#fucked around on canva and accidentally made this super pretty

[ronanlynchdefender]

Happy Pride Month to all the asexuals but specifically these asexuals. 🖤🤍💜

Can’t wait until there is official art of Henry so I can add him to this pic. If the bees did not make it clear enough he is very much meant to be a part of this post.

[godoflobsters]

The Brothers and Dateables With a Tattoo Artist MC

My own MC was a tattoo artist before she came to the Devildom, so I thought I’d write up some head cannons with a tattoo artist MC.

MC is gender neutral!

Mammon

Nobody can convince me that the “Brothers Under a Pact” squad wouldn't be the first ones to get tattoos from MC, and Mammon would definitely be the first

Definitely likes to brag about it too

Don't remind him that there are countless people in the human realm that you tattooed before him or he will pout

People tend to think that Mammon is cheap and would try to talk you into giving him free or cheap tattoos, but he couldn't stand to be like that towards you especially regarding something that you’re so good at

Our first man works his butt off every time he wants to get some new ink from you

Likes to give you a big ole tip every time

Gets fidgety when he has to sit still for too long so you two have to take breaks often

Prefers small/medium sized tattoos rather than really big ones

One time after he started getting tattoos from you, he was at a modeling gig and they tried to make him cover them up with makeup, he quit and that magazine went bankrupt not too long after...dont fuck with the avatar of greed

Once your shop starts taking off in the Devildom, he and Asmo try to convince you to do a shoot for Majolish(They definitely didn't pull some strings to get Majolish to do a whole segment about you and your business)

Beelzebub

The second brother to get a tattoo from MC

Refuses to get any food related tattoos: he doesn't want to accidentally take a chunk out of himself when he gets blinded by his hunger

This man has a very high pain tolerance and sits like a rock while you're tattooing him and you love him for it

He definitely needs snack breaks during longer sessions though

Has a memorial tattoo for Lillith over his heart that matches with one on Belphie

While making this list I was randomly blessed with the mental image of Beel with abuncha old school American traditional tattoos and you can pry that headcannon from my cold, dead hands

Mammon likes to brag that he has the most tattoos from you, but Beel might give him a run for his money, he doesn't mind Mammon’s bragging most of the time though, so he just lets him believe whatever he wants this time

Simeon

But Simeon has never been all that great at following the rules that they set for him

The first of the dateables to get a tattoo

He wasn't actually planning on getting a tattoo at first, but one day he overheard Luke trying to scold you for all of your tattoos(definitely before the incident with Beel and Lucifer in the underground tomb) and that was the only push he needed to jump on the “tattoos from MC” train

There is a lot of rhetoric in the Celestial Realm about how “Your body is a temple and you should not mark it”

He’s still not willing to stray too far from his roots though, so he’d probably get something with vaguely religious undertones

Absolutely delights in the shocked look on your face and the sheepish questions on whether angels are allowed to do this

Once he’s finally convinced you that you're not damning him to fall by tattooing him, the process goes by very easily

He is very easygoing and open regarding designs and he handles the pain very well

He absolutely loves to show his tattoo off, even when he goes home to the Celestial Realm and receives his reprimands from Michael

Leviathan

The third brother to get a tattoo from MC

Didn't want to get a tattoo at first, all of that physical contact and pain on top of it? No way

But then Mammon, Beel, and even Simeon all got one and he got jealous

You're HIS Henry, why are THEY the ones who get to wear your art? He might’ve been able to deal with his dumb brothers, but SIMEON TOO?

You gotta sit down with him and have a nice long chat about it, making sure this is something that he would actually want to do and not just his envy talking

Spoiler alert: It was definitely just his envy talking

He realises that he is actually oddly attached to the idea of getting a tattoo from you now though, so he comes up with designs and draws them on himself until he is certain that he won't regret it

Would get something tiny and probably gaming related

Definitely very squeamish about the pain aspect but the design that the two of you came up with is very simple and small, so he is able to make it through without fainting

He absolutely loves his new tattoo...but he is never doing that again

Belphegor

Fourth brother to get a tattoo

Has wanted to get one ever since Beel showed him the tattoo he got in memory of Lillith, but things were very...not good...between the two of you at that point

Finally worked up the courage to at least ask if you would be okay with it after the two of you made a pact

Beel, forgetting his super high pain tolerance, told him that it getting a tattoo doesn't hurt at all, so he was in for a big surprise when he went under the needle for the first time

Whiny at first, but he manages to stay very still for you

Has a memorial tattoo for Lilith over his heart that matches with one on Beel

Will definitely start to doze off during long sessions

Convinced Satan to get a matching Anti Lucifer League tattoo with him(definitely doesn't try to convince you to get one too)

Make sure that he does not, under any circumstances, actually fall asleep while you're tattooing him. He did once and he rolled over in his sleep, almost ruining an entire tattoo

Ever since that time, Beel has come with him to his sessions so you could focus on your work and he can focus on keeping Belphie awake

Satan

Gets his tattoo not long after Belphie

One of those people that think every tattoo needs to mean something so he takes forever trying to pick out something that he wants

Would probably get some sort of quote or design inspired by his favorite book, something that really resonated with who he is as a person

Was somehow convinced by Belphie to get an Anti Lucifer League tattoo

Does he regret it whenever he realizes that he now has a portion of his skin dedicated to Lucifer of all people? Possibly, but he definitely won't say anything about it to you

Loves to look at you and just admire your tattoos, asking the stories behind each and every one of them that he can see

He might be a bigger fan of literature than the fine arts, but that doesn't mean that he has any less of an appreciation for your work

Definitely pulls some strings and gets one of his friends who owns an art gallery to display some of your work there

Can set you up with all the connections that you need to make your mark on the Devildom art world

Lucifer

The last of the brothers to get a tattoo

In the beginning he has no intentions of getting a tattoo, he does have alot of respect for your talents and how hard you work for them though

As an art lover and artist himself, he will most certainly commission you from time to time and hang your work in his study

He won't admit it, but seeing your art and thinking of you when he's stressed with work is very soothing

He eventually decides to let you tattoo him only if it’s in a place that is easily covered by his clothes, considering how he dresses that leaves you with pretty much his entire body to work with

Sometimes when he has some time off he will grab a sketchbook and join you if he finds you in the common room working on a design, you share a comfortable silence, with the only sounds be the crackling of the fireplace and the scratching of pencils on paper

The kind of person that wants a tattoo but has no idea what he actually wants, but hes picky as fuck so he will turn down every single idea that you give him for weeks

He is lucky that you love him

Whenever you two talk about placements, if you mention anything on his back to cover up the scars from his wings he will almost back out entirely

Almost

Afew months later he’ll put his pride aside come back, admitting that your ideas would be perfect and that he wants to go through with it

During the session he has way too much pride to admit that he was feeling any pain

That is until you have to start going over the scars

As soon as the needles hit scar tissue he starts to fall apart; tears, shaking, the whole nine yards

It takes you quite a few sessions to finish since he cant handle such long sessions on that portion of his back

The summer after his new back piece is finished, he goes with you and his brothers back to Diavolo’s beach, this time he takes his shirt off in front of everyone for the first time since the fall

He wears your art with such pride that he lets everyone keep the memory, he even lets Asmo keep the pictures he took of all of them up on Devilgram

Diavolo

Wanted to be the first to get a tattoo but Barbatos said no

If you want to continue your career in the Devildom for the duration of your stay, he will buy you a building to work from and any supplies to get started since you had to leave your stuff in the human realm

Diavolo has rooms in the castle filled with the art that he's collected over the years, so when he sees that you're an artist he gets so excited

Before he finally gets tattooed by you, he buys a lot of your artwork and hangs it up around the castle

It takes a few years to propose the idea again to Barbatos in a way that wont make the butler’s hair fall out from stress, but he finally relented under one condition: it has to be in an area that is still hidden while he’s in his demon form

He decides that his legs would be the perfect place to indulge in your artistic talents while also keeping Barbatos’s controlling side at bay

Hes another one that knows he wants a tattoo but no clue what he wants to get

Unlike Lucifer though, he is a true open canvas

He truly adores your art so he wholeheartedly trusts you with his body and knows that he will love anything that you do for him

He knows that this is most likely very nerve wracking for you considering his position so he tries to reassure you and make the process very easy for you

You still put everything into designing him something fit for a king

He’s the type to prefer large pieces that span over entire sections of his body rather than abuncha small/medium sized ones

Another fidgetter, he’s really not all that accustomed to pain so he doesn't have a high tolerance for it

Likes to treat you to dinner at Ristorante Six after each of his sessions

Tips like the absolute king he is, you could probably pay a couple months of rent back at your apartment in the Human Realm just from his tip

Once his tattoo is finally finished and healed, he will find every excuse that he can think of to invite you and the brothers on outings to places where he is free from scrutiny to wear shorts and show off your artwork

Barbatos

The last of all of the boys to get a tattoo

It was a complete shock to everyone when he came to you and asked if he could make an appointment to get tattooed by you

“Everyone” being you, Diavolo, and Lucifer because nobody else knows that it happened and he would like to keep it that way

Another member of the “I’ll get one as long as it’s somewhere nobody will see” club...so basically not his face

Before the two of you get to talking about designs, you expect him to go with something small and simple, maybe an elegant little teapot or something along those lines

Then this man comes to his consultation and throws you for a loop talking about a sleeve

Very picky, he has high standards for himself and what's on his body

Knows exactly what he wants but does his best not to stifle your creativity during the design process

You learn ALOT about just who lurks behind Barbatos’s mild-mannered butler facade during his sessions, he’s surprisingly upfront and honest whenever you have him under the needle

Solomon

Can't get a tattoo

This man has pact marks for 72 demons all over his body, there is simply no more room

Any open space he has is being saved just in case any other demons *cough* Lucifer *cough* ever decide to come around to making a pact

Collects your flash and hangs it up around his room

If you take Diavolo up on his offer to set up a shop in the Devildom, he will make sure to tell all of his pact-mates about you, hype up your work, and get you a lot of business in the door

Sometimes he will commission art from you and use magic to make your art temporarily appear on his skin over the pact marks

Once you become a sorcerer and have a better grasp on your magic, he helps you experiment in creating magical inks and enchanting tattoos

Asmodeus

The only one that actually doesn't want to get a tattoo

He doesnt think that tattoos would fit in very well to the image that he has for himself

And not being able to show off every inch of his beautiful skin while its healing is a no from him

Since he likes to test out his new makeup and skincare products on you, sometimes after he has had his way with your face he will let you draw on him with skin safe markers

would definitely be a wimp about the pain

Will spam pictures to his Devilgram of his fancy new temporary tattoos and you drawing on him

Will definitely try to bring you some of his flings to get his name tattooed on them, you will have to reprimand him every single time and eventually he will stop

If you're not the type to keep up with social media, he’ll offer to keep up a Devilgram account for your shop

If you're ever attempting to draw and you have a very specific pose in your head that you can't find a reference for, he will not hesitate to get up and start posing for you

Luke

He is baby and cant have any tattoos until he's older

His mind frequently bounces back and forth between the whole “your body is a temple” rhetoric that he was taught growing up and “wow that's so cool!”

After Simeon got his tattoo Luke became a lot more enthusiastic and curious about your job though

Will occasionally ask if he can have one of your flash sheets so he can color your pictures

These very often end up on the fridge in Purgatory Hall

Sometimes they even make their way to the fridge in the House of Lamentation too

Will this make the brothers jealous? Yes. Do you care? No.

Luke loves you and looks up to you so much that he goes through a little phase of wanting to copy you, yourself and the entirety of Purgatory Hall can expect loads of temporary marker tattoos

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

NO

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

*

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

*

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

*

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

LE

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

*

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

*

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

[redhoodedwolf]

A Week-ish of Sterek Fics

Hello all! So I recently accidentally fell back into my AO3 bookmarks and have fallen down a rabbit (fox? eh?) hole that leaves me entirely unproductive and sleep deprived but full of feels, so I thought I’d share all of the fics that I’ve rerereread thus far in the last week (it’s over 75 guys) (since friday 😬). Each has the fic name and description, length, and year pub/finished because it makes me feel old. Also all of these are complete because I am weak and cannot handle WIPs. 

