amiaemilio3p99

[pagesofivy]

Ball of Memories

Prompt: Commission by @theweepingvulcan91 for Kirk x Vulcan!Reader (Spock’s Sister)

Jim is very tactile, especially knowing how much it means for a Vulcan partner, maybe some way there’d be a kiss to the ear to get the reader to blush, in a formal setting being very subtly inappropriate with their partner

Warnings: FLUFF!! Also, this is a Star Trek fic, so if ST isn’t your bag of chips, hop off the train.

Beta: @sheinthatfandom

Word Count: 1927

Tagging: @meganwinchester1999 @calmjoon @winchester-with-wings @mrswhozeewhatsis @myfand0msandm0re @feelmyroarrrr @quilliamfears @danijimenezv @mogaruke @aikibriarrose @sea040561 @becs-bunker  @letsdisneythings @gone-to-fight-the-fairies @autoblocked @ashengem @mysticalhood-main @haven-in-writing @emoryhemsworth @sassy-losechester

 Find it on AO3 here

As you get ready for your evening with Jim and the people of Starfleet, you look back on your relationship with the captain, a fond feeling settling over you as you remember how courting Jim Kirk took far more time than most would expect.

Upon your first meeting, you knew you desired him, and you thought he had felt something similar. However, as soon as your brother Spock stepped up to welcome you to the Enterprise, Jim had stepped back and become almost coldly professional, far more distant with you than with any other crew member on the ship.

Though you knew immediately what you felt for him, Jim was hesitant to admit or try anything. Your human emotions stung- at first, you thought he was outright rejecting you and didn’t want you, something you had never dealt with. Despite being half-human, you had still been desirable to many of the Vulcans on your home planet, and many had tried to connect with you on multiple levels. Determined not to let Jim’s dismissal of you ruin your much-anticipated time on the Enterprise, you did your best to shut off any feelings except respect for the captain, and went about your duties, ignoring how your heart quickened around him. After accepting that your feelings were not reciprocated, you took a different route and pushed to be friends, wanting a similar connection that he shared with your brother, wanting anything more than the coldness he regarded you with at that moment.

Slowly, after much pushing and coaxing, Jim warmed up to you considerably, though there was still a sense of him holding something back. You refused to let that discourage you from your friendship with the captain though, content with the progress you had made. Friendship was the first step in a long road you hadn’t even thought of starting down.

~~~~

One shore-leave night, a few years after first deploying with the Enterprise, you put your responsibilities on hold for the next few days and allowed yourself to get a little too inebriated. Spock would have been ashamed, had he seen, but he wasn’t around, and you didn’t care. At least, not while this drunk.

You still had control over your body, able to walk in a… fairly straight line, and weren’t stumbling around, though your inhibitions were down and emotions running more freely than usual. You desperately began searching for your captain, your Jim, needing to see him, your pent-up feelings for him coming to the surface an an inescapable bubbling-over. You found him strolling along a path in a nearby garden, and you nearly swooned. He looked so perfect, hair highlighted by the moonlight, and you paused a moment to admire him, only to have your location revealed by a nasty stick that broke when you accidentally stepped on it.

Jim turned and spotted you, looking surprised only a moment before smiling hesitantly. “(Y/N), what brings you out here this late at night?” He asked, friendly. You had the sudden urge to run away, but you quelled it, instead taking a bold step towards him.

“Jim, I’ve come to tell you something, something important that you may already know, but it still needs said.” Your words were surprisingly clear and not slurred, and it emboldened you even more. Jim, for his part, looked concerned and even more guarded.

“What is it (Y/N)?” His words were slow, cautious, and damn him, his responsibility made him all the more attractive.

“Jim, I believe I am, as you humans say, in love. With you. I’ve been infatuated with you for quite some time, and I think over that time it grew into love. And it pains me occasionally that you only see me as a fellow crew-member. I do my best to ignore these emotions, to follow in Spock’s steps and repress the humanity inside me, but I am not as strong as my brother, nor do I wish to be. I like embracing the human part of me. I can accept tomorrow going back to friends, or even simply a captain and a member of his crew if that is what you deem appropriate, but tonight, I needed to admit to these feelings plaguing me.” With a definitive nod, you felt your body relax, your biggest secret finally revealed.

Looking at Jim, it was hard to read the emotions on his face. Really, it was hard to see any emotions on his face; he looked pretty much like a blank slate, which was rather frustrating. In the cool air, your buzz from the alcohol quickly started to fade, allowing embarrassment and shame to creep in. “Forgive me Jim, I overstepped my boundaries. I believe I will return to my quarters.” You started walking away, wanting nothing more than to escape, but Jim’s firm tone stops you:

“Stop (Y/N).” His voice was firm, an order, and while you wanted to just continue moving, disobey, you knew that facing him now would be less painful than facing him back on the ship. With a fortifying breath, you turn around, head held high, deciding to face the mess you’d created straight-on.

Jim sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, looking conflicted and sounding frustrated. “(Y/N) I… I appreciate you coming to me with your feelings. I feel for you something more than friendship or camaraderie, but… You’re Spock’s sister, I’m not sure… I’m not sure that’s a line I can cross. Your brother’s friendship is important to me, and I don’t want to upset him. As much as I care for you, I’m not comfortable moving forward without his permission…. As archaic as that sounds.” He cringed when he said the word “permission” and you understood a whole lot about your interactions with him from his confession.

You took a minute to process his words, then nodded resolutely. “Of course Jim, I understand. Thank you for letting me know that my feelings are at least partially reciprocated. If you feel comfortable broaching the subject with my brother, please do so, but do not feel obligated. We shall resume life as normal tomorrow.” Your words are a bit stiff, but the idea of getting your brother’s permission to pursue Jim is uncomfortable; you love Spock, but he doesn’t fully understand your desire for the type of connection that courting someone brings, and with Jim of all people - illogical, wild Jim - he wouldn’t be too happy about your choice of lover either. Kirk looked like he wanted to say more, but you bid him goodnight and walked back to the small apartment you’d been assigned for the leave.

~~~~

You shake yourself from your reverie and you’re back in your shared quarters, preparing for the gala. Jim’s somewhere else, probably dealing with a last-minute crisis, so you’re alone getting ready, which is something of a relief. The dress that hangs on the back of the closet door is daunting, beautiful in a way that you feel you don’t match. Jim bought you the dress though, because you’d fallen in love when trying it on, and he is not in the practice of denying you things you want, as much as he is able.

You shower and do your makeup, something simple that you learned from one of the crew members specifically for this event. Staring at the dress, you take a fortifying breath before deciding to brave putting it on. Just as when you first tried it on, it fits your body perfectly, and, taking in your appearance, you almost don’t recognize yourself- your ears are a reminder though, of who you are, where you come from, and your differences. Half-Vulcan, half-human, toeing the line.

Before your thoughts can go any further, there’s a knock at your door and once you give the all-clear, Jim pops his head in, letting out a low whistle of appreciation when he sees you in your full gala attire.

“Damn (Y/N), you’re more stunning in that than I remember. I might have to fight some men tonight,” Jim says, walking fully into the room, and it’s all you can do to keep a straight face.

“Jim, don’t you dare fight anyone, especially over me.” You scold, but Jim just smirks and winks before walking to the closet to get himself ready for the event.

