#Love the crows but that was (and still is) obnoxious as hell hearing it get brought up every other message

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I truly, from the bottom of my heart, hate angst without catharsis.

[rocorambles]

Shiny New Toy

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader 

Genre/Warnings: Military Officer Matsukawa x Prisoner of War Reader AU, Yandere, Non-Con/Rape, Bondage, Sex Toys, Degradation, Overstimulation, Objectification, Humiliation, Body Writing, Mentioned/Implied�� Non-Con Branding, Knife Marking, Tattooing

Summary: Most people would consider having a white Christmas a stroke of good luck, but you’re about to find out just how untrue that is. 

Author’s Note: This fic is for the Lovesick Server’s December collab and the theme is Stormy Nights~ Be sure to check out the amazing work by other members here.

When most people dream of a white Christmas, they think about soft fluffy snow you can easily shape into snowmen, they think about fluttering snowflakes they can gaze at as they sit inside a cozy home surrounded by their family. 

Not you. 

When you dream of a white Christmas, you pray for a thunderous snowstorm, you pray for harsh winds, frigid temperatures, you pray for anything severe enough to serve as a distraction, to keep the demons and monsters at bay. 

And it takes every ounce of self-control not to accidentally betray how relieved and thankful you are as your guards for the day are sloppy enough to leave you uncuffed, hastily throwing down enough food to last you a few days in their rush to return to the safety and warmth of their barracks, unwilling to venture out more than necessary to feed you multiple times a day during the blizzard outside. 

They still have enough sense to lock the cell door behind them as they scurry back to the merry celebrations, too afraid to deal with the wrath of their superior officers. And you can’t blame them, not when Oikawa’s sadistic streak and Iwaizumi’s untempered rage are infamous throughout the nations, not when you’ve seen firsthand just how cruel the Seijoh Four can be. 

Painful memories of fire, screams, and blood flood your mind and you grit your teeth as you push them aside. There would be time for grief and mourning later. But for now, you need to escape first.

You examine the lock in front of you, the one thing separating you from freedom. It’s not a bad piece of work. Sturdy, strong, and reliable. But it’s nowhere near the craftsmanship and skill you’re used to. After all, when you come from Date Tech, the nation famous for its Iron Walls, its ironwork, its ability to manipulate all types of metal to do or be whatever the heart desires, nothing compares. And it’s laughably easy to make said lock useless as you quietly creep outside for the first time in months. 

It’s quiet. Not a soul is in sight and you slow your breathing and thoughts down as you concentrate. What’s the next step? Which direction should you go? What’s the overall plan?

For once you’re thankful for how the guards they’ve been sending could care less about your presence, treating you nothing more than an object as they blatantly ignore you and carry on conversation as if you’re not there. You know that despite the fact that most of Miyagi has been conquered, three nations still remain in an endless war against each other.

Karasuno. Shiratorizawa. Aoba Johsai. 

It’s just your luck that you’d ended up a prisoner of war by the worst of the three, humiliated and kept alive as a trophy and symbol of what they had accomplished. At least if Date Tech had been conquered by Shiratorizawa you’d be dead within seconds once Ushijima had deemed you unworthy and far too weak to live up the to high standards of his warriors. 

But Karasuno...you don’t know much about the crow nation, a nation that had kept a low profile for as long as you could remember, only to recently rear its head and prove that they’ve kept up with the best of the best despite their long isolation. But you do remember the kind faces of their high ranking officers when they had gotten into a conflict with Date Tech long ago, how surprisingly amicable the two sides were as Date Tech admitted defeat, preparing for the worst, only to be surprised as Karasuno had peacefully left after having your nation promise an alliance with them, leaving your home relatively in one piece, letting your authorities remain in power, allowing your people to live normally.

It’s decided then. The game plan is to escape to Karasuno and hope that Daichi Sawamura is as just and kind as you remember. 

Determined, you carefully listen and check your surroundings, grateful for the added coverage the snowstorm provides, relieved when you hear the distant drunken shouts and celebrations as the soldiers celebrate the joyous holiday, tucked away in the mess hall quite a distance from you. And you brace yourself as the wind howls around you, as the icy snow stings your bare feet and legs, soaking through your tattered clothing. But like hell you’re going to let something as silly as frostbite stop you and you darkly think that dying from hypothermia would be a preferable way to leave this world than by the hands of a Seijoh officer. 

Escape is tantalizingly close and you forget about the way your body feels numb from the bitter cold, forget about how your teeth chatter and your body shivers when you see the nearing enclosure, so focused on the exit that you don’t notice the solitary tall figure casually leaning against a wall nearby, curiously watching your stumbling weary body make its way towards the opening, amusement in his eyes when you pass him, completely unaware of his presence as your eyes sparkle from seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Matsukawa doesn’t care much for Christmas. Well to be fair, he doesn’t care much about holidays or celebrating in general, finding the rowdy atmosphere headache inducing, the raucous volume irritating, the crowds of people bothersome. But Oikawa and Hanamaki love their social events and it boosts squad morale, so needless to say of course there is an obnoxious holiday party raging on, with Iwaizumi playing babysitter. And Matsukawa had slipped out as soon as he could, finding strange comfort in the tumultuous weather outside, unfazed by the way snow slashed across his face as he walked and walked until only the sounds of wind and the night accompanied him. 

So imagine his surprise when their adorable little prisoner shows up in the midst of the blizzard like a ghostly apparition, struggling through the elements in a desperate attempt to escape. Honestly he doesn’t know why you’ve been kept in the cell for so long and he supposes you have Iwaizumi to thank for Oikawa not sinking his teeth and claws into you already, the green eyed general having a softer heart than most would assume knowing his reputation. But your luck has run out and not even Iwaizumi can save you from punishment and Matsukawa’s penchant for ruining pretty things. 

Suddenly Christmas doesn’t seem so bothersome after all as Matsukawa’s long legs swiftly carry him to you, his arm quickly wrapping around your neck from behind and squeezing until your nutrient deprived and half frozen body collapses in his arms. 

You groan when you come back to your senses, sinking into the soft surface you’re laying on. 

Wait. Soft surface?

Your eyes shoot open and your arms instinctively move to help you sit up, only for you to falter as something keeps your arms bound behind your back and you flail and struggle to move your tied up body as you gauge your surroundings, feeling nauseous when you recognize the turquoise and white uniform jacket hung up by the door, staring in disbelief and humiliation when you finally look down at yourself, the glowing Christmas lights adorning and highlighting your body as they weave around your breasts and between your legs. And you can only assume that’s what you feel wrapped around your arms, keeping them immobile behind your back as your naked body fights against its restraints on the bed you’ve been placed on. 

 But you scream, all thoughts of escape zapped out of you when two devices come to life inside of you and you sob in shame and panic as both your lower holes are assaulted by the vibrators inside of them, the tangle of lights looped between your legs keeping the toys firmly shoved inside of you despite the way you try to push them out of you. 

Matsukawa doesn’t understand the appeal of Christmas lights or decorations nor does he understand Oikawa’s fascination of sex toys and overwhelming his play things with plastic, rubber, and metal, preferring the surge of pride that courses through him when he wrecks his sluts with his body alone. But as he watches you writhe in front of him, your eyes glistening with hopeless tears, your nipples perky and erect, your moans and whimpers filling the room as he sits back and relaxes, his large hand slowly palming his hardening cock that he untucks out of his trousers, he admits that maybe he had been too quick to judge, grateful he hadn’t immediately dumped the box of gag gifts his brunette captain had gifted him bright and early this Christmas morning. 

“I know you don’t like toys, Mattsun. But you should test these out on the new batch of prisoners we get from the next raid!”

You aren’t a new prisoner, but he’s sure Oikawa wouldn’t mind that he was using them on you. If anything, the brunette would probably be jealous that he’d claimed you first. 

Time ceases to exist as Matsukawa watches you, fingers idly tapping away on buttons and a smirk spreading across his face at how receptive you are to the setting changes, how little he has to do to have your body contorting and your voice wantonly wailing as orgasm after orgasm is ripped from you. But he grows tired of watching from afar after he forces you to break apart countless times and he draws near, stroking his now fully erect cock as he mockingly whistles at how you’ve soaked the bed sheets near your cunt and drenched the lights shoved against your folds, laughing at how your back arches and your eyes roll back when he roughly pinches and twists your nipples. 

It’s like you were made to be played with. And suddenly Matsukawa can’t get his hands on his new toy fast enough, unwinding the soaked string of lights from your lower half and bending your legs before retying the lower strands of lights so that they bind your calves to your thighs, enjoying the view as the vibrator in your pussy easily slips out from your loosened sopping wet hole while he teasingly pulls and shoves back in the large vibrating plug he keeps nestled inside of your ass. 

You really are just like a sex toy or a fuck doll, other than that scowl on your face and the raging hate and disgust in your eyes. But the fierce look only stirs deeper lust and anticipation in the officer as he eagerly awaits the moment you completely break because of him, large hands easily hauling your bound body by the waist and forcing you to straddle his lap as he reclines against his headboard, smiling at how rage turns to a gorgeous look of fear when you feel the tip of his cock brush against your glistening entrance. 

It really is admirable how you hopelessly fight against him, against gravity as his hands guide you down and down, despair, pain, and maybe something on the border of pleasure overtaking you as you sink on an enemy’s shaft seemingly forever, the girth alone already stretching you far more than the vibrator had. But it’s the length that tears you apart and Matsukawa is painstakingly meticulous about making sure you swallow him at an agonizingly slow pace, making sure you have no choice but to feel every bit of him that enters you, that drags against your walls, further and further until you swear he’s in your cervix, in your stomach. 

You hate how sensitive his earlier torment has made you, how your pleasure addicted body is already chasing after another orgasm, your pussy fluttering in excitement around the new object filling it, your mouth drooling and unable to close as your mind goes blank from the sensation of being double stuffed again. And you sob in relief when you finally bottom out before you can humiliate yourself by cumming yet again, tensing as you wait for your captor to ruthlessly fuck you right away. 

But nothing happens and you stare in astonishment as Matsukawa merely reaches over to his nightstand to pick up a book, flipping through pages as you sit in his lap. 

“Be a good cock warmer and just stay still and look pretty, okay?” 

Humiliation courses through you at his words, but you obey. Or at least you try your best to. But he’s set you up for failure as the hand not holding his reading material finds its way between your legs, calloused fingertips gently and slowly rubbing against your clit in a way that has your body heating up, has your hips unconsciously grinding as they chase the building inferno inside of you until you’re desperately humping him like a bitch in heat in search of relief. And Matsukawa irritatedly sighs. 

“Aren’t fuck dolls supposed to just stay still and be quiet? If you want to cum that badly and distract me, at least entertain me.” 

You don’t even have the presence of mind to pay him any attention as you keep on bouncing as much as you can with your limited movement, completely ignorant of how he tosses his book to the side and rummages through the opened gift box besides him, a pleased hum escaping him when he pulls out two jingling objects. 

But you do notice the piercing pain from both your nipples as incredible pressure is applied to them and you scream as Matsukawa adjusts the nipple clamps, whimpering when he smacks your breasts and the bells attached to the devices loudly ring. Satisfied with your new decorations, once again he wraps his large hands around your waist and you wail as you’re easily lifted and slammed back down, face burning with shame and embarrassment when you realize you’re being fucked to the rhythm of Jingle Bells, the bells lewdly swinging from your sensitive buds only emphasizing your pathetic position with every shrill chime. 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. You shouldn’t be moaning like a whore. You shouldn’t be on the verge of yet another mind blowing orgasm. And you clench your eyes shut as you try to remember your home, remember your family, remember your friends, anything to distract you from the present. But Matsukawa has other plans for you and pleasure and pain strike you down like a bolt of lightning when he rips the clamps off of you and you let out an animalistic sound of ecstasy as you experience your most intense orgasm yet, one that has you twitching and mindless, slumping against the broad body in front of you in post-coital bliss and exhaustion.  

But you weakly cry out when large hands hold you still as strong hips thrust up hard into you. 

“Your performance was so good that now I’m in the mood.” 

All your pride goes down the drain as you beg and plead for him to let you rest, to stop, making a mess of his shirt and neck as your tears and snot smear across skin and fabric as you exhaustedly bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, crying even harder when fingers trace slow patterns on one ass cheek before slapping you harshly to shut up your whining. 

“A toy’s job is to make its owner feel good. Plus, I’m curious just how durable you are. Clearly if you’re conscious enough to annoy me with all your sniveling, then you’re in good enough shape for me to use some more.” 

You can only brokenly cry as he rails you from below, your torso still propped against him, face still buried in his shoulder, as he manhandles your body, forcefully slamming you down with every thrust, making sure you’re completely filled and unable to escape the delirious fullness and stimulation. And you can’t even breathe, unable to think of anything except for the aching overwhelming feeling bubbling inside of you, threatening to consume you as you’re brought to new highs over and over again.

But your weakened body can only take so much and your squeals trail off into silence, darkness encroaching on your consciousness as your body shuts down from overexertion. It’s too much and you gladly and wearily welcome slumber, can practically taste it on your tongue as a part of you shatters deep inside when you vaguely register the hot thick spurts filling your insides as Matsukawa slams balls deep inside of you one final time. 

Your heavy eyelids flutter shut and you can feel your breathing begin to even out, but panic forces you to stay awake and alert when a low teasing voice murmurs into your ear. 

“You lasted longer than I thought, but I guess you’re officially out of batteries now. Don’t worry. I’ll charge you right back up.”

You don’t know what he has planned for you, but it can’t be anything good and despite how fatigued you are, you thrash and wiggle, doing everything you can to avoid the inevitable despite your still bound position. But it’s useless and you feel so small, so vulnerable as you’re shoved face down in the corner of his room, twisting just enough to see Matsukawa holding the vibrator that had been inside of you earlier and plugging it to an outlet in the wall. And your heart plummets when he gives you a lazy grin as he abruptly shoves the toy inside of you once more. 

“Can’t have it running out of batteries while it keeps you loose and wet for me.”

You kick and scream as he adjusts the lights wrapped around your legs once again, only pausing as he rains down hard and heavy hits to your ass, and if you felt vulnerable before, you feel absolutely pathetic now with a strand of lights keeping both the vibrator and plug firmly inside of you once again and your binds adjusted until you’re in a hog-tie position. But you don’t have time to dwell too much on it, not when both vibrator and plug are suddenly set at their highest settings and you shriek, tears streaming down your face from the onslaught of sensations in your already spent body. 

And you can only feel, feel, and feel, brain dead and numb to anything else happening around you. Even when Matsukawa crouches in front of you, you just dumbly stare at him as drool trickles from your mouth and lewd moans spill from your lips. 

But even in your depraved state, the last dregs of your pride shout at you to do something, anything, as the officer holds a pair of socks and black briefs in front of your face. 

“As beautiful as you sound, I can’t have the entire unit complaining about how loud my little doll is. And toys don’t need to talk or see anyway, so I’m going to wrap you back up until I’m ready to use you again, okay?”

It’s a rhetorical question and before you can even think of retorting, the socks are brutally shoved into your mouth and you gag and choke as long fingers cruelly push and push, practically deep-throating you with the thick fabric, more hot tears cascading down your face as he removes his now saliva coated digits and wipes them clean on your face. 

But as the elastic band of his briefs are pulled over your head and snapped into place right beneath your eyes, rendering your eyesight useless, making the buzzing torment in your lower regions even more prominent, you go completely limp save for the uncontrollable tremors of pleasure, any fight you had in you shattered into a million pieces as you fully register what has happened and what you have been reduced to. 

And Matsukawa takes a moment to appreciate how broken you are already, barely looking human with the glow of the Christmas lights surrounding you and your facial features hidden for the most part by his briefs, looking every bit like a depraved whore, like human furniture, like a lewd object to be used by anyone, anytime. 

But Matsukawa has never been good at sharing his belongings and he plucks a permanent marker from his desk, scribbling dark unmistakable lines across both your ass cheeks, smirking down at his new mark of ownership. 

Issei’s Toy

The words look good on you. His name looks good on you. 

Maybe if you survive his treatment long enough, he’d get it permanently tattooed into your skin. Maybe he’d carve it into your skin. Maybe he’d burn it into your skin…

The possibilities are endless, but for now, he has an appearance to make, sighing tiredly at the responsibilities he has as a senior officer. Curse Oikawa and his insistence that all of the Seijoh Four had to at least show face at the beginning and end of the holiday party. And he rolls his eyes as he straightens out his uniform and throws on his jacket. 

But before he departs, he spares you one more glance, mood instantly lighting up when he sees your wrecked pitiful form laying on his ground like a forgotten toy. 

At least something good came out of this dreadful day, he thinks, as he quietly hums Jingle Bells all the way down to the mess hall. 

[carolmaximoffs]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAIT OMFG i can’t believe so many of the coolest ppl in my life that i know are aquas. ily you’re NINETEEN that’s wild!! you know i love a good roommates or friends w benefits fic gimme gimme gimme 😗💜

a/n: THIS IS SO LATE AGH...here is your long overdue wanda x reader roommates fic, my love! so sorry for the wait, but thank you for your sweet words and your patience <3 @subtlebucky

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

warnings: none really? maybe a curse. references to drinking, partying. jealous! reader. apologies to anyone named jillian, beck, or yasmine. sharing a bed, but not in THAT way. 

WHEN YOU WAKE UP, you smell coffee already brewing. You stretch leisurely as you pad into the main part of your shared apartment, faux-flirtatious smile already gracing your lips.

“Smells good, baby!” You call. The laughter dissipates from your body as you pause in the kitchen doorway. Wanda is indeed sipping coffee in the kitchen, but is also standing between the legs of a tall, rather buff girl you’ve never seen before who’s perched comfortably on your island. “Oh.”

"Jill, this is my roommate, Y/N," Wanda says, perfectly at ease. You wonder if your eye really does twitch at the sight of Wanda's hand on Jill's thigh, but you pray it's just your imagination.

“Hi, uh, I didn’t - we’re not - hi.” Your face burns as you duck past them, reaching up into the cabinet for your mug before realizing it’s missing. You whirl around, about to ask Wanda, when you see it. And Wanda must realize it the same time you do, because she gives you this tight smile and wide eyes. Jill sips idly from your favorite cup, the one with the funny handle and your initial in rainbow gradient. Pietro, Wanda’s brother, had gifted it to you a few Christmas’s back - you know he’d have stopped Jillian from using it. Instead, you fill the most boring mug you and Wanda own - black, with a white outline of Sokovia in a red heart - and send your roommate a sour look. “I’ll just...”

You jerk your head towards the bedrooms, and stalk off. Maybe out of embarrassment, but mostly out of stubbornness, you pretend not to hear Wanda apologizing and making excuses on your behalf as you leave.

.......

Two weeks later, just when things are returning to normal, it happens again.

Well, more or less. It’s significantly darker out now, and this time you’re putting leftover Chinese food in the fridge when the door bursts open. Wanda all but falls into your apartment, a sharp-nosed girl with a deep violet buzzcut hot on her heels. Space Army Cadet and your best friend are hand in hand, the latter barely tossing you a glance as she drags her guest down the hall. And yeah, you’ve seen Wanda bring people home before - even brought a handful of people home yourself. Hell, one of you two’s closest friends was an ex of hers; oddball physics major, Vis, had been Wanda’s lover for the notable first three years of college.

 Lately, though, you’d noticed this...pit in your stomach, carved a little deeper with each new bedmate. Every time you shook it off - it wasn’t any of your business what Wanda did in her free time. Was it because they were women? You catch yourself wondering, but no - you’d never had an issue with that, why would you start now? Shutting the fridge, you shuffle back to your room, turning your TV up to drown out anything from Wanda’s room next door.

The next morning, the eccentric friend is nowhere to be found, but you did find there was a severe lack of alcohol in your coffee as Wanda cheerily filled you in. Buzzcut’s name was Yasmine, she was in Wanda’s European lit. course, and they’d gone out for drinks to celebrate Yasmine nearing the acquirement of her masters. You stare into your cup and hum at all the appropriate points, choosing not to point out that it was only November and nowhere near graduating season. Maybe Yasmine was on the fast track - Wanda always did like the smart ones. 

You become so absorbed in thought you don’t notice at first that your housemate has stopped chittering away. When you look up, it’s to a pouty frown. You shift in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “What?”

“Are you...okay?” Wanda’s frown deepens, brows furrowed as she brushes a stray lock of auburn from her face and folds her arms over her chest. “We...You’ve been a little distant lately, I guess.” 

“I’m fine,” You say breezily, rising to your feet to dump the dregs of your coffee in the sink. Some irritating heartstring twangs at your tone - you hate brushing Wanda off, but what are you supposed to say? Hey, can you stop bringing girls home? I think I’ve caught homophobia. You repress a shudder at the mere thought as you move to sweep past her and get ready for your first class, but a small hand curls around your bicep.

“Just...don’t be a stranger, okay, kedvesem?” Darling. Swallowing the lump in your throat, feeling curiously parched, you can only nod. Wanda lets go, but you can feel her fingerprints burning like a brand even when you’re lying in bed that night.

.....

The holidays go off more or less without a hitch; there’s a very scary hiccup shortly before Christmas when you come home to find Wanda curled into Vision’s side on the couch, the pair of them sharing a blanket. But Wanda looks...as if she’s been crying? Love Actually is playing, Wanda’s go to Christmas comfort movie, and Vision is texting someone called ‘Peter M.’ with an alarming number of heart emojis, so you continue onward. 

Your subconscious must be looking out for you otherwise, because it’s not until New Year’s that you see Wanda with a mystery lover. Actually, you don’t see much of Wanda at all outside of Christmas, and even when you do, it’s always just the two of you at home. Of course, because of this, she insists on dragging you out for a New Year’s party. When her twin, Pietro, gangs up on you via Facetime, you give up arguing and steal a shimmery black slip from Wanda’s closet before flipping them the bird. 

Pietro arrives around 10 to pick the pair of you up, obnoxiously laying on the horn outside of your apartment building. Wanda trips several times as she tries to shove on her other heel and put lipstick on at the same time. Making it out the door is a whole other ordeal - after a short spat about Wanda needing a jacket, an awkward moment when the elevator doors open on some neighbors practicing for midnight, and finding Pietro just about to buzz in to get you, you and Wanda are sliding into the backseat of Pietro’s obnoxiously cramped sports car.

“Ladies, your prince, or princess, awaits!” Pietro announces grandly as you pull up to a shabby loft just a few blocks away. You can hear the music from the street, sighing inwardly as you force yourself to get out of the car. Wanda smooths out her flowy black pants - you keep your eyes trained politely above her shoulders to ignore the fitted, maroon sequined top with the plunging V-neck she’s paired with them. 

“I’m actually meeting someone here,” She says casually to her brother as the three of you make your way in. Pietro waves her off with well-wishes, but throws you a questioning glance. All he gets however is a shrug in reply, this is certainly news to you. He accompanies you to the makeshift bar where you fill a cup with copious amounts of liquor. It usually wasn’t your vice, but the strobe lights alone could be cause to drink. You made a mental note to ask whose idea this party even was in the first place. when you turn around, though, Pietro, too, has slipped off into the crowd.

So you do what one is supposed to do at sweaty, too-loud functions such as this one - push yourself from your comfort zone, get comfortably tipsy while you wedge yourself into the mass of bodies and move with strangers. As mentioned, liquor and strangers have never been favorite pastimes of yours, so once you finish off your second drink (maybe third - you deserved it), you set out searching for Wanda. Her glittery form is tucked into a corner with a small group you don’t recognize, but you definitely note that she’s in the lap of a tall, dark, and handsome type. She spots you before you can get to her, making excited grabby hands as you get closer. 

“Y/N!” The bubbly young woman squeals over the music. She leans forward to be heard better, and you gulp. “This is Beck! And Jade, and Marcie, and you remember Yasmine!” 

You offer only a wave and tight smiles as you, too, lean in further. “I’m gonna get an Uber!”

“What?” Wanda pouts dramatically, Beck snaking an arm around her waist to steady her as she jolts back in disappointment. “It’s not even midnight yet!”

“No, I know, I’m just not really feeling it, I guess!” Yasmine leads over to whisper something to Jade; it’s the furthest thing from your mind as Wanda reaches out to squeeze your hands understandingly. 

“I’ll see you later! Kisses!” You repeat the word weakly before shoving once more through the mass. The sidewalk and cool bite of the outdoors is a welcome respite - your driver doesn’t speak all the way to your apartment, and you give them 5 stars for it. After a cold, quick shower, you curl up in your fuzziest bathrobe with a cup of coffee and flick through Netflix. You know when midnight rolls around when the neighbors upstairs, hosting a party of their own, cheer and shout to each other. It can’t be 20 minutes later that your door is met with a tentative knock.

On the other side is Vision in the most disarray you’ve seen him in - he’s in pajamas, for Pete’s sake, hair and glasses askew over a chunky knit sweater. He’s supporting an equally-bleary but much more drunk Wanda, and passes her to you with a wrinkled nose.

“Y/N!” She crows, dissolving into giggles as you shushed her. “I wondered where you went.” 

“I told you I was coming home, bubs,” You mutter, hugging her back briefly before you notice Vision is still standing in your entryway. “Hey, how about you go get changed, and then I’ll make you some eggs?”

Wanda agrees, talking animatedly even as she walks away. You look back at Vision, smiling wearily. “Thanks for bringing her home safe, Vis. Did you want a cup of coffee, or...?”

“No, thank you,” Vision quips, polite as ever as he tugs his sweater down over his hands. He jerks his dimpled chin the direction Wanda had disappeared in. “Take care of her, please.”

“Of course,” You reply, instantly, brows furrowing. He nods briskly before turning to leave. “Thank you again.”

“Of course. Goodnight.” He’s almost to the elevators when you call a ‘Happy New Year’ after him, and that earns you a smile. “Happy New Year to you as well, Y/N.”

Back inside, you find Wanda spread eagle on her bed in mismatched socks, an old college hoodie, and the same underwear you’re pretty sure she wore to go out tonight. You poke her heel and she makes a frankly unhuman gurgle into the duvet. “How much did you have?”

“Nah a lah,” Is her muffled reply. “We’on dwink anymo’.” 

You realize she’s right, though you figured she was at least taking some of those dates to bars. Maybe not, though - Wanda was always a romantic. You push the mere though away and tug at the arm closest to you. “Yeah, I know. You’ll feel better if you eat something, though.” 

Her protesting grunts are less effective than when she kicks out blindly, narrowly avoiding your hip, and you huff. “Fine, I’ll bring the food to you.”  You make to leave, but she’s captured your wrist now. Wanda turns her head to make powerful puppy eyes at you. “Stay. Sleepy.” 

“I...yeah. Okay.” You were still a little tipsy in your own right - neither of you were college kids anymore, after all. Wanda’s smile was blinding as the pair of you made your way under her numerous layers of blankets. When she turned the lamp off, you wondered if she could hear your heart thundering in the dark.

“Y/N?” She whispers, just when you think she’s fallen asleep. 

“Yes, Wanda?” 

“I love you.”

You hum in acknowledgment, brushing it off as dreaming.

--------

Midday, you’re roused by someone laying across your stomach and shaking you awake. It’s Wanda, long lashes fluttering prettily as she rests her chin on folded elbows. You scrub sleep from your eyes as you croak, “Morning, sunshine.”

“Morning, Y/N.” She says your name with purpose - sort of always has, you realize. You’re running over last night in your head, and like a mind reader, Wanda answers your every question. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Still love you.” Wanda murmurs. You meet her gaze - completely clear, if not a little glazed over with absolute adoration. She pushes up a little, lips hovering over yours. They brush just barely when you speak, sparking like live wires. 

“I love you, too,” You breathe, and finally, finally, she kisses you. 

Things make so, so much more sense then.

[bookwrm99]

Preferred Music- OM! Brothers

Not that anyone asked me, but I was in the mood to write and I’ve gotten back into Obey Me! after a super-long hiatus.. so these are my thoughts on what the brothers listen to in terms of music. I’ve only finished S1, so forgive me if these don’t make sense in context of the later seasons T_T

Lucifer:

It’s established in canon that Lucifer loves listening to classical music and has an extensive record collection- the more cursed the better

I headcanon though that he also likes to listen to big band music, like the Glenn Miller Orchestra

I can imagine him putting one of his vintage Glenn Miller records on his grammy and asking his s/o to dance with him one night if he was feeling especially romantic. The song he’d initiate on would be Twilight Interlude, Moonlight Serenade, or Starlit Hour.

I also headcanon that Lucifer listens to crooners, like Nat King Cole or Frank Sinatra

If MC can play an instrument, especially if it’s the piano, Lucifer might lurk in the hallway for a while if he hears them playing music by composers like Beethoven, Mozart, or Chopin. He doesn’t know how or why, but he thinks their works sound best whenever MC plays them

I think Lucifer’s guilty pleasure is 50′s/60′s decade music, but only listens to them when certain conditions are met: he’s in an exceptionally good mood, his privacy is guaranteed for at least an hour, and it’s just him in his bedroom. He feels that artists like The Beach Boys, Elvis, and The Beatles don’t fit with his polished, high-class image, hence the secrecy around listening to them

You’ll know he trusts you when he allows you into his space while one of these artists’ records is on the gramophone

Doesn’t change MC’s ringtone in his phone, because one: he’s an old man and hardly uses the thing for anything besides communication anyway, and two: he wants to be the only brother who wasn’t prompted by Mammon’s ringtone change

Probably changes their ringtone after a few weeks, when his brothers have forgotten all about it

 Mammon:

The Black Crowes. Next-

It’s canon that Mammon likes R&B music

Mammon strikes me as a classic/90′s alternative rock kind of guy too, though. Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, U2, Deep Purple, The Black Crowes, Pearl Jam- that kind of vibe

If he’s feeling something a little more hard, he’d probably dip into Nirvana, Van Halen, AC/DC, or another band along those lines

“Money” by Pink Floyd is DEFINITELY his ringtone

If he’s trying to really focus to come up with a scheme to make Grimm, or is just in the mood for something really chill, he might pull up a lofi hip hop playlist/station to listen to in the background

If he and MC happen to be chilling in his room, though, he’d probably play whatever they’re into- not because he likes them and wants to learn more about them or anything, noooooo sir, definitely doesn’t want to know their favorite artists so he can maybe take them to a concert one day either

Probably starts listening to MC’s favorite bands and genres too as their relationship develops

I headcanon that as soon as he finds out whatever MC’s favorite song is, he sets it as their ringtone in his phone so he can distinguish them from modeling agencies and his brothers

Leviathan:

It’s canon that Levi LOVES anime music, which like- I 110% subscribe to

I think he’d also really like video game music as well. Especially if it’s a game he loves and their soundtracks are *chef’s kiss*

If the Devildom has an equivalent to K-pop, I could see him being into that too. BTS, EXO, SUPER JUNIOR, Girl’s Generation, and SEVENTEEN all give me Levi vibes

Because he used to play so many different instruments, I also headcanon that sometimes he gets in the mood to listen to some of the music he used to play

He might get started on a classical music kick for a couple hours, then be satisfied for a week or two until the craving comes up again

Like Mammon, he might try listening to MC’s favorite music to get to know them better- but if he’s too averse to it, he’ll just go back to listening to his usual music

As their relationship develops, he might change MC’s ringtone in his phone to the theme of an anime they’ve both watched together and loved, or to the theme of his favorite anime- not to be outdone by Mammon, of course

Satan:

It’s canon that Satan also enjoys classical music, especially symphonies

I headcanon though that Satan might resent this similarity to Lucifer, so listens to classical music in secret- or abstains from it until he cracks and binges for a few hours

I could also see Satan listening to music very loudly in his room to piss Lucifer off if he’s in a particularly vindictive mood, especially if it’s hard rock or metal

Three Days Grace, Shinedown, Breaking Benjamin, Disturbed, The Veer Union, Gojira, Beartooth, Steel Panther- and if he’s really mad at Lu, he’d pull out the stops and listen to some death metal

Lowkey kind of likes some of it, even though he started listening to it exclusively with the intent of making the eldest tear his hair out in frustration

For casual listening, though, I headcanon that he has soft indie playlists and stations that he’s favorited/subscribed to

I could also see him as the type to have a playlist built with all his favorite songs from his favorite Broadway plays (looking at you, Les Misérables and Cats)

When he catches wind that Mammon and Levi changed their ringtones for MC, he didn’t hop on the train to outdo them- he just thought it was a good idea. He changes it to a soft indie song that reminds him of MC in some way, whether the lyrics are explicitly about someone similar to them or the sound of the song gives them MC vibes

Asmodeus:

Asmo listens to healing music in canon

But I also imagine him listening to dance/EDM music, because it gets him pumped up for The Fall and reminds him of the good times he’s had there

I headcanon that Asmo listens to healing music when he’s pampering himself or doing spa sessions with MC, and dance/EDM when he’s getting primped up to go to the club

Asmo is DEFINITELY the type to put soft music on when he’s about to get it on with somebody to set the mood, but it’s not something he listens to on his own- he feels ambivalent about romantic music in general

With MC, though, if their relationship buds into something more than friendship- you can bet your ass that he custom makes the perfect playlist for spicy situations with them, and his opinion on romantic music changes into a more positive one

I also see him listening to Queens like Ariana Grande, Rihanna, Nicki Minaj, Beyoncé- really powerful women vocalists

Asmo might have an easy listening pop playlist/station subscribed on his app of choice, but probably has to be in the mood for it to put it on

Definitely changes MC’s ringtone to something cheeky at first, like “Sexual Healing”, but trades it for a romantic song that reminds him of them later as they get closer

Beelzebub:

The RAD newspaper reports that Beel likes the song in the “Hell’s Burger” commercial

But I headcanon that when the newspaper club asked him that question, he just didn’t know how to respond because he listens to so many different genres, so he blurted out the first thing on his mind (so of course it would be food-related)

Beel doesn’t strike me as the type to like one genre in particular to the exclusion of most others- he seems more like he’d have playlists of all different genres to switch between depending on the situation and his mood

He’d definitely have a workout playlist full of songs to hype him up, like “Eye of the Tiger”, “Welcome to the Jungle”,  “Seven Nation Army”, “Thunder”, etc.