Note: I’m not adding any tags to the descriptions, so make sure to read the tags and ratings on each fic first before reading!!!

Teaching Derek How to Text (and Other Shenanigans) by neilwrites | 9K  | 2018

yo derek Who’s dying

---

I see your 'Derek doesn't have a phone' line and raise you 'Derek has a phone, he and Stiles text all the fucking time.'

The Hoodie by ladiekatie | 1.7K | 2017

“You shouldn’t be able to see me. What are you?” The guy in the hoodie says, the ball of energy grows hotter under Derek’s chin.

or the one where Derek is just trying to talk to the guy at the back of the subway.

Nothing You Could Say by SylvieW | 13K | 2016

Stiles’ second year of college is not working out as he planned. He rarely sees Scott, his job is exhausting, and to get home after his shift, he has to walk at three in the morning. Nearly getting mugged is the icing on the cake, but luckily a gruff stranger is there to rescue him. But now Stiles can’t seem to shake the feeling that he’s not alone in the dark.

Old Traditions, Werewolf Edition by Footloose | 3.6K | 2014

Stiles does not work his Omega ass off to attract frat boy Alphas. Absolutely not. He's at college to get his degree. If he's crushing on an Alpha who never crosses the lines of propriety, well, no one needs to know, right?

Stiles Stilinski, Boyfriend Extraordinaire by MereLoup | 14K | 2016

“Beacon County Sheriff's Department, this is deputy Mahealani speaking.”

“Oh thank god!”

“Stiles?”

“I, uh, I need some advice.”

“Advice?”

“Yeah. So, hypothetically, say you met your boyfriend’s mother and sister for the first time ever. Completely by accident. In the grocery store. And they convinced you to help them make a dinner to surprise aforementioned boyfriend when he got home after work. What would you do?”

Danny paused, and then, “Stiles, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not the point! And I said hypothetically.”

“Stiles...what are you doing right now?”

***

Stiles never imagined he’d be in Derek’s kitchen cooking a surprise dinner with Derek’s family while they waited for Derek to get home from work.

Partly because their visit was a complete surprise.

But mostly because Stiles didn’t have a boyfriend.

Or even know who Derek was.

But he’d already come this far and Papa didn’t raise no quitter!

third time's the charm by stilinski | 4.9K | 2016

 Sure, Stiles has a mark on his chest that belies the depth of his feelings, but it's not something anyone can see unless he decides to show it, or unless werewolves suddenly have x-ray vision.

 Which—worrying. And probably-definitely-likely a possibility – if it was to manifest anywhere, Beacon Hills would be top of the list.

 Stiles almost turns around there and then to ask Scott how his visual acuity is but is stopped by the teenager at the register finally looking up long enough to spot Derek. Stiles watches her mouth fall open and her expression—studiously blank but with a faint flush rising in her cheeks—is one Stiles knows far too well, particularly when faced with Derek in all his snug-fitting-jeans, v-neck-wearing, canvas-jacketed glory.

 Stiles is pretty sure he invented that expression.

Ukochany by VincentMeoblinn| 34K | 2016

Derek comes home to find a mail order husband and two amused betas waiting for him. When he realizes their prank was far from harmless he ends up saddled with a husband who barely speaks English but insists Derek is the love of his life. He's also determined to win him over.

only if for a night by stilinskisparkles | 3.2K | 2016

“I’m Stiles,” he says breathlessly.

“Derek.”

“Derek, hi, do you—”

Derek doesn’t let him finish, kisses the words right out of his mouth.

Hypothetically by alisvolatpropiis | 6.6K | 2015

Stiles holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the sinking sun, its orange-yellow light reflected infinitely across the vast, calm ocean. As utterly stunning as the sunset over the Pacific is, especially while floating leisurely on a surfboard a few hundred feet from shore, it’s a mere backdrop that pales in comparison to who he’s looking at.

Derek Hale, whose eyes are their own oceans that Stiles feels like he’s been floating on since the first time they met. The older man’s eyes are as ever-changing and colorful as the sea they’ve spent the day on, a palette of greens and blues filigreed with gold around the pupils. And if that weren’t enough, the rest of Derek is also transcendentally exquisite: high, arching cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, although that particular perfection is a bit obscured these days by his ever-thickening beard, night-black like his hair, nearly shoulder-length but almost always knotted in a messy bun at the crown of his head.

sincerely, derek by stilinskisparkles | 8.1K | 2016

September, 2009

Hi Stiles, it’s Derek. Derek Hale, from space camp. I’m writing this in English because my teacher Ms Grady said I had to write about my summer, but I spent my summer with you, so I decided to write to you, instead.

Please write back. Love from Derek.

Pancakes and Murder by Amethyst Shard (AmethystShard) | 14K | 2012

Stiles' life has been a roller-coaster filled with awesome highs and terrifying drops ever since his best friend Scott got bit by a werewolf. The ride hits a bump when a dead body turns up at the Hale house (again) and Derek's only alibi is Stiles. Which would be fine, except that Stiles' dad is the sheriff and has no idea his son has been hanging out with the former fugitive. Awkward.

The Witching Hour by MellytheHun | 8.2K | 2016

The radio host AU no one ever asked for but I have written anyway because sometimes when DJ’s play several sad songs in a row, I worry about their mental health and then this AU was born

Derek Hale, The Hero Beacon Hills Needs (Series) by MellytheHun | 11K | 4 Works | 2016

This series started with this Tumblr prompt, "it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au

Stiles is walking home when he's stalked by a dangerous stranger and an even more dangerous stranger comes to his rescue.

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill | 32K | 2013

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?

Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

You are the Moon by skoosiepants | 10K | 2012

Stuff Stiles doesn’t like to deal with first thing: hot, moist dog breath in his face, a cuddly werewolf creepifying his perfectly normal morning wood with shades of bestiality, and his dad holding his service revolver up against the skull of his bedmate, never mind the fact that his bedmate could possibly be a vicious unhinged rogue omega.

Baby, you should stick around by ElisAttack | 9.5K | 2016

Derek's driving along a stretch of highway when an unusual sight makes him slow down, the engine of his old pickup rattling in protest.

There's a kid standing by the side of the road.

It's the middle of nowhere, the goddamn apocalypse, and this kid is standing by the side of the road with his thumb pointed skyward. Like he's playing at being a hitchhiker.

Or the one where Stiles thinks he's all alone in a post-apocalyptic world, until he meets Derek.

Don’t Be Anything But Okay by skoosiepants | 4.8K | 2016

“Oh my god.”

Ben pops open the car door and says, “Please don’t embarrass me, Dad.”

Stiles flaps a hand, still staring at the magnificent sight before him. There are glistening arm muscles and a sweaty tank top and then the vision bends over and holy god. He has to look away; it’s too much to take in all at once, he might swoon.

OR-

Stiles has a teenager and Derek has a plant nursery.

covalent bonds (Series) by HalfFizzbin | 9.2K | 3 Works | 2015

Derek's a hot nerd. Stiles is a nerdy jock. A LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES.

Disappear Here by AgnesBlue | 28K | 2016

Stiles was quiet. “What?” Derek said again. “My first heat is coming up soon,” Stiles said at last. Derek closed his eyes, disinterested. He knew where Stiles was going with this. “I was thinking…hoping, really,” Stiles said. “Maybe you could stay with me during that time.”

AU in which wounded in a fire that killed off his entire family, Derek wants nothing more than to be left alone as he finishes off his senior year in high school. That all changes when omega Stiles Stilinski asks him to help him through his first heat.

Money Isn't Everything by TroubleIWant | 6.3K | 2015

Stiles slurps at the dregs of his iced hazelnut latté, pretending he doesn’t need a refill just yet. Supporting your local business is great and all, but Isaac charging $5 for a coffee with syrup is highway robbery. He’s already cut his expenses down to the bare minimum, and splurging for foofy drinks is not in the budget. Except that he can’t really help himself: black coffee is plain gross. Maybe I should plan on marrying rich, he thinks darkly.

Or,

Stiles has a huge crush on the super-hot guy he always sees at Isaac's coffee shop, but when he finds out that they guy's an unemployed orphan he has to decide if the difference in their financial situations is a deal-breaker, or just a bump on the path to true love.

So Shed Your Skin and Lets Get Started by halfhardtorock | 21K | 2014

He's sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he's so fucking fucked.

He knows he's not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don't run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.

you and me (and my best friend) by trilliastra | 1.5K | 2016

“Come on, I shouldn’t be the only one having orgasms. Let me help you out.”

“Uh –” someone clears their throat and Derek jumps, startled, hits his elbow on the wall and curses, “am I interrupting something?” Stiles asks, cheeks red.

Derek looks up, sighing. Of all the people working in this damn school, Stiles had to be the one to catch him and Erica talking about sex. It’s just Derek’s luck. He spills juice on his pants? Stiles walks into the classroom; Laura starts yelling at him about something that happened when they were kids? Stiles is right behind them, waiting for his coffee; Boyd accidentally throws a ball at his face? Stiles is at the E.R. when Derek gets there with a swollen face and a broken nose.

The universe hates him.

Easy Alpha by interropunct | 4.6K | 2012

Easy A/Teen Wolf AU. Wherein, Derek Hale is the high school hussy, Jackson and Scott really need to learn to use their inside voices. And, contrary to popular belief, everyone is still a virgin.

Body Language by LadyMerlin | 2.3K | 2016

In an alternate universe, soulmates exist, and they can communicate with each other by writing on their own skin.

The catch? No one knows their soulmates' name. It could literally be anyone under the sun, and Stiles just doesn't have that kind of patience.

chantes une nouvelle chanson pour moi by pr1nc3ssp34ch (dallisons) | 13K | 2013

Stiles Stilinski has been at Hogwarts since his first year, okay. That's six years of experience. He knows how Hogwarts works, how it operates. He's not quite an expert or anything, but he's pretty damn sure he knows this school.

So why the hell have they waited like a million years to start taking transfer students?

And why is he the only one who can't get a French date?

C’était Salement Romantique by Swing Set in December (swing_set13) | 2.2K | 2015

The Triwizard tournament is really about fostering wizarding relations. Ask anyone. Just not Stiles, he’s busy French kissing Derek.

Hogwarts really should teach some linguistic classes.

The Long Way Home by MyChemicalRachel | 19K | 2016

Stiles didn’t plan to sleep with his best friend’s dad. It just kind of happened. And then it happened again. And again. And again…

All that once was, remains. by countrygirlsfun | 8.8K | 2016

Life is only a long list of constants.

Being a part of a royal family, being a prince, has been a constant in Derek Hale’s life since he was born and swaddled in silk cloths.

Wherein Derek finds himself in love with a stable boy who is more than he seems.

Driver's Education by arrowofcarnations | 9.2K | 2014

This is the moment he realizes he can never have Derek Hale – that he was stupid to ever think he could. Maybe their moms made them hang out when they were little and maybe they’ve managed to get along these past few weeks, but they’re too different. Derek’s cool, he plays a million sports, he drives a Camaro, he’s friends with Jackson. Stiles doesn’t fit into the equation and he never will.

Letters by ericaismeg | 8.9K | 2014

“Stiles, this is getting ridiculous. Can you please do something about it?” Lydia demands. “Do anything. I don’t care. Go up and kiss him, ask him to prom this year, write him secret admirer love letters, whatever. Just do something.”

***

OR: The one where Lydia sets up an email account for Stiles to "confess his love" for Derek. And as fate would have it, they also end up becoming friends in person at the same time.