“I make no promises my dear, but I’ll be on my best behavior. Your brother wouldn’t let me cause too much trouble anyway.” Jim’s teasing helps you relax a bit, and you admire him as he gets dressed in his suit, looking dapper as always. With him by your side, you just might be able to conquer the gala.

~~~~

This shore leave is less relaxation and more, as Jim calls it, schmoozing with the important people of Starfleet, trying to drum up funding for further exploratory efforts. It’s your first time in a long time being at a formalwear event, and you’re a bit self-conscious. You remind yourself not to tug at your dress or fiddle with your jewelry, because you refuse to seem unsure in front of others. After years of teasing for being half-human and half-Vulcan, you’ve learned a thing or two about interacting with people, and how they often sniff out weaknesses before trying to truly be friendly.  

Sitting at a table alongside Jim is the saving grace of the gala, where everyone seems to be uptight and overly-formal. It is uncomfortable how often you’re getting stared at, especially with Jim by your side, and you notice the whispers being exchanged. Jim must notice too, because  as a slow song comes on, and pairs rise from their chairs, converging on the dance floor in close couplings, Jim smiles and stands, then holds his hand out to you, an invitation to dance. When you accept and stand gracefully from your seat, he runs his thumb along your knuckles, a gentle caress that sends chills along your skin. Jim holds you at a respectable distance, not too far but also not inappropriately close, as you two sway together. It’s calming and comforting, being like this with Jim, when everything is usually chaotic.

Jim is basically cheek-to-cheek with you, just briefly, but it’s enough to heat up your entire body, out of both embarrassment and arousal, and you have to stifle a moan when he presses a soft kiss to your ear before he takes a step back, returning to that respectable distance you started at. He’s smirking, looking proud as he takes in your reaction, and he winks.

“Don’t worry darlin’, nobody saw, except maybe your brother. As much as he respects us being together, he’s worried I’m gonna do something to harm you.” Jim scoffs at the idea and you smile softly at him, reaching up and stroking his cheek.

“I’m his sister, and he and I have been through a lot, Jim. He loves you and knows you won’t cause me harm on purpose. He’s more worried I’ll cause trouble, or you’ll incite an incident.” Returning your hand to his arm, you give it a squeeze and wink back at him, teasing. 

“The only incidents I’ll incite, dear, are ones involving you and some private one-on-one time.” His comment can be easily construed as lewd, but you know better, know he simply means time together and away from the prying eyes of your brother and the rest of the fleet.

“One-on-one time seems to be exactly what the doctor ordered.” You tease back, and Jim lifts your hand to kiss the tips of your fingers.

[revwinchester]

Centerfold - Epilogue

Summary:  Dean stumbles across an interview and photoshoot starring his high school crush (and younger brother’s friend) Castiel.  He decides he’s going to stop at nothing to get back in touch with the boy with the blue eyes who used to sit in front of him in homeroom.

Genre: Mostly fluff with a touch of angst

Pairing: Destiel

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 2066

Series Warnings: AU - No Supernatural, Porn Star Cas, Mentions of Sex (but no depictions), Bastardization of SPN Lines, Scenes, and Episode Titles

A/N: This whole series came out of a prompt for @thinkwritexpress-official​‘s Back To School Challenge!  The fic is based on the J Gelis Band song “Centerfold” in which a man finds his high school crush on the pages of his favorite porn magazine.  This is it, friends, we’ve reached the end of this little ride.  I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!  And be aware, there’s a time jump here - you (probably) didn’t miss a chapter ;)

Find it on AO3

Centerfold Masterlist

Centerfold - Epilogue - 

The sights and sounds of Las Vegas were among Dean’s favorites.  He and Sam had been making yearly pilgrimages to Sin City since the winter after Sam’s 21st birthday but, lately, the trips had been more about business than pleasure.  Then again, business was pleasure when your partner was a porn star.

Dean was charming the pants off of anyone who was in the line for Castiel’s autograph, working the merchandise table and talking to the fans about the different items they could buy or sometimes just talking about Castiel’s work.  It had been an adjustment, at first, knowing that everyone Dean interacted with at a convention like this had seen his boyfriend naked and had watched him have sex with a bunch of other actors but once he had gotten over the initial shock of that, Dean found he enjoyed the events.  Specifically, he loved watching Castiel at these things.  

Cas, or really Jimmy, interacted with his fans with ease, snapping selfies and signing DVDs, posters, and the occasional dildo.  Most of the fans wanted to fawn over his work and some were brave enough to ask for a lewd pose in their photo.  A couple asked Cas about his partner.

Castiel had revealed in a recent interview that he had begun dating someone just after his spread in Hot Rod Hotties and that now, two and a half years into their relationship, things were rather serious between them.  Cas had said that they weren’t someone in the porn industry but, besides that, he hadn’t shared any more info about the mystery partner but, of course, fans were curious.  “What’s their name?” and “Do they watch your movies?” were the two most common questions, though Cas only ever answered the latter, and no one ever gave the attractive merch guy a second glance.  No one besides Cas, that is.  Whenever he had a spare moment, he’d catch Dean’s eye and send a smile his way.

The pair had discussed going public with their relationship but Cas had suggested waiting until he retired from being on screen.  Dean didn’t need that kind of attention, he had reasoned.  “After all,” Cas had joked, “there are a lot of weirdos out there and not all stalkers get their happy ending.”  After he had finished scowling and pouting at Cas, Dean had agreed to wait.  He was still able to attend most events with Cas, since he ran the sales portion of his boyfriend’s booth, and he had learned that it was fairly common for the talent to travel with the same entourage from one convention to the next rather than having to train new people in each city.

As the day wrapped up, Dean began to put away the unsold merchandise.  He was organizing a stack of photos when he felt familiar arms wrap around his waist and a warm chest press against his back.  

“Don’t drool on the goods,” Cas laughed, “I know that Jimmy guy is pretty hot but you can’t sell the pictures if you’ve slobbered all over them.”

Dean spun around and out of Castiel’s grasp.  “You gotta be careful, someone could see, Cas,” Dean chastised but Cas just smiled and winked at him before he picked up a handful of DVDs and packed them away.  They cleaned up the rest of the booth in companionable silence and then made their way back to the hotel room they were sharing.  

Dean stashed the box while Cas headed into the bathroom.  The AVN Awards were that night and he was nominated for Best Actor for his work as two characters in The Big Empty and for Male Performer of the Year.  He was predicted to with them both but, if everything went well, those two awards weren’t the only thing Cas would be celebrating.

Cas showered quickly, knowing that Dean would want to take one as well.  He got out of the stall and dried himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist and stepping back into the hotel room.  “The shower’s all yours,” he told Dean, who had situated himself on the bed and was flipping through the channels on the hotel’s tv.  Cas pulled his towel off and rummaged through his bag for a fresh pair of underwear.

“Nah, I’m good here,” Dean replied.  

Cas turned around and looked at Dean.  The man, who had clearly been staring at his ass, was not unapologetically raking his eyes over Castiel’s naked body.  Cas arched an eyebrow at him.  “Dean, go shower or you won’t have time.”

“I was enjoying the show,” Dean mumbled as Cas pulled his underwear up over his hips, covering his groin from his boyfriend’s view.  He rolled off of the bed and continued grumbling as he made his way into the bathroom, pulling the door shut and starting the water.

Cas finished getting dressed, putting on his favorite suit and shirt, opting for a blue tie that he knew brought out his eyes.  He finished tying the tie and tucked the little box he had been hiding all week into his jacket’s inner pocket just as the shower shut off.  Cas smiled at his reflection; he needed to look good tonight - at the very least, he’d likely be all over YouTube in a couple of hours.  

Dean came out of the bathroom surrounded by a puff of steam and crossed the room st stand behind Cas.  “You look gorgeous,” he assured the man who he had caught fidgeting with his tie, before pressing a kiss onto Castiel’s cheek and turning to his suitcase to find the beginnings of his outfit for the evening.  His towel was drooping and Dean let it fall, wiggling his ass when Cas let out a wolf whistle.

Once Dean was dressed, they made their way down to the awards ceremony.  They were brought to their seats by an usher but before they sat, Cas turned to Dean.  “Do you mind finding us some drinks?  I need to go and have a quick chat with my manager before the show.”

Dean smiled and winked before he headed back out of the theater and towards the open bar in the lobby.  

Cas watched him go before he tracked down someone who could get his message to the person running the camera crew during the show.  If he won both awards, he wanted the camera that would have been broadcasting his face onto the big screens in the room to stay put.  Once he was assured that the message would be relayed, Cas joined Dean back at their seats just as the lights dimmed for the show to begin.

Awards were given and speeches were made and, after about an hour, it was time for the first category in which Cas was nominated, Best Actor.

The awards weren’t being broadcasted on any television, but Cas knew that a couple of the major porn sites would be live streaming, so there were cameras in the room, one of which was pointed at him.  He smiled at the camera when the presenter said his name and then schooled his features into a gently anticipatory expression.  

“And the winner is…” The presenter opened the envelope.  “Jimmy Novak in The Big Empty!”

Cas stood, as did all of the people around him.  He hugged a few of them, giving Dean an extra little squeeze, and then made his way to the stage.  

“Thank you, thank you so much.  There are so many people to thank�� Thank you to the team behind The Big Empty, especially my costars and Director Dick, Thank you to my manager and to Dean.”  Cas paused for a second and winked.  It was the first time he had named Dean, though he didn’t pontificate on who Dean was.  “I’m so excited to win this award, especially because it’s always fun to go out with a bang - pun intended - and I,” Cas paused again, waiting for the little bit of laughter to die down, “and I am announcing my retirement tonight.  I’ve got one more shoot scheduled and then I’ll be transitioning into the next phase of my career.  Thank you all, for this award, and for making the last 20 or so years amazing.”

Cas retreated back stage as the next presenter came to the microphone.  He cut the interviews short with the promise to sit down for a longer interview after the show ended, wanting to get back to Dean.  The retirement announcement had been a surprise for his boyfriend and Cas didn’t want to leave him wondering for too long.  As soon as he could, Cas sat down beside Dean again.  “Hi,” Cas whispered, a small smile on his face.  “Surprise!”

Dean surreptitiously grabbed Castiel’s hand.  “You’re doing this because it’s what you want, right?” he asked quietly, looking at Cas.  “Not because you think it’s what I want?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas replied.  “While I won’t lie and tell you that you didn’t play a role in this decision, this is what I want.  I have a few ideas as to what might come next for me and we can talk about them soon.  The one thing I need to know now, though, is if you still want to be open about our relationship with the porn world now.  If I win the next one, can I thank my partner?”

Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand and brought it up to his lips.  “That would be perfect, Cas.”  

The pair settled back into the seats, Dean still holding his boyfriend’s hand as the awards progressed.  As the night went on, Dean noticed that Cas was starting to get more and more nervous.  It was odd.  This wasn’t the first time he had been up for awards and he had never gotten this riled up over it before.  Dean did what he could to calm Cas and quietly reassure him but by the time the presenter was announcing the nominees for Male Performer of the Year, Cas was practically buzzing with nervous excitement.  

“And the AVN for Male Performer of the Year goes to… Jimmy Novak!”

Cas rose from his seat again.  This time, he didn’t hug anyone before Dean.  He pulled his boyfriend in and held him tightly.  “I love you,” he whispered, kissing him before making his way to the stage.  

“Thank you, this is truly an honor.  I don’t know if it’s possible to top my last speech, but I’m certainly going to try,” Cas laughed.  He took a deep breath and centered himself, allowing himself to be Castiel for one of the first times ever in the presence of his colleagues.  “There are so many people to thank and I promise I’ll call you all tomorrow.  Right now, I want to use my time to say this: Dean, I love you.  The past two and a half years have been among the best in my life and I am so glad that your brother and I let the air out of my tire in an attempt to orchestrate our meeting and that you took me to dinner instead of to the police station… We always said that we would share our relationship with the porn world once I retired so I can’t think of a better time to do this.”  Cas reached into his jacket and pulled out the box he had hidden there.  “Dean, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

The crowd erupted into applause as Dean’s face was displayed on the large screens to the sides of the stage.  He looked shocked but then started laughing, one of his hands rubbing his eyes and then swiping down his face before he nodded and Cas saw, rather than heard, him say “Yes.”

Cas left the stage, adopting his Jimmy persona for the final time as he went to meet the media for the interviews he had promised them earlier.  He was just as eager to get back to Dean and to his seat this time but he knew that playing nice and answering their questions would be the quickest way to do that.  

Cas made it back to his seat just in time for the final award of the night but neither he nor Dean would be able to recall who had won that prize because as soon as he was seated, Dean pulled Cas in and kissed him soundly.

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Centerfold Tags: @shutupiminlooove

ALL THE TAGS! (forevers): @deathtonormalcy56 @supernaturalyobsessed @roxy-davenport @sumara62 @ginamsmith @gallifreyansass @samwinjarpad @hexparker @thinkwritexpress-official @atc74

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[thecuriouscrusader]

That Awkward Moment

Pairing: Castiel x Dean Winchester

Word Count: 752

Prompt: Doing Laundry

Tags: Pre-Slash, First Meeting, AU, Awkward Castiel, Embarrassing Idiots

Summary: Castiel and Dean meet while doing laundry and surprisingly they bond over each other’s weird choice of clothing.

A/N: Written for @thinkwritexpress-official​’s Back to School Challenge! If Cas had Misha’s fashion sense...idk. Not Beta’d!

Castiel was somewhat of a hermit. He was a writer who spent most of his days in his small apartment living off cups of tea and honey on toast. It was Friday night, though, and that meant it was laundry night. 

Castiel was sorting his colours from his whites when a man he had not seen before entered the room. He was very handsome, Castiel noticed, with light brown hair and a dusting of freckles across his complexion. He offered Castiel a lopsided smile that screamed mischief. Castiel was awestruck; his eyes simply widened with surprise and he felt heat begin to rise in his cheeks. 

"Hey, I'm Dean." 

"Hello, Dean" Castiel said with a slight bow. "I'm Castiel." 

"Nice to meet you, Cas." 

Dean walked by and Castiel saw something slide out of his laundry basket. He went to pick it up out of instinct and realised it was a pair of pink lacy underwear. 

"E-excuse me" Castiel stammered. Dean turned around. "You dropped this" he said as he held out the underwear; he was definitely blushing now. "Your girlfriends?" He asked before he could stop himself. 

"Not exactly" Dean confessed; he looked embarrassed himself. "More of a...guilty pleasure." 

Castiel was about to ask what that meant but when Dean squatted down to open one of the machines he saw the pink lace peeking over the waistband of his jeans. 

"That's nice" Castiel said. Dean looked up at him with a small frown. "I-I mean, um, this t-shirt is kind of my guilty pleasure" he said as he lifted his arms to reveal the two huge armpit holes. 

"Wow, you must be a big Duran Duran fan" Dean said, referring to the band logo on the t-shirt. 

"No, not really" Castiel confessed. "That's the odd thing. It's just comfortable. I usually dress like a slob." 

Dean laughed. "I can appreciate that. And I think you look cute." 

Castiel looked down at his tatty t-shirt, baggy jeans, and bright yellow flip-flops and wondered what on earth Dean was talking about. He knew his hair was stuck out at all angles too so he could not understand what the pristine looking Dean was seeing. 

"Thank you" Castiel murmured embarrassedly; he wanted to change the subject quickly. "I have lots of printed t-shirts like this" he said as he pulled a few out of his basket. "AC/DC, Marvin the Martian, Rainbow..."

"You sound like my kind of guy" Dean smiled. He started stuffing his own clothes into the machine. "As you can see, I like plaid. I just rock that sexy lumberjack vibe." 

"Really?" Castiel asked. 

"Nah, I just hate shopping" Dean confessed. "I just stick to what I know." 

He put so some powder in the machine and turned it on, but Castiel was not ready for him to leave. 

"Are you new to the building?" He asked.

"Yeah, I moved here a couple of weeks ago. I've sort of travelled all my life with my dad, but I just want to settle down for a while with a place of my own. How about you?" 

"I've lived here about three years" Castiel explained. "I grew up in a huge family so now I value my peace and quiet."

"What do you do for a living?" Dean asked. 

"I write." 

"Oh, awesome!" Dean said with genuine enthusiasm. "What kinda stuff?" 

"Mmm, usually short horror stories." 

"Dude, that's my favourite genre" Dean beamed. "Well, of books. Movies I like Westerns. Anyway, there are this one guy’s stories, Jimmy Novak-" 

Castiel's eyes widened. "That's me." 

"You're yanking my chain" Dean said.

"No, I use a pen-name" Castiel explained.  "Like I said, I enjoy my privacy. Not that I think many people read my stories."

"I do!" Dean eagerly exclaimed. "I love them. The one about the Leviathan...sorry, I don't mean to sound like some weird fanboy." 

"It's alright" Castiel said with a soft smile. "It's nice to know someone else likes them." 

"Well, whilst our stuff is in the laundry do you maybe wanna come up to my apartment and talk some more? I have beer and burgers." 

"You haven't been put off by my awkwardness?" Castiel asked with a little surprise. 

"Not all, I find it very endearing" Dean replied with the same lopsided mischievous smile as before. "Besides, I did just confess to wearing ladies underwear and you didn't freak out, so, I think on the awkwardness scale we're pretty even." 

Castiel laughed lightly. "Then yes, I would love to talk some more." 

[pagesofivy]

San Francisco Flowers

Prompt: Commission for @theweepingvulcan91 for Spock x human!reader

Maybe it’s the first time Spock is seeing the reader out of uniform in something nice and flowy, if that makes sense. Them being on shore leave and Spock shows the reader one of his favorite places in San Francisco or wherever they’re located

Warnings: None, just lotsa fluff. This is a Star Trek fic, so if that’s not your bag of chips, please ignore it.

Beta: @arrow-guy

Word Count: 1758

Tagging: @meganwinchester1999 @calmjoon @quilliamfears @winchester-with-wings @mrswhozeewhatsis @myfand0msandm0re @feelmyroarrrr @danijimenezv @mogaruke @aikibriarrose @sea040561 @becs-bunker @letsdisneythings @gone-to-fight-the-fairies @autoblocked @ashengem @mysticalhood-main @haven-in-writing @emoryhemsworth @sassy-losechester

Spock seems almost excited for the upcoming shore leave, which is concerning. Spock doesn’t usually show emotions, but he was practically vibrating in the month leading up to it. It’s so unlike him that you discretely try to check his vitals to be sure he’s not sick or poisoned or something. He notices your attempts of course, but only arches an eyebrow, too amused by your concern to be worried.

It’s the first real shore leave since you two started dating three years ago, and it’s on your mother’s home planet, Earth. You’ve never been there, having been born on a Starbase in the Alpha Quadrant, and you’re excited to visit the home of your heritage. Spock’s done a lot of research and has already picked out where he wants to show you, he just won’t tell you. Jim’s keeping the secret too - hell, the whole Enterprise is keeping the secret, giving each other knowing grins when you walk in the room. At one point a random yeoman you run into tells you how lucky you are and that you’ll love where Spock is taking you, before scurrying out of the room to attend to some errands Dr. McCoy has him running.

You try to reason with Spock, ask him where you’re going because you’re curious, even lying and saying you don’t like surprises (which he calls you out on), but he won’t budge. You try the logical route, stating you need to know where you’re visiting so you know what to pack, but he just gives a vague answer, saying “It’s going to be humid, and will likely rain a lot. I’ve been advised we wear sun protection, despite the precipitation. We can purchase anything you might end up missing.”

The day before you’re set to leave, you pack, throwing in as much varied clothing as you can. Nothing for cold weather, but pretty much everything else on the weather scale, you’re prepared for - though you’re definitely still paranoid you’re forgetting something. You push that worry down though, saying your goodbyes to those staying on the ship or going places you’re not. You’ve been able to cross some places off your possible destinations list, like Chicago, New York City, and New Orleans, but that still leaves a lot of places open, and you have no idea if he’s planning to go to the big city or a small, rural town, or even somewhere in between. There are Starfleet bases everywhere that might be your stop.

