#i wish i had more coherent thoughts but like. jesus christ.

[apocalypticdemon]

so i'm finally reading through the terror scripts and i think this was designed to cause me physical pain.

crozier was supposed to be drinking to schubert..... god

[fandomfluffandfuck]

ngl the way sebastian's hair looked at the american cinematheque event is what i would imagine it to look like after he gives head like it's all messy and disheveled & he's all glassy eyed & buzzing bc of the praise like oof i have some thoughts on thisss

related to this (also in gif form)

Liz 👏🏻 you're 👏🏻 so 👏🏻 fucking 👏🏻 right 👏🏻

It's the perfect kind of disheveled 😮‍💨😮‍💨 driving me absolutely insane because it's all I can think about since those photos first dropped

Like, just imagine--

The glittering, golden remnants of Chris' sinful praise still rings in Sebastian's ears even after Chris has long since stopped talking, filling the space instead with a whole lot of quiet, shallow panting. Nothing coherent. He's catching his breath after having it kicked--rather, more aptly sucked--from him.

All his praise is a honed dager slicing into Sebastian, cutting him into peices with arousal; lust flowing and flowing from the sharp-edged blade in until he's bleeding arousal out, too, not just rushing heat in his veins but outside his body, too, through the throbbing, perfect wound Chris leaves him with. Sebastian wishes he'd plunge deeper and twist. It feels so fucking good.

His words are always heavy, almost as titillating as touching itself--hands caressing, sliding, groping.

Chris had been saying lot of words, all of them cut through with groans and gasping swears about his "fuckin' mouth," and how "yes, yes, ohmygod, Seb, baby, that feels s'good," 'cause he's "too talented" at taking Chris' dick down his throat. Humming around it, swallowing, licking, and sucking when he can--when he's not just being used with it.

Pounded by it.

Deep.

Yeah, Jesus Christ, Sebastian's ears are ringing. And arousal and need still pollute his body along with the praise, opened by Chris' intrusion.

He's got more than that, too. It's an onslaught of sensation inside him. Nerves crackling, warmed enough to spit.

His knees ache, and so does his jaw. His eyes are glassy, leaving him to stumble through the blurry interior of their house, trying to fumble his way on watery knees to their bathroom, and, oh, somewhere, at some stretch of the hallway, it comes to his dulled attention that he's breathing harder than he thought he was.

Too, his body suddenly calls attention to his mouth. He was, abstractly, thinking of it and feeling it already, seeing as he's just been using it to tempt a rushing, tumbling orgasm from his boyfriend, but... It's less about his throat now. He was feeling it in his throat before. A little raw. A lot stretched. Now, he's oh-so aware of his lips. He doesn't need to see them to know that they're swollen, red, and wet. His crackling nerves can tell him that.

When he licks them, they're sensitive, all buzzing and tender, from the obscene abuse of being nothing but a hole for Chris to plunder. Ruin.

Sebastian shivers, sinking down an inch against the hallway wall before pulling himself together enough to stagger another step forward. His breathing is hard, jagged. If it were cold enough, he'd see big, heavy clouds of it hanging in front of his face. Jesus. Swallowing just makes every step harder. There's nothing he wants more than to give into the whimpering, neediest part of him that insists in his mind, throwing a fit, that he turn his ass right back around and crawl back to Chris. He wants him in his mouth again right now. He's too empty. He has so much cold, dull space in his mouth that could be hot and wet and full.

Fuck.

Chris should know better than to lay around their home in sweatspants with nothing on underneath, no matter if it's laundry day or not. Further, he should especially know not to do it on a day when Sebastian has a pre-determined, non-negotiable deadline for when he has to leave the house to go to an event he has to be there for. Sebastian isn't to blame! No way. It's not his fault. It's not a weak rebuttal. Nope. It's perfectly logical reaction--natural, even.

When Chris is manspreading, Sebastian loses all capability of looking ahead for possible consequences of sating his oral fixation. There is suddenly nothing but that need. His mouth: empty. Chris Evans: right there for the having. Filling. Who wouldn't lose it? Who, if they don't already have an oral fixation, wouldn't develop one from having regular, fantastic sex with none other than Christopher Robert Evans?

Another handful of not-straight steps journeying into the bathroom allows Sebastian the luxury of enough working braincells to try and straight his clothes, plucking and tugging them back into some kind of order, metaphorically dusting himself off after spending ten maybe fifteen minutes on their clean (other than the dog hair) living room floor. As he rearranges his clothes, Seb finds himself sure that the tell-all of his debauched, unable-to-be-helped behavior will be the line of his very erect cock pressing against his slacks and tenting them. That, or, it'll be the swollen, reddened pillows of his lips after being stretched around Chris' perfect, hard, fuckin' thick shaft, worshipping it the way it deserves. But--

Actually, wobbling into the bathroom on his fawn-like legs and pressing himself flat to the back of the door for some semblance of stability, and then turning his head to meet himself in the mirror, huh, he finds that the confession-giver is his hair.

The mop of his brown hair, previously styled to be slicked back, neat and out of his face, has been just as thoroughly defiled as the rest of him feels.

It's sticking up everywhere, obviously, thoroughly, gloriously fucked-up by none other than Chris Evans big... strong... thick hands. Hands that're good for petting... good for pulling... good for slapping... good for too many unspeakably filthy actions that cause Sebastian's tratorious fucking mouth to water embarrassingly. He can literally feel his salivary glands working. Tingling.

At the same time that he flushes with the sizzling hunger rising to the back of his throat, Seb realizes his reflection is gawking, mouth open.

He shuts his mouth with an audible click.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He sways forward, hands planting themselves palm-down on the counter top, leaning in harder, head hanging a little lower, just trying to fucking keep it together. Keep himself together. He can do this. He can gather himself enough to not look like an absolute slutty mess, discombobulated and spacey, when wandering outside. He needs a head on his shoulders to answer questions and to speak to fans. He, for once, won't look so lost. He'll, he's... he'll, yeah, he'll just splash some water on his face. Just. He immediately, desperately has to think of anything but Chris' fucking hands and how much he wants them pulling his hair and biting at his waist, bruising him with his fingertips, prying him open and writing his name inside him.

He, like, has to go. Now. Or he'll never leave. And he's already spent too long drifting--fantasizing with his eyes open about everything Chris can do to him, all the ways he cuts him open and lavishes him with pleasure--letting his thoughts carry him far, far away from the bathroom. So, Christ, now, he doesn't even have time to re-style his hair.

Chris is terrible, though, because he has no sympathy for Sebastian's absolute peril. He just chuckles, voice low, lips stretched in a lazy, handsome grin as he watches Seb stumble out the door, nearly forgetting his wallet and keys, from beneath heavy eyelids.

It's not his fault!

It's Chris'!

Love that I wasn't going to write anything for this, just a quick paragraph or two, and then it turned into that, haha. I just can't stop myself 😏

[slightlyunconventional]

its 2am and op needs sleep (2.1k)

hi d/abihawks nation here is your food for the day (more to come in the foreseeable) aaand yeah. this is from an ask i got that i didn’t answer with this because it had three parts to it and i wanted to actually do all three ?? idk. anyway if youre the anon who asked for d/abi inducing with his piercings then this is for you :)

The fuck kind of time to wake up is this? Dabi thought, squinting at the digital alarm clock beside the bed. 4:16AM, it reads. Still dazed, he rolled over with a huff and got ready to go the fuck back to sleep - until it hit him.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” he hissed, as an itch that felt like wildfire crashed into his sinuses like a freight train, rendering him unable to form a coherent thought for a good few seconds. He sat up. The motion somehow made the burn triple in intensity. He scrunched up his nose forcefully, waiting for it to succumb, for the itch to peak, but it didn’t. It felt like it was taking over his entire face, an incessant buzzing that wouldn’t back down, half-closing his eyes and forcing him to keep his nose held in a permanently-crinkled position. Dabi dared to rub at it, knuckles pushing back and forth rather aggressively, and instantly regretted what he’d done. The contact seemed to set alight a million different nerve endings, and he decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck me,” Dabi managed to breathe out. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom, the whole way squinting against the inferno plaguing his nose. The burn was near unbearable now, like flames licking at the tender inner walls of his nostrils, yet still nothing came of it. Even switching on the horrendously bright bathroom light in Hawks’ apartment, which usually managed to tease a sneeze or two from him, had no effect. Christ, he just wanted to go back to sleep. Eyes narrowing further due to the harsh transition from dark to light, Dabi moved to the sink and turned on the faucet. With a deep breath in, he splashed the cold water on his face a few times, and gave his full face a rather aggressive scrub with both hands for good measure. He stood up to find it had done absolutely nothing, and now he just had a wet face. Awesome. Why, for the love of fuck, was this happening? he thought in frustration. Could it have picked a more inconvenient time?

He grabbed a towel and dried off his face, rubbing with particular force at his nose (though still keeping low expectations that it would actually make a damn difference). The itch burned with ferocity, but remained stagnant; Dabi just wished it would either do something or piss off. For a man who normally despised sneezing - everything about it, the feeling, the loss of control, the vulnerability of it all - he seemed pretty desperate to do it now. He was running out of options, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to go wake up Hawks and make him stick a feather up his nose. There was probably a box of tissues in here, somewhere, he was sure, judging by how awful Hawks’ allergies got in the spring… bingo. It didn’t take long to find, just a few moments of staring into the medicine cupboard with one hand knuckling absently at the side of his nose. The dark-haired man pulled a few from the box, irritated, and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. The ever-present itch had his nostrils practically pulsing with need, and a handful of tissues suddenly pushed up to his nose really didn’t help. Hell, it was almost stinging now, and it was torturous.

“Shit,” Dabi breathed, as he began to rub his nose in slow, deliberate circles through the tissues. The sensation was all-consuming - he became completely laser-focused on the way the itch prickled ever so slightly with his movements. It was like the light at the end of a tunnel. He just had to will it to rise in intensity, just enough to make him– “...h-hhuh!” His breath caught, even if only slightly. Fuck, he was close, so damn close. In his mind he was begging for it, for relief, and he daren’t even move, for fear of losing the– damn it. The sting backed down just as quickly as it had come about, forcing Dabi to let out the breath he was holding in a short, irritated sigh. He couldn’t just go back to bed, not while this itch was still wreaking havoc in his face. But, it wasn’t like he had many choices left. The only thing he knew that really set him off was cats, and he was fairly sure bathrooms didn’t come preinstalled with a litter of kittens. Stubborn as ever, he refused to just give up and go sleep again - but what could he really do? Sit and wait it out, hoping it would just go away? Or go back to trying to make himself- hold on. Dabi suddenly remembered the absolute mess he’d been when he first pierced his nose (in this very bathroom, as a matter of fact). The needle had hardly been halfway through the cartilage before his chest was stuttering with rapid hitching breaths that had very quickly turned into fits of desperately itchy (and bloody) sneezes, untameable to the point where he had no input in the, well, output. He’d simply had to sit and let them barrel through him in awful tickly waves. He didn’t know why he’d sat through three rounds of that just for a triple nose piercing. One would have been plenty. 

Dabi pushed himself up from the edge of the bath, binned his tissues, and moved back to the sink. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, running a tired hand over his face and sighing. His hand brushed lightly against the side of his nose, sending jolts up his sinuses, and he decided he couldn’t tolerate another second of such torment. The thought to pierce his nose again flitted briefly through Dabi’s mind, but was quickly dismissed. Imagine how that would go down. “Hey, you’ve got another piercing,” Hawks would say. “Oh, yeah, I had to sneeze really fucking badly last night so I did what any sane person would do - gave myself a fourth nose piercing!” Dabi rolled his eyes at the thought. He went for the next best thing - messing around with his current piercings to try and make something happen.

He leaned in closer to the bathroom mirror, well aware that he looked an absolute sight for sore eyes, red-rimmed nostrils and an oversized t-shirt hanging awkwardly around his frame proving an… interesting combination. Christ, what am I doing, he thought, as he took a silver stud between his fingers and began to twist it - and, hell, the effect was instantaneous. Immediately, the tickle reared its head, intensified tenfold from before, and all but consumed him. There was nothing he could do to stop his jaw from slackening, his eyes from fluttering shut, his nostrils from flaring to nearly twice their size– “Shit, shit, s-shiihh–!”