Probably has upwards of thirty playlists/stations he’s subscribed to because of his broad tastes, but the ones I see him frequently playing are pop, indie, alternative, and punk rock

Because he shares a room with Belphie, he’s grown accustomed to listening to chill, soft piano music at night when the both of them are first falling asleep- so much so, he has a hard time falling asleep without it, so he always brings earphones with him when traveling so he can still listen to it

MC’s ringtone in his phone is the “Hell’s Burger” commercial song- the only other contact that shares the ringtone is Belphie. Hearing his favorite song helps him distinguish his favorite people from everyone else calling his phone, even if hearing the song makes him hungry and drool a little bit before he picks up

Belphegor:

Belphie likes chill piano music in canon

Makes sense to me, since he’s sleeping 99.999999% of the time

But I headcanon that he also likes punk rock, like Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, blink-182, Good Charlotte, All Time Low, Panic! At The Disco, Bring Me The Horizon, and more

He only listens to it if he has to stay awake for a long period of time- listening to piano music makes him sleepy, so that’s out of the question, even though he needs music to be able to focus

Belphie is another brother who will stick around if he hears MC playing the piano- he’s less covert about it than the eldest brother, though

He’ll straight up trudge into the music room, sit on the bench with them and lean his head against their shoulder as they play

Hope you weren’t planning on stopping anytime soon, MC

Belphie also seems like the type to have subscriptions to ASMR or soft storytelling podcasts/stations/playlists, for the times he finds he’s having a hard time falling asleep

Like Lucifer, is one of the last to hop on the ringtone train, and honestly didn’t really give a shit about it until he really thought about it. What if MC was in trouble and tried to call him while he was asleep? His normal ringtone wouldn’t wake him up in that scenario, which could end up being really bad

Changes it to something really loud and obnoxious at first, like “What Is Love” (the animal cover)

Eventually changes it to something more romantic as he and MC get closer in their relationship, like “Check Yes, Juliet”

~~

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. <3

BTW, this is the ringtone I HC’d for Belphie lmfao: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mx5-aOGphII&t=53s

It’s my morning alarm and my family hates it, but I’m an extremely heavy sleeper sooooooo guess I’ll just keep being a menace to society

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

A Misplaced Imbalance of Fear

Ao3,   MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Dukexiety, implied/minor Moceit (platonic or romantic)

From the power of my Art and my Shitposts comes This Fanfiction!!!

Warnings: Panic Attacks, Lots of Cursing, descriptions of gore (horror movies, it gets decently explicit so beware that), mild body horror (Remus is here and he Does Things Like That), Heavy Roman angst for a hot minute in the middle, making out (continuing my theme of remus-centric fics getting more ;3). They do some makeup and drink tea, baby. Mentions of picking one’s skin as an Anxious habit, and also ticking. Also stimming!!! nd sides 4 life bb. Also, a very brief alcohol mention (it’s soup).

Word Count: 6,553

God Fucking Fuck, Virgil was going to have a self-care day even if it killed him dead. Everybody else could do whatever overdramatic fuckery they wanted when they were topside, but he was all set down there in the Mindpalace, thank you very much.

Luckily, mercifully, thankfully, the rest of the sides all seemed keen to let Virgil have his space anyway. There wasn’t a thing stopping him from relaxing.

Well, except for himself, of course.

A thrum of condensed stress and fear tugged at Virgil’s abdomen, bubbling its way over his edges. It was equally his own and the others’, probably due to whatever conversation they were caught up in in the external world. He would not relent to the worry, nor was he summoned to help with the situation, but his body refused to stop shaking. Perched on the top of the couch, frantically clicking the buttons on a fidget cube, Virgil tried to watch the gore playing on the TV in a tired effort to calm his nerves.

Horror movies… helped. They were something for his brain to chew on for a while- their over-the-top and ridiculous plots, the obnoxious characters that almost always deserve what’s coming to them, the attention-attaining action- it was all a recipe for Distraction. But they weren’t working by that point, no matter how badly Virgil wanted them to.

And then- possibly because the universe loved to spite Virgil and Virgil specifically- a walking, talking headache flung himself into the common room about as elegantly as a wolfhound with rabies.

“Heyyyy,” Remus crowed as he sprawled himself out on the couch. Anxiety curled his legs closer under his body, unresponsive- he knew full well that any reaction would just be an invitation for trouble from the obnoxious trait. He’d remember what Logan taught them: don’t engage, just brush it all off.

Unfortunately, Remus seemed to be in a stubborn mood.

“Whatcha watching?” 

“Movie,” Virgil grumbled. 

“What movie?”

He eyed the side laying out on the couch below him, narrowing his gaze as threateningly as he could manage. He spat the words through gritted teeth and made it clear he was not having this today.

“It’s called Terrifier.”

Remus perked up at that, and oh God, if he was interested then he’d never go the fuck away.

“What’s it about?”

There wasn’t much Virgil could do but answer in as clipped a tone as he could; things hadn’t gotten too bad, too uncomfortable, yet. Maybe he could redirect Remus’ attention, if he was just boring and unresponsive enough?

“Just a cliche creepy clown flick. Not much to it.”

“Is it gory?” 

Virgil made a vaguely affirmative sound in his throat, gesturing to the screen. In truth, the movie’s impeccable special effects with gore was its main appeal, as the acting and plot was kinda atrocious. Violence was the exact reason he’d chosen to watch this. But he knew saying that wouldn’t help his chances of shaking off Intrusive Thoughts.

Remus looked ready to spout off something explicit, but he went dead quiet as his eyes fell on the scene on the television. Virgil was grateful for small mercies.

It was exactly the kind of thing that the creative trait would watch, after all; a woman getting sawed in half, lengthwise, starting from the- er, the wrong end. Under circumstances of a more typical anxious flare-up, the scene really could have been one of those ‘helpful distractions’. 

These were not normal circumstances.Yeah, this was one of those ‘too passive’ cases, but Virgil didn’t exactly have the energy for anything ‘active’. So, he stubbornly glared at the TV and pretended that his solution was working, because he had no idea what else to do. Perfect plan.

Preoccupied as he was with his internal issues, he very nearly managed to forget about Remus. Until-

“Holy fuck, this is gorgeous, you watch stuff like this?!” The Duke’s eyes were bright, but not with his usual hysteria. They were wide with genuine excitement, shiny and happy. It was- uncanny, that’s probably the word Virgil was looking for. He curled closer in on himself.

“Shouldn’t be that surprising, dude. ‘Scary’ is kind of my thing.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen this one,” the creative side was once again completely enamored by the television screen, “Don’t blood and guts and cool things like that freak you out? They always seem to do the trick when I try to mess with you!” 

“It’s different. The violence in movies, it- it calms me down, I guess. Cause it’s like, I don’t know, detached from reality?”

There was a pause that had Virgil hoping, naively, that Remus had grown bored at his spiel. But he wasn’t moving, he was just staring, gaze switching contemplatively from the screen to Virgil a few times over.

“It doesn’t look like that. If you were any more tense, all your tendons would be snapping like badly-tuned violin strings!” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Virgil pressed his back against the wall and shut his eyes tight. He could still hear- no, feel- Patton and Roman and Thomas arguing, snapping at each other back and forth as the situation escalated.

“Is this about whatever the others are doing? Why don’t you just stop listening to their shitty arguments?”

A harsh laugh escaped Virgil at that, dragging him back down to earth so he could blink his eyes open, glaring at the facet lying beneath him. 

“I can’t just stop, that’s not how I work. I need to keep an ear on them. Who knows what could happen if I didn’t?”

“Well, why don’t you just go talk to them?”

If he wasn’t already frustrated beyond belief, that would’ve fuckin’ done it for him.

“I don’t think I’d be much help. Not right now.”

“Why not?” Remus looked halfway between genuinely curious and mischievous, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view of Anxiety.

“Seriously? Things aren’t exactly, like- normal between all of us.”

“What is normal?” 

Virgil opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came through. As much as it sounded like an offhanded, edgy 13-year-old atheist kind of remark, it was a decent point. Virgil had thought that there was something of a status quo forming between himself and the ‘light sides’, but how long had that even lasted for? Especially compared to the rest of his life? Everything was changing all the time. Was there anything to rely on, or was it just Virgil’s own wishful thinking for what their lives could be? After all, even in ‘peaceful times’, there had been plenty of in-fighting and disagreements and horrible uncomfortable conversations and harsh words and-

“Oh, shut that brain up,” Remus’ sharp voice pulled Virgil from his thoughts, “I know what you meant ‘normal’. You meant the six months when you got to forget about us Scary Monsters, and, DUH! It was probably way simpler for all you diet-soda-no-sugar sluts back then, but that doesn’t mean it was better.”

“Yeah, you would think that things are better now, wouldn’t you?”

Remus fixed Virgil with an unsettling sort of grimace, making the other squirm. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so by any means. 

“I dunno, but what I do know is that things are getting better. They’ll be the best they could be, soon.”

Despite himself, Virgil laughed. It was a faltering, anxious sound, revealing the true fear behind the taunting gesture.

“Really? With everybody at each other’s throats all the time?”

“While that does sound fun,” Remus sat up fully, twisting around to look directly up at Virgil, “I mean after that. After we’re all accepted. It’s inevitable- Inevitable, Anxious Lil’ Barista,” Remus accompanied the referential nickname with a wink. 

Virgil stared at him like he was crazy (well- like- crazier than usual, he guessed?). Remus just threw his head back and laughed before spinning his neck one-hundred and eighty degrees to face the TV while he explained.

“Point is, it’s painfully obvious that everything will sort itself out. It has to, or else the only other option is that Thomas is gonna drive himself insane by trying to suppress parts of himself and end up clawing his own brain out. One of those two things!”

While colorfully phrased, the certainty with which Remus delivered his point had Virgil taken aback. There was no way that Remus could possibly know that, but- in a backwards way it was comforting, how sure he sounded. He didn’t lie, not ever.

Virgil had never thought that Remus would settle for anything less than going out of his way to make others’ lives a hell. But maybe that antagonism wasn’t what exactly motivated the trait’s actions. Maybe it was just an unintentional side effect, akin to what Logan had said when Remus first revealed himself.

The moment of reprieve was over as soon as it began.

“Fuck! He just cut off her tits and wore ‘em, huh?” 

Virgil looked up and, to be fair, that was exactly what had happened on screen. Like he said, this movie wasn’t exactly poetic cinema, but it certainly was something. 

He scooted along the top of the couch, moving just a few feet before dropping down to sit properly beside Remus.

“3/10 drag look at best, really,” Virgil muttered, mostly to himself. He jumped when Remus shrieked with laughter at it, looking absolutely delighted. 

“I didn’t know you made jokes like that, VeeVee!”

Virgil shrugged noncommittally, focusing on the screen and not the facet beside him. Remus’ giggling was loud and distracting, but it wasn’t… unpleasant, unlike his typical villain-cackle was. 

Once Remus had settled down (as much as somebody like him could, anyway), he, too, focused on watching. The quiet was uncomfortable, but it didn’t stretch on for long. There was always something in the movie that The Duke felt the need to comment upon extensively, elaborating and giving details on the gore. Virgil found himself listening to the rants silently, almost enjoying the disruption. It certainly gave his overactive mind something to play around with.

“-skin doesn’t slice as easy as that, trust me-”

Aaaand there it was. Virgil winced, trying very hard not to show that the words had struck a nerve. He liked horror, gore, all that, sure, but there were just some specific things- squicks, you could call them. Remus would obviously use that to his advantage, so the only option was to try very hard to zone out and not look like he was disturbed.

“But even then- Hey, why are you making that face?”

Mission failed.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Remus shifted closer- invasively closer, his gaze studying. 

“You were calming down earlier, what's with the scrunch-nose?”

Virgil stared at his hands, chipping away his black nail polish. Remus was nearly as good at reading lies as Janus, and twice as hard to get rid of.

“It's just- skin, slicing, that stuff just-” he ticked, head spasming sideways briefly at even the thought of that kind of pain.

“Oh,” Remus said plainly, not even a hint of malice or mischief in his tone as he leaned back into his own spot, “Why didn't you just say so? Well, that last exploding head kill is way more interesting anyway, did you see that?”

That was… it? No taunting, no tormenting, he just changed the topic, like that? 

Remus, continuing to be weirdly perceptive, scoffed as though he was reading Virgil’s mind.

“What? Just because I like screwing with you prudes sometimes doesn't mean I want to give you a panic attack. Where's the fun in that?”

Anxiety nodded mutely, bewildered. Remus seemed appeased by that and quickly resumed his running commentary.

And if Virgil eventually decided to take part in the discussion, well, it wasn’t a big deal anyway. Just some polite conversation about bodily mutilation.

 The television darkened as the screen was washed by credits, filling the space where the disfigured face of the main character had been mere moments prior, the result of a pretty predictable twist ending. Virgil stood, arching his back up in a stretch. His arms raised higher, one joint or another crackling at the motion. Fuck, he was sore. How long had he been sitting still?

Remus hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He tapped his claws along the remote, exiting to the homescreen and looking expectantly at Virgil.

“You don't wanna watch anything else?” He asked abruptly, drawing a confused glance from his companion, “This is fun- and they're still arguing up there, so it kinda makes sense to stay, it’s really the best solution if you-”

Virgil huffed a laugh at the rambling. It sounded like some shit he’d say, for crying out loud.

“Dude, chill, I was just gonna make some tea before putting on another movie,” the clear relief that ran across Remus' face- quickly replaced by a wide grin- wasn't anything shy of… sweet. Virgil was sure this day couldn't get any fucking weirder, if he was finding anything endearing about the walking talking dirty joke before him. “Uh, you want anything? Since you're gonna stick around, and all.”

Remus jumped up, following Virgil into the MindPalace’s small kitchen happily. In one smooth motion, he swung up onto the counter and slid down it, seating himself almost on top of the stove.

“No hot leaf soup for me, thanks, but I will take one of those mugs!”

Virgil raised a brow, staring the creative trait down before shrugging. He passed him one of the mugs, a generic and patternless one- so that the other sides probably wouldn't notice its absence. He busied himself by setting up the kettle, trying not to wince at the loud wet crunch that resulted when Remus took a bite of his snack.

“Hey,” Remus said around a mouthful of ceramic chunks, “I know just the movie we should watch next.”

Virgil shifted around the various tea boxes littering the cabinets, searching for something with a kick. He hazarded a glance to Remus, immediately regretting the decision when he saw the blood dribbling down his chin from the cuts marring his lips. Anxiety cringed, turning his head back and grabbing for the first brightly-colored box he saw. It took him a moment to respond.

“Okay… what is it?” 

“It's awful- I mean, really, the acting is unbearable and it’s fucking insane- but it's funny. You like making fun of stuff, right? It's like that, but there's still a ton of agonizing death, which is always a fun bonus.”

“What's it about?” Virgil was hesitantly intrigued, his gaze flicking up from the steadily heating kettle. He wasn't exactly keen on staring down the gory scene of Remus’ mouth, so he settled his focus on the trait’s eyeball brooch. 

“Uhn-uhn! No spoilers, this is one you have to see for yourself. It's funnier that way.”

Virgil made a noncommittal sound, tapping his nails against the counters.

“Nothing too bad happens- not that you can't handle, anyway. No slicing and not many jumpscares.”

He resisted the urge to snap 'how do you know what I can’t handle?' because Remus actively trying to reassure him was. Something. Something that he appreciated, maybe, a little.

“Okay, fine. I didn't have anything else in mind. A ‘So-Bad-It’s-Good’ thing sounds alright.”

The obnoxious gnawing of Remus destroying what was left of his cup suddenly ceased, replaced by a stunned silence. Virgil finally met his eyes (finding that the lacerations around Remus’ mouth were already healing themselves, as if they'd never existed).

“You’re taking my suggestion?”

Virgil cleared his throat, finding himself unable to break the intense eye-contact now that it had been established.

“It's not a big deal or anything, man. Just a movie.” 

Remus nodded enthusiastically, a grin splitting his face ear-to-ear. Very literally. The expression was so unnatural and cartoonish on a human(ish) face, that Virgil couldn't help but be startled into laughter. Remus looked even more delighted at that reaction, leaning forward over the stove. At that point, Virgil very much couldn't suppress the noises, snorts bubbling up from his throat against his will.

“You look-” another bout of chuckling, “-you look ridiculous, Remus.”

“Aw, thank you! I was going for manic, but I'll settle for that, too.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, hunching in on himself to get his breathing back to normal. 

With no warning, Remus lifted himself up onto his knees and craned his body around the vigilant trait, snatching the kettle from the stove and flipping the dial to ‘off’. Instinctively, Anxiety recoiled from the proximity. The tension fell away when he saw that the other was simply pouring the hot water into Virgil’s mug for him.

“Dude, it wasn't whistling yet?”

“I know; it was hissing like it was about to start. You're boring and don't like loud noises, especially when you’re all on edge like this, so,” he set the kettle back down, passing the warm mug to Virgil. 

Virgil stared at him, then at the drink in his hand, then back up at the Duke. He was, for what felt like the millionth time that day, unsure of how to react.

He… really hadn't thought that Remus would pick up on stuff like that. He should probably start getting used to that, maybe.

“I'm-” Virgil dragged his finger up and down the handle of his mug, “I'm not that on edge anymore, actually.”

The look that Remus sent him was indecipherable. 

“C’mon, I’ll queue up that flick I told you about.”

“Yeah,” Virgil let out a deep breath, one he hadn't even known he'd been holding, “Yeah, okay.”

 The floor was bubbling, popping, blistering with red fury. It was lava, sending bright flaming sparks in all directions. Thankfully for Remus and Virgil, sitting close together on the couch and viciously mocking cabin fever, the vicious rage was exclusive to one small circle near the staircase.

Virgil, who had been happily tearing apart the leading guy’s acting, cut himself off abruptly.

“Shit- wait- shit.”

Remus shook himself out of his raucous laughter, looking up in confusion. His eyes finally settled on the crimson patch of carpet, a look of realization crossing them. His voice turned much quieter than what fit him.

“Oh, fuck.”

It was like a volcanic eruption localized entirely within the living room, fire blazing in a tall column. From the emotional display, Roman rose up, face nearly as red as his method of transportation. 

There was that brief moment, right when a stressful situation appeared, of antithetical serenity. Virgil felt his muscles slacken in shock, his long-empty mug falling from his hands and landing on the carpet with a dull thud. A rush of calmness hollowed out his chest, lingering for just a few seconds before being replaced by panic. Tension returned to his limbs mere moments after that, like it was pulling him taut.

Roman wasn't even looking at them- in fact, he hadn't seemed to notice his brother or best friend at all. The fire fell back down, leaving a charred patch of carpet that would likely take a long time to repair itself. The passionate trait growled, a sound that bordered on a scream as he clawed his hands down his face. He stamped his boot sharply against the ground, igniting another small fire with the impact.

“Fuck!” He cried, ever oblivious to his audience. With a hasty wave, the flames flickered and disappeared. Roman glared down at the blackened spot where it had been, winding his arms tightly around himself. He took a few shaky breaths, but if anything he only looked worse off for it.

“Fuck,” this time spoken quieter, but with no less vitriol. An immaculately-manicured hand raised itself to cover his mouth, tightening around his face desperately as tears slipped from his eyes down his fingers. He turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time.

In his wake, as the television had been paused, the only thing that Virgil could hear was buzzing in his skull.

What had happened? What was happening, currently?! Things had gone so wrong and it was all because of Virgil’s negligence- what bad things could have been prevented if he had just been there? Or- or even just listening in! When had he even stopped listening? He was supposed to protect them but he just gave up, just because he ‘couldn't handle it’, and now something was Wrong with Roman and he couldn't even focus on listening to them all now, not like this. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t hear or see anything at all.

A rough, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist. Virgil's shallow breath staggered even more at the feeling, the warbly noise of speech failing to meet his ears. His eyes were closed tight, he realized, stinging with emotion behind his eyelids.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Four seconds, four strikingly gentle presses against the vein of Virgil’s wrist. If it weren't for the slight edge of a claw, he could've confused the motion for one of Patton’s.

The four taps were followed by a brief pause, then a steady round of seven taps. Another pause, and then eight. As Virgil focused, as much as he could anyway, on the presses, the screaming of his mind very gradually abated. First, he pried his eyes open, staring down at the hand around his arm. Watching the tapping, feeling it, was grounding enough for his hearing to return in time. Virgil could hear Remus beside him, breathing deeply as a guide, and copying the exercise became that much easier. In for four, hold  for seven, out for eight. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Remus didn't stop when Virgil did it properly one time over, when he was still shaking and teary. He didn't speak up even when the well behind Anxiety's eyes ran dry, after what had to be a dozen rounds of even breaths. It was only when Virgil finally, hesitantly slipped his wrist out of the other's grasp on his own terms that Remus made any sounds.

“Do you remember when you taught me to do makeup? Late teens, early twenties, around then?”

Talk about a topic shift. Virgil glanced up in confusion.

“I guess so? Wasn't that, like, the only time that we hung out and actually got along?” They’d never exactly been close, Virgil had made sure of that. It was, in retrospect, a regrettable decision on his part.

“Yeah. I was so bad at it, remember?”

“Hell yes, I remember,” Virgil felt a tiny smirk tug his lips at the memory, “You literally never sat still. You were and are the most impatient person I've ever met.”

“I’ve gotten a lot better, Vee.”

Virgil glanced at the bruise-like eyeshadow circling the Duke's eyes, but refrained from saying anything. Knowing him (kind of knowing him? Starting to know him better now? Whatever.) it was most definitely intentionally off-putting, and probably not a good way to judge his actual ability.

“But I’ve seen how you do it, when you really, really try; I think you're still better than me with it, ju-u-ust barely.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Virgil wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but he couldn't find the soft excitement in Remus’ eyes anything other than enticing. The creative side laughed, flapping his hand.

“It would be fun if you did it for me again! Just like old times, ey?”

Virgil stared at him, considering him carefully.

“You want me to do your makeup?” 

“Yes!” Remus leaned forward with his confirmation, but for once that didn't involve violating Virgil’s post-panic attack bubble, “It'll give you something to do with your hands other than peeling back all your skin, at the very least.”

Oh, right. Virgil not-so-subtly lifted his nails from his palms, wincing at the irritated red spots coloring his hands.

Truth be told, the idea wasn't… unappealing. It was an activity well between mindless and active, repetitive and artistic. Plus, he didn't exactly love being alone after attacks, and if anything Remus would be lively company. Company that he sort of, maybe, possibly was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with anyway, unfortunate events notwithstanding.

“Yeah, alright, if you're sure you want-”

“Great! Wait right there, bee-arh-bee,” before the words were even fully out of his mouth, Remus went limp and fell sideways off of the couch, falling right through the floor. 

In his absence, there was a void where his noise had been. Virgil stared at the paused movie scene, picking apart the little details of the frame just to have something to do. His mind drifted off to the state that Roman had been in when he entered. The sight of his friend so furious burned itself on the backs of Virgil’s eyelids. He knew that the anxiety wasn't all his own, either; he could feel it like waves from the other side of the MindPalace, the origin point clearly belonging to Roman.

He should check on him, shouldn't he? Or would that make it worse? Virgil certainly didn't feel like he was in any state to help. But then there was Patton to consider- something must have happened up there. Should he look for him, too?

There was a whoosh.

“I leave you alone for five seconds and you get right back to thinking!” Remus strode across the room, flopping right back onto the couch. Held in his arms was an enormous multi-pocketed bag, items clattering around within at every jostle their owner made.

“Overthinking is literally my whole job, man, this shouldn't surprise you,” Virgil shrugged, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt.

Remus simply rolled his eyes and dropped the makeup case onto Virgil's lap, sitting criss-cross parallel to him, their knees brushing slightly.

Virgil hesitated for a moment, scanning Remus' face, but all the other did was smile and blink (one eye at a time). 

Virgil zipped open the bag, rifling through and finding an overwhelming array of gaudy colors and odd products.

“Was there, like, a 'look' that you want to go for?”

Remus shrugged.

“Just go for it! I’m a blank canvas. The worse, the better.”

Virgil chuckled, picking out a few items to fit a theme he was coming up with and getting right to work.

Though it had been years since they’d last spent time together, it wasn’t awkward. In fact, it felt more comfortable than it had back then.

Remus managed to sit almost perfectly still, chattering the entire time that Virgil worked. Yet again his voice served as something like white-noise, wherein Anxiety only had to contribute whenever he chose. Remus only quieted when Virgil had to hold his face, tipping his head back to properly apply inky-black lipstick. And then, he remained silent for a moment, as they surveyed each other. 

Virgil had cleared his throat, warmth prickling at his ears, and the ceaseless rambling resumed after that.

In what felt like hours and no time at all, Virgil was finally satisfied with his work.

“Alright, you're all done,” he capped the bottle of mascara in his hand, rifling through Remus' bag for a mirror, “Wanna see?” 

Just as he felt the unmistakable cool surface of glass on his fingertips, Remus grabbed his wrist in both hands. 

“What-?”

“Not so fast! Now it's my turn,” he announced, his zealous eyes even more prominent on his face thanks to the thick wings of eyeliner around them. 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Virgil looked from the assortment of garish colors that he'd mostly stayed away from in the makeup case, and then back up at the Duke.

“Usually: yes. But I am dead serious right now, Vee.”

Remus looked pleading, legitimately pouting. 

Virgil huffed. The side had gone out of his way to help him, when he really didn't have to, so…

“You're not going to just use this as an excuse to draw all over my face, are you?”

“I mean, no promises that I'll be able to restrain myself, but! Gimme a chance anyway, I can make you even hotter than you already are! Plus, we'll match then.”

“... Fine. Just- nothing too crazy, alright?”

“Again, no promises.”

Virgil groaned, but he still passed the bag to Remus.

 “Holy shit...”

Remus leaned over the basin of the bathroom sink, drumming his hands on the counter excitedly. He was starry-eyed as he observed the dark, dramatic colors covering his face: metallic emerald-green eyeshadow, excessively long lashes, and winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut a bitch. His lips were black as void, but shimmered like glitter. Everything about the look was dangerous, confrontational, and grim. 

“This is more out there than I’d usually wear, but. Yeah, holy shit.”

Virgil's expression, despite his best efforts, was equally awed as he peered into the mirror. The color around his eyes was mismatched; a lime to moss green gradient over his purple eye, lavender to royal violet over his green one- both colors contrasted by smudged black eyeliner under his eye. His signature Racoon Look had been maintained in that aspect, but it was even more exaggerated. In addition to that, Remus had taken to drawing various little symbols along Virgil's cheekbones, including things like upside-down crosses. Finally, there was the fuchsia lip-gloss, stark against Virgil’s paler-than-normal foundation. 

“It’s okay, I guess,” Virgil breathed reverently. 

“I love it!” Remus crowed, clambering onto the counter just to get a better look at himself. Somehow, he'd already managed to smudge the hell out of his eyeshadow, but it kinda… worked for him, if Virgil was being honest.

“Vee, we have got to do this more often!”

Virgil looked from his reflection to Remus', startled in a way he didn't entirely understand. The intrusive facet met his gaze through the mirror, the smile sliding off his face when Virgil didn’t respond to him.

“Right, Raggedy-Anx? It doesn't have to be this, specifically, if you really don't want to. We could just watch movies together, that's fine. Or we could do anything at all! Right?”

Virgil was still silent, lost in his mind. Remus fell from a kneeling position to sitting with his legs hanging off the counter, turning his back to the mirror.

“Was this a one-time thing? That's alright, too, if you just needed help calming down. I'm not as good as the others, I know, but if they're ever too busy again, you'll think of me when you need help, at least. Right?”

Finally, Virgil snapped out of his daze when he heard the panicked edge to Remus’ voice, feeling his anxiety as Virgil noticed the wild look that had completely erased his giddiness. It was a look that Virgil had seen plenty of times before, when Remus had been ignored far too long and was right about to start ripping things to shreds for some scraps of attention. Only then did Virgil fully recognize what the expression actually meant; the deep, terrified need that swirled behind the look, unsure of how to ask for what it really wanted after so many denials of that very want. 

“Shit, sorry,” Virgil moved to stand in front of him, eye-level to Remus even though he was elevated by the counter, “Hey, it's alright, Re, everything's fine.”

Remus was still trying very determinedly to smile.

“I know! Hell, I’m not the anxious one, I'm the one that makes people anxious,” his laugh sounded like it came from a throat full of broken glass, “I just- I liked this, ya know?”