The morning of your departure, you make sure you have everything, checking to make sure Spock has his stuff as well, though it’s pretty unnecessary. Never once has Spock been unprepared, not counting the crazy shit Jim pulls. Jim’s special brand of chaos can’t be prepared for. You go about finalizing your away messages and protocols until it’s time to go, and then you’re off to the transporter room.

Placing your suitcase on one of the transporter platform circles, you step onto your own and catch Spock doing the same in your peripheral vision. You face him fully and wink, to which he responds with a smile and then nods at the person manning the controls. You watch as Spock de-materializes before your eyes, and with a glance at the chief, your particles are making their way down to Earth.

The first things you notice when you’re fully materialized are the palm trees. There are potted ones everywhere in the giant transporter room, and you can see more outside. You immediately put the pieces together and realize you’re somewhere in California. The person there to run the transporter greets you then gets back to work, pointing to where Spock is before ignoring you completely in favor of bringing more people down.

Walking up to Spock, you briefly touch his hand and he smiles a little. “Welcome to San Francisco, (Y/N).” There’s no grandeur to his statement, but you can still see the excitement simmering beneath the surface and it’s contagious because it’s San Francisco! It’s been on both of your lists to visit for as long as you can remember, and being here is a dream.

“Really, San Francisco? You managed to keep quiet about us going to San Francisco? I’m impressed, Spock.” You tease him as he herds you out the door, shuddering as the heat and humidity of the city hit you. “Oh gods, humid indeed. Let’s get to where we’re staying asap. I need time to adjust after the climate-controlled ship.” Spock smirks at your complaints and hands you your suitcase before grabbing his PADD and pressing a few buttons.

“We’ll be there momentarily,” Spock assures, and a few minutes later a hovercar shows up to take you to the hotel. The ride there is mostly quiet, you and Spock both distracted by the sights of the city. Once there, he checks in and you head up, ready to relax for the evening and prepare for the adventure ahead.

The hotel isn’t very fancy, and the room itself is pretty basic, but it has a gorgeous view, a comfortable bed, and air conditioning, all for which you’re grateful. The humidity outside stuck to your skin in the most uncomfortable way, and the cool air is a welcome relief.

Spock puts his things away in the drawers and you do the same, pulling your PADD from your suitcase and sitting on the bed to read once everything is organized. He settles in beside you and pulls up a map of San Francisco on his PADD.

“(Y/N), where do you want to visit while we’re here?” he asks, and you lean your head on his shoulder, looking at the map with him. You point out a few places and bring up a few of your own, and a schedule of sorts is set up for the week before falling asleep beside each other.

The week is full of sights, from Alcatraz to the Fisherman’s Wharf, Chinatown and more. It’s overwhelming in the best way, so many sights and so much history taken in at once. Spock wants to end the week with the Golden Gate Bridge, so that’s where you end up.

On the morning of your last day, you make sure to wear something Spock’s never seen you in- a flowy dress. After all the form-fitting uniforms of Starfleet, it’s a welcome break, and you love how the occasional breeze moves it around your body like it has a mind of its own.

You definitely notice Spock staring for long periods unabashedly, and it makes you feel more confident in your choice. You’re pretty much unable to stop smiling the whole day, and you hold your head high. While Spock never makes you feel unattractive, him finding it hard to look away is a big confidence boost.

Standing at the vista point of the Golden Gate Bridge, your breath is taken away as the sun slowly begins to set, washing the water with a warm glow.

“Spock, this is beautiful,” you murmur, pressing your hand to his. Spock picks your hand up and presses a kiss to it, ever aware of the importance of small human gestures like that, then tugs, pulling you away from the railing.

“I have somewhere else I desire to show you, (Y/N).”

He leads you down a path, through trees and bushes and flowers, until you come upon a greenhouse. He speaks briefly with someone out front, then you both walk in, immediately enveloped by the scent of hundreds of flowers. You pause for a moment and just breathe them all in, eyes closed, trying to name the scents, but it’s impossible; there are too many, and you’re not a great botanist.

You and Spock walk through the flowers, hand-in-hand, with him being ever patient as you stop to look at and smell nearly every flower you pass. Eventually, you come upon one of your favorites and you drop his hand, moving to immerse yourself in the flower as much as possible. They’re so rare to see outside of pictures on the Enterprise that you want to savor the moment.

When you feel you’ve ignored Spock too long, you turn to find him on one knee, small box in hand, and your heart practically stops.

“(Y/N), as you know, I tend to rely more on logic than emotion. But you make me want to use my emotions. Correction, you make my emotions surface, far easier than anyone or anything else. After these three years together, I believe we know each other well enough, and I know there are no other beings out there for me; hopefully, I am the only one for you. I chose to propose by these flowers,” he indicates the nearby petals, “because I know they are your favorite, and aesthetically pleasing, and I wanted you to have a beautiful memory of this moment. I would like… (Y/N) I would like to enter into koon-ut-so'lik with you. As the humans say, will you marry me?”

You’re speechless, tears in your eyes, and you kneel down in front of him, nodding the whole time like a madman. Somehow you manage to choke out a “yes!” and Spock grins like he’s won an incredible prize. He takes your hand and slides the ring on your finger carefully, pressing gentle kisses to each fingertip, then rests his forehead on yours, allowing you to see his thoughts through your bond.

He shows you the joy, happiness, and love he feels around you, all the illogical emotions that surface without his control. Memories of the two of you flash through his mind, the first time you meet, your first “date,” moving into shared quarters on the Enterprise, and so much more. You’re once again overwhelmed, tears openly streaming down your face, and show him the same thing: the security and adventures he gives you, the rightness of being by his side, and your take on all the memories he showed you, plus a few of your own, admiring him when he wasn’t looking.

After what seems like forever of sharing - though it could only have been minutes - you separate and stand, though Spock holds your hand and won’t let go. Your PADDs begin beeping shortly after, messages from Jim telling you it’s time to return to the ship, and with a sigh, you realize how late it’s gotten.

“Let’s go home then, Spock.” You murmur, and he kisses your forehead before nodding and leading you out of the greenhouse.

“Home it is, (Y/N).”

[pagesofivy]

Dropping In

AO3 link

Square filled: Dom Drop

Ship: Sam Winchester x reader; domme!reader, sub!Sam 

Rating: M-ish.   

Warnings: Emotional issues, domme!reader

Summary: As a professional dominatrix, Sam Winchester is your ideal client. One day you can’t hold up your act, and later, you both get a surprise that leaves you wondering: Can you two still make your relationship work?

Word count: 1369

Created for @spnkinkbingo​

Beta: @ladymidnightt​ and @kalesrebellion​ 

Emotions are turbulent, though you try to be numb, to put everything under a blanket so you can handle daily life. You’re not depressed, you just… have a lot of emotions with no real healthy outlet. That’s why you’d turned to BDSM and the femdomme life.

Being a dominant in a dynamic is a heady experience, and you get to feel truly in control of some part of your life. Bringing a stubborn man into submission is its own kind of high, although most of the time it seems like your uniform does most of the work for you. Who knew a black corset and a tight pencil skirt could do more work than a riding crop ever could! 

Sam Winchester, a surprise but repeat client, submits easily. Sometimes it feels like Sam needs to let go so much more than you need control, but that never stops the sessions, thankfully. Truth be told, Sam’s your favorite client.

He’s rarely afraid to try new things, has even indulged in some of your more dangerous curiosities - knifeplay, for example - but he knows his limits and yours and isn’t afraid to safeword. Sometimes he safewords before the session even starts, and instead of dominating Sam, you two talk like old friends. He’s still a bit cagey when it comes to his job, but you respect his privacy like he respects yours.

Today’s session with Sam wasn’t meant to be anything out of the ordinary, but something about the way he responds - his tone, his body language - has you safewording, gasping out “Leviathan” before sinking to your knees, trying to keep your panic attack at bay, dropping from your dom headspace faster than you’d experienced before. 

Sam wraps your robe round you then sits in front of you, his knees touching yours. “Tell me what to do (Y/N),” he whispers, and it’s all you can do to breathe out a reply:

“Care box, under the bed.” You point weakly, but you’re too out of it to do much more.

Sam’s in motion faster than you register, and he’s not gone from your side long, placing the open box in front of you. 

“I’m here for you (Y/N),” he murmured, “just tell me what I can do.” 

Part of you recognizes that Sam might also be dropping, and you’re still the caretaker here, but you push those thoughts aside, crawling into Sam’s lap, seeking comfort in the large man’s arms.

Sam holds you close and brings the care box to him, pulling out the bottle of Gatorade and the candy. “Need you to eat this stuff, please (Y/N).” Sam’s gentle coaxing brings you enough to your senses that you listen, drinking and eating, the sugar helping to ground you. “You’re doing so good (Y/N), I’m so proud of you.” Sam continues his soft words of comfort, guiding you out of your dom drop and providing you a safe space to come back to yourself. 

After you finish the Gatorade, you turn and give Sam a kiss on the cheek, feeling much steadier. “Thank you, Sam, for taking care of me. I’m sorry we had to cut the session short. How are you doing? I realize you might be experiencing some headspace drop too…” you trail off, looking uncertain, and Sam smiles softly.

“I’m okay (Y/N), helping you through it helped me through it. Don’t feel bad about the session, your health and safety are far more important than me getting my rocks off.” He’s so gentle with you that your heart aches. What you wouldn’t give to be treated like this all the time and have all your clients be like Sam.

“You’re so good to me, Sam. I wish all my clients were like you.” Talking about other clients isn’t something you do, ever, but your thoughts slip out before you can stop them. Sam only looks a little surprised, but also very bashful.

“I’m nothing special, (Y/N). I just treat ya like I was taught to treat someone precious to me. I… I wish, sometimes, I could persuade you to let me be your only client, but I know that’s not fair to ask… Just know it’s always a thought.”

You’re speechless, cycling between happiness and surprise and satisfaction. Sam watches you apprehensively, his guard halfway up, and you realize you haven’t responded in a timely manner.

“Oh Sam, having just you would be great, if…” You trail off, looking at your hands. How can you explain to Sam that it’s easier for you - and safer for everyone - for you to not have any true attachments?

Sam nods while you search for the words. “I know. There’s stuff on my side keeping me from asking you, and there’s stuff in your life too. Don’t feel bad, I just… I wanted you to know you’re appreciated and cared for, and for more than the services you provide.” Sam gives you a wry smile and you chuckle, nodding too. 

“I’m truly sorry Sam. If things were different… If our lives were different, maybe we’d end up together. But we shouldn’t focus on the ifs, just the nows.” 

Sam starts to reply but his phone goes off, startling you two. You crawl out of Sam’s lap and you both stand up, him answering his phone while you clean up, and you two get dressed. He’s talking in hushed tones, so you do your best to ignore him, checking your phone instead. More news articles about the dead cattle and people in nearby towns, the locations getting closer to yours. With a frown, you forward the links to your friend, a hunter of the supernatural who has been teaching you to hunt, with the caption “Now is it a case?” and as you wait for a response, you continue reading the articles, doing what research you can from your phone.

Sam saying “Goodbye, Dean,” at normal volume pulls your attention from your phone to him, and you smile knowingly. 

“Brother giving you trouble?”

“Yeah,” Sam chuckles, rolling his eyes, “he’s got a gig for us and needs my help prepping. I’m sorry I have to leave, but I’m really glad you’re feeling better (Y/N). I’ll try to set up another session before we leave town.” Sam kisses your forehead then stuffs payment in your fingers, hurrying out the door amidst your protests.

When the door clicks shut behind him, you plop on the bed and look at the bills, eyes growing wide as you count. He doubled your usual rate, even though you’d barely done anything! You shoot Sam a text, flustered, “You paid me too much, mister moose!” and when your phone buzzes again not even a minute after you set it down, you expect it to be Sam, but it’s your hunter friend Stacy instead. 

“Yup, it’s a case. I can’t help, on a different hunt, but I’ll get help sent your way. Be careful.”

You’re nervous about doing the case without her, but knowing help is coming, you feel a little relieved. “Send them to the bar so we can plan over food.” You reply, then pack up, knowing you need to get dressed for a hunt and get all your research together. The better prepared you are to brief your backup, the faster the hunt can be finished.

You walk into the bar and scout out a table, organizing your stuff then ordering a drink and food, settling in to wait. Keeping an eye on the door, you try to guess who your backup is, but everyone you think it is doesn’t even look your way. Eventually you give up and go over your research again, and you don’t look up until someone knocks on your table, pulling your attention to a tall, freckle-faced man with a cocky grin. “Are you (Y/N)? Garth said to tell you Stacy sent us.” Hearing Stacy’s name, it clicks, and you smirk at the man.

“So you’re the help?” You ask, one eyebrow raised. As a domme, you can handle cocky men, and you’re ready to sass the man in front of you until the last person you expect to see steps into your sight. 

“Sam Winchester?”

[pagesofivy]

Stolen Moments

Pairing: Claude von Riegan x reader|Byleth, gender neutral!reader

Summary:  You sneak away from the chaos of a celebration at Garreg Mach... Little do you realize, you're not the only one that likes to escape from those functions.

Notes: Yeah, I just did that. 351 words of Fire Emblem Three Houses fanfic, because I needed it. It feels good to finish a fanfic too, because I’ve been blocked. Looking forward to writing more FE3H fics in the future!! Let me know what you think and who you’d like to see featured next in the comments!

AO3 Link

Claude von Riegan, heir to the Leicester Alliance, is staring at you like you’re the only person in the world. Having his attention focused so intently on you is unnerving. 

You hadn’t expected anyone else to be hiding out from the celebrations, so when he’d appeared in the tower shortly after you’d settled in, everything felt electric and uncertain- was he going to turn you in for skipping out? It didn’t seem his style, but Claude was hard to read on a good day.

Thankfully, before you could dissolve into a panic, Claude broke the tension with his usual playfulness, treating you like a co-conspirator, and you relaxed. He’s royalty, to be respected, but when he acts like you’re equal, it’s hard to remember he’s more important than you in the long run. 

Now though, after you shared a few secrets - and a few drinks - with him, you have to force yourself to ignore the fluttering in your chest. Any feelings you’re having for Claude can’t- 

“Have I ever told you how beautiful your eyes are? The moonlight brings it out, but as stoic as your expressions can be, your eyes tell so much.” Claude’s compliment leaves you gaping, speechless. He thinks you have beautiful eyes? Before you can formulate a response, Claude chuckles, but it sounds sad. “I know that you tend to keep yourself separate from us, and I’m sorry if that was too forward of me. I just -” He drags his fingers through his hair, frustration showing through his normally cool facade. “I just wish I could convince you we’re not all bad, that some of us are worth the risk.” 

It’s hard to say what comes over you in that moment, but you reach out and grasp Claude’s hands, staring at him earnestly as you speak: “You are worth the risk, Claude. I’m glad you’re here with me, celebrating this holiday together instead of among the crowd.” Claude scrutinizes you for a moment before he smiles softly and pulls your hand to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.

“There’s no one I’d rather spend this holiday with.”

[pagesofivy]

The Downfall of Thought

Warnings: Angst, panic attacks, dark thoughts

Prompt: Fluffy supportive Loki. Body positive, mental health support

Commission by @redlipstickandplaid

Summary: You’re battling a silent battle with anxiety and depression, and finally hitting rock bottom is the wake-up call you need.

Beta: @winchester-with-wings

A/N: This one was something I felt I needed to tackle, and it just sort of grew around itself. It isn’t shameful to be hurting, and it isn’t shameful to ask for help. I’ve slowly learned that, still struggle with it, and feel like it’s an important lesson for many people.

W.C. 2461

Tags are at the bottom!

You stare down at your phone and chew your lip as you deliberate what you’re going to do about the text on the screen:

“Hey, are you coming out with us tonight?”

Your fingers mindlessly tap the edges of the screen, not actually typing your answer. Are you going? Can you handle going? Can you get away with not going? Do you have an excuse that’s believable? Maybe. Here goes nothing.

“Sorry, I can’t tonight, work has me swamped.”

It’s a lame excuse, but nobody ever questions it, you don’t use the work excuse often. A few “take care!” and “We miss you!” texts come through the group thread and you feel grateful they’re so understanding, but at the same time, there’s that whisper of doubt: They’re tired of you never being around. They see through your excuses and they’re going to stop asking you to hang out. And then you’ll lose them for good. And you know Loki will follow. And then work.

Work. Oh shit. Sure, you usually work from home, but you haven’t sat down and actually done work in quite a while now; you’re too far behind on your responsibilities. Pulling out your laptop from its bag, you open your email inbox and stare in blank panic at the increasingly threatening subject lines from your boss:

“New Assignment” “Progress Check” “Due ASAP” “Due TODAY” “PAST DUE” “Meeting Needed” “CALL ME”

You can’t catch your breath, feel simultaneously like the walls are falling in and like you’re drowning, flailing and getting nowhere, pushed further down by the weight of responsibility you can’t handle anymore, and the voice is back:

Lost your friends, lost your job, just wait until you lose Loki! It won’t be long until you’re alone and have to admit to your parents you fucked up your life and have to move in with them. What a failure, you really screwed up this time!

“Stop!” The word is shrieked out loud and then the world is quiet, the voice silent. You open the emails, scan them for important details and quell your panic, shutting it in an emotional box for later. You reply to the last email, give a long explanation that’s half a lie, and shut the computer, taking multiple deep breaths and trying to strengthen your mental walls to be able to handle the stress you’re drowning in. You grab your anxiety pills and take one, then open a notebook and start a to-do list, feeling like maybe this time you’ll get your shit together and be a successful adult. The list fills up the whole page, but it’s mostly baby steps or basics that need accomplished, things like “Do the dishes. Shower. Order dinner. Read the first chapter of the story (to be edited).”

You stare at the list, trying to decide what to do first and finally land on ordering pizza. It’s an easy task, considering the shop has an app, so the task is done in seconds, and you scratch it off with a sense of relief. Deciding you can tackle something a little more, you start the dishes, filling up the sink with water and soap and placing some plates and silverware in to soak, but then Loki comes in using the key you had given him, and everything is forgotten. “Loki!” You exclaim, drying your hands and throwing your arms around him as he steps up to you and kisses your forehead.

“Hello there my love. How was your day? I hope it’s okay I stopped by?” He looks at you with his signature playful grin and you can’t help but smile back, nodding enthusiastically.

“It’s always okay when you stop by, Loki. Having you around is a blessing.” You wince at how needy that sounds, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, his eyes lock on the pill bottle and concern paints his face.

“How are you feeling, (Y/N)?” He asks cautiously, and you flush, embarrassed knowing he caught sight of your meds.

“I-I’m fine, Loki. I had a moment, but I’m good now.” You give him a tumultuous smile, lying through your teeth because you’re still shaky on the inside, and he smiles softly at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and giving your waist a squeeze.

“If you need me, you can always call, you know that,” Loki murmurs, and you nod, even though you have your doubts. If you called him as often as you needed him to calm you down or give reassurances, you’d be calling him nearly every day, if not more frequently, and you know that’s something you can’t do, not without being seen as too fragile and weak, so it won’t happen. You can’t look weak.

Someone knocks on the door and you extract yourself from Loki’s hold, grabbing your wallet and sending him a guilty smile. “I got a pizza , I was hungry. You’re welcome to some if you want!” You offer before opening the door and exchanging the money for the food, your stomach growling as the delicious smell wafts under your nose.  

You then shut the door and return to the couch, setting the pizza box on the coffee table in front of you. Loki grabs a slice out and picks up the television remote, queueing up your regular show on Netflix. He settles in, smiling as you relax with your own slice and cuddle up to him.