Breaths rising in his chest, pitchy and desperate, Dabi let out a string of curses and stumbled backward, almost losing his balance as the need to sneeze took over him such that he couldn’t possibly think about anything else. He braced a hand against the edge of the sink to keep upright, drew in an immense gasp, and pitched forward at the waist– “hh’hhahH’DDSHHhhew! Hohhh, God, fuck me…” The sneeze that followed was harsh, scraping, and instantly relieving. But Dabi soon found that he was nowhere near done, and snapped forward with a trio of back-to-back sneezes, equally intense as the first.

“huhH’HDJJSHHh! ‘gGKSHHh’uh! hah’DSHHh’iew!” He straightened up to try and catch his breath, but his nose tingled in a way which meant there was guaranteed to be more sneezing to come. He was about to cast his gaze up to the light fixture on the ceiling to try and coax it out prematurely, until he saw a glimpse of red in his peripheral vision - Hawks. Shit. How long had he been standing there? Dabi looked at him, unsure of what to say. The hero was sure to have a barrage of questions for him, he could already imagine it: Are you getting sick? Allergic to something? Oh my god–is it me? Did I use a new… something? I’m so sorry, are you okay? He was leaning on the doorframe in a loose-fitting shirt that Dabi had sacrificed (cut holes in the back of to accommodate Hawks’ wings) and wearing an expression that was a blend of sympathy and amusement. Dabi opened his mouth to speak.

“Bless you,” Hawks said, with a lopsided smile, before Dabi had the chance to say anything.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean t-to… wake you up,” he replied. Fuck, he still needed to sneeze.

Hawks exhaled a little laugh. “It’s okay. You were sneezing pretty damn loudly, it would have been hard not to.” He took a few steps forward and wrapped his hands around Dabi’s arm, absentmindedly rubbing tiny circles with his thumbs.

“Are you okay?” he asked, more of that sympathy now shining through. As predicted, questions. “Yeah, I– fuck, I-I, hhah– needtosneezeagaiihHGKSHHhew!” He sniffled, then used his free hand to rub his nose, hard. “No idea what it is, just… started.” At least it was partially true. He did have no idea what it was, but he wasn’t about to admit to Hawks that he’d actually been trying to make himself sneeze for the best part of half an hour. Hawks frowned. “Bless you,” he said again. “You aren’t sick? A cold, maybe?” There it was again. “No, dumbass, it’s May.” “Who says you can’t get colds when it’s not winter? I get colds when it’s not winter!” Hawks said indignantly. Dabi huffed a laugh. “Yeah, that’s you though. Your immune system’s shi-sh-hhahH’dDTSHHh’uh! Shit.” “Shut up,” Hawks said, swatting his arm. “Sounds pretty itchy.” Dabi pulled a face at that. “Sounds itchy? How can– how– Jesus, fuck, always when I’m trying to t-talk…” “Bless you-!” Hawks said prematurely, tipping his head to the side. “-hhHRRSHHHhew!” The smile on Hawks’ face widened. God, Dabi had thought this would just be one and done, but now he couldn’t seem to stop. It was as if he’d opened some metaphorical floodgates in his sinuses just by twisting his nose studs a bit, and released sneeze after terribly violent sneeze. It would be infinitely easier to deal with without his overly enthusiastic witness, that was for certain. He couldn’t say it wasn’t at least a little endearing, though, in some bizarre way. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sneeze this much before,” observed Hawks, in such a tone that made the statement sound like it was some earth shattering discovery (It wasn’t. Dabi was eternally thankful that Hawks had never bore witness to the explosive fits he got when cats were part of the equation).

From behind the hand scrubbing at his still-burning nose, Dabi raised an eyebrow. “Right…?” he said slowly, “Is that supposed to h-hah–!” This was getting ridiculous. He pinched his nose tightly, brows furrowed and eyes nearly shut. Absolutely not. “There’s no point holding it in now that I’m awake, you know,” Hawks said, a mildly teasing tone creeping into his voice. “Just wanna get a full f-fucking… hhuh– sentence out-! hh’ehHDSZZHhew! h-hhH’RSCHhh’uh!” “Bless you, bless you,” Hawks moved closer towards Dabi, evidently starting to feel drowsy again after having been out of bed, judging by the way he rubbed lazily at his eyes with one hand. “What were you gonna say?” “What?” “Before you sneezed again. What were you gonna say?” Dabi averted his eyes. “I don’t remember.” Hawks snickered quietly. “S’okay… you gonna come back to bed? I’m getting cold,” he said, his head now resting on Dabi’s arm. “Not your personal heater,” was the response, punctuated with an irritated sniffle. Hawks shook his head. “Whatever.”

“Even so, I don’t think you’d really want, well…” Dabi gestured vaguely at his face. He didn’t particularly want to say it out loud. “I don’t mind,” the hero replied softly, “I just want you to get some sleep. Besides, the pink nose is a cute look on you.” He added the last part with a wink, and it earned him a rather affronted scoff and a flick to the forehead. “Fine, let me just–” Dabi pulled a couple of tissues from the box and blew his nose with some force. It seemed to shift something high in his sinuses, which of course triggered a sneeze. The floodgates really had opened. “hh’hehHDDSHHhiew! Jesus Christ, can’t catch a break…” Hawks hummed. “Bless you,” he mumbled again, before starting to lead Dabi out of the bathroom and back to their bed. He paused, however, halfway to the door, and turned around. With a nod towards the tissue box on the counter, he said, “You’d better bring those with you.”

[wetcatspellcaster]

After the recent chapter I had to take a breather and re-read previous ones, where everything was (somewhat) fine.

The way Rose was disassociated because she could feel all the pain, but no fear. The way she was in and out of it. It felt like a very feverish nightmare. It's so painful to read how barely coherent Rose is through the torture, and still trying, trying to find a way out, or at least a reprieve. And the way I laughed at her lamenting on Bhaal's healers. It reminded me so much of the Mirror Universe of Star Trek, where medics were there only to revive enough, not heal.

Am I weird for reading how Orin tortures and still having that little voice say "hot" the way D!urge says to Astarion in the graveyard scene?

I love love love how you use the canon events and twist them just so to make it even more heart wrenching and nightmar-ish, because I always felt like it felt a little bit rushed, all the interactions and especially the aftermath. I love seeing the lingering result of what just happened, more details that were not there in the game.

But reading the torture Rose endured, and that Astarion had seen her after, I have a question. Had this happened in Pieces too? Was Rose kidnapped there too? Because if she was, then it makes Astarion's Ascension even more twisted. Like even in game, if Tav/Durge is his lover, Astarion is not convinced by anything beforehand not to go with the ritual. And if he had seen how horrific all those Chosen are, he could've wanted to Ascend to protect his lover. But he had also seen the injuries , the indignity, the hurt that was inflicted on someone he cares for, and that must sting so much. Oof, this a very interesting concept to think on, that I'm constantly dwelling on since I played the Durge.

Also, I can imagine there could be a fight. And with Rose in this condition... Well, I hope others will take care of it. And I wonder if Gortash is dead now.

I can imagine that Rose will shrug it off, at least pretending to do so, like she had done before, and I will be right there with everyone else enraged at her lack of self-preservation. Shower her with care, rest, and people who love her to make sure she knows she will never be alone. Poor Rose. The things she had survived, she will need years of therapy afterwards, beside the years it will take to sort her phobias. I want to hug her, but it will hurt right now, so I'll just stay here, crying over how strong she is, that she does not need to be that stoic herself that Threnn shaped her into, and I miss her goofiness when she loses that fear of being too emotional. I love her so much. I want her to be healed and as happy as possible.

Thank you for this chapter. I wish you to rest well after the con, and regain your energy with this blueberry cupcake I'm offering. Take care!

I will absolve everyone now, in this moment, like a priest: it is ok to find Orin the Red hot, in anything that I write. It is, in fact, intentional.

I will confirm, Rosalie didn't get kidnapped in Pieces! I sacrificed Grubb there (RIP to a real one), partly to keep my plot twists under wraps, partly so that Rosalie doesn't suffer more than Jesus Christ himself in any given universe, and partly bc I wanted to make one very silly joke about soup. But I do plan for the kidnapping to inflect Astarion's thoughts on Ascendency, perhaps not in the way people are expecting!!! There is something that was teased in Pieces that *is* canon.

And thank you, I'm glad that seeing consequences play out makes the fic interesting!!! In my Rosalie playthrough, she was never ever at risk bc she had a lot of plot armour (a very stressed save-scumming player). I realised early on, that if she sailed through Act 3 it wouldn't make for a very compelling read - lord knows I could see the 'Mary Sue' accusations coming from a mile off. So I thought I'd leverage her major flaws - her lack of self-preservation, her belief that she's more useful with a tadpoel than without one, and her complete lack of tact. Unfortunately, kidnapping is the perfect situation to hit a bunch of character beats for both Rosalie and Astarion, and the perfect place to start raising the issue of what advantages/disadvantages the tadpole provides her with... so I kind of had to do it to her :')

at least it's not a murder? I was thinking about killing her in an earlier outline :'))) at least it's not that right?

[lost-boys-chapter]

I have successfully completed the twok reread!! got through the sanderlanche this afternoon. hoping to get through words of radiance before september as it's the last work month before many a school month meaning my free time is gonna plummet dramatically. anyway

I've not got a bunch to say about the end of this book, considering how much happens. I think most of what we actually learn in twok is resolved in the next few books. but of course who would I be without my rambles?

genuinely one of my favorite moments of this book was when kaladin went around the tower looking for someone in charge and when he couldn't find someone he just looked at one guy and went 'you're promoted.' my man does NOT have the authority and everyone knows it but they're just like. yeah sure why not. kaladin ily.

I do really feel for rlain at this point. not sure I ever really processed how shit his situation was when he revealed himself in (wor or ob?) cus by that point the carapace armor shit has passed but jesus fucking christ someone give that crab therapy. renarin I'm looking at u

KABSAL!! we've been knew by this point that I forgot about him but he was a ghostblood?? mind you not a very good one was he. that was a very cool reveal that I feel like. did actually hit harder in cool points the second time around.

think I'll def begin to enjoy dalinar's pov now again. he's so boring in twok I'm so sorry. but yeah

looking forward to shallan's pov chapters next book. I wasn't really paying attention to Team Scholar the first time around but knowing more of actually what's going on with them now they're like. crazy lore dropping left and right. I wanna see what I can glean from these two now I'm more invested in both their characters and their storylines.

I think wit is suspicious. but I love him. his epilogues are great. I fear his goals will be beyond all of our understanding until it's too late xxx

also the more I reread the more I buy into the city-shattering/continent shattering theory I've seen around. totally forgot about that vision that dalinar has where kholinar shatters. given it was the first one he had I suspect it might be an end-of-book event in kowt. but who knows Brandon's mind is unknowable!!

I've definitely been thinking a lot about the death rattles too. a couple of main thoughts:

does anyone else think the 'I hold the suckling child in my hands....and know that all who live wish me to let the blade slip....and with it gain us breath to draw' one leads into 'so the night will reign, for the choice of honor is life?' it definitely sounds like they're both referring to child champion theory. which I do hate as a theory but I see it.

I think the 'I'm standing over the body of a brother. I'm weeping. is that his blood or mine? what have we done?' one is usually agreed to be about gavilar but I think it's about kaladin and moash. I won't b elaborating.

also the 'I raise my hand. the storm responds' one could so be about dalinar if he becomes a fused. like he loses the battle but still retains some bondsmith powers and now uses them for ✨️evil✨️ or something. who knows.

anyway that's all for now, hopefully about 40% of it is coherent. will be reading the new preview chapters after work tonight or tomorrow but I'm hyped for them !!

[hyunjinspark]

I can‘t even write detailed reviews and theories about SLWY anymore because every chapter leaves me braindead (in the best way). Like, I’m so overwhelmed with feelings after each chapter that I can‘t put them into coherent thoughts and this was no different, but I‘ll try.

Part 14 was different than I expected. I thought that Hyun was gonna be upfront about having to leave earlier. I also expected YN to (try to) talk things out with Lix and Hana. And I imagined the art internship to be a bigger topic, though I‘m sure it‘s gonna be picked up in the following parts. Long story short, I thought it was going to be a lot more angsty and dramatic, almost loud, but I love what you did with this chapter instead. It was a quiet sort of angst. Aside from being unexpected (for me, at least), I feel like despite it not being as sad as Part 13, the chapter had a constant melancholic undertone. I don‘t know if you did on purpose, but to me, it felt like it demonstrated YN headspace very well. She‘s trying to make happier memories, Hyun‘s trying to cheer her up, Yeonjun and our new (and very likable, btw) character Yuqi were there and despite everyone genuinely trying, there‘s a subtle - yet still very palpable - sadness and emptiness about YN and anything that doesn’t have to do with Hyun. I‘ve told you several times before, but the way you so realistically but poetically manage to write YN‘s mental wellbeing, which to me has well crossed into an actual depression-realm is heartbreakingly beautiful.