We're One of a Kind (Like Dip Da Dip Da Dip Do Whap De Dobby Do) by orphan_account | 3.5K | 2012

Derek is your classic greaser—with a leather jacket, a hot rod, a hot bike, and a duck butt. Genim “Stiles” Stilinski a total fream—he’s too cool to be a poindexter but he’s so far from a cat that Derek almost feels bad for him. All that’s missing in this love story is some oddly perfectly timed musical numbers.

do it for our country  by HalfFizzbin | 936 | 2012

In which Derek tries to play it cool but Stiles is totally hep to his jive.

Fast Times At Clairemont High by MonsieurBlueSky (MyChemicalRachel) | 6.9K | 2016

Stiles is stoked when he's chosen for an undercover operation to take down a drug ring. He's less stoked when he discovers that he'll be posing as a seventeen year old student at the High School where Derek teaches.

It's Too Early For This by thepsychicclam | 4.9K | 2016

Derek loves his job at the coffee shop, especially because Stiles comes in for coffee before early Saturday morning lacrosse practices. The problem is that Derek is too shy to do anything about his crush, and the situation is not helped by the rivalry between the basketball and lacrosse teams.

A Tentative Truce by Inell | 8.5K | 2016

Stiles and Derek have a long standing rivalry that has extended beyond the Beacon Hills High School theater department to every other area of their high school lives. With the announcement of the winter production, their competitiveness has to be set to the side so the musical can be successful. With a tentative truce in place, Stiles unable to ignore his growing infatuation for his co-star.

we keep living anyway by bistiles (alis) | 10K | 2015

“Oh, damn, my manners. What an example I’m setting, am I right? I’m Stiles Stilinski, but call me Stiles, please,” Stilinski extended his hand for Derek to shake, and Derek took it, feeling the solid grip and the long fingers around his own hand. For some reason, he blushed on the spot.

“Derek. Derek Hale. Call me just Derek,” He answered, still holding Stiles’ hand in his.

By the look on Stiles’ face, he felt much the same as what Derek was feeling, whatever that unnamed reaction was.

“And this little barnacle attached to me,” Stiles continued, letting go of Derek and flushing pink, “is Leigh.”

--

Stiles is struggling to raise his only child all alone, while dealing with financial problems, a new job, and Adrian Harris, the worst boss in the world.

But then he meets Derek Hale, a dreamy co-workers, and what is a terrible situation becomes considerably less grim, when he has Derek by his side.

Don't Judge a Derek By His Cover by captaintinymite (augopher) | 4.5K | 2015

Stiles doesn't care about the rumors surrounding Beacon Hills High School's resident bad boy, Derek Hale. In fact, he thinks the rumors are total crap. Of course, being secretly in love with someone has a way of clouding one's judgment.

However, he knew for a fact that Derek liked books. So when the two paired up for a final English project, he was excited (but also a little terrified).

But you know what they say...never judge a book by its cover. The same goes for people.

sometimes fate is like a small snowstorm by thepsychicclam | 8.1K | 2014

In a coffee shop two days before Christmas, Derek meets Stiles. Despite neither of them being interested in relationships, they spend an unforgettable evening together, but then part ways. During the following years, Stiles competes in the Olympics, Derek tours the world - and neither of them forget. Then twelve years later, two days before Christmas, Derek finds Stiles in that same coffee shop.

aka a kinda sorta serendipity au

should the pillars of memory topple out of my reach by bleep0bleep | 4.3K | 2015

If Stiles didn’t know any better he’d say that look in Derek's eyes is adoring, but he does know better, and also amnesiac Derek thinks they’re married. Which is the only fact he hasn’t questioned so far, which is the weirdest thing.

Just High School by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 4.5K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been dating for some time.

The only thing is, nobody else really knows.

Tis The Season Baristas Fear The Most by stilinskisparkles | 5.4K | 2012

Scott is hands down the worst barista Derek has ever hired. But it's Christmas and apparently that means something to some people.

Mind Reading Can Be Such a Pain in the A** (Series) by Fanhag102 | 21K | 2 Works | 2015

Derek Hale can read minds. If he could have chosen a mutant power for himself instead of being given one by random, genetic happenstance it's safe to say mind-reading would not have been his 1st, 2nd, or even 96th choice.

Maybe if he'd gotten the power of invisibility he wouldn't be sitting in a senior Economics class next to a hyperactive kid with a buzz cut who won’t stop thinking about dicks.

A Criminal and His Lucky Charm by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 5.9K | 2015

Please forgive yourself.

For what?

For allowing yourself to let someone in. For letting me love you. I didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t your fault. Derek, please, just do it. Please— please don’t drag this out.

Derek Hale valued Stiles above everyone—everything. And Stiles betrayed that. In the end, he figured if he had to die, dying in Derek’s arms wasn’t so bad. He could at least have that.

the things you said when we were the happiest we’ve ever been by foxerica (ericaismeg) | 4.8K | 2015

Derek and Stiles meet again at their high school reunion.

From Dirty Paws by Surreal | 9.9K | 2014

Stiles finds a wolf in the woods. Well, it's more like the wolf finds him. Either way, he's happy to have a new friend in his otherwise boring social circle.

flawless by bibliosexual | 4.9K | 2015

“I know you and I are, like, werewolf-married, but dude, if I ever met Lydia Martin in person . . . All bets are off, is all I'm saying."

It's not like Stiles really means it (does he?), but it still makes Derek’s hands clench into claws on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, if," he says, and keeps his eyes on the road.

Those Hidden Places by Mimiminaj | 18K | 2015

He doesn’t belong here.

It’s the first thought that crosses Derek’s mind as he watches the new inmates spill into the cafeteria. The kid stays close to the wall, eyes scanning all the exits and skimming over the tables. If he’s trying to get a barring for his surroundings he’s doing a shit job of it, something made completely evident as Lewis shoulders him from behind and the kid almost jumps to flatten himself against the wall.

Or

Stiles is the new inmate at Derek's prison. He really didn't expect to fall in love with the mouthy little brat.

Baseball Pants by thatfamoushappyending (betsytheoven) | 2.8K | 2015

Scott shows Stiles a picture of the new pitcher for the Dodgers, and Stiles is suddenly an avid Dodgers fan.

While You Were(n't Quite) Sleeping by mikkimouse | 13K | 2015

Scott’s mom, Melissa, had given Stiles the basics on Derek’s condition when he’d first come over here a month ago. Derek had been here six years, the only survivor of a horrific house fire that had killed the rest of his family. It had left him burned, half his face puckered with scars, and he’d been in a catatonic state the entire time. Stiles couldn’t even begin to imagine how awful that would be, being trapped in your own body for years on end, all alone.

Stiles had an inkling of how much being alone sucked, anyway.

(An AU in which Derek is the one who was trapped in the fire, and then in the hospital, based on a set of pictures from littlecofiegirl.)

dhale25 by ericaismeg | 8.1K | 2014

Derek Hale is an actor in Los Angeles, Stiles is a fanboy in Toronto. When Derek posts his Snap Chat username on Twitter, inviting people to add him, Stiles gets brave and adds him.

They develop a snapping relationship, and it gets intense.

I Settle for Long Distance Calls by iamursforevrmre | 4.3K | 2014

Derek is the guy who Stiles met on some random band page on MySpace because Derek made a ridiculously hilarious comment and with a spurt of confidence, Stiles had messaged him to tell him just how hilarious it was and they got to talking. Derek is the guy that made a FaceBook account just to talk to Stiles on the messenger so they could talk more when MySpace was slowly dying out. Derek is the guy that changed his text message plan to unlimited when he finally sent Stiles his cell phone number. Derek is the guy that has been on the phone with Stiles at any and all hours through the day.

And Derek is the guy that Stiles is in love with.

You look like my next mistake by Vendelin | 15K | 2015

“So, are you dating someone new? Someone who doesn’t mind that you’re frigid?” Kate cocks her head to the side, smiling as though she just asked him about where he bought his shoes.

His entire body sighs in defeat as his shoulders grow square. Just as he opens his mouth, someone comes up to stand beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders. When he glances to his side, expecting to see Isaac, his brain seems to malfunction. Because it isn’t Isaac. It’s Stiles Stilinski, the lacrosse talent of the year, a senior who Derek has seen multiple times from far away, but never ever talked to.

In which Derek is a nerd jock, and Stiles is a frat guy, and Derek falls for him even though he knows he shouldn't.

Coaches Cupcake Coffee House by ChildOfTheRevolution | 4.8K | 2013

Danny looked at him as if he were crazy, ‘It means he wants to ride the dick Stiles.’ He said slowly, as if talking to the mentally insane.

‘Ride the dick, my dick?’ Stiles asked weakly.

‘Figuratively speaking of course, Derek looks more like a topper to me. And you, my friend, are a twink of the most twinkiest standards, but I’m not one to judge.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Stiles admitted, finding himself in a weird crouch-like stance that he apparently now adopts when he’s overwhelmed about finding out Derek Hotcakes wants to bone him three ways to Sunday.

Gladiator AU ( Series) by HaleHole (SweetFanfics) | 9.9K | 2 Works | 2013

He looks up at the door and waits. He hopes that whoever it is, they will be go easy on him. Werewolf he might be, with superhuman healing, but that does not mean that he will not be sore the next day. And he is scheduled for a fight.

Let it be someone easy to please, Derek hopes. Someone who will be quick to take their pleasure and even quicker to leave. He keeps hoping this as the door is pushed open. A voice murmurs a quick set of instructions to whoever has hired him for this session. It is cut off half way through by a familiar, impatient voice that makes Derek strain against his bonds. -- Rome based, Gladiator AU

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain | 35K | 2013

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly. 

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding: 

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Theory of Overprotective Canines by rosepetals42 | 11K | 2015

Stiles is totally looking forward to living alone in his super cool apartment off-campus. He is. He is also very excited to bike to school every day, ready to set up an awesome game room, and definitely over his crush on Derek Hale. Completely over it.

Or at least he is until Derek decides he's moving in with him. And then turns out to be the perfect roommate. And then starts attending all his classes. As a wolf.

This is not going according to plan.

Hot for Teacher('s Aide) by linksofmemories_archive | 8K | 2013

“He invited you to his apartment.”

“To do a lesson plan.”

“Yeah and to probably lesson your plan while you’re there,” Scott said, waggling his eyebrows.

“That made no sense, but you still managed to make it sound dirty,” Stiles said. “I’m impressed.”

The healing touch by devilscut | 96K | 2015

Stiles loses his temper with the rest of the pack when they all make excuses not to volunteer to help their Alpha. Deaton has instructed that for the next 24 hours Derek can't use his hands after he seriously injures them in a magical entrapment. Seeing the emotional hurt that Derek's selfish pack has inflicted on him when they argue and try to get out of it, Stiles volunteers to stay and then proceeds to give the rest of them a verbal ass-kicking. He then takes care of his friend, the Alpha, Derek Hale, while trying to work out what his feelings are towards the werewolf.

Quit Dragon Me Around (Seies) by WonderWolf | 17K | 3 Works | 2015

Stiles makes the mistake of taking Derek’s sword and now the grumpy werewolf seems determined to stop him from stealing and landing himself in jail.

Stiles is not pleased. He’s also starving.

(Or the one in which Derek has good intentions, but little understanding of how Dragon biology works. He just wants the cute mole-speckled kid to be safe). -----

“Five meals, Scott. Derek Hale has stopped me from eating five meals. I can’t believe he’s really trying to kill me over stealing his sword. That’s so petty of him. It isn’t like I meant to steal it,” Stiles complains.

“You kind of did mean to, dude,” Scott adds unhelpfully.

“But you don’t understand, Scott. It-”

“Just smelled so good? I know, you’ve said that like fifty times over the past two weeks,” Scott says.

“This is the equivalent of him stealing my lunch money, right? Thanks to him, I didn’t have a meal this week. Or last week! He’s a bully, is what he is. A nice smelling, douchebag of a bully.”

You'll See Me Again by matildajones | 10K | 2015

Stiles is standing there in his uniform, hair long and hands behind his back. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he can barely look Derek in the eye.

“Hey,” he whispers. He’s wearing the medal Derek had presented to him.