~~~

A few weeks pass, and your mental health has only gotten worse.

Your apartment has become a mess with laundry, trash, and dishes piled everywhere. You rarely leave unless absolutely necessary; and you haven’t been in touch with much of anyone lately. You’ve texted Loki a few times, and your friends even less, leaving them all worried about you. Loki has fielded concerns and complaints from your friends, and he knows your behavior isn’t healthy, knows that it’s time to confront you.

Knocking on you door, he waits patiently, but there’s no answer. He knocks again, waits again, and finally, after ten minutes of waiting, lets himself in, picking his way through the mess on the floor to you, who is sitting in a chair in the kitchen, staring at the blank computer in front of you, not seeing a thing.

“(Y/N)? Princess? What’s going on?” He asks quietly, kneeling down beside you, and it takes you a few moments to acknowledge him, turning your head towards him, your red-rimmed eyes meeting his.

“I… I just had a bad day, that’s all.” Your voice is hoarse, cried-out and rusty from days of non-use. Loki, frowning, takes your hands in his firmly, pulling you from your seat and over onto the couch. You can feel the nerves and panic churn in your belly, feel your palms start to sweat; this is definitely about to be a serious talk. Dread mixes with the concoction of fear already there, and you fight down the panic attack as Loki begins to talk.

“(Y/N), sweetheart, you’ve been having a lot of really bad days lately, and… Well, I think you need to get some professional help, go see a therapist. Me and your friends, we love you and we want to help you, but…” he lifts your hands and presses a gentle kiss to them, “there’s only so much we can do, so much we can shoulder, and we’re reaching our limit. It hurts me to do this, to say this, but you need to hear it. I… I really hope it’s the wake-up call you need.”

When Loki looks up at you, tears are in your eyes, as they are in his, and he has to look away, the pain from seeing you hurting too strong for him to face. The saying goes that the truth hurts, but hurting you is the last thing he ever wanted to do. However, you’re hurting far too much, and like he had said, you need more help than he and your friends can offer. Confronting you like this was a good decision, one that will hopefully benefit everyone.

“Oh Loki, I… I’m so sorry!” You sob out the words, and it cracks Loki’s heart to hear, but he doesn’t say anything, staying quiet to let you continue. “I’ll try to better, I really will! I’ll go see a therapist, talk to someone. I’ll do whatever it takes, so long as you don’t abandon me.” The idea wracks your body with another round of shuddering sobs, and Loki pulls you to him, holding you tightly.

“I couldn’t abandon you, my love. I promise,” he murmurs as you cry, your body shaking. Absently he marks surprise that you’re still producing tears, but he banishes that thought almost immediately, rubbing slow circles across your back in an attempt to comfort you.