“I know,” Virgil leaned forward, coaxing Remus' arms away from where he'd wrapped them around himself, “I like this, too.”

Remus let Virgil hold onto him, surprised into something like obedience.

“You? What?”

“I like this,” it wasn't as though Virgil was expecting to hug Remus, but it seemed to have happened on its own as they moved. It was leagues nicer than he could have imagined, despite the smell. “I like you…-r company.”

“That's weird,” Remus' legs curled around Virgil’s waist. Virgil rested his hands on Remus’ hips. He listened as the creative trait's breathing evened out, vaguely aware that the situation was similar to the one just an hour or so before. Except, the roles had been reversed, of course.

“I missed you. I know I never told you, but I missed you.”

Virgil felt guilt, hot and molten, dripping down his throat. He couldn't lie; he hadn't missed Remus when he left. But now he did, in a roundabout sort of way. He missed what could have been, all of the possible understanding and friendship and likely more that he could have had for so long with Remus- all of which he'd let slip by for years. Due to just writing the artist off as disgusting, or unnecessary. 

And perhaps some of that misunderstanding was Remus' fault as well, but Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to hold it against him.

“You don't have to anymore. Miss me, I mean. I'm- fuck, I'm so sorry.”

“Me too,” Remus said, pulling back to settle Virgil with a happy-yet-tearfilled gaze.

“Aw, hey,” he tightened his grip at Remus' hips, smirking, “You're gonna fuck up all my hard work on that eyeliner, Re.”

Remus laughed, loud and shrieky and him, smiling unnaturally and brilliantly wide once again. Virgil's breath caught in his throat- not for the first time that day, he found himself trapped up in that wild, energetic face.

Before Virgil was entirely aware of what he was doing, he was leaning forward, pulling Remus in by the waist. When the cackling finally stopped short, so did he, both much too far and far too close to the Duke. 

He didn't have the chance to explain himself, or apologize, or anything, because soon enough understanding flashed in Remus' eyes.

“Oh, oh yes, oh hell fucking yes.” 

Remus didn’t wait a second longer before closing the distance and smashing his lips against Virgil’s. A startled sound bubbled up in his throat, dying quickly as he acclimated to what was happening. Just as he did, he was reciprocating the kiss. 

Their teeth clashed together uncomfortably, and Virgil was hyper-aware of the threat both his own and Remus’ fangs posed if they weren’t careful, making it far from the perfect first kiss. But he wouldn’t have wanted that anyway, nor would he have expected it. It was, somehow, better. 

Remus' hand dragged down Virgil's back, his fingers fitting onto the notches of the facet’s spine. Virgil shivered, pressing himself flush against the counter (and Remus) and digging his thumbs into the trait’s hips. The motion earned him a beautiful whine from the other as the kiss deepened, growing less awkward and more heated by the second.

Virgil was unaware of how much time was passing, but when they finally parted, both were short of breath and significantly disheveled. Remus had his back pressed up against the mirror, his hair even fuzzier than its usual state, expression dazed and face flushed. From what Virgil could make out in his own reflection, he wasn't much better off. 

Just as soon as they'd separated, Remus' hand was on his face, his thumb dragging just under Anxiety's lip.

“You fucked up your lipstick,” he teased.

“So did you,” Virgil answered with a smirk, leaning into the touch. 

“I guess we'll have to fix it later.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus wriggled himself out of his pinned position, twisting around Virgil. He managed to situate himself and drop down from the bathroom counter, his manner suggestive, “Because all I wanna do right now is finish watching Cabin Fever with my new goth boyfriend and makeout during the boring parts.”

“Boyfriend?” Virgil ignored the jolt of warmth he felt at that, determined to stay nonchalant as he (subtly (not subtly)) slipped his hand into Remus’.

“You disagree?” 

Virgil pretended to think it over, leading them to the door and taking his time to click it open. 

“Nah, I don’t disagree,” he said finally, “I think I like the sound of that, actuall- yyyy.”

Virgil stopped short in the open doorway, voice dragging out in his shock. Behind him, he could feel Remus trying to crane around him to see what was happening, but Virgil didn’t move to accommodate him. Well, more accurately, he felt like he couldn’t really move at all, too busy parsing out the scene in front of him.

In the corner of the sectional- sharing a cushion- Janus and Patton sat, the former holding aloft a glass of wine, the latter snacking on a muffin. They sat with their legs tangled together, and had seemed to be engrossed with each other before the interruption. Both had paused mid-conversation to gawk in Virgil's direction, twin deer-in-headlights expressions on their faces. 

“What-” Virgil began, bewildered.

“The fuck?” Remus finished, pushing his way out of the bathroom.

Janus struggled to sit up into a more dignified position and take the reigns of the conversation. It didn't take him long to overcome his surprise at the interruption, his surveying gaze sweeping over the other two Dark Sides contemplatively. The look made Virgil’s skin crawl. 

“You know, we- well, we could ask you two-” he gestured at their interlocked hands, “-just the same question, couldn't we?” 

For a moment, there was silence. Virgil looked from Patton to Janus. Janus looked from Virgil to Remus. Patton looked at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Remus looked at everyone and broke the silence.

“You didn't see us,” he announced, sidestepping his way to the staircase and dragging Virgil along with him, “And we didn't see you.” 

Janus squinted, tipped his head, and nodded conspiratorially. 

“Deal.”

With that little grant, Virgil and Remus darted up the stairs and into the sanctuary of the dimly lit hallway as quickly as they could. Luckily for them, Roman was probably either in a deep depression sleep or far into the imagination by now, and Logan Did Not Engage with Interpersonal Drama if he could help it. 

There was a second for appreciating the absurdity of the situation (and catching their breath), before either spoke to each other.

“I’ve got a huge flat screen,” Remus piped up at last, jerking his thumb in the direction of his room. 

“Any of us can conjure literally anything we want at any time, so I'm not sure what's impressive about that.”

Remus scowled, albeit playfully.

“Hush! Come watch someone slowly be consumed by a parasite with me!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and let Remus drag him off, his complaints accompanied by absolutely no efforts to avoid the situation. 

Things were weird, there was no denying that. Maybe they'd end up being that way for a while yet, and Virgil knew he had a lot of news to catch up on, but he found that thoughts like that were way back in his mind. Whatever happened, he reasoned, he would still have this comfort. The arms of someone he was finally coming to know wrapped tight around him, playing up his back, a mouth trailing kisses on his neck as he half-watched horror films. Yes, things would be difficult with the others, but it was secondary.

There was someone on his side now. Solidly, unarguably there for him. With him. And that made it all feel a little bit easier.

[atlascas]

DEANCAS FIC REC

(last updated 7/1)

FINALLY. this is like. just a place for me to rec and write excessively abt the fics i've been reading lately. it won't be organized but it WILL be very earnest and i'll keep it updated as i find/remember more. also i have obnoxiously high standards when it comes to fic so these ARE the cream of the crop, if u will. the god tier. the s tier. 

very loosely organized into "newer fic" and "classics." these are subjective categories. do what you will

✨ = new fic on the list

💖 = in my brain rent free!

CURRENTLY READING

these are the fics that i’m currently reading! may or may not get recced. usually i read the first couple paragraphs/lines and if i like the writing it gets bookmarked and put on this list.

lazarus needs a robe of scarlet thread by herrosesneverfall, 90k, canonverse au. dean starts getting stigmata. when i was getting back into spn there were a LOT of religious fics flying around bc that was the Hot Topic of Discussion. this was one of them

Three weeks ago, Dean woke up in a pine box. He thought dealing with the nightmares was going to be the most difficult part of his new life after Hell, but at least they were something he could understand. Something he could deal with. Something he deserved.

Then he began having agonizing visions of crucifixion. Wounds appeared on his body out of nowhere. Wounds that refused to heal and coated his skin with the sickly sweet smell of roses.

Stigmata are said to be the marks of saints, but Dean is not a saint and the wounds are only the beginning.

kingdom come by ahurston, 8.7k, coda to 15x18. cas gets to go home. im gathering all the s15 fix-its to my heart and holding them close

Cas wakes up on the coast of Maine. He makes his way home.

hunger by ellispark, 10.8k, s13 au. dean grieves cas, post s12 finale. perfect writing perfect awful heartwrenching characterization so far on dean’s end especially towards jack. nuanced emotional writing

Dean takes his meal and throws it away, plate and all. He's not hungry. How can he even begin to eat, knowing what he kept from Cas — what he kept from both of them?

They could have had something, and now all Dean has is this gaping, empty hole in his stomach, in his chest, and he has to learn to breathe and eat and move around it.

the law of equivalent exchange by awed_frog, 60.8k, canonverse. cas loving dean in all permutations of humanity, throughout time.

“And what’s the point of it?”

“Of love? There isn’t one. Loving is its own purpose.”

NEWER FIC

“newer” just means “i discovered it in 2020/2021 after coming back to spn fandom” so it very well could have been published before 2015 but really who’s checking. not me that’s for sure.

💖 so says the sword by komodobits, 85k, s4 au. cas guards the michael sword in the beautiful room. this is easily the MOST obvious rec on this entire list but it was the first fic i read when i got back into spn this year and jesus christ it set the bar sky fucking high. the way they create a coherent mythology out of the mess that is spn canon is incredible.

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’

Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

assimilation by komodobits, 5.6k, coda to 12x01. mary meets dean and cas and they go to find sam. such good character studies of all three of them. the best mary pov fic i’ve read

Mary always thought you were supposed to be able to tell. That you could just look at someone and know they were – you know. One of that sort. It’s not supposed to happen to her son.

cuckoo and nest by komodobits, 10k, ambiguously canonverse. dean and cas navigate relationship anxiety. cute, in character, and their relationship is realistic and the conflict well-written and emotionally nuanced and really really really good. 

For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental.

It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless.

💖 one white lie by komodobits, 11k, au. cas panics when trying to ask dean out and has to fake being a jehovah’s witness. it’s adorable and hilarious and it’s been ages since i actually got butterflies at a kiss in a fic but this did it. it did it. it felt like someone swaddled my soul in a cashmere blanket and kissed me on the forehead

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

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

a crash course in someone else’s history by annie d (scaramouche), 11.5k, set during s6. cas comes to as his s4 self without any memories of the past two years and has to figure out what the fuck is going on. it’s kind of like so says the sword. you’ll know it when you get to it.

Castiel is captured inside a trapping circle of holy oil set by Dean and Sam Winchester. The brothers call him "Cas", claiming that he has amnesia and that he is obligated to help them take down Crowley to atone for his betrayal of them. It's the strangest story Castiel's ever heard, and one he doesn't have time for because he's only just raised Dean from Hell and has work to get back to.

💖 cas and dean’s adventures in gardening by ahurston, 19k, post-canon au. a series featuring dean and cas living in the bunker, human. cas is very into plants. i read this yesterday actually and it made me smile SO much it’s just so lovely and sweet. i’m also a sucker for any fic where cas has a garden. he deserves a fucking garden okay

In this post-God world, everything is different. A little quieter, a little softer. Cas grows a garden, Dean cooks, and they take care of each other.

tall grass by aeli_kindara, 57k, post-s12. dean and cas live in the bunker on their own, and cas grows a garden. i did say i love fics where cas has a garden. plus domesticity, plus some good case fic, PLUS dean and cas’ relationship is so gentle and good

“I think we should have a garden,” Cas says.

Dean looks up from his beer. He hasn’t had that much to drink, but Cas still has a vague look of unreality about him, a splash of living color that doesn’t fit in the bunker’s echoing stillness. Dean didn’t hear him coming. A lot of the time, Cas is so unobtrusive it feels like Dean has the bunker to himself, with Sam away.

Dean shakes his head to clear it. “A — garden?” he repeats.

in a week by renrub, 2.3k, post 15x18. cas is in the empty. dean saves him. this is genuinely the best “dean pulls cas out of the empty” fic i’ve read so far like conceptually this entire thing just fucks. when cas is cycling through the barn scene. god. SO well written

Castiel is outside a barn covered in sigils. He frowns. This isn’t right. This has never been something he repented for.

i won’t even wish for snow by annie d (scaramouche), 5.6k, college au. cas goes to the winchesters’ for christmas. honestly scaramouche fics belong in the classics section bc she’s like an og deancas writer but whatever. mistletoe! banter! good in-character au! this fic’s got it all

It’s the third year that Castiel’s spending Christmas with his best friend’s family, and he expects it to be much like the previous two. Then mistletoe happens.

convenient husbands by annie d (scaramouche), 39k, canonverse au. cas is a phoenix, dean is a hunter. they get married and have a sick psychic bond. unexpectedly fluffy considering how the fic starts and i love the banter so much and dean/cas’ relationship gets fleshed out and organically developed it’s very cute

"It's only temporary, right?" Dean says. "Just until you're healed up, and then we'll never have to see each other again. So what do you say, Castiel, do you want to marry me or not?"

cinderwings by bendingsignpost, 181k, cinderella au. cas goes to a masquerade ball to save his people from an eternity trapped in a void. he meets prince dean. i can’t tell u how much this fic drew me in - thru good worldbuilding, but mostly thru cas’ social awkwardness. like it works PERFECTLY to his advantage in this fic and reading how expertly he manipulates social situations w/o any fucking idea what he’s doing is both hilarious and inspiring

Under the cover of a masquerade ball, Castiel has five nights to recover the key to his people's freedom. The world has changed greatly in the six centuries since their banishment into the void, but the task isn't impossible. Unfortunately for Castiel, this is going to involve talking to people - especially the Knight Prince who has taken an interest in Castiel and his "costume" wings.

as the crow flies by bendingsignpost, 3.4k, au. dean and cas go on a roadtrip. cas has wings! it’s so dreamlike and meandering and the slowburn is so good. honestly it reminds me of stevebucky/stevesam post tws era roadtrip fics if ur hip LMAO

Cross country road trips with Cas are the best.

long-term relationship by bendingsignpost, 2.7k, au. dean and cas have a Serious Conversation about their relationship.

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

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

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

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers, 7k, ambiguously canonverse. dean is trans. dean and cas are fucking and lowkey hiding it from sam. perfect character study PERFECT trans dean fic it’s so fucking well-written 

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

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

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

💖 the love story of the runner up by margo_kim, 4.7k, ambiguously canonverse. cas tries dating other men. bear with me here. this is an outside pov fic from an oc named miguel who is WONDERFULLY characterized and very endearing like i find outsider/oc pov to be on Thin Fucking Ice bc it always ends up as fandom/author self-insert but miguel is his OWN MAN. he gets his own lil arc and everything. dean and cas are concentrated perfectly crystallized versions of themselves and the little glimpses we get of them are amazing. ALSO i wrote like 9k of an spn vent fic (basically the same premise but w an oc named marcus) back in like. freshman yr of hs. so when i first opened this fic i was like what the fuck someone’s been in my google docs. very weird experience 10/10 regardless

“So you saw a white man in a trench coat pop out in an alley,” Paul says, “and you thought, what, ‘I want to see where this is going’?”

“If you get hung up on details like that,” Miguel says, “it will take a very long time to get through this story.”

For a very weird era in his life, Miguel dates an angel who is in love with another man.

sunshine by northernsparrow, 8k, set during s13. dean and cas have a long conversation about their Profound Bond. the description left me off-balance (it really. really truly says “dean is straight in this fic” like okay bro WEIRD hill to die on) but it pulled through w the relationship study and reassurance and snuggles. a sweet fic

One-shot with a single conversation between Dean and Castiel, set in a late-S13-ish world. Gabriel, Cas, Sam & Dean are all living in the bunker together, Gabe's been cracking certain jokes, Sam's found a certain book, Cas is injured and isn’t healing... and it's all making Dean wonder if his angel friend might have some sort of a "bond" with... somebody? Whatever that means.

Maybe it's time for a talk.

💖 still life by catchclaw, 16.5k, post-s8. cas, newly human, goes to live on his own for a while. he and dean maintain a relationship thru the phone. this is LITERALLY the only first person fic i fucking respect okay like i was skeptical! i really was! but the pov is PERFECT and also my man kevin tran is in this fic and i love him and miss him very much. oh and cas going off to explore humanity on his own..............perfect arc. very much in character we love that for him

Dean'd always thought that falling in love was a capital letter kind of thing, an Important Event you carved into the calendar of your life and never, ever forgot. But with he and Cas, it wasn't that simple.

it’s mostly cowardice, and bad timing by ferritin4, 1.6k, pre-canon. actually this one is just a dean study it’s not deancas but i spent an entire night looking for it and i need someone else to read it too. dean is smart!!! SAY THAT

Dean gets his GED.

a list of reasons the bunker shouldn’t get a sofa by lizbobjones, 5.6k, set during s12. sam and dean and mary and cas haul a sofa back to the bunker. cute domesticity and fluff

Let me count the ways that this is a terrible idea.

no kingdom to come by domesticadventures, 16.8k, canonverse. dean and cas deal with being stuck in quarantine in different ways. this is the one and only quarantine fic i’ve read and it’s really good lmao. dean and cas’ relationship is so organic and tentative in this one

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

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

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

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

till the juice runs by deathbanjo, 8.4k, canonverse. it’s like dean’s being cursed to have bad hookups with men. SUCH a funny fic and the deancas tension is so simple and sweet and GOOD. plus cas is so enjoyably characterized here he’s so human and worn in and experienced in his own unique way. perfect use of rowena too

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

turn of the year by kototyph, 3.9k, canonverse au. sam and dean get stuck out in the middle of nowhere on the winter solstice. what i wouldn’t give for a full 80k of this verse actually. also i went on a kototyph binge after reading shut up put your money where your mouth is and they have a SOLID spn repertoire

Fifteen minutes later, Dean gets back in the car with empty hands and ice in his fucking eyebrows. “Get the map out,” he says through chattering teeth, sticking numb fingers under his arms.

Sam holds up the battered 1995 Rand MacNally they keep in the side pocket, turned to a page of uninterrupted green. “We’re going to die,” he announces.

💖 bullets in the gun by kototyph, 4.9k, canonverse au. cas is a cop (i know. still) who gets kidnapped by dean in an unfortunate turn of events. GOD this fic is SO FUNNY. cas’ canny and strategic escape attempts render him a very active VERY funny pov character plus the hate attraction to dean is PERFECTLY WRITTEN VERY BELIEVABLE. dean’s kindness also shines thru even as he literally holds cas hostage like!!!! PERFECT characterization. both of them are so LIKABLE here. if you read anything on this list read this

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m going to need to borrow your car.”

as you will by kototyph, 1.8k, victorian au. cas endures a proposal mishap. it’s cute it’s funny it’s sweet!

"No?" Castiel echoes, dumbly.

and if i was looking too? by kototyph, 2.6k, au. cas is undercover where dean works. this fic is just so cute like. bird angels.................

There are some things Castiel hasn't told Dean, and there are some things he doesn't need to.

the most important thing by northernsparrow, 94.5k, s10 au. amnesiac cas raising claire until he comes across someone familiar. claire is so well characterized here i really loved her arc thruout this fic. she just wants her dad back and u can’t even blame her the author rlly does an amazing job creating realistic and heartbreaking motivations for her. oh and dean and cas (esp cas characterization!) are sweet in this but honestly the highlight IS claire for me

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car? (Canon-divergent from S10E11, when we first met Claire again and Dean was still struggling with the Mark of Cain. Takes places several months later).

there’s only one sure thing that i know by blinkiesays, 20.3k, post-s5. dean goes to help cas out in ohio and they end up building a home together. i love the writing it’s rlly funny and sweet.

Dean doesn't even get halfway through explaining before Bobby starts laughing. When he lets himself think about it for more than five seconds, Dean can almost see Bobby's point: he's faced down demons, witches, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, angels, and Satan himself and now he's been defeated by the God damn Midwest.

💖 to an angel, love and worship are the same thing by geminisage, 10.3k, post s15 fix it. dean grieves cas - and then cas gets brought back back from the empty. i didn’t have this in my bookmarks so i MISSED it the first time around on this list but this was another one of the fics i came back to spn fandom to. it’s so fucking unique?? it actually reads like spn like i think fic tends to soften dean/cas up and makes them more emotional + emotionally intelligent than is ever shown in the show. here the dialogue/characterization adheres RIGOROUSLY to their communication in canon in that dean’s not overtly emotional, and cas is very reserved. they have to negotiate their relationship exactly like they would in the show. it’s all clipped conversation and anger and hurt and (warning btw) LOTS of internalized homophobia on dean’s end but it’s SO worth it. dean navigating his [GESTURES VAGUELY] everything is compellingly written, emotionally true, and PERFECTLY characterized. cas characterization also amazing like u rlly feel the quiet devoted bittersweet love. ok this was long clearly it’s a good fic go read it now

Just as Dean knew they would, the weeks do stretch into months, and then into a year. Grief never gets easier, Dean knows from experience, but you do get better at it. After all, you can get used to anything.

the violin house by teh_helenables, 8.5k, post-s5. dean and cas build a home after stull. so slow and lovely and sweet and gentle. i need to put this here so that i don’t forget it tbh. it’s very much dean as a war wife cas as the husband away on the front

The Apple Pie Life is a slow process, but Dean and Cas are getting there—until Cas is called for battle and Dean is forced to wait.

💖 muscle memory by komodobits, 18.9k, au. amnesiac cas wakes up three years in the future with dean in his kitchen. komodobits DOES NOT FUCKING MISS!!! i CRIED at the end of this i had NO INTENTION OF CRYING the rest of the fic isn’t even SAD i just had to sit there at the end of it w tears dribbling down my face. INSANE work of art

Dear Castiel,

Hello – it’s Castiel. This must all seem very confusing, and I’m sorry for that. Dean says to tell you that this isn’t some kind of ‘time-travel stunt’, although I’m sure that won’t be your first thought. I know it wasn’t mine. I’ve told Dean to leave now, as this is my notebook and I want everything in it to come from me – or rather, from you. I know you think it's the fifteenth of January, 2010, but it isn't. At the time of my writing this, the date is the fourth of October, 2013. Dean Winchester is your boyfriend of a year and a half, and you no longer work at the library, and in early 2010 you were hit by a car and hospitalised. I’m sorry.

a.k.a the 50 First Dates Dean/Cas AU where Castiel wakes up on a day just like any other, except that three years have passed without his knowing, and Dean Winchester is in the kitchen wanting to marry him.

don’t forget the experience points by annie d (scaramouche), 10.8k, au. cas is sam’s work friend, and he and dean get to know each other. genuinely an adorable fic. i adore cas’ characterization in this it’s snarky AND awkward AND confident in a way that i absolutely believe he would be if he had 30 yrs of human life under his belt

It's because Dean was an awesome brother than he took such an interest in Sam's new friend. No, really. What happened afterwards was mostly an accident.

actus fidei by manic_intent, 5.6k, canonverse au. dean’s a priest, cas is still his angel. i was HOOKED from the description alone like That’s Everything I Love in One Sentence. Cool!!!!!!!!!!!!

On the very first time that Castiel manifests in front of Father Dean Winchester, he gets as far as "Rejoice, for you are blessed-" before Dean shoots him with a salt-loaded shotgun.

not with a bang but a yelp by strange_estrangement, 1.4k, canonverse. team free will leave yelp reviews. this isn’t d/c actually it’s just a crack-ish fic but the formatting is cool and the references are SO funny and so well done

What happens when you visit dozens and dozens of motels every year? You leave Yelp reviews.

the courtship of combat by bendingsignpost, 18.2k, medieval a/b/o au. cas is politically coerced into fighting in a courtship melee for prince dean's hand, and he teams up with two unexpected allies to do it. I KNOW HOW THE ABO THING SOUNDS but i swear it's done well - it's by bendingsignpost so ofc he puts his own spin on the premise. im absurdly into it. PLUS jack is in it!!!!!!! it's technically an unfinished series but the first part is so good just on its own

When pressed upon to mate for a political alliance, Commander Castiel dares to refuse his king. As “I do not wish to mate at all” is clearly the wrong thing to say, Castiel takes the other path and lies. “You must know my affections lie elsewhere, my king.”

King Michael studies Castiel’s face long and hard. Then, with a nod, he snaps his fingers, pointing to Castiel. “The Winchester omega.”

“Yes,” Castiel says with no real recollection of who that is.

The ruse of an unavailable omega works well enough, right up until that omega is no longer unavailable. Then, with what seems to be his entire nation cheering him on toward victory, Castiel must enter the melee to win his mate. Backed by allies, training, and his own natural talents, the only question is how well he can contrive to fail.

four letter word for intercourse by bendingsignpost, 194.7k, au. dean calls a sex hotline. OH BOY solid characterization excellent plot/premise like bendingsignpost is so good at turning absurd premises into realistic, believable fiction. also sex hotline fic is usually a BIG turn-off bc of the power dynamics/one-sidedness of a relationship based on sex work but. BUT. bendingsignpost does it well! it’s not weird at ALL i started reading and was immediately reassured abt its intentions and its plot direction

As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties.

What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right?

(It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.)

the tunnel of love by xylodemon, 21.4k, post-canon. case fic! dean and cas have to kiss on a loveboat to solve a case >:)

"We might," Cas starts slowly, pausing like he's choosing his words. "We might have to kiss."

Dean just stares at him.

when you have a future. by firebog, 17.6k, post-s8. dean and sam and cas learning to be human post-apocalypse. reminds me of robotmango’s writing! it’s kind of eccentric and very very sweet and funny.

Sam closes Hell. Castiel closes Heaven. The heroes save the day. There's no Heaven or Hell waiting to cause the next big disaster. There's no more end of the world. There's only a squirmy feeling in his chest that feels a lot like freedom. So, now what?

(Things I promise you in this fic: dog poetry, rabbits, and fluff)

six inch heels by alitneroon, 2.3k, canonverse. dean does drag! excellent fucking character study. prose is fantastic

Dean does drag on a whim, and ends up in way over his head.

sharing is caring by gateskeeper, 2.5k, canonverse. five times dean and cas shared something and one time they didn’t. look. sometimes u just need some saccharine tropey fluff. it’s VERY well written

Sam knows that Dean and Cas have shared a lot together, but ever since Cas became human permanently, it seems like they've been sharing a lot more. 

Or: five times Dean and Cas shared something special and one time Dean refused to.

💖 empty spaces by schmerzerling, 60k, au. dean has to take care of his dying father, and takes up running to cope. that’s just the beginning. HEAVY trigger warnings for ED (specifically anorexia) and suicidal thoughts. there is a happy ending, but dean has to fight to make it there. god. okay. this is a dark fic. it’s also one of the most well-characterized fics i’ve ever read. dean’s spiral is excruciatingly accurate and written with the kind of wry compassion that comes from either extensive research or extensive experience. it’s also completely immersed in dean’s perspective - dean’s relationship w his dad, dean’s relationship w food scarcity, etc. it’s incredible. it’s kinda scary. it’s deeply sad. cas is explicitly autistic and it’s ALSO incredibly accurate and loving, and makes cas so true to his canon self. ugh. and i burst into TEARS at some of the accompanying art, which is so sparse and lonely and beautiful. 100/10 experience one of the best fics i’ve read this year

Dean is fine. The way he sees it, things are simple. He had a house and a family and food in his stomach, and now he doesn't. And yeah, that's a downer, but he's not going to let that stop him from being fine, because he's in control of the situation. He definitely doesn't need anyone to save him. And it's not like the weird guy with the nice butt from down the road is the knight-in-shining-armor type, anyway.

broken road by thegeminisage, 109.6k, 14x13 au. dean makes a wish and gets more than he bargained for. a lot of “john comes back” fics are kinda short on nuance, which this author has talked about a lot - and oh MAN does this fic deliver on nuance. john’s abuse is absolutely present, but his pov makes him a complex character instead of a flat caricature for dean to reject. and the way this fic resolves really makes it clear that the priority is dean’s emotional well-being over all else!!! this isn’t about dean taking the path fandom thinks he should take w his abuser (killing john, punching john in the face, etc), this is abt dean coming to terms w his abuse and finding his own emotionally satisfying way of resolving it. also dean and cas are in an established relationship and it’s very slow and sweet.

A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean's head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.

It's been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they're living with angels. John doesn't know angels are real, he doesn't know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn't know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean's plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.

Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can't answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end. 

home is not a place by imogenbynight, 6.8k, post-s11. human cas struggles with belonging, and dean struggles with their relationship. this reads a lot like komodobits’ cuckoo and nest, but it’s its own sweet little thing. they watch movies!!! very cute 

In which Dean is the oblivious one for a change.

love: a retrospective by xylodemon, 40.7k, post-s12. dean tries to deal w cas’ absence after s12 and reflects on their relationship thru the years. this was written before s13 aired, so - no spoilers - but jack plays a different role than he ends up playing in canon. it’s kinda fun seeing ppl’s theories pre-s13 tbh. makes me VERY glad that they took jack in the direction they did in show. anyway this is THEE definitive “they’ve been fucking all along” fic

Pretending Cas is just his friend has been the only thing keeping Dean's head on straight for years. He never realized how much doing that depended on him making himself scarce in the morning ─ not until Cas came back and moved into the bunker.

✨💖 if it all fell to pieces tomorrow by spocklee, 37k, post-s15 fix-it. cas gets broken out of the empty - and he immediately makes a break for it. new fave fix-it!!!! the writing is so understated and so straightforward - SO in character for cas tbh - that every single emotional beat feels like a PUNCH. and there are so many amazing character moments it made my chest seize the fuck up!!!!! perfect characterization perfect relationship moments perfect cas/jack parenting moments. the yearning over the phone is OFF THE CHARTS and spocklee makes the most of that tension!!!! PLUS old canon characters get to make fun appearances!!!!! i cannot recommend this shit enough

After the Empty, Cas has to spend some time alone. Orpheus tries to convince Eurydice over the phone that it’s okay to turn around now.

✨ before and after breakfast by spocklee, 10.5k, post-canon. dean and sam and cas tackle a monster of the week case with unexpected consequences. perfect pov perfect relationship moments SUCH GOOD TENSION. again this writing style just lets the tension dial up to 1000% every word is meaningful and it makes my chest hurt!!! spocklee SHOULD have blown up during the spn renaissance and i STAND by that

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

CLASSICS

isn't it cool how every person has diff fics they consider "classics?" anyway these are required fucking reading. if u've been around these will prob be old news.

💖 asunder by rageprufrock, 23k, au. dean and cas go to sam's wedding. i reread this once a year like a religious ritual.

Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. (Matthew 19:6)

💖 the girlfriend experience by rageprufrock, 15k, set during s5. dean teaches cas how to be human. mostly the sex part. literally the gold fucking standard of s4-5 era deancas fic and for deancas fic in general, personally

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

okay, cupid. by orange_crushed, 4.5k, au. dean tries to sign up for an ok cupid profile and has a revelation. as soon as i put this entry down i realized this entire fic rec was an exercise in futility, because if i could i'd literally just rec everything orange_crushed/robotmango has ever written. still one of THEE best authors in this fandom. go read all her fics. i’ll put the highlights here

"The dating thing?" Dean frowns. "Online dating is for weirdos. Robots. Dudes hanging out in their basements."

"You hang out in your basement."

"I have an air hockey table down there,” Dean says, icily.