I love that Hyun and YN are breaking their own rules, but they don‘t constantly talk about said rules all the time as they did before. They‘re still aware of their situation, of course, but it‘s like they‘re letting themselves fall. I mean so many make-out sessions in a single chapter, you truly blessed us. Them constantly getting interrupted (phone calls, people walking in on them etc.) is a good metaphor to remind us (and them) of their situation, but it doesn‘t stop them anymore and I love that for HyunYN! 🥹 Though, I do wonder how much him finding out he has to leave earlier made a difference. ALSO, THE FIREFLY SCENE? JESUS H. CHRIST, YOU LITERALLY KILLED ME! The beautiful scenery and them just laying down in the dirt and making out? And when he… SORRY FOR THE TMI, BUT WHEN HE PUT HIS HANDS IN HER PANTIES AND ASKS IF HE COULD FINALLY FINGER HER WHILE CALLING HER BABY IN THE SAME SENTENCE, I PHYSICALLY CLENCHED. Like, I felt legitimate tingles. I‘m so glad I‘m anonymous because you‘d never catch me admitting that openly. I screamed at my phone when Yuqi interrupted.

The convo with Felix, I honestly think - as much as he sucks (the SLWY version of him, ofc) - he was pretty spot-on about her hurting herself. Though saying she wanted "things she can‘t have" is very harsh and untrue, the initial thought he had I do agree with. She does seem a bit self-destructive because of the positions she puts herself in. Not only with her past relationships, but her current situationship with Hyun, her absolutely disgusting best friends (Lix and Hana), putting all eggs in one basket by only applying to one internship etc. This self-sabotage is very common for people with anxiety, unhealed trauma and depression, it happened to me as well and it breaks my heart seeing her this way, but it is so important that you made this part of the story. YN is such a mesmerizing protagonist, she is insanely likable, but she‘s not perfect. And the faults she does have don‘t make her annoying or weak, instead they‘re realistic and relatable. YN is honestly a very inspiring character.

I‘m already so excited for your poetic and romantic magic in the next chapter and I‘m curious to see how HyunYN will handle his secret being out and if they‘re gonna have an argument about it or choose to ignore it and enjoy their even more limited time together. This is all I can somewhat coherently say about this part, I wish you could look into my brain and how many thoughts I have about this story, but I absolutely loved it. And as always, you‘ve outdone yourself! Sending you so much love!

-👑

hi, my love ! dw, i love reading your thoughts even if they’re incoherent haha

what you said about the angst undertone, i really like that! i understand, it definitely could have gone the other direction and been much more louder, angstier, aggressive, but i knew i wanted it to be more towards the calm before the storm ~

im so happy you like yuqi’s character ! (except the interruption of course) the rules are so forgotten and theyre so far gone…and hyun finding out he has to leave is responsible for a lot of his behaviour this chapter…

i love everything you say about yn’s character, thank you for finding her mesmerising and likeable, i would hate for her to interpreted as annoying (?) even though she has a lot of self-sabotage qualities perhaps.

and the firefly scene… 😄 you made me laugh. thank you for letting me know that you liked it so much . :D

[hannie-dul-set]

“i'll take your word for it and no one else's.” [lee jeno]

SUMMARY | maybe snooping through your friend’s phone wasn’t that much of a good idea. or maybe it was. either way, you didn’t regret it. PAIRING | lee jeno x reader GENRE | friends to something, fluff, lots of bickering JHDFJ WARNINGS | swearing, invasion of privacy (LMAO idk) WORD COUNT | 2.1k TAGLIST | @danishmiilk​ @lucyinthesunshinee​ @sehunniepot​ @nct-writers​ @czennienet​ @neowritingsnet​

a/n: i didn’t think i’d turn another one of my dreams into a fic, but here we are HAHHAHA i tweaked a few bits and pieces to make it work (setting + added some dialogue + changed the ending because i WOKE UP before it could finish hmph) but please enjoy this unscheduled fic!! <3

early summer afternoons were warm.

bright rays of the sun were showering on your skin as you lounged on the park bench, hot enough to make you feel the season but not too hot to singe your skin. it was the perfect weather to waste the day outside, and your younger brother and cousin decided to haul you outside so they can play basketball at the park.

but you didn't know why your friend jeno decided to come along.

"your brother messaged me," he grinned at you, plopping down beside you with a long, refreshed sigh. a towel was slung around his neck and he used it to wipe the sweat on his face. "what? why are you staring at me like that?"

"since when were you close with my brother?"

"am i not allowed to be friends with the little guy?" he joked, but apparently he took the unamused look on your face completely the wrong way. "oh my god, are you afraid that he'll take all my attention away from you?" to further tease, he brought his smug face closer to yours that was dumbfounded in shock, his stupidly irritating smile moving in closer.

sometimes you wondered if this was the same boy who helped you cross the street the first time you met.

but you loved him nonetheless.

"like hell i want your attention," you sneered, lightly shoving him away with a glare. he only laughed at your display of annoyance. "go back to playing with the kids or something, you goof."

the never leaving grin in his face seemed brighter against the sun, and he playfully ruffled your hair before running off to disappear into the court.

"as you wish, m'lady."

you let out a huff of air, rolling your eyes as your cheeks were involuntary tugged upwards, prompting a smile to form on your lips. you brought your hands to your hair, fixing the mess that jeno left with, and your gaze landed on the phone he left beside you. the screen flashed on. someone was calling him.

brows knitted together, you picked up the ringing phone, unable to recognize the caller id. you brought the device to your ear, standing up walking towards the court— you figured that you'd just answer whoever that was now and just pass it on to jeno once he was at reach.

"hello?"

"oh, hello there!" there was a pause from the caller "is lee jeno around, miss? would you mind giving the phone to him?"

the voice was that of a middle aged woman's, but it wasn't someone that you recognized. you assumed it was a relative of his or something because you'd know that this was his mom if it were her. "ah, give me a moment! i'll just look for him."

your feet stopped at the edge of the court, the sound of a ball bouncing into the concrete jarring against your ears. not bothering to look at the scene in front if you, you covered the mic with your hand before deciding to shout.

"jeno! someone's calling you!"

there was no usual prompt answer from your friend.

"he's not here!"

the loud voice of your brother answered instead, causing you to narrow your eyes into the court scene with a tinge of confusion masking your expression. there was indeed no mop of blue hair within the area, and you were only confused even further.

"where did he— aish, nevermind."

scratching your head, you swiveled your heels and decided to just head back to the bench. "hi, sorry. i'm not sure where he is right now. so if it's fine with you, can you call him again later? or maybe i could just tell him to call you back when he returns?"

"oh, then can you just relay this to him? it won't take that long, i promise."

you inwardly sighed, but agreed nevertheless. oh, you were definitely gonna ask him to treat you and the kids dinner later. why the fuck did he just disappear like that? now you were responsible for memorizing whatever this woman was telling you (apparently it was about an architecture summer program he was interested in— the lady was a head from his department and she was just calling to tell him that he was accepted. she says she'll be forwarding more details later through text).

"alright, thank you! i'll be sure to inform him when he gets back."

the call ended, and you groaned. you were about to close the phone, but then all of a sudden a notification appeared with a quiet ding!

[haechan 🌟 liked your retweet.]

ding!

[ohhh shit why do i feel like i know who this is.]

"huh."

you knew that you shouldn't be snooping inside your friend's phone. you knew that you shouldn't be invading his privacy no matter how enticingly juicy the bait was. you knew that it was flat out wrong. but—

"ah, just a peek," you clicked on the notification. "payback for making me deal with his stuff."

a hint of excitement rushed through you. jeno never told you his twitter. actually, you didn't even know he had one. he was always buried with studies, sports, and friends so you didn't expect him to keep up with social media— this fact enough was surprising, but the moment the screen finally loaded the tweet

you were even more surprised than you were a few seconds ago.

[@markly tweeted: "it's kind of funny how sometimes we just meet random people at the most random of moments and you don't expect it but they just end up sticking by your side until now"]

[@leejeno quoted: "yeah. a few years back, i saw this girl while i was walking. it wasn't the usual path that i took to school. i saw her having trouble crossing the street because there was a dog hanging around (she's scared of them) so i decided to help her. she couldn't even look at my face back then out of embarrassment but earlier we were calling until four in the morning. if i took a different path that day or if i didn't help her, i don't know how i'd be like right now because she's become one of the most important people in my life."]

your heart skipped a beat. two beats. three. it was running a mile a minute and you could barely even breathe to catch up.

[@do0 replied: how are you two right now?]

[@leejeno replied: "we're good haha. i'm going with her and her brother to the park later. we're still really good friends.]

[@leejeno replied: but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there."]

"hey, sorry for running off there. i went to get some— whoa. whats up?"

oh my fucking god.

you shot up, eyes wide, and you automatically turned off the phone. broken stutters left your lips, as the leaping of your heart to your throat prevented you from saying even a semblance of a coherent sentence. all you could think of when you met his worried gaze, the way he rushed to your side to check on you, was the last thing you read. your grip on his phone tightened.

but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there

you were gonna fucking lose it.

"hey, are you okay?"

quick, gentle hands landed on your cheeks, fingers brushing against your skin like a match igniting a flame. you nearly got lost and tongue-tied all over again, but you quickly slapped his hands away in a scolding fit. "jesus christ, i'm fine. you just surprised me. are you a ghost or something?" you glared at jeno, but it only lasted one second because you couldn't bear to look at him without your insides going crazy. because of that, your eyes flicked to the plastic bag he dropped onto the bench. he brought you something to eat.

"a-and before you ask—" you defended yourself indignantly when he didn't even accuse you of anything. "i wasn't snooping. the school called. it was about your summer program. you got in."

"oh? they called already?" you nodded. "ah, let's talk while walking— the kids are mad because i only got you food. they're asking me to buy the entire store for them to compensate," he released an airy laugh. you mentally scolded yourself.

keep it cool. you repeated the mantra inside your head as you strided beside jeno, your brother and cousin racing ahead of you. street lights were lighting up and the sky was fading into the night. cool cool cool cool cool. keep it cool.

the walk to the store felt way too gruelling than it normally would. it wasn't even that far. you told jeno everything the lady had told you, including the more detailed texts that she'd be sending later on. you thought that he'd be a lot more excited after hearing— he was interested, after all. but to you, he just seemed dismissive. "should i go?" he mindlessly asked.

"what are you talking about?" your brows furrowed. "yeah, of course. you wanted to, right?"

"but it's gonna last an entire month this summer," he yawed, stretching out his arms and hooking you by the neck, causing you to halt and stumble into him. you held back a squeak, and he looked at you, eyes gleaming with curious anticipation. a car sped by. "you still want me to go?"

those damned words that you read echoed inside your head again. you wondered if it resonated into the fucking nerves of your heart, as well.

"i—i mean," you stammered. "it's only one month. and it would also help you a lot in the future, right? you'd make a lot of connections during the camp. so yeah, i do want you to go."

he blinked at you. a hum sounded from his closed lips. he let go of you and resumed walking. you gaped when he left you behind.

was this karma?

"hey, what the hell?" quickly, you caught up to him, grabbing onto the sleeve of his shirt so that you could hang on to him. "why are you being sulky? i didn't do anything wrong!" technically you did do something wrong, but he didn't have to know that.

"you said you wanted me to go."

"you're a baby," you scrunched your nose is disapproval. "i only said that because you said you wanted to go."

jeno abruptly stopped. maybe you were causing a scene in front of all the passersby, but you really didn't give a fuck anymore when your head was in a looped up mess. all thanks to your extremely difficult friend who apparently doesn't want to just be your friend. you swore that he was driving you insane on purpose.

he pulled out his phone and faced the screen to you. your sweat dropped.

[@leejeno replied: but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there."]

"even after reading this," he started. "you still want me to go?"

"w-well."

he just had to be so fucking sharp. well, you weren't exactly slick either. maybe he saw a glimpse of the screen before you got to turn it off earlier. heat started to rise from your neck into your face, a grinding mixture of embarrassment and desire to be hit by a moving truck afflicting your nerves. why were you the one suffering? shouldn't it be him?

"no."

he hummed, turning off his phone and shoving the device into his pocket. arms crossed, he leaned in to your face, bearing a look of feigned innocence. "but you said i'd make a lot of useful connections."

"you can make those anywhere."

"and it's only a month, right?"