Derek stares. He doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore.

--

Stiles is the soldier who saved Derek and brought him back home. He doesn't seem to care that Derek's a prince or that he's a little bit broken. Derek falls, quick and sure, but it's not easy knowing that Stiles will soon have to return to the war.

Thousand by ericaismeg | 4.2K | 2014

“Seriously, Erica, I could tell him a thousand times in a thousand ways and he's never going to understand what I mean.”

“I thought I told you to spell it out to him,” Erica says. “Derek's has trust issues. I told you this would be difficult.”

Stop Crossing Oceans by greenleaf | 11K | 2015

“There are no absolutes, Scott! No hard rights or hard wrongs! The world doesn’t fucking work that way and we can’t afford to think like that, because people are going to die! We signed up for that the moment we got involved with all this!”

“We? We?” Scott hisses. “Don’t you think you? Don’t forget that you’re the one who dragged us into that forest the night it all started, Stiles. So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

Something inside Stiles cracks, so strong and so deep that he practically hears it.

The Wolf that whispered into Stiles' Heart by ElStark | 9.9K | 2015

Basically the Union of the prompts:

Mute!Stiles + Wolf!Derek + Soulmates/Mates AU

~

“Don’t you have a pack?” Stiles asks him –by then he had discovered that the wolf was in fact a male wolf –“I mean, wolves move in packs, right? Lone wolves don’t make it on their own. I read it yesterday.” He says while they’re both sprawled on the fallen leaves in Stiles’ secret-thinking spot in the woods. Derek licks his face, and Stiles laughs. “Is that your way to tell me that I’m your pack?” Derek licks him again on the nose, making the boy’s face scrunch up, “Ugh. Gross, dude!” he wipes his drool covered face with his sleeve and then gives the wolf a pointed look, “I’m not a wolf, you should have noticed, you know, I don’t exactly have fur and I don’t growl and I don’t have glowing eyes…” He says leaning in to look them closer, “Are you even supposed to have those kind of eyes? I couldn’t find anything about wolves and glowing eyes on the internet..” The wolf snorts.

Aftermath by GhostwithShotgun | 11K | 2015

Stiles suffers from PTSD and insomnia after the events with the nogitsune. He has nightmares, gets at most one hour of sleep every night and has daily panic attacks. He tries his best to hide it because they all have their own troubles and he doesn't want to burden his friends further.

Meanwhile, Derek has made a habit out of checking all pack members every night to make sure they're alright.

Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit | 18K | 2015

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

--

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

It's a Schlong Story by floatingstark | 33K | 2015

"Do you like him?"

"Of course I do, he’s great!"

"Then what is the fucking problem?"

"My dick!"

-or-

Ex-Porn Star Derek Hale has a lot of issues but Ice Cream Parlor Owner Stiles Stilinski is not one of them.

Bad Dog Bakery and Café by Boom | 27K | 2015

Stiles saves an Omega from wolfsbane poisoning. Said Omega now won't leave Stiles alone. Stiles doesn't really have a problem with this.

Beat The Blues by lilpeas | 2.9K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been childhood friends since the sandpit. When Talia realises Stiles is in love with Derek, she knows Derek has to stop seeing him: Derek’s a werewolf and Stiles is human. It can’t be.

But things never go according to plan.

Red Light's Already Off by orphan_account | 3.3K | 2015

Stiles isn't a hooker. He just plays one on TV.

Noteworthy Observations by LadyDrace | 3.7K | 2015

In which Derek recieves complimentary notes in his locker from a secret admirer, and though it turns out they weren't actually for him, things turn out pretty well in the end.

One Hale of a Sandwich by whatthehale | 10K | 2014

Stiles in bed isn’t really something Derek should be thinking about.

Ever.

Because the person who normally picks Lily up from school? Is Scott.

Lily’s other parent. And Stiles’s partner.

Not to mention the entire source of Derek’s current misery.

--

AKA, the one in which Derek thinks Scott and Stiles are in a relationship and that they want to threesome with Derek. Spoiler Alert? They aren't and they don't.

Choice by Omni | 8.6K | 2015

Derek knows what it feels like to not really have a choice, what it's like to be manipulated. He'd never take away someone's right to choose freely. The fear of even accidentally doing so is enough to hold him back from acting on his own feelings.

Stiles has never had a problem making his own choices, and fuck anyone who would try to tell him he can't.

(Or: Stiles gets bitten by a different alpha, but of course would prefer to have Derek as his alpha. And also just, you know, have Derek.)

Emergency Love by Kedreeva | 13K | 2012

Wherein Derek is a firefighter and Stiles is a paramedic, and they just keep meeting.

gave your smile to me by Sarageek16 | 4.7K | 2013

In which Stiles is a hooker (but not really), Derek wants to feed his skinny little body, and there is soup. Not necessarily in that order.

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Weekly Recap | March 9-22

Didn’t even realize but I completely forgot the recap for the week of March 9th to March 15th because I was too busy trying to find a flight home from Scotland (fuck coronavirus and bojo!!!) So now you get two weeks worth of fics!

Complete

good on my own (needed me) by mcwho (Modern AU, Teacher Bucky | 12K | Explicit): There are some mistakes that could be made by anybody. Anybody. Bucky taught high school pretty much his whole life, and that was fine, those were kids, and he knew all of them anyway, which meant there was very little chance of him accidentally fucking any of his students during an impulsive post-marital-breakdown Grindr hook-up. Which is exactly what he had done with Steve.

💙 The Conservation of a 17th Century Painting by birdjay/ @bird-jay (Modern AU, Artist Steve | 13K | Explicit): Well. He does live alone, and it’s not like anyone would find out. He could safely stick his hand down his pants right now and not have to worry about it. He’s jerked off loads of times in his own apartment. It’s...healthy to let stress out this way...right? And the fact that it’s to a doctor of art history isn’t weird. Or at least, not super weird. People have masturbated to weirder things. Steve knows that for sure. And it’s not like Dr. Barnes is rough on the eyes or anything, either. He’s quite possibly the most handsome man Steve’s looked at in months. And, well, there’s the whole art side to things, as well. (Part 1 of The Met: Art Conservation Studies)

Re-framing the Canvas by birdjay/ @bird-jay (Modern AU | 4K | Explicit): Steve and Dr. Barnes's first date. (Part 2 of The Met: Art Conservation Studies)

Perfectly Mad by ClaraxBarton/ @claraxbarton​ (PWP, Shrunkyclunks | 2,2K | Explicit): Whoever had decided to seat Steve beside Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes - eldest son of President Winifred Barnes, war hero, recently returned from a three month stay as a hostage of an offshoot of the same terrorist group that had once held Tony Stark - was clearly an idiot. Actually, in Steve’s opinion, whoever had thought Barnes attending the dinner at all was an idiot. Whoever had thought inviting Steve to the dinner was an idiot.

own me, i'll let you play the role (i'll be your animal) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Werewolf Steve, PWP | 6,7K | Explicit): He wanders into a clearing, the same one where he stood, almost three months ago, watching the Quinjet while waiting for Steve to come running to him. It was the start of something…educational. It’s one thing to take Steve as he is, another to love it the way Bucky did. He has no regrets. He’s been worse things than a monster-fucker. - Bucky’s not wearing red, but he’s got a big, bad wolf on his tail. (Part 3 of 💙in this story, you have claws)

i look like all you need by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP, Daddy Bucky | 4,9K | Explicit): “Steve,” James starts, voice so low and so deep, a shiver running down Steve’s spine, “Baby, you can either come here and stand in front of me…or I’ll drag you by your fucking hair and put you there. Choose.” (Part 1 of Daddy James Bucky Barnes/Twink Steve)

i'm seein' the pain, seein' the pleasure by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP, Daddy Bucky | 1,8K | Explicit): Steve had barely been able to keep up, gasping and trying to ask what James was doing, his thigh pulled up and hiked around a thick waist, a filthy roll of James’ hips. James had whispered low in his ear, “Wouldn’t be a good Daddy if I didn’t make sure my sweet boy got to bed…” (Part 2 of Daddy James Bucky Barnes/Twink Steve)

💙 No One Else by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (Sugar Daddy Steve | 12K | Explicit): And now here he is, walking up the steps to Steve’s brownstone at 12:03 in the morning on a Thursday night. He’s standing there like a fucking idiot with his tail between his legs, his hand coming up to ring the doorbell and falling back to his side maybe 8 times, and he lets out a shaky sigh. What if Steve wasn’t awake? Was this out of line? Showing up to his house in the middle of the fucking night? Fuck. (Part 1 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

Never Before by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 5,6K | Explicit): Before Steve, Bucky enjoyed sex, engaging in it frequently with various partners, enjoying himself and the pleasure he could bring others. But when Steve came along his world was flipped upside-fucking-down. Bucky had never felt so desperate, so needy, so pathetic for someone. He had never once been brought to tears during sex or because of sex but Steve brought them out of him almost every time, whether it be from the sex itself or for begging for it. He had no idea what his body and what his mind were capable of during sex until he came along. It was like Bucky had never had sex before Steve entered his life. (Part 2 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

Slumber by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP, Daddy Steve | 4,1K | Explicit): “Bucky, honey. Can’t get enough even when you’re sleepin’, huh?” (Part 3 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

Mad With It by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 3,9K | Explicit): “Bucky, come here.” Fuck that. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t move and he finds himself gritting out, “Make me.” He knows he’s being a brat, knows he has been all damn day. He knows Steve is being as sweet as can be, trying to be supportive, but he can only take so much. (Part 5 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

Cyclone by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 4,9K | Explicit): “Listen to those manners, baby, so good. You can have all of Daddy’s cock you want but you better fucking work for it.” (Part 6 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

Delirious by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 2,8K | Explicit): “Fuck, honey you look so good takin’ it for me. That little cock has come twice already and look how hard it is for Daddy. Said you couldn’t come and look at you about to come all over my cock.” (Part 7 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

I Just Wanna Tell You Somethin' by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 1,4K | Explicit): Bucky had been so preoccupied at the library studying with Natasha that he hadn’t even realized his phone had been ringing. Or that he had missed quite a handful of text messages. Luckily it was only one missed call, but his stomach clenched nervously when he saw that there was a voicemail. A long voicemail. (Part 8 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

Lately You've Been on my Mind by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​  (PWP | 1,8K | Explicit):  As soon as Steve’s office door is closed behind him, he lets out an incredibly deep sigh, his tense shoulders slumping, his eyes falling shut. Meeting after meeting after meeting had consumed his day and most of them had unfortunately been arduous with difficult clients and a test of patience. Steve needed to go home for the weekend and it felt like he needed it more than he needed to breathe. He slips his phone from his pocket and immediately curses. He missed a call from Bucky. (Part 9 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)

💙 Gym Day by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 19K | Explicit): He sits up and rolls his neck, hands planted on either side of his hips on the wooden bench beneath him, focusing on his posture, and looks over at the man sitting with him. Oh shit. (Part 1 of Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Solider Bucky Barnes| Shrinkyclinks)

Easy Like Sunday Mornin' by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 3,2K | Explicit): Today is a Sunday and the universally-accepted laziness of the day may be why Steve finds himself wanting it slow and sweaty and deep. Bucky didn’t ask questions. (Part 2 of Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Solider Bucky Barnes| Shrinkyclinks)

💙 Right in my Space by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 9K | Explicit): Fuck. Steve’s head falls against the door with a gentle thump that he knows Bucky has to hear from the other side. Bucky was the absolute best and the absolute worst thing he could have seen on the other side of his door, especially with his slightly muddled red-wine-filled brain. He has worked so hard to avoid this moment, has hurt himself over and over again, and here he is feeling vulnerable standing at his door at midnight while the guy he definitely doesn’t want to date and definitely might not be in love with stands on the other side. (Part 3 of Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Solider Bucky Barnes| Shrinkyclinks)

life is but a dream by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (PWP | 2,3K | Explicit): “Beg for it.” The phrase bounces around in Bucky’s brain like a pinball, off different sides, rolling around the curvature of his skull. His eyes are open, but his vision is a little hazy, can make out Steve’s slim backside as it hovers over Bucky’s angry erection, his amused but hot facial expression. Steve lets go of Bucky’s dick, smacks his hand down hard on his stomach instead, “Gone on me already, honey?” (Part 4 of Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Solider Bucky Barnes| Shrinkyclinks)

Edging Closer by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)/ @leveragehunters​ (Modern AU | 1,4K | Teen): Bucky had an apartment of his very own (okay, technically he co-owned it with the bank) and a neighbour of his very own: Steve Rogers, tall, blond, built and ridiculously kind. Sure, Bucky had accused said neighbour of being a butt-pic snapping pervert, but amazingly enough he'd been forgiven. In fact, he'd been more than forgiven, but even after dating Steve for not-quite-a-year, Bucky's eyebrows shot up when Steve dropped down next to him on the couch and casually asked, "Do you want to try edging this weekend?" (Part 2 of Two Men and a Single Entendre)

WIP

💙 Like it's the Only Thing I'll Ever Do by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (ABO AU | 3/4 | 22K | Explicit): When Steve opens the door, Bucky feels like he’s been living in clouds for the past few days, maybe even his entire life. Steve is life, Steve is happiness, Steve is the sun. He has such a visceral reaction to seeing the Alpha that he feels his knees go weak, feels his body draw tight towards the other man, pulled in. Or big Alpha Steve moves into sweet little Omega Bucky's apartment building and a roller-coaster build of a romance ensues.