When your crying slows to a stop and you compose yourself, you pull away from him and grab your laptop. “Will you help me look for a good therapist?” You ask hesitantly, and he agrees without a thought, settling in for a long night of research.

~~~

The therapist you find has some unconventional ideas and ‘treatments,’ but they actually help, according to reviews, at least a little. And she has an emergency 24-hour line that you can call if things get really bad. Loki even comes with you as encouragement when you go in for a meeting, to see if she’s someone you’d want to work with in the future. You aren’t sure at first if you can regularly go, if you want to admit to yourself that you need to go, but one night it feels like rock bottom and you know it’s time to start doing something about your mental health.

Staring at the mirror, mascara streaked down your face, you sit by an inbox full of unopened emails and a phone full of unanswered texts, knowing you can’t go on like this. You feel so alone, so abandoned, so lied to. Loki said he’d never leave, never abandon you, but he’s gone, off on some Asgardian responsibility trip, and you can’t bother him, not with this, not now. Your friends? Gone, stopped talking to you what feels like a long time ago, unable to handle the dramatic failure you are becoming, so you can’t turn to any of them now. There was only so much they could do to help, that’s what Loki had said. It seems like they’ve given up on you. Scrolling through your phone, your eyes land on the emergency number for a therapist you’ve visited and talked to only once, and in a desperate attempt for some connection, some acknowledgment, you call.

The conversation is nothing short of hysteria on your part, full of pain and little hope, and it’s a complete blur in your mind, the words lost in the haze of panic and despair that had taken over before you had called.

~~~

It’s been a few weeks since you had called the therapist, Dr. Engleton, and things are looking up, thanks to weekly meetings with the doctor.  As prescribed, you take your meds and constantly stick Post-It notes everywhere in the house with messages like “It’s just one day, you can do it” and “Life is too short to spend another day at war with yourself,” sayings that are meant to encourage and strengthen, especially when you’re struggling. Your life is by no means perfect, you are by no means perfect, but life feels more manageable, and you’re slowly mending your life and relationships.

The first person you apologize to is Loki. Meeting him in a coffee shop once he’s back from Asgard, you hand over a letter you wrote, a plea for forgiveness, an admission of guilt and weakness and fear that you feel covers only a fraction of what he deserves. He forgives you immediately, saying he’s just glad you’re finally getting the help you need. The two of you return to your house, where you pull him to the couch for your own serious talk.

“Loki, I need your help. Again. I will need you to keep me accountable, keep me going to sessions and doing the work Dr. Engleton has me doing. Right now though, mostly, I need you to help me be strong enough to write these apologies, explain what happened and what is happening.” You take a deep, shaky breath, and look him in the eyes. “I need people to know that I’m struggling, that I’m thankful for all they’ve done, and that I am working on getting better.” Loki’s smile is wide and he nods enthusiastically, committing himself to you all over again.

“Of course I’ll help sweetheart. Anything you need,” he promises, and you both let out nervous chuckles when your stomach growls. “Maybe my first contribution will be pizza.” He jokes, but then pulls out his phone and places your usual order anyway, before you can really protest.  Order placed, Loki stands and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m going to get the food, get us some drinks, and grab some snacks for later. If you feel like it, go ahead and start writing, but if you can’t, don’t force yourself. I’ll be back soon. I love you. And maybe when I’m back, you can explain the sticky notes around the house.” He grins and points at a few of the aforementioned sticky notes, presses another kiss to your forehead, then walks out the door, leaving you to face down your fears as you pull out blank sheets of paper to start apologizing to everyone you’ve hurt.

You stare long and hard at the piece of paper in front of you, debating on what to say, then get to work, writing out your apology:

“To everyone I’ve hurt, to everyone who’s stuck beside me even when I’ve disappeared:

I’m sorry.

The good news is, I’m getting help. I’m going to therapy. I’m working towards getting better. It’s not complete, it’s not perfect, and I’ll never truly be okay, but that’s okay. I’m never going to stop getting panic attacks, or going through depressive, isolating periods, but I will know how to deal with them, how to let someone know I’m struggling, and I’m even starting medication that is supposed to help…”

The letter continues and once it’s done, you set it aside and look over at Loki, who has just walked in with the pizza. He smiles at you and you return the smile, then hold up the papers before you, indicating you started writing the letters. You glance at the sticky notes stuck around the room, knowing there are more throughout the rest of the apartment, and a fond smile flits across your face.

Things aren’t perfect, but they’re getting better, and that’s what matters.

@calmjoon @quilliamfears @winchester-with-wings @mrswhozeewhatsis @myfand0msandm0re @feelmyroarrrr @danijimenezv @mogaruke @aikibriarrose @sea040561 @becs-bunker @meganwinchester1999 @letsdisneythings @gone-to-fight-the-fairies @autoblocked @ashengem @mysticalhood-main @haven-in-writing @emoryhemsworth @sassy-losechester @enthusiastic-french-toast @nochillphd

[pagesofivy]

Stupid Shopping

Pairing: Sam Wilson x plus size!reader

Warnings: self doubt, stupid clothes being too small, some angst with your fluff.

Beta: @quilliamfears

W.c. 1381

A/N: This is for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan ‘s Full Figured Fantasy writing challenge. My prompt was “Life is way too short to spend another day at war with yourself.” This challenge is super close to my heart and I had three different ideas for where I wanted to take the prompt. I still might do those later but that’s a maybe, when I’m feeling inspired. This actually started as a different fic focused on Sam’s wings and having a wing!kink but the prompt took me elsewhere and I’m really happy with it. I dunno who to tag, sorry! Forevers and marvel tags will be on the reblog.

The first thing that caught your attention about Sam Wilson was his wings. He was out practicing as you rolled up to the Avengers compound in your car, and you’d been fascinated by the man’s movements. Too soon, he’d landed on a roof and out of your sight, and you continued on in your travels, going through the security and into the compound to meet with Steve and Tony about a spot on the tech side of the team.

They’d accepted you, invited you to stay on the compound too, and you’d accepted, quickly falling into the little family they’d created. Sam continuously fascinated you, and you’d made a couple more pairs of wings similar to his to tinker with.

Sam sits with you when you work, giving his thoughts and opinions on your designs and tweaks, asking for certain things, praising you for your ideas. He watches as you work on other tech too, fascinated, and you talk to him as you work, explaining some of the more simple things. Once he got the simple stuff, you start explaining the more complicated things, and eventually your conversation moves to more friendly topics.

It’s always hot in your lab, so when you work, you wear a tank top and shorts, though you’ll wear more when you’re doing something dangerous. When Sam hangs out, at first, you’re self-conscious about what you wear, knowing that it shows off your chubby thighs, arms, and sometimes stomach, but Sam never seems to notice, so eventually it goes to the back of your mind and you get lost in the tech.  

You don’t let him know about your insecurities, when you two become friends. You also don’t tell him that you’re falling in love with him, because there’s no way he could feel the same. Not with Nat and Wanda and all the other thin, gorgeous, badass women that inhabit the compound. Not when you’re curvy, thick, chubby, whatever you call it. You’re bigger than average, plus size by all means. ‘Full-figured’ your mom would say, a soft smile on her face. But you shake that thought out of your mind as an announcement comes over the annoying speakers Tony installed throughout the bunker.  “There’s going to be a party tonight, fancy dress, attendance required. That means you, (Y/N). Starts at 7 p.m.” Scowling at the speaker as Tony’s voice cuts off, you let out a frustrated huff and throw down your tools. Sam frowns and reaches out for you, taking your hand in his and pulling you to face him.

“What’s the matter, (Y/N)? It’s just a stupid party. I’m not sure why Stark called you out like that, but if you don’t have anything to wear, we can play hooky and go shopping for something. I need a suit anyway.” Sam offers, smiling up at you encouragingly, and you hesitate a moment before nodding.

“Yeah, I need to go shopping for something. He only called me out because he knows I tend to avoid his parties. I always feel kinda out of place around everyone.” You admit, pulling away and cleaning up your workbench a bit so that you can play off your admission like it’s not a big deal. Sam doesn’t say anything, just waits patiently and frowns, but he plasters a smile on his face before you can see.

“Well, let’s go! I should get a suit in some wild color just to piss Stark off.” His grin is genuine and mischievous, and you laugh as you turn and meet his eyes.

“Definitely a great plan. Let me get in some clean clothes then we’ll go.” You grin back at him and head out, leaving him to shut the lights off and lock the door; or rather, have F.R.I.D.A.Y. do it, but still.

Going shopping was a mistake. You’d been to three stores so far, ignored the judgmental looks from the sales staff that clearly said you didn’t belong, and endured the dress zippers and fabrics all getting caught on your curvy frame.

“None of this stuff fits, Sam.” You whisper as you stare at yourself in the dressing room mirror, dress half-zipped, stuck at your hip. This is the fourth dress you’ve tried on in this store and none have worked so far. You want to scream, rip up the dresses, and disappear. You slip this one off and tug on your street clothes, not noticing Sam in the dressing room with you at first.

“Life is way too short to spend another day at war with yourself babygirl.” Sam murmurs, coming up behind you and resting his hands on your waist, meeting your eyes in your mirror. His voice makes you jump, his touch surprising you, and tears well in your eyes as you shake your head, sniffling.

“I don’t know how not to, Sam. I can ignore it most of the time, but times like these, when Tony wants to throw fancy parties, when I have to go shopping and dress up, I… I can’t.” Your tears roll down your face and Sam whirls you around, cupping your face in his hands.

“I’ll be right there with you, princess. Wear whatever you want. Hell, I’ll find someone that will make your dress specifically for you, if that’s what you want. Please, just don’t cry beautiful.” His voice cracks, saddened, and you sniffle, reaching up to wipe at your face.

“Sam, stop, it’s fine. I don’t expect you to do anything like that, I just won’t go to the party. It’s not a big deal.” You try to pull away but Sam follows, shaking his head.

“I need you to look at me, (Y/N). Please.” His plea breaks whatever will you have and you meet his eyes, which are almost as teary as your own. “You are gorgeous. You don’t need these damn clothes from these stupid stores that don’t like making clothes for anyone above a size zero. You take my breath away every day, whether you’re wearing a tanktop and shorts, covered in grease and oil from working on my wings, or long sleeves and jeans on a cold day. Hell, you could wear a flour sack and you’d still steal my heart every time. Wear what makes you feel good, and ignore everyone else. I love you, (Y/N), and it kills me to see you hurting like this.” His admission stops you cold and your breath catches in your throat, not sure what to say.

“You… You love me, Sam?” You whisper, eyes pleading with him that this isn’t a joke, that he’s being honest. You’re not sure if you can handle him toying with your emotions. Sam smiles softly at you and leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away. When you don’t, Sam presses his lips to yours, conveying all manner of unspoken emotions, and you’re so shocked that you don’t really kiss back. He starts to pull away, taking your non-response as rejection, but you surge forward and kiss him, making Sam chuckle quietly at your eagerness.

“Believe me, babygirl?” He asks when you break apart, grinning brightly at you. You flush, embarrassed by your brazenness, but nod, smiling shyly at him.

“Yeah, I believe you Sam. And uh, I kind of love you too. Just in case you didn’t know.” You declare, and Sam smirks, his eyes dancing.

“I had a guess, from that fiery kiss you just gave me, but it’s good to hear it out loud. Now, let’s go home, we can watch movies or something instead of going to Tony’s lame-ass party.” He suggests, but you surprise him when you shake your head.

“Nah, there’s a consignment shop around the corner, they usually have some cool prom dresses and stuff in my size, we can check there for something. And find you your crazy-colored suit.” You tease, wiping the last of the tears from your eyes, and Sam laughs, pressing a kiss to your temple as you walk out of the dressing room area, his arm over your shoulders.

“Anything for you babygirl.” He promises, and you hold your head a little higher, feeling ready to take on whatever the day, and Tony’s party, has to throw at you.

[revwinchester]

Centerfold - Part 4

Summary:  Dean stumbles across an interview and photoshoot starring his high school crush (and younger brother’s friend) Castiel.  He decides he’s going to stop at nothing to get back in touch with the boy with the blue eyes who used to sit in front of him in homeroom.

Genre: Mostly fluff with a touch of angst

Pairing: Destiel

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 1218

Series Warnings: AU - No Supernatural, Porn Star Cas, Mentions of Sex (but no depictions), Bastardization of SPN Lines, Scenes, and Episode Titles

A/N: This whole series came out of a prompt for @thinkwritexpress-official‘s Back To School Challenge!  The fic is based on the J Gelis Band song “Centerfold” in which a man finds his high school crush on the pages of his favorite porn magazine.