"that's thirty days too long."

"and—"

"oh, come on!" you exclaimed, balling your fists in vexation. another car sped by with an accompanied honk. jeno simply wore a look of faint amusement at your little outburst. "i don't want you to join your stupid summer program. happy now?"

"well, if you say so."

you stared at him. he patted your head, eyes disappearing into a pair of crescents with a smile.

"i'll take your word for it and no one else's."

you were left frozen and dumbfounded in the middle of the sidewalk as jeno brazenly spun his heels to chase after the runaway kids that went before you— literally leaving you behind. letting a curse slip past your breath, you also went after them. he was definitely driving you insane on purpose.

sometimes you wondered if this was the same boy who helped you cross the street the first time you met.

this was one of those times.

"you said you weren't gonna go, you asshole!"

"payback for snooping through my phone!"

but you could still love him nonetheless.

© hannie-dul-set, 2020.

[newtonsheffield]

I love love love love love this Brigerton and sons universe! You’re such an amazing writer! I wish I had even half of your talent!!! 😍 I was just re-reading it from the start and was wondering something (Just me being too involved in this story, sorry!) but how did things go the first night Kate and Anthony slept together. I know there was obviously a lot of passion but was there any awkward bits. I can imagine knowing someone that long and then the relationship progressing might be a bit weird

Oh Heyyyyyyyy

I love love love love love you for reading this ridiculous little universe that I keep forcing into existence with reckless abandon! I think at this point Julia Quinn herself would have to be like “Molly, honey, you have to stop” and then maybe I would consider it. You’re very kind to comment on my writing style which is...chaotic at best but then my character alignment has and always will be chaotic good so can we really be surprised? And Talent? She surely has none (she is me) but I will say this for myself: I’m certainly very determined and indeed I genuinely feel bad for people trying to search for Kate and Anthony content in the tags and have to wade through my relentless posts to find it! 

Ahhh Kate and Anthony’s first night together. It was beautiful and they were both very satisfied. Let’s leave it there. 

I’m kidding, Let’s dive in. (I’ll apologise in advance for it because... it’s...well bad... eh you’ll see for yourself)

Kate Sheffield had been attracted to Anthony Bridgerton for an embarrassingly long time by the time she found herself in the back of a town car with him, his teeth grazing her collarbone in a way that had her spine shivering with anticipation. From the very first time she’d seen him there’d been a little flutter in her stomach when their eyes met that she’d pushed down under layers of frustration and irritation and yes, possibly some denial. But she’d never really thought about sleeping with him, would have honestly never have allowed herself to, and definitely hadn’t intended too tonight. She certainly couldn’t be blamed for whatever images her demented subconscious had twisted into that dream where Anthony’s eyes had burned into hers and they’d moved together and his voice had whispered rough in her ear Come on Sheffield, Let go and she’d woken with a start her hands twisted the sheets and had to stand in the open door of the refrigerator to cool down. And she certainly couldn’t be blamed for the startling frequency with which it recurred.

And honestly, she’d barely been thinking by the time she’d stumbled into the front entrance of his house and he’d pressed her up against the door and whispered “Can I take you upstairs?” His voice like a desperate whine in her ear. And when she nodded a little desperately herself and he growled as he practically dragged her up the stairs, laughing and giggling the entire way, threw open the door of his bedroom with a startling bang! and pushed her firmly down onto his mattress she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to think again. 

By the end of the night she had learned three delightful facts about Anthony Bridgerton  

He was unfairly attractive. And yes, perhaps this shouldn’t have been news to her given the fact he’d had her in a panic every time he’d so much as stood next to her for nearly a year now. But he seemed even more so in this setting. She’d known he would be muscular, could feel it against her finger tips when she’d hastily unbuttoned his shirt, delighting a little in the way the muscles had jumped a little at her touch, as though she held electricity in her finger tips. But it was quite a different thing to see him crouching over her, the moonlight highlighting his face, to feel his muscles, and the powerful tension they carried pressed against her was something different entirely. And suddenly she had the startling realisation that she’d probably never ever be able to look at him across the conference table at work again without thinking about how his stubble had scraped at the inside of her thighs and how is hair between her fingers had felt positively sinful.

He was very generous. He’d pushed her back on the mattress after he’d slid her dress off and his eyes had washed over her and she’d felt the heat of his gaze linger on her lingerie for just a moment before he’d knelt before her, ripping his shirt off that still hung unbuttoned on his shoulders, tugging her firmly towards him and Kate had had time to feel only a little self conscious before he’d looked at her with such longing as his fingers had run little patterns around the tops of her stocking and he’d said This is... This is okay right Kate? As though he was waiting for her to slap his hands away and run crying from the room and the way he was looking at her was so absolutely intoxicating how could she say but God Yes. Please Anthony and the wicked little smirk he’d given her had been sent straight from hell to ruin her she was sure as he dragged her stockings down with his teeth, catching her thighs just a little, and when she’d fallen apart for him three times in embarrassingly quick succession he’d surprised her very much by saying God Kate, I’m so sorry I wanted to wait longer but I can’t wait anymore. And her only coherent thought in her very blissful state had been Jesus what more could you possibly have wanted to do?! But instead she’d pulled him firmly towards her pulling his lips towards hers and whispered Don’t then just before they met. 

He was very chatty. Sure, Anthony had always been vocal enough when they’d sparred verbally across the table. But in general, he was the stoic silent type, only speaking when he had something important to say. And, Kate supposed, perhaps he found this important to say. Talking during sex had never been something Kate had been particularly fond of, in fact during one awful interlude at the end of their relationship Kate had said Jesus Harry can you just stop?! but when Anthony Bridgerton was moaning in her ear. God she thought she might die right then and there. It was relentless. A constant stream of So beautiful, So good, Oh god, Fuck Kate,Perfect and her name whispered like a prayer again and again into the night. And Jesus Christ she couldn’t help herself as their moans mingled together. And when he collapsed on top of her, and she’d made a half hearted attempt to roll away from him after several seconds, even though she loved the sound of his heartbeat slowing in her ear and she was sure if she tried to walk, her legs would collapse from under her if she tried to stand, she’d felt very content when he’d made an exhausted disgruntled noise and pulled her tightly against him again. And truly when he’d whispered I’ve never felt like this before. I didn’t even know I could. She’d had to try her best not to cry

Truly, in the end Kate had been surprised by how natural everything had been, how right it had felt to take this step with a man she’d known for so long and professed to hate so publicly. She’d thought it might be awkward and stilted and that she’d feel desperate to cover herself from his gaze. But honestly, she’d never felt so desired or considered or loved (as terrifying as that was) as she had, right there in Anthony Bridgerton’s bed. That didn’t of course mean she was going to let him get away with things so easily, that she could stop herself from saying 

“That was a real date right?” and being very satisfied by the startled choking noise he made. 

God. I am so sorry. Somebody kill me             

[americanphysco]

levi have you watched fight club what did u think of it (i rmr you saying you hadnt before is why im asking sorry)

I just watched it for the first time today!! it was honestly such a fucking good movie I need to suck david fincher silly for this one. I've been meaning to watch it for years now bc I knew it was one of those movies that drove the girlies insane but I just hadn't gotten around to it until now!! I already knew the twist going into it, so it was fun seeing all the little clues and foreshadowing leading up to the reveal. I also loved how stylized it was. and the little details! like the mention of the ying-yang table in the beginning and the pan over to that exact table after the apartment exploded. it was just such a fun movie to watch and you could see all the love and attention to detail being poured into the film. I wish I had more insightful commentary to make about its themes rn but my mental health has been horrific so instead of having any coherent thoughts I just threw up after watching it. but jesus christ what a wonderful movie. I love stuff about men who suck. cannot wait to rewatch it when I'm feeling more normal. hashtag rip bitch tits bob </3

[flippyspoon]

Walking Home

Note: Okay it’s a boring title. Just a little ficlet about Steve being very cold and eager to get home to Billy who will angrily take care of him lol.

Steve could no longer feel his fingers.

Had he coherent thought in his mind, he might have considered that impulsively loaning his car to Mrs. Henderson had been a bad idea in the dead of winter. But Dustin’s mom had been stuck and he hated to think of her waiting around for rides in the snow or borrowing some unreliable beater from Rex Auto while she waited for her Oldsmobile to get fixed.

Steve had handed her his keys hours ago in the middle of Family Video and she’d practically burst into tears, she was so grateful.

Then he forgot all about it, worked the rest of his shift, bid Robin and Keith goodbye and finished up the register and locked up by himself. They were long gone by the time he remembered and the video store was already locked up and the alarm was set and he couldn’t unlock the alarm once it was set to go back inside without getting in trouble with “corporate” because it was a computerized system and they’d see it on the log later. Robin’s mother would happily have given him a ride. Keith would have given him a ride in his shitty brown Datsun that smelled like cheese puffs.

He could have called Billy for a ride, but it was eight blocks to the first payphone he could think of and since everything was closed, he’d end up waiting in the snow for Billy to come crawling up in the Camaro, the worst car in the world for driving on ice roads, so he had to drive very slow. He calculated that it would be faster to walk and hoped somebody would see him and pick him up.

But nobody saw him. 

It was a Friday and that meant Family Video closed late at ten and most of the shops were closed, especially with the awful weather. No one was out on the street. and it was so dark and the visibility so bad with the snow, Steve feared he’d lose his way even following the road down into the woods to Hop’s old trailer overlooking the lake where he lived with Billy.

It was a much longer walk than he remembered it being in the fall when the weather was nice.

Three miles? Four? 

It was deadly dark and much too quiet and all he thought about as he put one foot in front of the other was how he wished he had his bat at least. It was an eerie night: he couldn’t stop thinking of monsters.

He lost his footing three times and got wet with snow. He was wearing a thermal under a sweater under his best parka. He was wearing a beanie and decent gloves and thick socks under his boots. He felt like he might as well have been wearing a towel for how cold he was. The cold was tiny knives bulleting his skin. The cold had a vendetta. The inside of his nose ached. 

One foot in front of the other down the endless dark road. But the woods... 

Don’t think about monsters.

Think about Billy.

Billy Billy Billy. Billy would be home. Billy would be pissed as hell that Steve had not only loaned out his car but forgotten to call for a ride earlier. Then he wouldn’t have had to wait at all.

Billy would make him drink a shot of whiskey while cussing out Mrs. Henderson under his breath (even though he actually loved Mrs. Henderson now). Maybe he’d rub Steve’s hands and kiss his fingers with his warm, warm lips…

Billy…

The snow wouldn’t stop. It would hit his ankles soon, even in the road.

He wondered if he would get frostbite. How long did that take? Most winters these days, he successfully carted himself from heated shelter to heated shelter. He didn’t worry about things like frostbite. He couldn’t feel his fingers…

And then suddenly he was home. 

He didn’t even remember turning off onto the sideroad into the woods that led to their trailer. He was on automatic pilot. And then there the trailer was with it’s bright yellow light on in front that made the icicles that hung from the porch awning glitter. His boots crunched in the snow as he passed the frozen lake. 

Only now as he came nearer and nearer the steps up to their front door did he feel the terrible ache in his legs. His feet were two giant cement blocks for all he could tell. 

Crunch crunch.

“Steve! Christ!” The door burst open and Billy came running down the stairs. “Where is your car! You did not seriously walk home! Why didn’t you call me! What the hell!”

Steve said something along the lines of: “Hh-huh...uh...ugh.”

Billy all but carried him inside. Steve wasn’t sure. He just felt Billy’s arms around him and seconds later the front door was shut behind him and-

“Ah.” Steve stood frozen in their tiny living room with the ugly brown shag carpeting and the second hand burgundy velour couch and the Sinclair’s old TV with wood paneling. He was home.

He was safe at home with Billy.

He was violently shuddering. He couldn’t speak for how hard his teeth chattered as Billy moved in a blur. Steve was hardly aware of it. He never moved from his spot, but somehow most of his clothes came off. Billy had fluffy clean clothes straight from the dryer. 

“Y-your sw-sweatshirt,” Steve stuttered as Billy shoved it over his head. Billy had a gigantic old Los Angeles Raiders sweatshirt that Steve stole whenever he got the chance because it was the coziest thing in the world to wear and often smelled like Billy. It was kind of like wearing Billy himself. He hummed in relief and then faltered because Billy was moving his feet for him, dressing him in sweatpants and then thick fuzzy socks. 

“Sit the hell down!” Billy commanded, and pointed at the couch. “Goddammit. The Beamer get stuck?”

“M-Mrs...Henderson n-needed it-”

“You had to loan your car to that cow in a blizzard!”