💙 the reverie was not of me, you never saw nothing (so good for you and good for me) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Canon divergent | 2/? | 15K | Explicit): S.H.I.E.L.D and the Red Room throw Captain America and the Winter Soldier together for yet another mission. Serendipity is a tricky thing. (Part 2 of lay your heart into my perfect machine)

The Mnemosyne Project by onymousann (Post-WS | 2/? | 4,5K | Explicit): Someone's trying to talk to the Winter Soldier. Steve intends to find out who. (Part 2 of ocean eyes)

Paradise Lost (& Found) by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel​ (Modern AU | 28/? | 62K | Mature): Meeting at a tropical resort AU where Steve is there on a 2-week honeymoon package after his fiancee left him at the altar, and Bucky is there for his sister’s destination wedding but doesn’t have a room because there was a mix up with the reservations in the system.

💙 Whip Crack by Quarra/ @quarra​ (Tentacles AU | 109K | 13/? | Explicit): Tentacle Monster Steve is captured by Hydra. They send in the Winter Soldier with a bull whip to break him, but as far as Steve's concerned the most beautiful creature he's ever seen walked in to his cell and started waving a sexy black tentacle at him. It's love at first sight.

Re-read

wild at heart by spacebuck/ @spacebuck​ (Shrunkyclunks, Soulmates AU | 11K | Explicit): Steve's volunteering when he meets his soulmate, and the cheetahs Bucky's responsible for make pretty good matchmakers, too.

[rambling-at-midnight]

The Dangers of Sarcasm: Part 2 (final)

The clock continues to blare, much to Sam’s intense annoyance, so eventually he just yanks the cord out of the wall when he discovers he can’t make sense of the many buttons on its surface.

His surroundings are both too simple and too complicated for Sam to make much sense of. The only decoration on the grey-colored walls is a canvas with the words ‘God bless kale— Samuel Winchester’ written in fancy cursive.

Sam frowns. “What?” That’s not something he would ever say, both because you and Dean would ridicule him for it endlessly, and also because he likes eating healthy, but it’s not that important to him. Also, who would ever have that quote on their wall? That’s ridiculous.

There’s nothing unusual about the room, save for the fact that Sam didn’t go to sleep here and he’s never seen it before in his life. You would absolutely hate the black bedsheets and pillowcases, insisting on at least a navy blue. There always had to be a little bit of color and music around you or you go crazy. It’s one of the things Sam loved about you.

Sam frowns. Why’s the thinking in the past tense? Just because he doesn’t know where you are doesn’t mean you’ve, like, died or anything. That would be ridiculous. Everyone knows you can’t die. You’re one of the best hunters ever, plus even imagining you dead is laughable. Nothing could keep you from standing back up, not even Death himself.

The bathroom is the same: only the essentials in the cabinets, the place as spotless as if nobody even lives in the place. The entire house, way too large for just Sam, is the same way. It may just be a regular house, but one person doesn’t need this whole space.

Sam laughs. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters. “I don’t live here. I don’t know what this is. I don’t know how I got here.” But still, he can’t help but feel that this is the place he lives now, and it’s much too large and quiet: the opposite of the Impala, which is always blaring rock and alive with your laughter, cramming the two large Winchesters and slighter Singer into their seats and with beer coolers on the floor.

The only possible explanation Sam has for waking up here is somehow getting super drunk and wandering into someone’s house, but they probably would have noticed and Sam didn’t even drink more than a beer last night before heading to Barnes and Noble with you. So that’s pretty much out of the question.

The fridge is what Sam wishes you and Dean would eat more: all healthy foods; stuff like kale (Sam thinks about the quote upstairs) and lettuce.

It’s when Sam opens his cupboard that stuff gets interesting.

There’s an entire shelf of salt. On each lid someone had drawn a devil’s trap.

On the shelf below the salt is another shelf stocked with only one product: spray paint.

“Definitely a hunter’s house,” Sam mutters. On a hunch, he lifts up the corner of a rug. In this cold, dark house, a rug seems out of place; a cold stone floor would be more fitting. Sam’s beginning to think this place is just an elaborate dungeon. It certainly feels as oppressive as one.

Just as he’d suspected, there’s a Devil’s trap painted onto the floor underneath it. Sam bets there’s one under every rug and bed in the house. It’s what he would do if he had a house.

Sam climbs the stairs back up to the bedroom. His phone is lying on the bedside stand, but it doesn’t have the occasional crack on its screen from getting thrown around by monsters and it’s not slightly bent at the bottom right corner. It’s pristine, just like the house.

He pulls open the one drawer, hoping for a clue as to who the house belongs to, but the contents inside only confuse him more: a CD and a single glossy photo Sam’s almost sure he doesn’t remember taking: you and him, so young it was obviously taken before he went to college, talking, sitting cross-legged and face to face in front of the Impala.

Sam and you talking isn’t exactly a monumental occurrence, so that scene could very well have happened, but Sam knows for a fact that no one in his family is particularly fond of taking photos. So who took this photo of you and Sam together?

Dean.

The thought comes to him completely unprompted. It definitely wasn’t Dean; that wasn’t something Dean would ever take a picture of. Dean prefers to take embarrassing photos of you and Sam for blackmail, not something that could even be considered sweet. It goes against his ‘tough guy’ persona.

Now that he’s thinking of his brother, Sam has a thought that he should’ve had the second he woke up but for some reason didn’t. He dials his brother’s number. Dean picks up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

Sam sags with relief at his brother’s voice. “Dean! Hey, Dean, where are you? Are you at the motel room?”

“Who is this?” his brother asks instead of answering.

Sam frowns. His brother has his number saved in his phone, all of them. “Dean, it’s me. Sam.”

Dean hangs up.

“What the hell?” Sam mutters, running a hand through his hair, and calls his brother again. Dean picks up on the first ring this time.

“I don’t know if you’re actually Sam or just a monster, but don’t call me. Call again and I’ll kill you.”

“Wait! Dean—”

He hangs up again.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam asks himself. Why would Dean be angry with him? He hadn’t done anything last night, had he?

Maybe he’d accidentally hurt Baby. That would definitely be something that Dean would try to kill him for.

Sam dials again.

Dean picks up with an exaggerated sigh and immediately starts talking. “Look, man, I don’t know if you can’t hear suddenly, but I don’t want to hear from you. Like, at all. So leave me the fuck alone.”

“Wait! Please don’t hang up,” Sam pleads, sensing that his brother’s thumb is hovering over the ‘End Call’ button. He knows Dean. “Dean, something happened and I woke up in this strange house and there’s a quote on the wall that says it’s by me, but I’ve never said ‘God bless kale’ in my life, so—”

“Sam, you say ‘God bless kale’ every day,” Dean interrupts. “I’m pretty sure the words are what you cry out during sex.”

That definitely sounds like Dean.

“Look, where are you?” Sam asks desperately. “I’m seriously freaking out, man. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Dean’s voice is hard when he speaks. “Are you with the FBI? You’re not tracking this call, are you? God damn it, Sam.”

“No!” Sam almost pulls his hair out. “I’m not with the FBI, I swear. Dean, we’re both on their Most Wanted lists.”

“ I am,” Dean corrects. “What is your deal?”

Sam frowns. “I don’t know.” His brother doesn’t sound like Dean; his voice is too unconcerned, too cool. Sam’s only ever heard him use that tone of voice with monsters that try pleading for their lives. He checks the date on his phone. It’s the correct day and year. “Yesterday I was hunting with you and Y/N and then I woke up here—”

“Shut up!” Dean barks. Sam flinches. “What, so this is just all coming from a dream? You’re such an ass, Sam. You made your choice and I made mine. I still can’t believe you sometimes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Sam roars. “Something’s going on, Dean!”

Dean doesn’t say anything for a while, so long that Sam has to check that he hasn’t hung up again. Finally, he says, “Okay, then what’s your problem?” Even after all this time, Dean’s a sucker for his younger brother. Other hunters say he’s too nostalgic.

“Dean, yesterday we were in Long Pine, Nebraska, staying in the Long Pine Bunkhouse, hunting a rugaru, and I woke up today in this strange place.”

“How’d you know where I am and what monster it is?” Dean snaps.

“Because we were hunting it together yesterday!” Sam replies exasperatedly. Why is it taking his brother so long to understand this?

“Sam, you haven’t hunted with me since you went to college,” Dean replies.

“What?” Sam screws up his face with confusion. “Oh, come on, Dean, this isn’t some prank you and Y/N are pulling on me, is it?”

Dean laughs, but it’s a sound that isn’t happy. “Sam, trust me, Y/N doesn’t have anything to do with this. Whatever ‘this’ is.”

“Why not?”

“You killed her.”

Sam shows up at the Long Pine later that day, ignoring nonstop calls from someone named Nancy. Dean opens the door when he knocks, and Sam’s greeted by three things: holy water to the face, a silver knife, and his brother’s face.

Sam doesn’t remember him having so many scars or hair that short, but he takes the knife and draws a thin cut on his upper arm. Dean nods, finally satisfied, and lets him into the room.

“You do know that if you brought FBI and you’re faking this whole freakout, I’m going to kill you, right?”

Sam looks into his brother’s eyes and finally finds out what it feels like to be a monster the Winchesters are hunting. There’s no teasing in his brother’s eyes, no warmth, nothing. He really would kill Sam and the FBI squad that would show up if he was lying. “I’m not faking it.”

Dean nods and picks up a beer from the bedside stand. As Sam looks around more, he realizes his brother’s room looks like a trash pit. Surely his brother’s liver can’t be well off, considering how much beer he appears to drink. And that’s saying something, considering how much beer Sam is used to his brother drinking. “All right, spill.” Dean pulls out his trusty handgun and rests it on his knee, pointed at Sam.

“I honestly have no idea what happened,” Sam says honestly. “Yesterday we finished up that rugaru hunt and then we went to a bar. Y/N and I left early to go to Barnes and Noble and then we slept in the Impala because you were taking a girl to the motel room. Then I wake up in a pretentious home with the quote ‘God bless kale’ on the wall—I mean, what the hell?”

Dean pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen a few times before handing it to Sam. It’s a YouTube video of Sam, but it doesn’t quite look like him. He’s wearing glasses  and his hair is slicked back and slightly shorter than it should be.

“Ew,” Sam mutters and Dean huffs out a laugh.

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

The Sam in the video paces around a stage, spewing all sorts of pretentious health tricks and stuff about not letting anything hold you back, not even family. He ends the speech with “I mean, God bless kale, am I right?”