💖 pwp: pie without plot by orange_crushed and majorenglishesquire, 82k, post-s8. sam and dean and cas quit hunting for a little bit to open a bakery. this is my comfort fic. i love it so so much.

he is in the kitchen with flour on his hands and an apron and there is flour on his forehead and cas leans across the counter and wipes it off with his thumb and dean says "thank you" and cas says "you’re welcome" very seriously and later dean makes apple turnovers and he only ruins them a little and sam realizes it’s not a real hunt like four days into it and he lets dean stay undercover for like a week and a half or longer maybe way longer because he is such a good everything

💖 la cucina by orange_crushed, 4k, post-s8. dean gets into cooking for a newly human cas. it's so gentle and loving and kind and makes me tear up every time. YES food is a comfort item and expression of love for dean. no i don't want to talk about it

Dean turns around and Castiel is picking through the jars, turning them over carefully to read the labels, totally engrossed. Dean watches him.

"Is there," Dean says, "uh, anything in there you like?" Castiel looks up at him and then back at the apples, sitting in a basket on the counter in their golden skins, ripe and pretty. Castiel smiles up at Dean.

"I don’t know yet," he says.

today, your barista verse by orange_crushed, 13.6k, coffeeshop au. a series of short sweet lovely fics where cas is a barista and dean is a smitten customer. literally the only coffeeshop au i respect

"Is that-"

"My number," says Dean, because he's a fucking champion, he's cool, he's collected, he's Captain Smooth of the USS Smoothtania, that's right. He is definitely not leaning against the counter for moral support. Cas doesn't looked seduced or impressed, though. He does not look like a dude who just met Captain Smooth and wants to ride the loveboat. He looks puzzled.

fata morgana. by orange_crushed, 6.6k, post-s9. dean is the king of hell. bela and cas team up to find him. bela pov. yeah you fucking heard that right BELA POV. BELA AND CAS!!!!!!!!!! makes me lose my mind i love everyone in this stupid desolate fucking hell wasteland.

The endless asphalt and broken road, the empty land and piles of human garbage, the unwanted ends of life, the cracked toys and broken screens and burning cars and gravel. Dean Winchester is the king of hell.

"Oh," says Bela.

That changes certain things.

💖 gran fury. by orange_crushed, 5k, pacific rim au. sam and cas pair up in a last ditch mission to save the world. permanently damaged me at age 15 and i've never recovered. major fucking angst warning.

They sit in silence and Castiel passes him the bottle. There’s not much left to say. Sam takes a gulp and it burns going down, like the cheap shit it is. He holds the bottle up against the light. He can see the Fury through it, distorted like a funhouse mirror. She’s a tomb but Sam loves her. Loves everything that’s left.

"To the end of the world," he says.

"To the end of the world," says Castiel.

💖 shut up (put your money where your mouth is) by kototyph, 24k, au. dean and cas get drunk married in vegas. dean renovates cas' house. this fic is SO MUCH BETTER than i remembered/expected and the entire series is fucking adorable go read it RIGHT now

Dean's done some pretty stupid things, but getting drunk-hitched in Vegas to a colleague he barely knows might just take the cake. His surprise husband, Castiel, is a little weird but likable despite that, and Dean figures they’ll go back to Boston, get a quiet annulment, and go their separate ways. Six weeks later, he’s still married to one of the strangest, most genuine and definitely most dangerously lov-- likable guys he's ever known. Dean doesn't know why or really even how it’s happening, but it’s getting harder and harder to remember that he has divorce papers to file.

not part of the plan by annie d (scaramouche), 338k, arranged marriage au. cas is slated to marry a noble from the winchester house. things spiral out of control. if you’re looking for an extensive well-developed political au, this is fucking it. i love reading about political machinations so this was FASCINATING to me. 

Castiel's spent most of his adult life keeping his head down and staying out of trouble. This is a deliberate choice on his part, because as a cousin of the King, he'd rather stay unimportant and forgotten. This changes abruptly when King Michael decides that he has a better use for Castiel: he is to be wed to a noble member of the neighboring Republic, as part of an agreement between their two nations.

Castiel knows he has to obey, but that doesn't mean he won't rebel in what small ways he can. Unexpectedly, his actions end up having far-reaching consequences.

💖 all things shining by askance and standbyme, 142k, au. sam and dean and cas go on a hunt that's not really a hunt, and against all odds good things happen. it's beautifully written and has scenes that literally make my heart leap out of my chest with joy and awe it's just WONDERFUL it's a wonderful fic. incredible mythology too omg i found that the authors actually created the myth the entire story is based on - like they don’t pull a random one from history, they made one up THEMSELVES. they even self-published it on amazon if ur curious

Something in the world is waking up.

It isn’t long before it’s brought to the attention of the Winchesters and Castiel: miracles are spreading across the country, the paranormal seems to be shrinking back on itself—and it all has something to do with the missing prayer book of a traveling preacher who died over a century ago.

Dean is convinced it’s all the lead-up to another Apocalypse; Sam and Castiel aren’t so sure. Regardless, it sends them out on a less-than-typical road-trip, following the Mississippi and remnants of a very old story that seems increasingly to call to them. And along the way the trio learn much more about themselves—and the consequences and origins of love—than they’d ever have anticipated.

💖 broadway musical by griftings, 12.4k, crack. romcom where cas is supposed to play matchmaker to dean and jo and well. you know. it actually made me cackle out loud when i read it again so you know it's still good. absolutely one of the funniest fics i’ve read

This is the day that marked the Holy and Blessed Union of Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle.

The merging of prominent bloodlines is always a grand occurrence, but breeding pedigree hunter families like Winchester and Harvelle is something to be rejoiced. It is also something to be meticulously planned, which thankfully the Host is very good at.

Or, the romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general.

the five people you meet in heaven by chevrolangels, 22k, ambiguously canonverse. dean dies and goes to heaven and meets five people from his life. NOT a post-finale fic but still horrifically sad. i remember sobbing hysterically when i first read this so

Heaven is white.

Well. Isn’t that fucking stereotypical.

Dean isn’t really sure how he got here. Or even why he’s here. And hell, for all the times the Winchesters have died, he thinks he ought to know the drill by now. But what he doesn’t know is when most folks go, they find something different.

There’s a system God put in place. That when you’re gone (for good), there are a couple things you gotta do first. There are five people waiting for you.

They are the five people you meet in heaven.

any port in a storm by microcomets, 53k, post-s8. dean and cas go on a haunted cruise for a case. you know what happens next. also the art is by anobviousaside and it's gorgeous

The angels have fallen, leaving Castiel graceless and Dean with, well, more of other people’s problems. When a string of couples goes missing on the east coast, Dean and Cas decide to investigate—and find themselves trapped and hunted on a couples’ counseling cruise. Although battling monsters at sea is dangerous enough, sorting through emotional baggage proves to be far more deadly. (And, in which Cas embarks to find his missing grace and Dean is put out. Not necessarily in that order.)

a turn of the earth by microcomets, 95k, pre-canon au. cas is on the run from the empty and crash lands in dean's life. at one point he punches john in the face. a fucking beautifully written character study of pre-canon dean, honestly.

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

Frigging fantastic.

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

unfinished duet by microcomets, 5.8k, canonverse. sam observes dean and cas throughout the years. i remember this breaking my heart back in 2013!

Sam watches Dean and Cas over the years and notices a few things. (Or, Dean and Cas unscripted.)

💖 ergative/absolutive by glassedplanets, 8k, college au. dean and cas are best friends who meet in an astronomy class. i'm never not thinking about this fic it's so sweet and the friends to lovers is so soft and believable

He really shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this about his best friend who literally just broke up with his girlfriend, but he knows he’ll blame it on sleepiness in the morning. He always does.

a certain light by flightagain, 24k, au. cas works at the gas n sip. dean is a customer. this author’s writing style is so lonely and heavy but it’s very lovely

Castiel works at the Gas-n-Sip. There are half-price nachos and flickering lights, there are office-workers and werewolves stopping by for snacks. Dean is a frequent customer, and his office might be haunted.

the one thing you can’t lose by majorenglishesquire, 5k, ambiguously canonverse. dean can pull cas around and it’s adorable. character study-ish. very sweet.

You know what I like a lot? The thought that Dean can just tug Cas anywhere at any time and Cas, who can lift tons without effort, who can demolish things with the light of his grace, who has battled and gone to war, has defended and broken, will just let Dean do it.

brother lover by twentysomething, 4k, set during s4/s5. dean’s jealous of sam and cas’ budding relationship. this fic is so tropey but it does it well and it’s funny as fuck

However- and it doesn't happen a lot- they have to invoke 'I saw her first.’

his fucking kids by 8sword, 3k, canonverse au. dean and cas raise claire and emma together. yes, claire novak. yes, emma of 7x13 spice girls fame. this was the first kidfic i read for spn i think. obvs written before jack or claire actually came back into the picture but it was the TEMPLATE of kidfic for me for ages

Jesus, the school should just have a parking spot labeled, “Reserved for the Novak-Winchesters,” because Dean’s getting sick of having to cruise around the parking lot looking for a spot every time he gets a call from the principal about Emma.

💖 what has eight tentacles and isn’t allowed to eat pie? by annie d (scaramouche), 16k, post s8. dean gets turned into an octopus. another fic that was SO MUCH BETTER than i remembered i fucking love when that happens. it isn’t even about dean being an OCTOPUS like NO. NOT EVEN. it’s ACTUALLY about the bunker and building a home and a community and a family and about PHYSICAL COMFORT and you can actually feel the world expanding at the end of this fic like a gusty sigh of relief it’s SO WONDERFUL. kevin is in this fic. ellie is too and i had to look her up but THIS is her!!!! danay garcia u were too hot to stay on this show but i love you and miss u

Dean watched an anime porn about this once, but real life turns out to be way less interesting.

Or, the one where Dean gets turned into an octopus.

💖 a beginner’s guide to communing with the dead by suspiciousflashlight, 77k, canonverse au. dean is a cop who summons a powerful entity to help him solve a cold case. oh my god i can’t believe i didn’t put this on here i love this one so much. the writing bowls me over it’s so confident in its worldbuilding like you’re IMMEDIATELY plunged into dean’s pov (FLAWLESSLY executed throughout the fic btw) and you just learn about the world as you go!! and it’s such a fascinating world!!! i love the magic i love the typical bureaucratic red tape procedures i love normalizing the supernatural. i ESPECIALLY love monsters as normal people in a society. at one point there’s this exchange

“Monsters,” says Cas finally. “Beyond the Wall there are monsters.” “You mean, like, vampires and djinn and stuff?” Cas shakes his head. “Those aren’t monsters, those are just people.”

those lines have stayed with me for years. i think about them every time i rewatch an episode of spn.

Maybe it's the little girl whose disappearance turned into a murder, and whose murder turned into a cold case, and who has now apparently decided to move in with him. Maybe it's the unacceptable hole left in his life when his dumb best friend and partner in (the prevention of) crime decided to go and get himself killed. Maybe it's his brother, whose high-profile career and fantastic girlfriend and first-child-on-the-way are steadily leaving Dean in the dust. Pick one. Pick all of them. The why doesn't matter so much as the what, and the what is this: Dean is pretty sure he's going completely, certifiably insane. Sure, he hasn't started wearing all his clothes inside out, and he still showers on a regular basis (anyways, that's not crazy, just a little eccentric); but there's no getting around the fact that he just threw away his life, his career, and his reputation by dragging out his mom's old necromancy book and summoning a Class A Forbidden Entity to his attic. A cranky one, too. With horrendous bed-head.

dean’s list by almaasi, 3k, canonverse. dean makes a list. short and sweet. i read this so much in 2015 that it literally got engraved into my brain line by line and rereading it caused synapses to fire that havent felt anything in years

Dean writes out a list of men he would go gay for. Sam has a suggestion to make.

💖 the path of fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, post-s8. dean and cas open a charming bed and breakfast in vermont. no, literally. another CLASSIC. i think about the food in this fic all the time...........maple bacon baked french toast......the cinnamon rolls.....it literally sounds so good

After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years.

long nights in cold months by pyrebi, 2.3k, au. dean’s an insomniac and cas works at walmart. i forgot i had this fic ALSO basically memorized. holy shit. pineapple in the fruit aisle.....................anyway it’s short and sweet and the “plot” resolves in such a satisfying way

When you're an insomniac, you get used to the "what the hell are you doing up, man?" look. Dean just hopes the guy who's stocking the shelves will stop giving it to him long enough to help him find some damn pineapple.

incredibly single & ready to mingle by imogenbynight, 3.6k, au. dean and cas meet on facebook. short cute au!!!!!!

Sam uses Facebook like the social media junkie he is. He's befriended literally every person he's ever had a conversation with since he got an account, which means that approximately—Dean checks—eight hours ago, he shared this horrible photo with something in the vicinity of nine hundred people. The caption below the picture reads “incredibly single & ready to mingle ;)” and roughly half of them have liked it.

Dean has never been so embarrassed in his life.

💖 unknown quantities by xylodemon, 8.5k, post-s8. after a post-case tryst, dean has to figure out his and cas’ relationship. human cas fics hold a special place in my heart. funny AND good dean pov AND a misunderstanding that i actually think works!!!!!

No one ever tells Dean anything.

(or: Dean Winchester and the not-relationship crisis of 2014)

[justjessame]

Glorious, Before the Burden - The Comfort ~ 4

Knowing that I could at least push past the terrible spell that caused Loki to see a nightmare when I visited him gave me some peace to rest, my first night alone in London.  Building courage to meet Thor’s love, Doctor Jane Foster who I researched thoroughly before leaving my small cottage and with Michael beside me helping me sort through what was most helpful and what was least likely to aid me in my introduction to this Midgardian genius.  Over a light dinner, during a phone conversation with Michael, I told him of my visit with Loki in his cell.  

“And he saw YOU?” Michael asked for the third time, almost crowing with both happiness and a heavy dose of his confidence in my powers and person.  “I’m not surprised,” I shook my head and took in the view from my window, the night was falling and I knew that sleep would be calling to me soon enough.  “Now you just have to meet up with Dr. Foster and off you go to Asgard.”

Laughter erupted from me at how simple he made the endeavor sound.  “Yes, JUST.”  Listening as he told me the idle gossip of the tiny village I’d left mere hours before, I felt a sort of homesickness and wondered how long I’d feel longing for the small Midgardian spot that had adopted me.  Promising to call before I disappeared back to my true home, I tried to tell Michael how much he meant to me, but he wouldn’t hear it. 

“Don’t go saying goodbye yet, Sigyn.” He grumbled.  “Not until you’re on your way out.”  And with a huff he said goodnight.  

I suppose, with the change of scenery and the nerves that came with what I was about to do, I expected sleep to be more difficult to grasp hold of - like a teasing serpent with its tail flickering away as a fat fisted toddler who is forever curious and yearning to touch, it would flick away at the last moment, saving itself from the yanking of that grasp - but no, somehow it wasn’t hard to find and take hold of.  

Slipping into a bed as decadent as the one that Loki had carried me to, pressing me into and kissing me breathless because I couldn’t stand to release him once he first allowed me a sample of his flavor, sleep greeted me as a dear friend, cradling me as gently as my husband had and held me tight until morning woke me with the first slanting light through the softness of the fogging haze that I’d grown to love during my first visit so very long ago.  

As I slept, I dreamt and as I dreamt it was of a time and place I did not know.  Yet I knew my companions - two of them, at least.  Loki, not MY Loki, but the one who wore the same strange outfit that Agent Mobius M Mobius had worn when he unceremoniously showed up on my doorstep with his contingent of TVA Minutemen asking for inside information on Loki - MY Loki - hoping to find a way to take down Sylvie.  Who, I was no longer startled to see standing beside THIS Loki, not even seeing their hands clasped together gave me a moment’s pause.  There was something about the two of them - these two pieces of my heart, brought together through means that I had no forewarning or knowledge of - that made some mad sort of sense.  They stood amidst a clouded world, on the other side I could make out something of the horns I knew quite well from my time at Loki’s side, but they were worn by beings that I had no sense of familiarity with - a child, an elder, one who looked far more like Thor than Loki, and - brought up a touch short - was that a lizard?  

Refocusing on the two I held far more dear, Loki and Sylvie, standing before a building that made my heart pound faster - a flash of warmth running through me - like when I felt the urge to run into one of the gardens, or join my husband in bed - the feeling of home.  How strange, since I’d never seen this dark stone beast before, rising as if it grew unbidden from the ground.  Gold veins, like blood creeping through it, I could hardly pay attention to Loki and Sylvie as they bucked up courage to knock on the door, so entranced was I with how familiar it felt - even the landscape, barren though it was - called to me like a siren song.  Odd.

The door opened, and I blinked, had I missed them finally knocking?  Had I missed a greeting being called out?  

Following them through the archway, I barely glanced at the glowing clock - her obnoxious taunting voice - obviously known to both Sylvie and Loki, but of no consequence to me.  Instead I walked around the three of them, ignoring their conversation and searching for any reason why I would feel as if I knew this place, this building.  Reaching out with a shaking hand, knowing that I shouldn’t be able to TOUCH anything in a dream, I was shocked to find that I could touch - and the obsidian wall felt WARM, throbbing as if it had a heartbeat all its own.  

I almost missed the clock disappearing.  Nearly missed the appearance of a new being.  Except I wouldn’t have missed him - couldn’t have if I tried.  It was as if he screamed my name as loudly as Loki once said I forced him from the garden when I wanted to go inside.  Turning I saw HIM.  Smiling from behind a newly opened door, lounging as comfortably and unconcerned as any all powerful being would in the face of TWO such as Loki and Sylvie - and while they dared to make attempts on his life, he winked at ME.  

I woke up as the sun broke through the curtains and the haze, my eyes flashing open faster than they ever had before.  I knew what the clock being had called him.  I knew what he’d thought to call himself.  Names have power - any witch worth her salt would tell you that.  And I knew his name as surely as I knew my own.  I just didn’t know why his name mattered to ME.  

I got ready with all the care that I would have on my first trip to Midgard had I taken it alone.  Carefully tucking my long hair away, magic making it far easier to conceal and seem shorter and fashionable in the way the women of the realm seemed to enjoy it, I sighed as I pulled on a pair of the tight jeans and long sweater over it.  Adding the long jacket and scarf, I hoped that I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb as I made contact with Thor’s lady love.  And I hoped like hell that I wasn’t too late.  

Finding Dr. Foster wasn’t difficult.  She’d relocated to London because her mother was living in the city.  She’d taken up online dating, which Michael had given me a shifty look about - laughingly offering to create a profile for me, should I think to give dating a Midgardian a chance.  A single look was all it took to nip that horrendous idea in the bud.  Her mentor was having a difficult go of getting back to normal after having an encounter with Loki, as seen on EVERY news channel known to man, and so - off I went to find Jane where a subtle disturbance in what Midardians knew to be science and gravity was taking place.  Thank goodness for children and their inability to keep things quiet.  

While I couldn’t disappear as Loki could, hiding when you’re petite isn’t incredibly difficult, but seeing Jane Foster arrive alongside her intern Darcy - another piece of the information Michael had helped me come across - had given me pause.  Two Midgardians, slightly more difficult to approach than one, and Darcy had more street smarts from what I’d learned in my research.  

Jane disappeared and I sighed.  Damn it.  While the future is set, I had hoped to head off the Aether.  Perhaps if I could have contained it, NOT in the Midgardian scientist, that would have made Frigga’s death slightly less - 

She reappeared and I missed my opportunity to meet her before Thor made his arrival, but he spotted me as she spotted him -

“Sigyn?” His eyes widened, and Jane’s eyes narrowed at me.  “Sister? How are you alive?”  Now Jane looked LESS inclined to rip my hair out, so that was better, perhaps.  “Jane, this is -” he pulled her closer, smiling down at BOTH of us.  “Sigyn, I thought you dead - they said you -”

Shifting off the reunion and questions.  “Yes, I know, Thor.”  I smiled at Jane.  “This is Jane?”  She was staring down at me with so many questions in her eyes that I wanted to scream.  “I think we should probably -”

So shocked by Thor’s arrival before I could greet Jane, before I could get things in hand, I hadn’t really taken stock of the storm he’d brought along with him.  

“This you?”  Darcy had joined us, pointing up at the downpour and Thor stopped it.  “Who’re you?”  She was staring at me with a challenge in her eyes.  

“Sigyn, Loki’s wife.”  Rip it off like a bandage, that had been Michael’s advice.  Her eyes went wide.  “Oh dear, I think we’re about to have company.”  Police officers were converging.  

They were coming to ask uncomfortable questions, but Thor was in no mood to allow that, and he grabbed onto Jane and nodded to me.  With a smile, and extreme focus on my part - cloaking myself so Heimdall wouldn’t know WHO else Thor was bringing at least I hoped - I took hold of his arm and off we went.  

Jane was not well, how could she be - the Aether was inside of her.  Upon our arrival in Asgard, Heimdall, looking for all the world as if he was unsurprised by my survival and arrival, Jane was taken to the healing chambers.  I, however, was rushed to Frigga - Heimdall telling me she requested my presence as soon as I arrived.  

“There you are,” she pulled me into her arms and sighed with such relief that I nearly sobbed.  “We have very little time, Sigyn.”  When she pulled away, her eyes searching mine I saw how glassy hers were.  “Did you think only you saw it coming?”  

“I’d hoped,” my eyes were burning, my heart giving such pain that I felt as though I’d been stabbed.  “I’ve only just come home, selfishly I want more time.”  She laughed and held my hands in hers.  “Why didn’t you tell me what I am?”

“If I had,” she sat, pulling me down beside her.  “If I’d given you all the answers, then you’d have simply had them -” she brushed my hair from my face.  “You still have much to learn, I’m afraid.  You know what, but not WHO -”  I didn’t understand and she knew it.  “You will, I swear.”  

“Jane holds the Aether,” shaking my head, my eyes closed.  “I’d hoped to get there fast enough -”

“To what, my daughter?”  She was smiling when I opened my eyes.  “Take it upon yourself?”  Sighing she shook her head.  “You have far more burdens to bear than you need, I think that one is one too many.”  Pulling me close, she tucked my head under her chin.  “I always wanted a daughter, did I ever tell you that?”  I hummed.  “You were everything I could have wanted in one, and so much more, Sigyn.”  

I didn’t have enough time with her, not alone.  I never had a chance to go to Loki’s cell and prepare him for what was coming.  I didn’t see Odin beforehand.  The only peace I made was with Frigga, and maybe that was all I was supposed to be allotted.  

I was with her and Jane when the monsters came knocking.  I held her as she took her final breath.  And in it, as I cradled her head and told her I forgave her everything, that I loved her and she was my mother, that she told me another piece of my own puzzle.  She gave me another name for He Who Remains - at least where I was concerned.  And as my tears burned down my cheeks, threatening to break my heart and leave me scarred for my grief of losing the only mother I felt like I’d ever truly known - I looked up to see HIM - Odin, staring down at me in open mouthed surprise.  

I suppose there was at least ONE person in all of Asgard that hadn’t been told of my arrival - our King. 

[imaginejamesandsirius]

James having hanahaki disease and people thinking it's because of lily while it's of course sirius? Angst with a happy ending, please and thank you!! You're the best!

James had exactly zero intention of ever telling anyone. Unfortunately, that wasn't a very realistic goal, and he should've realised that Sirius was going to find out before anyone else. Of everyone he didn't want to know, Sirius was at the top of the list. 

Listen, if James wanted for Sirius to know that he was hopelessly in love with him, he would've told him himself. When he coughed up the first rose petal, he'd looked at it and sighed. He knew that Hanahaki wasn't just about being in love with someone that didn't love you back, it was about being in love with someone that didn't love you back and never would or could. Your heart felt like it was dying, and your lungs decided to make that a real possibility. Hanahaki was terminal unless you managed to fall out of love, or the object of your affection managed to fall in love with you before you ran out of time. Naturally, both of those options were rare, so James wasn't going to hold his breath. Also because holding his breath was difficult now, but that was hardly the point. Also also, there were some people who thought that there was a less severe strain of Hanahaki, and if you could be cured, that's what the version you had. It didn't really matter because no one had been able to prove that theory true. 

James was busy puking rose petalled bullshit into the toilet, and Sirius came in. There wasn't a way of covering, and besides, his ability to lie to Sirius wasn't the greatest. 

Sirius knelt on the stone next to him and rubbed his back until it passed. "Have you told her?" he asked, passing James a summoned glass of water. 

"Told who?" It couldn't be Mum, because Sirius would've said 'your parents' and not just Mum; he was awfully fond of Dad, it's not as if he would leave him out. 

"Lily," Sirius said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

"Why the bloody hell would I tell Lily?" 

Sirius sighed. Like he thought that James was being ridiculous. Like he thought James was being obtuse on purpose. "I know that she's been pretty resistant to your- ahem- methods of wooing her, but maybe if you ask her on a date like a sodding normal person, she'll say yes." He didn't much sound like he believed it, but James appreciated the misguided attempt all the same. 

"Yeah no, I'm not doing that." 

"Oh come on, what's the worst that could happen? She tells you no? That doesn't put you in a worse spot than before. Just think about it, yeah Prongs? I kinda like you when you're breathing fine, I don't want to have to get used to a new version of you." 

"Bugger off." 

"Aw, you know I'm taking the piss," Sirius said, ruffling James's hair. "You couldn't get rid of me if you tried." He pressed a kiss on top of James's head, probably trying to be obnoxious and failing miserably. 

"Yeah," James muttered, leaning against him. "Thank Merlin, right?" 

*

So obviously Sirius didn't tell anyone, but James wasn't subtle, and he liked complaining about too-red flowers more than he cared about keeping his mouth shut. Which meant that James was complaining to Sirius about how he didn't even like roses, and couldn't they be carnations or something? At least then, he could wash them off and make a bouquet or summat. Naturally, people overheard him one of the times that he was saying that, and the news spread from one person to another until all of Hogwarts knew. 

"I can't believe you didn't tell us!" Peter said, looking betrayed. "We're your best mates, and we had to hear about it from Benjy!" 

"How is Benjy? I haven't seen him since he got out of the Hospital Wing," James said. 

"That is so not the point, you arse." A beat. "He's fine, lots of colour in his cheeks when he'd telling us all the gossip we missed out on." 

Remus glanced at James up from where he'd been concentrated drawing a crow. "You alright?" 

James shrugged. "I've had better days." 

Remus nodded, then went back to his drawing. 

"You are no help at all," Peter said, glaring at him. 

"Mmhmm." 

"My point is, you should've told someone." 

"Sirius knew." 

"Padfoot knows everything about you, he doesn't count." 

"I resent that, Wormtail," Sirius said, throwing his bag down and taking a seat on the armchair with James. There wasn't really room for two people on it, so he was mostly sitting on James's lap. "I might know everything about James, but that doesn't mean I don't count as him telling someone. He told me, I am a separate person, therefore, he told someone. Why do you care so much anyways?" 

"Because if he'd told us-- all of us-- we would've been able to help him plan how to ask out Lily in a way she might say yes to! Now that everyone knows, she'll only say yes because she feels guilty, and that's not going to help him any." 

"Do you realise that I can still hear you, Wormy?" James said. His voice was muffled because instead of resituating when Sirius sat down, he decided to stay where he was and just plant his face into Sirius's back. It smelled better this way. 

"What, you're going to start caring when we talk about how hopeless your crush is? You're sick, but you're not dying. When you start dying from it, then I'll stop." 

"Shouldn't you stop before he starts dying?" Sirius asked. 

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be. Prongs, honestly, why didn't you tell us?" 

"Because it's embarrassing, and not in a way I can laugh about. Just bloody sucks and keeps on sucking until one day I'll stop being able to breathe." 

"Stop being so buggering depressing," Sirius said, and James could hear the frown in his voice. "It won't come to that." 

Remus looked up again. "You sound awfully certain of that. What are you thinking?" 

"Well-" Sirius leaned forward, dislodging James's rather comfortable position "-one of the ways to cure it is to get rid of the feelings, right? So all we have to do is get James to fall in love with someone else, and he's good." 

"You make it sound like him falling in love with someone else is a given. Wouldn't they have to love him to or else it would just come back?" 

"Who wouldn't love him? C'mon, look at him, no one can resist that." 

Sirius sounded terribly certain of that, which made it all the worse that James was currently mashing his glasses against his face rather than change where he was leaning his head. 

"Alright so Lily can," he conceded a moment later, "but she's just one bird. Luckily for us, James swings both ways so all we have to do is pick the most likely candidates." 

"This is a horrible idea," James said. 

"I agree," Remus said, and Peter nodded. "When do we start?" 

Sirius pulled a list out of his pocket, and all three of them began going through it, adding names and striking off the ones that they didn't think liked James quite enough to be viable. 

*

"Y'know," Sirius said, all fake casual like he did when he was upset with James, "this whole 'saving you' thing would be going a lot better if you weren't sabotaging it every step of the way. But I guess that's the James Potter way, yeah? Who cares if you die if you do it in a semi-romantic way?" 

"I'm not dying." 

"Correct me if I'm wrong-" he knew he wasn't wrong "-but Hanahaki is a terminal illness most of the time, isn't it?" 

James sighed, settling in to wait this out. When Sirius reached this point, it normally meant that James just had to take it. "Yes." 

"And-- again, correct me if I'm wrong-- but you wanted to play Quidditch professionally, didn't you?" 

Trust Sirius to go right for the throat. He knew what hurt, and he was going to use it if it came to that. Obviously, he thought it had come to that. "Yes." 

"And do you think you can do that with your lungs the way they are?" 

"No." 

"Interesting," he said in that way that meant it wasn't interesting, it was something he already knew. He had to get James to admit it so they could get to the part where Sirius asked him what he really needed to know. "So, why don't you tell me why you're willing to throw away your future with a career you've wanted your entire life, instead of trying to get over her?" And this is where Sirius dropped the fake-calm facade. "I get it, Lily's great, but she's not worth giving up everything! For fuck's sake James, I thought you'd gotten over her last summer, but now it's like nothing's changed! You can be happy without her, she's not the only thing you've ever liked about your life. I really need you to think, because this isn't a bloody game. This is your life. You have Quidditch, you have the Marauders, you have your grades even if the professional Quidditch career doesn't go through. How can you do this to yourself?" 

James didn't answer. He just looked at him blankly. 

"James, I'm not fucking around: Lily. Isn't. Worth this. She's great, she's amazing, you love her-- whatever! It won't matter in ten years!" 

Still, he said nothing. He didn't mean to. He wanted to open his mouth and assure Sirius that he wasn't throwing his life away, but he couldn't get his body to respond. 

And Sirius crumpled. "Fine. Just- fine. Go off and die when you refuse treatment, see if I care." He slammed the door behind him when he left. He never had been a very good liar. 

Yeah. Maybe sitting there and not saying anything hadn't been the best way of handling that. 

Sirius didn't come back for a couple hours, running off to the Forbidden Forest to waste some energy as Padfoot. James thought about chasing after him, but he needed some time to think, and Sirius needed the time to cool off. 

From the moment he'd coughed up his petal, to Sirius finding out, to right before Sirius left, it had never occurred to James to tell him. He could perfectly envision the way Sirius's face would fall, if James told him. The way he'd say he was sorry, but he didn't feel the same. The way he'd suggest that maybe they should try dating anyways, just to see if it would work because maybe he would grow to love James anyways. James wanted a lot from Sirius, but never, not for a moment, did he want to force Sirius into something like that. Because when it inevitably didn't work, Sirius was going to feel more guilty than ever, and James was going to feel absolutely shattered that Sirius couldn't love him back. 