“B-be nice!”

“Why didn’t you call!” Billy bodily moved Steve to the couch where he plopped down, still rather stiff. 

“I forgot.”

“Harrington, I swear to God!” Billy glowered down at him where he winced as he curled up on the couch, rubbing his still freezing hands together. “ Stay there!” He threw the little afghan throw that Mrs. Henderson herself had made for them over Steve’s head before running out of the room with one last: “Goddammit!”

***

“Sure you’re okay there, baby?” Billy rasped.

Steve was wrapped in three blankets, a hot mug of spiked cocoa in his hands which had fully regained feeling. He was cuddled up on the couch with Billy, who would not remove his arm from around Steve’s shoulders. David Letterman was on TV.

“I’m fine,” Steve said for the fifth time. “I swear, I’m fine. But you’re really cute when you’re worried.”

“If you don’t remember to call next time, I swear to God…” But the threat was slightly undercut by the kiss he pressed to Steve’s cheek. “Be more careful, sweetheart. Alright? Jesus. Gonna drive me to an early grave and I’ve already died once.”

“Wow, you love me so much,” Steve said, smirking into his cocoa. “It’s kind of annoying really. You should get a life.”

Billy only snorted at that and tugged on one of Steve’s blankets, pulling it half over himself and snuggling up closer to his boyfriend. “I was about to call the National Guard when you were running late. Look what you turned me into, pretty boy. How’s that whiskey cocoa? You want me to turn the heat up? You want some more mac and cheese?”

“It’s eighty degrees in here and I’m full. Everything is good,” Steve murmured, and took another swallow that pleasantly burned going down. He set the mug on the coffee table and cuddled deeper under the blanket as he reached for Billy. “But you’re better. C’mere and warm me up some more.”

“Oh, I’ll warm you up any time you want,” Billy said, a bit of growl in his voice. He wrapped his arms around Steve under the blanket and kissed him deeply, and Steve revelled in the heat of that talented tongue that Billy so often used to tease. They made out lazily for a bit and then Billy laid soft little kisses along Steve’s throat and then took Steve’s hands in his own and kissed his fingertips.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Steve said. He beamed up at Billy who stared fixedly back at him as if, should he look away, Steve might vanish into the dark and snowy night again.

Worth the walk home, Steve thought, and reached up under Billy’s sweater to press his fingers to the warm belly he found there.

“Yeah well, I love you like crazy, but it’s a pain in the ass sometimes,” Billy said, but he didn’t try to hide the smile on his face. “Come here, baby, lemme really warm you up,” he said, and pulled Steve closer.

[mae-gi-writes]

Burning Flame (PT.2 of Catching Fire) | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

BY POPULAR DEMAND! Part Two of Catching Fire; it is only when Atheera falls under attack that your love for Sunwoo gets revealed. 

Genre: fluff, royal au! guard Sunwoo au.

A/n: jesus christ Sunwoo will be the death of me and I aint even mad.

-----

Confrontation had never been Sunwoo's forte. So imagine the horror on his face once the words slipped from Y/N's mouth as she stared down her parents just like she would stare down the barrel of a gun.

It wasn't anyone's fault per se. It all so happened that the Royal Kingdom of Atheera was under attack a few weeks after the pair's undying confession of love to each other, which made Sunwoo one of the primary guards responsible for devising their defences.

"Are you sure you have to go?" Y/N had said lightly, though the said guard heard the soft lingering sadness in her voice despite her attempts to sound as jovial as she possibly could.

"They need me," he looked up from tying up his boots, catching sight of the princess's worried glances flying between him and the group of soldiers that were waiting outside the stables. She had been allowed to the servant's quarters with the excuse that she would be the one to send off their army. But it was quite unsettling to see her -- refined and pale and looking as fragile as glass -- amidst the piles of straw stacked in the corner and the smell or horse droppings in the air.

She shuffled uneasily, clearly distraught by the fact that he'd be taken from her side for days, weeks at most. Throwing a glance to ensure that no one was eavesdropping, the soldier reached out, grasped her hand, and dragged her to him. His legs parted so that she stumbled between them, tilting his head upwards to gaze into her dark worried pools of brown.

Reaching up almost out of instinct to curl her hair behind her ear, he said, "I won't be long. You'll blink and I'll be back."

"Liar," she shot back.

"Okay so maybe I'll be a little longer than usual," he grinned while trying to imprint her features into memory. God knows how long he'd be gone. He wished he could pause to enjoy this moment -- just the two of them -- for a little longer.

It was only upon feeling the softest brush of Y/N's lips against his forehead that he was brought out of his daze, gazing at her with questioning eyes.

She bit her lip, averted her eyes, "please be careful."

"I will," he wrapped his arms around her middle, hearing her take a soft breath as he dropped a peck onto her clothed stomach, "one day, what's inside will be mine."

"Sunwoo!" Her blush was so prominent atop her cheeks, she slapped his arm, "you cocky bastard."

And so they said their goodbyes with Y/N on the brink of tears and Sunwoo's heart heavy with emotion. When her voice broke as she told him to take care of himself, he had to steal one last kiss from her mouth while murmuring how much he loved her, chuckling as she flushed deep red even when shrouded by the darkness of the stables.

One week had gone by. Then two. Then, just when Y/N had given up hope altogether that her soldiers would find their way back home, she'd spotted the tiniest glimpse of the red Atheerian flag billowing in the distance and had practically fallen out of bed to alert the guards at the gates.

It was chaos. Blood splattered across every soldier's face, clothes torn and tattered in places she couldn't even imagine. Y/N barely kept it together as her eyes flitted from bruises to scrapes to trying to identify a familiar face amidst a sea of vague strangers.

Sunwoo, Sunwoo, Sunwoo, her heart and mind chimed together. But he wasn't there, he didn't seem to be there.

Emotion tightened her throat. Before her eyes fell onto a face.

A face she'd been waiting for all this time.

It was relief that hit her first. It crashed through her body and caused her shoulders to slump away all the tension. But just as quickly as it went, it came right back as soon as she spotted his mangled body being half-dragged by two other soldiers, bloodied shirt and all, and a badly-wrapped wound that was drenched in blood. 

Y/N didn’t realize that her mouth had opened on its own accord, that she was screaming -- until hands fluttered at her sides, pulling her back.

“No!” She screeched and batted the limbs away, before charging towards a barely coherent Sunwoo with a force she seldom knew she had, “Sunwoo!” 

“Y/N,” came his soft, breathy murmur, masked by a soft groan when his movement caused pain to ring through his side. She quickly went to his other side, slung his shoulder around her arm albeit the fact that her nightgown was getting all bloody in the process. He would’ve reprimanded her in normal circumstances, but he barely had any energy to peel his eyes open.

“Bring him to the hospital wing, I want his wound to be treated as soon as possible. Call all doctors if need be,” Y/N’s voice, despite echoing through his mind as though he was hearing her through muffled headphones, was sharp with authority, the power of her bloodline thrumming through her tone, “get the rest of the soldiers to safety. The ones who aren’t injured should go down to the city, gather as many doctors as you can. If there are others just like Sunwoo, get people to start treating them.”

The said soldier willed his mouth to speak, to tell her that he was fine and that there was no need to worry, for his wound wasn’t that deep. But it seemed like he’d lost consciousness as soon as he was marched through the castle doors for the next thing he knew, his eyes were fluttering open to see Y/N before his bed, hands fisted and mouth twisted into a scowl directed towards the King and Queen of Atheera standing at the door.

Sunwoo wanted to ask what happened, only for a cough to rip through his lungs instead. Y/N was at his side in a flash, hand coming up with a cup of water that he downed without hesitation. 

“What--” he coughed some more once she pulled the empty glass away, eyes flitting from her defensive figure to her parents’ worried glances, “Y/N?” he croaked out, “what’s going on?” 

"Nothing,” Y/N’s stance was defensive, a feline that felt threatened, “I’m just trying to tell my parents to call off the betrothal because the man I love is right here, in this room.” 

At that, she tilted her chin upwards in a defying manner, causing Sunwoo’s stomach to coil tightly in a mixture of fear and apprehension. He didn’t dare spare a glance towards the king, whom he could feel was practically drilling holes into his head from where he stood.

“How?” Her mother was saying, stumbling over words with glassy eyes, “how did that--how even? How? We never--”

“Does that matter?” Y/N cut her off as her hands tightened into balled-up fists at her sides, “I always did what you ask. I never complained. I’ve done all my duties as a princess. But just this once, I want to have a choice,” desperation laced through her soprano, “please.”

At this point, embarrassment was boiling through the soldier’s lungs like wildfire. Reaching out to tug at her arm, he rasped out in a whisper, “Y/N, not now--”

��We--” the king cleared his throat. Their faces swivelled, rapt with attention as the older man raised a hand in mock surrender, “we'll talk about this later.” 

And that was when he stepped out of the room, soon followed by his wife after throwing one final glance in the soldier’s direction. It was definitely not a friendly one.

Y/N wasted no time to turn to him as soon as the door closed with a sound that left a bitter aftertaste in Sunwoo’s mouth. Her eyes, red-rimmed and tired, searched his face as she tried not to burst into tears.

“You--” she bit her lip, barely managing to hold on to the multitude of emotions that would’ve rendered her weak at the knees if she hadn’t been sitting, "you idiot.” 

"You’re the idiot,” Sunwoo blinked away the tiredness, hand finding hers to interlock their fingers, “do you want to give your parents a heart attack?”

She shook her head, “never mind that,” glancing down at the bed sheet covering his wound, her eyes scanned his face for any hint of injury, “how are you feeling?”

“Y/N?” Panic rose through his chest, “what am I doing here? Did you tell them--”

“You were dying,” she interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. When his eyes shot up to hers in surprise and noticed her gaze brimming with tears, his heart couldn’t help but give a painful twist. She exhaled shakily, “you were dying and I couldn’t--I didn’t have a choice.” 

Something that felt like horror churned uneasily in the pit of his stomach. That was it. He’d probably be fired as soon as he could walk and albeit the fact that Y/N would fight for his sake, it was clear where the said soldier stood in the eyes of the Royal family; in the stables where he belonged.

As though taken by a sudden impulse to make things right, Sunwoo made to throw his leg out of bed. Y/N quickly shot out, pushing his shoulders back as she said, “Oh no. What do you think you’re doing?” she tucked the sheets back around his neck in a decisive manner, “you’re not moving. Not when you’ve practically lost half of your blood’s worth.” 

“I’m fine, I need--” her hands were insistent and he was too weak to fight her off. He relented with a soft grumble, a guilty expression taking over his face as he noted the dark circles imprinted underneath her eyes, the worried lines along her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” his murmur was soft and barely audible if she hadn’t been paying attention, “I’m sorry, for everything--”

“You scared me,” her tone was fierce, eyes glassy as she squeezed his hand, “I thought you--I thought you were dead.”

“I thought I was, too.” 

“There was so much blood,” her voice broke halfway through her sentence, “there was so much blood Sunwoo, I--I lost it. I just wanted you to get all the help you could get. I didn’t think and I--” 

“Hey hey,” he tried reaching for her, wincing as a dull ache spread throughout his limb. She noticed and leaned closer, close enough that he managed to lift a shaky hand to wipe away the stray tears threatening to cascade down her cheeks, “I’m okay now,” his thumb traced circles over her cheek, “don’t cry.” 

That was when she broke down into ugly sobs, pulling away from his hold and  leaning against the bed while her hands came up to hide her face from view. Sunwoo watched, own tears stinging the corner of his eyes. He wanted to hold her, to pull her close. His heart hurt at her broken countenance and he wondered how many nights had she stayed up watching over him, how many nights she’d cried herself to sleep. 

"Come here,” he rasped out a murmur and found her without protest when he managed to tug her. She wrapped her arms gingerly around his neck, pulled him close in a gentle hug and buried her face into the space between his shoulder and jaw.

“It’s okay,” he kept on repeating like a lullaby, alto so soft in her ear in made her shiver, “it’s okay, Y/N.”

It was only when her sobs had subsided into soft sniffles that she managed to lift her head to gaze at him with swollen eyes, and though she had never looked in a worst state, Sunwoo thought that she’d never looked so kissable right here, in this particular moment. 

And so he tugged her forward. Gently. 

She followed without hesitation, the softest kiss exchanged. It was one that sucked out all air from his body, one that caused all his nerves to light up in a fire of sensual temptation as he gazed at her through half-lidded eyes. 

She was close enough that he could tilt his head up and kiss her forehead. Her nose. Both cheeks. And her lips. Once, twice. 