Sam makes a face. “I—that’s—I’ve never—”

Dean just sits and watches him.

Sam quickly searches both his and his brother’s names. Dean’s been on the FBI’s Most Wanted list since ‘09 and Sam has his own law firm.

Finally, Sam searches for you.

“Y/N Singer was convicted for multiple counts of murder, arson, grave desecration, and sentenced to the death penalty. Her sentence was carried out on February 23, 2009,” Sam reads out loud and puts a hand to his mouth. Dean watches him, eyes calculating.

Sam sprints to the bathroom and empties the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.

“I hope you had that same reaction the day it happened,” Dean says coldly, leaning one shoulder on the doorframe and watching as his little brother retches.

“You said I killed her,” Sam says weakly once he’s finished, slumping against the side of the bathtub.

“You went into law, missing Dad be damned, and rose through the ranks of your pretentious law firm,” Dean says, crouching down so he can look his brother in the eyes as he reminds him of his sins, because it would appear he’s forgotten.

Dean’s so livid Sam can’t even see it. How Sam could forget what he had done, how he could dare to speak your name out loud, it baffles him. There’s no excuse. “You were assigned to prosecute Y/N when she was caught, I guess. And your reputation was too important, so you made sure she was sentenced. You know what you told me?”

Sam hugs his knees to his chest. “What?”

“You said you’d help her get out. And then you didn’t, because they could have caught you. And she died.” Dean turns away so Sam can’t see the struggle on his face. Sam can’t be faking this memory thing, because he knows that what he did was unforgivable and that Dean had sworn to kill him if he ever saw him again. So for Sam to show up on his doorstep, acting like the brother he remembers from their shared childhood… the only explanation is that he really is having an episode or whatever.

“Y/N never hurt a person,” he says softly, starting to vibrate with anger. “She was the sweetest hunter I ever knew. You loved her, Sam.”

Sam shuts his eyes and shakes his head.

“You loved her! And you killed her!” Dean bellows. “Because you couldn’t handle losing a case!”

“That wasn’t me!” Sam yells. “I would never, Dean!”

“That’s what I thought, too!” Dean shouts, his face turning red, fists clenching so he doesn’t reach for his gun. “You forget I raised you, Sam! I taught you every trick, every move, every game I know! I sacrificed everything for you! You ate first, you got the bed and I got the floor, and I never complained, because I loved you, and I was happy that you were happy! I was happy that you were turning out good because I had turned into a fucking mother to take care of you, and then you know what you do? You kill my sister. You killed Y/N and then you have the audacity to keep that picture in your bedside stand and say you regret it and say you still love her. You didn’t love her. You didn’t love me. And I shouldn’t have loved you.”

While he had been yelling, Sam had put his head in his knees and started to sob, shoulders shaking, because he knows that this isn’t real but right now he doesn’t have you, and for some reason, for some godawful reason, he’s starting to remember talking with you after your trial and promising to get you out but then his boss had called for a dinner and he had gone to that dinner and you had died. “You don’t mean that, Dean. Y-you can’t.” There’s an awful, hollow feeling in his chest that he should be used to, after years of you being dead, but the thought of being used to it makes him terrified.

There’s memories coming back that Sam knows aren’t real, the memory of the night, that dinner with his boss, and when he got home he was told that there was a scheduling error by his secretary Nancy and that Y/N had been executed already.

And even though it never happened to him, Sam can feel every excruciating detail of that memory, burnt into his memory, and the waves of grief that only Dean could have soothed, and then his brother had called and threatened to kill him.

And now Dean hates him and he loves kale and the only decorations in his room are a picture of you, a CD, and a pretentious quote on his wall.

Dean’s fit of anger fades when he sees his brother’s shuddering shoulders. Goddamnit, but he still does have a soft spot for his brother, no matter what he did, because he is Sam’s mother, after all. Sam’s practically a part of him.

“Dean, I swear to God, I would never do that,” Sam vows, wiping his eyes but keeping his eyes on the floor. His eyes go wide when he realizes what must be going on. “You didn’t happen to piss off an angel recently, did you?”

“What?”

Sam scrambles to his feet. “This has happened before—our memories have been messed with before, remember when I was working IT and you were a health nut? Maybe we pissed off an angel and they decided to pull this trick—”

“Wow, you really are out of it,” Dean says, his eyes half-lidded as he watches Sam. That’s how he is nowadays; wild and extreme mood swings because he’d lost every single person he’d ever loved. “Angels, Sam? Is this some sort of midlife crisis? Has the stress made you lose your mind?”

“Cas,” Sam mutters. “Dean, where’s Cas?”

“Who?”

“Wait, if I didn’t die, then the angels wouldn’t have pulled you from hell, so of course you don’t know Cas,” he continues feverishly. “So no apocalypse because you didn’t go to hell. So you’ve just been a regular hunter all these years?”

“What are you talking about?” Dean frowns. “What else would I have been?”

“Dean, if you ever loved me, just trust me,” Sam says, standing up and brushing by his brother. “I have a story to tell.”

Dean’s face is blank when Sam finishes the story. Finally, he asks, “How many drugs are you on?”

“I’m not out of it,” Sam insists. “Dude, trust me. What we would do would make people think we’re crazy, but we know monsters are real. And if demons are real, why’s it so unbelievable that angels might be too?”

“Fine, angels, maybe,” Dean relents. “But everyone knows you can’t come back from the dead!”

“What about zombies and ghosts?” Sam reminds him.

“But that’s not really coming back.”

“Look, dude, just trust me. I—”

“Y/N trusted you,” Dean mutters.

Sam winces. “You’ve got to believe me, man. That wasn’t me—that must have been, like, a different version of me. Not this version, trust me. I… I haven’t wanted to be a lawyer in a long time. I’ve loved hunting with you and Y/N for years.”

“Y/N never wanted kids and a normal life like you did,” Dean reminisces. “That’s why she was so nervous around you, because she didn’t think you would still like her if she didn’t want what you did.”

“Dean, if you help me, I promise we’ll get Y/N back. Not just back, but this entire existence—me leaving, Y/N dying, all of it—that will get erased and it will never have happened. I promise.”

Dean eyes Sam warily. “Maybe you’re just freaking out, but sure. Worst comes to worst, you wake up and go back to your lawyering and I go back to hunting and we pretend this never happened.”

“Now we just need to figure out what happened,” Sam sighs. “Cas will know.”

“Cas, who saved me from hell?” Dean asks and Sam nods. “Well, how do we get him down here?”

“I know a ritual.”

“This isn’t gonna work,” Dean mutters. “Angels don’t exist, otherwise hunters would have encountered them a while ago—”

“Dude, most of them are dicks,” Sam interrupts. “I’m sure some hunters have encountered them and the angels smited them.”

“Then why are we summoning a dick down here?”

Sam frowns. “Cas was a dick at first, but he got better. Hopefully he won’t kill us immediately. Maybe he even remembers the timeline I came from. Angels are weird,” Sam adds as an afterthought. “I know something that will banish him, anyway.”

Once they’re set up, Dean hovering by the symbol on the wall, ready to press it to banish Cas at a moment’s notice, and Sam ready to talk to the angel, they share a look. It’s a normal look for Sam, the way they both check with each other to make sure they’re ready before hunting, but it hurts Dean’s heart. He’s missed his brother.

“All right, Cas,” Sam says, finishing the ritual. “Get on down here.”

A white light blinds them. Once it fades, Cas wearing Jimmy Novak is squinting at the two hunters. “Who are you and how did you know how to summon me?”

“Cas, it’s me,” Sam pleads. “Don’t you remember?”

“I’ve never seen you before,” the angel replies. His angel blade falls into his hands. “Are you the one that’s been interfering with time?”

“Sort of, I guess?” Sam winces. “I want to set it back, though. I don’t like this timeline very much.”

“The Winchesters,” the angel realizes. “You were special, the both of you.” His eyes linger on Dean’s. Dean gulps. “You wish to fix this mistake?”

“Can’t you?” Sam asks. “I know Gabe and Zachariah have done things like this before.”

Cas frowns and shakes his head. “The fountain’s magic is one I am not allowed to break.”

“The fountain?” Sam frowns. “The fountain? Oh!”

“Sure, I wish to have never gotten back in the life even when you came to pick me up from college.”

“Set things right,” Cas says gravely. “My superiors aren’t very happy with you.”

He disappears.

“That was an angel?” Dean asks. “Wow. He sort of sucked.”

“He’s better in my timeline,” Sam mutters. “All right, we have to find the fountain that granted me this wish.”

Dean barks out a harsh laugh. “What, you wished for Y/N to be dead and to be a lawyer?”

“I was joking around with you,” Sam murmurs. “I said something like ‘I wish I’d never gone with you when you came to pick me up from college’.”

Dean looks at him incredulously. “That’s something you joke about?”

“The you I know is a lot more easygoing,” Sam says under his breath. “So, what? Did I refuse to come with you or what?”

Even as he asks that, he remembers it: Sam telling Dean that he would be able to handle it, Jess dying only a little later, and Sam throwing himself into his work to distract himself. You visited sometimes, which reminded him of his old childhood crush on you, and eventually you two got together.

Then you’d made the FBI’s Most Wanted list.

“Don’t answer that,” Sam says hastily when Dean opens his mouth. “All right, well, that should be pretty easy. Destroying the fountain should work, right?”

“I assume so,” Dean shrugs. “I’m still not convinced you’re not bonkers, but let’s go.”

“Fuck!”

Dean crosses his arms as he watches his little brother pace around, spewing expletives, in front of the ‘Closed’ sign of the little Chinese restaurant. The insides are completely barren; whatever fountain Sam’s looking for is long gone.

Sam’s looking a little spare at the moment, his hair ruffled from running his hands through it so much, eyes twitching from tiredness, cursing like a sailor. Passerby give him a wide berth.

“God damn it,” the younger Winchester mutters, fishing his phone out of his pocket and answers this Nancy that’s been calling him nonstop. “What the hell could be so important?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, but you didn’t show up at work today so I thought you might be sick and your house was empty and ransacked when I got to it—” the secretary on the other end babbles.

Sam holds the phone away from his ear and looks to Dean for help, but Dean’s stopped helping him long ago. Eventually he interrupts Nancy by saying, “I’m fine. I’m taking a vacation right now. Don’t call me again.”

“A vacation?” the girl repeats. “Mr. Winchester, are you all right?”

Sam hangs up and rolls his eyes at Dean, who should smirk and make a sexual comment about his secretary going to his house, but this Dean just raises one eyebrow and turns away. Sam blinks and shakes his head.

“So we gotta figure out where the fountain is, right?” Dean asks.

“If it isn’t demolished,” Sam mutters. “If it is, then I don’t know what we’ll do.” Surprising Dean, though he really shouldn’t be surprised at this point, considering the sort of madness his brother is spewing right now, he sits down on the sidewalk and puts his head on his knees.

Maybe when they were kids Dean would know what to do, but his brother’s been spewing anti-family content for years, making it very clear that he’s not welcome and no amends are going to be made anytime soon. Plus, at this point, the only thing Dean knows about Sam is his name. What he likes, if he’s seeing anyone (though that would be like betraying Y/N, Dean feels like), and all that other stuff is a mystery.

It’s the nostalgia that makes Dean sit down next to his brother, not quite able to bring himself to put a hand on his back. Even if his brother has mysteriously lost his memory and thinks they’ve been hunting together for the past few decades, that doesn’t mean he’s just forgotten seeing that face push for Y/N to be killed.

“Hey, you don’t happen to have a headache or anything, do you?” Dean asks. “You haven’t hit your head or anything?”

Sam gives him a scalding look. “I’m not crazy, Dean. Not yet, anyway.”

Dean frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m starting to remember things that I haven’t done,” Sam whispers. “I remember the trial. I remember pushing to kill Y/N. And I can’t remember some things about my timeline, like where I took Y/N out on our first date.”