He had tried not to think about it. That had been his brilliant plan. He could think about how much he loved Sirius's voice and laugh and smell because they could pass off as friendly qualities. He couldn't think about how much he wanted to kiss him or hold his hand or fall asleep next to him, because that was too far for friends. He put those feelings in a box and pretended that the box did not exist. Surprisingly, it was easier to do now that he had Hanahaki, since Sirius was so concentrated on finding James a partner that they weren't spending as much time together. 

Maybe he should come clean though. Refusing to get over Lily was one thing, refusing to get over Sirius was another. Maybe he'd let James leave it all alone if he told him. That didn't really sound like Sirius, but he was willing to give it a try if Sirius came back as mad as ever. 

"Feel better?" he asked when Sirius walked back in. 

"No." 

"Great," James muttered. 

"I understood you fancying Lily, but I don't... I don't understand this. How can you be in love with her? You barely know her. She won't let you know her because you were a prat to her for so long. I know that you love her and I'm sorry, but I don't see how she's that important to you." 

"You never asked if it was Lily." 

Sirius looked up from fiddling with shite on his nightstand. "What?" 

"Who I was in love with. You never asked if it was Lily." 

"That's because it's so bloody obvious. You haven't talked about anyone else half as often." 

Anyone except the other Marauders, but clearly, Sirius didn't think any of them were options. "You think I don't care about her enough for it to be her, but you don't think it could possibly be anyone else." 

"Fine," Sirius said, humoring him. "Who are you in love with?" 

"You." 

Sirius froze. Then he glared. "That's not funny. How can you be so flippant about this?" 

James glared right back. "I'm not going to bloody pour out my heart just because you don't believe me. Sod off. Go bother Remus about his muggle mates some more." 

"...You're serious. It's me." 

"Who the fuck else would it be?" James said, with far more confidence than he was feeling. 

Sirius sat down hard on his bed, staring at James like this possibility had literally never occurred to him. "I..." 

"I don't need to hear it, mate. Just. I told you so you'd stop trying to set me up with people. I don't expect anything from you." 

Sirius walked over and sat on the bed next to him. Neither of them looked at each other. It wasn't awkward-- not quite yet-- but it was too close to that for James to feel good about telling him. "I used to hate Lily. So much for pretty much no reason." 

"Yeah I remember." 

"It wasn't for no reason. That's what I told you when you asked so you wouldn't get pissed at me, thinking it was blood purist bullshit. It was- erm. More than that." 

"What do you mean 'more'?" 

"Come on, don't make me say it. You know what I'm talking about." 

"You're crediting me with more brains than I have." 

Sirius gave him a flat look. "You're not stupid, you berk," he said, giving him a shove. 

"Hey, I'm fragile. On death's doorstep." 

Sirius gave him a small smile, one that was completely at odds with the way their banter normally went. "I've been in love with you since- Merlin only knows how long, and you only ever had eyes for Lily. It was stupid, but I thought that if you liked her a little less, maybe you'd notice me as more than a mate. And now... now you're trying to tell me that it is me. Kinda seems like a load of tripe, y'know?" 

"I dunno, but if I kiss you does that mean you won't hex me?" 

Sirius huffed, but that wasn't a no and even though he was about to argue with him, James figured this was the best time he'd get. He put a hand on the side of Sirius's face and leaned in. Sitting next to each other wasn't the best angle for this sort of thing, but it got his point across rather nicely. 

"I think the real question is how in the buggering hell you let me make such an arse of myself for that many years without saying anything." 

"I thought it was cute, now shut it and kiss me again. Merlin, you're a dick, I can't believe you developing Hanahaki over me." 

James decided that kissing was both fun and a good way of getting both of them to shut it. 

[mst3kproject]

The Devil’s Eight

The nasty misanthropic Ross Hagen revenge movies were among my least favourite episodes of MST3K, so it’s no surprise I haven’t done one as an Episode that Never Was.  But this blog isn’t about movies I like, it’s about movies that were or should have been on the Satellite of Love.  The Devil’s Eight is from American International Pictures, and as well as Hagen it features Leslie Parrish, whom you’ll remember as Ev from The Giant Spider Invasion, and Cliff Osmond, whom you probably don’t remember as the Sheriff in Hangar 18.  And on a super-duper-extra-promising note, it was written by Willard Huyck, who did the script for American Graffiti… but also for Howard the Duck.

FBI Agent Faulkner has been assigned to arrest a powerful crime lord.  Several of his colleagues have already tried this mission and been killed, so rather than use fellow agents, he frees a bunch of criminals from a chain gang and forces them to be his underlings, because we’re here to rip off The Dirty Dozen and we don’t care if it makes sense.  Driving specially souped-up cars, this unwashed and unshaven bunch infiltrate the crime boss’ moonshine operation only to realize that he’s set a trap for them.  The movie climaxes in a free-for-all of shooting, driving, and blowing shit up, and I have no idea what was happening for most of it but Ross Hagen got to hug his girlfriend at the end so it must have worked out okay.

My number one complaint about The Devil’s Eight (and I have many) is that there is only one piece of music in the entire film.  It’s a repetitive and obnoxiously catchy two-line melody that is arranged in a dozen different ways, attempting to sound ominous, mischievous, romantic, dramatic, and so forth, but the only thing it ever actually does sound like is comical old west saloon music.  It repeats through the whole hour and forty minutes of the movie and then we have to hear a ditty about the characters sung to the same tune over the end credits.  I can already tell it’s gonna be in my head for days and it’s making me want to stab something.

From the beginning, The Devil’s Eight is very badly constructed.  We start with the prison break, which was probably a good idea, and follow it until the surprise moment when they find the helicopter there waiting for them.  This scene is weirdly reminiscent of its counterpart in Starcrash and I assume both of them stole it from some better movie.  Once they’re in the chopper, however, we segue into a flashback of Faulkner and his boss talking about the mission.  Skipping back in time to a couple of guys talking in an office totally derails the momentum the first scene built up.  We want to know what’s going on, but the same information could have (and partially was) imparted by Faulkner talking to the rest a moment later!

When he does talk to them, he is maddeningly vague about what their plan is.  It involves secretly armored cars and throwing grenades while driving them – we can gather that much from the montages that follow.  The ultimate goal is to find a guy named Burl, who brews his own moonshine and apparently ‘owns’ most of the cops and politicians in wherever this is, and whom we know nothing about until the movie is half over.  When things finally do start happening, we still don’t really know what they’re trying to accomplish, and we’re not sure the characters are.  Faulkner acts like he knows what he’s doing, and the other guys (and the audience) just have to take that on faith.

In addition to telling us what the hell the characters are trying to accomplish, the first third or so of the movie should be spent getting to know them and setting up their arcs.  The Devil’s Eight tries to do this but it’s pretty half-assed about it.  There’s Sonny, the drunk troublemaker, who resolutely refuses to evolve even at gunpoint. There’s Chandler, the guy who is trying to better himself by giving up violence and reading the bible.  He turns out to be the most brutal hand-to-hand fighter of the lot, absolutely creaming half of Burl’s guys in a barfight, but he’s given no resolution to his desire for a pacifist lifestyle and is gunned down moments after admitting he doesn’t know whether to believe in god or not. And there’s Henry and Billy Jo, the black guy and the bigot (respectively), who learn to appreciate each other.  I have to give this arc a couple of grudging points for ending with Henry weeping over Billy Jo’s dead body rather than the reverse… congratulations, guys, you were slightly less racist than you could have been.

The character with the biggest personal investment in this and the one who tries to have a real story arc is Ross Hagen’s Frank. He used to work for Burl until, for unknown reasons, Burl framed him for murder, killed his younger brother, and stole his girlfriend.  He’s now itching for revenge and is personal stake in the mission leads him to take charge and enforce order when the others try to rebel against Faulkner.  That sounds like a pretty good storyline for the main character in a movie.

Then they blow it.  When Faulkner tells him they have to bring Burl in alive, Frank gets mad and insists he deserves to die.  Then, like that other Frank in T-Bird Gang, he gets no resolution for it.  The audience expects him to have a moment of confrontation with Burl and then either kill him or decide not to do so. The final confrontation, however, is between Burl and Faulkner, while Frank just fucking stands there.  It seems incomprehensible when it’s his girlfriend Burl is threatening to shoot.

This scene also has a perfect opportunity to pay off another thing The Devil’s Eight set up earlier – there’s a scene in which Faulkner demonstrates his skill as a marksman by putting three holes in a target without hitting the man who is reaching to take the target off its stand.  When Burl began threatening to shoot Frank’s girlfriend, Faulkner stood up and I was sure we were going to get a payoff for that, with Faulkner shooting Burl in the leg or the hand to make him let go of the woman, without hitting her.  But instead, Faulkner just drops his gun and walks forward to parlay!  It’s a failure of Chekov’s gun with an actual gun in it.

I think Faulkner is supposed to be the actual main character.  He’s in charge, after all, and he’s the one who gets things like flashbacks and climactic confrontations.  The problem with this is that Faulkner never learns anything, never grows, and we get no insights into his character.  He’s just a huge asshole to everybody from his girlfriend to the prisoners to the rookie agent the FBI sent to assist him (this character’s age is never established. He’s implied to be young and naïve, but he’s played by an actor who looks like he’s around forty).  Faulkner’s final line is not to place Burl under arrest, although that’s coming, but to make fun of him.

If Faulkner is a crummy hero, Burl is a terrible villain.  We don’t even meet him until the movie’s half-over, which I guess is supposed to build suspense.  The problem is that until that moment, we have seen nothing to tell us what kind of threat he represents.  Characters have talked about it, but that’s all.  We got a vague impression of a local crime king, but when Burl actually arrives in the narrative he’s a Joe Don Baker-looking guy who lives in a ramshackle log cabin in the middle of nowhere, with a bunch of other hillbillies who differ from him mostly in being dirtier.  All he seems to actually do is sit around eating.  He never comes across as threatening, just as a hick with pretensions.

Without a compelling hero, a threatening bad guy, or much of an idea what this is all even building to, where does that leave The Devil’s Eight?  It’s an over-long movie about dirty men driving huge cars and punching each other. The movie had plenty of time that could have gone into rising action and establishing character and playing up Burl’s threat and so forth, but instead it’s just training montages of driving and punching.  Once the actual plan is in motion that turns out to be just more driving and punching as they run Burl’s moonshine deliveries off the road.  The driving scenes are set to that annoying single piece of music that sounds more comical than exciting, the bluescreen backgrounds are dire, and the actors are utterly incapable of making their fake driving look anything but fake.

Everybody in the entire movie is filthy, by the way. I don’t know if this is actually supposed to invoke the ‘dirty’ part of The Dirty Dozen, or if it’s an attempt to show how rough and tough these guys are, but they’re all grimy, sweaty, and gross.  I could almost smell them through the screen.

MST3K would have had a great time with The Devil’s Eight.  I can picture Crow and Tom trying to make their own moonshine… Mike tastes it and doesn’t like it but tries not to insult them, and then they reveal it’s distilled from things like old o-rings and Joel’s socks.  And I know exactly what the stinger would have been, too.  There’s a bit where Burl and Faulkner are attempting to size each other up over dinner, and Burl orders Frank’s ex-girlfriend to mind her manners and give Frank a slice of her inexpertly-iced cake.  I don’t know why this is so funny, but I don’t know what made half the stingers in the series funny, so there you go.

[dukereviewsmovies]

Duke Reviews: Dumbo (1941)

Hello, I'm Andrew Leduc And Welcome To Duke Reviews Where We Are Continuing Our Look At Disney...

By Talking About Walt Disney's 4th Animated Feature, Dumbo...

Based On The Book By Helen Aberson And Harold Pearl, This Film Is About A Baby Elephant Named Dumbo, Who Is Laughed At For His Big Ears When In Actuality He Is Capable Of Flying By Using Them...

So What Are We Waiting For Let's Dive Into Dumbo And See If It's As Good As I Remember It...

The Film Starts With An Odd Intro, Before Going Into The First Song, Look Out For Mr. Stork..

Because We Can't Have Animals Having Sex In Disney Animated Movies So We Have To Do This...

And It's A Good Song For What It Is...

The Next Day, The Animals And Performers In The Circus Board The Casey Jr. Circus Train Which Leads Into Our Next Song...

(Start At 1:09)

And I Absolutely Love This Song, Whenever I Hear It I Can't Help But Sing Along While Thinking Of The Fantasyland Attraction Which Is One Of My Favorite Attractions At The Park..

But As The Train Travels, Mrs. Jumbo And The Other Elephants (One Of Them Voiced By Verna Felton)

Disney Showcase: Verna Felton

Character Roles (Aside From Her Role In Dumbo):

The Fairy Godmother In Cinderella

The Queen Of Hearts In Alice In Wonderland

Aunt Sarah In Lady And The Tramp

Flora And The Queen In Sleeping Beauty

And The Wife Of Colonel Hathi In The Jungle Book

As I Was Saying, Mrs Jumbo And The Other Elephants Are Visited By A Stork (Voiced By Sterling Holloway)

Disney Showcase: Sterling Holloway

Character Roles (Aside From His Role In Dumbo):

Adult Flower In Bambi

The Cheshire Cat In Alice In Wonderland

Kaa In The Jungle Book

Roquefort The Mouse In The Aristocats

And Winnie The Pooh In The Many Adventures Of Winnie The Pooh

Anyway The Stork Delivers A Baby To Mrs. Jumbo And Sings Happy Birthday Before Taking Off, So Jumbo And The Other Elephants Can See The Baby But When He Sneezes It's Discovered That He Has Big Ears..,

With The Other Elephants Laughing And Nicknaming The Baby Dumbo, Jumbo Teaches Them A Lesson Before Ignoring Them...

(End At 0:58)

With It Starting To Storm The Roustabouts Get To Work, Setting Things Up Which Leads To Our Next Song...

(Start At 0:27)

And This Is Probably The Only Song In This Movie That I Don't Like, I Know What They Were Going For With This Song But I Just Don't Like It...

The Next Day, The Circus Comes To Town With A Big Parade...

However, When People Come To The Circus There's An Incident Between An Obnoxious Little Boy And Dumbo. When The Kid Goes To Far, Jumbo Protects Her Baby By Giving The Boy A Swat On The Butt...

But Catching The Attention Of The Ringmaster And The Other Performers And Trainers Of The Circus, They Chain Jumbo Up And Label Her A Mad Elephant...

With The Others Thinking Jumbo Went Too Far Despite Defending Her Baby...

Hello, Any Mother Would Have Done The Same, You Old Broads Whether It's Lady Like Or Not!

I Realize This Was Made In The 1940's But Still!...

They Shun Dumbo Entirely Which Leads Timothy Mouse To Teach Those Bitches A Lesson Before Befriending Dumbo And Deciding To Become His Benefactor...

Overhearing That The Ringmaster Intends On Using The Elephants To Make A Large Pyramid But Having No Idea Of How To End It. Timothy Tells The Ringmaster While He Sleeps To Make Dumbo His Climax By Having Him Jump On A Springboard To The Tip Top Of The Pyramid...

The Next Night, The Ringmaster Does The Trick In The Show But When Dumbo Runs To Jump, He Trips Over His Ears And Knocks Over The Entire Pyramid And The Big Top Altogether...

With The Other Elephants In Traction, They Decide That Dumbo Is No Longer An Elephant When They Hear The Ringmaster Has Made Him A Clown As Punishment For His Screw Up..

To Which I Only Have To Say One Thing...

While The Crowd Responds Well To The Clowns Act With Dumbo, They Decide To Alter The Act In The Next Performance Making The Platform Higher Than In The Original Act...

Visiting Mrs. Jumbo's Cell, We Get The Most Emotional Song In This Movie...

(Start At 0:43)

And Yes, I'd Be Heartless To Not Admit That Yes, 9 Times Out Of 10 I Do Cry At This Scene, Hell, I Cry At It More Than Bambi's Mother's Death Which We'll Cover Next Week But Still...

Telling Dumbo To Cheer Up, They Go To Get A Drink Of Water Not Knowing That The Clowns Dropped A Bottle Of Wine Into The Pail They're Drinking Out Of...

But Doing So Causes Them To See Images Of Pink Elephants Which Leads Into The Song You Think We're Leading Into...

(End At 1:42)

The Next Morning, Timothy And Dumbo Wake Up In A Tree Where They Meet A Pair Of Black Crows...

As I Said When Dumbo And Timothy Wake Up In A Tree The Next Morning, They Meet A Pair Of Black Crows (With 2 Of Them Played By James Baskett Who Played Uncle Remus In Song Of The South (Which I Will Not Be Reviewing) And Cliff Edwards Who Was The Original Voice Of Jiminy Cricket)...

Figuring Out That Somehow Dumbo Must Have Flown Them Up The Tree, It Leads The Crows To Make Fun Of Dumbo By Singing The Next Song..

And I Love This Song. Yes, The Crows Are Racist But Without Them We Wouldn't Have This Song That Everyone Knows..

But Telling The Crows Dumbo's Story, The Crows Feel Bad About Making Fun Of Dumbo And Decide To Help Him Fly By Giving Him A Magical Feather To Give Him The Confidence To Fly...

Returning To The Circus, Dumbo Does The Clowns Act And (Aside From Losing The Feather) He Flies...

And That's Dumbo And Despite Being A Good Movie With A Good Story It Is Rather...Short...

Don't Get Me Wrong, I Liked Nearly Everything About This Movie, It's Just That Unlike Snow White, Pinocchio And Fantasia Which Were Longer Dumbo Was Shorter Than Them. But Either Way I Say See It...

Be Sure To Check Out Duke Reviews Xtra This Week As We Look At The Remake Of Dumbo So Till Then, This Is Duke, Signing Off...

[thecursedvaultchild]

Year 5 - The Vault (Part 2)

Looking between the various limbs of her friends, Summer saw Rakepick. Standing near the door. With a smirk that could put the trickiest fox to shame. “None of you are going into that room. I was here first.”

Merula sounded shaken. “Madam Rakepick…?” 

“But we all transported in together—” Charlie’s explanation of why that didn’t make any logical sense was quickly put off by Bill’s wheeze.

“Not now, Charlie…”

Summer pushed herself onto her knees, glaring up at her. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. You came here. Years ago. With my brother.”

“Clever, Charn. But not clever enough. Yes, I’ve been to the Cursed Vaults before. With Jacob. And Peter Pettigrew, too. I was working with both of them. Same plan, same Portkey.” Rakepick crossed her arms and had the audacity to look annoyed. “But that power-hungry Pettigrew lost his nerve as soon as he saw the Horntail…Transported out with the portrait and went into hiding, leaving your brother and me to die.”

Blood pounded through her head. She glared up at the woman she had trusted. “So my brother is dead.” She hated the thought, hated how her voice cracked, hated this wretched witch.

She examined her gloved nails, truly an act of petty condescension. “We distracted the dragon for as long as we could. Long enough for your brother to use his Legilimency abilities to open the door. Only a Legilimens can unlock the treasures within this Cursed Vault.”

“And you knew this all along,” spat Summer.

“Of course. It’s why I needed your brother. And why I needed you.”

Bill also got to his knees. “Why did you need the rest of us?”

“Dragon bait.” She chuckled. “Jacob and I alone weren’t able to defeat the dragon so I knew I’d need more students. I figured together you’d slay the dragon. Or die trying. It’s why I held Miss Charn back from approaching the door first. I couldn’t risk putting my key to the door on the front line of a dragon battle.”

“Funny. It happened anyway. I took the dragon on myself. I guess you must be a pretty pathetic witch if you need to recruit children to do your dirty work.”

“Quite the contrary. The rest of you ‘curse-breakers?’ Collateral damage, I’m afraid. Entirely expendable to me.”

Out of nowhere, Bill rushed Rakepick, but she casually blasted him back. 

“Bill!” The younger Weasley pulled him onto his lap.

“I’m all right, Charlie…”

“Where is my brother?! What happened to him, you vile fiend!”

“Manners, Miss Charn. He opened the door but we hadn’t defeated the dragon as you did, only held it off. So the Portrait Curse was never broken. The dragon was trapped once again in a portrait…And so was Jacob.”

“In there? With the Hungarian Horntail?”

“No, in another portrait. In the room beyond that door…"

A sob escaped her body. Jacob was alive. Of course he was, he had to be! He was just trapped inside a portrait this whole time. She had to save him. But how with Rakepick blocking the entrance…? 

Rage flashing across her features, she charged Rakepick. 

“Petrifius Totalus!”

But with a wand flick, her wand hit nothing and she too was sent flying back. 

“First, Bill. Then you. I just told you…none of you are going into that room.”

“I have to save Jacob! You! You just left my brother trapped here in a portrait for all this time!”

“Is that all you ever think of, Miss Charn? Your brother who abandoned you and left a legacy to haunt you for the rest of your days? You really are a Slytherin. 

“I had no choice but to leave him. I touched the column in the room, but it didn’t unlock any treasure. It transported me out and into the Forbidden Forest. I don’t know why. I suppose with the dragon still in play and the curse unbroken, the treasure was still untouchable. With no Portkey and no clue as to what rock Pettigrew crawled under, I had no way of returning here. Until I found my back into Hogwarts and found you.” 

Summer was going to tear this witch apart alive.

“You could’ve tried to save him!”

“I’m afraid finding my way back into the vault and its treasure took up all of my time. You know how it is,” she purred. “You’re obsessed with the Cursed Vaults, too.”

That hit deep. Was she into this to save people, like Beatrice and Jacob? Or was it the thrill?

“I was trying to break curses and find my brother, not find some stupid mystery treasure!”

“Keep telling yourself that, Miss Charn.

“As I said, I was transported out of here against my will so I had no choice but to leave Jacob behind. But if I did have a choice…I would have left him here to rot anyway.”

“HE TRUSTED YOU, YOU SELFISH WITCH!”

“So did all of you at one point or another. The good news is, I won’t sentence you to a fate as long and grueling as Jacob’s…You’ve outlived your usefulness so I’ll kill you all now—”

For once, Rakepick was cut off instead of doing the cutting off. Summer looked over to see Merula had shot a nonverbal spell at her. Rakepick flinched back but the stalked forward with the grace of a fox that had cornered its prey.

“Crucio!”

To Summer’s horror, Merula began to thrash around on the ground, writhing, screaming in pure agony. It was awful, awful. The fox didn’t even look bothered, as if she was squashing a bug instead of torturing the girl that had looked up to her as if she were the sun.

“You wanted to learn how to cast Crucio, Miss Snyde…Are you taking notes?”

Merula’s screams continued.

“We have to stop Rakepick!” Summer pushed herself back to her feet, drawing her wand.

“Expelliarmus!”

The spell was nonchalantly blocked. Summer cursed under her breath. Why had she not started practicing nonverbal spells yet? 

Her heart leapt along with the three Gryffindor boys as they jumped up and entered the fray alongside her. She couldn’t ask for better friends. Maybe Ben really was becoming more brave. And less irritating.

But their spells also just bounced off her Shield Charm.

“It’s not working!” shouted Ben.

“She’s too strong!” agreed Charlie.

“Keep at it! We can’t let her win!” Bill sounded furious.

Merula screamed again. “Whyyyy?!”

“Why? I owe you no explanation or apology. Remember what I once told you? ‘Never apologize for doing what you know in your heart that you absolutely must do, Merula.’ You thanked me for the advice, you needy little witch! At least Azkaban is giving your parents a well-deserved break from you.”

Merula screamed.

“You heart is as foul and black as the hell you came from, fiend! You can burn in it too, for all I care!” Summer shot a Confringo at her but she merely deflected it again.

With an almost bored expression, Rakepick turned her head towards her. “I’m under orders from my associates that one of your dreadfully dull friends has to die this year. Why not Merula? She thinks she’s my favorite? Is she anyone’s?” Like the mad witch she was, she actually cackled.

“Bill, I’ve just thought of something,” Summer whispered. “Keep on Rakepick…Then go with all you’ve got on my count of three.”

“You’ve got it, Summer.”

Well, Snape said one day I’d need to use this against her. Guess he was right. Typical. 

“One…two…THREE!” Summer chucked the bottle of Garroting Gas and it exploded at her feet.

As the gas swirled around her, Rakepick began gasping for air. For the first time, Summer saw genuine, unadulterated fear in her eyes. And Summer loved it.

The boys attacked her and this time their spells all hit, throwing her backwards.

Summer raised her wand to cast one more spell. A curse, actually. She said it just softly enough that the boys wouldn’t hear but with all the ferocity of a dragon. “Sectumsempra.” Rakepick began to convulse and blood slowly starting spilling out of her. A tingling sensation rushed through Summer’s veins and pleasure swelled in her chest. She could’ve purred. The cat had finally snagged down the tail feathers of the two-faced crow. And it was so, so satisfying

 “That’s for Merula and my brother and everyone you’ve hurt, you witch!”

“This isn’t the end! You won’t stop ‘R’—we’re too powerful! I will get to the final Cursed Vault before you! The treasure will belong to ‘R’!” Glaring up at Summer, she vanished.

“What? Where’d she go?”

“Disapparated, I guess? She told us this vault was off school grounds.”

Summer ignored them and the spot where Rakepick had been just moments before. “Merula! Merula, it’s okay. it’s over. Rakepick’s gone. You’re safe.” She knelt and picked up the other girl’s body, hugging her tightly.

Merula was trembling like a baby bird. It wrenched Summer’s heart. Sure, Merula could be obnoxious and cruel at times and they weren’t exactly the best of friends, but seeing her like this? She didn’t deserve this. 

“Your brother…” Her voice was faint. “Go to your brother…”

Summer looked over at the door. Her brother…Jacob…

“Go, Summer.” Bill put his hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got her. Go save Jacob.”

She nodded, gently passing her over to Bill. Charlie crouched down beside him while Ben remained watchful behind them.

Slowly, she walked towards the door. Jacob was just beyond in that room.

She climbed into the portrait.

First thing she noticed was the overwhelming amount of paintings. Portraits everywhere. All shapes and sizes, covering the walls, all the way up and up. Wizards, knights, even arbitrary landscapes! She had to find the one Jacob was trapped in. She hoped it wasn’t another painting with a dragon. Why were there so many? 

She carefully started circling the room, checking every portrait. Nothing. And all the occupants were watching her with way too much interest. Except one.

One had a figure with their back to her. They appeared to have their head in their hands and they had given up on the world. Such a forlorn figure…As she got closer, the more sure she was it was him. It had to be. Her heart told her it must be so, it must be the brother she loved. The brother she followed and broke rules for and nearly died for. It had to be him. At the portrait, she tried to reach for him, but could only put her hand against it. The figure seemed to notice a disturbance. They got up and walked forward, steps long and heavy. Exhaustion seeped out of them. Stepping into the light, he placed his hand on hers in the painting.

“Hey, Pip.”

Jacob. He was different but it was him no doubt. He’d gotten paler. His frame was gaunt, heavy clothes hanging loosely around him. His hair was long now, silver like hers. Though darker. It flopped limply across his sunken eyes. Those familiar blue eyes. She’d know them anywhere.

“Jacob.”

“It’s good to see you. And that you got past the dragon alive. If you could just let me out…” His eyes moved towards the column in the center.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of him as she slowly backed up and touched it. The portrait blazed with light. It nearly blinded her, but she squinted against it. As the magic fell away, he fell out of the frame. And she rushed to catch him.

“JACOB!”

She grabbed a hold of him and he of her. And the two newly reunited siblings sunk down to their knees, clutching each other like they’d never let go. Her face burrowed into his chest. His chin rested on her head. Her body heaved with every sob, fingers tight. Tears dropped onto her hair. He held her tighter. Everything she had done for the past five years had led to this moment, to finding her brother. All her emotions came bubbling out as she cried into his shirt. She felt she was a little kid again. Like when Jacob comforted her after their mum confiscated the Cornish Pixie she had kept in a jar and grown rather attached to. Or that time they had fought over whatever silly thing but he still slipped into her room that night, pretending she was the one afraid of thunderstorms instead of him and sleeping cuddled up together. Or them playing in the garden and accidentally eating the wrong kind of berries and ended up sick for a week. Oh, how she had missed him and he had missed her. And here they were. They were together again. 

“Oh, Summer. I’m so sorry.”

“You should be, you big dummy.”

“I already said it, Pip, what more do you want from me?” His voice was faintly teasing.

“Don’t get stuck in anymore cursed situations I’ve got to break.”

He chuckled. “I’ll try. But no promises.”

She pulled back a bit, resting on her heels as she just looked at him. Jacob. He was here. Alive! It seemed almost too good to be true. Her grip tightened even more. It felt like a hazy dream that she’d lose forever if she let go. So many years without him. Years of desperately trying to find him, heeding the faint words he spoke to her. She saw herself almost going mad with obsession trying to find him. If he left her grasp…

“I missed you so much. And still with the nickname?”

“Well, you may have gotten taller, but you’re still a pipsqueak next to me.” His voice softened. “And… I missed you too. Trust me, I wasn’t intending to get trapped in a portrait for five years. I always planned on coming back for you.”

“I never stopped looking for you.”

“Yeah, what took you so long?”

She shot him a look. 

He laughed. “Yeah, I know. I was really hard to find.”

“You’re in a place most people don’t believe exists, Jacob.”

“Fair point.”

He looped a finger around one of her silver locks, examining it. “You must have gone through a lot to get here…you even were cursed by the ice like me.”

“I’ve been haunted by you ever since you left. I guess I also followed in your footsteps, stepped into your shoes. All to find you.” She chuckled. “So much so that the Ministry has a file on me and concern on my rogue Curse-Breaking.”

“Wow. Did you steal my reputation entirely?”

“No. Mum still wishes she had you helping her in the gardens as her Number One Assistant. It’s a miracle I haven’t killed everything in the school Greenhouses yet.” She locked onto his bluer-than-green eyes. “There’s so much I want to tell you, Jakey. And so much you need to tell me. All the rumors, surely they can’t be true. I’ve always believed in you.”

He pulled her back into a hug. “Thank you. For not giving up on me.”

“I’d never. You’re my big brother.

“But you still have some explaining to do. I’ve become an Animagus and a prefect and got a year-long detention. I have fought dementors, acromantulas, and a flipping Hungarian Horntail. I have nearly died to come and find you and the dragon wasn’t even trying to kill me the most, it was ‘R,’ and you owe me—”

“Wait! ‘R’? You know about them?” His eyes were wild and he seemed to instantly age the five years he missed in the portrait.

“They’ve been after me for years, keep trying to kill me or one of my friends. Rakepick just did the latest attempt—”

He suddenly snarled and a shadow came across his face that made him look more animal than human. She quietly wondered if he too had become an Animagus or…had been bitten.

“Rakepick? You know her? That awful witch?”

Her eyes darkened. “She tricked us all, even when I had my suspicions. She manipulated me, tortured one of my friends, and left you behind. She got away. I Sectumsempra her before she Apparated though. Hope it hurts. She deserves it.”

He shook her shoulders rather violently. “She just Apparated? Right now?!”

“Yeah…”

“I have to leave. Now!” He shot up, going for his wand. “This is exactly what I didn’t want…”

Before he could cast anything, his wand flew out of his hand. And ended up in Summer’s. She was glaring with tears in her eyes, her own wand pointed at him. “No. You aren’t leaving me again.”