Before he cupped the back of her neck to kiss her more deeply, mouth staining hers and moving her through a dance that was more rhythmic, more sensual. His tongue delved into hers and she let out a dying gasp as she relented to his attack, allowing his wet muscle to explore and twine around her own. A satisfied grumble echoed through his chest as he pressed her closer while the girl’s hands moved up to cup his face, caressed his jaw as she kissed back with just as much restrained passion.

He felt her desperate need to feel him close, her attempts to mold her entire body to his if that was possible, and smiled into the kiss before drawing away. The softest, muffled whine fell from her throat the moment he did, causing the soldier to chuckle as he watched her flush deep red with embarrassment.

"So what's going to happen?" He murmured, "now that your parents know?"

She shrugged, "does it matter? I'm not getting married to anyone but you. I made that clear enough."

"Y/N, you know it doesn't work that way."

"Oh don't worry," a wicked grin broke across her face, "the prince I'm supposedly betrothed to has already announced his engagement."

"What?" Sunwoo blinked, ears perked up and alert.

"We already had an agreement, him and I," she continued while playing with his fingers, "that both of us would be allied without marriage."

"Do your parents know about that?"

"Obviously," she paused, "not yet."

"Oh god," he let out a groan, "they're gonna hate me."

"Not if I do this first."

He didn't even have time to blink before he spotted her sliding something along his finger. A ring.

A ring.

His head snapped up in shock, jaw falling slack at her action. Y/N gazed back, flushed yet determined, gauging for his reaction.

He swallowed. Opened his mouth. Closed it. His ears flushed deep red.

Finally, he managed to cough out, "I--I was the one who was supposed to do that."

"Nobody ever said I couldn't do it first," she grinned back.

Sunwoo grumbled out an incoherent response and her grin widened even more upon noticing his embarrassment as he turned his hear away.

Giggling, she peered over at him, "are you blushing?" It was amusing to see Sunwoo, so brave and courageous, rendered to that of a small child who couldn't even meet her eyes, "you are blushing!"

"No I'm not!" He replied hotly.

"You so are!" She teased, "oh my god, Sunwoo. I didn't know you could be so cute."

He had nothing to say in his defense, only managed to bury his face back into her shoulder as she kept on laughing softly, hand going up to trickle through his dark strands.

"So will you?" She asked, "marry me?"

A whine escaped his mouth. But she pressed on, "I need a verbal approval."

He made another noise that sounded halfway between a mewl and a whimper. Y/N rolled her eyes and was about to flaunt that maybe she was asking the wrong person, when his hand grasped her shoulder to pull her back so that he could kiss her with much more intensity, a demanding kind of passion that left her breathless and causing a wave of desire to erupt through her stomach.

When he pulled away, there was a hint of a smirk dancing along his lips as he said, `was that answer good enough for you?"

[the-peak-of-despair]

Fuyuhiko x Reader scared of storms

anon said:  hi, mod akane!! could i maybe request a oneshot of fuyuhiko comforting a fem!reader who's afraid of thunderstorms? maybe it could take place in a public setting? thank you so much in advance!! -⚒ anon

Not Mod Akane projecting her tramua about storms into this hfskdalfha but thank you for this! It really inspired me and I’m hoping I can get through more of my ask box. -Mod Akane

CW: IMPLIED PANIC ATTACK, STORMS

Looking out the window of the restaurant, you couldn’t help but feel the anxiety begin to swell in your stomach as you saw dark clouds blotting out the entire sky. You took a deep breath as you turned back to Fuyuhiko, his face mostly obscured by the hat he wore low on his head to prevent anyone recognizing him. Right, he couldn’t be seen with you often or else you’d become some sort of mafia target.. Today just felt like one anxiety piled on top of another. 

“Hey, whats up?” Fuyuhiko asked. “You haven’t even touched your food.” 

“O-Oh, I’m fine!” You stuttered, picking up your fork again to pick at it. “J-Just.. Ah, I just got distracted that’s all.” 

He raised a brow, clearly seeing through the lie, but decided to drop it. “Alright..” 

You sighed to yourself as your eyes scanned the heavily expensive restaurant. On his free days, it was clear Fuyuhiko could spoil you with what he had. You still couldn’t stop staring out the window again, even as you forced yourself to eat, despite the food feeling disgusting and the pit in your stomach ever growing as you could borderline sense the storm forming above you.

To put it likely, you did not like storms. At all. Terrified of them, more like it. Had you known it was going to storm today, you might not have come out at all, but Fuyuhiko seemed to rarely have free days where you could go out like this… Least to say, it was quite the situation. You could barely sit still, the anxiety starting to grow as you heard the rumbling of the storm sound terrifyingly close.

If anything, maybe you could finish this meal fast and just get home before anything bad hit… At that point you could just hide under some blankets until it all went away. 

Unfortunately, that didn’t really seem to be the case even as you pushed your plate away from you on the table, signifying you were done, and you turned and saw rain starting to pour. Oh dear god. You scanned the restaurant, seeing most people had decided it’d be better to get home before getting caught in this god forsaken shitshow known as a storm. 

“A-Ah, I’m sorry, I don’t feel well, Fuyu, I’m gonna head to the bathroom real fast..” You excused yourself as Fuyuhiko nodded, letting you go as you got out of your chair and quickly strolled through the restaurant towards the ladies room.

The second you got inside, you couldn’t help but slide down the door, burying your face in your hands. Jesus christ, you literally decided to date a terrifying leader of a yakuza gang and you can’t even cope with thunderstorms. You couldn’t stop tears forming in your eyes as you heard lightning begin to strike and thunder get louder. 

Horrible thoughts began to roll in like horrible storm clouds. Oh dear god, you were screwed, it was gonna turn into a tornado, or a hurricane or something, or strike your house and burn it down, or a tree is gonna fall through your roof, or maybe your friends will get hurt..

Air struggled to come in and out of your lungs as you barely managed to scoot away from the door, wanting to do nothing more than collapse and sink into the ground just to avoid this fucking storm. Storms were literally the worst.

A loud rapping at the door- knocking- manages to filter through all the intrusive thoughts. “(Y/N), doll, you in there?” You heard Fuyuhiko call. “Y’know, we can leave now.” His voice was a bit lower, calming almost.

You sniffled, trying to rapidly wipe away the tears. “I-I’m f-fine!” You called, not without a sob coming out after it. “R-Really, I..” 

“Doll, what’s wrong? I-I’m gonna come in.” Fuyuhiko calls through the door.

“N-No… really, I-I’m-” You tried to argue in between your gasps for breath, with no avail considering Fuyuhiko came in anyway. Thank god no one else was in here.. “A-Ah, Fuyuhik-” You began to speak, trying to rapidly wipe away your tears.

“Hey, hey woah-” Fuyuhiko starts, rushing over to kneel next to you. “What’s wrong, doll?” 

You couldn’t help but break down and lean into Fuyuhiko, starting to cry into his chest. “I-I- The storm.. I- I got anx- and-” Big sob. “I just freaked out- cause what if- oh god- I’m gonna di- the storm-” You began talking but it wasn’t really coherent, so many thoughts just rushing out at once with no room in between. 

“Ah, shit..” Fuyuhiko curses, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back, letting you talk or babble as much as you needed. “Is there anything I can do, doll?” He asks in a low voice. You take a heavy breath, trying to get it together, with the help of the comfort of Fuyuhiko with you. “I-I just.. I wanna go home...but.. I- Fuyu, I’m s-scared to…” You trailed off.

“Yeah, I know.. It’s alright..” He sighs, wishing he could help in literally any way possible. He wasn’t the best with words or comfort, but he was trying his best. He loved you, and he cared. “I-It’s all gonna be okay, alright, doll? No matter what happens, I’m here.”

You nodded into his chest as you took another deep breath, knowing Fuyuhiko was there. It was gonna be okay.

[mutilatedmadonna]

A Heart To Heart Conversation (Not Literally Jesus Christ Where Did You Even Get That)

YOOOOOO made it with one hour to spare but ya girl still has her submission for the @secret-shifters gift exchange! This is for the lovely and talented @hiddendreamer67 who I was so fucking excited to write for! Also side note, I started a fic before this one but it was taking too long for my taste so I popped out this sucker instead. That being said like............why waste a perfectly good fic.............why not finish it eventually...........and still gift it to her since it’s techinically her prompt lmaoooo

I will go back and edit this post to include the AO3 link when I publish it :3c

Anyways

Warnings: Mild depictions of gore, fearplay; obviously, it’s all I know how to write whoops

Some people are great talkers, others are fantastic listeners. Some listen so well, in fact, they’re willing to destroy a government lab for you.

“Stop, please, I don’t want to hurt you!”

As if Derrick stood a fucking chance against the massive creature that was currently inching closer to him, crouched low to fit within the compound’s hallways. The alarm ringing was making his head pound, an unfortunate addition to his dizziness he’d been overcome with as soon as he saw the first body. Well, bodies. It had wiped out nearly every scientist and researcher in that sector as soon as it was freed from its cage, growling and hissing all the while as it dug its teeth and nails into the panicking humans. How it escaped at all was still a mystery and probably forever would be. As soon as it clawed its way through the protective lockdown doors into gen pop, all hell really broke loose. Guards tried and failed to take it down, hoping to wound the monster at best so that it could be recontained, but even as more backup arrived with heavier artillery, they never stood a chance. It was fast, it was strong, it was pissed, and it seemed to have a taste for blood and bones.

He didn’t know if it had any sort of plan beyond escaping the observational cage it had been trapped in for years, seemingly going into halls and sectors at random to slaughter the hapless scientists seeking refuge. The only reason Derrick had survived this long was simply because he ran and he continued to run. There was no use trying to hide, it was too good at tracking, so instead he did his damnedest to stay ahead of it. It had been working pretty well until he was stopped by the door at the last hall, a dead end to safety potentially. The only problem being his fucking keycard wasn’t high enough clearance to open it. He could hear it getting closer, hear the screams and crunch of bodies and deep growls that echoed all around. His breathing became more ragged the louder the sounds grew, knowing it was just one final turn away from being at the far end of the hall with a straight shot right to Derrick. No, no, no, he didn’t want to die like this. Not at the hands of this beast, not at the hands of...shit, what he thought was almost his friend.

It was his job to observe the creature in its confinement at night and take excruciating notes about every sigh and twitch it might make. It was truly as boring as it sounded, especially when the creature was awake a majority of his shift but only laid on the floor, quiet and still. It looked depressed and Derrick didn’t blame it. It had long since been locked away before he had even started at the organization, subjected to trials and tests day in and day out for hours so that the scientists could jot down these amazing discoveries. He had no idea what they planned on doing with all this data they were collecting given that this whole place was top secret, the creature certainly never meant to see the light of day. Or rather, people were never meant to see the creature. It’d cause mass hysteria. So, one evening, a few hours into the terribly dull silence he started talking aloud. Not to anyone in particular and not about anything exciting, just idle chit chat with the wall, really. 

He never expected the creature to perk up at the sound of his voice, eyeing him curiously as he continued on. He certainly never expected to turn his head back towards the massive bay window to see it sitting much closer than before. Still watching him with wide, yellow eyes and tilting its head when he quickly shut his mouth. It had never moved so close before, hell it never even showed interest in him before beyond a few glances when he’d first enter the small overhanging room. At the same time, it didn’t appear aggressive or annoyed with his mindless ramblings. In fact, when he had stayed quiet for a minute during their staring contest, it chirped at him. Like it was...encouraging him to talk again. So he did, nervously at first before getting back into the flow of whatever random thought he had at the moment. And every time the creature would just sit and listen, its full attention on Derrick, with the occasional dozing off in the midst of his longer topics. He wasn’t sure how much it actually understood him. After all, it never listened to any directions it was given during another trial, but then again that could have just been out of spite and defiance. It didn’t speak English to his knowledge as it had never once given him a reply, but that didn’t mean it didn’t know it.

It never really responded, but there were quite a few times it would react to whatever he was saying. He theorized it was basing most of its assumptions off of whatever emotion he was portraying in his speeches. When he was visibly upset about some incident with Travis down in aquatics, it would whine. When he was excited about some great news he was dying to share with someone, it would chirp. When he was exhausted for one reason or another, unable to keep his eyes open or his stories coherent, it would purr. Almost as if it was trying to lull him to sleep, which it succeeded in every time with its soft white noise. If he were to be honest, he genuinely looked forward to his evening shift just about every day. Derrick could get so much shit out of his head and off his chest without having to worry about what the creature would think about him later. Maybe this was just a trick of the mind, but...it almost seemed just as happy to see him as soon as he would appear in that bay window, immediately twitching its ears up and moving closer.