“You’re starting to turn into the Sam I know,” Dean realizes.

“I don’t want to be him,” Sam whispers, looking at his brother with teary eyes. “Please, Dee. I don’t want to be him.”

“That’s all right,” Dean says, suddenly reminded of how Sam would cry sometimes when he wanted something from Dean when they were kids. He slings his arm around Sam’s shoulders. “You’re not gonna. I won’t let you.”

Sam sniffs. Despite being over six feet tall, his hunched shoulders and inturned feet make him look small.

“Let’s call it a night and get back to it in the morning,” Dean suggests, standing up and taking Sam with him. “I doubt you’ll forget your entire life in one night.”

The brothers track the fountain to one place, but it turns out they sold it to another place, and then that place had it transferred to another facility, but then the truck that had been carrying it had crashed, and somehow the brothers find themselves picking through a dump. Dean looks up to see his brother’s disgusted face as he wades through the leaking garbage bags, but it’s not a regular disgusted face, it’s a ‘this is all beneath me’ face. For a moment Dean forgets about everything that’s happened, seeing that expression on his brother’s face, and wonders why he’s bothering to help his brother.

Then Sam blinks and shakes his head. He smiles at his brother, a tense one but a real smile nonetheless, and Dean remembers. Sam’s starting to squint a bit now, his eyes going as he turns more into the Sam Dean knows. The physical sign of his change is scaring both of them.

If Dean can have his brother and his sister back, he’d do anything, but watching this new Sam turn into the Sam he’s used to is killing him.

Sam almost starts to cry when he finally sees the fountain. It’s sitting in the middle of a pile of black garbage bags. “Dean! Dean, come look!”

Dean scrambles over and looks to where his brother’s pointing. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Sam nods. “I’m sure of it.”

“Then we’ll need to get it to a construction site,” Dean says decisively. “Run it over with a truck, you think?”

“Maybe taking the coin will reverse it,” Sam says. He starts to make his way to the fountain when a shout stops Dean from following him.

Dean turns around with a fake smile. “Yes?”

“This is private property,” an old man with a missing tooth bellows from a few yards away. He must be slightly deaf. “You boys better get off right now!”

“All right!” Dean yells, beckoning Sam over. Sam holds up the penny, glinting in the fading light, and pockets it. “Sorry, sir! We’re leaving now! You think that’ll do the trick?” he adds in an undertone to Sam.

Sam shrugs. “If we wake up and things aren’t changed, we can just destroy it tomorrow.”

“Man, I can’t wait to see Y/N,” Dean says, smiling wistfully.

“Me too,” Sam agrees fervently. “You have no idea.”

Dean thinks he does, but he keeps his mouth shut. One thing about this new Sam becoming more like the old Sam is him thinking less and less about other people. He really hopes this works.

Dean wakes up to a familiar click. When he opens his eyes, his pistol is staring him down. Sam is holding it up, jaw clenched. “Sammy?”

“It’s Sam,” he corrects unconsciously. “What the hell am I doing with you ? Did you kidnap me?”

“Hey, you tracked me down,” Dean says, sitting up fully. His brother won’t kill him, he doesn’t think. “You were having a meltdown. You completely lost it.”

“I’m surprised I’m not dead, then,” Sam sneers. “Considering you’re a professional killer. Maybe I should call the FBI, see what they think about Dean Winchester being here.”

“Well, out of the two of us, I’m not the one that’s killing innocents,” Dean shrugs, his voice light so it doesn’t betray his emotions. That would be embarrassing.

Sam’s hands tremble.

“We both know you aren’t gonna shoot me, Sam,” Dean says, eyeing his brother’s posture. His legs are spread too wide, both hands on the gun. He’s lost his edge, and for the first time Dean’s completely sure that he was telling the truth earlier. No one is good enough of an actor to completely change their posture for a character. This Sam moves and acts, hell, even breathes different from how he’d done it just yesterday. “Put down the gun.”

Dean needs to smash that fountain. This is hell; the way Sam’s looking at him now compared to the way he looked at him yesterday. He wants to cry. He’s lost his brother again, and he might not even get him back. Or you. Somehow knowing that he could have gotten them both back makes it so much worse.

“Don’t fucking contact me again,” his brother spits. He sets the gun down and hightails it out of the room.

“Wouldn’t want to!” Dean yells after him.

When the maid comes in to clean later, she finds the entire room has been wrecked.

Dean runs the bulldozer over that stupid fountain once, then twice, then three times, until the stone is just dust under its wheels, and then he hits the wheel once when nothing happens. Maybe Sam had been faking it after all, a cruel trick he’d devised, or he really was helping the FBI find Dean. At this point, he wouldn’t even care if he was arrested. Knowing his luck, Sam would be the one to prosecute him, too.

Dean revs the engine of the bulldozer and starts to pull it forward, but it jerks to the side so violently he’s thrown out of the car, falling, falling, falling…

Falling right into a bed.

Dean and Sam wake up with identical gasps of air, Dean in the motel room and Sam in the car.

Sam throws himself over the seat, waking you up as he hugs you to his body tight enough to strangle you.

“Uncle!” you joke-wheeze and tap his arm. “Sam, what gives?”

Sam pulls away just enough to let you breathe and buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. He doesn’t think he’ll ever let you go now that you’re in his arms for fear of you disappearing or worse. Being able to smell you and run his hands up and down your arms reassures him that you’re really here and not dead anymore, thank God.

“I just had a really bad dream,” he finally mutters.

You smooth down his bedhead absently. “Clowns or midgets? Did I save you from them?”

Before Sam can answer, the Impala’s door opens and Dean catapults himself into the hugfest wearing only his boxers. The girl he’d brought home stands in the doorway of the room, watching with confusion.

“Let me guess,” you laugh, gladly accepting Dean’s hug as well, “you had a bad dream too?”

“You have no idea,” Dean replies, his eyes meeting Sam’s over your head.

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes

[goopeculiar]

pairing: jongdae/joonmyun. word count: 1200. rating: PG-13. a/n: surprise. :))))))))))

~*~

“Who the fuck even gets a cold in the middle of fucking summer?” Jongdae whines miserably. He's curled up on one end of his couch, wrapped up in upwards of twelve blankets even though it's absolutely sweltering outside, and he's fully convinced this will be the end of him.

On the other end of the couch, as far from Jongdae as possible, sits Joonmyun, who frowns at Jongdae's foul language. At least that's what Jongdae thinks he's doing. All he can see of Joonmyun's face is his eyes, everything else is covered by a mask in an attempt to keep away The Germs. Joonmyun's immune system has always been notoriously shoddy. “Someone who runs on four hours of sleep a night, substitutes meals with coffee and considers pizza a vegetable.”

“Okay, I'm too sick to come up with a proper snarky comeback right now, but know that I resent everything you just said.” Joonmyun rolls his eyes. That Jongdae can see.

Reaching into his canvas tote bag – because he is a Responsible Human Being who's conscious of recycling and cares about the environment and stuff – Joonmyun pulls out a styrofoam bowl of soup covered in foil. “Here. This actually has real vegetables in it. And nutrition.”

“Blasphemous,” Jongdae hisses, outraged.

“I know, foreign concept.” Joonmyun pulls off the foil to release tendrils of steam, and Jongdae has to admit that it does smell pretty good. He is nothing if not stubborn, though, so he turns his nose up at it. Joonmyun looks very unimpressed. “Stop being so fussy and eat your soup like a big boy.”

Jongdae pouts. “Then feed me,” he demands, sniffling for effect, and Joonmyun rolls his eyes again, but sticks his hand into the tote bag again and comes back out holding an extendable spoon, which tells Jongdae two things he probably already knew. One: Joonmyun is a whole ass nerd. Two: he knows Jongdae far too well, seeing as he had seemingly already assumed that Jongdae would ask to be fed. Has he become too predictable?

“I need to leave soon, though. Lunch is only forty-five minutes.” Joonmyun somehow manages to wield the oversized utensil without spilling any soup at all between the bowl and Jongdae's mouth. A remarkable feat, truly. He probably spent a large number of his solitary Friday nights practicing with the thing. In Jongdae's eyes, Joonmyun is just one fuzzy feline friend away from ending his days as the rare breed that is a male crazy cat lady.

Aaand the soup is actually really good. Curses. Jongdae hates when Joonmyun is right about nutritional value. “Thank you for wasting your time on me. You're a true pal.” A wild compliment appeared. Compliment used distract. It's super effective!

Joonmyun hums. He's very much focused on steering the spoon towards the right facial orifice, brow furrowed cutely over his face mask. “A true Mom Friend,” he says and makes airplane sounds to convince Jongdae to open his mouth. Jongdae huffs and nearly splatters soup all over himself.

“At least you're self-aware,” he mumbles around a mouthful of chicken and something that is possibly this carrot thing Jongdae remembers having heard of before. Joonmyun coos and praises him for eating so well, and Jongdae would kick him, but then he'd have to stick a body part out of his blanket cocoon, and he's just so damn comfortable right now. He wiggles to sink a little deeper into the couch. “Honestly, you're more like a Daddy, though.”

The elongated spoon falters in its path and droops sadly to dispense its load onto one of Jongdae's one dozen blankets. Joonmyun's eyebrows are nearly crawling off his face with how high they've shot up. Jongdae, mortified, wants to die a little more than he already did. “Excuse me?”

“Hah. Y-you know, like... daddy-o. Hah hahhh.” Jongdae does finger guns. His hands aren't even visible, his entire body is swathed in blankets. It is futile. He could roll off the couch and scamper off like a panicked caterpillar, but then he would have to drop down onto the mountain of tissues that has accumulated by his side throughout the day, and he's just not about that snot-soaked life. This means that the only option is to confront the problem head on. Fuck. That is literally his least favorite option. Under the current circumstances, he doesn't have the mental wherewithal to Deal With It. “Uhhh, ignore me. Hah. That's just the cold medicine talking. Haha.”

During Jongdae's entire Inner Debate Debacle, Joonmyun has picked the extendable spoon back up and calmly resumed feeding him the rest of the soup. “You didn't take any medicine. I made you wait until after you'd had something to eat. Remember?” Damn. Foiled again.

Jongdae sits up straighter. The conversation they're about to have seems like a 'sitting up, pants on' kind of conversation. He doesn't know where his pants are. Okay, scratch the pants. “Listen,” he says, leaning closer even as Joonmyun leans back to avoid The Germs. “I get the urge to kiss you more often than someone should normally get the urge to kiss their friend. You feel me?” He kind of wishes he had the full use of his hands right now instead of being stuck as some weird blob creature with just a face. Three parts blanket, one part human, all sniveling mess.

For a moment, Joonmyun is quiet. Then he pulls down his mask so his entire face is visible – he, too, seems to understand that this is Serious Business (he's even wearing pants!). “Well,” he says. “If you weren't sick right now, I'd very much like to kiss you back.”

“Really?” Jongdae wheezes. His chest hurts. Is that because of his cold or because his heart is pounding so hard?

Joonmyun smiles, and Jongdae now knows that the aforementioned chest pain is primarily heart palpitation-based. “Definitely. Do you think I'd spend my lunch break getting soup and medicine for just any one of my friends?”

“Knowing you, yes.”

“Okay, you're probably right,” Joonmyun relents. He boldly reaches out to brush Jongdae's greasy, sweat-matted hair off his forehead, smiling fondly.

Jongdae had expected to live with his unrequited crush in secret for a very long time, perhaps forever, but even so, he had had the typical, embarrassingly romantic ideas of how his confession would go. He imagined it would involve fancy clothes and luxurious food and maybe a string quartet. It would not involve Jongdae being snotty and sneezy, styrofoam soup and Joonmyun's phone going off. And yet he doesn't think he would ever want anything other than this. “Work?” he asks, inclining his head in the direction of Joonmyun's chiming phone.

“I set an alarm for when I would have to leave to go back,” Joonmyun confirms. He doesn't sound like he wants to. Jongdae doesn't want him to, either, but he doesn't stop Joonmyun from standing up and walking towards the front door. “I'll come over later, and we can... talk? Okay?”