“Summer, I wanted to protect you and the family from ‘R’—”

“Take me with you. I’m not a little girl anymore. I’ve done so much over the years to find you. I’m a powerful witch now. We can take on Rakepick together. Whatever it takes, even if I have to Avada Kedavra every one of their agents myself.”

“YOU’RE FIFTEEN! THIS IS MY FIGHT, NOT YOURS, SUMMER GWYNDOLYN CHARN!”

“YOU’RE MY BROTHER, JACOB ASTER CHARN! YOUR FIGHT IS MY FIGHT!”

“GO BACK HOME!” He breathed rapidly, staring at her. “Go home, Pip. I’m supposed to protect you, not lead you to your death. ‘R’ was supposed to stay away from you. I’ve got to go stop them from getting the treasure! Don’t you understand?!” 

He tried to grab her shoulders again but she held her wand against his throat.

“Don’t leave me again.” The plea was quiet but desperate.

“I’ve got to go. You know how it is. Slytherins use whatever means necessary to achieve their own ends.”

And while she wasn’t looking, he snatched his wand from her grasp and spun away.

“I’m sorry, but I have to do this. I love you. We’ll find each other again. Be safe.” He paused before he Apparated away. “Don’t tell Mum.”

And with that, Summer was left alone once again by her brother, sobbing.

Fin.

[perfectlyrose]

got your number

Summary:  Shiro finds the phone number of the guy he had a crush on back in high school and decides to call it on a whim. He never expected Keith to still have the same number. (Sheith Modern AU)

Rating: All Ages || Word Count: 6160

AO3

Shiro bites down on his lip as he stares at the piece of paper in his hand. It’s a scrap of old notebook paper, torn edges slightly discolored from the years it has sat in a box in the back of his closet with the rest of his childhood mementos. The numbers scrawled across it aren’t written in alignment with the lined paper and when he traces the last digit he can feel the indentation from the writer pressing down too hard with their pen.

The numbers would be nigh on illegible if Shiro hadn’t once known this particular handwriting as well as his own. Even without a name attached to the number on the page, he knows this was written by Keith.

He’s pretty sure he could have let the familiar string of numbers trip off his tongue from memory even ten years after the last time he dialed them.

Shiro considers for about thirty seconds before pulling out his phone and punching in Keith’s old number. They lost touch a decade ago after Keith moved away during his sophomore year of high sch-ool. Shiro’s always harbored a sense of regret about not trying harder to keep in contact with Keith, has tucked the feeling away in a corner of his heart much like Keith’s number was tucked away in a box.

He hesitates for a second before hitting call and putting the phone to his ear. His heart is pounding as the ringing fills his ear. There was no way Keith would still have the same number. Shiro’s switched numbers three times.

Still, he can’t help but hope as the ringing continues.

“If this is another fucking political call I will find a way to sabotage your candidate’s entire life.”

Shiro froze. This is not what he was expecting but against all odds, that was definitely Keith’s voice on the other end of the line. Deeper and rougher than it used to be, but still Keith and still full of all the irritation he fondly remembers.

“Keith?”

“Personalized calls. I’m moving up in the world,” the other man says.

“This, um, this isn’t a political call?”

“You don’t sound entirely sure of that.”

“I’m a little thrown off by being threatened by someone I haven’t talked to in ten years before I even got to say hello,” Shiro says. A smile is stealing onto his face and it’s so stupid. Keith isn’t even being friendly and he can still pull a smile from Shiro without effort. “I should at least be yelled at for things that I’ve done.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line.

“Keith?”

“Are you fucking with me?”

Shiro laughed. “I’m really not.”

“Who are you?” Suspicion is dripping from Keith’s every word.

Shiro remembers his tendency to punch first and ask questions later when they were teenagers and is suddenly glad that he was out of physical range.

“This is awkward,” he starts. “You might not remember me but I found your number again and I couldn’t resist the chance to possibly talk to you again even though it’s been forever and I can’t believe you still have the same number anyways and-”

“Shiro?” The suspicion is gone, replaced with something close to wonder, close to disbelief.

“Um, yeah. Hi, Keith. What gave me away?”

“Oh my god, you still ramble like an idiot when you’re nervous. It’s pretty distinctive. Also you’re one of the only people who’d call someone after ten years of radio silence.”

“Right, um, so how have you been?” Shiro winces as the words come out of his mouth. He carefully puts down the scrap of paper with Keith’s number before he crushes it in his fist.

.Keith laughs and it’s low and warm and Shiro feels like he’s fifteen again. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“I didn’t exactly think this through,” Shiro admits. “I called before I could convince myself not to.”

There’s silence for a moment and then, “Are you disappointed that I answered?”

“No!” Shiro rushes to assure him. “I just meant that I don’t exactly have a game plan for this conversation. What am I supposed to say to someone I haven’t talked to in ten years but still miss?”

“You miss me?” The words come out slow.

“Yeah. You were my best friend, Keith.”

“Why didn’t you call before now, then?”

Shiro lets out a long breath, the regret unspooling from its corner to swim through his veins. “I tried right after you moved away but you never picked up. I stopped calling after a couple weeks. Figured you had my number too and would call when you were ready.”

“Oh.”

“Keith, I… I know I already said I don’t have a gameplan for this conversation so you have to deal with the rambling but it’s really really good to talk to you again. Even if you did start out by threatening me.”

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope,” Shiro says, giddy at the prospect of teasing Keith about it in the future, that maybe his future included Keith.

“Well, it’s good to hear from you, Shiro. We should-” he cuts off and Shiro can hear someone yelling in the background. “Sorry, that’s my roommate. I’ve got to go.”

“Okay. Talk to you later, then?”

“Yeah. You can text me or something. Bye Shiro.”

Shiro stares at the phone for a full minute after the call disconnects, wondering if he imagined the bit of fondness in Keith’s voice.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Dude, you’ve checked your phone ten times in the last seven minutes,” Matt complains, kicking Shiro in the knee for good measure.

He’s sprawled over Shiro’s couch, ostensibly there to remind Shiro that fun exists or something. Shiro had tuned him out when a text from Keith had come in.

He grabs Matt’s ankle before he can deliver another kick. “I do have friends other than you.”

“Since when? I’m hurt and betrayed, Shiro. Hurt and betrayed.” Matt yanks his foot free and sits up. “And from the way you’re checking that thing obsessively these days and grinning at it, I’d say you have a crush, not a new friend.”

Shiro can feel his face heating up and knows Matt will sense the blood in the water.

“You do! I can’t believe you haven’t told me already!” Matt crows. “Katie’s been giving me the dirt on watching her roommate crush on someone, which is hilarious because I was starting to think her roommate was part robot or something for all the emotion I’d seen from him. But now I can have stories of my own!”

“You know, telling me that you’re going to immediately spill my secrets is not the best incentive for me to tell you anything.”

Shiro types out a text while Matt mulls this over.

To Keith [9:43 pm] : I regret ever befriending Matt.

To Keith [9:43 pm] : Not really, but he’s being obnoxious.

From Keith [9:44 pm] : know the feeling. must be a matt thing, know an obnoxious matt too

To Keith [9:45 pm] : Definitely a Matt thing, then.

“Oh come on, Shiro. Does he at least know you’re interested?”

“No, and I’m not telling him,” Shiro says. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated like he’s dating someone else or complicated like you can’t get your head out of your ass?”

“Just complicated.”

How the hell could he explain the fact that Keith was the guy he’d crushed on in high school and then missed for years and then called out of the blue? He is both a familiar presence and a stranger and Shiro isn’t even sure where he is living these days or what he looks like now.

(He remembers the ink-spill hair that never stayed in place and a pair of eyes the color of the sky at dusk and a smile that could knock the breath out of him better than a punch. He thinks those things at least won’t have changed with the years.)

(He remembers the way it always felt like he was too big for his body when Keith was around, the way his heart got lodged in his throat when those starlight eyes met his, and the way he would ramble to him and hope that the right words would spill out to tell Keith what he meant to him.)

(He remembers that Keith never seemed to catch on to his feelings or return them.)

(Sometimes when he’s texting Keith he feels like he’s sixteen and again and half in love with the boy with more jagged edges than smooth. Shiro wonders how the years have weathered down those edges, if he’s still going to get cut when he reaches out.)

To Keith [9:48pm] : Doing anything fun tonight? Hot Friday night date or anything?

From Keith [9:49 pm] : pft no. watching some dumb sci-fi show with my roommate. she insists that my pop culture knowledge is pathetic

From Keith [9:50 pm] : i really don’t think i’ve been missing out

To Keith [9:51 pm] : What show??

From Keith [9:51 pm] : galaxy garrison

To Keith [9:52 pm] : I love that show!!!!

From Keith [9:52 pm] : nerd

To Keith [9:53 pm] : And proud of it :) :)

“Oh my god, you’re so gone on phone boy,” Matt groans. “Please tell me he’s cuter than your last crush.”

Shiro hesitates. “He’s beautiful,” he says finally, knowing it’s the truth despite not having seen Keith in a decade.

“You’re an irredeemable sap. I need alcohol for this.” Matt pushes himself to his feet and heads to the cabinet Shiro keeps his liquor in. “And you need alcohol so you’ll tell me about phone boy.”

From Keith [9:55 pm] : my roommate is threatening to disembowel me with a spoon if i keep texting during the show so, goodnight

From Keith [9:55 pm] : she also says to tell you that you have good taste in shows, which i personally think is debatable. i witnessed you nerd out about too many terrible animes

To Keith [9:57 pm] : Rude.

To Keith [9:58 pm] : Matt broke out the alcohol so it’s just as well. I can’t be trusted with my phone when there’s alcohol flowing. Night, Keith.

Shiro powers off his phone after sending the text and accepts the glass Matt presses into his hand.

“Spill,” Matt says, settling back on the couch crosslegged.

Shiro sips on his drink. “Not going to accept the explanation of complicated?”

“Not a chance in hell, my man. Who is he?”

“It’s this guy I knew back in high school. I, um, I found his number a couple weeks ago and called him.”

“Like, you looked up his number and just cold called him?”

“No, I found his number when I was cleaning out those boxes in my closet. I didn’t actually think he’d have the same number after ten years, honestly,” Shiro says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Okay, this is weird, but your life is generally weird so we’ll go with it,” Matt says. “Did you have a crush on him back then, too?”

Shiro nods.

Matt lets out a low whistle. “Have you been nursing a ten year crush? That’s impressive, Shiro.”

“It’s embarrassing. I haven’t even seen him since high school!”

“This is some kind of soulmate shit. I better be the best man at your wedding.”

“You’ve already pointed out that I don’t have other friends to be your competition,” Shiro says with a laugh, hoping to shift the conversation.

“True, true. No one can live up to me. Now, I’m going to kick your ass at Mario Kart while you fantasize about your dream wedding to phone boy.” Matt makes a face. “What’s his name? Phone boy is a terrible nickname, even for me.”

Shiro drains the rest of his drink before answering. “Keith. His name is Keith.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

To Pidgeon [11:21 pm] : pidge i have an important question

To Pidgeon [11:21 pm] : this is vital

To Pidgeon [11:24 pm] : answer your favorite brother katie

From Pidgeon [11:25 pm] : you’re my only brother which means you’re my least favorite

To Pidgeon [11:26 pm] : is your roommate still crushing on his phone friend???

From Pidgeon [11:27 pm] : this is what you interrupted my netflix marathon for?

From Pidgeon [11:27 pm] : you’re dead to me

From Pidgeon [11:27 pm] : also yes. it’s disgusting. i had to threaten him to make him stop texting mystery man and pay attention to the GG marathon

To Pidgeon [11:28 pm] : this has been going on for two weeks, right?

From Pidgeon [11:28 pm] : yes. get to the point.

To Pidgeon [11:29 pm] : this is incredible

To Pidgeon [11:29 pm] : i’m 95% sure that keith’s mystery man is shiro. our best friends are pining over each other

To Pidgeon [11:30 pm] : we have to get them together

Matt waits a few minutes for his sister to answer, concerned that it’s taking her so long. He grins when his phone lights up with an incoming call.

“Hello sister dear.”

“What the hell, Matt! You can’t drop that kind of information when I’m sitting right next to Keith and can’t scream about it!”

“How was I supposed to know the location of your roommate?” Matt complains.

“I told you we were marathoning Galaxy Garrison tonight.”

“Whatever. But seriously, Pidge, Keith and Shiro.”

“How do you know that Shiro is Keith’s mystery man?” Pidge asks, voice soft but full of glee. Matt figures she’s trying to keep Keith from overhearing.

“Because I finally got Shiro to tell me about his mystery man that he’s been texting for a couple of weeks. He went all gooey eyed and finally told me that his name was Keith. The timeline is too perfect.”

“We need confirmation before we do anything,” Pidge says. “How did they even meet? Keith isn’t telling me shit.”

“Apparently they knew each other like ten years ago when they were in high school. Shiro was crushing on him back then and based on the tragic look on his face and the way he keeps saying this thing with Keith is complicated, he probably thinks that Keith doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Ugh. Keith goes all starry-eyed when he looks at his phone. It’s gross. He definitely feels the same,” Pidge says. “And so, they randomly got in touch after ten years?”

“Shiro found his old number and decided to try and call it and found out Keith never changed it. I have so much teasing material for my best man speech, it’s insane.”

“Okay, we can’t get ahead of ourselves. We still need to confirm that they are texting each other,” Pidge reminds him.

The siblings are quiet for a moment, plotting.

“Text me next time you see Shiro texting Keith. We can confirm through text timing.”

“If our best friends would actually talk to us, this would be so much easier,” Matt whines. “We could have gotten them through this pining stage without so much pain on our parts.”

“Shut up, you’re enjoying this,” Pidge says.

“I am. I can’t wait to see how this plays out.”

“They’re going to murder us when they find out we’re plotting to get them together.”

“Shiro wouldn’t hurt me,” Matt says.

“Keith would.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair. Luckily he is your roommate and not mine.”

Pidge snorts. “That’s not going to stop him.”

“Hopefully he’ll be so happy to be in Shiro’s arms that he’ll forget about murdering me.”

“Live in hope, Matt, live in hope.”

She hangs up and Matt has to admire her talent at getting in the last word. The student has definitely surpassed the master there.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Pidge walks up behind Keith while he’s texting on the couch.

“If you don’t stop trying to read over my shoulder I’ll only buy snacks you hate when I go to the store tomorrow,” he warns, not looking up.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Should’ve known I couldn’t out-ninja the ninja.” Pidge settles on the other end of the couch with a huff. She stares at him until he looks up at her. She grins. “Texting your mystery man? Did I make you go into withdrawal last night when I made you stop talking to him?”

Keith rolls his eyes.

“Come on, you’ve barely told me anything. I’m dying here, Keith.”

“Yes, I’m texting him. Although I would expect a better nickname for him from you.” He looks back down at his phone, a small smile flitting across his face as he tapped out a reply.

“You could just tell me his name.”

“Not happening. You’d start cyberstalking him.”

“Not if you told me not to!”

Keith shoots her a disbelieving look.

“Okay, fine, I would. But I wouldn’t share my info with you if you told me not to. Unless he was a major creep or something, I guess,” Pidge admits.

“Yeah. Not giving you his name. Besides, he’s not completely a stranger.”

It takes all of Pidge’s self-control to not sit bolt upright. Keith will definitely clam up if she shows too much interest in this particular line of conversation. “Oh? Have you met mystery man in person?”

“Kind of.”

“Keith, you’ve either met someone in person or you haven’t.”

He groans and slumps down in his seat, letting his phone drop into his lap. “You’re going to laugh at me.”

“Dude, this is not something I’d laugh at you about. Promise.” She crosses her heart so he knows she’s serious, prompting another sigh.

“Okay, the thing is I knew this guy ten years ago, back in high school. I haven’t seen him since then.”

“And the two of you randomly reconnected?” Pidge asks, wanting Keith’s side of the story. Her fingers were itching to text Matt confirmation that Shiro was Keith’s mystery man but listening to her friend is much higher priority.

“He found my number when he was cleaning or something and decided to see if it still worked. I thought it was another of those political calls and answered and may have threatened him.” Keith’s cheeks are turning pink.

“Classic,” Pidge says, nodding. “He didn’t hang up on you though?”

“Nope.”

She pushes her glasses up her nose. “So, did you have as big of a crush on him back in high school as you do now?”

Keith buries his face in his hands. “This is so dumb.”

“No it’s not, it’s cute.” Pidge scoots closer and rests her hand on Keith’s knee. “Hey, it’s not dumb. I’ve never seen you get so blushy and nervous about someone before. I’m sure he’s great.”

“He is, but it’s still dumb.”

“Why?”

Keith looks up and meets her eye for a moment before his gaze focuses over her shoulder. “I had the most obvious crush on him back then. I think literally everyone in the school knew and he never said anything about it.”

“Maybe he’s just oblivious?”

“I think he was just being nice or something. He definitely didn’t feel the same way and I’m pretty sure he’s just being nice now. Again.”

Pidge claps him on the shoulder. “Keith, my man, people don’t just randomly call a ten year old number hoping to reconnect with someone who was just a friend.”

“He does. It’s obnoxiously in character,” he says, lips tilting into a small smile.

“I think seeing him in person would answer so many questions,” Pidge says. “I’m going to guess you’ve filled out a bit since high school. Ten bucks says your mystery man forgets how to speak when he lays eyes on you.”

“Pidge…”

“Full on thirsty, can’t think or speak,” she says, doubling down. “Ask him out for coffee, prove me wrong.”

“What if he’s not interested at all?” Keith’s voice is uncertain in a way Pidge hasn’t heard in years.

She makes sure her voice is steady and certain. “Then you have coffee with a friend and you have the answer you’re looking for instead of agonizing over it.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t know where he lives. He could be on the other side of the country.”

Pidge knows a last-gasp argument when she hears one. “He might live in town. He’s at least in the same time zone if the way you two text all day is any indication.”

“If this doesn’t work out, I expect a full tub of the chocolatiest ice cream you can find,” Keith says after a few seconds.

“Heartbreak ice cream and whatever you want to watch on Netflix for a whole weekend,” Pidge promises. “But I think this is going to go better than you think.”

“Since when are you an optimist?” Keith asks as he picks his phone back up.

“Since I got tired of you mooning over your mystery man and going back to your emo roots.”

Keith rolls his eyes and then focuses on his phone. He taps out a message and then drops it.

“Done. Told him we should grab coffee if he lives in town.”

“I’m proud of you,” Pidge says. “Let me know what he says.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Keith stares down at his phone, mouth dry. “Pidge.”

“Yeah?”

“He lives in town.”

“Alright!” Pidge gives him a high five and then waltzes off to her room, leaving him to text Shiro in peace.

From Shiro [6:54 pm] : I can’t believe we live in the same city and haven’t run into each other!

To Shiro [6:55 pm] : it’s a big city….

From Shiro [6:57 pm] : But still a small world. ;D

To Shiro [6:57 pm] : ….i hope you have that lion king song stuck in your head for days. it’s what you deserve.

From Shiro [6:59 pm] : Rude. So, would Saturday work for coffee? Early afternoon?

To Shiro [7:01 pm] : yeah, that works for me. do you know altea brews?

From Shiro [7:02 pm] : Yes!! That’s one of my favorite spots. Allura is the only person I trust to make chai lattes. Told you it was a small world.

To Shiro [7:02 pm] : she’s the one with the white hair right?

From Shiro [7:03 pm] : Yes. Matt had a crush on her way back which is why we became regulars at the place. Now we’re all friends and tease Matt mercilessly.

From Shiro [7:04 pm] : Sometimes we get free pastries, it’s the best.

To Shiro [7:06 pm] : saturday at 1?

From Shiro [7:06 pm] : Perfect! I can’t wait to see you :) :) :)

Keith grins down at his phone, hope finally flaring bright behind his sternum as he looks at Shiro’s excessive smiley faces.

To Shiro [7:07 pm] : looking forward to it too

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Matt, which shirt should I wear?” Shiro says into his phone, staring at the contents of his closet that were now strewn across his bed.

“Are you going to insist on wearing one of your vests?”

“They are warm and comfortable and yes I am.”

Matt sighs. “That blue-silver shirt and the black vest. And wear those dark jeans I got you for Christmas. They make your ass look good.”

“Am I overthinking this?” Shiro asks. He roots through the pile of shirts until he finds the one Matt mentioned. He’s already set out the black vest since it’s his favorite.

“Yes. So much.”

“What if he’s still not interested? This could be a friendly meet up.” Shiro puts the phone on speaker and starts to change. “He might not like who I am now.”

“Shiro, he’s going to take one look at you and melt into a puddle on the floor. And he seems to still like you just fine if he invited you out to coffee and keeps texting you.”

Shiro stills in the middle of buttoning his shirt and looks down at the gleaming silver of his right hand. “I haven’t told him about the accident. He doesn’t know about the arm.”

“If that bothers him then he isn’t worth a damn second of your time,” Matt says firmly. “Now, focus back on all the fluttery feelings.”

“Yes sir.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Keith can feel his heart hammering and he hasn’t even left the apartment yet.

“Pidge, I can pick out my own clothes,” he grouses, even as he approves her choice.

“I’m winning those ten bucks. Dude is going to swallow his tongue.” She shoves a pair of jeans in his arms. “Wear that ridiculous red jacket you love so much.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” he argues.

“It’s a cropped jacket which makes it inherently ridiculous. But it also gives off gay vibes which is good and somehow makes your legs look even longer.”

“You’ve put way too much thought into this.”

“I’m helping.”

“Yeah, yeah. Scram, I need to change.”

He waits until she’s almost out of the room to speak again. “But thanks Pidge, I really do appreciate it.”

“I know.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Shiro is fifteen minutes early. He debates for a minute whether to go ahead and order or if he should wait outside. Allura glaring at him through the window makes his decision for him.

“I’ve already got a chai latte rung up,” she says when he walks in the door, the little bell announcing his entrance. Her smile is a little too wide to be reassuring. “Matt called me and told me you have a date.”

Shiro groans. “It may or may not be a date.”

“Schrodinger’s date, got it. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“His name’s Keith. He’s actually the one who suggested to have coffee here so you might know him.”

“Oooh, I think I know who you’re talking about. He knows Lance.”

“How is Lance?” Shiro asks, raising an eyebrow as he hands over his card to pay for his drink.

Allura blushes. “Good, he’s good.”

He grins. “Going to ask him out finally or are you still making him sweat it out?”

“I’m still thinking about it,” she says. “Now, go claim that corner table before someone else does. I’ll bring your coffee over.”

“Everyone is so bossy today,” Shiro grumbles.

Allura laughs. “We’re always bossy, you’re just usually worse than we are.”

Shiro rolls his eyes and goes to sit down where he was told to. He bounces his leg and checks his phone to see if Keith has texted. He hasn’t, which is expected. There are still ten minutes until he’s supposed to be here.

Allura brings him his drink and gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before walking away. He takes a sip of his latte but barely tastes it. His fingers beat out a nervous beat on the table as he wonders how much Keith has changed. He thought Keith was beautiful back when they were teenagers and he fully expects that ten years won’t have altered his opinion on that particular fact.

He looks down to check his phone again. Five minutes. He opens his texts with Keith, just to double check the time they’d agreed on and is in the middle of scrolling up when the bell over the door rings.

Shiro looks up and his mouth goes dry.

Standing just inside the door is Keith. The years look good on him. He’s taller and his hair is a little bit longer than he used to wear but it’s definitely Keith. Shiro lets his gaze rake over the man, lingering on the way the cropped red jacket makes his shoulders look broad and his waist look tiny. His eyes crawl over the endless length of leg wrapped in a pair of jeans that look painted on.

Shiro wants to peel them off with his teeth.

Keith looks over at him and Shiro is pretty sure he feels his soul ascend to the astral plane. He’s so fucking gorgeous and so incredibly his type that Shiro feels specifically targeted by the universe.

It’s still up in the air whether he is going to thank or curse the universe for this fact.

He stands and walks towards Keith.

“Hey,” Keith says when he gets close enough. His smile is soft and shy and Shiro is going to pass out if this keeps up.

“Hey. You look, um, you look really good, Keith. It’s good to see you.” Shiro says. He’s proud of himself for not stammering.

Keith’s smile shifts into something more teasing. “You’re rambling again, Shiro.”

“Shut up.” He pitches forward and pulled Keith into a hug.

The moment Keith is wrapped up in Shiro’s solid warmth, he gives up any hope of staying rational. This singular experience is the best thing to happen to him in possibly ever and he is going to savor it.

Shiro smells like wool and spice and Keith doesn’t want to pull away.

When Shiro’s grip loosens, Keith steps back and looks up at him. “It’s good to see you too, Shiro. And you’re, um, you’re also looking good.”

It is quite possibly the understatement of the century.

Shiro is built and somehow makes a sweater vest look hot and it’s just completely unfair. The white shock of hair hanging over his forehead is new, as is the scar across his nose, but his eyes are the same.

Keith fell in love with those eyes and the smile that is currently spreading over Shiro’s face ten years ago. He’s pretty sure he’s falling again right now.

For a moment, all he can think is Pidge better have that ice cream ready if this goes bad, but then a blush spreads across Shiro’s cheeks and Keith feels hope start to bloom again.

“Did you already order?” Keith asks.

“Yeah. Kinda got here early,” Shiro admits. “Allura saw me loitering outside and made me come in and order.”

Keith laughs. “I’ll go get my order in and meet you at the table.”

Shiro looks over Keith’s shoulder and rolls his eyes. “I think she’s already in the middle of making your drink. You might as well come sit down.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t know they knew my order but alright.”

Keith admires the way Shiro’s jeans fit as he follows him to the corner table.

Shiro waits until they’re sitting down and he can fidget with his latte before speaking again. “I know I already said this, but it’s really good to see you again.”

“I’m glad I never changed my number,” Keith says. He opens his mouth to try and figure out how to tell Shiro how glad he is that they’ve reconnected but Allura shows up before he finds the words.

“Caramel mocha,” she says, setting the drink in front of Keith with an overly bright smile. “And a sampler plate of pastries, on the house.”

She flashes another smile and then disappears.

Keith looks between his drink and Shiro, brows furrowed. “That was… weird.”

Shiro groans and drops his eyes to his half-full mug, feeling the nerves flutter through him. “Matt may have called and told Allura that I had a date. She thinks she’s helping.”

“I’m getting free coffee out of it, so I can’t complain,” Keith says. He is faintly worried that Shiro might be able to hear the way his heart is pounding. He waits until Shiro looks back up at him. “Thanks for agreeing to the date, Shiro.”

Shiro’s eyes go wide and hopeful. He takes a deep breath. “I’ve wanted to take you on a date since the first time I saw you,” Shiro admits.

Keith feels the words like a punch. “No way.”

Shiro’s smiles and reaches out to put a hand over one of Keith’s. “It’s true.” He huffs out a laugh. “I had the biggest crush on you.”

“You idiot, why didn’t you ever tell me?” Keith asks, voice edging close to a whine. “Literally everyone in our class knew I was gone over you.”

Shiro sits up straight like he was just shocked by a live wire. “You were?”

“Um, yeah. I wasn’t particularly subtle.”

Shiro grins. “So, this is a real date, right? Ten years later than when we could have started going on dates?”

“Yeah.” Keith squeezes his hand.

Shiro almost jumps again when he realizes that he’d reached out to Keith with his metal hand.

Keith catches the panicked look flit across Shiro’s face as he looks at their hands. “The metal is a cool look,” he offers, trying to stay nonchalant. He’s curious but he’s more than willing to wait for Shiro to be ready to share, one day. “Do you actually feel pressure and everything?”

Shiro nods. “Pressure and temperature, to a degree.”

“That’s really cool,” Keith says with a decisive nod. “I work with enough engineers to be thoroughly impressed.”

Shiro recognizes the opening to change the topic and takes it gratefully. “What do you do?”

“I work for a small aerospace company,” Keith says. “I help build a lot of things that go really fast and then help test them out.”

Shiro chuckles. “You did always like speed.”

“What about you? What are you up to these days?” Keith asks. He picks up his drink and takes a sip.

“Mostly consulting for aerospace companies, actually,” Shiro says with a laugh. “I keep telling you, it’s a sm-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Shirogane,” Keith warns.

“Fine, fine. But it’s true.”

They spend a few minutes swapping stories about work and digging into the pastries, both of them relaxing as they fall into a easy rapport.

Keith laughs around a mouthful of food. “Pidge would absolutely murder anyone who tried that,” he says.

Shiro freezes. “Wait, Pidge?”

“Yeah, my roommate. Pretty sure I’ve told you about her,” Keith says, puzzled.

“You never mentioned her name. But Pidge? As in Katie Holt, Pidge?”

“You know Pidge?”

“I’m good friends with her older brother,” Shiro says, starting to connect the dots.

Keith isn’t far behind. “Wait, the Matt you’ve mentioned is Matt Holt?”

Shiro nods.

“There’s no way they didn’t put all this together,” Keith says. “Pidge didn’t push for your name like she normally would.”

“And Matt was far too chill about everything,” Shiro agrees.

“I’m going to kill both of them,” Keith says.

“It’s Pidge and Matt, this could have gone so much worse,” Shiro points out. “Like, so much worse.”

Keith considers this. “You’re right. I’m still going to scare the shit out of Matt.”

“He probably deserves it.”

Shiro’s smile tilts into something mischievous. “I think at this point I can safely say it’s a small world.”

Keith closes his eyes. “I hate you so much.”

“Keith,” Shiro whines, drawing out his name.

He opens his eyes and is about to reassure Shiro when his gaze zeroes in on a security camera in the corner that seems out of place.

“Shiro, you’re in here a lot, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Don’t turn around and look, but is there usually a security camera in the corner behind you?”

Shiro thinks about it. “No.”

“Want to bet that the Holts recruited Allura and set this camera up?”

“They definitely did,” Shiro says, rubbing at his temples. “Allura directed me over to this table when I came in.”

“Our friends are the worst.”

“Want to lose the Big Brother set up and go get some food?” Shiro offers. “We can plan our revenge for them spying on us and not introducing us at any point before now.”

“Will this count as a second date?”

Shiro shrugs. “Sure.”

“Good, because I have no qualms about making out at the end of a second date,” Keith says with a lazy smirk.

Shiro turns bright red and he thinks he manages to stutter out an answer but he’s not entirely sure it is coherent.

Keith stands and holds out a hand to Shiro. He takes it, twining their fingers together. Keith flips off the camera and then leads Shiro out the door to start their second date.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

From Keith [3:32 pm] : tell your brother that he should run the next time he sees me

Pidge cackles and leans over to show Matt the text from Keith. “Told you he was going to take it out on you.”

“Why do you get to be off the hook?” Matt whines.

“Because I’m his favorite Holt sibling by far.”

“I bet Shiro gives you his Disappointed™look.”

Pidge makes a face. “That’s almost worse than Keith potentially trying to murder me.”

Allura sticks her head into the back room of Altea Brews where the Holts had set up the date surveillance. “They’re gone. Looked like the date went well though!”

“We’ll make sure you’re invited to the wedding,” Matt says. “I already called being Shiro’s best man.”

“Did they already know each other?” Allura asks. “They seemed more comfortable with each other than most people on first dates are.”

Pidge laughs. “It’s a long story, Allura.”

Matt nods. “Soulmate shit, I swear.”