Find it on AO3

Centerfold Masterlist

Centerfold - Part 4 - 

Over the next few weeks, it seemed to Sam that Dean was back to himself and his regular schedule, all thoughts of Cas pushed from his mind.

So, when Cas texted the younger Winchester one Friday to tell him he’d be in town, he didn’t think much of it.  The pair set up a dinner and, just to be on the safe side, Sam didn’t tell his brother.  He often stayed at the office late, working on some case or another, so he knew Dean wouldn’t think twice about his absence.  

As Sam and Cas caught up over an appetizer, Sam contemplated telling the man that he knew what kind of modeling he had been doing.  The right moment never seemed to present itself, though, and ‘Hey, Cas, how’s the porn industry been treating you?’ felt way too abrupt.

Their meals arrived and Castiel’s entire demeanor shifted as he cut into his steak.  “I hope you don’t mind, but I have an ulterior motive for this dinner,” Cas confessed.  “I am in need of some legal advice.”

Sam leaned forward, going into “lawyer mode” as Dean liked to call it.  “Sure Cas, what’s up?”

Cas took a deep breath and confided, “I think I have a stalker; it’s part of why I came back here this time.  I’ve been getting weird phone calls for the last month.  It’s always the same number at about the same time each day and there’s always a person on the other end but they never talk, not really anyway.”  The words were pouring out of Castiel’s mouth and he couldn’t have stopped now if he had wanted to.  “I’ve been zealous in keeping my professional life and my private life separate but all of the calls are coming from Kansas to my work phone.  There have always been some weird fans of my work but nothing that raised any red flags before.  

“Only one of my brothers knows that number and he swears that it’s not him and he hasn’t given it to anyone or talked about the, uh, finer points of my career with anyone.”  Cas paused and took a deep breath, looking his friend in the eye, “Sam, I work in the porn industry.  On camera.  I’ve made a name for myself on screen.  It’s not something that I’m ashamed about but I know that the majority of my family would not be able to handle that knowledge so you and my brother Gabriel are the only ones from my Kansas life that know this.”

Sam let Cas get everything out with what he hoped was a supportive look on his face.  When his friend finally stopped talking, Sam held his gaze.  “I already know, Cas,” Sam admitted, “and I think I have an idea about who your stalker is.”

Castiel’s eyes went wide with surprise but Sam didn’t find any embarrassment in them or in his voice when he spoke.

“How?”

Sam wasn’t sure if Cas was asking how Sam knew about his career or how he already might know who his stalker was but the answer was essentially the same.  “Dean, my brother, he came across your spread in, uh, Hot Rod Hotties and he recognized you from high school.”  Sam noticed a small smile on his friend’s face at the mention of his brother.  Deciding to use this to his advantage and hoping to get Dean out of some of the trouble he could - deservedly - end up in, he leaned in conspiratorially, knowing his brother would kill him for what he was about to share.  “He was really excited to come across the interview, Cas.  I’m pretty sure he had a crush on you in high school and seeing you in one of his magazines rekindled some of that.”

Sam braced himself before he told Cas the rest of the story.  How Dean had pestered Sam for his number for a few weeks before trying something more drastic and how he had followed his brother into the city and listened in while Dean had managed to sweet talk his way into getting Castiel’s phone number from the magazine.  Sam was glad when Cas laughed at the part where the receptionist had mistaken him for a model but he steeled himself for the end of the tale.  Sam confessed that he had overheard Dean’s first call to Cas.

“I should have told you right then, Cas, but he floundered so much and then never brought it up again so I assumed it was over.”  Sam looked down at the table, staring at his meal.  “I’m sorry.”  Sam fidgeted for a moment, feeling uncomfortable with the silence that lingered between him and his friend.  When his eyes returned to Castiel’s, though, Sam found that the man had an incredulous look on his face.

“Dean had a crush on me in high school?” Cas asked, his voice full of awe and disbelief.

If that was where Cas was going to focus his attention, instead of on Dean’s creepy behavior, Sam wasn’t going to stop him.  “Yeah,” Sam confirmed.  “I mean, he wasn’t out yet and he never really talked to his kid brother about it but he’s always been awkward with the guys he’s liked.  With the girls, he can be super cool and smooth but the guys get him flustered.  I remember the stories you used to tell me about how he’d act towards you and they fit his M.O., I just didn’t realize it as a kid.”

Cas sighed.  “I was practically in love with your brother,” he shared.  “My first film… The script was great, or as great as it gets in porn, but one of the reasons I signed on to Lazarus Rising was because the lead reminded me of Dean.”  Cas was blushing and, if he was being honest, Sam was too, but for a completely different reason.  

The conversation had not gone where Sam had been expecting and, while Sam had no issues with knowing his friend was working in porn, he didn’t care to imagine Dean - or someone who looked like Dean - having sex.  Sam turned the conversation back to a topic that was both safer and more volatile all at once.  “Cas, let me see the call log on your phone?  I want to make sure that it was Dean who was calling you.”

Cas fished his phone from his pocket and held it up so that the facial recognition software would unlock it.  He tapped the screen a few times and then passed the device across to Sam.  

Sam scrolled through Castiel’s incoming calls.  Every day right around 5:15 there was a call from a number that was nearly as familiar as Sam’s own.  It was Dean, alright, and he seemed to be calling Cas while he was on his way home from the garage.  As he looked at his brother’s number repeated daily in Castiel’s call log, Sam began to form a plan.

“Do you want to get back in touch with Dean?” Sam asked.  He knew the answer already but needed to hear Cas say it.  His friend agreed readily and Sam continued, “I think you need to mess with him a little first, to get him back for freaking you out with all of his calls.”

If you would like to be added to (or removed from) one of my tag lists, please send me an ask and let me know!  The lists I’m tagging for this fic are story specific and then my forevers and my Destiel tags (if anyone signs up for that one).

Centerfold Tags: @shutupiminlooove

ALL THE TAGS! (forevers): @deathtonormalcy56 @supernaturalyobsessed @roxy-davenport @sumara62 @ginamsmith @gallifreyansass @samwinjarpad @hexparker @thinkwritexpress-official @atc74

Destiel Tags from @mrswhozeewhatsis: @mrswhozeewhatsis @thinkwritexpress-official @deandoesthingstome @manawhaat @thegleegeneration @SinceriouslyAmellPadalecki @ferferelli @fangirling-instead-of-working @chrisatplay @faith-in-dean @mamaimpala @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @curliesallovertheplace @skybinx-blog @purgatoan @impossible-box @deansleather @faegal04 @sunriserose1023 @dr-dean @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @saving-things-hunting-family @jotink78 @i-dont-know-how-to-write @notnaturalanahi @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @mysaintsasinner @besslincoln-bruh @shelovesallthethings @klaineaholic @hexparker @rockhoochie

[revwinchester]

Centerfold - Part 5

Summary:  Dean stumbles across an interview and photoshoot starring his high school crush (and younger brother’s friend) Castiel.  He decides he’s going to stop at nothing to get back in touch with the boy with the blue eyes who used to sit in front of him in homeroom.

Genre: Mostly fluff with a touch of angst

Pairing: Destiel

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 1510

Series Warnings: AU - No Supernatural, Porn Star Cas, Mentions of Sex (but no depictions), Bastardization of SPN Lines, Scenes, and Episode Titles

A/N: This whole series came out of a prompt for @thinkwritexpress-official​‘s Back To School Challenge!  The fic is based on the J Gelis Band song “Centerfold” in which a man finds his high school crush on the pages of his favorite porn magazine.

This is the second to last part of the fic!  Yikes!!

Find it on AO3

Centerfold Masterlist

Dean was on his way home from the garage, giving himself a pep talk as he drove.  “You can do this.  Just man up and say ‘hello.’  It’s two damn syllables, it should be easy.  You’ve got this.”  Dean’s thumb, which had been hovering over the call button on his phone, touched down on the screen and he pressed the device to his ear.  The phone rang twice, like it usually did, and then Castiel’s voice sounded through the earpiece.

“Hello?”

Dean opened his mouth to speak but, once again, he found himself tongue tied.

“Who the hell is this?” Cas asked his voice sounding angry, “Why do you keep calling?”

They were questions Castiel had asked before but Dean had never been able to answer out loud.  Dean pulled his phone from his ear and hung up quickly, tossing it onto the seat next to him with frustration.  He muttered to himself, berating his failure as he wondered what Cas thought of all of these phone calls.  “Probably nothing good,” Dean mumbled into the quiet of the car.

Another mile or so down the road, there was a car stopped on the side of the road, its four way flashing lights turned on.  Dean, needing a win, decided to stop and see if he could help out.  He pulled over behind the vaguely familiar Lincoln Continental, though he couldn’t place why he recognized the car.  It wasn’t one that he’d worked on at the garage recently, at least.  Someone was leaning into the trunk, looking for something and as Dean got out of his Impala, he could see what the trouble was.  The rear passenger tire was completely flat.  

“You need a hand?” Dean called out as he approached.

The person at the trunk stood up and turned around.  “I seem to have a flat tire.  I’ve got a spare back here but no jack,” he explained.

Dean recognized him immediately.  Cas.  It was Cas.  Here in Kansas.  His gravelly voice sounded even deeper in person than over the phone.  Dean pushed down his panic at being face to face with the object of his desire as best as he could.  “What are you doing here, Cas?” Dean questioned, regretting his words and tone immediately.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Cas asked, a look of confusion on his face.

‘Shit,’ Dean thought, ‘I’ve already messed this up.’  “Yeah, uh, sorry.  Dean Winchester, we went to high school together.  I was just surprised to see you back in town.”  Dean looked at Castiel’s car, something he could talk about without messing up, he hoped.  “So, without a jack, it’s pretty much impossible to change your tire here.  I work at Singer’s Auto.  I can call the guys and get you towed and then give you a ride to wherever you were headed.”  Dean hoped that he didn’t sound too eager.

Cas scoffed.  “You don’t have to do that… Dean, right?” he replied.  “I’ll figure something out.  I’ve got AAA.”

Dean was already jogging back to his car for his phone.  “At least let me call the guys to give you a tow,” he insisted.  “You won’t get anything quicker with triple A and Singer’s is the best shop in town.  The guys won’t over charge you or upsell you on work you don’t need.”  He made the call before Cas could disagree.  At least he’d have another chance to see the angel who had been haunting his dreams for the past month when Cas came to pick up his car the next day.  

Dean turned, giving Cas the chance to tell him to hang up but, to his relief, he was met with a small smile and a “Thank you, Dean.”  Once he hung up, he turned back to Cas.

“Benny is on his way.  Here’s my card so you know where to find your car.”  Dean handed Castiel a business card that proclaimed him manager of Singer’s Auto.  “You sure I can’t give you a lift.  You used to be good friends with my brother, Sam, and we were in homeroom together our senior year, I think,” Dean tried.  He didn’t just think they had shared the start of their day, he knew that Cas had been there, always sitting in front of him, just out of reach, but he didn’t want to come on too strong.  “I swear I’m not some creeper…”  Dean’s voice trailed off as he realized that a creeper was exactly what he had been towards Cas over the past month.  

Cas looked at him for a moment and chuckled at some private joke.  “Sam’s brother… I remember you now,” Cas acquiesced.  “I’m sure you’re not a creeper, as you put it, I just don’t want to inconvenience you, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than drive an old acquaintance around.”  

Dean kept himself from fidgeting, especially when Cas had said he wasn’t a creep.  “It’s really not a big deal.  Sam and I live together but he always works later than me,” he explained, “so there’s no one to miss me for the next couple of hours anyway.”  Dean could see that he almost had Cas convinced so he amped up the charm.  “Look, Cas, I honestly don’t mind and, if I’m being honest, most of my memories about you from high school involve me not being the most pleasant person that early in the morning… let me make it up to you and prove that I’m not a jerk after about 9 AM.”

Castiel smiled and nodded, “Alright, Dean, thank you.”  He followed Dean over the Impala and climbed into the passenger seat.  

Dean watched Cas out of the corner of his eye as the man took in his baby.  He appreciated how Cas reverently ran his hands across the leather of the seat and Dean loved the look of joy on his face as his eyes roamed the car’s interior.  Dean would be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined Cas sprawled out across the hood of his baby after seeing his shoot for Hot Rod Hotties and he wanted to ask Cas what he was thinking as he drank in the car but those words wouldn’t come.  Instead he asked, “So, where were you headed when your tire went flat?”