“Okay,” Jongdae agrees. He rests his chin on the back of the couch so he can watch Joonmyun bend over to pick up his shoes. Jongdae can't wait until he gets over this cold.

~*~

ps. this story was brought to you by yours truly getting sick on literally the very first day of my summer break... who the fuck even gets a cold in the middle of fucking summer?

pps. v sure I already used “accidentally calling someone daddy” in another story, but I am still reeling from that one time when dan accidentally(???) called connor franta daddy in that one video so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ppps. thank you all for being here still, hearteu hearteu bbyong. ♥

[sweetsushiminnow]

Treat Headcanons

This is for if someone they are quite comfortable with, are baking in the kitchen. (and totally not inspired by me making peppermint bark.)  They are all SFW but because this is a long one, I’m putting this one under read more.

Yusuke: Watch it for this boy, he’ll joke his way into stealing more than a taste of your treats. Don’t get too distracted by him otherwise your plate of brownies will be missing 3-4 squares. 

Licking the beater is “too childish,” yet he’ll bitch if you put the covered beaters in the sink. Also he doesn’t help you at all, maybe if you need him to get you more butter.

Kuwabara: He’d be the one who’ll accept the beater full of batter. Sometimes he’ll use his tongue to get through the bars, otherwise times he’d use his own fingers. He’d be helpful in the kitchen, or tries to be at least. Unlike a certain former spirit detective, he knows that when he gets the finish product, it’s earned. Sure baking into manly, but what else isn’t manly, not helping and supporting your partner.

Kurama: If you’re a new baker, he’ll try to help, it’s not his forte, he prefers cooking than baking. If you’re comfortable in the kitchen, he’ll sit and read a book/ mind his own business. Really he’s there in case you have to get more ingredients and you either want him to go grab them or him for you. In case of injury, he’s there with a first aid kit.

Hiei: Depending on what you make, this might be the only time you see this boy near your vicinity. Like Kurama, he’s more of a passenger to these things. He’d much rather use his skills from doing various crimes to steal a piece of cake if you don’t offer it to him first. Like Yusuke, you’ll see more than 1 cookie missing from the batch. This is only if he likes what you make. If you hurt yourself, he’ll call you a fool as he tosses you a band-aid. Try to hide some of his absolute favorites treats, cus they make great bribing chips.

Koemna: He makes a better taste tester than anything. The only other use this guy has for you is preheating the oven to the desired temperature. Sometimes he can be sassy and get a taste of the batter before it’s poured into a proper container, other times he’s a complete gentleman and waits to be asked to taste test the finished item. It all depends on his mode and yours.

Keiko: Total helper, sometimes can be a bit overbearing. “No, it said 3/4 cups of milk, not 2/3rds. DON’T PUT 3 CUPS OF OIL IN THE BROWNIE BATTER DO YOU WANT PEOPLE TO HAVE THE SCREAMING SHITS!” She’s only that excitable if you’re that dumb or that much of a troll. You two could end up burning your product if you don’t keep a watch on it during the down time. Keiko’s pretty good at making sure her they are done just right. Prefers making things from scratch.

Shirzuru: Good baking skills for homemade goods, somehow fucks up on the box stuff. Some can be minor details, others can be “accidentally” putting 3 cups of oil in her brownies for Yusuke. She’s a much better cook than baker, which well, isn’t saying much. As Kazuma got older, she did get more adventurous with recipes. Don’t make with Shizuru, because she either will make you do the whole thing, or she takes over, it’s one or the other.

Yukina: She LOVES baking and cooking, but enjoys baking more because she can eat her treats. The more she does it, the more of a natural she is. She also loves wearing the cute aprons that you can put your utensils in the pockets. One day this girl will be on cupcake wars or something. She loves to use her own creativity and trying something more original with the recipes she gets. Yukina ends up giving you small tastes, which get smaller and smaller as more confident she gets in the kitchen. One day you’ll be her Kurama lol.

Botan: Doesn’t bake at all. Is like Yukina where she can see the fun in it, but this clumsy girls ends up burning her finger in the oven, dropping her pans, and gets way to distracted that her stuff burns. She’d rather eat your treats than help you make them. Although she’s always up for whisking, she can whisk some real good eggs,

Genkai: Fuck all that shit. She’ll get you the shit you need, let you use her kitchen, and leaves. Just don’t burn her hose down. She used to make stuff in her youth, but that was a long time ago.

Chu: “Can you make beer dip? Beer Bread? Thanks, you’re a real ripper.” He’s not one for the sweet bakes, sure a sugar cookie here and there is fine, but he prefers salty and savory types of dishes. He’s not gonna be much help either other than taste tester.

Rinku: This lil shit right here is worse than Yusuke and Hiei combined. The only thing he’s helpful for is licking your beaters and bowl clean. Otherwise he’s bothering you with conversation when you need to concentrate and then leaves you be when you do have the down time. Of course he comes back in time to see the finish product. Unlike Hiei, he does wait for it to cool down and keep its shape before literally stealing all of it for himself. Sometimes he doesn’t care if you’re there, if you’re a defenseless human, he’ll just take it. Be sure to have someone around you.

Jin: Between Yusuke and Koemna. He’s more or less talking faster than the oven can bake your goods. He doesn’t have the patience to wait for them to cool, so he makes a light breeze to speed up the process. This boy is a sucker for anything chocolate, and have not one, but two sweet fangs. He loves licking the batter off the beaters and will double dip his finger into it too. So watch it for this guy. Still, he’s too cute to not have around. If you make his absolute favorite, his ears wiggle like no tomorrow.

Touya: Would stick his nose up to the idea of helping you out, but when he does, he actually enjoys baking. Not traditional, and really, he prefers decorating your treats than making them. The detailing can be super intricate, but he has the skills and patience to accomplish some beautiful artwork on what any size canvas you give him. Of course if this boy is being playful, he will dip his finger in the batter lol.

Suzuka: You’d think he’d enjoy at least watching you bake. This boy has no interest in the process, and sometimes not even interested in the results. Really the only time he shows any interests is 1. You made something he’d enjoy, or 2. Touya is decorating. To him, there are better things to do than stand near a hot oven waiting for yeast to rise. Same with cooking, he’s just not a kitchen sort of person.

Shishiwakamaru: Similar boat as Suzuka and kurama, the kitchen is not his thing, but he will at least sit with you in it and keep you company. If you happen to make his favorite treat, he’s gonna make sure you see his finger dip in the batter and sink through his shit eating grin. He’ll take a light smack from you or you trying to shove him out of the vicinity, just because it’s funny seeing a human get wiled up. He’ll behave afterwards, don’t worry.  Unlike the others, he’ll actually ask to have a finish product. He won’t just up and steal it, because he wouldn’t be in the same room as you willingly if he didn’t like you in the first place. 

Bonus

Elder Toguro: Would be the most helpful S.O.B in the damn kitchen if he wasn’t such a creepy asshole. He’d make lewd remarks just to get under your skin and you’ll be missing half your ingredients in the process. Don’t ever bake with this man, he’ll constantly request red velvet and make disgusting comments about the batter and compare it to you, his previous victims, and make other unsightly remarks. Please for the love of all things good, don’t be near this man.

[melchixr]

Neon Bowling Alley

Anon said: Prompt: Hänchen and Ernst go bowling. E has never been bowling before but finds out he's super good. H is a bit upset about it because when E tries to kiss him he doesn't kiss back. E tries to make him happy again... (take that last part as you will *wink* )

So I’m lowkey bringing back the photographer Hanschen and reluctant model/art student Ernst. forever my favorite AU

words: 909

Out of their whole group, Hanschen was easily the best at bowling. He almost always reached over a hundred and fifty points without missing a beat. Melchior was easily the worst, barely reaching 50 most of the time. And the fact that there was no chance of competition between the two made his blood boil.

“It's not fair,” Melchior would groan and sip his coke whenever Hanschen got a strike. And it didn't help him that they decided to go bowling at least once a month. Hanschen won hands down every time, with either Thea, or Otto coming up as a far second.

And that was it. Once a month, always on a Friday when everyone was finished with classes or work, they'd all go out to Globe Bowling Alley. Thea would keep score and make sure there was always a full pitcher of beer, partially because she was much much worse than Melchior. Anna would proudly use the little dinosaur ball guiders and always ask the employees if her wheelchair needed bowling shoes. And Georg didn't hesitate to accidentally break the computer at least once a night. Never anything out of the ordinary.

That was until Hanschen put inviting Ernst on the table.

They had already been dating for a few months, with most of their relationship being fairly private. It mostly just consisted of them sitting around Hanschen's apartment, with Hanschen insisting at least one mini photo shoot every time he visited.

When his collection of photos of Ernst growing, he had decided it was finally time to introduce the entire group as one.

And the bowling alley was practically perfect.

“Baby, please, trust me,” He instructed Ernst as they pulled into the half full parking lot. Neon lights lit up his boyfriend's face, causing a glare in his wire rim glasses. It bounced pink and blue off his tan skin, covered in soft curves and dimpled cheeks and a starry sky of freckles. “They'll love you. I swear. “

Ernst looked up from his lap with big for eyes. “How do you know that, Hans.”

“Because I love you, dummy,” The blond laughed before fixing his sweater and stepping out of the beat up Volkswagen Bug he drove even though he had plenty of money to get a new one. He only paused to lock his hand with Ernst's before bounding into the building proudly.

And by the end of the night, Hanschen was absolutely right. They all adored Ernst entirely. And he was also absolutely crushed.

He looked up at the screen taunting him in bright blue and green. Final frame and he was at 165 points. Which would have easily been a win if Ernst wasn't currently at 188.

And the worst part was, he didn't even seem to care. He was enjoying a plate of fries with Wendla and showing Melchior pictures of his best friend who he was ‘so sure they'd be perfect together’.

“Hanschen,” Georg muttered and nudged him into action. “Wake up. It's your turn.”

Hanschen just scoffed in reply before taking another sip of the cheap beer. “What's the point? Ernst is gonna win anyway.”

“What? How is that possible?” the bespectacled boy looked up at the screen only to confirm what Hanschen had just said. “Well would you look at that. The king has fallen from his throne.”

“This isn't some fucking joke,” Was all the blond replied with before his friend shrugged and walked away. Everyone probably just assumed Hanschen was a drama queen. Which wasn't wrong, but it was still pretty offensive.

He stayed there in his uncomfortable shoes and scratchy button up with fish all over it that he only wore because Ernst called it cute once. And he didn't move until he heard the soft voice of Ernst right behind him. “Baby, come on, it's your turn!” He felt the touch of Ernst's hands on his shoulders. They were soft and familiar, worn down from the years of running them over course canvas, flipping the pages of old books, and molding clay for an endless number of hours.

“You do it for me. You'll just end up getting a strike anyway,” He grumbled in reply.

Ernst scoffed. “Oh come on, don't be like this,” the younger boy leaned over Hanschen's shoulder. His light green eyes met with Hanschen's blue. “Are you mad that I'm beating you?”

“No….”

Ernst only giggled before pecking his boyfriend's cheek. “You're going to have to get better then. Melchior invited me to join you guys from now.”

“Oh god no.”

The younger boy broke into a fit of giggles before taking a step forward to stand right in front of Hanschen. With his hands on his hips and a goofy grin, he continued. Albeit, Hanschen found himself staring at Ernst's smile as if it were the key to life on earth. But he managed to catch the tail end of what Ernst was saying, which was, “...And being a sour second place won't get you anything.”

“What do I get if I'm not?”

Ernst just smirked like the Cheshire cat, green eyes shimmering with mischief. Hanschen didn't hesitate to hop to his feet and run to the ball return fetching his own ball. His mind was already racing when he felt Ernst kiss the nape of his neck. “Thanks, Hansi, promise I'll make it up to you.”

“You better, asshole,” He scoffed in reply. “Or get worse at bowling.”