She raises an eyebrow at them. “I want the full story after closing. Now, out of my store room.”

[unholyhelbig]

Prompt- Beca is a human trying to finish college and hopefully move to LA with her friend Stacie. Chloe is a demon looking for some fun and ends up being smitten with the DJ.

[A/N: Alright… I may have gone too far with this one. But I was feeling it, and might continue feeling it for a mini-series.] 

She tilted her head back, letting the hot alcohol dribble past her lips. It wasn’t painful, not anymore. She could actually enjoy the taste- even if it made her throat tingle. The drink had a way of warming her, making her feel human in a routine that could be described as nothing more but mundane.

Chloe Beale had fallen into mankind perfectly; it was fun, at first, studying the way humans interacted with each other. How they melded into their own vices. Each human had a motive, she figured earlier on, some were better than others, but the driving focus was common; satisfaction.

In 1864 she had learned that people have differences. They fight when things get bad, and when freedoms are quelled. She also learned that it was easy for humans to turn on one another in a quick second. The difference between grey and blue still ringing thick in her ears to this very day.

In the early 1920’s she discovered that indulgence was a thing. That people would die for simple habits and drown their sorrows in extravagant parties and plastic little cards… the years after the 20’s, she recalled, were a simple and cold truth that left her desolate and lonely.  

During the 70’s Chloe figured that love was a thing human’s strive for. They would pull each other closer in the cold of Kansas City nights like the rancid scent of construction and garbage wasn’t clinging to their clothes. She watched from a distance as a man pulled his own coat away from his heavy frame before draping it over a woman who already carried her own fabric close.

It wasn’t until the late 90’s when she knew affection could be something more than just a simple touch here and there. That connection had something to do with wanting to stay tangled up in the silk sheets after a quick moment of pleasure. That it was not only okay but normal, to pull her partner closer after a hapless night of drinking.

Chloe also experienced an undeniable pain two years later- something she didn’t take lightly. It was nothing akin to hell, it was past the fire that she was forged from and the lessons that she had learned before. Something that licked at her hand with blue and cruel flames as her chest ached with a crazy edge of pain.

She missed her.

The bed was empty for a while, and so were the glass bottles that lined the shelves of her studio apartment somewhere in the Mid-West. She contemplated writing everything out in her dark kitchen. She would roll up the paper and slip it into one of the empty containers of old crow before throwing it into rolling waves that crashed into the sand. But she didn’t live near the ocean, so she scrapped that idea.

Today, Chloe knew she hadn’t only fallen into Mankind, she had stumbled into it full force.

The music from the club was pounding against the inside of her brain and beating close to her eardrums like every single inch of her was alive with the sound. She couldn’t even tell what song this was, or if it had even started out as something that carried a tune; not it morphed into a mess of pumps timed out to the strobe lights that hung from the ceiling.

She was more attune to lonely bars stranded high in the mountains. Ones that had a small glowing jukebox in the corner. The red and blue lights morphed into a pale violet against the peanut-shell-coated floor. It made drinking a hell of a lot easier when she could actually hear the sound of drowning out her thoughts.

Chloe supposed that this place was okay too.

It was in the depths of New Orleans. The French Quarter was wreaking with different forms of sage, and middle-aged tour guides shoving uncomfortable contacts into their eyes to give them a red sort of tint. Demons. She scoffed to herself each time she saw one of them- no class, but then again, here she was.

Chloe wiped her thumb against the corner of her lip, catching any drops that had found a way from her grasp. She didn’t find any, but it was a terrible habit. One that carried her into the night.

Spring Break was an easy time for her to fold into the madness.

It was almost as if she didn’t have to insight the chaos. It always started on its own. Her job as a harbinger of evil had decreased greatly as the world aged. Human’s found their own way to muck things up, to find accuse in every statement and draw their own attention to the fractures in society.

Tonight, she kept her eyes on the DJ stand. Not so much the man that held an obnoxiously large pair of headphones to the side of his head as he made sense of the jumbled beats. But the woman who looked on with disdain next to her.

She followed the dusky sightline that was interrupted with a few huffs here and there; a young thing that had deep chestnut hair falling over her slumped shoulders. She was dressed in black, almost blending into the night if it weren’t for the lit up white counter that shaded her sharp features like a full moon on a smog coated night.

The girl was tapping her fingers on the edge of her empty glass in annoyance. She almost canceled out the rest of her surroundings, Chloe tracing her own features without the woman looking up. She carried the same energy that Chloe tried to desperately to leave in the early 2000’s.

“Please tell me you didn’t drag yourself to a club to glare at an ex-boyfriend?” She said.

“Huh?” The woman snapped her eyes to Chloe’s. Blue matching even bluer. “Oh, no- I”

She contemplated explaining herself, her bottom lip snagged against her teeth. She raked her eyes up Chloe’s frame, the tight-fitting jeans and equally as snug white t-shirt that clung to the woman. It was simple, a leathered jacket rolled up at the sleeves to protect from the cold air meant to balance the heat of a dance floor.

“I would never date someone who mixes music like this” She concluded, waving her hand in the air “I don’t care that we’re in New Orleans. This much trumpet is a crime.”

Chloe scoffed, barely heard over the music as she lifted her empty glass and clinked it with the stranger. She was careful not to let her hand brush against exposed skin. It wasn’t dangerous, not in the sense that this woman would fall to her demise as twelve years bad luck plagued her every waking moment.

The woman offered up a snide smile, dipping her chin slightly. “You don’t look like you’re having much fun.”

“Oh, me?” She raised her brow “This is three drink, Chloe. You have to stick around until I hit the five-drink mark. That girl is a boatload of fun.”

“Is she now?” The stranger called over the blasting music. She almost cringed as her words ripped at her throat. “Well, does three drink Chloe know somewhere quieter to get a buzz?”

In fact, she did. She knew the city like the back of her hand. It had grown immensely in the time she had been planted on this earth. The brick buildings reached to the starry skies as twinkling lights stretched across alleyways. It gave New Orleans the distinct advantage of being stuck so solemnly in time. Aging in its own sense when it came to the nightclub scene, but still carrying the legend and charm.

She lifted her chin and made the move to stand up. This woman followed almost too willingly. She had been nursing her own drink, that much clear by the way her attention focused so fully on the sound instead of the prowess of getting wasted.

There was an immediate heir of calm the second they walked from the club. A line still wrapped around the brick edge, and a bouncer eyed them silently- but it was nothing Chloe hadn’t grown used to. Her ears were ringing, and her breath was prominent in the night air.

A brass trumpet plugged with a silencer echoed its own rendition of jazz. The sound bounced off the bricks as Chloe let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding onto. She could see the girl more clearly, memorize her facial features and take in the pure beauty of her when not under the harsh lights of the club.

“God, talk about a way to get a headache.” She brought her fingers delicately up to her temple, her voice softer now. “This is a lot better-I” Again, she stilled, flicking her eyes up. “I’m sorry.”

She knit her eyebrows together, lilting her head to the side as she closed her eyes. Chloe watched. It wasn’t like she was enjoying the silence. Instead, she was placing something, something over the dull buzz of excited teenagers ready to produce their fake ID to a man that had a neck tattoo.

“It’s Blue in Green,” Chloe finally said, a bit of a smile pulling at her lips.

“Miles Davis,” She got an excited look in her eyes as she rocked back and forth on her heels. The song had escaped her, the trumpet calling her name, it’s brass interworking nothing to overlook. The stranger swallowed thickly “That was rude of me, I just… I knew there was a reason I liked New Orleans.”

“You have an ear for music.” She said.

“If you could dare call it that.” The woman glowered, breathing in as the street performer drew out his notes. “Want to get a closer look?”

Chloe nodded, short and sweet. She would love nothing more, finding herself once again listening to the sounds of her footfalls against the near-empty streets of a city paused. Mankind was quiet tonight- quiet and loud all at once.    

[themonkeycabal]

FAM! Please tell us - when is the next Great Installment of WRLWA coming out?? We've still got Ultron and Civil War, with Panther and Infinity War just around the corner. The is tied with my favourite fic series ever, and I've been dying for some updates. Any hints??

Hey fam, I hear you like updates.

Next story is Ultron and the Date, and here’s the first chapter for you (I’m not sure when there will be more, sorry, but I’m getting there):

Darcy liked London. It was old and new, and big and small, and all that contradictory jazz. But, somehow the contradictions just made the city feel human scale to her; like it wasn’t some monolithic mass of stone and steel. New York was still a little overwhelming sometimes. Though, she did come from the land of vast Southern California sprawl — not exactly the coziest or friendliest of human habitats. But, that was really beside the point.

At the moment, what she liked most about London was that it was thousands of miles away from family drama.

The Seattle branch of the tree were in a tizzy. People, it seemed, were miffed. Possibly even vexed.

Calling home had become a real and deep regret, and Darcy was trying not to listen, but her mother was pressing on.

“Marcia isn’t bending. She says it has to be at that resort; she and her fiancé have some deal with the owners. Your grandmother is pitching a fit.”

“Oh no. It’s the end of the world. How terrible,” Darcy murmured and kicked her feet out, lounging back on an uncomfortable bench overlooking the Thames.

It was a nice day. The sun was out and the air was nearly warm. Warm for London, she supposed. But, definitely better than New York sticky. So, yes, it was a nice day. Perfect to get outside and do outside things.

She and Jane arrived in the city two days earlier. And today, while Jane and her mother were bonding over academic journals and fighting over Jane’s wardrobe and how she basically still mostly shopped at Goodwill, Darcy fled the apartment to wander around a little. It was a fine time to reacquaint herself with the area, get her bearings, and give her own mother a call. Such a mistake.

“I know, I know,” Rebecca Lewis continued. “But, she’ll make the trip hell for all of us if somebody doesn’t appease her. According to Jo, it’s nearly war as it is. Uncle Larry’s on Marcia’s side, aunt Ruth’s on mom’s. It could get ugly. So, have you RSVP’d for Marcia’s wedding yet? That might win us back a point.”

“Are you kidding?” Darcy rolled her eyes to the sky and gripped her phone a little tighter, like she could throttle the drama out of it.

Francine Perlman was not a grandmother given to displays of warmth or cheeriness or whatever grandmothers are supposed to be like. She wasn’t a sweet, round, little granny who smelled like spices and made cookies. She was a thin, brittle woman, in both stature and personality. Sour and never pleased, and doubly never pleased with Darcy.

Darcy and her grandmother didn’t get along, and hadn’t since, as far as Darcy knew, the day she was born. Francine was never cruel, never outright rude, but there was a definite chill towards Darcy that her other cousins didn’t seem to get. And it wasn’t just because of that one time Darcy set her grandmother’s dining table on fire. That was an accident, and Francine was unpleasant before that anyway.  

The mystery of Darcy’s biological father — because Rebecca refused to tell and no amount of persuasion or scorn was ever enough to get her to spill, because Darcy’s mom was badass, thank you very much — was the biggest sore spot for the woman. Francine once made the mistake of referring to Darcy as a bastard in her great-grandmother Perlman’s hearing. It was a flipping shame that Darcy’d been too young to appreciate or remember the look on Francine’s face at a dressing down from her own mother. Seeing that again would totally be worth the pain of time traveling. Maybe.

Anyway, Darcy didn’t think that her presence would tilt the scales towards familial peace with Francine.

“Do I have to?” she asked in a tone that most definitely wasn’t a ‘whine’.

Rebecca was silent for a moment, probably steadying herself to deal with a whining daughter, and then she let out a long breath. “No, you don’t have to, but it would be really great if you did.”

Darcy felt her nose wrinkle with distaste and annoyance. She didn’t want to go, it was a pain in the ass, she liked to absolutely avoid the family drama, and being stuck in a mountain resort with the whole Perlman clan sounded like the opening to a horror movie. Unfortunately, she knew, without a doubt, that she’d cave and RSVP and whatnot. But, she was going to make her mother work for it.

“A destination wedding to the middle of the Cascades, in October,” she said, trying to make her voice as dry and bland as Coulson’s when he was being pointedly sarcastic.

“It’s only a couple hours from Seattle. And it’ll be beautiful. I looked the resort up, it’s really nice. Remodeled last year with a huge new spa. Amazing views. And it’ll be autumn. You like autumn.”

Darcy did like autumn. It was her favorite season when she was at Culver, and now that she lived in New York she’d gone all tourist-stupid in love with dramatic fall colors. The seasons really didn’t change like that in San Dimas. They had hot season, and not hot season, and mudslide season, and holy-shit-everything’s-on-fire season. But not autumn so much.

Still, she had to protest a little bit. “It’ll be cold and rainy.” Rubbing at her forehead, annoyed tension threatening to cause a headache, Darcy glared at not-at-all-cold-and-rainy London.  But, it wasn’t London’s fault, and she patted the bench beside her in apology.

“I always pictured Marcia as a June bride cliche,” Darcy continued after a moment. “And maybe at one of the fancy resorts on one of those islands out there. Like Duck Island, or whatever it’s called. Moose Island? Whatever. Just, wouldn’t have figured a mountain lodge in October. For real, did she hit her head recently?”

“There’s not a Duck Island,” Rebecca sighed.

“I feel confident there’s a Duck Island somewhere. But that’s not the point,” Darcy protested. “I’m serious. This is wildly out of character. Should we be worried? Has she joined a cult? Is she doing drugs? What does aunt Jo say about all this?”

“Jo is very excited for her daughter’s wedding,” her mother replied dryly. “I would be, too. In fact, I have extensive plans and when—”

“Don’t push me,” Darcy sniffed. “Oh! Could she be Hydra? Or her fiancé? What do we know about him? Has anybody run a background on this guy? Maybe this is a trap. Darn, looks like I’ll have to pass. For national security reasons, you understand. I am a very important asset.”

Her mother made a low, growling grumble sound. “You’re something, that’s for sure.”

“So rude.” Darcy pouted and petulantly knocked the toes of her shoes together while slouching down on the bench like a put-upon grade-schooler.

“Anyway,” Rebecca said, raising her voice above her daughter’s attempt to change the subject into absurdity. “Marcia and Ben negotiated an event deal on the rooms, but only if you book by August 10th. There was a plus one with your invitation, so maybe you’d rather get a suite?”

“Meh.”

“You could bring Steve,” she said with a leading and kind of pleading tone in her voice. Her mother was never going to give up her star-spangled dreams for her daughter, was she? “I think he might be able to charm even my mom.”

“Poor Steve, what did he do to deserve being sent on the Francine charm mission? It’s practically a suicide run.” Darcy snickered. “Besides, I think bringing Captain America would kind of upstage the bride, and I thought that was the biggest possible wedding faux pas of them all.”

“How about Tony?” It seemed like her mother was as desperate for a distraction as Darcy was herself. She must be, to suggest that. Tony would be a bored in ten minutes and disaster would follow. Bad enough Darcy anticipated being bored in twenty minutes. Nobody deserved two bored Starks at their wedding. Not even Marcia.

Darcy laughed out loud. “Speaking of upstaging. Though, you know, I bet he absolutely could charm Francine. Again, I don’t think Marcia would appreciate it and it would be our teen years all over again with the screaming and the door slamming and the brawl in the dining room.”

“And the paint bomb?”

Darcy shifted on the bench and winced. Technically she was still grounded from that incident, since, as she recalled, the terms of punishment were 'until you’re thirty, young lady!’. “I’ll leave the paint bomb at home.”

“Ah-ha!” Rebecca crowed. “Progress! Look at you, ready to let go of the kid arguments with your cousin, at long last. And peace falls across the land.”

Darcy snorted and felt a little aggravated because teenaged Marcia was the actual worst. Bossy, bitchy, snooty, and prissy. So, it’s not like the war had been Darcy’s fault. Nope, not at all. “Right, did you or did you not have an argument with aunt Jo last year about how she hogged the bathroom when you were kids? Like, actually yelling at each other.”

“Well, we were finally resolving that issue,” Rebecca told her. “Sometimes it takes a while. And anyway, I’m not judging, I’m just glad. Marcia has asked me twice if you’re coming. She’s waiting for your RSVP. She really wants you to be there.”

“To show off how together her life is while I’m still interning,” Darcy grumbled. She swore she heard Jane shout 'assistant’ in her head.

“Maybe, or maybe she genuinely wants to share the day with you. She’s not the same person she was when she was fifteen, and neither are you. Give her a chance.”

Blowing out a long breath, Darcy stuck her tongue out at her absent cousin and told her mom, “I don’t know. I’m up to my ears in things; I’m not sure if I’m in the mood for a destination wedding and Marcia’s Marcia-ness.”

“Okay, look at it this way,” Rebecca argued back doggedly, “why don’t you try to mend fences, you make the effort? And then if she’s an obnoxious diva, show-off, it’ll just make her look petty and you’ll look like the bigger person. You win.”

“That’s so manipulative, mom,” Darcy said admiringly.

“I know. Give it a shot. Or bring Tony. But, I’d really like you to be there.” And that was that. That was the firm mom-voice. That was the tone of a woman who would no longer accept 'no’. She’d try and make it palatable for Darcy, but the jig was up. “So would your dad. And your brother. And aunt Jo, and uncle Hugh. That’s five people you actually like. And your great uncle Larry, who will pull a quarter from behind your ear, because who doesn’t love that trick? Right? Come on.”

Darcy scoffed and kicked at a tuft of grass by her feet. “I’m 25, I doubt uncle Larry will try the coin trick.”

“I’m 48 and he tried it on me when I saw him two months ago at his granddaughter’s bat mitzvah. Just think, free money.”

“That’s a pretty big inducement for me. You know me too well.”

“Besides, who cares how together her life is? Good for her, I say. And, you know and I know that you’re not just an intern.”

“Oh sigh, mom, sigh,” Darcy told her with a touch of melodrama. Why did she think it was a good idea to call her mom?

“Are you cracking?” Rebecca asked. “I think you’re cracking. If you agree to crack, I won’t pull out guilt.”

“Fine,” Darcy moaned. God, not guilt. “Consider me cracked.”

Rebecca was good enough not to laugh or cackle or otherwise express her triumphant glee. “So, plus one ideas? Clint?”

“Clint’s a good option,” Darcy agreed readily enough. It was a sort of topic change that was at least more entertaining to think about than Marcia or her grandmother. “He’s fun, probably won’t be able to charm Francine, but he knows how to make an escape. And God knows he’s game for almost anything, no matter how awkward. And nothing screams awkward quite like a Perlman family civil war in the middle of the forest.”

“He’ll be a hit at passive-aggressive cocktail hour,” Rebecca laughed. “Any update since the proposal? We could make it a double wedding.”

“The joke proposal. No, mom.”

“Too bad. He’s cute.”

“He’s also got a weird thing with a hot Russian assassin,” Darcy pointed out with a little laugh. “So, Clint is firmly friend material.”

“Yeah, I remember. I like Natasha; I wouldn’t mind seeing her again. She’d be a nice plus one. Though, she and your grandmother would probably try to freeze each other to death with icy stares. But,” Rebecca’s voice dropped, quieting in a way that suggested a secret — a delicious secret, “what about Bucky Barnes? I hear things. I hear that maybe you’re going on a date.”

Darcy was silent for a moment, chilly surprise slipping down her spine. That was an unexpected conversational turn. One she wasn’t sure she was prepared for. “Who told you that?”

“Steve.”

That sounded bad. That sounded awkward. Her mom and Steve were chatting buddies? She’d never survive the nagging. “When are you talking to Steve?”

“Darcy, you leave your phone all over the place. Half the time when I call you, I end up talking to somebody else. They all pick up. I talk to Norse gods and secret agents more often than I talk to my daughter.” Rebecca made a frustrated sound and then let her breath out slowly before saying, “You can tell me these things, you do know that, right?”

Her mother had a point. She’d been desperate to talk to people about Bucky for a while, and she’d talked a little bit to Jane, a little bit to Phil, but for some reason she never thought of her mom. That felt kind of unfair. Some things were a little awkward for a mom talk, but not her weird mixed up head about Bucky.

“It’s just been a little overwhelming, is all,” she said, trying to explain to herself and her mom. “Like, everything that’s happened lately. I wasn’t not telling you, I just have a billion things going on.”

“Are you going to tell me now?”

“Sure. I mean, yeah, that would be good.” Darcy blew out a long breath and nodded once to herself. “Apparently we’re going dancing. I don’t know when; that’s his deal, but he said while I’m in London. He’s supposed to visit in a couple weeks. Anyway, he got crazy stoned like five months ago — inadvertently stoned, I mean; he’s not a stoner — and he asked me dancing and I thought it was just because he was, you know—”

“Stoned?” Rebecca guessed, maybe almost kind of laughing. Darcy ignored that.

“Yes! But then he asked when he wasn’t high. And I said yes. But, then I was like, is he asking because like I’m the only girl he knows? Which is the truth. Or because he actually likes me. I mean, I know he likes me, because we’re building a bar together and it was his idea. And we go to breakfast together sometimes, but in a friend way, not a romantical way.” She took a breath before jumping into the next run-on sentence.

“But, before we figured out the dancing thing, it was kidnappings and arrests — did I say arrests? It wasn’t a real arrest, and it was like five hours tops and I laughed at them the whole time because they had no legal leg to stand on so it was mostly annoying to everybody involved — and attacks on the tower and property acquisitions and unexpected bequests and … so many things! So, we haven’t gone dancing yet. Is it a date? I don’t know. I think he wants it to be.”

“Do you?”

“ … Maybe? Okay, I totally brought jewelry to London, okay? I haven’t bought a dress yet, but that’s just because I haven’t had time. I plan on going out this weekend, and actually, I should say, that Jane and I plan on going out this weekend, and there’s no way in hell she’d let me out of it, even if I wanted, but I don’t want out, so it’s fine. I’m sure we’ll have fun and she’ll make sure I get something suitable for kicking up my heels with a greatest generation assassin. So, I’m taking it seriously and I want to go dancing with him, and I’m just—”

“Oh sweetie,” her mom finally couldn’t pretend she wasn’t laughing.

“Don’t 'oh sweetie’ me,” Darcy grumbled and then paused. “Wow, I really do sound like Pepper sometimes.”

“I’m sure your father loves that.”

“Yeah, he always says it with this panicked look on his face.” It all made so much sense now. Anyway. “So, yes, I guess I’m going on a date.”

“Can I offer a piece of advice?”

Darcy hesitated for a moment, but, that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? “Go for it.”

“Just have fun. Don’t make it bigger than it has to be.”

Not helpful. “That’s what Phil and Jane said.”

“You told the Director before you told me?” Her mom sounded hurt and like this might be something she’d hold over Darcy’s head for the rest of forever unless Darcy could head it off.

“Bucky’s my partner!” she exclaimed, throwing one hand up in the air and startling a passing jogger, who ran away faster in response. “There are protocols and crap. I told Phil after Bucky asked me out the first time, because it seemed like I was supposed to and also I didn’t know what to do. He just said to work on our partnership, and he basically wasn’t going to tell me what to do with Bucky one way or the other. Technically Bucky’s an outside contractor, so it doesn’t exactly violate frat regs. Which, by the way, Howard was an asshole.”

“Howard? Your grandfather Howard?” Rebecca asked, no doubt confused at the abrupt change in topic. “What does he have to do with it?”

“He named a sub-clause in the fraternization regs — the one covering partners — after me.”

“I thought you two got along?”

“We did. I loved the heck out of him. But, he was still an asshole.”

Her mom sighed and chastised lightly, “Don’t call your grandfather an asshole.”

“Why not? He’s dead; he can’t hear me. And if he can, he knows what he did. And he’s probably laughing. Asshole.”

Rebecca was silent for a moment and then changed to a brighter tone and tried to get the conversation back onto a more productive track. “So, what are your plans? For London, I mean. How long will you be there?”

“I’m shooting for a month,” Darcy told her. “I have to find Jane a new assistant, but I also kind of have to get back to New York.”

“And have you told Jane yet?”

Darcy’s procrastination on this issue was widely known. To everybody but Jane. She bit her lip and cleared her throat.

“Darcy, sooner rather than later,” her mom said in mom-voice. “You need to let her have time to adjust and you need to have time to hand off to a new assistant. You can’t just —”

“I know,” Darcy interrupted with a growl — though she was more irritated at herself. “I know, okay. Yes, I know. I will do that. But, let’s just, you know, get settled for a few days. I mean, we only just got here and her mom’s going to Spain or whatever at the end of the week, so they’re hanging for a while, and that doesn’t seem like the right time to interrupt. So, like, after that. When we’re settled in a little bit and I see what I have to work with, potential replacement-wise.”

“Alright, alright. You’re an adult, I know you can make the right decision.”

Narrowing her eyes, Darcy asked, “That wasn’t a compliment, was it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rebecca said in a blithe tone. “I’m going to let you go; your dad and I are going out to dinner with your grandparents. I love you, baby.”

“Love you, too. Sometimes.”

Rebecca laughed. “Oh, and call your brother. You know he goes to Argentina in a couple weeks and he said he hasn’t heard from you lately.”

“Ugh. Fine. Go do dinner things.”

“And I want to hear all about the date.”

“Bye mom,” Darcy said loudly, hoping to forcefully yet not rudely end the call.

Rebecca laughed some more. “Oh fine, goodbye. Have fun!”

eta: sorry! forgot to fix the italic tags. Also, thank you!

[questionable-sasori-sources-blog]

Allow me to introduce myself.

Hello there, dear reader. You can call me Kankuro - not because I am Kankuro, or intend to roleplay as him, but because I don’t want to give out my real name and I like Kankuro’s name. (I’d steal it and use it for myself, but then my parents would think I’d totally lost my marbles. I mean, I’m sure they think that already, but it’s best to play it safe in case they actually still think I’m somewhat normal. Is there even such a thing as normal? If so, what would that be? *sigh* I’m getting way off-track.) 

The first thing people think when they see me is that I’m a girl. I can’t say I blame them, to be honest. My long hair and feminine attributes don’t really scream, “MAN! MAN! THIS IS A MAN!” (Although you should hope they aren’t screaming anything at all, because that would be flat-out terrifying.) The way I dress doesn’t necessarily help, either, but I dress for comfort. I don’t care if my plaid shirt is a woman’s shirt. It’s comfortable, and I like it, and therefore I WILL wear it! 

Also, I will never cut my hair. It’s my proudest possession and I use it to assert my dominance over other men. If their hair is shorter than mine, I top them! Except that I never top them, because I’m a total bottom. (Did I really just admit that to the whole internet? I think I did. Oops. Oh well.)

Back to the whole looking like a girl thing. They’re not entirely wrong. I am technically female, because of my... you know. Thing-a-ma-jig. Yucky-yucky. No-no square. The thing that shall not be named. The sinful bread knife. The secret jutsu: Crystal Ice Mirror. The Water Prison jutsu. The Black Ant. Salamander. Crow. (I’ll stop with my obnoxious references now, I’m sure they’re getting on your nerves. Hell, they’re even getting on mine!) Call it what you will, but it’s there, and for most of my life, that’s determined my gender. Not anymore though. 

Nonetheless, I’m a guy. I’m not a girl, no matter what my body will tell you. I’m as much a guy as my brother who was born with a Kubiriku Bocho instead of an avocado. (I’m so sorry. I can’t help it.)

I guess this is the part where I’m supposed to say that I’m transgender, but... it feels wrong for me to call myself that. I know that's what I am - I’m a person that was born one sex and identifies as the other. Yet whenever I introduce myself on any social media sites, discord servers, or game forums, I can’t bring myself to say it.

I can’t bring myself to say that I’m transgender, and I don’t why.

Well, okay. That’s not entirely true. I sort of know why, but I still haven’t quite pinned it down. 

I think one of the main reasons why is because I just want to blend in. I don’t want to be labeled “the weird kid” or “the transgender kid” because I think that’d make me stand out. It’d make people want to talk to me, ask me intrusive questions that I’m probably not ready to answer. I guess I’m also afraid of what people will think of me. You constantly hear stories from transgender people about how they were relentlessly bullied and harassed by their peers after coming out, and, well... I don’t think that’s helped my case.

Anyway, I think there are much more important things you should know about me. For instance, I can play the cello! I’m not very good at it, but I’m still learning. I’ll get better! I will! I’ll make like Zabuza and... get killed fighting Kakashi, probably. (Is that how he died? I can’t remember. Not that I’m really trying to remember, but... shush. Also, Zabuza is seriously underrated. He deserves more love. I command you, reader, give Zabuza more appreciation!)

I draw, I write stories and songs, and I’m trying to get into programming. I say trying because it’s hard and I’m lazy and I’d rather play Naruto Online. (I will get to level 100 someday. I will. Just you wait HeijiMorino - someday I am gonna kick your ass. Oh how the tables will turn! Wait, was it Heiji or Kenshiro who I lost to in battle? God, my memory is terrible! I can’t count on it for anything!\

Some of my other interests include:

Hetalia

Inuyasha

Voltron

The Office

Video Games! (mostly fps and horror)

Oh, and I don’t know if it’s become prevalent in this post yet, but I really like Naruto. 

Anyways, I’m going to end this post here. I don’t expect anyone to read this, but I’m going to make it anyways because I do what I want. Also writing this all down while hiding behind the veil of anonymity is actually quite therapeutic. I enjoy it. I’ll probably do it more often when I need to vent and am too scared to open up to the people around me.

Total credit and massive props to the book “Symptoms of Being Human” by Jeff Garvin for giving me the idea to make an anonymous Tumblr blog for all this stuff. If anyone is actually reading this, you should totally go check that book out. It’s awesome.

But enough of that - off I go. See you later, alligator.

[teamkaiforever]

INTO MY BLOODSTREAM

Kai Parker x Reader word count: 7 690 warning: smut summary: It’s Halloween night. 🎃 There is a party in the woods by the old cemetery and Kai sees one of Reader’s games in action, not realizing how big of a turn on it would be for him. [a sequel to SPARKS] // KEEP READING AFTER THE CUT😈🔥 *gif by me _________________________________________ Halloween night.

Soundlessly she melted into the shadows going in further into the woods, glancing at her phone – 11.35PM. Almost midnight on Halloween. Her lips curled into a smile and she took another step towards the dancing firelight at the other end of the old cemetery. Even though the town had been evacuated due to a gas leak, a lie her friends had compelled everyone to get them to leave town because of the heretics, that hadn’t been enough to stop all the thrill seekers from having a party at the edge of the ‘ghost town’. What a better way to celebrate the spookiest day of the year than by hanging out at an old cemetery near the newest scary tourist destination, right?  

Y/N leaned against one of the trees not too far away from the crowd and looked up at the almost full moon, turning her head sideways for a second when she heard footsteps behind her. Parties might not be her thing but the person walking towards her in that moment definitely was. Almost two weeks had gone by since she had met Kai and even though she tried her best to hide her feelings for him, it didn’t work out very well for her. As a vampire her first instinct had been not to feel so she had tried to push her feelings away but every time he wrapped his arms around her, smiled or looked at her with those gorgeous blue eyes her heart melted on the spot and her real feelings found a way to bleed through the cracks of her armor. Somehow Kai found his way into her bloodstream faster than she could blink and there just wasn’t getting him out. Being with him she had finally started to feel alive again, and now every time he stood as close to her as he did in that moment, her mind drifted to places it hadn’t been in a long time.

   “You still have a lot to learn about sneaking up on someone.“

   “You have a century practice on me, fireball.” he whispered in her ear. “But I am getting better at this.”