Cas jumped a little, as if Dean’s question pulled him out of a daydream.  “Oh, right,” he said, “I was on my way to the police station, actually.  I hope that’s not too far out of your way.”

Dean was surprised by Castiel’s answer and his breath hissed out between his teeth.  “It’s not but, uh, why were you heading there? If you don’t mind me asking.”  He started the car and pulled back onto the road, trusting that Benny would take good care of Castiel’s car.

Cas looked over at Dean, studying him as he drove.  “I need to file a police report, it’s actually why I’m back in Kansas,” he shared.  His voice was quiet but, to Dean’s relief, he didn’t seem afraid of whatever was bringing him to the police.  “I stayed in California for work after college but over the last month, my modeling has earned me a stalker and all of the phone calls are coming from this area.”

Dean didn’t like the sound of that and he was suddenly glad he had found Cas on the side of the road rather than whoever was…

“Oh, shit…” Dean realized.  It was him.  He was the stalker.  Luckily his words didn’t give him away and he was able to play it off as sympathy, rather than the recognition that it was.  “Hey, you know what?  The cops’ll be there all night,” Dean offered, attempting to change the subject and putting off his becoming the center of a police report.  “Why don’t we grab something to eat before I take you over there.  My treat.”

Cas was an easier sell than Dean had expected and, soon after, they were seated in a booth at the back of The Roadhouse with a couple of beers and food on the way.  The pair caught up and got to know each other, Dean not wanting to waste the one night he’d probably ever get with Cas.  They ate, drank, and laughed, Cas calling Dean out for some of his more asshole moments in high school and Dean apologizing by buying another round of beers.  Between the way Castiel’s eyes glittered when he would smile and the deep, resonant sound of his voice as he told Dean stories about his life in California, the evening was only reinforcing the crush that Dean had managed to harbor for the past fifteen or so years.

Dean was having an amazing time and, though it would ruin things between him and Cas, he knew he had to come clean about the phone calls.  He really didn’t want to bring them up but he took a deep breath and steeled himself for the conversation that would ruin everything.

“So, Cas, about your stalker…”

If you would like to be added to (or removed from) one of my tag lists, please send me an ask and let me know!  The lists I’m tagging for this fic are story specific and then my forevers and my Destiel tags (if anyone signs up for that one).

Centerfold Tags: @shutupiminlooove

ALL THE TAGS! (forevers): @deathtonormalcy56 @supernaturalyobsessed @roxy-davenport @sumara62 @ginamsmith @gallifreyansass @samwinjarpad @hexparker @thinkwritexpress-official @atc74

Destiel Tags from @mrswhozeewhatsis: @mrswhozeewhatsis @thinkwritexpress-official @deandoesthingstome @manawhaat @thegleegeneration @SinceriouslyAmellPadalecki @ferferelli @fangirling-instead-of-working @chrisatplay @faith-in-dean @mamaimpala @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @curliesallovertheplace @skybinx-blog @purgatoan @impossible-box @deansleather @faegal04 @sunriserose1023 @dr-dean @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @saving-things-hunting-family @jotink78 @i-dont-know-how-to-write @notnaturalanahi @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @mysaintsasinner @besslincoln-bruh @shelovesallthethings @klaineaholic @hexparker @rockhoochie

[revwinchester]

Centerfold - Part 2

Summary:  Dean stumbles across an interview and photoshoot starring his high school crush (and younger brother’s friend) Castiel.  He decides he’s going to stop at nothing to get back in touch with the boy with the blue eyes who used to sit in front of him in homeroom.

Genre: Mostly fluff with a touch of angst

Pairing: Destiel

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 1103

Series Warnings: AU - No Supernatural, Porn Star Cas, Mentions of Sex (but no depictions), Bastardization of SPN Lines, Scenes, and Episode Titles

A/N: This whole series came out of a prompt for @thinkwritexpress-official‘s Back To School Challenge!  The fic is based on the J Gelis Band song “Centerfold” in which a man finds his high school crush on the pages of his favorite porn magazine.

Find it on AO3

Centerfold Masterlist

Centerfold - Part 2

The brothers were sitting in the living room on Saturday afternoon when it happened.  Sam had just made himself some lunch and was reading while Dean was channel surfing.

“Hey, Sam, give me your phone for a minute?” Dean asked.

Sam looked at his brother and quirked an eyebrow.  “Why?” he asked as he fished the device from his pocket, waiting for Dean’s answer before he handed it over.

“There’s a movie that I thought was supposed to be on but I can’t find it,” Dean replied smoothly.  

Sam wasn’t certain Dean was lying to him but he decided to ask a few more questions just to make sure.  “Why can’t you just use the guide on the tv?” Clearly, that was the easiest option, unless Sam was missing something.

“I did, I didn’t see it.  I think I’ve got the wrong day or something and I just want to check,” Dean reasoned.

His brother was talking to much, giving longer responses than he usually would to Sam’s questions.  Something was definitely up.  “Why can’t you just use your own phone to check?”

Dean sighed dramatically.  “It’s up in my room.  The battery was almost dead so it’s up there charging.  Some new app or something that Benny suggested keeps draining it.”  With that, Dean’s text tone went off.

Sam smiled smugly as Dean reached into his pocket and drew out his phone.

“Huh, would you look at that…” Dean was flustered.  He was clearly unprepared for this turn of bad luck.  “I guess I’ve got my phone right here.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother.  “Dean, I’m not going to give you Castiel’s contact information and it’s going to take a lot more than that to steal it from me.”

Dean huffed in response, turning off the television and standing.  He glared at Sam, though it was clear his anger was directed at himself more than towards his brother, before grabbing the sandwich from Sam’s plate and taking a giant bite.  Dean threw the sandwich back onto the plate as he wrinkled his nose, obviously not expecting the filling to be veggies, and stalked out of the room, leaving Sam to shake with laughter as he picked up his book once more and settled in with his lunch.

The next few days went by without incident but Sam never let his guard down fully, always keeping his phone in his pocket or hidden away from his brother.

When Sam came out of the bathroom one morning just in time to see a frustrated Dean skulking away from his bedroom door, he decided to take some extra precautions.  He entered his room and looked around, noticing a few things that were slightly mussed or out of place but, luckily, not the place where he had hidden his phone.  Sam crossed to his dirty laundry and dug his phone from the pocket of yesterday’s jeans.  He opened up the settings and tapped the screen a few times.  He hadn’t wanted to resort to this - it was going to be obnoxious to deal with on a regular basis - but Sam knew Dean would eventually find his phone and, at this point, he was just as determined to protect Castiel’s information as Dean was to get it.  It had become a point of pride for both brothers.

The change paid of the next day.  Sam still hid his phone from Dean but he wasn’t quite as careful about it, now.  He had tucked it under the book he had been reading in the living room while he went to make himself some lunch.  When he got back, plate in hand, Dean had just cracked his passcode.  

“Come on, Sammy, your birthday?  Really?” Dean scoffed to himself as he tapped the familiar looking icon to pull up Sam’s contacts.  Sam watched his brother with amusement as Dean paused and looked down at the screen incredulously.  “What the hell?  Is this Cyrillic?” he mumbled.

Sam pushed off the door frame where he had been leaning with a laugh.  “Actually, it’s Greek,” he explained, plucking the phone from his brother’s fingers and returning to his seat on the couch.

Dean looked at his brother scandalized.  “How do you even use this?  It’s in Greek!  Nobody reads Greek!”

Sam set his plate on the coffee table in front of him.  “Yeah, except Greeks.  Oh, and Bobby, who taught me when you and dad would go off on your hunting trips and leave me behind.”

“You’ve known Greek since we were kids?  How did I not know about this?”

Sam just laughed again, this time at the dumbstruck look on his brother’s face, as he pocketed his phone and started in on his lunch.

Dean locked himself in his room for the rest of the afternoon and Sam gave the space a wide berth, assuming he was spending some quality time with his favorite magazines or websites.  When he finally emerged to make dinner, he had a look in his eye that made Sam nervous.  He grilled up some nice steaks and even made one of Sam’s favorite sides, grilled broccoli, while he was out there.  Sam was just pulling the fries out of the oven when Dean carried in the steaks and veggies.  They sat down together, a rarity during the week but their regular routine on Sunday evenings, and dug into their meals.

“I’m heading into the city tomorrow, you need me to pick you up anything?” Dean asked, his voice nonchalant.  

Sam’s forehead scrunched in confusion as he finished chewing the bite he had just taken.  “Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“I, uh, I… no… I…” Dean sputtered.  He apparently hadn’t expected Sam to question him.  “Uh, Bobby is sending me in to pick up some materials we need at the garage.”

Sam was not convinced but decided to play along.  “No, I don’t think I need anything.  I could come with you, if you wanted.  I just wrapped up a case and there’s nothing I’ve got that can’t hold on for a day.  It’s the best time for a day trip with my brother.”  Sam smiled inwardly at Dean’s slightly panicked expression.  His brother was trying to play it cool, he could tell, but he was failing spectacularly.  He definitely had something up his sleeve.  “We could make a day of it; it could be fun.”

“You don’t have to do that, Sammy,” Dean insisted.  “We’ll make some plans for a Saturday soon.  Don’t waste your time off on me, save it for if you ever find yourself a girlfriend.”  

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Sam acquiesced.

ALL THE TAGS! (forevers): @deathtonormalcy56 @supernaturalyobsessed @roxy-davenport @sumara62 @ginamsmith @gallifreyansass @samwinjarpad @hexparker @thinkwritexpress-official @atc74

Destiel Tags from @mrswhozeewhatsis: @mrswhozeewhatsis @thinkwritexpress-official @deandoesthingstome @manawhaat @thegleegeneration @SinceriouslyAmellPadalecki @ferferelli @fangirling-instead-of-working @chrisatplay @faith-in-dean @mamaimpala @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @curliesallovertheplace @skybinx-blog @purgatoan @impossible-box @deansleather @faegal04 @sunriserose1023 @dr-dean @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @saving-things-hunting-family @jotink78 @i-dont-know-how-to-write @notnaturalanahi @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @mysaintsasinner @besslincoln-bruh @shelovesallthethings @klaineaholic @hexparker @rockhoochie

[revwinchester]

Centerfold - Part 3

Summary:  Dean stumbles across an interview and photoshoot starring his high school crush (and younger brother’s friend) Castiel.  He decides he’s going to stop at nothing to get back in touch with the boy with the blue eyes who used to sit in front of him in homeroom.

Genre: Mostly fluff with a touch of angst

Pairing: Destiel

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 1498

Series Warnings: AU - No Supernatural, Porn Star Cas, Mentions of Sex (but no depictions), Bastardization of SPN Lines, Scenes, and Episode Titles

A/N: This whole series came out of a prompt for @thinkwritexpress-official​‘s Back To School Challenge!  The fic is based on the J Gelis Band song “Centerfold” in which a man finds his high school crush on the pages of his favorite porn magazine.  This is the last part before Cas joins us, y’all!!  Also, if one of the scenes looks familiar, I was using a transcript of 4.18 in order to get it just right while I twisted it to fit my story :)

Special thanks to my dearest Night Sloth who reads my stuff before y’all do and assures me it’s decent before I share it.

Find it on AO3

Centerfold Masterlist

Centerfold - Part 3 - 

The next morning, Sam got ready for work and left, parking his car just out of sight and waiting for Dean to leave the house.  He had decided to follow Dean to the city, despite his brother’s instance, so he had taken the day off of work but he had to keep up appearances if he was going to tail his brother.  Not too long after he had left, Sam watched Dean’s car drive by his hiding place and he pulled out to follow.  

As Dean drove into the city, Sam rode behind him staying back just far enough that his brother wouldn’t notice him but close enough that he wouldn’t lose sight of the Impala.  Once they got into the city, Sam was surprised that Dean drove toward the business district, eventually pulling into a parking garage.  Sam parked his car quickly, making it down to the sidewalk in time to see Dean duck into a building across the street.

By the time Sam got inside, Dean was no longer in the lobby but a quick scan of the building’s directory gave Sam an idea as to where his brother had gone.   Hot Rod Hotties had offices on the building’s fourth floor.  Sam elected to take the stairs, figuring he could hide his entrance better than he could on the elevator, and made his way up, his long legs taking the steps two at a time.  When he arrived on the fourth floor, he emerged into the small lobby for the magazine’s offices.  He couldn’t see Dean but he could hear him and Sam smiled at the receptionist.  