Clearly, the mutual bond was not reciprocated.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, why the fuck would the creature like him? He was just another human that stared at him for science and soon enough he’d be just another human ground under its palm until his organs burst. Perhaps it just liked hearing the sound of his voice, anything being better than the silence it was constantly surrounded in, or maybe it had always been sizing him up for a snack. He had never written any of these emotional reactions down. He didn’t...well, it was hard to put in the right words, but he just didn’t want his superiors to have that knowledge that could understand feelings for the most part. That it appeared to like him. That it could be docile. Almost like he was trying to protect it from more severe and psychological tests they would surely run. He wondered if things would be different if he actually did report his findings, like if they could have prevented whatever triggered its rage strong enough to rip down doors and walls.

It was creeping closer now, claws clicking along the concrete floor. It was absolutely soaked in blood, especially around its mouth and hands. The way its tail jerked side to side reminded him of an irritated cat, which he didn’t take as a good sign. It wasn’t like Derrick actually had something to protect himself with like he so claimed. His bluff was called in an instant and it made a throaty rumble in response to his threat. It had been difficult to see at a distance with the flashing, red light acting almost as a cheap strobe, but now that it was only a few yards away, he could very clearly tell there was something hanging from its mouth. Something large and dripping and red and oh Christ it was a body. He hoped the poor bastard wasn’t alive anymore for mercy’s sake, firmly clamped between its jaws and impaled on its fangs. Was that a sign of things to come for him? He pressed as much as he could against the lock door in a vain attempt to somehow phase through to the other side and reach safety. With no such luck, he slid down to sit on the floor instead and covered his head with his arms curling in tightly on himself. He was shaking something terrible and tears still managed to find a way to escape his shut eyes. This was never how he imagined he’d meet his end, but either way he didn’t want to see it coming. Maybe if it did like him just a smidge, it would grant him a quick and painless death. He doubted it, though. It sounded like it enjoyed the struggles of its prey far too much.

Derrick could tell when it was hovering right above him. Its shadow engulfed him, blood dripped steadily into a puddle in front of him, spreading out across the floor until it actually touched his shoes. Fuck, he couldn’t help the sob that escaped him. He was scared. Strangely enough, it didn’t...do anything to him as seconds ticked by agonizingly slow. Staring at him, he presumed? Just how it would when there was a safety window between them. Something heavy landed in front of him with a disgusting squish, splattering more blood onto him. When the silence stretched on again, he hesitantly cracked open an eye to see what was supposedly laying at his feet and immediately wished he didn’t.

It was fucking Travis. Or what was left of him, anyways, torn to shreds and missing a few vital chunks from his body. Derrick wanted to throw up, but his throat was already choked up with more panicked cries. He looked away from the corpse, not wanting to take in anymore of the gory details and instead looked at the face of the creature. It didn’t look upset in the slightest, not like how angered it had been dismembering every other unlucky human in its path. Instead, it just stared back at him with those same wide, yellow eyes, tilting its head at Derrick’s lack of reaction. It leaned down to nudge the body closer to him with its nose, pushing it against his legs and rumbling curiously. No, no, no, get it off, get it off!

“S-stop! I don’t fucking w-want it!” He cried, kicking his legs out to shove the remains away from him. What was he supposed to do with it anyways!? Why was it showing off its latest kill, like it was seeking his approval, like it--

...like it did it for him.

The night before last, he and Travis got into it again in the break room. He was already pissed about being transferred to the division the creature was in and leaving his previous work behind. It could have been because Derrick happened to be the only one there or because he was one of the younger hires, the asshole decided to take his frustration out on him instead. Snide comments turned into full on insults and all Derrick wanted was some goddamn coffee before he clocked out. Waiting for the machine to finish brewing wasn’t worth it at this point, he could pick up a cup somewhere else on the way home. He tried to leave, but Travis blocked the doorway and he, not being in the fucking mood, tried to shoulder past him instead. It was very much not appreciated as the next thing he knew he was being pinned against the wall, the lapels of his coat clenched in his fist. He was absolutely ready to throw hands with this guy before he backed off suddenly, another coworker entering the break room with a cheery greeting and total obliviousness.

Maybe he should have told his superiors about the incident, but he chose instead to vent about it to the creature the next night. As soon as he mentioned when it got physical, its ears flatten back and it growled, though Derrick was too consumed by his own emotions to really care about its apparent threat display. After that was when it had clawed its way to freedom and started its rampage. That...that couldn’t have been what set it off though, right? There had to be other catalysts surely. However, it didn’t change the fact how eagerly it was presenting the mauled corpse of his aggressor, almost as if to say look! For you!

Did that mean...it really did understand him? It understood enough that Travis had tried to attack him and he was not his biggest fan right now. He had been really worked up during that little rant, too, probably making it sound worse than it actually was. Either way, it didn’t like that and took matters into its own hands. Or, mouth rather. This must be its interpretation of protecting him, killing the threat before it could strike again. Good thing he wasn’t one to usually bad mouth coworkers or the creature possibly could have had its massacre sparked by Derrick being mildly annoyed that Sarah always forgot to clean out the coffee filter when she was done.

The creature looked at the body as it was kicked back towards it, whining slightly. Was it upset that he didn’t accept its gracious tribute? That wouldn’t start another fit of anger, would it? He thought it just might when he scoot forward those remaining few injuries to press its face against Derrick’s trembling body. Its bloody mouth transferred an unfortunate amount of gore onto his clothing, but he had other things to worry about, like how close its fucking mouth full of fangs was to his more important organs. The nose buried into his chest rubbed gently, trailing up his neck and to the side of his head. Purrs rumbled with each quiet breath, taking care not to accidentally deafen him. He still cried out when the creature invaded his personal space, though he didn’t have much room to struggle as he was pinned between the door and the face. He whimpered regardless, trying to turn his head to avoid being nuzzled and ultimately failing.

If he thought the impromptu cuddling was bad, he was in for a worse shock when the creature pulled back just a hair, foolishly thinking that it finally had its fill of smelling him or scenting him or what the fuck ever. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy, not when a black tongue darted out from smiling lips to lick him from his stomach to the crown of his head in one, quick swipe. Now that made him actually scream out some sort of pathetic, strangled sound, squirming about as he was lapped again and again and again.

“N-no, don’t, p-please!” He begged uselessly, “D-don’t kill m-me, please, p-please, don’t e-eat me!”

Much to his surprise, the creature actually pulled away from him after that last remark, tilting its head questioningly again. While Derrick was in the middle of his panic attack, doing his damnedest to keep his cries from becoming too harsh, it crossed its arms and rested its head on them, watching as he tried to collect himself to no avail. When it seemed like he was starting to slip deeper into his episode, it started to purr. Quiet and soft, a nice noise to help drown out that increasingly annoying siren. And the worst part was that he really was actually starting to calm down. Not that he liked being so scared he couldn’t breathe, but it was the sheer fact that it was the creature bringing him comfort when it was the one who terrified him in the first place. His sobs quieted down after a few minutes and when they were ragged breaths instead, it started to chitter. Little chirps and purrs and throaty noises he could only assume were directed at him since that’s where it was staring so intently, though the sounds meant nothing to him. Was that how it felt when he used to talk to it for hours on end?

Was it trying to talk to him to soothe him, because him talking to it made it feel relaxed?

He supposed their time together was a much needed break from being poked and prodded and tested and it started to associate Derrick with that mini luxury. The talking probably gave it a sense of company considering he had no fucking clue if and where other members of its species resided. Maybe this friendship wasn’t as one sided as he thought. Maybe it cared so much about the stupid little human that would blather his entire shift that it was willing to rip the facility inside out just to get rid of his bully. One by one his muscles started to uncoil their tension until he was sagging against the door. His breathing was still labored, but he could at least get a steady breath through his nose rather than his gasping mouth. A minute tremor in his hands was all that was left of his previous quivering and his headache was now replaced with a cloudy exhaustion. The creature was still making its imitation noises, only tapering off when Derrick managed to raise his head up and look at it.

“You won’t hurt me...will you?” His voice was so small and weak, it was a good thing the creature had fairly strong hearing.

It responded by bumping its nose into his chest again, smiling all the while. Affection. It liked him. Hesitantly, he raised a hand and gingerly placed it on the creature’s cheek, giving it a tiny pat.

“...you...you know we’re fucked when the army comes...right?” They were a last resort when all other failsafes went south and had yet to be deactivated. It wasn’t their job to find and help survivors, it was their job to make sure nothing about this event was leaked into the public. Be it the experiment itself or scientists who could potentially blackmail the directors.

It shifted to push itself back into a crouched position, lowering towards him with its mouth open. He flinched and turned away which seemed to be exactly what it wanted, clamping down on the back of his shirt and jacket and narrowly missing giving his back a nasty scrape. Derrick all but squeaked in surprise when he felt himself be lifted up, dangling a few dozen feet in the air. It was like he had the same POV as the creature, watching its hands paw at the locked door until claws were able to scratch through the metal in large gouges. Wiring and mechanics were exposed as a result and with a little more tearing and pulling, it opened the entry wide enough for it to slip through, Derrick in tow. Huh. Guess keycards we’re always a necessity. 

He hadn’t the faintest idea where they were headed, but it seemed like the creature had a general sense of direction and so far it was taking the correct route to the surface, to outside. For the moment, he didn’t have a single thing to say and simply let himself sway with the creature’s gait. Its intentions with him after they escaped into the world above were pretty vague at best, but he couldn’t really find the energy to care right now. As long as the military hadn’t beaten them to the exit, they’d be fine. 

They could talk later about their really unconventional future later.

[boilyerheid]

Really loving your Strays series! I don’t even watch The Terror but I know your writing is worth learning about a new fandom just so I can enjoy the work you’re putting out! If you’re still taking prompts, would you write a bit about John being more affected than he thought he would be from the very dubious encounter from Chap 3 of Keep Yourself Warm? Either way thanks so much for writing!

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" Sol murmurs as he eases a third finger into John, gentle and sweet where John's been indulged and allowed to be bratty and pouty and-

"That wasn't so bad, hm? Was it sweetness?" John's head is spinning too much to reply, clutching onto the already-stained sheets just to stay in the world as [the man] stills after shoving inside him. It hurts, of course it does, but John's too far gone to really register much except that he doesn't enjoy the bruising grip on his hips and-

"John, pet. Hey." Sol's crouched in front of him on the hotel bed with his hands held up and open now, fingers still shiny with lube. John blinks, blinks again, must snap back into focus sharply enough that Sol notices because his boyfriend's face visibly softens with relief. What the fuck happened between the sweet, easy prep and now? "Hey, there you are. You went all... still, like, and I thought..."

John swallows and tries to think of something to say, but his mind is fully tuned into static. Despite his alleged emotional illiteracy, Sol's perceptive enough to let it drop and keep a prattle of talk up as he potters about clearing up before coming to cuddle John and watch some crappy hotel telly in bed. With his head pillowed on Sol's shoulder, John chooses not to interrogate what the fuck all that was about.

*

"Now, next quarter may be a little rocky after those losses, but if we all put our backs into it then I'm sure-"

"Put your back into it." John can barely coordinate his limbs at this point, and he thinks he may need to find the toilet and be sick sooner rather than later, but he does his best. [the man] scoffs and slaps his arse derisively, like he's not even worth the bother of a fuck. "No wonder your bloke doesn't want you around. Jesus wept, what a cold fish."

John has never called Sol from work before, but he locks himself in the executive bathroom and has his phone in hand before most of the team have even left the meeting once it's adjourned. His hands are shaking so badly he can hardly mash the screen enough to dial, but as soon as his boyfriend picks up he realises it was worth the horrible fumbling.

"Yeah?"

"Hi," is all John can manage for a moment, and he wishes he'd thought about what to say beforehand. But his pulse is beating loudly in his ears and he feels daft and he can't make his dry throat form any words.

"Hey, babe." Sol sounds cautious, but he must read into the hitched little gasp John lets out to hear him, because he keeps talking. God bless him, he keeps talking. "Want me to chat at you for a bit?"

John manages a sound that must approximate yes please or I might spin off the face of the planet, because Sol launches into a detailed, sweary, and very him rundown of just how shittily the bar was closed last night and what he's had to deal with to open this morning. It helps John breathe until Sol has to go, and by then he's coherent enough to say goodbye properly.

Sol's waiting for him outside the building when he finishes that evening. He doesn't make John talk about it, thank God.