   “So full of yourself.” she turned her head sideways, glancing at him for a second with a smile hiding at the corners of her lips. “Don’t know what I’d do without you… annoying me with your obnoxious irresistible self and your devastatingly good looks.”

Kai laughed under his breath and brushed his fingertips up her thighs and higher, pressing his body against hers from behind. Ever since they had met his emotions had been running wild, literally driving him insane specially when they were together or she was in his arms. He could barely control himself around her and seeing her in that moment – what little control he had, started slipping away. How can it not after seeing what she was wearing? That tight short black dress barely long enough to cover her, short black jacket, her favorite black combat boots with black spiderweb tights and her hair made in waves, moved to one side, giving him a perfect peek at her neck. He could hardly stop himself from exploring every inch of it with his lips and tearing her dress right on the spot.

   “You look absolutely breathtaking.” he hummed in her ear, his lips almost touching her earlobe as he spoke. His hands lightly slipped down to her lower waist and he wrapped them around her, holding her tightly against him. “Why are you here? I thought you didn’t like parties.” he pointed out, just as she grabbed a red plastic cup from a guy’s hands walking by. “You know, too many people.”

   “I can say the same about you.“ she retorted, taking a sip. “But the town is empty and there is nothing to eat. And look around us right now – so many people to eat and play with.”

   “And Damon was complaining about the heretics’ bloodlust.“ he chuckled, spun her around and pinned her back against the tree. Kai gazed into her eyes unable to resist brushing his fingers against her cheek even though neither of the heretics was around. Usually he only acted like this to ‘keep up the charade’, but the longer this went on the more he started blurring the line between their ‘secret mission’ with reality. And something told him it wasn’t just him, other ways her heart wouldn’t have skipped a thousand beats before trying to leap out of her chest the second he touched her. "Hey, shouldn’t you be in a costume? It’s Halloween, fireball. You have to blend in.”

   “What? Are you the Halloween costume police?” she took a sip from her drink, almost cursing out loud for what she had just done to herself. An image of Kai wearing a police uniform popped up in her head and instantly her breath got caught in her throat. “Drink?”

Kai shook his head, lightly biting his lower lip.  “You make one hell of a sexy witch, though your outfit is missing something. Hold on –“ he raised his hand muttering a spell and a moment later a black pointy hat landed in his hands.  Carefully he put it on her head, ever so slightly brushing his fingertips against her bare skin while he fixed her hair.  "There. Perfect. Now you look like um… what was her name? Oh right. Hermione.”

   “You caught up on Harry Potter.” Y/N smiled, he smiled back glancing at his shoes and nodded. “So where is your costume then? Or are you going as James Dean? Definitely suits you –”

   “Well, I wanted to come here dressed as a ghost, but couldn’t find a way to sneak a sheet big enough for the both of us out of the house.“ he winked at her, leaning in to whisper in her ear while his body pressed against hers and his hand slid down her back to her ass. "You know, you hide under it with me. I pull you close and make you moan.”

   “Night is young.” she took a shallow breath and a sip from her drink, her eyes scanning the crowd.

   “Yes, it is.“ he smiled, following her gaze. "You are not planning a murder party, are you?”

   “I plan on… having some Halloween fun.“ she winked at him, taking a step aside or trying to when suddenly his hand wound around her waist, pulling her towards him.

   “Can I join?”  he said quietly, resting his forehead on hers. Just having her this close to him was enough to drive him mad with lust for her, and her body language at the moment – how her hands snaked around his neck pulling him closer to her; how involuntarily she bit her lip and her gaze drifted towards his lips… It only made him want her more. Nearly two weeks he had had her in his arms without actually having her in his arms, all those moments they had nearly kissed… Every time she even slightly touched him, it felt as if electricity coursed through his veins and all he wanted was to fall into her gravity and never let go off her.

   “Kai, t-they are not here.” she said loud enough only for him to hear, listening to his heart trying to leap out of his chest. Or maybe it was her heart racing faster than a hummingbirds’ wings. “You can drop the act.”

   “What if I told you it’s not an act?“ he whispered, his lips almost touching hers as he spoke. “What if I told you that everything I’ve said and done with you is real?”

Y/N locked gazes with him, feeling her heart skip more than a beat at his words and the way he looked at her in that moment. No one had ever looked at her the way he did – with a mix of lust, love, desire and something else she couldn’t quite figure out. It had been so long since she had felt like this in someone’s presence and a wave of panic flooded her.  “I’ll go find something stiffer to drink. There has to be bourbon around here somewhere –”

Y/N smiled nervously and pushed her way through the crowd while Kai leaned against the tree and sighed, not taking his eyes off her for a second. Unless he had imagined it, there had been something about the way she looked at him right before she had left so suddenly and he wanted to find out what. He snatched a cup from a guy’s hand and took a sip, his eyes following every curve of her body as she pushed her way through the crowd. Her hips swayed left and right while her dress found a way to pull itself up high almost giving him a peek at what was under it and then in a blink of an eye she was gone. There was no trace of her anywhere around him and he wondered where she had disappeared to and why. For a few minutes he stood there waiting and when she didn’t show up, he quickly made his way through the dancing millennials towards the clearing, scanning the woods for her when he heard the screams. At first, he thought those were sound effects from the party, but then he realized someone was running in the woods. And without a second thought, he ran.

It didn’t take him long to track her down and what he saw took him completely off guard. Y/N had told him he’d know if she was playing a game and watching her walk completely soundlessly through the woods in that moment, he knew that’s exactly what she was doing. Kai slipped into the shadows unable to tear his eyes away from her. He had heard the stories but witnessing it felt completely different. It was as if he had walked into some kind of a dream, or a nightmare – if he was her pray. Her eyes had that devilish spark he had fallen for the second they had met while she scratched on a tree stump creating a spooky sound, lightly waving her fingers to manipulate the fog with a smirk on her face. Soon a thin layer of mist started filling the air and from somewhere a crow croaked and a piercing scream cut through the air. For a long moment there was no sound and then a branch cracked under someone’s feet breaking the silence followed by the sounds of a heartbeat racing and someone’s uneven breathing.    “Oh boys?“ she cooed. "Come out, come out to plaaay –”   Y/N stood completely still, closing her eyes before lightly turning her head sideways just when another branch cracked and she smirked.      “There is nowhere to hide.“ she cooed, purple/black veins flickering under her eyes and her gaze drifted to the right. Kai’s eyes followed her gaze and then he saw him – the guy she was chasing who was currently trying to hide behind an old tombstone not too far away and even though the mist was partially hiding her from view and the guy couldn’t see her, she saw him and flashed right before him.  "Bo.”

A scream louder than humanly possible cut through the air and in a flash, she grabbed his shoulders, shoved him against the tree with her hands on his shoulders, her vampirism showing while he looked at her with fear in his eyes. Y/N leaned in towards him, lightly brushing her nose against the guy’s cheek listening to his heart racing and took in his scent for a moment before compelling him to run. Whoever that was ran head over heels, tripping a few times while Y/N’s laugh echoed in the woods. She gave the guy a head start moving soundlessly after him and Kai held his breath wondering how she was able to do that considering there were fallen branches and dried leaves everywhere. It was as if her feet weren’t even touching the ground, like she moved by magic almost dancing while she went after the guy who was panting like crazy, probably glancing in every direction trying to find a place to hide. As soundlessly as possible he made his way through the woods after her and that’s when he realized how his jeans had tightened around him, almost to a point where it was a bit uncomfortable to walk. Watching her play one of her games had been a bigger turn on than he had anticipated and in the past couple of minutes he had realized something else – her friends had been right when they had said they were perfect for each other. Y/N was crazy pants, but that was just his type.

   “Need some help with that?“ she asked innocently making the guy scream yet again, his back hitting the stone wall of the tomb’s entrance. Y/N took a step towards him, biting her lip. Another step later her body pressed onto his and she gazed in to his eyes.  “Owwh so scared.” she brushed her palm against his cheek. “Why do people always run for dead end spaces? Seriously? Dead end streets, the end of the hallway with the locked door and now this. Makes no sense. Or the attic. Why run there?!”

Kai’s lips curled into a smile at her remark while he watched her move her hands up the guy’s chest towards his neck before turning around and biting her thumb, giggling for a second. Even in the dim light he could see her eyes glowing with mischief and that devilish spark he loved so much and he couldn’t help but feel jealous of the way she was touching the guy even though he knew it was just a game to her and meant nothing. He wondered if ever he’d ever feel her hands on his chest that way, because in that moment that was all he wanted. To feel her body against his, her lips on his –

   “Is that a spider on your nose?“ she said with shock in her voice.

   “What?!” the guy shrieked, trying to remove it from his face but every time the guy thought the spider was off him, he seemed to think two more showed up in its place.  "Help me get them off! Where are all those spiders coming from?!“

   “Fire scares spiders, right?” she thought out loud, watching the guy shriek when her mind control kicked in again. “Wait, wh-what are you saying? I can’t understand you.” she leaned in towards him listening to the guy shriek, scream and mumble something. “Ooohh, you are on fire. Well, that must suck. At least you can’t draw a breath and inhale any flames or fumes. Imagine that –”

Kai took a step towards the stairs moving a little closer to the scene unfolding before him, unable to tear his eyes away from her. Y/N looked so hot in that moment with the moonlight shining down on her, it was driving him completely nuts but none of it compared to the moment when she shoved the guy against the stone walls, grabbed his shoulders and sank her fangs into his neck ignoring his cries for help. There was something about the way she fed, how the more the guy struggled against her, the more she wanted to feed on him and refused to let go. For a second she threw her head back, taking a breath and her fangs sank in the guy’s neck again.

   “So fucking hot.” said Kai out loud, completely forgetting she can hear him.

Y/N let the guy’s body drop to the ground and looked up at Kai with fire burning in her eyes when they met his, blood dripping down her chin. But before he had had the time to even blink or say a single syllable, he was pinned on the ground with her hand wrapped around his neck. Damn, that feels so good. he thought.

   “What the hell Malachai?!“ she questioned. “I hate when people interrupt my games.” she leaned over him, her breath hitting his face.

In a flash he put things in reverse, her hands pinned on either side of her head.  “Easy there, fireball. You might hurt yourself.”

   “Get off me.”

   “You ran off. I practically told you I love you and you just… left. I got worried I’ve said something that upset you and then I heard the screams –”

   “You got worried about me?!“ she raised her voice. “I don’t need you coming to my rescue –”

   “—and someone running in the woods.“ he pursued his lips, grinding his crotch ever so slightly against hers thinking about everything he had just seen and how close they were right now. So close he could feel her body radiating heat towards his and those few layers of clothes between them bothered him like hell. "You ditched me to play one of your games. Why?”

   “None of your fucking business.“ she snapped at him.

   “I think it is, fireball.” he leaned in whispering in her ear. “Or do you think I haven’t noticed how you look at me? How your breathing turns so shallow it’s barely even there and your heart –” he gazed in her eyes. "—beats faster than a hummingbirds’ wings almost as if it’s trying to leap out of your chest every time I am this close to you. Just like right now.”

   “I have no idea what you are talking about.” she pushed him off, they spun a couple of times fighting for dominance and in the end she found herself pinned back to the ground with him towering over her. “Kai –” she warned.

   “Really?” he smirked. “So, if I kiss you right now, you won’t feel a thing? Your heart won’t try to leap out of your chest and there won’t be butterflies in your stomach?”

Y/N fell silent and Kai smirked. A split second later his lips collided with hers, drowning her in a passionate kiss while his crotch grinded against hers. The instant she returned the kiss he knew he was right. His lips slowly pulled away from hers and he rested his forehead on hers, gazing into her eyes. “Are you going to deny you felt something now too?”

   “I didn’t feel a thing.” she said quietly, taking a shallow breath before pushing him off her and getting up quickly. Her heart was trying it’s best to push its way out of her chest and the butterflies flapping their wings in her stomach somehow spread through her entire body. “Not a single thing.” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

A smile tugged at the corners of Kai’s mouth hearing the sudden change in her heart beat. Y/N bent over to take her phone, which had fallen off her jacket pocket at some point, and he nearly lost it. So close, yet so far away.

   “No?” he said a little amused, his eyes following her every move while she headed down to the tomb, walking in human speed with him a few steps behind her. “How long are you going to keep pretending you have no idea what I am talking about –”

   “Who’s pretending.” she called out. Her dress moved up her body with every step until she got to the ground floor and bent over to check up on the guy. That’s when Kai lost it completely and in a flash, he whooshed himself downstairs, wounding his hands around her from behind. His hands slipped down to her lower waist, pulling her towards him and he was barely able to stop himself from tearing her dress off her in that very second.

   “You drive me crazy, you know that.” he nibbled on her earlobe. “Every little thing about you since the second we met. And seeing you tonight in that tight short black dress.” he kissed her neck softly. “The way you moved so soundlessly, how you fed –” he pursued his lips, humming in her ear. “It makes me so hard, all I can think about is making you mine. I want you and I always get what I want.“

   “Oh, do you?” she said trying hard to keep her voice steady. Her breathing had completely stopped and even though a chill had shown up in the air, all she felt was fire scorching her skin everywhere he touched her. Kai hummed quietly in her ear and Y/N took a shallow breath feeling his hard on press against her lower back while he softly kissed her neck and she tilted her head slightly giving him a better access, his fingertips slowly brushing up her thighs before disappearing under her dress.

   “I can’t control myself when I am around you.” he cooed, placing his palm over her heat pulling her up listening to her moan quietly. “All I want is to pull you close and never let you go. To kiss you every minute of every day and feel your body against mine every night –”

   “Kai –” she semi-moaned, resting her head back on his shoulder when the guy groaned on the ground, starting to wake up. “Oh, fuck me. I —”

Before she realized what was happening, Kai spun her around and shoved her against the wall pressing his body firmly onto hers and his lips crashed against hers. For a few seconds she tried to fight him off, worrying about the guy on the ground, then her hands hooked around Kai’s neck pulling his lips towards hers. He trailed his hands up her hips towards her ass and under her dress pulling her up a little while their lips moved in perfect sync and their tongues fought for dominance. Y/N wound her leg around his waist, holding him against her feeling his crotch grind  against hers harder and that’s when she realized how hard he really was. Their lips barely parted long enough for them to take a quick breath, both of them pouring every emotion they felt towards the other into the kiss. He pushed her jacket off her shoulders while she got rid of his and his lips moved down her jawline and onto her collarbone marking her as his. His hands were all over her body and he started scooping her up when suddenly she pushed him off her.

   “Y/N? Where –” he asked confused, watching kneel down to the guy healing and compelling him before taking a step towards him, who grabbed her and in vampire speed whooshed them inside the tomb. Y/N took a short breath feeling Kai press his body against hers from behind, her nails scratching at the stone wall while his lips found their way on her neck and he ripped her dress in half. Everything was happening both too fast and too slow – his hands moved down her body, his lips kissing down her back while he removed her dress completely along with her tights. In vampire speed she pulled him up and shoved him against the wall, barely able to keep her hands and lips off him. Clothes flew everywhere and even though they were fast taking them off, it just wasn’t fast enough for either of them.   "Jump.”

Y/N pushed her feet off the ground, hitching them around his waist and their lips crashed together, her fingers tangling in his locks and his crotch grinded against hers when suddenly they fell on the ground with her on top. Their lips stayed glued on each other while his hands travelled up and down her back, playing with the clasp of her strapless bra and a second later he tossed it somewhere on the ground. His eyes lit up like a little kid’s and he reached his hands towards her breasts, squeezing them and playing with them as if they were his new favorite toy. A quiet moan left her lips and a blink of an eye later he tossed her under him and that’s when she noticed the soft candle light filling the whole place. Kai leaned in to kiss her but she placed her hands on his shoulders holding him back.

   “How –” she asked, looking around.

   “Would you believe me if I told you magic?”   he smirked at her and without waiting for an answer his lips collided with hers again, drowning her in a hungry passionate kiss while her legs wound around his waist. How it was that he knew how to make even spontaneous moments feel so magical? As if she needed another reason to fall for him. Just him being himself was to make her knees to weak and now he was finding other ways to do that. Every kiss, every touch melted her completely and if she was standing on her feel she’d probably be melting in her shoes. His lips moved down her jawline leaving wet sloppy kissed on her neck and lower marking her as his again while he continued slipping down her body without taking his eyes away from her for a second making her feel as if flames licked up her skin. He cupped her breasts, pressing the flat of his tongue against her left nipple swirling it around and then against the right, making them harden under his touch.

   “Kai –” she moaned, her eyes fluttering closed, feeling him tweak/pinch her nipples for a moment sending waves of pleasure directly onto her core. Kai kissed down to her stomach, lightly brushing his nose against her skin the entire way to her warmth before pressing his mouth on her through the thin fabric of her panties, lightly biting on her clit without taking his eyes off her for a second listening to her squeal for a second. He bit on the waistband of her panties and pulled them slowly down her legs, brushing his fingertips against her legs the entire way. For a moment he held them between his teeth, unable to tear his eyes from her. Y/N looked hot before but the look on her face in that moment, how purple/black veins flashed under his eyes just took his breath away completely.

   “Wow.“

   “Wow, what?” she questioned, propping herself to her elbows without taking her eyes off his while he brushed his fingertips up her inner thighs all the way to her core, feeling an unfamiliar rush coursing through her body waking up every cell of her body. At first, she didn’t understand what was happening and then she saw the faint reddish glow coming from underneath his fingertips. He was siphoning her and that pitch felt so good, beyond anything she could compare it to. Something else – it was turning her even more and she could feel herself starting to drip with arousal. “Kai?”

   “You are just so beautiful–” he parted her legs wider, leaving soft kisses on her inner thighs all the way to her core. “My girl –” he nibbled on her for a second and sank his fangs in her skin, so close to her core his cheek rubbed against her while he got a taste of her blood.

   “This feels so fucking good.” she moaned, feeling her skin flame up all over again and his tongue swirl around the two holes not letting a drop go to waste. Almost a century and a half on this planet and that had been the first time someone had managed to push her emotions on such an overdrive, there was but one thought in her mind – Kai and how much she wanted him. “Careful or you might start a fire you can’t put out.”

He smirked, brushing his fingertips slightly against her skin lighting her up on fire all over again. Y/N’s gaze drifted to what his fingertips were doing and she bit her lip seeing the faint reddish glow coming from underneath them. His eyes followed his fingers’ movements and he locked gazes with her and she couldn’t help but notice how his eyes were no longer blue. They were completely black with lust, devils and flames dancing in them and the way he looked at her in that moment was enough to make her wet on the spot, if she wasn’t dripping already.

   “So wet you are dripping.” he cooed. “I can’t wait to taste you –”  

Kai brushed his fingertips against her folds, spreading her them wider and blew a light stream of air concentrated directly on her clit before slowly tracing a line with the tip of his tongue all the way through the middle of her clit. His tongue slipped inside her, curling around slowly feeling every inch while his nose brushed against her and his scruff tickled her folds every time he delved inside her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pushing his mouth further on her and pushed her hips down lightly grinding on his face. It was as if he had started a fire for real, and every move of his tongue, every touch only added more to it and she couldn’t get enough of everything he was doing to her. Somehow, he knew exactly how to touch her, exactly what to do to drive her out of her mind and make her feel as if she was fire herself. Soft moans kept leaving her parted lips starting to mix with whimpers while his tongue darted in and out of her in inhuman speed, working in perfect rhythm with his lips. He placed his palms on her inner thighs parting her legs wider and flicked her clit with his tongue, slurping some of her arousal about to drip down onto the blanket

   “OH Fuck K-Kai –”

Y/N could barely tear her eyes off Kai’s, who looked so beyond hot in that moment carefully positioned between her legs, looking at her with fire dancing in his eyes while he continued to eat her out as if she were his favorite ice cream, the burning feeling between her legs building up fast. Her walls clenched around his tongue and she pushed his mouth further on her, lightly gripping on his hair. Kai growled, sending the vibrations onto her clit and replaced his tongue with his long slim fingers. Slowly he dipped them inside her, curling them around so agonizingly slowly exploring every inch before pulling out and going in a little deeper and faster every time, the cold of his rings brushing against her clit. He locked gazes with her and his briefs tightened around him even more watching her throw her head back and listening to her moans turning into small screams every time his fingertips hit her spot. Last thing he had expected had been for this to happen and now he just couldn’t control himself. Every drop of her arousal hitting his tongue felt like a drug to him and a new kind of hunger grew inside him.

   “You taste fucking amazing.“ he moaned, pumping his fingers inside her at a steady pace taking turns between using his vampirism to cheat and pump them faster while he sucked and tugged on her clit, turning her into a moaning whimpering mess until her body shook before him and her orgasm tore through her body. Only he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to and his lips and fingers continued setting her on fire, getting her closer to another release. “So hot, I just want to stay here playing with you all nigh–”

Y/N cut him off mid-sentence, pulling him up. Her lips crashed against his and she rolled on top of him in vampire speed, her soaked core grinding against the large bulge in his briefs. She held his hands on either side of his head, her lips refusing to part with his even for a split second while she continued to straddle him a little faster, making him moan into the kiss and he nearly lost it when she tugged at his lower lip at the end of the kiss.

  “Y/N –” he moaned, feeling her lips on his neck while she slowly slipped down his body, running her fingers all over his chest exploring every inch on her way to the bulge in his briefs. “So eager you couldn’t even wait for me to finish you off a second time–”

   “Oh, you have no idea –” she smirked at him and lightly bit her lip, rubbing his thick shaft through his briefs.

Y/N ran her fingers through her hair moving it to the side and pressed her mouth on him through the thin fabric, allowing her breath on him. A quiet moan tumbled off his lips and he propped himself on his elbows watching her with excitement and curiosity while her fingers hitched around the waistband of his briefs and slowly she pulled them down and off his legs. His thick shaft flopped onto his stomach, and he couldn’t help but notice how her eyes started glowing with excitement he hadn’t seen before, not even during her ‘game’. Y/N placed her palms on his thighs and slowly trailed them up, not taking her eyes off him for a second while her tongue brushed against his balls and higher all the way to the tip, her nose lightly rubbing against him the entire way. Her fingers wrapped around him, stroking him at a steady place while her thumb drew slow circles on the head gathering the pre-cum on it before bringing it to her lips to taste him.

   “You naughty, naughty girl –” he cooed, watching her tongue swirl round and around then straight through the middle of the tip of his thick shaft. “You want to drive me insane, don’t you?” Y/N hummed noticing a devilish spark flash in his eyes for a second. “It’s only fair I do the same –”

Y/N looked at him with curiosity and her eyes fluttered closed feeling pressure on her clit as if a finger was caressing it. She moaned quietly lightly and pushed her hips back at the invisible finger drawing slow circles on her clit watching Kai smirk at her while tangling his fingers in her hair. Her tongue ran on the underside of his length all the way to the tip, swirling around and straight through the middle before she took him between her lips as if he was her favorite lollypop while she tried to figure out what was happening and how it was possible for her to feel her clit being rolled between two fingers when there was nothing she could see… and then it hit her. Not only he had bitten and siphoned her, sending her to places she never thought it was possible to go, but now he was teasing her with magic!

   “Oh shit Y/N –”  he groaned, biting his lip.

A light stream hit the tip of his thick shaft and a soft moan escaped his lips feeling her nibbled on him all the way from the tip to his balls. Gently her lips kissed and sucked on them while she continued stroking him at a steady pace, the tip of her tongue drawing figurines on them. His lenght twitched in her hand and slowly her lips/tongue worked their way up and she took him in her mouth again, bopping her head up and down on him while her free hand gently fondled his balls. He had thought she had been driving him crazy before but none of it even remotely compared to everything she was doing to him right this second. Her eye contact was driving him insane and he couldn’t help but wonder how she can have this innocent look in her eyes in that moment doing something so so dirty.

   “You are driving me completely nuts.” he groaned, pushing his hips up at her. With every passing second, his lust for her grew and he felt torn between wanting to cum in her mouth, watching her cum while she sucked him off and tossing her under him. “I want you.”

   “No.” she moaned around him, sending the vibrations directly on him and he nearly lost it.

A louder moan tumbled off his lips and he grabbed a fistful of her hair pushing her mouth further on him, making her take him all the way for a few seconds while two invisible fingers slid inside her. Y/N moaned a little louder around him sending the vibrations directly on him and her eyes fluttered closed for a second. Her hips pushed back at his magic fingers, feeling her skin turn to fire again. He wasn’t even touching her and was able to make her want him. It was driving her insane and every time the invisible fingers curled inside her, her lust for him only got stronger. Slowly she brushed her fingertips up his inner thigh to his stomach, lightly scratching at him with her fingernails until their palms touched and their fingers intertwined together. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head and she could feel herself slowly starting to drip down her thighs while the invisible fingers curled inside her feeling every inch before pulling out, pumping inside her at the same pace she sucked him off.

   “You love testing me, don’t you, fireball?” he cooed. “That dress tonight… sneaking into my bed in the middle of the night –”

   “I like it when I have you in my mouth –” she nibbled on him, listening to him moan a little louder. “And I can’t help it. You are so fucking hot, all I want is… you.”

Y/N ran her tongue on the underside of his length, watching his eyes light up at her words and suddenly he pulled her up in vampire speed. Their lips crashed together while her soaked core grinded against his thick shaft and she dug her nails in his chest almost drawing blood. His hands found their way on her waist, making her go faster but she pushed them off and he growled, tossing her under him in a flash without breaking the kiss. He pressed the tip of his lenght against her entrance, pinned her hands on either side of her head and entered her with a swift motion, drowning her loud moan into the kiss. Slowly he withdrew almost completely making her feel every inch of him inside her before filling her in to the brim again, his thrusts getting rougher and faster every. It was almost as if the whole place had gone up in flames along with them. The air had gotten ticker filling in with the smell of sex and their moans colliding in perfect harmony with the sounds of flesh on flesh. Y/N threw her head back and Kai used his chance to kiss her neck, leaving wet sloppy kisses all over while her walls tightened around him. His breath tickled her skin every time he buried himself inside her and he couldn’t help but notice how he was stretching her out perfectly, almost as if they were made for each other.

   “You feel so good around me. So tight –” he groaned, intertwining their fingers together and rested his forehead on hers, watching her eyes roll in the back of her head when he hit her spot and her moan turned into a small scream. Purple/black veins flashed under her eyes and he angled himself to hit her spot every time, feeling her walls tighten around him a little more intensely when in vamp-speed she rolled on top of him and her fingers wrapped around his neck. “Damn Y/N –” he bit his lip, his hands finding their perfect spot on her waist and both of them fell into their rhythm instantly. “So hot.”

Y/N leaned towards him, purple/black veins flashing under her eyes and sank her fangs in his neck getting a taste of his blood while he thrusted up at her, their hips meeting halfway. His hands travelled up and down her back, lightly siphoning her along the way while he tried hard to sort out his emotions. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been fed on before, but this felt completely different. The second her fangs sank his skin it was like his body went up in flames and the rush of excitement coursing through his veins felt so similar to an orgasm for a moment he wondered if that hadn’t been exactly what had happened.

   “FUCk Y/N –” he moaned in her hear, continuing to thrust up at her, her hips meeting him halfway. “That feels so good.”

   “You don’t know the half of it.” she cooed in his ear before gazing into his eyes for a long moment. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head when he thrusted up so hard all the air got knocked out of her lungs. Her bloody lips smashed against his while she continued to fuck him harder and faster every time, feeling his lenght twitch inside her almost at the same time her walls tightened around him again.  “Shit, I’m s-so close.”

Kai smirked at her, brushing his fingertips against her cheek for a second vamp-speed turning both of them to their sides, with him standing behind her. He lifted up her leg and wrapped his hand around her neck turning her face towards his. Their lips collided in a passionate kiss and he entered her with a hard thrust slowly withdrawing and filling her in to the brim again, continuing to knock out the air out of her lungs. His free hand slipped down her stomach to her clit and he couldn’t stop himself from lightly siphoning her along the way. There was nothing like the rush of excitement flooding his body when he siphoned someone and feeling their bodies intertwined and their moans colliding in perfect harmony added a whole new meaning to it for him. His fingers drew rough to slow figure eights on her clit, trying to match every thrust while Y/N reached her hand back cupping his face with one hand. Her walls tightened around him almost at the same time his length twitched inside her and his emotions went on a complete overdrive.

   “Come on, fireball. Give it me.” he cooed in her ear, his lips almost touching her earlobe as he spoke feeling her walls contract around him and a second later Y/N threw her head back, her orgasm tearing through her body triggering his at the same second his fangs sank in her carotid artery. He continued to thrust inside her not stopping or slowing down until they were both finished and both of them collapsed next to each other.    “Damn Y/N –” he smiled, trying to catch his breath. “That was… something.”

   “You haven’t done it with a vampire before have you?” she smiled back, gently pressing her lips against his.  Kai shook his head, smiling nervously.  “So, in a way… I am your first?” she crawled on top of him without taking her eyes off his for a second. “It’s different… isn’t it? Everything is heightened, all your emotions go on overdrive and you just can’t stop –”

Kai rolled on top of her. “No. I cannot.” he pinned her hands on either side of her head, rubbing his thick shaft against her core. “What do you say? Round two?”

*                           *                              *

Y/N reached for her phone ringing somewhere around her. Sleepily she swiped her finger across the screen, answering the call without even checking the caller ID. “Hello?”

   “Where are you? You were supposed to be here like two hours ago.” said Damon from the other end of the line. She started to say something when Kai snatched her phone from her hands and that’s when she realized they were in his bedroom. How had they gotten to his bedroom? Her mind was still a little foggy from everything… and then it all came back to her – the tomb, how after they had spent more than a few hours bathing in their mutual lust for one another they had returned to the party and had indulged, perhaps a bit too much, in their other needs.

   “Sorry, you got the wrong number.” said Kai, smiling at Y/N who smiled back sleepily and snuggled closer to him. “Awwh life is not fun without a little fire under your ass, right? I’ll pass a message to our blue eyed self-elected sheriff. Mmmhmm – bye now.” he muttered, dropping her phone on the ground without even ending the call. Gently be brushed his palm against her cheek, lifting her face towards him and kissed her good morning.   “I can get used to this. Having you in my arms every second of everyday –” he rolled on top of her, smiling wider than ever. “I won’t let you run away from me again.”

   “I didn’t –”

   “Yes, you did.” he said softly. “It’s okay. I understand, sort of. I am no expert on emotions but it’s okay to feel. Or so I am told. You play those games because you want to feel. And when I told you everything I’ve said and done with you had been real, you got scared. That’s why you ran off. You are also afraid to feel after everything you’ve been through. It’s confusing, really, but you should know… I’d never hurt you or leave you. You will never lose me.”

Y/N gazed into his eyes and hooked her hands around his neck. “How is it that you know me so well after only two weeks together?”

   “I pay attention, fireball.” he smiled at her. “Now, let’s get down to the kitchen before our heretic friends decide to use up all the pancake dough. Actually, you know what – you stay here and I’ll be back in a jiffy with the best breakfast in bed in history.”

Kai started to get up when she gripped his wrist and in vampire speed pulled him back onto the bed with her, rolling on top of him holding hands over his head. “How about –” she ran her hand on his chest towards his neck, biting her lip. “—we break the bed instead.”

_________________________________________ MASTERLIST - SMUT MASTERLIST - FLUFF