against his chest. My shaking was already becoming less intense.

He kissed the top of my head and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly to him. We sat like that for some time. I listened to Corpse’s steady heartbeat, a soothing sound that could’ve lulled me to sleep if I wasn’t still coming down from my near attack.

After a while, I felt Corpse move his chair back to his desk. He leaned forward ever so slightly as to not disrupt me on his lap and continued to edit his video. I watched as he did so, giggling at the parts that made me laugh, which was approval enough for Corpse to keep them in the video.

We were sat like that for nearly an hour. I had long calmed down, but I was so comfortable in Corpse’s arms that I didn’t want to move. When he finished editing, I turned to face him, straddling his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Are you okay?” he asked, resting his hands on my hips.

“I am now,” I confirmed. “I’m sorry for bothering you while you were editing.”

“You don’t have to apologize, baby. You have nothing to apologize for. You know you can always come to me when you need me.”

I ran my hands through his hair and gave him a light kiss on the nose, causing him to chuckle.

“You’re too good to me,” I said, my voice low in a whisper.

“Saying I’m too good to you implies that you don’t deserve someone who is going to be there for you at all times,” he said. “Which you do. You deserve that and so much more.”

“You’re gonna make me cry!” I said, blinking away the tears of happiness that were forming in my eyes. “Stop being so cute!”

“I can’t, it’s a disease. I can’t get rid of it.”

I giggled and kissed him again.

“Want to talk about what had you so worked up?” he asked.

I sighed and leaned back more to look at him. “It’s that stupid assignment for my class. I’ve left it for too long and now it’s due next week and I have no idea what to do for it. I’m afraid I’m gonna fail, the assignment and the class...and I feel like I deserve to fail for leaving it so late.”

“A week is plenty of time to work on it once you have it figured out,” Corpse said. “Can you email your professor to get it explained?”

“I can try, but she’s awful for responding. Last time I emailed her she didn’t respond until the day it was due, and by then I had already bullshit my way through the assignment and submitted it. I don’t even know I can do that for this one.”

“It’s worth a try. You can email her, then I’ll see if there’s any way I can help you figure it out while you wait. I warn you though, I am not the brightest person out there.”

“Well that’s a lie. You’re much smarter than I am.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. That’s the simp in you clouding your judgement of me.”

I chuckled at this as Corpse pulled me to him to kiss my neck. I let out a squeal as he rose from his chair, my legs still wrapped around his waist and his arms still holding me tightly.

He carried me back to his room and basically threw me down on his bed. He took my school stuff off the bed and proceeded to flop down on top of me, effectively pinned me down to the bed.

“Get up! I gotta email my prof!” I laughed, trying - and failing - to push him off of me.

“You can email later. I want to cuddle.”

I playfully rolled my eyes, but in truth I was grateful for this moment. No stress, no anxiety, just the love of my life in my arms and his head on my chest. I played with his curly brown hair as he ran his fingers gently over my sides.

This was my safe space, my happy place. And I truly couldn’t ask for a better one.

[babesonly]

fic recs 2.0!

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

Canonverse

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

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

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

"Guess not,” he looks at his shoes.

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

on vessels by flightsofangels (1.9k)

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

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

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

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

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

Stay by aeli_kindara (2.5k)

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

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

walking on a string by swordfishtrombones (2.7k)

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

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

the flesh of the mighty by Mudprophet (2.7k)

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

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

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

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

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

JACK VOICE HEY COCKSUCKERS. 

hummed low by microcomets (3.3k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some Boys are Sleeping Alone by prosopopeya (4.2k)

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

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

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

ConsumehimNatural (copyright marcusantonius) the Series!

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

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

the reach of human sense by perilously (4.5k)

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

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

And it used to belong to someone else.

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

Down in the River by Ias (4.7k)

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

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

Creature of Habit by trinityofone (5.1k)

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

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

sink by crackers4jenn (5.4k)

"Where to?" A 9.06 coda.

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

Sensational by castiowl (6.1k)

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

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

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

Something to Protect by Sass_Master (6.2k)

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

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

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

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers (7k)

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

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

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

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

The wilderness. by orange_crushed (8k)

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

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

till the juice runs by deathbanjo (8.4k)

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

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

First Date by aeli_kindara (8.9k)

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

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

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

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

Entertaining Strangers by cadignan (9k)

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

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

the shape you take by noviembre (10k)

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

Sinnerman by a_good_soldier (10k)

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

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

you’re fooling yourself by cowboydeanwinchester (13k)

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

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

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

The Girlfriend Experience by rageprufrock (15k)

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

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

No Kingdom To Come by domesticadventures (16k)

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

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

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

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

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

Bodies by Speary (18k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you remember, Cas?”

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

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

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

More Than Ever by Sass_Master (20k)

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

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

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

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

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous (20k)

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

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

Dean was done with this shit.

***

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

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

I Shall Not Want by domesticadventures (20k)

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

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

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

To Boldly Go by 8daysuntiltheapocalypseiguess (24k)

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

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

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

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo (30k)

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

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

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord (42k)

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

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

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

Teaching Poetry to Fish by aeli_kindara (52k)

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

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

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

Emergence by ellispark (58k)

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

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

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

a turn of the earth by microcomets (95k)

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

Frigging fantastic.

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

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

Crossing Lines by sometimeswelose (122k)

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

Or

An ethics lesson from Hell

Or

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

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

Plot Holes by saltyfeathers (160k)

Of course it wasn’t over after the apocalypse.

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

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

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

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

Casefic/Roadtrip Fic

Deprived Of Every Planet by KelpietheThundergod (9k)

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

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

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

Castiel stills.

“Dean?”

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

before and after breakfast by spocklee (10k)

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

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

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

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

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

thunder road by dothraki_shieldmaiden (20k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

best friends without benefits by lizbobjones (20k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bumper Cars by mansikka (111k)

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

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

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

Finale Fix-its/Finale Denial

Sorry Jimmy by K_K_TiBal (2.1k)

Based on the tumblr textpost:

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it, Cas?”

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes Dean catches Cas staring at the sky.

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

Eventually Dean starts to recognize the pattern.

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

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

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

Bring Home by cenotaphy (3.8k)

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

Dean will tell him—

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

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

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

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

Truth is nobody knows what to make of Dean.

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

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun (5.8k)

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

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

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

Speak Silence No More by rea_sunshine (8.1k)

When Dean imagined this moment, it went like this:

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

The reality of the moment is this:

It’s fucking cold.

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

my heart is a compass by lagaudiere (10k)

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

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

--

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

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

killing time by orestespdf (11k)

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

(A character study of Castiel.)

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

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

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

--

aka, twelve times dean and cas kiss.

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

for which no words exist by MediaWhore (14k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

Command Me To Be Well by prospopeya (28k)

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

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

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

"Hello, Dean."

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

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

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

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

ascend by quiettewandering (53k)

Something in the world is wrong.

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

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

Or can it?

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

"What?" Dean grits out.

"I love you, too."

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

Endverse

final fantasy. by orange_crushed (1.9k)

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

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

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

The Last Song by Moorishflower (3.5k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Non Supernatural AUS

Long-Term Relationship by bendingsignpost (2.7k)

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

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

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

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

One White Lie by komodobits (11k)

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

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

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

separate ways and sleeping dogs by sobsicles (53k)

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

~~~

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

God, he's so fucking stupid.

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

"Three years ago," Cas prompts.

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

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

Everyone’s a Critic by Englandwouldfall (109k)

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

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

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

Non Destiel Centric

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fractured Link by Trell (orphan_account) (5.5k)

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

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