*

"John, love," Sol stops himself and runs a hand irritably through his hair - it's going to knot like that, it's probably knotted already - and fixes John with a raw look he's very rarely seen on his fiance before. Never seen mid-argument, that's for sure. "You're gonna have to talk about it sometime."

"What? There's nothing to talk about." Yes, there have been some nightmares. And yes, perhaps John has been having a hard time taking less than three daily showers to slough off a phantom stink recently while he's stressed, but it's not a problem. "We don't all have to be fucking traumatised, Solomon."

Sol holds up his finger, which means he's working very hard to follow the anger management techniques he's been taught for both their benefit, and John feels like shit all of a sudden. Why did he say that? What did he possibly gain from that except driving Sol away?

"I'm letting that go, pet, because I know this is really fucking hard," Sol blows his cheeks out when he forces out a breath, and John hates himself for causing this. Why hadn't he just- "But you need to deal with it, Johnny. It's eating you up now, and that's not okay. You deserve better than one shitty night ruining the rest of your bloody life."

"... he's nearly passed out... Jesus Christ, that's not okay!... need to at least call him a..."

"... just fine, aren't you sweetness... there we are now... shut the fuck up Billy, I'll deal with it... go on, off you go..."

John sucks in a shaky breath and registers his fiance watching him with weary, troubled eyes, and it doesn't break through any barriers but it does make John realise... shit, he's hurting Sol with this. He could handle repressing his own hurt until the end of days, but when it makes his future husband look like that...

"I'll talk to someone," he acquiesces, not easily and not willingly, but he does agree to it. The fact Sol envelops him in a bone-crushing hug immediately afterwards clues him into the fact it might have been more needed than he thought.

It was just a bad night, that's what he figured. How bad could a bad night really be?

[atlascas]

DEANCAS FIC REC

(last updated 7/1)

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

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

✨ = new fic on the list

💖 = in my brain rent free!

CURRENTLY READING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s the point of it?”

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

NEWER FIC

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cross country road trips with Cas are the best.

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

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

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

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

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

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

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it's time for a talk.

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

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

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

Dean gets his GED.

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

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

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

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

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

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

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No?" Castiel echoes, dumbly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Castiel,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean just stares at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In which Dean is the oblivious one for a change.

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

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

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

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

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

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

CLASSICS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You hang out in your basement."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don’t know yet," he says.

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

"Is that-"

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

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

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

"Oh," says Bela.

That changes certain things.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something in the world is waking up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heaven is white.

Well. Isn’t that fucking stereotypical.

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

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

They are the five people you meet in heaven.

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

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

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

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

Frigging fantastic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean has never been so embarrassed in his life.

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

No one ever tells Dean anything.

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

[theyaskedmeto]

It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.

For which ever ship you want

to forgive you

part of the everything means everything verse

pairing: kurt x blaine

summary: the night before, blaine stood kurt up. this is how they forgive each other.

read on ao3 or read the rest of these little fic prompt fills here

———————

He waited for ages. They don’t usually do stuff like that; go on dates and act like a ‘real’ couple should - normally they just make out under the bleachers instead of going to class, or try to escape dinner and find themselves at Scandals, the shitty gay bar on the outskirts of Lima. But it was their five-month anniversary, and, even though it wasn’t exactly a significant amount of months, Kurt does sometimes feel like they could be doing more for each other.

So, they arranged it - not anything major - just a small meet up at their park again - just wearing slightly nicer clothes this time.

And when Kurt arrived that night, nothing happened.

He waited for so long. That’s the problem when you’re in love - suddenly you feel so much more optimistic about everything. You’ve spent so long hating yourself and wishing you were living another life and then suddenly, this person comes into it and changes everything. Makes everything okay again. And then you start to think, well, if I could achieve that, can’t I handle everything else? And sometimes it just… gets out of hand.

And that’s what Kurt did - he got too optimistic. He spent too much time in that park that night, holding on to the last drop of hope until it escaped from his fingers and he was quickly filled with feelings of hurt and anger. Then eventually, he called Blaine.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” Blaine had said, “it’s just… my mom’s going on another stupid holiday again tomorrow. And she won’t let me out. She said she ‘wants me all to herself’. Not that she even cares.”

“So you couldn’t even fucking text me?” And Kurt was already shouting at him by then. He couldn’t stop himself. He was angry and it was cold, and the halterneck crop top and skinny jeans he was wearing did not keep him warm.

Blaine was hardly listening. He hung up on him.

And Kurt walked home, shivering, lonely, and wishing he had a cigarette right then.

*

Sometimes, Kurt wonders when Blaine will stop throwing stones at his window to get Kurt’s attention from inside and just use the actual front door because believe it or not, he does care about what his dad will do if his temperamental boyfriend smashes the glass. But when Blaine does it for what feels like the one-hundredth time, the sounds sort of make him laugh - it’s a reminder of his boyfriend now, how they met, how everything built up to this. And it’s also nearly six in the morning during the summer holidays, and Kurt hasn’t even been awake at this time since graduation, so his brain isn’t exactly functioning yet.

Well, he would be happier with Blaine’s appearance if he didn’t stand him up last night.

Under his breath and eyes still sealed shut, he sleepily mumbles, “What the fuck do you want?” and stumbles out of bed, duvet flopping onto the floor as he moves towards the noise. He squints his eyes because the sun has already started to rise, and peers out the window where Blaine is standing there - almost stumbling, even - with a bottle of vodka in hand and a rather exaggerated expression on his face.

Blaine sees his figure through the window, and he shouts, words a little slurred and voice cracking, “Kurt!” and his hands shoot up in the air desperately, liquid in the bottle he’s holding sloshing around precariously.

It’s almost hysterical - he’s drunk, it’s six AM on a Thursday morning, and Blaine’s there with those desperate eyes and stumbling on the sidewalk, and Kurt has to wake up more because he is going to get himself fucking hurt and it will be my problem.

But if anything happens to you—

Kurt opens the window, blinks more as his eyes adjust to the growing sunlight, “Blaine? What the fuck is going on?”

“Kurt!” Blaine shouts again, “I wanna…” he stops for a moment, searching. “I’m drunk.” he finally says, struggling to find the right words after thinking about them for a while, “Please! I’m sorry for what I did.”

He looks like a fucking mess - his hair is tousled over his forehead - his eyes are partially hidden but Kurt can still see the dark circles under them. There are stains on his white shirt, and that signature leather jacket thrown on over it. He looks a fucking mess.

How does he still look hot?

He’s stumbling more, and there is a small bit in Kurt that panics because if anything happens to him— but mostly he’s angry because it’s fucking six in the morning and he was sleeping and his boyfriend is just there, drunk on the sidewalk, and Kurt doesn’t know what to say.

He settles on, “God, what the hell are you doing out there?”

Blaine gives an incredibly over-exaggerated guilty expression, looks around himself as if to say, what do I know?

He sighs, “Please, Kurt. I need— can you… please… let me in?”

Kurt stares at him - his eyes still feel like they could shut with the lack of sleep (he was up reading until two AM) - stares at his boyfriend, can’t even comprehend him for a single moment. He doesn’t know how Blaine can do this; how can Blaine seem like a fucking loser and stand him up and Kurt still has to love him?

Because every day he wakes up and thinks of him. Cares about him. God— he doesn’t know what he’d do if something happened to him, and yet Kurt is still so aware of how fucking shit he can be.

But then he’s also aware of the pain, the hurt Blaine had to go through to be here, to be in this state, and he thinks about his own pain, too. God, he misses the time when he didn’t really give a shit about anything. And now, Blaine…

Is still standing on the sidewalk with that bottle of vodka in his hand and Kurt wants to hate him but he can’t, because there’s a pulling in his heart and it sings Blaine.

Back to the moment, and Kurt raises his eyebrows, rolls him eyes as he leans on the windowsill. He sighs, and his eyes are just focused on his boyfriend for a moment, then says, “Fine. I’ll let you in.”

*

He has to walk down the stairs quietly because even though he’d love to be an adult with complete free-reign over his life, he’s not. And his dad will kill him if he sees Blaine’s here at five fifty-two in the morning, not that he’s ever that happy with seeing Blaine over at his at all, especially after Burt knows what Blaine did to his son last night.

For a moment, he thinks about whether he should get changed but then remembers that his boyfriend is literally standing there, drunk on the pavement in the clothes he always wears and it doesn’t mean a thing, and he doesn;t deserve it anyway.

But Blaine still needs to be safe.

He opens the front door, and there Blaine is: leaning on the porch railing, so obviously drunk it’s absurd. Kurt doesn’t hesitate to grab his hand and drag him inside, muttering under his breath, “Jesus fucking christ Blaine, I actually— what the hell were you thinking?”

Blaine, now considerably closer to Kurt after he’s grabbed his arm, slurs, consonants fading into each other from the effects of the drink, “Dunno. Got bored,” he nestles further into the crevice between Kurt’s shoulder and neck and Kurt knows he’s lying. “Hmmmm,” he moans lightly out of contentment, “‘s warm here.”

“Okay, then. Come on,” Kurt says, still not being able to really believe the situation at hand, still angry at him, and hauls him up the stairs, “There’s only… twelve steps. Come on.” He says again, and Blaine has basically plastered himself against Kurt now, groaning, “‘s just… stay here.”

“No, Blaine. Come on. Twelve steps. And I’m fucking tired, so you should be thanking me for even letting you in after last night.”

“I said I was sorry!” Blaine argues back, then says, as if he’s completely forgotten the conversation, “Were you… trying to read Mrs— Miss—” Blaine lets out a humph and gives up trying to pronounce the correct word, “You were reading Dalloway again.” He slurs, and Kurt can feel his weight on him getting heavier, and god they really need to get up these stairs.

“It was only until one. Now. Come. On…” Kurt urges him again, giving his arm another tug. He really is too tired for this right now.

After a rather large amount of struggle, they make it to the top, and Kurt’s pretty amazed they haven’t even woken his dad yet. They stumble into his room, and the minute Blaine sees the bed he flops onto it, still holding the bottle of vodka. After realising he still has it, Kurt snatches it off him, says, “Why were you even up at this time, Blaine? God, even for you this is a stretch.”

“I wasn’t—” Blaine starts, words still slurred, “I woke up. At five.”

“And?”

“Was thinking about you. Couldn’t… couldn’t get back to s—sleep.”

“So you drank nearly a whole bottle of vodka.”

Blaine sighs melodramatically, “Yeah. Look, Kurt, it’s not— my mom’s not in town.” he says, as if that’s a perfect excuse. “I dunno. Then I thought of you. I’m so sorry.”

Kurt hesitates slightly, “You thought of me?”

“Yeah. ‘Bout how much I… care about you.”

“...I… care about you too,” Kurt says, as it’s hardly coherent he does - voice just above a whisper, like saying it louder would make the words so much harder to come to terms with. He knows Blaine will understand, even when he’s drunk, that those words are an acceptance of his apology.

It’s so weird, sometimes, because on the outside, around others, Blaine is just… different. And then when he’s with Kurt he’s so sweet, so soft and giving, and sometimes Kurt loses himself in it.

There are still so many hurdles to cross before Kurt can fully comprehend this - what he and Blaine have together - this sudden love that fell on Kurt’s shoulders so quickly. But it’s not a burden. Hardly anything but that, really. Every time he spends with Blaine it feels lighter, and it’s just something he doesn’t understand. How can one person make another feel that way?

They’re staring at each other for a moment, just falling into the other’s eyes again. And it’s nice. But thinking about this so deeply, this connection, Kurt finds himself becoming very aware of it. So he takes a deep breath in as if to say, anyway… and comments, “You need a new shirt. And we need to sleep. Take one of mine.”

Kurt throws a random T-shirt at Blaine, who huffs and toes off his shoes. Kurt has to help with removing his jeans and top and putting on the one Kurt has given him. Kurt doesn’t try and hide his blatant staring.

When Kurt slides into bed with Blaine he pipes up again, “Can I have the bottle back yet?”

Kurt tries not to laugh, “Blaine. You’re not having more vodka. It’s six AM.”

From somewhere inside the covers Kurt’s pretty sure Blaine mumbles, “Fuck you.” but he’s not too sure. He can’t stop the giggles that erupt from his chest.

With the curtains drawn and the sun only half seeping its way into the room, they fall asleep again, with half of Kurt wondering how he will be able to hide Blaine from his dad when they wake up again, and half of him not caring at all, just being here, wrapped in the blankets with his stupid, beautiful boyfriend, and forgives him.