To his surprise, she waved him back toward the offices.  Sam didn’t question his luck and followed Dean’s voice, stopping just outside of an open office door to listen.  

“So, you book the talent for the magazine?  You made that interview with Jimmy Novak a reality?” he heard Dean ask.  

A woman answered.  “Yeah, Gosh, Jimmy… He never really gets the attention he deserves.  All anybody wants to watch anymore is that free hard core stuff, you know?  They don’t care about the story.  It’s all two minute videos like, ‘Red Headed Bimbo Gets The Pounding She Deserves.’  How do you get anything done in two minutes?” she scoffed.  “Please…”  Sam could practically hear her eyes rolling.

Sam heard Dean huff.  “I know, it’s just so… there’s no story there,” he agreed.  

Sam held in a snicker.  He could only imagine Dean’s inner turmoil.  His brother loved those short snippets just as much, if not more, than the longer films he’d downloaded but, clearly, sharing that wasn’t going to win him any favors here.

“I’m really hoping that my dissertation can shine a light on storytelling in pornography, bring some attention to an under appreciated art form,” Dean continued.

The woman in the office practically squealed.  “It really is under appreciated.  Thank you!  I mean, the best parts are between the sex!  Like, in Stuck In The Middle , where Jimmy Novak’s character thought he was going to die… he was on the verge of tears as he professed his love to his best friend and it felt so real…” her voice trailed off and Sam was almost positive he heard her sniffle.  “I mean, no offense, but how often do men actually act like that, really let it all out?”

“The orgy that followed really drove that feeling of love home,” Dean joked.  

Sam could practically envision the forced grin on his brother’s face and, apparently, the woman in the office didn’t miss it, either.

“Is that supposed to be funny? How do I know you’re legit?”

Sam imagined her getting up in Dean’s face, maybe poking a finger into his chest.

“Lady, this whole thing is funny,” Dean replied, digging his hole even deeper, but then he added, “Look, I’m legit.  This isn’t some smart ass paper that’s going to make fun of the industry.  I promise you.”

The woman considered Dean for a moment.  “I’m a sucker for a pretty face… what do you need?”

“Well, we were talking about Jimmy Novak, How can I get in touch with him?” Dean asked, almost too quickly.

“Oh, um, no…” The woman sputtered, “no, Sorry.  I can’t do that.”

“Oh, come on,” Dean pled, “I’m a big fan…”

The office was quiet for a few moments, only a rustling sound coming from inside.  Sam wasn’t sure what was going on in there but he was positive that he didn’t care to find out.  After a couple of minutes, Sam decided it was time for him to go.  Dean could be coming out of that office at any minute and Sam did not want to be there when that happened.  

He made his way down to the main lobby, the receptionist on the fourth floor mumbling something about how hot the talent was as he passed.  Sam did his best to blend in while he waited for his brother to come down and exit the building.  It was another few minutes before Dean did - with a giddy look on his face - and Sam followed him out the door.

Something had gone well in that office, Sam mused as he followed his brother down the street and away from the garage where they had parked their cars.  Luckily for Sam, whatever it was had given Dean tunnel vision of a sorts so he didn’t realize that he was being followed through the streets.

Dean turned into a park about two blocks from the office and Sam continued to trail him.  He was back far enough to change his course and creep up behind his brother when Dean stopped and sat on a park bench.  He watched as Dean pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in a phone number that had been written on a sheet of paper Sam hadn’t noticed while it was clutched in his brother’s hand.

As Dean pressed the phone to his ear, Sam quietly moved closer to him so that he could hear his brother’s phone call.  

After a couple of seconds, Dean’s shoulders tensed.  “Um… I…” His words were stilted and cut off and after a couple seconds of floundering, Dean pulled his phone away and slammed his thumb onto the red button that ended his call.  “Shit…” he muttered and Sam couldn’t hold his laughter back.

Snickering, Sam made his presence known to his brother, plopping down next to him on the bench.  “You finally got his number, didn’t you?” he asked, “And you couldn’t even talk to the guy!”  

Dean looked at his brother in shock, surprised that he was even there in this moment of spectacular failure.  “What? How? What… are you doing here?”

Sam’s laughter doubled at his brother’s confusion and it increased again when Dean scowled at him.  Sam forced himself to get under control so that he could answer.  “You were being super cagey last night.  I knew you weren’t in the city to pick something up for Bobby so I followed you.  You weaseled your way into getting Castiel’s number, right?”

Dean tried to summon up some bravado but he knew Sam had heard his phone call.  He hung his head as he replied.  “Yeah, I got his number from the magazine’s offices in town.  And then I totally messed up when I called him,” Dean mumbled.  He sighed deeply and added, “But I guess you know all of that if you’ve been following me.”

Sam sobered up at the defeated tone of his brother’s voice.  He sat beside Dean, trying to find the words that would comfort him without sending him into retreat mode at the indication that feelings might be on the table for discussion.  When that failed him, Sam tried anyway.  “Look, I know I’ve given you a hard time about this but, I mean, there are a lot of guys out there, Dean.  Don’t let this get to you.”

Dean chuckled darkly.  “Sure, Sammy, there are plenty of fish in the sea.  It’s not like I haven’t had a crush on this particular fish since high school, or anything.”

Sam didn’t have a response to that so he sat quietly with Dean for a few minutes.  “Let’s not waste the day, why don’t we head to the record store or something, at least, maybe grab dinner before we head back,” he offered.

Dean smiled up at him and stood, waiting for Sam to join him on his feet.  

Sam knew Dean could spend hours in this particular shop and he wasn’t surprised at all that his brother had made a beeline for the classic rock section.  As Dean began leafing through the boxes of old records, Sam could see that his brother already seemed to be feeling a little better.  They both knew that the distraction was only a temporary fix - a bandaid, so to speak - but it worked for now.  And when Dean wandered into the jazz section, Sam kept his mouth shut.

If you would like to be added to (or removed from) one of my tag lists, please send me an ask and let me know!  The lists I’m tagging for this fic are story specific and then my forevers and my Destiel tags (if anyone signs up for that one).

Centerfold Tags: @shutupiminlooove

ALL THE TAGS! (forevers): @deathtonormalcy56 @supernaturalyobsessed @roxy-davenport @sumara62 @ginamsmith @gallifreyansass @samwinjarpad @hexparker @thinkwritexpress-official @atc74

Destiel Tags from @mrswhozeewhatsis: @mrswhozeewhatsis @thinkwritexpress-official @deandoesthingstome @manawhaat @thegleegeneration @SinceriouslyAmellPadalecki @ferferelli @fangirling-instead-of-working @chrisatplay @faith-in-dean @mamaimpala @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @curliesallovertheplace @skybinx-blog @purgatoan @impossible-box @deansleather @faegal04 @sunriserose1023 @dr-dean @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @saving-things-hunting-family @jotink78 @i-dont-know-how-to-write @notnaturalanahi @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @mysaintsasinner @besslincoln-bruh @shelovesallthethings @klaineaholic @hexparker @rockhoochie

[pagesofivy]

Also y’all might get a game of thrones song fic too because I’m having Jon Snow feels and I dunno who to tag but once I get it written I’m gonna find people. Anyone have suggestions on who to tag?

[pagesofivy]

Back to School Challenge

So I’m nearly to 200 followers and I don’t want to wait to put this out. I fucking love writing challenges. And it’s almost time for me to go back to school. So I came up with this great challenge with a ton of prompts. There are songs, vague words, specific scenarios, and dialogue prompts. Some could be multiple. You’ll see.

I’ll throw all the information and prompts under the cut!

Rules:

You don’t have to follow me but that’d be cool

Pick a number, and send me an ask to let me know!

Can be any fandom- seriously, I’m in so many, I want to read from it all.

Due by November 25th. 

Tag me and tag it #twx school challenge

Feel free to send it to me via messages too, especially if I haven’t reblogged it within a day or two.

Any questions, just ask!

Prompts:

Home for the holidays

High school au

College au

Professor x student

Nerd x jock

Roommates

Library

Study buddies

Research

Teen au

Nerd x punk

Marching band

Doing laundry/laundry room on the dorm floor

Communal showers

School shopping

School supplies

Lab partners

Pen Pals

Coffee shop au

Meet cute

Meet awkward

Someone stole your (unassigned) seat

Support animals

Job searching

Unrequited love

Childhood/high-school sweethearts

The one that got away... Is now back.

Someone has extra meal plan and you have none so they take pity on you and share theirs

Enemies to lovers

“Centerfold” by The J. Geils Band

“Are you following me?”

“Not you again.”

Accidentally calling/texting the wrong number

You’re my tutor for this class but you’re talking way over my head please dumb it down for me more, I’m so sorry.

Kink/sex education club

“Wrong room, sorry!”

“Dancing Queen” by ABBA

“Girl Crush” by Little Big Town

“Not My Type At All” by Jacob Whitesides

Disney movie marathon

“Just A Kiss” by Lady Antebellum

“Picture” by Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow

Sports game/match/meet

“Stranger” by Jay Hayden & KingVodka

“Take a Hint” by Victoria Justice/The Victorious Cast

“You think I want to do this?”

First date

“What I Never Knew I Always Wanted” by Carrie Underwood

“I wish I never met you!”

“You need a study break. Dance with me.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Is it so wrong that I love you?”

Being dragged to a party by your roommate.

“Okay... This is new.”

That one person who doesn’t study but passes everything.

“I don’t think before I act, it’s part of my charm.”

“My uterus is shedding and I really want to stab you right now.”

Walking to class/school together.

Mistaking the professor for a student and bashing their class.

Being overheard talking about someone... by that person.

“This is the dumbest idea you’ve had in a long time.”

Artist/Art Major for a roommate/significant other

You’re the tech/IT person and you come to my room to check the (sucky) wifi and you’re cute I’m so sorry my room is a mess.

I’m taking this class so I can understand what the hell my best friend/significant other/whoever is talking about.

One night stand is accidentally your new professor. Whoops.

Being a nude model for art students/classes because you need the money and “it’s a good way to learn to love my body.”

College acceptance/rejection letters

Pretending to date to get your/their family off your/their back

Going to a speed friending/dating thing and “oh fuck you’re actually really sweet. Here’s my number, let’s get coffee?”

 We have to share a bed because my parents misread our friendship- We can be adults about this, right?

Spin the bottle/7 Minutes in Heaven

Drunk Twister

Strip poker

Everyone forgot my birthday but it’s- What? I thought you hated me? Thank you!

Halloweentown/Magic College Au

I told my parents I was with someone and now they’re coming to meet them, please pretend to be my significant other. I’ll do anything.

“I’m a fucking theater major. Of course I’m dramatic!”

I invited you to my band’s show/play but I didn’t expect you to come, thank  you so much.

Studying abroad/foreign exchange program/students

Soulmate au

Fake dating/married au

Escort au

Mean Girls Halloween- It’s a college Halloween party and you dressed up as something “normal” and not sexy but everyone else is in sex costumes and “Oh shit ok thank God it’s not just me, don’t leave my side.”

Accidentally matching with someone you see/someone in your class so “Okay now we have to be friends”

We’ve had four classes together in two semesters, and here we are again. It’s a sign. We’re friends now.”

“These bruises are marks of a good time. I’m proud of him. And I’m pretty sure he/she is too.” 

Tagging for interest and possible signal boosts: (honestly I scrolled my messages and my dashboard)

@winchester-with-wings @mrswhozeewhatsis  @myfand0msandm0re @feelmyroarrrr @kazchester-fanfiction @district-12-erudite @deansleather  @winchestergirl-13 @distinguishedqueenofbooks @uselessace @delightfullynoisystarlight @barbedwireandbubblegum @saxxxology @quiddy-writes @curliesallovertheplace @bladebarnes @retroasgardian @nichelle-my-belle @angryschnauzer @ursulaismymiddlename @marveloznerd @mysaintsasinner @daniyell619 @hunters-hiraeth @samsgoddess @supernaturalismalife @sassy-losechester @captainsbabysitter-blog @auduna-druitt @bkwrm523 @evansrogerskitten @natasha-cole @team-gabriel @sams-little-toy @pinknerdpanda @papi-chulo-bucky @plumfondler @vintagevalentinexx @vvintersouldier @tssweets @this-kitty-has-claws @lacqueluster @wonders-of-the-enterprise @impala-dreamer